#i think it actually turned out really well :] glowin

[apple8ees]

lighting/fire practice in the form of a sort of @comicaurora redraw... unfortunately, void erin cool

[kagedbird]

TESSDE AU (+ Lucia :]) (??? part 6)

Allora: *slowly coming to herself, blinking her eyes open and wobbling in place* Oof… I really hate waking up like this…

Kaidan: *finally able to break free and rushes to her, picking her up and hugging her tightly* Gods, woman, stop scaring the shit out of me!

Allora: *blinks, still processing things and chuckles* Hi to you too, honey. Sorry.

Lucien + Inigo: *rushing over, confused, concerned, and awed by her new form*

Taliesin + Lucia: *immediately behind, joining in on the hug, Taliesin denying any tears trickling down his face while Lucia blubbers and clings to Allora*

Lyra: *still processing everything she just witnessed*

Davidicus: *feverishly writing everything down, gobsmacked*

Athrodite: *standing from her kneeling position, breathing out a sigh* We were right. You really are the Great One. The Dragonborns before you have blessed you, as has Akatosh. This is a momentous day!

Hilio + Elona: *standing bowing reverently again* Blessings upon you, Great One!

Allora: *lets out a whiney sigh* I just wanna go home… Ah! Ow! Inigo-

Inigo: *accidentally brushed against her wings* Oops! Sorry.

Lucien: Are you all right? That was terrifying to watch.

Allora: *pulls free of the hugs, looking herself over with wide eyes* What happened??

Taliesin: Oh nothing, just that the statue came alive and bit you!

Kaidan: You were glowin’ a whole lot again, and somethin’ came from the sky and blasted you with magical energy.

Inigo: You smell more like a dragon now than ever, as well. Smelly- but still you. How do you feel?

Allora: *flexes her claws, turning to look behind her, seeing her tail having much denser scales than before, reaching up and feeling the horns on her head, looking rather awed and grinning wide* All right. That's pretty awesome.

Inigo: Hehehe. I take it you like it then?

Allora: *carefully stretching her wings, blinking as they just move as easily as wanting to move an arm* Absolutely. This is so cool! I feel… really good! Like… *blinks, touching her sternum where she was bit* …

Lucia: Mama?

Allora: *huffs, rubbing her thumb against her chest* …I know what they did now. They couldn't join me to fix my soul, so they gave me a blessing- a power?- to fortify me. Make me stronger.

Kaidan: Join you?? As if ya don't all ready have dragons inside you!

Lucien: No, that… actually makes a lot of sense. I see now… *places a hand to his chin as he peers at the statue* It's not just Martin Septim inside that statue, but every Dragonborn that had been inside the amulet previous. Their want to join you stems from the amulet- but with it being destroyed, they can no longer do that. How fascinating.

Taliesin: All of that aside, you're sure you're all right? Not overly stressed, no threats of combustion?

Allora: …No. I think… I think whatever was done to me is affecting the others as well. Nahagliiv… he doesn't feel like he'll explode anymore. Everyone feels… really calm.

Taliesin: Well! That's rather fortuitous. I suppose we can sell off all the excess salves we have now.

Allora: I'd rather donate them to the temple back home. *looks up at the statue, smiling* …They were nice. They were proud of me. Nosy, very talkative. But nice.

Kaidan: Glad t'hear it. Now, let's get outta here.

Athrodite: If I may ask one last thing of you, Great One?

Allora: *shrugs* Sure.

Athrodite: May we receive a blessing from you?

Allora: *freezes* Uh… I don't… really know how to give one…?

Hilio: Whatever you wish for us to have, you need only focus on your power and bless it unto us!

Elona: For you, it could be as simple as a thought or chant!

Allora: Um… *thinks really hard for a minute, blinking* Oh. I think I have one from when I was younger… *clears her throat, trying to focus on their souls in tandem and remember the words* Uh… “Circle of stars, shining bright… grant my wish on this night. Shine down upon those I love- protection magic, sent from above. Keep them safe and well and warm, free from danger, fear, and harm. For the good of all, blessed be.”

The three are awash in gold light for a brief moment, and they're left beaming.

Athrodite: Thank you! Thank you, Great One!

Hilio: We're so grateful!

Elona: We will follow in your ways and honour you here amongst Akatosh and Arkay! Thank you!

Allora: *strained, folding her wings to her back and tiredly nods* Right. No problem. Are we free to go then?

Athrodite: Yes- absolutely, please, let us not keep you a moment longer. Safe journeys!

Hilio + Elona: Safe journeys! Blessings upon you!

[posttexasstressdisorder]

Dynaco Repair Post No. 4

Thursday evening, 12-21-23, later:

As I was saying, just a little careful polishing and the chassis already looks a lot better. And the can cap is almost exactly same height as the original:

A little more of that shine:

Once the new can was twist-locked into place with the four tabs, it was time to make the physical connections to all four of the terminals, and replacing the old resistors with some flameproof resistors I'd bought for another ST70 I redid about 15 years ago:

And here, finally is everything hooked up, crimped, and ready to be soldered:

Again, the 30-watt pencil is the way to go.

And THAT, believe it or not, completes ALL the repairs I needed to make to the Stereo 70! Now, all I need is a fresh quad of EL-34 output tubes...another $100 I don't have.

Tomorrow, I start in on finishing the PAS. The 12X4 got here, and I have work to do on the replacement switch. Dude had stripped the big flat caps wired in there, so I will have to cannibalize off my old one.

And one last "Glamour Shot", this time with the 7199 driver tubes in place, with the chassis and base shined up nicely:

(And yes, I put these awesome big-ass rubber feet on and it is so much better looking cageless, as well as easier to handle! And I can't help thinking it has to help keep the amp cooler than the original almost non-existent flat button feet.)

Friday evening, Dec 22, 2023

Well, I looked at that 3-wafer switch, and my little "fix" of wrapping wire around the broken bits, and decided I really had nothing to lose by putting the tubes in, including the NOS 12X4 rectifier tube, and attaching some improvised wiring up to my ancient (but still absolutely functional) Altec Lansing computer speakers as an amplifier.

I then dug out the wires for the turntable and its ground, and a functioning 1/8"-to-RCA cord to use as a test for all the other inputs.

IT WORKS!!! WE HAVE PHONO! WE HAVE ALL THE OTHER PERTINENT INPUTS AS WELL! Talk about relieved and elated! WooHOO! At least now I can get back to transcribing my vinyl to SSD via this beautiful critter, my Dual 1219, with Shure M91ED cartridge. Test record? My ancient 45 of "Green Eyed Lady" by Sugarloaf! ROCK OUT ON THAT ORGAN, JERRY CORBETTA!

Plugged the other patchcord into my laptop, and put Miss Nina Simone's "Little Girl Blue" (which I had transcribed before this mess all went down)...and it came through excellent on the "Spare", AM/FM (tuner) input. The only one that sounded a bit off was the 'FM MPX", which was actually only supposed to be one channel of the stereo FM, so that was to be expected, actually.

That 12X4 glowin' fine:

BUT: with the Spare and Phono both functional, as are the tape in/out jacks, I have everything I need, since I have a 3-source external selector box that will turn Spare into three separate additional inputs, thus, I can run my TV and DVD player into the tubes as well.

SO, I can call the PAS3X officially back in business again, and I have a spare source switch if I need it. That is big. I will spend the rest of the time this evening on putting the case back together and doing some more polishing on the ST-70.

SO the only thing we are missing for a Totally Tubular Xmas is a quad of EL34/6CA7 tubes!

More tomorrow as I finish up the detailing on both units.

And I will also show off my speakers that fill an empty spot in the Dynaco speaker line: a beast of my own creation, the speaker that never was, "The A-15" (lulz) I used 8" butyl-surround woofers and SEAS tweeters, encased in actual wood veneer Pioneer speaker cabinets.

The A-10 woofers were 6", and the A-25 were 10", these Pioneer boxes are perfectly sized to be infinite-baffle boxes, the woofers have exactly the right amount of room, and they sound amazing when the Stereo 70 is blasting through them.

AND ADDENDUM, 8:27pm: EL-34s ARE BEING MAILED TOMORROW! My bro over on the east coast is shipping them tomorrow...we will have TUBEAGE for XMAS!

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

LINKS TO THE PREVIOUS THREE REPAIR POSTS:

[ffxiv-swarm]

prompt 10: heady

At first, she didn’t realize what had happened. In the adrenaline frenzy of battle, all that mattered was to keep moving; the actual nature of what she was dodging or deflecting or sometimes—ow, shite, motherfucker—meeting head-on was irrelevant. It was only when the Queen lay slain that she could collapse in a corner, tend to her wounds, and realize that Vivian was staring at her.

Well, glaring at her, really. Their spectacles caught the light as they turned. “You moved,” they accused.

She blinked up at them. Of course she’d moved. In her usual squad she was the only one without the Echo; if she stood still every time a primal foe threw out its aether to temper them, she’d be enthralled a dozen times over. Vivian had to know that. “Aye...?”

They folded their arms, eyes narrowing. This soon after the battle there was no aether to spark at their fingertips, but she smelled ozone anyway. “I was shielding us, and you moved.”

Something cold slithered down her spine. She curled her tail into her lap, stroking the blades strapped to the end. “Oh.” No wonder Viv’s mad. That was bloody stupid of me, that was. But if she’d left safety, at least there hadn’t been any lasting damage. Had there? No. She looked down at herself, and then over at fallen Misija. “...I feel fine? And you know what I told you lot to do with her.” The Bozjans were being much, much nicer than she thought their foe warranted. Heads on spikes, that’s what Misija deserved.

Strangely, this didn’t seem to reassure her third-favorite mage at all. “She hit you. I saw it!”

She blinked. There had been a lot of...everything happening over the past half a bell or so. Nothing on her was charred or sliced or electrified any more than it usually was, but all of a sudden it came to her—she’d leapt and twisted, and it hadn’t been enough to stop her being engulfed in blue tempering light. Fuck. For a long moment, she couldn’t think. “...Uh,” she said finally.

She should have been tempered. She should have turned her gun and her fangs on her own comrades. That she hadn’t...well, there was only one explanation, impossible as it was. She remembered all too well Rita’s blinding headaches, the way Arenvald or Vivian or Krile were careful never to enter battle without support in case a vision took them. She’d never had anything like that. And yet...a primal had struck her, and here she was, safe. Because of this. The Echo.

Vivian must have come to the same conclusion. “Do you,” they began, and then shook their head. “Did you know?”

“No!” She was a gunner. A machinist. A gadgeteer. Sure, she was good with her hands, and materia came easily to her—hells, it practically fell out of her clothes after a day’s hard wearing—but she’d never—she wasn’t special like that. Except...apparently...she was. Me. I have the Echo. A primal tried to temper me, and I’m safe, because I have the Echo.

And then she started to giggle. I have the Echo! Me! With the adrenaline still buzzing through her, her laughter was more than a bit hysterical. Tail slapping the ground, she wheezed for breath and slowly keeled over sideways. “Bloody—swivin’—Nhaama’s blessed glowin’ tits...”

Even Vivian eventually cracked a smile, but it faded as soon as it always did. “We should tell the Bozjans.”

She didn’t feel like laughing anymore.

“Aw, hells.”

[nym-ia]

Avatar (#6) - FFXIV Write 2021

Length: 862 words

Warnings: None

Time Period: ??? (undetermined for now)

Character(s):

It was a relatively uneventful day for the Drowning Wench when divinity herself stepped off of the elevator. Hands on her hips and dressed like she had just come from a battle the world had never seen, she scanned the room with her brows furrowed.

She determined the exit quickly enough and began walking toward it when a loud voice suddenly startled her.

“Hup bup bup! Hey, you! Is that a… freakishly glowing axe I see on your back? Are you an adventurer?” The man standing behind the counter a decent distance away beckoned for her to approach.

Her ears laid back as she reluctantly walked toward the man, her arms folded to express her distaste.

“Who are ye?” He perked an eyebrow as he looked her up and down, mildly intimidated by her intense-looking gear.

“Thou dare ask?” She growled, finally looking at him straight in the face. “Bow, mortal! Thou art standing in the presence of a god!”

They stared at each other for a long, long time.

Like, a really long time.

He did not bow.

“...Uh. Huh. Yer not the first lass comin’ around here spoutin’ that nonsense. Talkin’ about bein’ a goddess and all that.” He rubbed his chin as he continued examining her. “Yea, actually, she was a mooncat much like yerself. Do ye know each other?”

“Another divine?” She perked up, clearly intrigued. “And here I thought this land of mortals wouldst be disappointingly dull.”

“Yea yea,” he began searching through the papers he had on the desk in front of him. “She registered as an adventurer with miss Momodi but I got the misfortune of meetin’ ‘er. Lessee… here it is, Ura Ailuro.”

The fiery-haired Miqo squinted. “Ailuro? Her name is cat? Perhaps this being thee speak of is an unknown god of… cats.”

“Whahuh? Yea, sure, whatever. Either way, I can’t let ye go anywhere with a weapon like that ‘til you register with the adventurer’s guild or tell me who’s responsible for ye.”

“I am responsible for myself, mortal.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ooookay, what’d be yer purpose for visitin’ Limsa Lominsa today?”

“If’t were up to me, I would not be wasting mine time here.”

He blinked at her. She wasn’t giving him much to work with. “Do ye wanna sign up for adventurin’?”

“Wouldst it permit me to leave this dastardly establishment?”

“Sure would.”

“So be it.”

He felt relief as he grabbed his pen. “Alroight, great! Now, what’s yer name?”

She clicked her tongue. “If thee must know, I am Ego, daughter of the great and wonderful goddess Azeyma.”

He blinked at her and then stifled a laugh. “Ego, huh? It suits ye. So that’s Azeyma for yer last name, then?”

“Divinity has no need for surnames.”

“Ego Azeyma it is,” he scribbled down her name, double checking to make sure he spelled it right. When he looked back up at her, her appearance had notably changed. “What- uh, how’d ye do that?”

“Do what mortal?”

He pointed at her, unsure where exactly he should. He focused on her weapon, “ye changed yer attire real quick, n’ that glowin’ axe looks all plain now.”

“WHAT?!” She quickly removed her axe from her back, only confirming what she’d been told. It forced her to look herself up and down. It was undeniable: she was suddenly wearing the normal, low-level clothes of a brand new Miqo’te adventurer.

“Impressive I reckon,” he leaned over the counter, trying to see if her armor was simply on the ground, but all he saw was her plain boots. “Though ye woulda had an easier time in that other stuff, it looked pretty strong.”

She turned her back to him, her body trembling with pure rage. She suddenly shot her fist up into the air, clutching her pathetically regular axe. “MUST THOU TAKETH EVERYTHING FROM ME?!”

She stood there, glaring at the ceiling (though presumably that was not the target of her anger) for some time, her axe still lifted to the heavens in her shaky hand. After whoever she was yelling at failed to respond, she pointed the axe at the man behind the counter.

“Where is the one you call Ailuro?”

He was sitting with his head relaxed in one hand, and it was clear there was a bit of annoyance on his face. “Oh, Ura? She’s been busy, I know that much. Hmm… I think she’s been hangin’ around the scions as of late, mayhaps she’s even joined ‘em. Ye’d have the best luck lookin’ among that crowd.”

“Very well.” She turned and began heading toward the exit she’d wanted to leave through so long ago, back when she still felt powerful.

“Hey! Yer gonna wanna help out the people of Limsa n’ get yerself some gear n’ gil, what ye got on now ain’t gonna protect ye much!”

The end of her tail became bushy as she hissed. “Very well,” she seethed through her teeth.

He watched her until she disappeared, and finally he sighed. “Adventurin’ sure attracts the weirdos.” He picked up a glass and began cleaning it, shaking his head for the rest of the night.

[scribbling-stiks]

AAR - I - Cleaning Up

'Hospital gowns,' Russia decides, 'are not comfortable.'

'America's lap was warm and comfortable though.'

The sun had begun to set, and the surroundings begin to grow dark. America had grown quiet, and Russia assumes he's asleep. But as the car grows dark, Russia notices something a little strange. A light blue glow surrounds him. It's faint. Very faint. He hadn't even noticed it until the sky was full of stars. Russia tries to ignore the fear building in his chest at the appearance of the moon. The glow is gentle, calming, and it makes his skin feel tingly and warm, as warm as it could feel.

'What is that? It looks like America's magic. But America's asleep.'

Russia raises his arm as high as he could, only a few centimeters, and drops it. No one looks. He tries again, and Texas spins around, with an anxious look he tries to hide lighting up his face.

Russia meets his eyes, and Texas relaxes. Then Texas scans over him with a strange look.

"What in tarnation? New Mex, look at Russia," Texas says, grabbing New Mexico by the shoulder.

"What?" New Mexico asks, turning around in her seat.

"Oh," New Mexico mutters, "Dad's magic?"

"I don't know. Could you turn Dixie off of mute?" Texas says, announcing the question to the front seat.

"Sure thing TexMex," Arizona replies.

"Don't call me that," Texas mutters.

"Hey, Dix. I got a question," Texas announces.

There is a short pause before anyone received an answer.

"Does it got something to do with them weird dogs in the trees?"

"No, it's about- wait, DOGS?!"

"Yeah. Listen, y'all shouldn't look, they ain't right."

Texas begins looking around, but Finland moves to block the window. Texas scowls but returns his gaze to Russia. His face softens seeing his father.

"Can Dad use his magic when he's sleepin'?" Texas asks, his eyes focused on Russia's arm.

"Wait, what do mean?" Canada's voice filters through the phone.

"Him and Russia are glowin'. Kinda. It just looks like Dad's using some healing magic or something," Texas explains.

"Dad still has magic to use?" Massachusetts asks.

"Yeah. I'm thinkin' it's cuz Dad is finally getting some sleep," New Mexico comments.

"He's sleeping?" Dixie asks incredulously.

"He's been sleeping for the past several hours. Why?" Finland responds, sounding confused.

"Dad just doesn't sleep much," Kansas explains.

Finland hums but doesn't say anything else.

"Well, that's good. Really good," Canada says, "he'll probably be feeling better as soon as he wakes up."

"What do you mean? How much does his healing magic help? I know countries heal faster than humans, and states," Finland adds as an afterthought, "but he was stabbed."

"He's stubborn," Dixie says, "he won't be able to lift anything, but he'll probably be up and moving around once he wakes up."

"He'll totally call the shower once we stop and get settled in," Arizona says with a laugh.

Dixie chuckles.

"Y'all think he'll insist that he's the once to clean up Russia too?" Texas asks.

Russia feels his mind freeze and embarrassment halts his thoughts.

'I... what?!? Clean...? Like a CHILD?!'

He feels the remains of his pride shrivel and closes his eyes. He can't force himself to meet anyone's eyes. If he could manage, he would have covered his face. He had already felt so flustered needing help with the bathroom, and now.

'This is so much worse.'

But he knew he couldn't really decline, as he couldn't speak. And he tried to slow down his heart rate.

'America doesn't know,' he thinks, trying to defend the sliver of dignity he could keep, 'he doesn't have to know.'

"What? What's going on?" America slurs with sleep.

'Oh no.'

"Oh! Hi Dad," Texas says with a nervous undertone, "how're you feeling?"

"Hey, Tiktac. I'm okay. How're you doing? You sound a little off."

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine. I'm just... nervous. Ya know, waiting to get attacked an all."

"Waiting to get attacked?!" New York shrieks.

"Yeah. It's what happened when we drove through the early morning when we first went through the mountains," Massachusetts explains, his voice sounds muffled through the speakers.

"Colorado!" New York yells.

"On a side note," Arizona loudly interjects, "Dad, how is your back feeling?"

"It's feeling a lot better. Still kinda hurts, but I'll manage."

"Yay! Could you get yourself all washed up?"

"Of course."

"And-"

'Please don't say anything.'

"Could you get Russia washed up too? The rest of us don't feel comfortable doing it. You know, with him being your boyfriend and all."

"I... probably. I wouldn't be able to carry him in there, but if you guys could get him into the bathroom, I can take it from there."

'Oh no.'

Russia knows that he hadn't been cleaned. Not really. He also remembers how Louisiana had New Mexico check for new infections where the IV was just a few hours ago.

'Was that even really a hospital?'

Thinking about it, he concludes that maybe it was, but the people there had other plans. And no training, if California was to be believed.

"Well, can all of you calm your t***s?"New Jersey asks.

"Well, I don't have those, soo," Kansas replies with a smirk.

"Shut the f*** up." New Jersey snaps.

"Anyway, we're about to pull up to the hotel, but whatever the f*** is following us is still pretty close," Massachusetts remarks.

"Sippi and I will go out and protect all y'all while y'all are goin' inside," Alabama volunteers.

"Y'all are NOT goin' by yourselves," Dixie says.

"I'm goin' with 'em," Texas says.

"Me too," New Mexico volunteers.

The car fills with the calls of other states and a few provinces who agreed to go armed to walk the rest of the group inside.

Finland picks Russia up easily, and Russia just feels happy that he's still wrapped up in blankets. The states who weren't watching the shadows were throwing suitcases out of the backs of cars and trucks as fast as they could.

Someone tosses Texas his hat, who hoots wildly with a grin.

"H*** YEAH!" Texas cheers.

Tennessee elbows him harshly, and Texas calms down slightly. Russia internally chuckles.

"You need to get cleaned up," Finland mutters. But her tone is less angered than Russia would expect.

America hobbles into the hotel room's bathroom, and the water tuns on. Finland stands by the door while Kansas, Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas settle into one of the beds and the pull-out couch.

Then America pokes his face out of the door.

"You can bring him in here," America says.

Russia closes his eyes in embarrassment.

"Just put him in. We aren't keeping the hospital gown anyway." America says.

Russia sees Finland shrug and he's put into the tub with his back leaned against the side and is blasted with water. He flinches, expecting it to be freezing. He sits there for a moment, his eyes scrunched shut, until his mind registers that the water was warm.

He relaxes slightly.

"Hey, you didn't expect me to blast you with cold water, right?" America asks with a chuckle.

Russia can't meet his eyes.

America sighs, then props Russia up a little further and unties the knot of the gown on the back of his neck.

"Hey, I get it. I honestly kept checking it cuz every time I looked, it looked like it would be freezing and I didn't wanna risk you getting cold," America says, gently removing the gown.

Russia feels exposed and very embarrassed. America seems to ignore the awkwardness of the situation that drowns Russia's rational thinking.

'The only time I wanted you to see me like this is when I could take your clothes off.'

These thoughts did NOT help his already flustered mental state.

America gets back to his feet and grabs some things off the counter.

Russia still couldn't believe that America had to wash him like a small child. He feels mortified but finds a silver lining in the fact that America was the only one doing this.

"Okay," America starts gently, "I'm gonna start at your legs and go up, okay?"

Russia tries his best to nod, and America takes the affirmation as permission to start.

Most of the sensation in his legs is still numb, but America is still gentle. Gently washing out whatever had been ignored for the nurses, though the more Russia thinks about it, the more he doubts that any of those nurses were nurses at all.

He remembered how California had ranted on the car ride through the group call, loud enough to wake him up, about how she had to fix the butchered surgery with New York, and how America only survived because he was a country with how botched it was. How the 'surgical team' left two scalpels and a pair of scissors in the crooked sutures. How nothing was lined up or healing correctly. How Louisiana was the only thing that kept back any infection.

How they had fixed it. How it was a huge emergency and how New York and California had to hurriedly research and redo surgery in secret due to their, not unfounded, suspicions.

How the only reason they stayed was for Russia because they weren't sure if they could move him. How they rushed out so fast because they had wanted to leave for almost a week.

He couldn't help but feel touched that they stayed for him, but his stomach churned at how badly it had gone for America.

'No one in that building had any medical training.'

The realization hits him like a brick to the chest.

Seething fury. The thoughts have him wishing he could move, if only to strangle the 'doctor's who did that and caused more suffering to both America and his children. He takes a deep breath and tries to return his focus to America.

'I can't lash out. Not now. Not at America.'

America had made it up to his chest. Russia hadn't even realized he had been lifted up or that the backs of his legs or lower back had been attended to.

'That might be for the best.'

He knows, had it been possible, his face would have turned beet red.

America gets to his hands and holds them before rinsing them off.

Russia notices how the smell that had clung to him since the dead animals incident began to actually fade. The air was clearing.

"Okay Ruski," America mutters, "you gotta close your eyes, okay?"

Russia complies.

Russia finds himself relaxing, as much as he could, as America tenderly rubs away the grim from his face. It seems to take a few tries to get the dried slime off his cheek.

Gentle, caloused hands begin scrubbing out his hair.

"It's been so long since I've seen your hair actually white," America says with an audible smile. Russia smiles back as well he can.

Russia tries to pay all his attention to the gentle actions. He feels so fuzzy. So loved. So cared for.

America dumps some water over his face, and he holds his breath.

He basks in the affection. Sure, this is still a situation that mortified him to no end, because of his lack of autonomy, but decides, since he can't do anything to stop it, to try to ignore it as best he could.

Eventually, he's dried off and clothed, his hair fluffed up by the towel.

America giggles and kisses him on the forehead.

"Your hair looks so cute," America says between muffled laughter.

Finland carries him out and dumps him onto the bed. America closed the bathroom door behind them and cleans himself off before stumbling back out. With New Mexico and Kansas' help, America makes it onto the bed.

America crawls across it and cuddles into Russia's side. Kansas laughs and helps adjust the blankets to be lying on top of them. America wraps himself up tightly and begins stroking Russia's clothes with an arm poking out of the bundle he had buried himself in.

'He's adorable.'

America shifts around and pulls Russia to his chest. America buries his face into Russia's hair. America breaths in and sighs. He nuzzles Russia's hair.

"It's nice, you know? You smell nice again," America mumbles into his hair. Russia feels a little flustered, but content.

"Y'all are sweet," Texas coos. Russia feels his heart swell at the implied approval. America hums, and falls asleep against Russia.

"I'll keep watch," Finland volunteers. She sits in the uncomfortable hotel chair, facing the hotel door. Russia drifts off, feeling warm and loved.

~

Next

Previous

Table of Contents

[sweets-fanfics]

Homecoming 16

Title: Beginning of the break

wordcount: 2738

warning: I tried smut. Maybe I’ll be more adventurous in later chapters.

Tag: @rollyjogerjones

_____________

You walked up to Luca and gave him a painfully obvious fake smile. 

He grinned as you stopped in front of him, “I take it, your father said to be nice to me.” 

“Against my wishes, yes.” You roll your eyes. “I suggested we just ignore you, but my father wants us to be nice.” 

“He probably wants to stay on my father’s good side.” He stepped closer and ran his hand down your arm softly. “How do you want to do that.”

“By being able to go tonight without killing you. So remove your hand from my arm before that happens.”

Luca chuckled and stepped back. “Then at least watch the fireworks with me.” 

You rolled your eyes again but followed him. Soon you realized he took you to a small bench away from everyone. “If you are going to make a move on me I will actually kill you.” You warn him.

“Y/N, please sit, my father’s men won’t hear us here,” Luca says in a serious tone. His entire demeanor from being a flirty asshole was gone and replaced with what looked like the old Luca who would run into the music shop every day. 

You sit next to him a bit cautious, “Okay…?”

“Firstly, I’m sorry for acting the way I did back there. My father sadly expects it of me. Secondly, I feel you and your friends should not listen or take any advice my father gives you.”

“What? Why?”

Luca ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, “I think he’s going to betray you. I… Some men came in dark suits and had asked if they had seen the Van Der Linde gang.” Your blood went cold as you listened silently, “My father took them into his study and they talked in there for hours. I wasn’t even allowed inside.”

“Wait… So you aren’t an asshole?” You said registering everything.

He let out a chuckle, “That’s what you say after all that?” He gives you a kind smile, “You are still exactly the same girl who worked in the music shop. I’m sorry… I hurt you very badly back then. My father is insane. But I do love my wife, I promise. She’s the only I’ve been telling everything too. She suggested I tell you.”

Luca takes your hand and squeezes it. “You and your people have to Leave Saint Denise if you want to live.” 

“I… I’ll talk to my father. But he… he’s been difficult.” You sigh.

“I’m glad you got to meet him. Has he been everything you wanted?” Luca smiles.

You shrug your shoulders, “Yes and no. He’s given me and Henry a family, but I feel more that he has let us in to have more people on his side… and not because he genuinely loves us.”

“Yeah… fathers are horrible creatures at times… But at least yours seems kinder than most. And you’re husband, I assume you met him through your father?”

You smile thinking back to the day you met Arthur, “I met him first actually, he walked into the saloon I was bartending in.” You start to laugh, “I was really tight on money and tried to steal his money.”

Luca is still smiling at you but you can see it become shocked. “Miss Y/N, I seem to remember you sayin’ you’ll never be like your father.”

“Well, that was before I met them. Is it sad I feel like I’m gettin’ a hang of this life? But, I want Arthur and me to leave it, we want a family one day.”

The fireworks had begun but you and Luca kept talking. “Well… When you two feel you are ready, my wife and I will help you where we can.” He nodded to himself as if he made up his mind.

“Luca… You don’t have too…”

“I know. But you can see it as redemption for how I hurt you. You don’t have to accept right now. But please, think it over.” You two smiled at each other. 

You both were so into trying to hear each other over the fireworks you didn’t notice Arthur walk up until he touched your arm softly. You glance up at him and smile. You don’t notice how Luca watches your eyes light up and fill with love the moment you see your cowboy.  Luca simply stands and holds his hand out to Arthur.

Arthur glances at you as if asking for approval. “He’s on our side. We talked it over.” You say. Arthur nods and shakes Luca’s hand.

“Mrs. Morgan, I will let you know if I hear anything else. Also, again, please think over my proposal with your wonderful husband here.”

“I will Mr. Bronte. Tell your wife I said thank you.” Luca leaned forward and kissed your forehead before bowing his head to Arthur and rejoining the party.

“Are there two of him?” Arthur asks as he takes your hand.

“Turns out he has been our fly on the wall with Bronte since we ran into him in town.” You say in a hushed voice. “He thinks we shouldn’t trust his father… There is somethin’ else but I feel my father and Hosea should hear it too.”

“I came to get ya cause Dutch had your brother sneak some papers from the mayor's office. He says it’s time to go.”

You smile and loop your arm through his. “Well, then I believe we are done here.”

______

The five of you climbed into the coach before Lenny began driving. You immediately take your braid out and sigh. 

“Luca Bronte thinks we shouldn’t trust his father.” 

“I don’t very much trust him either.” Hosea agrees.

“Well now. Let’s see how that trolley thing goes.” Dutch says trying to defend Bronte as Henry hands him the papers he nabbed. 

“Luca said men in suits came to Bronte and asked if he had seen us. From the description, it sounds like Pinkertons.” You warned your father who you noticed did not look as worried as you thought.

“I doubt it was them. And if it was we will be fine.”

You glance at Henry but you didn’t see the same doubt. “I think we should trust our father. You know he’d never steer us wrong.”

You shoot your twin a dirty look, “I’m not saying I don’t trust him. I’m just thinking of the others in our group who may be worried if they find out the Pinkertons are closer than we thought.” 

“Then let’s keep it from them. Just for now.” Dutch simply said with a shrug. You knew the conversation was over you sighed and sat back in your seat.

___________

When you all returned to the house you didn’t wait for any of the men to help you. You hopped out and walked up to your room. Arthur walked in shortly after you and smirked as you struggled to undo the ribbons of your dress. 

He came up behind you and softly put your hands down before untying the dress and helping you slip out of it.  He turned you around and wrapped his arms around your waist. 

Your face was red but you weren’t as embarrassed that you were standing in his arms wearing just undergarments. He had seen you fully naked plenty of times. This was no different. 

“I know you are probably stressed.” He says softly. “And I think I know how to help you relax.” You looked up into his blue-green eyes as he gave you a flirty smirk before his lips crashed into yours. 

He walked you back towards the bed as you struggled to get his tux off. He started to chuckle as you struggled with the buttons on his shirt. He stepped back softly pushing you onto the bed. He quickly slipped his shirt off and his pants leaving him in his own undergarments.

Before you could even attempt to help them with that off he slips off your bottoms leaving you exposed to him. He begins to kiss your jaw and neck as he slips a finger between your folds. You cover your mouth to suppress your moan as he immediately hits your sensitive spot. You could feel him smile as he continues to kiss your neck before moving and kissing your lips again. 

“Just relax, my love,” Arthur hums softly. “I’m going to help you feel good.” 

Arthur begins to kiss down your body. He stops at your breast as he puts a nipple in his mouth and squeezes the other. His tongue plays with your nipple before he switches sides. You keep your mouth covered but he’s making it hard to stay quiet. 

Arthur continues to go down your body until his face is between your legs. You look down at him as he smiles up at you. “What should I do?” He asks acting naive. 

His finger is still inside you making it hard for you to answer him without moaning. He chuckles every time you open your mouth and have to shut it right away as he teases you. “I can’t hear you, my love.” He hums.

“Please don’t stop.” Was all you were able to get out without moaning.

“I guess that’ll do.” He smirked before lowering his head between your legs and helping you forget all about the stresses of the night.

______________

In the morning you hear voices. Without seeming awake you feel around to make sure you have some sort of clothes on before peaking to see who is in the room. 

Dutch is leaning against the door frame talking to Arthur. You feel the shirt on you so you are able to sit up slowly and glance at the two men.

As you rub your eyes Arthur gives you a soft smile. “How did you sleep, dear?” He asks. You notice how his attention fully shifts to you as if your father wasn’t even in the room anymore. 

“I slept well.” You glance at Dutch. “Can you two talk outside so I can get dressed?” 

“It’s okay. I’ll leave you two alone.” He smiles and walks off leaving you and Arthur alone.

“Does he normally stare at us sleep?” You ask. 

Arthur chuckles as he walks up to you and kisses your forehead. “He wanted to talk about last night. And he said somethin’ about gambling on a boat.”

What a dumb idea, you thought to yourself. “Who’s goin’?” You ask as you pull your skirt on.

“Javier, Trelawny, Staus and me apparently. I have to meet Trelawny in Saint Denise to get ready.” He makes quotation marks with his hands as he says ‘get ready’ which makes you laugh.

“Sounds fun.” Arthur walks up and wraps his arms around you.

“Somethin’ seems different about you today.” He hums and twirls you around before wrapping his arms around your middle again. 

“Bad different?” You wonder.

He huffs a chuckle, “No… almost like you’re glowin’ a bit.”

You get on your tippy-toes and kiss his lips, “Well I had a rather amazing night.” You whisper.

“Oh, you did?” He hums as he kisses you back.

“Y/N, I need you and Charles to go hunting.” You hear Dutch call from somewhere in the house.

You groan and place your head on Arthur’s chest as he laughs. “I swear, that man knows every time I’m in your arms.”

“He’s probably tryin’ to keep ya busy. You tend to get into trouble when you’re bored.” Arthur pokes your nose and places his hat on your head.

“Arthur, I got my hat…” You say as he shrugs.

“Just watch it for me, okay?” He starts to leave the room but backtracks back in. “Also, I love you so damn much.”

“Well thank god,” You pretend to look relieved as you braid your hair, “Because I love you just as much.”

Arthur rolls his eyes and smiles before heading out.

___________

You walk outside and Charles is already getting both his horse and Suzie ready. You skip up to him and smack Charles’s shoulder. He jumps a bit as you realized he didn’t see you walk up.

“Hello Charles, I heard I’m your hunting partner today.” You smile as you climb on to Suzie.

“Yes, I think I know a great place too.” 

Before you two head out you hear some really bad coughing behind you. You turn and see Henry cough into a rag before quickly putting it away.

“Henry, I think you should see a doctor…” You sigh. 

“I’ll be fine sister.” He assures you as he gets on Lightning.

“Where do you think you’re goin’?” You ask.

“How about you don’t bother the man.” Micah groans lazily as he and his horse trot by. “Not like you’re his parent.”

“I’m allowed to worry about my brother, Mr. Bell.”

“Micah just said he wants to show me his idea for a job is all.” Henry smiles.

“Henry, I don’t believe Micah Bell is a good influence.” 

Micah rolls his eyes at your comment, “Come on Henry, you don’t need your killjoy of a sister to control your life.”

You suppress the need to shoot the man as he and your brother ride off. “Why is Micah with us?” You ask Charles.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

____________

At some point during hunting you got separated from Charles. You looked around the heavily wooded area trying to get some sense of where you were. Hell, you couldn’t even find Suzie. 

You tried whistling but heard no response. 

“It’s about time your alone.” You hear a voice behind you making you spin and pull your pistol. 

“Agent Milton…” You say softly as the man walks out from behind a tree.

“I’m alone and not here to hurt you.” He raises his hands slowly. “I just wanted to talk.” As he talks you here a leaf crunch beside you. 

You aim your gun in that direction. “Alone, huh?” Before he can respond you fire and an agent falls to the ground crying out in pain and grabbing his shoulder.

“So much like your father.” 

“What do you want?” You ask.

“I need more ears on the inside to help take your father down. We’ll pay you handsomely and I’ll even make your husband’s record disappear.” 

You glare at him, “Why would I ever help you. And what do you mean ‘more’?” 

“Ah, you caught on to that.” He slowly walks up to you. “Micah Bell has been gladly giving me information since right before the Rhodes incident.”

Your blood goes cold as you listen to him. But honestly, you aren’t shocked. “Why would you tell me this?” Why would he give such honest information?

“Because I know you won’t rat him out. We both know how Mr. Bell is, he’ll kill you before you even open your mouth.”

You scoff, “He can try.” 

Milton suddenly has a pistol inches from your forehead. You feel pretty proud of yourself as you don’t flinch and continue to stare him down. “Think about it. Or, I’ll pay you a less kind of a visit.” 

Milton walks over to the agent and helps them up. As they disappear from sight you finally feel yourself relax.

___________

Arthur is not pleased as he rides into camp soaking wet. Sure he got some cash, but he didn’t think he’d be swimming in the damn river. As he hitches up Athena you and Charles ride back into camp. 

For once it’s Charles talking and you staying silent.

“Y/N, are you sure you’re okay? You seem off.” Arthur hears Charles ask you. He glances over his shoulder at you and sees your face is pale. Curious he walks over and takes the pelts from Suzie. 

“I’m fine, I told you… a snake scared me is all.” Arthur can tell right away you aren’t telling the truth.

“It’s okay Charles, as tough as she may be my wife does have a fear of snakes,” Arthur says as he glances at you. By the look on your face, he can tell you’re grateful.

Finally, Charles sighs and takes his horse to another hitching post. As soon as he’s out of ear sight and you’re off Suzie, Arthur grabs your hands and pulls you into a hug so he can talk to only you.

“What happened?” He asks.

“I… I can’t say.” Is all you’re able to get out.

[shandidellamorte]

~StarChild Assassin Side Story 9~

Haven’t updated this in a while cause I wasn’t sure where to go with it next. I’m still not sure but maybe I’ll figure it out while I’m writing it! XD

~Shandi

Demon gets the perfect opportunity to test Stanley further..

THE DEMON’S SINFUL TOUCH Part 4

The moment they entered the foyer many eyes turned to them, which immediately made Stanley self-conscious. “Why..are they staring at us..?” Demon shook his head. “Us? Oh no. They’re staring at you~”

“I wish they wouldn’t..” 

“Why not? You’re the best looking one here. Let them envy you~” 

Stanley wasn’t certain if he could see it that way, but he’d have to force himself to try. There was no ducking out of this. While a servant took their coats an older man approached them. “You made it, Simmons!” he said, taking Demon’s hand and shaking it. “Now that you’re here we can get down to business!” Stanley recoiled a little when the man looked at him with a little too much interest for his liking. “And who might this be~?” Demon was quick to show off his ‘business smile’. “Did you think I wouldn’t come? This is an important night after all~” He wrapped an arm around Stanley’s waist and held him close. “This is Stanley Eisen. He’s going to be working for me soon. Stanley, this is one of my partners Bill Aucoin.” 

“It’s nice to..meet..you..” Stanley trailed off when Bill took his hand and kissed it. “The pleasure is mine~ This is why we leave finding the attractive ones to you, Simmons. You always come through for us~” What the hell was he talking about? Stanley looked at Demon confused, who just responded with a shrug. Well, that doesn’t help. And it certainly doesn’t help him not rule out the possibility that he was lied to about the prostitution thing. The regrets of agreeing to this were starting to pile up. Bill led them to the dining hall where the majority of people were gathered. Stanley held onto Demon’s arm tightly so they wouldn’t get separated. He wasn’t a fan of crowded rooms. All too quickly he could feel himself becoming overwhelmed. He excused himself to go out to the balcony for some air and much needed space. He leaned against the railing, taking a few deep breaths to collect himself.

“Bit of a sardine can in there innit?” 

Stanley jumped. He didn’t realize someone else was right next to him! Then again he was too busy having a panic attack to notice anything. Firm hands steadied him by taking hold of his shoulders. “Easy. Can’t have ya takin’ a tumble. Long way down.” He turned to express his gratitude, only to blush instead. This man looked good. Dressed all in black leather with wild, spiky bright blond hair. And that accent~ “Thank you~ I..I hope I don’t sound weird but..I like your accent. Are you British?” 

“S’right. Believe me it’s not weird. I get that a lot.” 

“I’ve actually never met a British person before. I feel kinda lucky that you’re my first~ I’m Stanley.” 

“Pleasure~ Name’s Billy. Who’re ya here with?” 

“Do you know Demon?” 

“Oh that guy. Yeah I hear about him..but not in glowin’ terms.” 

“W-what do you mean..?” 

“Ole bastard Bill’s been schemin’ to give ‘im the ax. S’all he’s been talkin’ about for weeks. Matter of fact I’m s’posed to do the job.” Stanley backed away with wide eyes. “Y-you’re an assassin..?” Billy smirked. “Quick one aren’tcha? It’d just break my heart to slit such a pretty lil’ throat..so I’m warnin’ ya as a favor. I suggest gettin’ out while the gettin’s good.” Stanley could barely process what he just heard! He wanted so much to believe it was a joke, but the sinister look in those dark blue eyes was definitely no joke. Panic quickly set in again. “P-please don’t.. I..I don’t know what that man has told you but he’s wrong! It’s all lies!” Billy just laughed while he lit a cigarette. “How d’you know, luv? You barely know ‘im. You’re a pretty naive little flower~ How ‘bout findin’ someone less dirty to help ya bloom?” The next words out of Stanley’s mouth were said out of desperation more than actual rational thought. “I bet you can help~” 

“Me? I’m flattered, Sweetheart...but I’m gettin’ paid a lot of money for this job.” 

“Whatever Aucoin is paying you he’ll double it.”

“Yeah? How can you be sure?” 

“I’ll talk to him myself. Just..give me a chance..please..?” Billy stared at him while taking a long drag from his cigarette and blowing the smoke out of his nose. “Mm..you’re lucky I’m weak for big puppy dog eyes. Go on then. Have a talk with your Demon. I’ll be waitin’.” Heaving a relieved sigh he kissed Billy’s cheek and ran back inside. 

Stanley frantically weaved through the crowd looking for any sign of Demon. When he finally found him he was sitting at the bar. Right next to Bill. He went up to them slowly and tapped Demon on the shoulder, who turned to him and smiled. “Oh, there you are! Come and meet some of Bill’s associates. I’ve told them all about you~” He faked a smile and waved. “I’m sorry to intrude on introductions, Demon but I really need to speak with you. Right now.” Narrowing his eyes, Demon got up from his chair and let Stanley lead him away. “What’s going on? Is there a problem?” 

“H-how well do you know Mr. Aucoin?” 

“We’ve been partners for over 10 years. Have you heard something?”

“More than that. He’s been plotting against you for some time. I met the man he hired to kill you tonight.” 

“You saw his face? Why didn’t he kill you?” 

“I..told him you’d pay him double to call off his hit. And he..said he liked my eyes~ Will you meet with him?” Demon clearly looked amused. “Hah. Alright then. Let’s see what this assassin has to say~” 

Out on the balcony Billy put out his latest cigarette and tossed it away. Upon Stanley’s return with Demon he nodded to them. “If it isn’t the man himself~ Didn’t think you’d actually come back with ‘im. Good on ya~” Demon laughed. “He actually hired the infamous Billy Idol to eliminate me? I suppose I should feel flattered~” Billy shrugged. “You should be thankin’ Sweetheart here, Simmons.” He pulled Stanley close to him and grabbed his ass. “You’d be dead right now if he didn’t plead for your piddly lil’ life~” Scowling, Demon crossed his arms. “He told me what he offered you on my behalf. Will you accept it?” 

Sure I will..on one condition~” 

“What condition?” 

“You lemme have Sweetheart for a night. Maybe two~” He turned and brushed his lips against Stanley’s neck. “A small sacrifice worth your life innit~?” Stanley’s mind raced. Should he even consider doing this? The choices were extremely limited. If he didn’t there was no doubt that somebody would die that night. He couldn’t possibly live with that on his conscience. Not that willfully cheating on his boyfriend was any better. He’d have to live with that instead. “Don’t be stressin’ y’self, Sweetheart~” Billy said, interrupting his thoughts. “I keep my promises. You come with me..nothin’ happens to him~” Demon frowned. “Stanley..if you--”

“No. I’ll do it.” 

The gears in Demon’s mind were already starting to turn. “Keep in contact with me, Idol. I have a plan that just might be beneficial to all of us. For now I think it’s best that I disappear. If Aucoin thinks he can betray me without me finding out he’s sorely mistaken.” He stroked Stanley’s hair affectionately. “I want you to be brave for me, my lovely little Starlight. This is just the nature of our business. It’ll become second nature to you in time. There are no emotions involved unless you bring them in. Can you remember that?” Easier said than done. “Y-yes..I can remember.” Billy hugged his waist and led him off the balcony. “There’s nothin’ to be afraid of..I’m not gonna hurtcha~ I may be a killer but I’m not a bastard~” Stanley just nodded slowly. “I just..want everything to be okay..” 

“Trust me, luv. When you’re with me, nothin’ else is gonna matter~” 

As Billy kissed him he forced one thought to dominate his mind. 

It’s only part of the job.

To be Continued!!

[hancocksspouse]

Ch 10

Muscular, nice hair, charming, looked good covered in dirt or grease.

The look had a name and it went by Sturges. Hell, who didn’t love the rugged grease monkey with the southern sounding accent?

Everyone found him attractive, even Hancock, who definitely wouldn’t deny taking a gander at him while he worked, his overalls hugging him just right around the thighs while he dabbed at the sweat going down his neck with his bandana and god in heaven, his arms.

He was starting to notice a pattern here but didn’t have time to think on it as the eye candy he was taking in turned his head to him and gave him a nod.

“So, how’s y’all’s adventures through the commonwealth goin’?” Sturges asked, doing last minute checkups and inspections on Doll’s power armor. Hancock smirked and shrugged.

“Ah, you know. Raiders, ferals, radiation, the Institute. Same old, same old, brother”, he said, lighting a cigarette and taking a long breath. “Speakin’ a which, how well is that armor gonna hold up in the glowing sea?”

Sturges raised his brows a bit, running diagnostics on the armor.

“Should hold up just fine, really”, he said with a nod.

“That’s good to hear”, Doll said, popping up behind him, almost scaring the man. Sturges shook his head and chuckled before turning back to the armor.

“Ya did some damn fine work on her so gettin’ through the glowin’ sea should be a cake walk. Best suggestion I can give ya is to use your vault suit under it since it’s a long walk”, he said, jerking his chin to her torn jeans and flannel. “Them suits are made for long term wear in weird conditions”.

She nodded her head, patting her hand against the chest of it.

“I’ll make sure to change into it before we leave. Gotta get some stuff here fixed up before we head out”, she said, heading towards the bridge leading into Sanctuary Hills where turrets were sitting, awaiting maintenance. Between her backside in those ripped jeans and Sturges’ backside in his overalls, Hancock didn’t know which way to plant his line of sight and took a long drag of his cigarette, smirking to himself.

“Real blessin’ in disguise, huh?” Sturges said. Hancock blinked and turned his attention back to him.

“Whatdya mean?” He asked. Sturges smiled and looked from him to Doll.

“I mean that one over there. Can’t think of a time a vault dweller came out into the ‘wealth ready to take on the world, but hell, I guess they’re real”.

He was about to agree until he saw the other man bend over to pick up some tools, making him glad he couldn’t sweat anymore when he followed up the motion with standing up straight and rolling his shoulders, making his back muscles flex against his shirt. Hancock was good and spaced out, not realizing Sturges noticed him staring and chuckled.

“See somethin’ there ya like, Mr. Mayor?” He laughed, actually flattered by the obvious gawking. Hancock smirked again and shrugged.

“Quite often these days. Gotta appreciate it while I can, ya feel me?” Sturges chuckled, walking towards Hancock while tinkering with something in his hand before locking eyes with him.

“Not yet, I haven’t”, he smirked and winked, before walking off to the other half of the settlement. Hancock stood still, thrown for a loop before shaking his head and smiling to himself.

“Yea, I still got it”.

-

Every time she had to climb into a suit of power armor, she was suddenly all too aware of how claustrophobic she was and it made things difficult sometimes.

She just zipped up her suit when it hit her and she clenched her eyes shut, taking in a deep breath as she laced up her boots.

‘You’re not doing this for fun. You’re doing this for Shaun. Pull it together’, she thought to herself, pulling her hair back into its half bun and walking out of the house to the power armor stand where her suit was sitting, back facing outward so she could crawl right in.

It was just her at the moment and she took a second to shake out her hands and legs and take deep breaths to get her nerves in check.

‘It’s just for today. You’ll be fine. It’s for your own safety’, she told herself, eyes still shut as she lightly jumped up and down on her tip toes, rolling her neck.

“You’re fine. Pull it together”, she murmured to herself as she bounced in place to try to loosen up and relax.

She was stuck enough in her own head to not notice Hancock coming out of the house after chatting with Mama Murphy and the first sight he was greeted with was Doll’s backside jiggling around as she jumped.

‘Maybe today is gonna be good after all’, he thought, watching for a moment longer and lighting another cigarette. A sigh escaped him once he realized why she was shaking herself out so much and he almost felt bad for ogling.

Almost.

“Ain’t a fan of tight spaces, huh?” He said, making her turn his way. She let out a dry laugh and clenched her jaw.

“Nope. Hate ‘em. Can’t really be helped, though, so I’m gonna have to suck it up and just do it”, she said, squatting as she put her hands through her hair before resting her elbows on her knees. “Can’t trust anybody else to do this and I ain’t gonna risk someone else getting hurt trying to find this guy”.

Hancock squatted down beside her and offered her a cigarette which she gladly took and stuck between her lips. He went rummaging through his pockets for his lighter until she grabbed the back of his head and pulled him forward, almost forehead to forehead, and pressed her cigarette to his, taking a few breaths until it was lit.

“Thanks”, she mumbled, pulling back and taking a deep drag. He grinned and waggled his no brows.

“Anytime, sunshine. ‘Course, if you wanna just lay one on me next time, you don’t gotta use the cigarette as an excuse”, he teased, making her laugh and loosen up a bit, distracting her from the claustrophobia.

“I’ll remember that”, she smiled.

A few minutes passed and Doll flicked the butt of her cigarette away as she stood, her knees popping.

“Alright. Enough stalling. We gotta go”, she said, shaking herself out and turning to the power armor hunched over. Hancock stood as well, looking at the suit.

“Ya know, if it helps, I’ll carry your helmet for a while”, he said. “You don’t have to actually wear it til we get to the edge of the glowing sea”. She mulled the thought around for a moment and smiled.

“Sure. Thanks, Hancock”.

She carefully climbed into the suit and let it clamp shut around her as Hancock carefully took her helmet off, stuffing it into his bag.

“Does that help at all?” He asked, brow raised in concern. She nodded and took a deep breath.

“A lot actually. I appreciate it”.

“Eh, it’s what I’m here for. Now, let’s get this freak show on the road”, he grinned.

-

I have been very busy and tired. I have not abandoned this, I promise. I know it’s short but for now, it’s all I’ve got.

[thesickbcy]

Idle fingers brush together as he stands on a very small mound of whithered yellow overlooking a wide circular expanse of vibrant green. Colors fade from bright to dark, but the center-most point is the brightest and liveliest in color. The unchecked grass sways in the wind, long and slender, waving at him tenderly from where it grew. Fae’s glamoured fingers rub together once more, feeling the sensation of warmth from fake flesh and the cold of metal rings coiled around his fingers. The other hand of his, held tight to his clothed chest, tightened slightly around a boquet of three white tulips, several purple hyacinth, and three black roses. The plastic crinkled around them as he made his way towards the center of the Eye, finally feeling brave enough to pry himself from the endless pine trees that surrounded the sacred grounds he stepped upon.

In the center of the massive faerie circle (the Eye of the forest, as it were) sat three pillars of stone. The one to the left was the smallest, the roundest and smoothest (almost worn down into a ball rather than a pillar), and sat slightly tilted. The one on the right was a bit taller than the first, with a pointed head and several flattened sides, almost as if it were a pencil made of stone. Bits and pieces of it had been chipped out by the world. The center pillar was the tallest, reaching up to about Fae’s height, and it remained a simple cylinder with a round ball sitting atop it. The ball itself had seven prongs sticking out of it, all connected by a single halo; a simple sun statuette.

At the bottom of each pillar was a plaque. The first plaque read the name KEATON “PARCE” BISHOP, with a date that lasted only eight years beneath it. The second plaque was for a woman named MICHIKO “HAGRAVEN” BEAU, and her date indicated she had died when she was only foury-two years old. The third and final plaque read KAIROS “FAE” BISHOP. He had died when he was only twenty-one.

He stands before the three pillars - specifically, before his mother’s gravestone - and looks them over. The years trapped within the Eye had kept them safe, although the typical wear ‘n’ tear nature caused were beginning to show. Fae’s own grave seemed to suffer the most damage, which didn’t bother him as much as it probably should have. He really only comes here once in a while to tend to the grounds, bring some flowers, mend the stones. Though, his job’s getting more and more persistent, meaning he has less and less time to come by.

“Heh... sorry, Ma. Didn’t mean t’make ya wait. Life’s gettin’ real busy now that ol’ Asswipe’s makin’ me his real heir.”

Fingers pick at the plastic wrap around the flowers, rubbing it between newfound nerves and sinew to get a feel for it. Everything felt so different when glamoured. Like it was... number. Duller. Life wasn’t as technicolor for humans and monsters as it was for the Fae. He kind of misses it.

“I know how it is with the fae ‘n’ witchy kind, but I think you’d really like it down there. It’s beautiful, vibrant. Bright. You were never really one for much color, but I think you could get behind the pretty yellow flowers ‘n’ the glowin’ pink drinks we serve. They remind me’a you every time I see ‘em.”

He stops fiddling with the plastic for now, breathing in deep and holding a lungful of air. Something he hasn’t done in so long. What else is there to say to her? He can’t really excitedly tell her about his day job, and his night one isn’t much better. There’s really not much to do here anymore, is there? Except for the promise.

“I can’t remember if this was ever a real thing ya said or if it’s just my imagination, but. I think it was real. ‘Least... it helps me thinkin’ it was real. So, lemmie be selfish for one last time and continue on believin’, yea?”

He always asks so much of her. Let him be selfish. Let him go fight. Let him take care of the household. A whole lot of good that got him, huh? Fae’s aware he’s a selfish, greedy little man. Didn’t matter his intentions. Good, bad, in the end it all turned out the same: he ruined their lives by being selfish. By trying too hard to be the good guy, the hero. Maybe that’s why he can’t stand Iret and his goody two-shoes friends.

Fae squats in front of the pillar before him, getting comfortable on his feet while resting his arms on his knees. There’s a rustling in the forest on the other side of him, but he doesn’t pay it mind. The wind’s stopped blowing, as if to listen in on his private conversation.

“I remember you an’ I makin’ a promise. You forced me to, actually. The week before we all died, you said I had to promise you somethin’. Wouldn’t tell me what it was ‘til I agreed. Then... you said...”

As he recites the words, he can hear them in her voice almost as clear as night.

“ My son, listen here. There’ll be a time when I’m gone. A time when I won’t wake up the next day, and you and little Kea will be all alone in this world. When they bury me beneath that damp soil, I want you to promise me never to hold on too tight to anything but your brother and your soul. I want you to promise me that you’ll let me go whenever you’re ready to, and you’ll finally start letting yourself live the life you deserve. Promise me, my son, that you’ll keep yourself and your brother safe no matter what you must do. ”

Tears well up in false eyes as Fae exhales. The faerie’s free hand lifts and rubs against his eyes, trying to rid him of the painful reminder of just how human he had stayed all these years. You can take the man out of Humanity, but you can’t take the Humanity out of a man. That’s what she used to say to him whenever he feared the Faeries howling at night. It means, no matter what happens, you will always still be you. Remember that, my darling dear. They can catch you, but they can’t kill you- the real you lies deeper inside than you could ever reach.

Yeah, right.

“I think you know why I came here t’day, then.” He stares at the base of the pillar, taking note of all the little vines and flowers that had woven themselves around it. “I came to finally say goodbye, ‘n’ t’keep that promise I made to you all those years ago.”

He broke every other promise he’d ever made to her, but at least now he could say he kept the most important one. Letting go was never easy, and he’s sure he’d never really let go of her or her memory, but maybe.. maybe if he tried, they both could find some kind of peace. She in her afterlife, and he in his hell.

“I’ll never forget you, and I’ll always... a-always love you, Mama. But I think it’s time we both parted ways. Parch is fine. I’m as... okay as I.” He stops to clear his throat, looking skyward to keep more tears from pouring down his tattooed cheeks, “I’ll be okay. You just rest now, okay? You did the best damn thing ya could for us boys. ... You... y-ya gave us hope. No matter... who we are. Ya always told us we’d be loved.”

The flowers crinkle quietly as if out of respect for the heavy emotions Fae laid out in front of him. He set them atop her name plaque gently, making sure they rested safely atop her grave. The stark contrast between the white and black flowers really shone among the grey and the green surrounding them.

Three black roses, one for each of them. A symbol of death and end for each relationship he held, and for his old life he could no longer live. A symbol of hope that in this death, something new would blossom. Three white tulips - again, one for each - prayed for purity and innocence to come after their death, and symbolized his own forgiveness of what had come to be. And the purple hyacinth which made up most of the bouquet... a plea. Forgive me, I am sorry, I am filled with sorrow. They were all for her, primarily, in hopes that she would grant him a mercy he did not deserve.

“Goodbye, Mama. May your sleep be Dust free and your wings bring you high.”

Just as he’s about to get up, something shifts to his left and catches his eye. On the plaque of his brother’s grave rested a single blue hyacinth, a symbol of begging forgiveness for one’s own lie. Fae reached out to pick it up before noticing something else peculiar. All around the base of his brother’s grave, a flower he’d never seen before bloomed. Fresh, natural, as if they had been planted there or had grown through the ground on their own. Only when he plucked one from the ground did he hear their name whispered on the wind.

Spring crocus. Penitence roses. Flowers bloom with forgiveness from one’s loved ones.

Standing upright and tucking the single plucked flower into his shirt, Fae adjusted his jacket and once more wiped his face free of tears and snot. It’s nasty, but weren’t all emotions as such? He took a deep breath of the fresh air around him, glancing outward towards the forest in an attempt to recover his composure. It wasn’t until he locked eyes with something stirring in the forest that he felt truly vulnerable.

Watching him with steady red eyes was none other than a forest harpy. He couldn’t see her bodice entirely well; her brown mottled feathers kept her pretty well blended among the trees and the dark shadows of the endless forest. But he could see her. Her long hair, her glowing eyes, her sharp and gaunt face almost hidden among the shadows like her bodice was.

He stepped around the graves and began making his way towards her as quick as he could without coming across as threatening. Unfortunately for him, by the time he made it around the graves, she was gone, fleeing off into the forest like a frightened doe from a hunter. Fae would run after her, but stepping outside the Eye meant he’d leave the graves for good, and he just wasn’t ready to leave yet. Whoever she was, she was gone now. How’d she even find the Eye? Non-fae weren’t supposed to be able to see into it...

He’d been caught - and there’s no telling who might catch him next if he wasn’t careful. Fae’s time has run out, which meant he needed to return back to the Mountain. Trudging back to the front of the graves, Fae wanted to get one last look at the pillars before leaving them for good. When he turned to stare at them, he covered his mouth with his hand, keeping whatever emotions he felt from overwhelming his expression. Tears welled up in his eyes once more, spilling over his hand as he stared at the beautiful sight before him.

The flower from before - the one he couldn’t recognize. The spring crocus? Whatever it was, it had begun blooming not only over his little brother’s grave, but his mother’s and his own as well. Several new bulbs just waiting to open had grown thick enough to cover and unite each of the name plaques, making it so anyone who’d come through - if they’d come through - could no longer read the names or dates written there. Forgiveness. Mercy. Grace. Protection. To top it all off, a single vine coiled around the flowers resting on his mother’s grave, holding them tight to the plaque he could no longer see.

One final embrace for his final goodbye.

[layla256]

Key to Her Heart Chapter 2/52: Children’s Games

And here we go, the second chapter! I know the Slayerfest would have probably been a better episode to do this prompt with, but I don’t really have access to the episode since I’m on a cruise ship with no internet right as I’m writing this, so I figured I’d go with the next episode in season two.

Cause I love me some season two. Wonder why?

This was hell to write. Frankly, there’s about 200 words missing from this chapter, mostly because of the 2000 word limit. I was gonna have Faith finally show up in all her Single-Slayer glory, there was an entire conversation Buffy has with Spike about Ford and their friendship, there was a lovely torture scene where Spike’s feelings for Buffy start to come through, there’s an entire sub-plot with Buffy’s Mom and her gallery.

None of which I got to touch. So I’ve decided, since I have the extra time on my hands, I’ll start writing shoot-offs of the series. Things that have nothing to do with the Prompts as I’m writing them, but will definitely flush out the over-all story.

The prompt this time was: The most dangerous game.

Again, Slayerfest would have been perfect, but I barely remember the episode. I’ll have to start re-watching when I get home.

 Buffy wasn’t sure if she wanted to be flattered by Spike’s defense of her supposedly sullied honor or still horrified that his response to her assault had been to slaughter an entire frat house in her and her friends’ names.

Being fair, they were sacrificing teenage girls to a giant snake demon, so she wasn’t exactly upset that they were dead, but a voice sounding incredibly like her mother insisted that murder was still a very wrong thing and wasn’t to be encouraged.

Either way, Buffy had some serious thinking to do, which she figured was best done at the Bronze with bestie back up.

“Well,” Xander said, “I’ve given my opinion on the guys, so . . .”

Willow and Buffy both sighed. “‘Fuck ‘em,’” they quoted. It had been his mantra all night. Sure, he’d been the first on the Let’s-Stake-Spike train right along with Giles when he’d first heard, but the second his actual intentions had been revealed, they suddenly changed their tones.

“Extenuating circumstances,” Giles had called it, while cleaning his glasses for the fifteenth time that conversation.

“Well, someone got a potty-mouth while I was gone!” a strained voice called, bringing Buffy’s attention around to the familiar figure behind her.

“FORD!” She yelled out, not seeing the grin on his face.

  Spike couldn’t believe his fucking luck! He knew that Faith was a royal bitch to everyone (Buffy had complained about it plenty of times for him to get the picture), but to have a childhood friend turn her over to a Master Vampire to save his own skin? Spike had originally had his doubts when some posh human came and offered him the slayer on a silver platter in exchange for immortality. Had he not been able to smell the sick and medicine on the kid, he would have smelled a trap instead. Kid was dying and desperate, and Spike was just the kind of bad, rude man to take advantage

He would kill Faith, Dru would be able to drink her dry, then . . .

Then they would leave. Just like he wanted three months ago. His Dark Princess all healed up, they’d paint the town red before moving onto the next. This was, literally, the sole reason he came to this ruddy town.

Not why we stay, his demon whispered. Never before had he felt so strongly the urge to physically kick the damn thing. Yes, he knew bloody well that wasn’t why he stayed, or why the idea of leaving left him feeling more bereft than before, but it was completely and utterly a non-issue.

Before he could remind himself all the reasons why it was a non-issue, a hand came across his face, scratching as it went.

Ah, Dru was in that kind of a mood today then.

“Stop all that glowing,” she demanded. “You’ll burn up my daisies!”

Spike sighed heavily, drawing on a full century of loving Dru through all these fits to keep his temper. “Dru, Princess, ‘m not glowin‘.” He calmly took both of her hands into his own, holding them firmly so she couldn’t attack him again.

“You are!” she insisted, struggling in his grip. Normally, she could have broken it by now, but that mob had really done a number on her. “You glow with her! I’ll not burn up with you! No sunshine for Daddy’s princess!”

Spike was in game face in an instant. Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, that’s all he sodding heard about. Every damn night his Dark Princess insisted on bringing up her wretched sire, asking after him, commenting on whatever he was doing, all of it. Frankly he was fucking sick of it at this point.

“A hundred,” he growled at her, shaking her in his grip. “A hundred fucking years, I’ve stood by you. When Darla left cause she couldn’t put up with your fits, when he left because of that fucking soul, I stayed and took care of you, loved you through every sodding demon you opened your legs for. Kept you safe and happy, and stayed. Never strayed a once. So whatever Miss Edith told you, get it out of your head now.”

As he panted with unnecessary breath, he saw tears well up in her eyes. Immediately, he felt like a pillock. He knew it wasn’t Dru’s fault. Between the visions and the regular bouts of insanity, the poor girl couldn’t tell up from down half the time. It had been decades since he’d lost his temper with her.

“Princess,” he whispered, moving to bring her into his arms. “Princess I-”

“Princess wants her Daddy!” she wailed, crumbling to the floor.

And, for the first time in a hundred and eight years, Spike let her and walked out of the room.

He had a Slayer to kill.

 “Let’s go people-watching,” Ford suddenly said, drawing Buffy out of her Algebra-induced state. Something she was grateful for because, frankly, she was getting sick of those trains. However, when his words registered, she gave him a sarcastic look, raising her eye brow at him in what looked like a very Spike-ish expression. “Come on,” he needled, sitting up straight on her couch. “It’ll be just like old times! You used to love playing ‘Story Time’.”

Buffy shuddered at the name. “Yeah, until we made that amazing love story.” Buffy didn’t have to finish the rest. It had been her favorite story by far, full of drama, romance, and perhaps a hidden connection to the Dutch throne (did the Dutch even have a monarchy? It wasn’t something she’d considered when she was ten) rivaling any she’d come up with before. All of which had come crashing down when she’d caught the morning news and discovered the guy was actually a serial killer and the woman his latest victim.

Story Time stopped being fun after that. These were actual lives. Sure, it was fun to joke that the old man feeding the pigeons was a retired CIA spy who had a Bond Girl retiree waiting for him at home, but for all Buffy knew he was a widower trying to make it day by day.

“I don’t know Ford,” Buffy finally said. “It’s just not a fun game anymore. Besides, it’s gonna be dark soon.”

Ford shook his head. “Look, I know this club, it’s just full of a bunch of teenagers. It’s, like, ten minutes from here. No big deal.” He smiled at her, exuding confidence and almost jittering with energy. “Come on. For me?”

Buffy sighed. “We’re back by nine though,” she caved. “I’ve totally got to actually finish this Algebra homework or Ms. Jefferson’s gonna eat my soul or something. She wasn’t very clear.”

 Buffy already wanted to leave, and they hadn’t even spoken to anyone.

A vampire club. Ford had taken her to a fucking vampire club, and she was pissed.

Sure, she knew these kinds of places existed. There were a few in LA. Hell, there was a ball held there every now and then. She’d thought it sounded glamourous when she’d first heard of it in high school. The pictures she saw in one of the goth kid’s lockers showed big ball gowns and costumes everywhere. She’d even thought about going to one once. If only for an excuse to dress up.

Then she found out that A.) Vampires and demons were real and they were far from glamorous, B.) She might be one of them, and C.) Some of the people at those things took the whole thing way too seriously.

She wanted to tell Ford that moment that she was going home. Fuck the game, fuck this club, and, a tiny bit, fuck Ford, but she couldn’t bring herself to do or say it. He was still her friend and, frankly, she wasn’t comfortable leaving him wandering Sunnydale by himself at night.

“Let’s pick,” Ford said, his tone an odd one that Buffy couldn’t quite place. She looked over and saw a smirk across his face, but it wasn’t mischievous or knowing. It was frightening. It reminded Buffy strongly of her night at the frat, and she found herself moving away from him carefully, gently reminding herself that she hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in hours, so nothing was in her system.

While Buffy was focusing on her breathing, Ford seemed to find what he was looking for. “Oh, how about them!” He pointed below them. “Those two probably aren’t going to murder each other tonight.”

Buffy wanted to scold him. The game wasn’t fun or entertaining, and what had happened to that poor girl wasn’t something he should be making fun of. However, her eyes drifted to who he was pointing to, and her throat closed.

Spike. Spike was here with Drusilla.

And apparently this Vampire Bar had a few more actual vampires than Buffy had originally thought.

“Ford,” Buffy said, “I’m leaving. Let’s go.”

Ford shook his head. “What? You don’t like my new friend?”

Buffy’s eyes widened. “Friend? Since when do you even know Spike?” Before Ford could answer, she was shaking her head. “You know what? No. Doesn’t even matter. So low on the mattering scale I can’t even see it. We need to leave. Now.”

Buffy knew how Spike was. If he was there with Drusilla, they were planning on feeding. Buffy couldn’t protect everyone.

Ford seemed to hesitate but nodded. “Alright. We’ll go out the back way, so he doesn’t see us.”

And Buffy was so thankful he hadn’t argued with her, she didn’t even think of how bad an idea that was.

 Spike was mere seconds away from ripping the little wannabe behind him apart with his teeth when one of his men signaled him. Ford had actually managed to get the slayer into the alley. Bloody hell, he certainly owed the kid.

Moving quickly, he left Drusilla behind. She hadn’t spoken to him since the incident that morning, but Spike frankly couldn’t bring himself to care.

Stepping outside with a grin, he started swaggering towards the two figures, curious why he didn’t smell Slayer. Taking a deep breath, Spike scented the medicine and sick from the boy, the beer and vomit from the alley, and finally, a familiar vanilla and steel.

Buffy.

He must have said her name aloud, because the two turned and looked at him, a smile on the boy’s lips and terror on hers. “Spike,” Buffy hedged, putting herself between him and the boy. The lying little shit. “Spike, please. He’s my old friend, just leave him alone, please.”

Suddenly, it all fell into place. The shit hadn’t lied. Not to him at least. He was just a sodding fool. A sodding fool who hadn’t tried to sell him Faith, but Buffy.

“Buffy,” he said firmly. “Go home, lock your doors, and make sure your mum’s all tucked in.” He stalked towards Ford.

“Spike please no. I don’t know what he said—”

She was cut off when Spike grabbed Ford by his throat. “He sold you to me Buffy,” Spike growled through his fangs. “Swore your blood to me in exchanged for being turned.”

Kill the demon demanded. He was inclined to agree.

“We- We had a deal!” Ford gasped, clawing at Spike’s hands futilely.

“Not anymore,” Spike declared.

 The next night, Buffy was sitting next to Ford’s grave, a stake clutched in her hands and tears in her eyes. “I’m not talking to you,” she said, not even bothering to look at Spike as he approached from behind. “You had no right to have your minions haul me off while you—” she cut herself off with a choked sob.

Spike sat next to her, gently taking the stake from her hands. “I didn’t turn him,” he assured her, “But I wasn’t letting you stay for what happened.”

Buffy wanted to be furious with him. To hit and scream until her heart stopped hurting.

Instead, she just sat next to her friend’s killer and cried on his shoulders.

[probably-not-star-lord]

Guardians of the Galaxy: Part 3 (Peter Quill x Reader)

Part 1 Part 2

A/N: I got a couple of notes on the last part of this series so now I am STOKED!! Even though it was only a few notes I am still so glad people like my writing!!

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff

-

After Peter places you gently back on the ground, he deactivates his rocket boots and takes off his mask. You peer at the orb placed in your palm and turn it over, running your fingers along each crevice and inspecting every part of it. While staring at it with great curiosity, the orb is quickly swiped from your loose grip. Your head pops up instantly. Peter plays with it, tossing it between his hands with a mischievous grin.

"What the hell, dude?" you ask playfully, going to reach for it back. He puts an arm up, blocking you from obtaining the orb.

Using his arm to gradually move you away from the orb, he speaks. "Yeah, about this glowin' ball thingy... I'm gonna need it."

You step back from Peter slightly, throwing your hands up in exasperation. "W-what do you mean you're gonna need it? You just helped me retrieve it for myself!" You start to raise your voice at him.

Now, instead of backing away, he saunters over to you, his face only inches from yours. "Well, sweet cheeks, I got it for myself, and you just so happened to be there. Then, I let you play with it for a little while until the bad dudes waltzed in and you helped me escape." He takes a deep breath and looks away. "Not that I needed the help, of course," he mumbles.

"Asshole," you state, giving him a death stare.

Peter takes another step even closer to you. Your stomach turns a bit realizing how little space there is between the two of you. "Now that we're done with those weirdo aliens over there, I'm gonna go take this orb to my buyer and collect some units. That means this where I leave you darlin'..." he whispers, his playboy smirk illuminating his face. "...so if you wanna give me a good-bye kiss..."

You furrow your eyebrows and frown at the man, pushing him away from you. "Cut the shit, Star-Douche!" you shout, making another attempt to get the orb back, failing miserably. He chuckles at you, moving the orb away from your grasp each time you reach for it. Your frustration increases, boiling up inside you until you're about to snap. This only causes Peter to have more fun.

A loud crash echoes through the planet and the two of you freeze. Turning toward the noise, you watch as your ship is being blown to bits. "No. No no no no no!" you yell in pain. You take slow steps over to the sight of the explosion. That was your first ship and your home for many years.

"Fuuuuuck," Peter gasps under his breath, his eyes glued to the ship. He looks over at you, noticing the growing distance. "Whoa!" he screams, gripping your wrist and pulling you back to him. "What do you think you're doin'? You can't go towards an explosion! You're supposed to run away from crazy shit like that!" You ignore his remarks yet remain standing right where you are. You're numb. It's impossible to look away from the bright flames engulfing your ship.

Suddenly, Korath and his men emerge from the flames and fire their guns at you and Peter. Both of you flinch with each shot and back up slowly towards Peter's ship, the Milano.

"Oh shit," he bellows. "We gotta go." He turns to leave but looks back at you, still staring at the ship and trying to avoid the shots coming at you. "Now, Y/N!" Peter shouts, instinctively picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder as he jogs toward the Milano. He forces the two of you through the doors at a quick pace, closing them harshly the second you're both inside.

Peter places you down on the ground, gently, barely checking up on you before sprinting away. You stand there, silent, still thinking about your beloved ship. That damned ship was the place you called home for almost the entirety of your young, adult life. It was the first thing you purchased upon escaping the torture of Thanos. The ship always felt safe, comfortable, and was your escape from reality when the dangers of thievery became too much to bear. Now, it's completely gone.

A frustrated Peter runs wildly around trying to get the Milano up in the air. He sits down in the pilot's seat and levitates his ship above the ground, desperately trying to avoid Korath's attack. The ship shifts left and right as he almost loses control. You grab onto the wall next to you for balance. You fly above a geyser and it slams right into the ship, launching it up into the sky and turning it off. Peter hits the front window and you struggle to hold on as you head for the ceiling. As the ship descends downward at an extremely quick pace, the two of you bump into each other. Peter pins you against the wall instinctively, remaining balance. It's hard to focus on the damage being done to the ship when his hot breath is hitting your face and his eyes have a hint of darkness in them as he holds you in place. As the Milano continues shifting, Peter grabs you and holds you flush against his body. You squirm slightly in his arms due to the movement of the ship and perhaps the idea of being held by a complete stranger over and over again in such a short period of time. He lunges forward and pulls the lever to turn the ship back on, going up once again but much slower. He puts you on the ground where you stumble into the wall. Peter takes his place in the pilot's seat and manages to get a grip on flying after a bumpy ride, at last escaping from Korath.

Once you're calmly floating in space, Peter walks over to you and leans his back up against the wall. He takes a deep breath and beams brightly. That fades fairly quickly once he sees you with your eyes still widened in shock from the image of your destroyed home. You don't know what is more surprising: the fact that your ship is gone forever or the fact that you're starting to crush on a suspicious stranger. He places his warm, comforting hand on your shoulder and leans in to press his forehead against yours. "Hey," he whispers. "I'm sorry about your ship, I really am. But it's only a ship and I promise to get you a new one once I get those units. Until then, you can stay with me on the Milano." He waits for your confirmation. You meet his eyes and nod slowly. "Okay? Does that sound good?" You nod again and your facial expression lightens at the sight of Peter being so nice. You lose yourself in the contrast of green and light brown in his eyes, forgetting all about your ship. Maybe you'd be happier just staying with him forever on the Milano, looking into his infatuating eyes for all of eternity.

"Peter?" a weak, high pitched voice calls out, startling the two of you and causing you to pull away from him. A disheveled, pink woman, most likely from Xandar, peeps her head out from the quarters beneath the ship. She looks between the pair of you, confused and worried. "What happened?"

Peter shifts awkwardly, surveying everything around the girl instead of returning her stare. "Hey....uh....uh. I-" he struggles to remember her name and a soft simper creeps up on your face.

"Bereet," the pink woman answers, clearly unamused.

"Bereet!" Peter hollers. "Look, I'm gonna be totally honest with you. I forgot you were here."

You snicker as Bereet has a look of disbelief on her face. At first, you feel a pang of jealousy. The feeling quickly subsides as you shut it down in your head. All you know about Peter is that he's a flirtatious ravager who steals orbs and fights bad guys. Of course, there are going to be several women in his life and you are disappointed in yourself for not recognizing his womanizer qualities sooner. It's probably best to avoid getting involved with such a man.

Bereet leaves the space from under the ship and goes to clean herself up a bit. You and Peter sit down at a table in the kitchen area, turning on the TV. The newscasters on the television discuss the riots breaking out amongst the Kree empire. The men you just escaped from were Kree people, following Ronan's orders. This is the same Ronan and Kree emperor you and Gamora are planning on betraying with this orb that now sits in the middle of the table in front of Peter.

"So..." Peter breaks the silence. "I enjoyed your pop culture references and song choice out there on Morag. It's nice to meet a fellow Terran."

"Likewise," you reply. "I was abducted in '88 with nothing but my trusty walkman here and this bag of stuff." You gesture to your backpack.

Peter lets out a small laugh. "That walkman is pretty cool. I love a gal with good taste in tunes. What's on your tape?"

You open up your backpack and grab four of your tapes. You also open your walkman and retrieve "Y/N's Super Sick Mix Vol. 1″ from inside. Plopping all five down on the table, in order, you look up at Peter. "I have five tapes. They're all my 'super sick' mixes that my family made for me when I was little and lived back on Terra. The first two are some of my parents' favorite songs from the '70s and the other three are songs from the '80s that we all loved."

Peter rests his head on his hand and looks at you with bright eyes. He admires your passion and he loves the way you talk about your music as you begin to list some of the best songs on every tape. Yet, what he loves most is that he has the same songs on his "Awesome Mix" that his own mother had made him. You share the same values and tastes. He isn't used to that. Quite frankly, neither are you.

Whipping out his walkman and placing it on the table, he removes the tape. "See this here?" He asks. "This is my most prized possession. It's my only tape. Similar to you, my mother made it for me back on Terra when I was just a little kid." Peter continuously turns the tape over and over again in his hands, staring down at it with gloomy eyes.

"What songs are on there?" You ask.

"Oh, you know, the coolest stuff from the '70s. Actually, a lot of the music on your tapes are on here, like, all of the classics obviously," he scoffs. But then his expression changes and he appears almost devastated. "My mother... she um," he stops, letting whatever he was about to say fade.

"Did she only make that one tape?" He nods slowly. You give him a soft smile, even though he is still looking down at his hands. "What was she like?"

"Well, she made me this tape shortly after she bought my walkman for me. She was the best." Peter doesn't want to give away his entire life story to you, but some part of him can't help himself. He trusts you after only just meeting you. He wants to tell you; he wants to tell you everything. So, he tries to do just that. "This, um, tape here... and my walkman, of course, were all I had with me when I was picked up from Terra. I was taken shortly after my mother..." he hesitated. "...passed."

You stay quiet for a minute. You think about Peter's words and your heart breaks for him. Watching him fidget with the tape, you place your hand on it gently so he stops moving. He brushes his fingers against yours and you intertwine them. He says nothing but his eyes bore into yours as he smiles weakly. "I'm so sorry Peter."

He likes that he opened up to you and the way you had chosen to comfort him. Neither of you say anything for a while until Bereet enters the room. Upon her entrance, you and Peter pull away from each other again. He stands up and goes over to the television, pretending to listen to whatever is on. Bereet takes a seat in front of a smaller screen that connects to the TV, sipping a drink she picked up from the kitchen counter. "So, Terran, what is your name?" she questions kindly.

"I'm Y/N." You don't know how else to introduce yourself other than give your name. You can't say you're a friend of Peter's after only meeting him a few hours ago and you're unable to explain why you are on his ship without revealing Gamora's plan.

"It is lovely to meet you, Y/N." All of a sudden, the phone rings. "Peter, you have a call," she retorts, reaching to press connect on the small screen in front of her.

"No, wait, don't!" Peter exclaims. But it's too late. A blue man with a fin on his head appears on the screen behind him. Peter closes his eyes and lets out a loud sigh.

"Quill?" The man calls him.

"Hey, Yondu," Peter replies, clearly annoyed.

"I'm here on Morag," Yondu says, looking around him. "Ain't no orb, ain't no you."

"Well, I was in the neighborhood, I thought I'd save you the hassle." He shrugs, his infamous smirk returning.

"Well, where are you at now, boy?" Yondu growls at Peter.

"I feel really bad about this, but I'm not gonna tell you that."

You stand up from the table as the two men continue talking, Bereet still sipping her drink as she watches the heated conversation. You stretch over to the large window at the front of the Milano, staring at the glorious space around you. Based on the area, it appears that you are heading toward Xandar.

After abruptly ending the call, Peter puts a hand on his hip and pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out yet another sigh. "Peter?" He lifts his head to you. "Are we going to Xandar?" you ask curiously.

His goofy attitude returns. "Hell yeah! That's where I'm goin’ to sell this stupid orb and get me some units."

A sly grimace creeps up your to lips, knowing exactly who is waiting for you on Xandar. "Perfect."

Part Four: Here

[nihilismdan]

street lights, glowin’.

word count: 1,817 warnings: mention of minor character death summary: Dan and Phil go to the places that mean something to Dan in Wokingham. ao3 link: [ x ] a/n: under the cut.

a/n: i grew up in a small town, a lot of conservatives and not much else. there was a guy that i knew, but it was a friend of a friend kind of thing and he was talked about a lot in my town and he passed away and i just remembered today was the anniversary and he was amazing so there’s a conversation in here that deals with that very lightly. otherwise this isn’t meant to be angsty. i just kind of wanted to write it. this is set sometime when they were writing tabinof. 

“We never really went to the places that mean a lot to me here,” Dan and Phil are sitting on Dan’s small bed in his old childhood room. It had rained for hours, but now all that was left was the wet earth and the smell. The sky was gray and people’s lights down his street were turning on. Wokingham would be a quiet town soon.

“Don’t think so. We stayed here a lot,” Phil says, looking out the window, remembering all the times that they had taken their laptops to the window to show what the weather was like on their side of England. Being in Dan’s room feels kind of weird, like he’s stepping back in time for a moment, but when he looks over at Dan he’s taller, and different in a lot of ways, but also the same.

“Would you want to go?” Dan has his hands placed on Phil’s knee, fingers tapping against it which cause Phil to squirm a little because he’s ticklish.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Phil gets up and puts pants on and then a warm jacket.

“We can take Colin,” Dan says, leaving his phone on the charger and Phil does the same.

It was nice to unplug for a while, they sort of had to – the internet was never the best out here but over the years it’s like it had gotten worse. They walk down the stairs and the floors creak beneath them, familiarity is all around Dan, it sticks to him like the sweater on his body, and it should feel comforting but it wasn’t all the time. Things were changing, slowly, and surely.

Colin is sitting by his mum’s feet. His parents are in the living room reading together and he has to admire it for a second.

“Mind if we take Colin for a walk?” Dan’s voice is small, and surprisingly timid. “Sure, love,” his mother looks up from her book with a small smile and nods towards the leash hanging on the coat hanger.

“Colin, want to go for a walk?” Dan’s voice goes a little higher and the dog wags it’s tail excitedly, quickly getting up from his mum’s feet and running towards Dan, he’s walking in a small circle and barks just a little out of excitement. Dan bends down and pats his head and hooks the leash and Phil follows Dan out the door.

It’s getting dark, but Dan enjoys this time of night. Whenever there’s too much going on in his head he goes for walks but back home, in London, and he admires the way that the lights start to turn on, and people are walking home from work or a dinner out, life doesn’t really stop but keeps moving and it’s sort of comforting to him. In places like Wokingham it’s like time stops because the people don’t really have a reason to go out but spend it at home with family.

“So where are we going?” Phil follows the superstitious “rules” that his friends had told him as a kid, never step on a crack, he walks over them, and he can’t help but kick rocks in his path, it excites Colin for a second but then he’s quickly distracted again by the smells of people’s bushes and the trash that was left behind.

“The park,” there’s a park that’s not too far from Dan’s house, it was the one that he had always gone to with his grandmum when she would come over and watch him. Dan had referenced the park many times to Phil but never actually taken him to it.

It takes them a while to get there because of the dog, but they don’t mind it because Colin is too cute to be mad at.

“So what’s the importance?” Phil looks at Dan who seems to be lost in thought before a small smile falls on his face.

“When I wanted to run away from my parents, because they had said something I didn’t agree with, I’d come here with my stuffed bear and sit on the play structure. And then my mum would always find me here and wait for me to finish my pity party.” He laughs slightly and shakes his head. “I also shared a kiss with a girl I really liked there,”

Phil smiles with Dan and looks behind him, there’s no one there, it’s compulsory to look, to see if anyone is watching before he laces his hands with Dan’s. Colin sniffs around them and it’s an almost picture perfect moment. They’re here to work on their book, ask his mum a few questions, say hello to his grandmum for her birthday, and tell his family that he’s seeing a therapist. It took a year and Dan hadn’t found the right therapist so he had put it off until he found the one. It’s a lot, and he knew that if he did it over the phone it wouldn’t feel right. Their initial reaction to it was silence before his mum had tried to go into this philosophical rant that Dan appreciated but didn’t make much sense.

Phil just said to give them time.

It’s a lot to process on top of the book, on top of the other projects they’re doing, he gets it.

“Shall we move on?” Dan turns his head to look at Phil and he shrugs.

“Sure.”

Dan let’s go of Phil’s hand and gives the leash to Phil who gleefully takes the dog, Colin is a very easy to dog to love and take on a walk. He wishes he wasn’t so deprived of dogs as a child, and he can’t wait until he can get one of his own. Colin is good enough though. They don’t say anything, there’s comfort in the silence, and the only noise being made is from the houses they pass with loud families, or the cars that hum passed them, or the nightwalkers with their own dog. Phil spends a lot of time thinking about their future. Where they’ll be in the next couple of years, where they’ll go and what they’ll see.

He thinks about the thought of them settling down eventually, he tries not to think about that too much because it scares him, but when they’re surrounded by houses of people who sort of have it together, and walking a dog that isn’t his with his boyfriend, it’s hard not to think about. He wonders if the couple that passed by them thinks that they’re a couple, and he wonders if they think this is their daily walk too. It’s kind of fun for Phil to pretend that they do this all the time, that this is their life. He never hated the life that he has now, there were things that could be improved but he liked London and he liked having friends close by, but this was just nice too and he thinks that Dan feels that way regardless of his history with this town.

Dan slows down and they come across a cemetery, there’s a small church, and one big tree in the front and a bench underneath. It’s dedicated to someone that’s passed from what Phil could make out. They can’t go in, the gates closed but the wall surrounding the cemetery is short enough that they could climb over but they won’t. From what Phil can see is that it’s a beautiful cemetery, most are.

“Do you know anyone buried here?” Phil wonders curiously.

There’s still a light on in the church.

“A couple of people. Not anyone I was close to. Our family had this big argument about where to bury my uncle and this was one of the options but it didn’t end up happening…. But uh, a couple years ago I had read about a kid from my year eleven that had come out as gay on facebook, people didn’t really like him here, not sure if it was because he was gay or because he was a prick- I didn’t know him well enough to determine, but he did some remarkable things when he was alive that I read from the obituary, he organized a club for the LGBT so he couldn’t have been that bad. He died from a drunk driver, his parents had him buried here, and I think about him a lot. I don’t really know why? I guess I’m glad that someone from Wokingham was brave enough to publicly come out given the rep that most small towns have when it comes to things that are… different.”

Phil had listened, and nodded his head and placed a hand on Dan’s shoulder. “I think it’s interesting how we both have these people in our lives that we don’t know personally but sort of… paved the way for us just by them and their… queerness, I guess.” For Phil it was a lot of things, not so much the people he had grown up with, but it was tv shows, and then when he had gone to university it was experience, and youtube, and Charlie.

Colin barks at something in the distance and Phil leans down to pat his head and looks up at Dan again and they’re both thinking that maybe it’s time to go home.

On the way back Dan starts talking about a house because of the person that lives in it, it’s normally always someone he went to school with or someone he met through his grandmum’s church, and there’s always a story behind it, something that’s impacted Dan and he won’t write about it in the book, maybe someday, but not this one. There are things he wants to talk about, but it doesn’t feel right but someday it may be. Phil can understand that.

“When we buy our own house we should get a dog like Colin,” Phil says as they make their way up to Dan’s doorstep. He doesn’t open the door but stares at Phil for a long moment and smiles and nods.

“I think so too.” He grabs Phil’s face with his hands and leans in to kiss him on the lips. Colin scratches at the door and Dan laughs against his lips and eventually pulls away to open the door. Dan’s parents are gone to bed but they’ve left the light on. Colin gets taken off his leash and goes upstairs to his parents bedroom and Dan grabs Phil by the hand and they walk up the stairs together. They won’t be going to sleep anytime soon, but he feels better about the visit, it’s not as scary anymore now that his family knows about the things in Dan’s life. He can rest easy tonight.

“What are we doing?” Phil asks.

“I don’t know yet. I just want to cuddle you in my old room.”

So they do. And it’s good.

[vgcam]

Fanfic: There’s a First Time for Everything…

Author’s notes: Fic created for @txf-prompt-box​ challenge. Prompt: An FBI charity event. Story takes place towards the end of season one. I can’t exactly categorize it. It’s very delicately smutty, but I’m a terrible smut-writer, so it’s the closest I’d get to this sort of stuff. It’s mostly broody and slightly funny. With these prompts I seem to have lost contact with my real life friends, and have ignored my work, kids, hubby and home… oy vey!

Also tagging @today-in-fic​ 

Disclaimer: Not mine. Sigh.

There’s a First Time for Everything…

By Vered Gilad Friedman

It was their first official FBI event together and for the life of him, he was unusually nervous. He’d been on the job with Scully for almost a year now but even though they’d been having plenty of off duty phone calls, they’d hardly seen each other off work. Not that he hadn’t thought about it; it was just that she was so closed-up when it came to her private life and somehow in a manner that was very uncharacteristic to him, he felt extremely cautious when it came to handling her.

Yes, they’d both been to one another’s apartments but it was always work-related and it was always shop talk they dealt with. He’d always wanted to go beyond but whenever he’d try to dig in a little further through that unseen façade of hers, she would button up and he’d not pushed further.

Why? Because… it was even hard for him to admit this to himself, but the bottom line was, he cared for her and it was more than just this partnership that had been forced upon them. No, it was far more than that.

She intrigued him from the moment he read about her, but when he actually got to meet her, he became fascinated. Yes, he’d tried all those boyish tricks of his on her, and he got her annoyed at times, but he loved those moments when she set her blazing blue eyes upon him, and glared as if she were willing to bash him with a mallet of sorts. He’d get her pissed on purpose, just so he could see that expression on her face. He liked that she took him seriously to the verge that his words could get her to react so strongly. Later on, as they got to know each other better, she had figured out his dry sense of humor and was able to respond in line with it. This just made him feel even more excited being with her. And he got to be with her every day and it was pure elation. Even when they argued. Maybe even especially when they argued.

And they grew closer. He knew that. Nobody had to force them to work together anymore. She could have left and he could have asked that she be removed but none of that happened. Neither of them wanted that to happen. And it was more than just work. He knew it, even though neither of them said any of that to each other, even though he’d still not invited her over to his place just to have a plain cup of coffee.

And here they were, about to go on a… date? Could a formal FBI charity event even be considered a date?

He got out of his car and walked the well-known path to her house as if it were the very first time he’d ever seen it. His heart was pounding so strongly. Why couldn’t he control himself? This was Scully! He saw her just a few hours ago at the office. Why was he making such a big deal out of this?

Last year he went to this event with one of the lab techs he’d been dating. Well, more like screwing, he had to admit. A tall woman, with long blond hair. Not a natural blond. Screwing a woman tended to unveil such hidden details about her. Not that he’d cared. She was a great fuck and a perfect accessory just for such formal occasions. He’d show up, enjoy a good dinner and then finish it up with a satisfying fuck. He’d not delve about it even one second after coming. He was no stranger to dating and screwing and having a good time with pretty women, yet now, when it came to dating his partner, he felt as if he were about to break some sacred vow.

Besides, was this even considered a date? True, he was the one who came up to her and suggested they’d go to the charity event together, but he wasn’t quite sure if she understood that this was more than just two work partners going to some work function. She didn’t even make a fuss when he offered to pick her up. After all, he’d come by and picked her up several times when they went on assignments. He was usually in charge of getting their rentals, so she never argued, and they both took turns driving, so she didn’t go all feminist on him, so maybe all she read into this was just two partners on yet another assignment.

He realized he would have been a lot more self-assured had he known that his companion for the night was going to end up in bed with him a few hours later, but with Scully he wanted much more than just casual sex. Not that he didn’t think about sex when he was with her but this time sex wasn't his main goal. He wanted it to be the culmination to a far more meaningful interaction. He wanted foreplay, but not only of the sexual kind. He wanted them to just snuggle together and talk over a glass of wine, or a movie, or both. He wanted her to let him in. He wanted to know more about her and he longed to share more about himself, because he knew she'd listen and not in a patronizing fashion like his past relationships; those few relationships where it was more than just the sex. Back then when he was a mere toy boy for strong dominant women. It was a time in his life when he had needed that sort of trait in a woman. He was young and inexperienced and they were there to teach him something about the world and he didn’t mind being controlled by them because in a way he felt so out of control about his own life that he wished somebody would just take over. Both Phoebe and Diana had no problem filling that position.

But that Fox Mulder was now long gone. He remembered how vulnerable he felt when Diana got up and left him. He was like this hurt puppy, left to lick its wounds, but slowly he grew stronger without her. A thick layer of scar tissue formed on top of those wounds and he stopped feeling when he went out with women. He made sure they weren’t as smart as he was and he focused on their bodies and zoned out when they spoke. He had enough charm to lure them in so he could satisfy his needs and none of them realized he was just playing them.

And then Scully came and something snapped. She was beautiful and smart, yet vulnerable and soft, and she cared for him and admired him, but she also didn’t let him have his way and she had her own set of values and beliefs. She was never a bitch towards him, she never abused him and he realized that for the first time he had found his equal.

But for the life of him, he didn’t know how to proceed in this new uncharted territory where he wasn’t in control, nor was he controlled. He was at a loss.

He was finally at her door-step. If it weren’t for time constraints, he would have waited out there forever, but the new Assistant Director, Walter Skinner, was mentally breathing down his neck. The A.D. bothered to stress the point that tardiness could possibly lead to re-assignment. Mulder still didn’t know him all too well and he didn’t want to risk it; especially not when it came to Scully. So now being almost out of time, he heaved a deep breath and pressed her doorbell.

He could hear her calling out from behind the door. “Just a second.” And then indeed, a second later, the door was unlocked and opened.

Despite promising himself he’d behave normally, he was so taken aback by her looks, he wasn’t able to speak. He just stared at her, gawking like a total dork, feeling somewhat out of breath in lieu of the totally out of character attire she was wearing.

Yes, he knew she’d be wearing some sort of evening gown, but never in his life did he imagine this look. Her petite slim body was perfectly encased in a black strapless dress that enhanced every minute detail of her every curve, not to mention her perfect snow-tainted breasts.

It’s not that he didn’t think her beautiful in her plain FBI dress code 'uniform', but most days he forced himself not to think what lay beneath, but at this very moment not much was left to his imagination.

"Mulder?" Scully, stared at him confused.

Still speechless, he kept on gaping at her figure. When he realized his eyes had unintentionally become affixed on the amazing crack between her bosoms, he hurried to transfer his gaze to a different section of her body.

He set his attention on her hair, which had been beautifully pulled up into some form of elaborate construction, which he had no idea was at all possible. He always marveled at her perfect auburn hair, but he'd gotten so accustomed to her helmet hairdo, he didn't even think of the possibility of her wearing it differently. The usual second option was a basic ponytail which she reserved for trips to the wilderness and autopsies. There was only one single occasion when she had it up in a bun. It was during their case with the liver eating creature, Tooms. Suddenly she wore it up a-la Melanie Griffith in working girl. That do made her appear very professional and somewhat uptight and he knew she only wore it like that to impress her snarky former classmate, Tom Colton. She tried to appear serious because she thought nobody would take her seriously now that she worked for the X-Files with Spooky Mulder.

She never wore her hair like that ever again. It was then that she really decided where she wanted to be and with whom her loyalties lay. The return of the helmet do was a symbol of sorts. She removed the shackles that were imposed upon her by her previous training and she didn't care anymore what people thought. Well, at least not like she did before, he added as an afterthought.

And this amazing do she was sporting at that very moment was nothing like that puffy, professional bun of hers. No. This do was a testament to seduction. Part of her hair was pulled up while precisely calculated strands of auburn fell loosely against her perfect glowing neck. Mulder had no doubt Scully had bothered to pull the precise number of strands out of the pulled-up arrangement of hair but he wondered if he was the prime target of her amazing look or was she aiming at the general male population.

"Mulder!"

He blinked, somewhat startled by Scully's peeved tone. He had to say something. He had to, but he was so stunned, he just kept on eyeballing her, unable to hide his astonishment.

"Mulder. It's just a dress. Snap out of it. Seriously!" she blazed.

"I… I'm… you… I'm sorry, Scully. It's just that… I've never seen you in this way before." He managed but he quickly regretted his words as she pursed her lips and glowered at him.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" She shot at him.

Jeez! The woman didn't really know how to take a compliment. "Hmm, well… it's just—"

"Never mind, Mulder," she uttered impatiently. "We're going to be late if we don't get a move on."

And she glided down the front steps slightly brushing him against his shoulder as she went towards their rental. Her superficial touch was enough to exert an involuntary gasp out of him.

Dammit, he had turned into a puddle of boyish adolescence. He expected to sprout zits on his cheeks next as final proof of his total inability to function like a mature, professional adult.

His mind was racing back and forth between 'Jump right in and fuck the hell out of her' and 'Whoa boy, this is Scully you’re talkin’ about. Settle down cowboy'. He was afraid he'd lose control and that that would ruin any chance he'd ever have with her. He knew he wanted it to be totally different with her, but it was as if that dress had managed to erase Agent Dana Scully, colleague, partner, best friend, companion and so forth and instead it brought about only Dana Scully, sex bomb.

He was ashamed of how out of control his physical reaction was, when he knew that what he truly wanted was to treat her with respect and win her affection and love like a true gentleman.

"Mulder! Are you coming?"

Scully stood beside their car, her stance oozing irritability, prompting him into a wobbly dash towards her. He'd lost all his basketball training finesse all of a sudden, barely managing to avoid stumbling right into her as he broke his step at the very last second. He was hoping to get the door for her, but the moment he unlocked the car alarm, Scully hastily opened her own door and slid into her seat.

For a moment he stood there like a child lost amidst a bustling crowd, then he scooted around the car and took his place beside her at the driver's seat.

"If I would have known you'd have reacted this badly to me wearing this dress, I might've worn my bathrobe instead," Scully teased him as they drove through the evening traffic.

Still unable to trust himself, Mulder opted to keep from side-glancing. "Maybe you should have eased me into this," he suggested, surprised that he was actually not only making sensible conversation, but that he was actually able to joke about his awkwardness.

"I'll uncover only one shoulder next time," she laughed.

And just like that the tension that was threatening to implode his belly a mere second earlier suddenly disintegrated into nothing. Dress or no dress, they were their usual selves again, banter and all. He smiled, then slid a quick sideways glance, took in her beauty but now she was his companion again, just that she was even more beautiful than usual.

"You can keep both shoulders out in the open," he told her. “I think my moment of shock is over."

"Pity," she feigned disappointment. "I was kind of getting used to this unknown side of your personality."

"Well, you were privy to a rare event akin to an X-File," he chortled.

"It's definitely worth cataloguing under the bizarre category," she agreed.

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

Grand Hyatt Hotel, Washington D.C. 21:04 PM

Scully decided to let Mulder help her out of the car this time. Her dress was making it somewhat harder for her to lift herself out of her seat without having to perform some unconventional acrobatics.

Mulder was over his initial shock re her attire and was mostly back to his usual self. Mostly, because she couldn't help noticing how his glance kept straying towards the central section of her chest. Well, when she chose this particular dress she had precisely that in mind.

There were moments during their assignments when she glimpsed something more about Mulder's reaction towards her, but it always seemed like a flicker that he quickly tucked away. She knew he saw her more than just his partner. They were definitely close but that stemmed from the type of job they did day in and day out. He did try to stir their conversations to more personal direction on many occasions, but she kept reverting back to the professional path, despite his constant attempts.

He'd share a sports’ jokes with her and search her face for a reaction. He'd tell her about his family from time to time and he was a major support after her father had died.

But she was having a hard time opening up to him. She was a woman, working in a male territory and to prove herself worthy, she had to show she was strong and unflinching and she couldn't let him in or she'd appear vulnerable, so she kept him out, but he never stopped trying.

So today she chose to leave that comfort zone of hers. She could have worn a far more conservative evening gown. Certainly had her mom and dad seen her like this, she would have had plenty of explaining to do, but her daddy was gone and she wasn't that innocent girl anymore. She wanted to receive more than just a flicker from Mulder this time. She didn't know where this would lead them and how far she was willing to go, but she was willing to move forward and she felt this was the best way to send this message.

The only thing she hadn't accounted for was that Mulder would lose it altogether. He had such a reputation, she was sure he'd take her appearance in stride. Instead, he went all school-boyish on her and at some point she was considering slapping his face so he'd snap out it.

She was glad when he'd eventually recovered, at least to a certain degree.

The door beside her opened and Mulder peered at her through it, making her almost chuckle as he bent all the way down and then snuck another peep at her partially exposed breasts. She offered him her hand and he grabbed it and assisted her onto the sidewalk.

As he gave the car keys to the valet service, she snuck her own peep at his amazingly built body and marveled at the view before her. Yes, he was dressed in a suit and tie most days, but his usual choice of jackets and especially ties were not the greatest. His pants were usually a lot less snug around his buttocks, not to mention his frontal parts, and the loose shirts he usually wore made him look far less masculine than he actually was. And she knew he sported a great set of abs on him, having handled his medical misfits a little too often ever since they'd become partners.

But today it was a black tie event and he'd chosen a much tighter suit and a bow tie instead and not that he wasn't handsome enough as it was, it was just that this particular garb he had on, brought everything into focus, so to speak, and she enjoyed zooming in.

"Scully? You coming?"

She shook her head. "Yes…" she answered, absent-mindedly.

She felt his palm sliding into hers and to her surprise, she shivered. Up until now, most of their physical contact was of a friendly kind; a tiny shove on the small of her back as he ushered her about or a slight touch on her shoulder. It never went beyond that. She was amused at how holding hands like silly schoolkids could make her all giddy and tingly inside.

They climbed the stairs slowly as her narrow dress was preventing her from taking large strides. She’d been watching her footsteps, making sure she wouldn't take any unceremonious dives, so she was completely startled when she heard a familiar army-style voice speak all of a sudden.

"You're late."

Scully gazed up and saw the recognizable shiny cap of the Assistant Director towering above them.

"Sorry sir," Mulder apologized as if he were this tardy student standing before the school principal, "We had shit traffic."

"Save your sorry-ass excuses for somebody else, Mulder," Skinner growled. "Everybody else got here half an hour ago. You're the last to arrive."

Fuck. She was never late for anything before she met Mulder. In fact, her nickname was goody-two-shoes-Scully. She was always the first to arrive and customarily on the decoration committee which meant she was usually preparing for an event hours before. Now she'd fallen in with the wrong crowd, aka, Mulder, and look at her, she'd become little miss tardy and possibly a slut all in one go. Her father would probably be rolling in his grave at that very moment.

"Sorry sir," Mulder apologized, sounding like a very unrepentant schoolboy.

"We'll deal with this tomorrow. Now step on it." Skinner ordered, turned around and basically marched into the grand Hyatt as if expecting Mulder and Scully to fall in line right behind him.

"Somebody's going to get detention tomorrow," Mulder whispered under his breath.

Scully was too uptight at that very moment to find Mulder's antics funny and she sent him a peeved glare to which he responded with a shrug.

Unfortunately, there was no way she could hurry her step while ensconced within the restrictive evening gown, so she proceeded as best she could while Mulder kept to her side. By the time they reached the elevator, Skinner was already long gone.

"Relax, Scully. We’re already late. It's not like we can do much about it."

She wasn't able to see these things the way he did. There was no point in him trying to calm her down. She was still unaccustomed to being scolded, even after all these months with Mulder. She wondered if this would ever change.

The sign by the elevator listed the FBI event two floors down and if she were wearing one of her power suits and comfortable shoes, she would have made a dash for the nearest stairwell, but she'd had enough of stairs with this dress for one day, so the both of them waited patiently till the elevator arrived.

Mulder got in and Scully followed suit. She was barely inside when the elevator doors slid shut. To her utter horror, the trail of her beautiful evening gown got caught between the doors. She felt a strong pull on her body as the elevator began its downward journey.

It all happened very quickly after that. She let out a cry of shock just as Mulder realized what had just happened. He didn't think twice. He grabbed hold of her body and made sure she remained grounded to the floor. The beautiful garment's seams exploded under the pressure and gave way. It was better the garment than her limbs, she managed a quick thought.

Mulder held her firmly to the ground as the bottom half of her dress tore off, they both breathed fast as adrenaline washed through their blood stream. She could feel his warm breath against her nape, and to her surprise she also felt a firm presence pressing against her lower parts. It was the most absurd of moments; sheer horror, pure danger, uncontrolled excitement and sexual delight all mixed into one crazy juncture. It was like the epitome of their relationship, she came to realize.

She let out a silly hysterical chuckle.

"It's great that you're enjoying this, Scully," Mulder murmured against her cheek.

She was about to respond in kind, but suddenly she heard the elevator doors whooshing behind her accompanied by a chilly breeze brushing against her now exposed thighs and buttocks.

Then came a deafening sound created by a major group of people gasping all at once.

She knew she shouldn't look behind her, but despite herself she did. The minute her head turned around, she regretted it.

The entire membership of the Federal Bureau of Investigation all stood outside, their jaws ajar, and their eyes the size of continents, and like a cherry on top of a cake, there stood Assistant Director Skinner fronting the entire crowd. But unlike the rest of the gathered law enforcement personal present, Skinner bore the most outraged scowl she'd ever seen.

She was still pressed hard against Mulder's body, her exposed thong-clad butt there for everyone to see, and she was unable to move a muscle. But Mulder stirred slowly, gently pushing her behind him, but never letting go of her. Finally he stared squarely at Assistant Director Skinner and said, sheepishly, "Errr… what's up doc?"

THE END

@today-in-fic @txf-prompt-box @fictober

[braincoins]

Allura and Lance, comparing the Broganes over a spa day.

           Lance stretched and leaned back. “Man,this is so much nicer than the pool.”

           It turned out the Castle had a “RejuvenationSuite,” or, as Lance insisted on calling it, a “Space Spa.” Allura decided itwasn’t worth correcting him, especially not now.

           She and Lance were each ensconced ina single-person soaking tub filled with medicinal and rejuvenating herbs andsalts. She’d chosen the “Relaxation” packet; Lance had gone for “Revitalizing”.Soft scents wafted through the room, changing from juniberry to starpetal toarcleaf, drifting from one to the other like a lazy hummingbee. There was aquiet background music, just loud enough to hear if you wanted to, but quietenough to ignore if that was your desire. The lights dimmed and brightened atslow, random intervals, never getting too bright or too hot. It was likeshifting sunlight.

           Lance had his eyes closed as hesighed happily. “Can I just live here? Like, can this be my room?”

           She laughed a little and closed herown eyes. “No. The Rejuvenation Suite is for everyone’s use. And if you bringKeith down here, you two have to behave.These tubs are single occupancy.”

           He snorted. “We’ll behave when youand Shiro behave.”

           She sat upright so quickly her tubsloshed a little. Fortunately, there was no spillage. “We behave!” sheinsisted.

           Lance cracked one eye to look at herdoubtfully. “You two were behaving last week when we caught you in the kitchen?THAT was behaving?”

           Allura blushed and resettled herselfin the tub. “Yes, actually, that wasbehaving.” She knew she probably shouldn’t, but the impulse hit her and shecouldn’t help herself. “You should see what he’s like when we’re in the BlackLion together.”

           Lance snickered and closed his eyes.“I do not need to see that. Well…actually, I might not mind, but Keith would hit the ceiling.”

           “Really? He doesn’t seem sex-averseat all.”

           “Oh, trust me, Princess, he verymuch IS NOT.” She rolled her head over to find him grinning. “But he and Shirohave that whole ‘bro’ thing going on. He gets squidgy about it.”

           “‘Squidgy’?”

           “Yeah, y’know: squidgy.”

           “I know a dozen different languages,and none of them have such a word.”

           “It’s kind of like ‘ew’ but withmore ‘ugh’ to it.”

           Her brow furrowed. “Anyway, he doesn’tlike hearing about Shiro’s sex life? Is that the point you’re trying to make?”

           “Yeah, pretty much. I don’t mind though.”

           She laughed. “You already saw someof it! And, for the record, I was just trying to make tea. The rest of that wasall his idea.” She cleared her throat. “Sometimes it feels like you and Keitharen’t even dating at all. If you hadn’t announced it over the Castle’s commsystems, I might not even believe it.”

           “Eh, Keith isn’t a big PDA person.”

           “Peedee… ?”

           “Eyyyyyyyyyy!” he finished with agrin. “Yeah, Public Displays of Affection. It kind of drove me nuts at first,but then I realized that it’s,” his voice softened from smugness into quietsatisfaction, “well, it’s kind of like I get to keep all of that to myself.Just for me.”

           “Aww, that’s kind of sweet.”

           “It is, isn’t it? It’s actuallyamazing how sweet Keith can be sometimes. Like, even when I think he’s notlistening to me, and I’m just babbling and being annoying, he’ll say or do somethingdays later that proves he really heardme. Like when I was running out of my moisturizer, and he…”

           “Oh, is that why he asked me aboutthat? I thought maybe you were just rubbing off on him.”

           “Every chance I get!” Lancedeclared.

           She rolled her eyes, but stayed onsubject. “He got that for you?”

           “Yeah, he did. And it works great,by the way!”

           “You are glowing,” she confirmed, “but I just assumed that was becauseof Keith himself and not the new skincare product.”

           Lance blushed a little but rolledhis head over, opened both eyes, and grinned. “I ain’t the only one glowin’around here, sister.”

           “I am not your sister nor am Iglowing.”

           “GLOOOWWWINNNNG,” he insisted in asing-song voice. “Shiro smiles and you light up like a Christmas tree.”

           “I don’t know what that is, but I’mcertain you’re overstating it.” She was trying to ignore the fact that her facewas heating up.

           “He’s a little more PDA than Keith is,anyway. The little cheek kisses and things like that. You two are likesomething out of a storybook.”

           “Oh, stop that, we are not.”

           “You totally are! The beautifulprincess and her dashing knight! Er, paladin, in this case. It’s perfect.”

           “Well, you and Keith are thebrothers-in-arms who always have each other’s backs, fighting side-by-sideagainst evil. So I’m fairly certain you’re a storybook refugee yourself.”

           Lance grinned widely and leaned backagainst the tub. “Face it, Allura: You and I are pretty much the two luckiestpeople in the universe.”

           She smirked a little. “No, we’renot. Shiro and Keith are.”

           “I stand corrected.”

[the-doctors-strays-blog]

Regeneration

with travelxhopefully, from ryanxsinclair - dropped

“Right, so you used to be a bloke. That I get. What I don’t get is why you were glowin’. It was right freaky.“

Oh, she had been glowing? Makes sense, she supposes. It tended to linger for several hours, keeping on changing in the ‘background’ so to speak.

❝ Residual regeneration energy. See, when we’re mortally wounded or jus’ get too old, we regenerate. Create a whole new body and keep on keepin’ on. It releases a massive amount of hormones called lindos, burning every cell in me body and rewritting my DNA, my brain and my personality. S’why I was a bit confused when we first met. My brain was still cookin’, rewrittin’ itself and changin’. ❞

Lots of information. Slow down a bit.

❝ It ain’t the first time I’ve done it either. First time bein’ a woman, though. ❞

Oh my stars! M’travelin’ through the universe with a video game character, Ryan thought. It was like when you ran your character off a cliff, but the game didn’t save right and you ended up at the bottom, with one less life than before. Nice, easy short cut. Or like reincarnation.

As always, the Doctor was speaking like she was on fast forward, but he caught most of it, even the nonsense words like ‘lindos’. After what he’d seen of the Doctor before, he decided to just take her word on it. She died an old Scottish bloke and turned into a pretty blonde. Okay. She was alien, after all, so why not? “Wait, your whole species does it? Doesn’t that get confusin’, everyone changin’ their face? And do you have a choice, or is it a sort of random avatar sort of thing? And the glowin’ light, if it was healin’ you, then why’d it float away like that?”

❝ Yep! At first, yeah, but we’ve got a way of just… knowin’ who’s who. Can’t really explain it. ❞

For a second, she paused, trying to come up with a good way of putting it. Oh! She’s thought of what to liken it to.

❝ S’like when y’get your hair cut. Or change your clothes. Y’look a bit different but it’s still you. It’s a gamble really. Though I ‘ave seen a few choose what they wanna look like. I never really bothered t’ try. ❞

She gave a shrug at that. Why bother? Let it happen and what she got, was what she’d stick with. It didn’t matter to her what she looked like, so long as she kept on being the Doctor and helping those who needed it. That was all that mattered.

❝ Dispersing, I guess. Eventually it just fades. Very handy though. Helped me survive crashin’ through the train roof. Never wanna do that again. Y’think that crane was high? Should’ve seen how far I fell. Still, can’t blame her. I’d toss me out too if I got wrecked. ❞

“Getting a haircut doesn’t normally involve dyin’. That would be a really, really bad haircut.” Ryan leaned against one of the golden, crystalline columns that lined the TARDIS’ console, trying and failing to picture the Doctor as anyone else than she was now. He believed her, entirely, he accepted it, but it was hard to imagine. She was the Doctor. “Sort of a big change, whole new body.”

An entire world where people just grew a new body when they died, lived their lives over again. That had to be incredible - your loved ones never actually being gone, just changing a bit, and knowing that if you messed up being young you could try again eventually.

“Doctor,” he began, with a weighty pause after, for it felt a bit strange asking - maybe she didn’t have a world, maybe her whole race just went bouncing about in space in blue boxes, “maybe before you take us home, could we stop off on your world? Planet of the Face-Changin’ Time Ladies, that has t’be cool.“

❝ True. ❞

Was her only response to the hair cut comment. It sure would be a bad hair cut. Going in to get it done and bam! You’re dead. Awful business. Anyway. Moving on. She simply nodded as Ryan spoke again, silently agreeing. A very big change indeed, over and over again. It never got any less painful but it was better than alternative.

❝ Yeah? ❞

She answered, resting back on the console as she waited. Something in his pause had her a little concerned. Was he going to ask a heavy question? It sure felt like it. Annnnd he did.

Any traces of happiness drained from her face at the question he asked; Gallifrey. He wanted to visit Gallifrey. Of course. She should’ve seen that one coming. Talk highly of your species and they’ll wanna visit your home for tea and biscuits. Her tongue darted out, wetting dry lips and lowered her head, turning her attention to her boots.

❝ ‘fraid not. I mean, it is cool. It used to be cool. But… ❞

She shook her head; she couldn’t, for multiple reasons.

❝ I can’t go back. I won’t go back. Sorry. ❞

Ryan looked at her in concern - he hadn’t imagined that she’d react like that, drawing into herself. He’d always gotten the impression that she didn’t tend to head home very often, but he’d just figured she was like the people who’d left Sheffield after school and now only ever came home for Christmas, and sometimes not even then.

“M’sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just figured, we go to all these places, and your world…” This ship… Her ability to cheat death and survive a fall through a train… All the beautiful insanity of this life, on the TARDIS… How could her world not be cool? “It was just an idea, s’fine,”he shrugged, trying to play it off as nothing, and not missing the way she looked down at her boot, which wasn’t nothing, “Are you, you know, fine?”

Oh. She didn’t mean to make Ryan feel bad. It just brought up bad memories she’d rather not think about but… maybe she could give the vaguest of explanations so that the other could understand why she didn’t want to return.

Her head lifted, forcing a smile back on her face.

❝ S’okay, you didn’t upset me. I just… ❞

Another pause, struggling to find the right words to say. Funny, that. The Doctor struggling with words when she’s always so bubbly and talkative. But talking about Gallifrey is something she needs careful words with.

❝ It was beautiful. The second sun would rise in the east and it’d make the forest glow like it was on fire. And one of the moons shone so bright you’d see it up there with the sun. At night, the sky would turn a warm orange, and you’d see all the stars the universe had to offer. All the stars we were only allowed to watch. Oh, but the golden fields, and the slopes of red grass I used to run through when I was a kid. ❞

A pained but adoring smile on her lips. It was beautiful, and they were good memories. But it also hurt. She spoke lovingly of it, even if there was sadness in her eyes. She’d love to return, but there was a reason she left in the first place.

❝ I’d love to take you back there but they won’t welcome me back with open arms. Why would they? I stole a TARDIS and ran away. Broke their rules. But who needs ‘em, am I right? I’ve got you guys ‘n’ the whole universe out there to explore. ❞

That wasn’t all but it was all she was willing to say right now. A grin was back on her face, wiping away any sadness she had displayed. Focus on the good things. Her fam. The TARDIS. And their adventures. It was all she needed.

“You stole the TARDIS?“ Ryan blurted, almost more surprised that he wasn’t surprised than he was surprised about that particular revelation. Why did that fit so well? He’d never been quite able to imagine the Doctor picking the TARDIS out of a line of blue boxes like a car lot, and her confusion over the controls had dissuaded a theory that she’d built the ship herself. But stole it? It suited, somehow, her way of approaching life, breaking the rules and putting them back together for the better. “So what,“ he joked, “you afraid you’ll go back and get her repoed? Sounds really amazin’ though, your world. You know, sometimes I think Graham still half-believes you’re joshin’ on the whole alien thing.“

He strolled around the console. Flying around the universe in a stolen time machine with a blonde alien who sounded like she was from Yorkshire. He’d never get used to this, he never wanted to get used to this. “What d’you mean though, only allowed to watch? Why’d they go and build a bunch of time machines if they weren’t goin’ to use them? S’like those people who buy action figures only to stick the boxes on a shelf.” He’d once made his mate Mike livid when he was about ten and he’d pulled one of his ‘collector items’ off a shelf to play with it. Mike had only ever come round his place after that - Ryan was half sure Mike, or Mike’s dad, had secretly banned him from their house.

There was a simple ‘yep’ and a nod in reply to his question, a smile on her face that showed that she didn’t regret it for a second. The TARDIS was her ship, her home, and she wouldn’t trade it for anything. It gave her a chance to explore everything she had dreamt of visiting, to take part in traditions and meet new species. Who wouldn’t love a ship that can give you everything you’ve ever wanted?

❝ After everythin’ we’ve seen, it’s hard to deny that I am. ❞

She shrugged a shoulder. It’ll sink in eventually. Sometimes it takes a while, and sometimes they get into it immediately. She’s pretty sure that Graham is on board with it all, even if he still questions her choices of running into danger sometimes. Less so now, thankfully.

❝ ‘Cos of the damage the Time Lords did. They changed events, took part in wars, messed with things they shouldn’t have ‘n’ it caused the Eternal War. Minyans almost went extinct after we gave ‘em technology that couldn’t use responsibly and the Time Lord’s meddlin’ on Klist accidentally reversed evolution for the inhabitants there. Drove ‘em all mad.  After that… Rassilon issued the non-interference policy. Only allowed to observe ‘n’ not get involved. ❞

A rule which the Doctor breaks frequently despite saying they weren’t going to interfere. Sometimes she just can’t sit back and do nothing when there is injustice happening to the people in front of her. Especially when it takes lives. The only times when she can’t do that is when it’s an event that is a fixed point in time. An event that she can’t interfere in no matter how much she wants to.

❝ You can guess how much they must’ve loved me, eh? They forced me t’regenerate and exiled me to Earth when I broke the policy. So, y’know. Try t’avoid ‘em. ❞

Non-interference. That was so not the Doctor, no matter how much she might insist that they not interfere on different planets or different times they nearly always ended up fixing something, changing someone’s life, saving someone. He could see why she didn’t get on with her people and beyond that… they’d executed her. And for what? Saving people. Although it wasn’t the same as it was on Earth, being executed when she could just take on a new body, all of his desire to see her world flickered to nothing in a moment.

“That’s horrible,“ he said. “That wasn’t when you fell through the train though, yeah? ‘Cos you said the TARDIS was explodin’. How long ago was that then, the whole exile thing?“ She’d gone through a few regenerations, he knew; there was the grey haired Scotsman, and a few she’d mentioned before that one in her various stories.

“I mean it could be worse though, Earth. All the worlds in the universe and you seem t’come here a lot.“ Other than mistaking a hotel tycoon for Ed Sheeran, she almost got more pop culture references that he did. And they ended up on Earth nearly every other trip - although maybe that was for their sake. He almost wondered if she’d spent more time on Earth than on her own world - maybe Graham was right, maybe she wasn’t as alien as she liked to claim.