#i’m VERY rusty that’ll be funny | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kashimos-hajime · 5 years ago

Text

scorched | s.r. + b.b.

summary: “You utterly destroyed me, you know that? I loved you more than I needed to breathe and you just walked away. I lost everything and you walked away.”

WARNINGS: swearing, angst, violence, a post-endgame rant wrapped up as a fic pairing: steve x fem!reader, bucky x fem!reader word count: 7.3k

a/n: inspired by praying by kesha. written for @coffee-with-bucky and her 2k challenge! congrats lyn :) my prompt was “i failed you. i failed everyone.”and i’d be lying if i said i wasn’t inspired by @heli0s-writes and her series “as it was”. check her out! she’s one of my favourite writers on this site!

“She’s not at the compound,” Sam says, not at all surprised to see him and almost resentful, defensive. His phone is still in hand, screen alit from the text Steve sent him a few minutes ago. Everything he left behind is still here by the lake.

Almost everything.

It’s a ghost town.

“But she doesn’t want to see you anyway.”

“Sam—”

“Five hours for you was five, very long years for us,” he continues, but his tone softens when he catches sight of Steve’s face. Absolutely crushed, eyebrows weighed down, shoulders hunched forward, defeated. “She’s different, now. She’s not the woman you left.”

The mere mention of you makes Steve’s heart, already choked with dread, crack.

“And you shouldn’t go, man. It wouldn’t be good for her after all this time.”

Before, maybe Sam would’ve thought of Steve first, but there’s a distance, a yawning gap standing between them now. Sam was here for the bitter consequences of his departure—Steve wasn’t, and he knows they must’ve been shattering, terrifying, because by the way Sam is so cold about it, he doesn’t want to remember it.

“I made a mistake, Sam. I can’t let her go on thinking I don’t regret what I did.” He looks out at the lake where he passed the shield and mantle and responsibilities on to the man before him before he left, and the sun hits the lake so clearly that his breath nearly catches. You loved swimming, propelling circles around him in the blue-green pool at the compound, splashing it into his eyes. Laughing and laughing and laughing because you’re so limber on land but here you’re definitely a fish out of water.

Funny, funny, funny.

“She won’t care.”

“She has to.”

“Look, man. I’m trying to save you some pain.” Sam puts a hand out, hovering before his chest as if he stopped himself, as if he doesn’t even want to touch Steve, and the blond swallows the painful little knot in his throat. “It’s too late, and I know you want to think better late than never, but she’s changed. Things have changed.”

“That won’t stop me from trying,” Steve murmurs, walking around Sam to where a car is parked. His car. The damned car he drove to Tony’s funeral. He’s sure the keys are still in the cupholder beside your old coffee cup. He wonders who drove you home.

Sam? Bucky?

Who held a body with a heart that was tearing apart while he was chasing some fruitless daydream?

“Dude, the woman you knew is gone,” Sam calls, but Steve doesn’t listen. “You need to leave.”

“No, Sam. We made a promise to wait for each other.”

Okay, clause one: we wait for each other no matter what. Clause two: no matter what happens, we promise to work everything out. Clause three: this love is forever. Sign here.

I can’t believe you’re making me sign a fake contract for something we know won’t change, doll.

It’s a real contract because I wrote it, and it’s just for fun, anyway. I would never love anyone else besides you.

“That doesn’t matter. She’s fucking Barnes anyway.”

That stops him in his tracks. Blood freezing over in his body, he turns to look at Sam in his leather jacket and washed jeans, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His eyes are impassive, severe, and dark with blunt honesty.

“Look, they’re happy. So can you just… leave? Go back to the forties. Settle down anywhere but here, because she is happy and so is he. Do you know how long it took for them to even think about trying to move past you?”

“Wait—” The word comes out ripped, hoarse, and he feels the blood drain from his legs as he takes a step back—

“You should just go.”

For a moment, Steve’s eyes, wide and impossibly guilty, shine with tears. At the thought of you with some other man—somehow the possibility never crossed his mind. In his mind, you are the girl who shelters underneath his arm when it thunders, who tucks her face into his chest when the movie is too scary, who peppers his faces with kisses and makes him lemonade after a good training session, who puts flower crowns on his head when they spend a weekend outside the city and makes apple pies so fulfilling he could cry, who would never love another man because you are so wholly, helplessly, in love with him.

And he left you anyway.

So he nods, because he deserves this.

He deserves this, and he leaves.

The wind is warm against his cheeks as he tries to think how he ended up here in Puerto Vallarta, although he does know. Sam dropped him off here with a mission that’ll hopefully lead to another, and you can build a new life for yourself, Steve. One without her in it. If you need something, you know you can call me.

An arms deal. He got a tipoff from one of his CIs that it’s happening tonight by the docks, because he needs his own resources now. There is no Ross, no Tony, no Natasha, no one on his side.

His body yearns for a fight, and he gets it when he hears a soft voice down the docks, speaking in British English, just barely over the lap of the ocean. Crouching behind a metal freight container, he tries to distinguish the voices. At least three bodies, all armed, and his target. One of the biggest arms dealers in Britain down here to make a deal.

Steve, darting out from his cover and to the fire escape by the warehouse, catches a glimpse of the silhouettes of the men waiting. Their shadows are long against the concrete of the dock. The metal clangs underneath his boots as he slowly climbs the steps.

“Where is this woman?” the first man asks roughly, impatience laced through his tone as Steve pulls himself onto the roof. Feet pattering over the metal roof of the warehouse, he keeps himself crouched as the warm, golden sunlight filters through the oily heat. He’s sweating through the kevlar suit he’s got strapped on, and droplets beads around his forehead as he adjusts the shield gauntlets along his wrists.

“She said seven, sir.”

“Tardiness,” the man tsks. “We should’ve known better than to deal with the likes of her. What did I say?”

“That you shouldn’t trust an American, sir.”

“Precisely.” Leaning over the roof, Steve spots the man in question speaking, his suit glowing from the lamplight he stands beneath and he grips the edge of the roof, frowning. The buyer and the seller in one foul swoop. A car door slams and he blinks, tearing his eyes away from his count of at least twelve men, three standing around crates and the other around the man complaining.

A woman steps out of the car, pocketing her phone as she walks towards the illuminated circle, and he frowns, narrowing his eyes. Her face is covered by hair that sways with her every step, but her figure is outlined by the fit of her pantsuit. Even through the clothes, he can see the curve of muscle, the purpose in her step.

A dangerous woman.

“Sorry for the hold up,” she calls out, her voice smooth, rich with confidence. Steve frowns as she stops just outside the circle of light, her silhouette illuminated by warm, rusty orange and cloaked in shadow. “You wouldn’t believe the legalities surrounding contraband in America,” she continues teasingly. “Let me see.”

The man jerks his head to one of his henchman by the crates who cracks it open revealing sleek black rifles, laser sights, silver canisters with a bar along the sides: EMPs, grenades of all kinds. “Is it to your satisfaction?”

“It is. I’m docked in bay four. My men will meet yours there,” she says and head honcho nods. It’s a sign for the three men to pick up one crate each and begin their slow trail up the docks. The crates are massive things, hard black metal that softly rattles with every sway and Steve’s ears prick as the woman steps closer, her heels sharp against concrete.

“I assume this concludes our business, ma’am. It has been a profitable few months. I hope you find your new treasures… helpful in your endeavors.”

“Oh, I’d love to keep communications open. You’ve been a wonderful seller, and as you know, I pay handsomely for quality goods.” Despite his previous irritation, the boss seems to straighten, smiling almost as the men around look at each other. Money. It all comes down to money.

“Of course. My London warehouse, as you know, is open to you should you find yourself across the sea.”

“Perfect. Pleasure doing business with you.” It is then that she steps into the light, and Steve’s eyes narrow at the glint of metal on her ears and in her hair as she reaches forward to shake the man’s hand.

And twist it behind his back, using him as a body shield between her and his henchmen. Her other hand goes to her head, pulling out the pin and digging it gently into the man’s throbbing vein at his neck. It sits comfortably in her palm, almost as if it is molded for her and Steve’s muscles tense, blood rushing to his fingertips.

“Shoot her, now.”

“Watch it, Fitz,” hisses the woman, voice low. She digs the tip of the pin deeper. In the washed lamplight, Steve can see the curve of the blade, the hoop her finger slots into. A throwing knife. “I want you out of this situation alive.”

The knife trails down his body to his thigh and she wraps her fingers tighter around the handle.

Schluck.

The man’s scream rings in Steve’s ears as she tosses the man aside, diving to a stack of wooden crates. Wood and stone splinters beneath the force of bullets following at her heels but she simply unclasps one of her earrings, presses a button and throws it over the crates.

There’s a moment of silence as the men stare at the device at their feet before there is an explosion of smoke. He watches as the woman vaults over the crates and sprints into the cloud and Steve leaps off the roof, pumping his arms to activate his shield gauntlets.

The first man he comes into contact with lets out a startled scream as Steve punches his lights out and his blood is singing. Smoke burns at his eyes and thickens in his lungs as he whirls around, spotting a shadow of a man and he runs toward him, sweeping out a leg to take him down before slamming his knuckles into his nose until he’s knocked out cold and there’s a painful grunt behind him, the resounding collapse of a body that has no intention of getting up again.

Bullets whiz past his face, slamming into concrete and flesh as something rushes past him and he grabs the charging man, swinging his whole body weight into his arms and bringing them both crashing into the ground. The smell of sweat leaks into his mouth as he shoves the curve of his shield into the henchman’s stomach. Once. Twice. Thrice.

The man is rolled over, eyes scrunched tight, when Steve gets off of him.

Eyes straining through the smoke, he watches as a shadow charges at two figures, latching onto the first man and striking the geezer behind him with a power kick to the chest with both legs. The second man stumbles back just as the shadow swings her legs back and brings the first man down to the ground.

Natasha.

That was something he’d seen Natasha practice a hundred times over.

The thought makes his blood run cold and he pauses for a moment, the smoke beginning to thin out as she rolls over the first man and takes down the second with two punches to the gut and a knee to the nose.

Natasha.

This can’t be real. No. Natasha is dead.

Unless they brought her back.

No, Sam would’ve told him, wouldn’t he?

He’s not sure anymore.

His throat cinches shut at the thought of the redhead, of the woman who’d been by his side for years, who encouraged him to fall in love with you. Maybe it’s Natasha’s ghost haunting him, taunting him with some lookalike spy, reminding him of his mistake, and he feels himself paralyzed. The memories, the smile of hers before they went back in time— He’d felt so exhausted at the responsibility of it all, the five years of his failure weighing down between his shoulders. It all rushes back to him: your wobbling lips, brave face on his brave girl, fingers digging into his suit, ordering him to come home safe, Natasha’s coy little smile.

See you in a minute.

Strong legs wrap around his abdomen and he lets out a grunt, yanked out of his dazed state as he wrenches the attacker off his back. The woman falls with smack but her fingers dig into his wrists. Her legs wrap around his arm, dragging him down with her.

Steve pitches forward, tumbling forward as she slams his hand into the concrete. His skull collides with the ground and he squeezes his eyes tight, pain blooming from the back of his head. A sharp knee digs into his other elbow and he sucks in a deep breath, eyes fluttering open to a blurry face.

“No.” The word comes out choked and he blinks against the streetlight, eyebrows furrowing together and the weight vanishes off of him. “It can’t be.” Sitting up, he feels his head swim in a dull ache, world tilting as the woman takes a step away from him. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

The words ring in his ears, cold, wretched, and he jerks his head up to see your face drained of blood, lips parted, eyes wide. Your shoulders are shaking, chest heaving for air and it rattles in your lungs. Steve can hear your heart pounding, your throat swallowing nothing but wet air.

“Y/N—” He soaks in your figure, the muscle, the confidence, the sharp lines where everything had been soft. You don’t even look too different—you just feel different. He used to sink into your arms thinking of golden sunlight and soft pillows. Now, when he looks at you, he thinks of serrated edges, ironwire bones. You’ve lost your heels in the fight, but you look taller than he’s ever seen you. “You’re… it’s you.”

“Steve.” For a moment, your voice is choked up and your expression softens as you scan his face, but then you tear your eyes away. Your hair is chopped shorter for practicality, just barely past your shoulders. It suits you. Suits the girl he loves, the girl he doesn’t know anymore. “Steve.”

“Are you hurt?” He reaches for you but you shrink back like he’s burned you. This isn’t who you are. You’ve never been a fighter, yet here you stand, pantsuit a bit scuffed but otherwise untouched, and his stomach twists into a Gordian knot. This is what Sam was warning him about. The snake in the garden come to life. “What are you doing here? You could’ve gotten hurt, doll—”

“Don’t call me that. You don’t have that right anymore,” you spit, voice pure poison. He pushes himself to his feet just as something makes you pause and your eyebrows knit together, raising your left wrist where a watch is strapped on. His head is spinning from his skull cracking against concrete and the new revelation that the girl he knows is a stranger again. He wobbles for a moment, arms out to the side as he tries to regain his bearings but you don’t so much as give him another second of your attention. “Docks are secure, Fury. Fitz is ready for pickup. I’ll send London co-ordinates when I get back to base.”

Steve glances at the bleeding man still panicking about the knife sticking out of his leg, and you go over to him, hauling him to his feet. The man shivers, whimpers when he puts weight on his injured leg but you give no hint that you care. As if on cue, a helicopter swerves through the air, rotors sending powerful gales of air down to the ground as it lowers itself to the ground and you look at Steve with a cold disinterest, hand a fist around Fitz’s collar.

“Believe it or not, I’m not just Captain America’s pretty little girlfriend anymore.”

“I just want to talk—”

“There’s nothing I want to say to you.” Turning around, you lug Fitz into the helicopter with a strength Steve doesn’t recognize and you climb onto the chopper with a grace he knows didn’t exist before he left you.

Don’t go. Please don’t go. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.

“I’m going back to the compound,” you say over the loud gusts of wind whipping at the ground. “You’ll find Bucky there, if that’s who you’re really here for because if I wasn’t enough for you then, then I certainly won’t be enough for you now.” Pulling back into the helicopter, you yank the door shut with a slam, and Steve watches as it rises, a steady ascension to a place where he can’t follow.

His stomach twists, his whole body wracked with a shaking agony as his heart pushes itself up your throat. Falling to his knees, he keens over and throws up, acid splashing between his hands. He vomits out his heart, every inch of warmth you’ve ever given him so freely, every smile he’s taken for granted, the taste of your smile after you’ve made those apple pies.

He’s left hollowed out, colder than death.

He wants to cry, but even his mind tells him you don’t deserve to cry for the woman you chased away, so he laughs. Laughs until they turn into tears, and even then they don’t feel real. His body is unwilling to yield to the possibility of defeat, and yet here he is.

It was a one in a million chance for us both to survive that Snap, Steve. And Thanos destroyed the stones. If we can’t find a way to bring them back… maybe the only thing we can do now is move on.

Some people move on. But not us... Not us

Take your ring and give it to the girl you really love because it isn’t me.

Steve’s shock. There was less of a protest, only your determination to stop your lip from trembling, the tears already falling from glassy eyes. Grief bit him in the stomach, but yearning tugged his heart toward the platform.

If all you could think about in the ten years we were together was Peggy, I don’t see why I should stop you.

Y/N, you know I love you.

Not enough.

The compound is different. Different plot of land, different inhabitants, different facilities. He pulls up in the lot where the Avengers sign is carved into the stone and he walks the grounds, grounds he used to know but this is different soil.

Another man’s grounds.

“Steve,” Sam says, cautious on the track. He’s wearing a tee-shirt and shorts, skin glistening with sweat and a water bottle in hand. He’s got a comm link in his ear and it glows blue for a moment before muting itself. There are a few recruits running a few laps and Steve eyes them wearily before approaching Sam. His beard was shaved two days ago, his hair chopped clean even though it makes him more noticeable now. He hopes no one says anything about the old Captain America pathetically dragging himself back to a place he tried to run from. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. told me you came in.”

“Yeah. I… I just wanted to see Bucky.” Your name bites at his tongue and it takes all his strength not to confess what happened down in Mexico before Sam glances behind him to a building he doesn’t recognize. It’s connected to the main facility by a long tunnel but there are doors to the track as well, and they open just as Steve fixes his gaze on it.

Two figures stumble out of the building, a piercing shriek splitting the air with glee as one of them runs away from the other. Even from the distance, Steve can see the metal glint of Bucky’s arm, your favourite swimsuit strapped to your body. Bucky’s holding onto something as he chases after you and you barrel through the grass, towel cloaking your shoulders.

“They’re happy, man,” Sam murmurs lowly as they get onto the track and you’re still running but you’re no match for a super soldier. Bucky scoops you up, tossing aside his water gun and wrapping you in a huge hug from behind. “Even if Barnes wants to see you, do you think she does?”

“I already saw her in Mexico,” he utters softly. You’re laughing so loudly it makes Steve’s chest explode with light. You thrash in Bucky’s arms and he pretends to nip at your skin, growl into your ear as you tug at the towel around your neck. You’re… you. Just as he left you. Nothing like Mexico. “Why is she in the field, now? She’s not a soldier.”

“That’s for her to explain, not me. I don’t get to try to describe the hell you put her through, Steve.” Bucky puts you down and your feet in those strappy tan sandals sink into the grass as you spin around. You plant a kiss gently on Bucky’s lips, using the corner of your towel to wipe away drips from his hair before stealing another kiss. Steve’s mouth tingles, burning uncomfortably and he looks away. That used to be him, leaving the pool, smelling like chlorine and sweat and then popsicles to cool down because nothing screamed summer like fruit popsicles and swimming.

“Steve?” A tentative voice calls and Steve’s eyes refocus to the source on reflex. You’re staring at him, eyes narrowed into knife points and you hold Bucky’s arm to your chest, your fingers entwined with his as his old friend walks towards him. “Steve— you’re back? What are you… what are you doing here?”

“Guess the past isn’t where I belong,” he says with a forced smile that digs into his cheeks and Bucky lets go of your hand to hug him but his lips are parted, his eyes wide. He doesn’t believe this is real and when Steve meets your eyes over Bucky’s shoulder, your gaze is burning. Bucky’s arms squeeze around Steve tighter, tight enough that even he can’t breathe. He’s shattered in his arms, Bucky is, and Steve can only hold him.

“Let’s go inside,” Sam says, ever the mediator. Steve looks at him but his eyes are on you, and Bucky’s pulling back and then his eyes are on you, too. All eyes on you and your worried lip between your teeth. You’re tanned, toned, and your hair is shining underneath the summer sun as Bucky steps away from Steve as well. As if the euphoria of having his best friend is gone—it is. He chose a daydream over his family. “You guys need to get dry.”

“Yeah,” Bucky murmurs, eyes darkening as they linger on Steve’s face. Soaking him in, thinking a thousand miles a minute, trying to sort through whatever storm lingers in his head. His eyebrows hood his gaze as he lowers his head and Steve can see him slip away as you take Bucky’s hand, cup his face, and turn him away.

“Popsicles, yeah? Gotta get the last ones before Wanda steals ‘em away,” you whisper and Bucky’s nose brushes against your head before they begin to walk away. Bucky’s shoulders are hunched over and you’ve got an arm around his waist, and there is something sacred in the way his head brushes against yours, the way his arm drapes around your shoulders. The way his fingers play with the fluffy towel around you, bringing the corner of it to your wet cheek. The way you step in tandem.

Something tender, something hallowed, something not his.

You’d been sharp and scorched in Mexico. In Bucky’s presence, you are nothing but dewy grass and a gentle fire, and he sees the tension ease in your shoulders despite a knot lingering in your back.

Once you’d been soft like cotton clouds like it was your nature, eager to stay away from the fight. You were just the receptionist at Stark Towers and Steve had fallen first, so eager to protect you because you were kind, gentle, funny and you didn’t care about who he was. Just that he was Steve and you were you.

I can’t let anything happen to you. You can’t protect yourself against these guys, Y/N. They’re… they’re monsters.

And he left you to them anyway, in a world still struggling to find itself repopulated and alive—

I failed you. I failed everyone.

The realization devastates him. No matter how hard he tried to fix the world, he destroyed his life anyway.

“Come on, man. If you wanna talk, we should do it in private,” Sam says. Steve follows him numbly into a building he doesn’t know anymore.

You’re sitting with your legs bent and angled in towards Bucky, playing with a butterfly knife that flows too easily between your nimble fingers. Sam sits on the leather seat and Steve leans back into the sofa as you bite softly into your red popsicle. Strawberry. Your favourite.

Bucky’s sucking down a blue one but his face is placid, eyes burning into the glass table between them as Sam sits down with a cup of coffee he had offered to make for Steve. The blade flips over your index finger, and then back around again. Your hair is stringy and wet, tied away from your face as you set down the knife and turn to Bucky, eyes searching. You brush his hair away from his face even though it’s cropped shorter now and smile even though he doesn’t focus on you.

He doesn’t miss Bucky’s hand around the curve of your thigh, holding you to him as if you’ll slip away otherwise. He fights the nasty remark pounding against his teeth—that’s his girl his best friend’s got his hand on—but he knows it isn’t his place anymore. Steve watches you lick sweet strawberry melt from your lips, trail your fingers along Bucky’s head delicately and pull his temple towards you for a quick peck.

It’s almost as if Bucky wakes up at your touch, and he turns to you. He searches too, scans your gaze and Steve feels like he’s intruding on a moment so he looks into his lap.

“So?” Sam prompts, tearing everyone out of whatever bubble they’ve encased themselves in and pulling them back into harsh reality. “Who wants to go first?”

There’s silence where Bucky puts down his popsicle stick on the bowl brought out, blue melt sliding down the wood slowly as you bite down on the last of your own treat.

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice is quiet, accepting already.

“I have so many things to say and I don’t even know how to say any of it, but I know to apologize,” the blond says after a moment of hesitation. His breath keeps catching in your throat and you lean forward to drop off your own stick by Bucky’s, almost a statement to his own words. “I’m sorry.”

“For?” Sam asks for clarity, but Steve entertains the notion that maybe even his friend wants to draw it out of him.

“I didn’t know what I had until I lost it.” Steve makes a point to meet three pairs of eyes except you refuse to look at him, instead staring into Bucky’s lap like he doesn’t even exist, like you don’t exist either. “I should’ve stayed. Should’ve thought it through and realized that... everything I had back then is everything I had here.”

“Is that all?” Bucky stares at him with something like pity, something like jealousy, and Steve knows it has all to do with the woman in his arms. Ten years of conflict to push lovers together compared to five years of overcoming heartache because of one man. Steve would be jealous—had been jealous of Steve of 2012. 2012 Steve had a whole decade of love waiting for him and he has none. “Are you here to stay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“If you think you can come here and have everything that was yours just given to you on a silver platter, then you’re wrong,” you speak up for the first time and it sucks all the warmth out of the room. Bucky turns to you, hand raising from your thigh to brush a wet strand of hair away from your cheek and you clench your jaw, lips pressed together. “We built our lives without you in it.”

“Y/N.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees but you seem to shrink away from him, eyes tortuously meeting his.

“You leaving me was the best thing that could’ve ever happened to me,” you whisper with a rage unbridled, unchained, just barely containing itself from exploding. “It made me realize how much stronger I am then you have ever given me credit for.”

“You weren’t that girl when I met you.” Soft girl with sunshine smiles and gauzy white dresses—lemonade pitchers, tulip gardens—you weren’t that girl, Steve’s mind protests but when you unwind from the couch, stretch every languid muscle in your body, he wonders if he ever saw you as anything more than someone he had to protect.

“I believed you when you said I couldn’t fight.” You stand, gazing openly at him and he swallows at the hopelessness residing in your gaze, still there after five years. “That I wasn’t enough like you to even try to help. All I ever was to you was some pretty little thing who was scared to fight back and maybe I was because you sheltered me for ten fucking years.” Your voice twists with pain, overflowing with a frustration of lost time and pure, pure sadness. “You leaving me made me stand on my own two feet again.”

Bucky reaches forward to take your hand when they all see it tremble but you simply roll it into a fist and step away.

“You put me through hell, Steve. I had to learn how to fight for myself because you weren’t there. Because you left me for some fucking daydream.” For a moment, he thinks you soften because your eyebrows fall and you close your eyes. The muscle in your jaw ticks, your nose twitches, and when you open your eyes again, they are glassy with tears. “You utterly destroyed me, you know that? I loved you more than I needed to breathe and you just walked away. I lost everything and you walked away.”

Tony. Natasha. Boss. Best friend. Colleague. Sister.

“How could you do that?” you whimper, blinking as tears scorch down your cheeks and you wipe them away angrily with the heel of your hand. “How could you just look at me, look at Sam, look at Bucky, and think that there is nothing worth staying for?” You throw out your hand helplessly, waiting for an answer that won’t come and Steve chews on the inside of his cheek, throat swelling shut.

“It felt like minutes,” Bucky says at last, and the darkness in the room, the stifled feeling in Steve’s chest eases only a tad because Bucky is not nearly as thunderous as you are. You twist to look at him, arms crossed over your chest and Sam reaches to touch your arm, fingers wrapped around your bicep. You spare him a glance before looking at Bucky. “We died, we came back five years later, and it only felt like minutes.”

“Bucky—”

“You chose to leave what felt like minutes after I died, after Sam died, and when Y/N told me what happened… Steve…” A shuddering convulses down his throat and Bucky looks down into his lap. You unfold your arms and immediately go to sink into the couch, wrapping an arm around Bucky. Your eyes pin him down, red-rimmed with unshed tears, accusing: you did this to an already broken man.

“I’m so sorry, Buck.” The apology sounds plastic in his mouth with how many times he’s said it, thought it. “I’m so sorry.” He says it again anyways, and he directs it at the two other bodies in the room. You gauge his expression, watch him like he’ll vanish in a flash of smoke.

“I was happy for you if leaving meant I never had to see you again. I know you deserve a happy ending, Steve. You deserve rest more than anyone I know,” he says, “but you need to know what you want before you decide to risk it all. You can’t come crawling back for second chances because there are none. You don’t come back and have everything stay the same. There’s a price every time you give something up.” He looks up, eyes like clear water. There’s nothing angry in his old friend’s gaze, just drained. “If you’re here to stay, you better be sure that this is what you want in the end.” And then Bucky is up, rubbing at his face like he’s tired rather than an inch from crying. Steve watches him go—they all do—silently, and then you look at Sam who gets up to follow.

There’s a moment when you meet eyes with Steve and he can feel the love you swaddled him in for ten years, through the Snap, through the Accords. No matter where he was, you were there.

Then that love disappears.

“I want you to hurt like you made me hurt,” you begin softly, hands folded in your lap, t-shirt hanging off your frame, stuffed into your shorts. “Like you still make me hurt. I want you to wake up crying, I want you to rub your face raw, I want you to stay awake all night just wondering why this has happened. I want nothing more than you begging on your knees for something you can’t stop no matter how hard you try because somehow you just aren’t enough.”

He closes his eyes, lets your words devour him whole.

“Bucky was there,” you continue quietly. “He was there for me in a way you never were. He drove me home after you left. Told me that the best was yet to come. That I just couldn’t see it yet, and I didn’t believe him. For the longest time, I didn’t believe a single word he said.”

“Until you did.”

“Until one day, I looked at him and told him I know. That I know, one day, things will change,” you agree and something melts in your voice when you speak of Bucky. Kindred souls, the same heartache lurking still in chests just beginning to warm from love again. “Maybe it hurt less that day so I decided that I have to accept that this was my life now or maybe I was just so sick of crying that I told myself that this isn’t who I’m going to be. I don’t know. I just woke up one day, and he asked if I wanted to go swimming. First summer after everyone came back, and I wanted to say no, but I just had to say yes because it was swimming, and it was Bucky, and he was barely holding it together but here he was… taping and gluing me like I was some abstract project.” You chuckle, a wet sound, before glancing down at your knees. There is something you’re not telling him, and he knows it’s something secret to you and Bucky alone, so he doesn’t push it. Doesn’t ask—his chest already feels like it’s cracked open. “Some of the pieces won’t ever fit again.”

“Bucky,” Steve says, “did he train you?”

“Yeah.” Explains a Black Widow move. You sound proud, but not of yourself, of your own feats and talent, but of him. “He encouraged it. Said it was only right I knew how to fight.” Steve’s stomach turns and he looks down to swallow. Bile is burning in his throat. The threads of his heart are tearing.

“I know it’s all I’ve been saying, but I’m sorry. I… I just tried to protect you in every way I could.”

“I know.” Your words are soft against his battered ears, and he looks up at you sitting there, ramrod straight but a certain gentleness that reminds him of the past. “I know you loved me in the way you could.” Clutching, grasping, desperate not to lose another woman he loves. “When you saw Peggy, did you just decide that that was easier?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I just felt like I was missing something. Something…”

“... you couldn’t find here?”

“Just something.”

You ruminate on that, eyes fixed on the popsicle sticks and Steve rubs his hands together, head bowed. The silence is terse but not hostile, and you pick up the butterfly knife on the cushion. You don’t flick it open, just run your thumb over the edge and Steve thinks you might cut him stem to stern before you place it down on the glass table.

“I used to stay up all night wondering where I went wrong,” you say it frankly. It’s not meant to hurt him anymore. You seem tired of being angry, but it’s still there, just there underneath your skin. “I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t eat unless Bucky made me. I would’ve rather starved than live in a world where you didn’t love me, but he said if he had to go on, then so did I. He never asked for anything in return, and I was just so fucking angry at myself that I listened to him just to spite myself. I cried all the time. I didn’t move from my bed for months. Yet, one little part of me,” you murmur, gaze rising to meet his, “always just wanted you to be happy. I wanted so desperately for you to make the right choice because then maybe this would’ve been worth it for you.”

It’s big. Your words hang on imaginary strings around his head, whistling in the faint air conditioned wind, and he clenches his jaw, unable to tear his eyes away from you. Although you’re barely holding yourself together before him, you’re deathly beautiful.

“I’m so glad that you’re so loved,” Steve intones quietly. “I’m so thankful that Bucky loves you.” He doesn’t need eyes to feel it. It’s a quiet thing, unshaking yet fragile as flowers and light as dandelion wisps.

“I didn’t think he did.” You lean back into the couch, tuck your feet underneath yourself and cross your arms over your chest. “It took me a long time to accept that he does, and now he won’t believe that I do, too.”

The confession sinks its teeth into Steve’s throat and threatens to tear his flesh.

“I tell him and I can tell he doesn’t believe me sometimes. No matter how much I want him to, it’s the one thing he can’t believe because…”

You were my girl, Steve thinks.

“He doesn’t believe he’s worth staying for. Worth choosing. You did that to him, you know? Did that to me.”

“I know.”

You stare at him and he looks at you, curled up on the couch. Your face is drying, but that torn expression still sits on your face as you run a hand over your middle, fingers folding as you close your eyes and duck your head.

His eyes trace the gesture, eyebrows knitting together, and then he looks at you because he knows. Because it had been their dream once, and when the fight is over, baby. The world still needs you, Captain America.

He had said, half joking, When will they ever stop needing me?

When you grow old and grey, and another Captain America is ready to take your place.

“Bucky’s?” he asks, body numbing. You nod, raising your eyes to his. “Does he know?”

“No. I only found out a few days after Mexico.” Three weeks ago. “I want to make it past a few more weeks, just to make sure.” You tuck your knees to your chest, arms folded over your abdomen and Steve tries to imagine it swollen with life. No longer lean with muscle but bountiful with a miracle. Blue eyes, blonde hair— no. Not anymore. “Just wanted time.”

Time. It’s all he’s ever wanted, and now…

“I know.”

Now he has none at all.

Your eyes meet his, fluttering and haunted, and he simply meets your gaze. There’s a quiet understanding in that moment as you bring your hands up to hug yourself, and he swallows, leaning back into the couch. His hands rest on his thighs, and your back sinks into the back cushion of your loveseat as he thinks of what to say.

Perhaps there is nothing to say.

Instead, his right hand goes to his pocket where a ring is still pinched tightly in between the creases. The diamond is sharp against his flesh, and he tugs it out carefully before setting it on the glass table between them. You stare at the thing, watch it glint. It’s mocking you, but Steve doesn’t want it and he doesn’t know what else to do.

“It’s always been yours,” he says, pushing it to your side of the table. The diamond scrapes against glass but doesn’t leave a mark. “It’s never been anyone else’s but yours.” The ring clatters against the gass. You’d worn that damned thing for years on end. First it was the Accords, then Wakanda, then the Snap, and he should’ve married you when he had the chance—he should’ve done so much more than what he did.

“Do you love me?” you ask quietly, eyes unmoving from the winking gemstone. The golden band is glowing in the pale lights of the compound as he nods.

“Yes.”

You reach forward to grab it, extend a leg to shove it into the pocket of your shorts, and then you’re sitting there, feet on solid ground again. You gauge him, study him, eyebrows down, lips curved into a soft frown.

“Okay.”

You stand and pick up the knife before grabbing the bowl as well. You clear your throat and look over Steve’s head, at the walls with photographs and paintings and a dartboard by the doorway, and then you look at Steve again.

Your futile attempt at a smile makes Steve smile, just barely, before you walk past him and head for the open kitchen. You set the bowl down in the sink before heading for the hallway, and Steve can hear your step, your off-rhythm breathing.

“Do you love me?” he asks, turning to look at you, and a sigh whispers past his lips as you pause. Your hand is in your pocket as you turn around, playing with the knife or the ring, he doesn’t know.

“You can’t ask me that, Steve.” Your voice is steel, your eyes unforgiving, and that soft girl is swallowed up by the scorched woman, burned by his absence. You haven’t forgiven him. You never will. “Look, I’m going to go find Bucky. We have… we’re going berrypicking in the afternoon, so…”

“Yeah, no, go. Don’t let me keep you.”

“See you tomorrow, Rogers.”

There’s an utter sense of finality to it. A chapter closing permanently and you’re already on the next page.

“See you.”

The door slides shut and you’re gone.

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could-be-calliope · 5 years ago

Audio

“How is it that every character you ever play in these one-shots I instantly hate?” (a supercut of alex’s most annoying pcs)

[Transcript below the cut]

[Audio transcript: A collection of excerpts from various episodes from the Rusty Quill Gaming podcast. Cast members include Alex Newall, Ben Meredith, Lydia Nicholas, Helen Gould, Bryn Monroe, and James Ross.

[An excerpt from RQG New Year Special 2517! Part 1]

Ben: “…Following Simon?”

Alex: “Uh, well, uh, Mister D. Medic walks in, that’ll be Doctor Medic, Mister Doctor Medic.”

(Everyone laughs.)

Bryn: “How is that every character you ever play in these one-shots I instantly hate?”

(Lydia laughs.)

Alex: “It’s a talent that I’m gonna build a career on, I promise.”

[Excerpt from RQG Space Pals Special Part 1 with special guest Tim Meredith.]

Helen: “Alex. Tell us about your character.”

Alex as Shmerr, in a nasal and unhappy voice: “I’m Shmerr.”

(Ben groans, Helen begins laughing, Lydia squeaks (in character).)

Ben, overlapping: “Oh no. He’s got that voice, Alex? Dangerous, dangerous!”

Alex as Shmerr: “Hot.”

Tim, overlapping: “The real ‘mister squee.’”

Alex as Shmerr: “I’m Shmerr, we are— I am of the Desoliums. Um, we are very pro-administration.”

(Everyone groans.)

[Excerpt from Deadlands Halloween Special 2016 Part 1 with special guest Jonny Sims.]

Jonny: “Alex?”

Alex as Nathaniel Fletcher, in a questionable American accent: “So, I’m Nathaniel Fletcher. I am a male. I’m not a thief, but if I was a thief, I’d be a really good thief. Um, and I’m extremely attractive, everyone I know tells me so, even if you haven’t heard it, it’s said a lot.”

[Excerpt from RQG Broken Worlds Special Part 1]

Lydia: “Alex… who are you and how did you get here? Also, introduce your character.”

(Alex and Helen laugh.)

Alex: “Funny you should say that. So, uh. Well, I’m Ilithankirian Delitrius Indicantorius.”

(Helen groans.)

Lydia, overlapping: “Good demon name.”

Alex, smugly: “Good, it’s a devil name actually, thank you, yeah.”

[Excerpt from RQG Trail of Cthulhu Part 1 with special guest Sean Smith.]

Alex: “And last but not least, me.”

Alex as Dr. Julian Blake, in a tone that can only be described as slimy: “I’d like to say that I struck up a friendship with the Cheedlehume family—”

(Lydia groans and Ben starts to laugh.)

Lydia: “None of us can handle that voice!”

Alex: “I think—”

Ben, overlapping: “You can see Bryn physically shudder.”

Alex: “I think—”

Bryn: “The voice makes me want to just take a shower!”

Lydia: “Are you—like why couldn’t you—you’re at school!”

Ben, overlapping: “—At school together.”

Alex as Dr. Julian Blake: “I’d like to say I was a bad influence on you.”

Ben as Herbert Cheedlehume: “Nope!”

Alex as Dr. Julian Blake: “I said I’d like to, not that I was.”

Ben as Herbert Cheedlehume: “Oh right, fair enough.”

/end transcript]

#rusty quill gaming #alexander j newall #alex j newall #rqg #rusty quill #im proud of this u guys i actually put time into it #I didn't include Eddie because he's a darling and I love him so much #accessible #calliope's thoughts

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mksc77 · 4 years ago

Text

A little World Series celebration/Halloween fic :) Hope y’all like it! 💜

"Hi, you guys," Sharon greeted as Provenza and Patrice followed Andy onto the back porch. She nodded at the bottle of wine in Patrice's hands. "Ahh, this is why we're friends. You bring gifts."

"I got red so Louie wouldn't drink half of it," Patrice murmured as she gave her the bottle. "I've gained a few pounds with all of this isolation and have been drinking more than normal, so I'm trying to cut back."

"So have I," Sharon agreed, "but tonight will have to be an exception. My nerves are already shot, and the game hasn't even started." October had been a crazy month for sports. Sharon nor Andy were basketball fans, but with a local team playing in the NBA finals, they'd watched most of the games and had been excited for a Lakers championship. And admittedly had the best sex they'd ever had afterward. The World Series had started just a few days later, and it seemed like they'd spent most of the month glued to the TV. With neither couple having ventured out in the last week or so, they'd decided that a socially-distanced, outdoor viewing of the game together would be reasonably safe.

Andy was watching the pregame coverage on TV. "Damn, I miss Vin Scully. Baseball still hasn't been the same without him."

Sharon rolled her eyes. "Oh, god, here we go. There better not have to be a seventh game, because I don't think I can handle another night of Scully mourning."

"The man was a legend!" Andy protested.

"Honey, it's been a couple of years since he retired. I think it's about time to get over it."

"Blasphemy," Andy muttered.

By the Fifth Inning, the game was looking grim. "I feel like I'm watching a little girl's t-ball game," Provenza complained.

Sharon raised an eyebrow. "You clearly never saw any of Emily's games. She was probably the only five-year-old in history to turn t-ball into a contact sport. I was actually relieved when she was a little older and decided to give up other activities to put more time into ballet."

Andy shook his head. "Shocking."

"Wait a minute, what's happening?" Provenza asked when the Rays coach trotted out to the pitcher's mound. "Surely, he's not taking out Snell? He's only allowed two hits all night!"

Andy shrugged. "I wouldn't complain. He's made our guys look like they've never held a bat before."

Provenza sipped his wine. "I'm not complaining, either, but this would have to be the dumbest call—yep, there he goes. This is about to be a gamechanger…He's putting Anderson in? He's been pathetic all month!"

"Did Cash bet against his own team or something?" Andy asked. "It's like he's trying to lose this game."

True to their prediction, Betts almost immediately hit a double down the left field line. After a wild pitch and another hit, the score had turned from a 1-0 deficit to a 2-1 lead in just a few plays.

"There are the boys I know and love," Sharon commented, finishing off her glass of wine and pouring another.

By the last inning, with the Dodgers up by two and one out away from winning the game, Provenza massaged two fingers against his chest. "I don't know if it's the wine or this game that's giving me heartburn. Do you know where my little purple pills are?" He asked Patrice.

"Yeah, in the cabinet right beside your little blue ones," Patrice answered, without hesitation.

"A simple yes would've sufficed," Provenza grumbled.

Andy laughed, and Sharon just focused on her wine glass, trying not to laugh, herself. "I hope there's some Xanax in there somewhere, too," Sharon whispered to Patrice.

"No, that's in my purse." Patrice rolled her eyes. "I'm not above crushing some into his wine glass when he leaves it unattended."

Rusty looked confused. "What's the big deal about blue pills—oh, gross," he whined, connecting the dots.

"Okay, come on, one more strike," Sharon murmured, looking back at the TV. "All right!" Everyone except Rusty jumped up and cheered, yelling and high-fiving. Rusty didn't get the baseball obsession and just watched.

"As much as I'd love to stay and celebrate, it's time to shift the focus to a different variety of balls," Provenza said, indicating for Patrice to get up. "If we don't get home soon, I really might need one of those blue pills, but we're celebrating, one way or the other."

"Do we have to hear this?" Rusty complained.

"It can't be unheard," Andy lamented. "There goes any desire I had to celebrate." Patrice's Viagra jab had been funny, but the following dialogue had been a boner-killer if he'd ever heard one.

"Ewwww, not you, too!" Rusty fled into the house before his gag reflex could be tested any further.

Sharon, a little affected by the night's wine consumption, just laughed helplessly at Provenza's eagerness to get home and Andy's and Rusty's disgust. When the Provenzas were gone, she ran a bath and got one more glass of wine. She'd expected Andy to join her in the bath, as she hadn't thought he'd been serious about his own desire to "celebrate" being gone, but when she got out and found him reading in bed, she was a little disappointed. Still wrapped in her robe, she nibbled at his ear and moved to his neck, thinking she just needed to get things started herself, but Andy shook his head. "Not tonight. I won't be able to do anything without Provenza being in my head, and that's just weird."

"Oh, come on, Andy, the Dodgers just won the World Series for the first time in decades, and in the same month as an NBA championship! When will we have this chance again?"

"I don't know, but not tonight," Andy answered dramatically.

"You can call all the shots," Sharon pleaded. "Whatever you want."

Andy shook his head, unmoved.

Sharon shrugged. "All right, fine." The question wasn't whether or not they were having sex tonight, she would see to it that they did, the question was just how to get there. Her first impulse was to reach for the navy chemise that he could never resist, but something about the situation wanted her to make it a little more challenging than that. Instead, she pulled one of Andy's Dodger's t-shirts over her head and slipped on a pair of panties she knew he loved. "I'm cleaning out my closet tomorrow, so I'm going to go ahead and rearrange some things if we're not doing anything else."

Seeing that Sharon was just in one of his old t-shirts, Andy was relieved that she wasn't going to try to seduce him, so he let his guard down. He went back to his book, but couldn't help but watch her out of the corner of his eye. Damn, those legs. They fucked him over every damn time. He admittedly quivered a bit when she stood on her tiptoes and reached for something at the top of her closet and he could see the lacy, rose-colored panties he loved for her to wear peeking out from under the hem of his t-shirt. Closing his book, his attention was now on her entirely, as he still felt safe from her trying to get him in the mood. He could just enjoy the view and leave it at that. Or not. He was done for when she bent over to put something on a bottom shelf. "All right, fine, you win. Let's do it."

Sharon turned to look at him, wide-eyed and the picture of innocence. "What? I think if I've put on an old t-shirt and am cleaning out my closet, you can assume that the moment has passed."

"Please," it was Andy's turn to beg, "whatever you want. And I'll make sure you finish, one way or the other."

Sharon pretended to think it over. "I mean, if you really want to…"

"Yes. Please. And I'll do the dishes and laundry for a week. And I'll wear that godawful chimney sweep costume for Halloween."

"Deal." Sharon bit back a smile as she pulled her t-shirt over her head. Did she know this man, or what? He was so damn easy.

The next morning, Sharon woke up in Andy's arms, which didn't happen all that often. She wasn't a cuddly sleeper, much to Andy's dismay, but she hadn't had the energy to push him off of her during the night.

"Hey," Andy mumbled, feeling her start to stir against him. Eyes still closed, he tightened his arms around her and pulled her closer to him.

"Hey." Sharon yawned and nuzzled into his shoulder. "I'm still a little weak in the knees after last night, I've gotta say."

Andy kissed the top of her head. "That makes two of us. Damn. We even scared Poppy out of the room."

MCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMC

On Halloween morning, Sharon was reading in the swing on the porch while Rusty studied at the table nearby. Andy walked up the back steps after working in the yard. "What do you want to do for lunch?"

Sharon looked at her watch. "It's 10:00, honey, I haven't gotten that far yet."

"It's only 10:00?" Andy wasn't adjusting to retirement very well. Being confined to the house did not suit him at all. Sharon wasn't a sedentary person, by any means, but she was better at finding things to do and setting personal goals for herself to keep her occupied than he was. She'd been exercising and meditating more than she'd ever had time for before, and while Andy worked out, he still had trouble filling his days.

"Afraid so." Sharon eyed the pumpkins lining the porch steps. "Why don't we carve the pumpkins? That'll be fun, and it'll take some time."

"Anything to distract me from Trademark Law," Rusty agreed. "I'm about to lose my damn mind."

Andy shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

"Nothing gross, Andy," Rusty warned.

Andy tilted his head. "So breasts are out of the question?"

"Mo-om!" Rusty complained.

Sharon rolled her eyes. "Both of you, stop torturing each other!" They had been driving her insane for the last few months.

A little while later, Andy was the last to finish his pumpkin. Sharon and Rusty had taken traditional approaches, but Andy had taken a different direction. "This is my general attitude toward this whole year," he grinned, turning his pumpkin around.

"Wha—Andy!" Sharon shrieked with laughter when she saw "fuck off" carved into his pumpkin. "But you're not wrong about that."

Late that afternoon, Sharon was putting the finishing touches on her Mary Poppins costume. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I miss last year's costume arrangement," Andy lamented, referencing a bet he'd lost with his commanding officer which resulted in a terrible costume for him, but a low-cut, form-fitting dress of a costume for Sharon, which he was always on board for. There was no party this year, but they were planning to sit at the end of their driveway with their neighbors and cocktails for those who imbibed, which was about as close to a costume party as they could get. "Was there not at least a sexy Mary Poppins option?" he whined, indicating her high-necked white blouse and knee-length black skirt. "Halloween is a good excuse to get away with being revealing, but I'm getting nothing from this."

"Oh, really? I guess that makes my night a little less taxing, then." Sharon leaned closer to the bathroom mirror to apply her lipstick. Shocking no one, Andy had honed in on her ass and otherwise barely seemed to notice she was in the room. He was so full of shit. Men. She gave him a knowing look. "But you know you can always sweep my chimney any time."

#Major Crimes #Major Crimes fanfiction #Major Crimes fanfic #Shandy #mikuscfanfic

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peace-coast-island · 4 years ago

Text

Diary of a Junebug

Rock and roll the night away!

What better way to escape than getting lost in music? Headphones on, thoughts off - nothing like some good bops to help get you through the day.

KK Slider's been looking into expanding his musical repertoire so he's been playing around with different genres in hopes of creating a brand new sound. And that's how rock and roll night came to be!

Joining us on this musical adventure are Sonja, with her siblings Robbie and Tiffy, and cousin Bubba. It's been ages since Daisy Jane and I have last hung out with Sonja so it's nice that she and her fam dropped by for a visit. I've hung out with Robbie and Bubba a handful of times while this is the first time I've met Tiffy.

Sonja's been meaning to stop by the camp for a while but life has gotten busy. She also wanted her dad and stepmom to come along too but then something came up so they were unable to make it at the last minute. Same thing for her grandma, though to be honest, camping isn't really her thing so it's probably for the best that she didn't come.

Old Thelma Lou may come across as a cantankerous old lady but she really is a nice person once you get to know her. Underneath that rough exterior is a protective, dedicated, and tough mother figure who wants what's best for you, even if she kinda has a hard time showing how much she cares about you. We video chatted with her before the concert and she's still the same old Thelma Lou, keeping an eye on her children, grandchildren, and their friends in her own unconventional ways.

We also chatted with Buzz and Skeeter, both who are doing well. The reason why they weren't able to join us at the camp is because Skeeter's pregnant again. She and Buzz were going to have a boy last fall but there were complications and the baby was stillborn. So far things are moving along smoothly, but to be safe, Skeeter's on strict bed rest. In about four months, Sonja, Robbie, and Tiffy will have a little sister!

Sonja has been busy working on her graphic novel, which she plans to release in the fall. She's a freelance graphic designer and illustrator, known for posting relatable and funny comics online. I love her art - it's got a sketchy and loose style that's sorta minimal yet super expressive. When I got into digital art, I took some inspiration from Sonja's work by using pencil brushes for line art and the gouache brush for coloring.

After working in the studio for hours on the book over the past several weeks, Sonja felt she could use a change of scenery - which was the main reason why she wanted to come to the camp. She also wants to get back into using traditional mediums like painting so she brought along some canvases and paints. The great outdoors is perfect for finding inspiration when you're in a rut!

Robbie runs a fix-it shop in Elmstown with two of his friends. His specialties are clocks and anything that has a lock thanks to his grandma and dad - Thelma Lou likes collecting clocks and Buzz's a locksmith. He's the reason why the family saves so much on repairs - Robbie and his friends can pretty much fix anything! Elmstown is pretty far but I'm keeping his business card in case I need something fixed like my computer since that'll be more cost effective than sending it to the store where I'll probably get overcharged.

It's a good thing we have Robbie here to help KK Slider with the equipment. He had some old amps and guitars that he'd been meaning to get fixed but since they were custom made, it's hard to find parts that need replacement. Thankfully, Robbie never leaves home without his toolbox and with his magic, we were able to improve the stage setup.

Bubba's still living with Thelma Lou, though he's in the process of moving out to his own place. He's not leaving Rayetown though, just moving to the other side of town so he can be closer to the post office. Along with delivering packages for the citizens of Rayetown, Bubba's also a drummer and occasional lead singer for The Cogwheels, a local band that regularly performs at the Chili Bowl.

Thelma Lou and Bubba have a sweet relationship. He's the oldest of the Harp grandchildren through Thelma Lou's daughter. His parents pretty dumped him on Thelma Lou's doorstep when they moved halfway across the country, which wasn't very nice of them. His mom and grandma have a stormy relationship so that explains why Thelma Lou's kinda overprotective of him, and in return he respects her a lot. Recently though, Bubba and his mom have been keeping in touch sporadically - thanks to Uncle Buzz and Aunt Skeeter. As for his dad though, since he walked out on his mom, he hasn't heard from him in years, which he feels is probably for the best.

And there's Tiffy, the youngest (so far) of the grandchildren. She's seven and a half years old and likes to sing and dance. This is her first time being away from home for a couple days so she's pretty excited about it. Plus, she gets to spend time with her siblings, something she always looks forward to since they live far from home. By the time she was born, Sonja and Robbie had already long moved out of Rayetown. Up until Tiffy came along, Sonja and Robbie rarely visited home, a deliberate choice that they both kinda regretted but at the same time felt it was necessary.

Tiffy's looking forward to the new baby - and she's absolutely certain that things will work out this time. She was really bummed about what happened with her brother, especially since she always wanted a little sibling. Buzz and Skeeter had been trying for years to have another kid - they didn't have Tiffy until about six years into their marriage - and that was after being told many times that they missed the boat. It's a good thing they didn't give up or else Tiffy wouldn't be here today!

While helping KK Slider set up for the concert, we also went sightseeing outside the camp. Now that the weather's warming up and the sun's staying out longer, we can venture further out. The first place we went was the mountains, where Sonja was inspired to pull out her canvases and paints. She's been working on landscapes and backgrounds so it was the perfect opportunity. Since she had a lot of fun doing that, I figured we could do the same in other places outside the camp like the woods or the meadows.

As they were testing out the equipment, KK and Bubba were jamming out while Tiffy danced. She definitely inherited Buzz and Skeeter's dance skills! Tap dancing and ballet are her favorites and she definitely wants to branch out to other forms of dance. Her parents are looking into more dance classes for Tiffy, which she's excited for. One of the reasons why she's looking forward to having another sibling is so she can have a dance partner in the future. Imagine, Tiffy and her little sister, dancing together!

Later, Robbie joined in on the jam session, playing the bass. Apollo, Static, and Cherry joined in as well, and before we knew it, all of them were writing new songs that eventually became the setlist for the concert! Sonja later got into the jam session after Daisy Jane showed her around the cabin and her studio. I sense a collaboration between the two in the near future...

Around 5 we finished setting up for the concert and began preparing for a barbecue dinner. By the time all the food was set up, it was time to rock and roll! I have to say, KK and the campers really outdid themselves with the stage setup. It was a mix of performances by KK Slider and jam sessions by us. The concert was an awesome experience!

In the span of one hour, Bubba and KK wrote Road Ode. KK came up with the intricate melody that's a perfect fusion of his signature sound along with elements of classic rock. Bubba came up with the lyrics, taking inspiration from his relationships with his mother and grandma. Easily one of the highlights of the night.

Apollo sang lead on a number he co-authored with KK Slider titled Old Man Blues. It's a bluesy rock and roll tune with a catchy guitar riff that's stuck in my head as I write this. The light show visuals really add to the vibe of this song, elevating it to another level.

Static and Cherry performed Heavy Metal Ballad as a trio with KK Slider - another song that was just finished today. The song was actually three different compositions that merged into one. Cherry has been playing around with a cool heavy metal beat for a while. She had a good thing going on but had trouble turning it into something, so she put it aside in hopes of finding the right spark to kick it off. Static came up with lyrics for the chorus, originally through a little ditty he called Lightning Muses. And like Cherry, he had something but couldn't figure out what direction he wanted to take it. Then along comes KK Slider, who saw the potential in these two wildly different compositions. Somehow, with his verses and additional melodies, he created an instant hit!

In an unexpected surprise, KK Slider got Daisy Jane and I on to perform a new KK original as well as a couple songs from Lilac and the Cadillacs. The new song, Sky Blue Twilight, is a collaboration between me, Daisy Jane, and KK Slider. It was something we came up with a while back, and I had almost forgotten about it until today. I'm pretty rusty from songwriting but working on this piece was pretty fun! I really should get back into writing music...

Sonja, Robbie, and Tiffy also joined Bubba on stage for another new song, titled All That Rock 'n' Roll. Tiffy sang lead vocals with Sonja on the keys and Robbie on bass. Along with being a fantastic dancer, Tiffy's a great singer! I filmed the whole thing for Bubba so he can send it to Thelma Lou, Buzz, and Skeeter. I have to say, KK Slider and Bubba make a great songwriting team!

Another fun song is Violet Blaze, an upbeat rock and roll tune by KK Slider, Candi, Kabuki, and Spike. KK Slider really outdid himself on that guitar solo! With riffs like that, there's no other song fitting to be titled Violet Blaze. What one can't put into words, music expresses it - one just has to listen and feel.

And of course, in between the new songs were KK Slider classics, but remixed. It's amazing how changing up the genre can give well known songs a fresh makeover! That's what I love about KK Slider's music - the versatility. In terms of reinventing his sound while staying true to himself, I'd say KK Slider succeeded with flying colors!

Aside from Tiffy and the early risers, the rest of us have been rocking and rolling way past midnight. I'm still a bit buzzed from the concert, which just ended less than an hour ago, so I'm gonna unwind for a bit before going to bed.

#animal crossing #animal crossing pocket camp #Diary of a Junebug #headcanon ramble

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argentnoelle · 4 years ago

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Bring Down the House

[batjokes AU based on the “white knight” comic. chapter one: in which Joker almost kills Robin, & reconsiders his life choices] read on ao3

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing, Harley?” Joker growled. “I’m killing Robin.”

He didn’t know why she was so upset. They’d killed people before. Granted—not as many as the public believed. And never like this. Never in the cold, dank underground below the kitchen steps, where the bare bulb creaked overhead. Never Robin. But what could he say? The kid had literally stumbled into his lap. He’d taunted him, at first. Tried to think of what to do with the brat, to stick it to Batman. What would make the funniest joke.

But somehow, every death-trap, every pun, circled sourly in the pit in his stomach. He’d tied him up down here just to keep him still until… until… he didn’t know what. But the more he talked, the angrier he got. At first the Robin had taunted him, and then begged, and then became stubbornly silent.

None of it was funny.

I know, Joker thought. I want to find out Batman’s secret identity. That’ll do.

Surely, Batman being betrayed by his very own kid would be a killer.

Too bad there was junk in the basement. A few crumbled down bricks that did better striking it in the arms, and then a rusty old pipe that looked just peachy when it swung down, casting up sprays of blood. Joker began to giggle. Everything seemed just right, as long as he could keep moving, stop thinking, stop hearing that whiny kid’s voice telling him that he trusted Batman, that Batman would come save him, that Batman loved him.

Loved him?

But the pipe broke, and so he kicked it into the wall. There was silence, for a long moment; Joker staring straight ahead, fists clenched, mouth turned down, and the kid staring back at him behind his mask. It just. It just wasn’t funny.

So he felt around in his pockets and took out a switchblade. Maybe, just maybe, if he could get a spark of real terror, it would be enough to… keep this from spiraling out of control. Make something make sense again.

He didn’t actually mean to kill him.

He didn’t think he meant to kill him.

But Harley seemed to think he did, and Harley knew him better than anybody (except Batman), didn’t she?

“Killing a kid? Torturing him like this… oh my god… what were you thinking. What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t going to kill him,” Joker said, doubtfully. She had him up against the wall. Had grabbed the switchblade from his hand, pushed him back so hard it sent a slam of pain through his back up to his shoulderblades.

“Yeah? You weren’t going to kill him?” Harley shouted. “That’s not what you said a minute ago.”

“Well, I…” Joker hedged.

“Why? Why’d you do it? Why’d you hurt him?”

“I just wanted to know Batman’s secret identity,” Joker mumbled, into his shirt. That was reasonable, wasn’t it? He knew how to be reasonable. He was good at that.

“Oh yeah? Oh, oh of course. Batman. It’s always been Batman with you, huh? But I don’t think you wanted to know what’s under the mask, heck no; you coulda just taken off the kid’s mask and done the math. It’s something else isn’t it,” Harley said. “Answer me!”

Joker’s eyes slip-slid around the dingy basement, his gaze getting caught on Harley’s shadow spinning around the wall. She didn’t usually yell at him like this. Actually… she never yelled at him like this. Not like this.

The sinking feeling got bigger. The adrenaline surge pulling back like a fist, leaving him shaking.

“Jack!” she said, eyes narrowed.

He blinked at her once, resentfully. “There’s no need to bring him into this, my dear.”

She actually slapped him then. Keeping the switchblade in her other hand.

“Damn you, Joker, you didn’t want to know his identity. Tell me what you want.”

“I just…”

“You were jealous of him, weren’t you?” Harley spat. “Oh yeah, no one can be closer to the Bat than you are, right? Come on, tell me I’m right!”

“So what if you are?” Joker hissed. “We had a deal, Bats and I. An understanding. And now he wants to bring in outsiders…” he brought his hands up, slowly, to Harley’s wrists, slowly pushed her off him, talking all the while. “This Robin. What does he have that I don’t? Is it the shorts?”

Harley stepped back, chest heaving; he could see the tears glittering in her eyes, which were wide and dark. “I don’t know you anymore,” she said. She stepped back again, and again, holding the bloody blade in front of her like she was warding him off with it. She stepped backward up the stairs, staring him down all the while.

And then she was gone.

Joker looked around. “That’s it?” He laughed a little, clutching his stomach. “Ha-ha-HAHAHA—heh. Oh kid, that’s a good one, ain’t it. She didn’t even bother to free you.”

He sat down, unable to keep on his feet any longer, wiping his eyes, which had begun to tear from laughter. “Ahh. Where were we? I think you were about to tell me something…”

The kid stared back, looking lost. Some weight seemed to have settled on his shoulders, the world seemed to drift in soft-focus. Then Robin blinked, and a tear slid down his cheek. He cried, and Joker laughed; wishing that he couldn’t feel the tears on his own skin.

What a joke!

“I wish…” Robin croaked, at last.

“That you were rescued?” Joker said. “Join the club! I wish that every day but it doesn’t change a thing does it?”

“I wish…” Robin repeated, his mouth a flat line.

Joker stopped laughing, and murmured, “that I would go to hell? I’d wish that if I were you.”

“I wish that I’d never met Bruce Wayne,” Robin said.

Joker’s mouth parted. “Huh?” He got up, sidling back toward the kid, who flinched as he came near. “I’m sorry, did you say Bruce Wayne? Batman is Bruce Wayne? That’s … actually that makes sense. Okay.”

“So kill me, then,” the kid spat. “Get it over with.”

The kid. What was his name? That little thing that Brucie had adopted recently. A-ha. “Jason Todd. That’s you, isn’t it.”

No answer, but Joker knew he was right.

“Ah… ahh. Well. I have what I want. Why should I kill you? No, I’m letting you go. Crawl back to daddy, why should I care?” He untied the ropes with a vicious jerk.

Suddenly Jason laughed harshly, almost choking on it. “Go back?” he said, wildly. “After I gave him up like this, betrayed him to you? How can I? He’d never trust me again.”

“I do see how that would be a problem,” Joker said, holding the coils of rope in his hand. “Listen… kid… why don’t you solve both our problems, and… just leave.”

Robin stood up, and stumbled; Joker caught his arm and had to duck from a swinging punch. “Hey now, I’m not trying to hurt you anymore.”

“What do you mean, just leave,” Jason said, thickly.

They staggered up the creaking staircase like two drunks, clutching at each other for balance.

“Just leave! Start a new life. It wouldn’t be hard. Here, I’ll even give you money.” Joker pulled a briefcase from the corner, threw in a bunch of his own clothes and three rolls of cash. “And I’ll never bother you again. It’ll be like you’re dead.”

Jason stared down at the briefcase, holding onto the lip of the door for support. His eyes were wide, and scared.

“It’s not like you have anything to lose,” Joker wheedled.

Jason grabbed the briefcase.

“If I see you again, clown…” he said. “I’ll kill you.”

“I’ll look forward to it!” Joker said, with a bright smile. He handed Jason his coat.

Jason stared at it for a long moment, the thick purple weight of it, then off into the dark emptiness of Gotham’s streets. He looked back down at his blood-splattered costume and the bruises blossoming across his arms and legs, and took the coat, wrapping it around himself.

He left without looking back.

Joker sagged. He went into the bathroom, got a bucket and a mop; cleaned up the bloodstains on the steps in a daze, plunging the mop into the soapy water as though he were punching Batman on his pointy-eared head, following the trail back down the stairs, into the basement.

How did it get this real? he thought, staring at the blood as he plunged the mop down and watched the bubbles pop and disappear, spiraling the water across the dirty floor.

It was supposed to be a game, he thought.

I’m not The Joker, he thought. That’s just a publicity stunt.

He wrung out the mop, mechanically.

I wouldn’t really torture and kill a kid, would I? he thought.

He started laughing, grabbing onto the mop until it fell, until he tripped over the bucket and sent its contents flying out across the floor. And that’s where he lay, with soapy, pink water soaking into the back of his shirt and trousers, staring at the bare bulb. I’m Jack Napier, he thought. Just a kid from the country who they told to play a Supervillain.

But I did a good job, didn’t I?

No one could have done a better one!

on ao3

#batman: white knight #batjokes #batman the animated series #jxhq #joker #my stuff #my fic

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athingthatwantsvirginia · 5 years ago

Text

Everything Joan Didion Promised

PART TWENTY-TWO OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: a lil angsty, plentiful pop culture references, mentions of divorce/family issues

Word Count: 5.1K

Summary: When Jess returns to Stars Hollow to retrieve his car, Ella tries to keep him from getting hypothermia. Later, they cross paths at the annual firelight festival.

Refilling the shakers, Ella nodded at Sheriff Cooper as he waltzed into the diner. The local law enforcement came in at all hours of the day for coffee and free donuts, though it wasn’t like they had boatloads to do in a town as sleepy as Stars Hollow. She didn’t bother to eavesdrop on the conversation until she was behind the counter again, putting the salt and pepper back where it belonged. Coop was sliding a slip of paper across to Luke, who stood by the register. Glancing over, she recognized the handwriting immediately. After all, it was all over her books.

“Is that Jess’s registration?” she asked, leaning in near Luke.

Luke sighed, casting a wary glance in her direction. “Yes.”

“They found his car? Jeez, it took them long enough,” she said off-handedly, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“Hey! It only took us a day, young lady,” Coop chimed in, face sullen below the bill of his leather hat. “Not too hard with a hunk of junk like that.”

Brows furrowed, Ella turned back to Luke and tilted her head at him in askance.

Groaning and rolling his eyes, Luke looked over at her again. “It was in my dad’s old garage. I went to check on it this morning and the lock was busted off.”

“You stole his car?” Ella crossed her arms over her chest, taking a step back and straightening up. When Luke didn’t respond, Ella scoffed and shook her head to herself.

“Look, Ella, if he didn’t have a car, maybe he wouldn’t keep going to Walmart,” Luke explained, his voice a grumble under his breath.

“Hm,” Ella hummed, nodding doubtfully.

He was about to continue when strong yellow lights began flashing through the window to the right. A sheriff’s car preceded a tow truck with Jess’s rusty Ambassador hooked onto the back. Coop said the car had broken down on the Expressway a couple hours earlier, and Jess had immediately been picked up. Luke instructed Ella to hold down the fort while he went out to deal with the situation, the precession parking right out in front of the diner.

And as she began closing up, cashing out the final customers and wiping down the counters, she couldn’t keep her distracted gaze off of the scene through the window. She couldn’t hear what Jess and Luke were shouting at each other, but she could gather it wasn’t a pleasant conversation. A knot of nerves sat in her stomach, watching from the corner of her eye. Luke eventually stomped back into the diner, and Ella saw Jess collapse into the back seat of his rust bucket across the street. She tried to ask Luke what had happened, but he shut her down instantly. The rest of the shift was spent in tense, anxious silence.

. . .

A bright half moon shone in the late February sky as Ella left the dark diner and locked up. She could see her breath in whitish clouds as she stalled in her path at the bottom of the concrete steps. Flexing her hands in the pockets of her peacoat, she bit the inside of her cheek and furrowed her brows. Either she could leave Jess where he was, curled up in the backseat of his death trap on wheels, and turn down the street to the little blue house, or go up and to him and face the music. Turning on the heel of her boot, she almost ignored him. Almost. Though she spoke to him every now and again over the phone, seeing him in person was a whole different matter. Just the sight of him made her heart twist in her chest. But then a huge gust of wind came, blowing her hair back and making frosty roses form on her freckled cheeks. Emitting an audible growl in the empty street, she shook her head to herself and marched to the car which held so many memories.

She knocked twice, hard, on the back window with frozen knuckles.

Jess’s figure shifted only slightly in the seat. “Go away,” he groaned.

Ella rolled her eyes. “It’s me, jackass!”

Huffing out a frustrated breath, Jess finally sat up and cranked down his window. “What?”

“I almost forgot how much more charming you are in-person,” she quipped.

“G’night,” Jess shot back ruefully, making to roll his window back up.

Ella put her hand on the glass to stop him, sighing out another cloud of condensation. “Look, Luke is back with Nicole again-”

Jess scoffed.

“Yeah, I don’t know, either,” she muttered. “But he’s spending the night at their place in Litchfield, so I doubt you’ll be able to get up to the apartment without breaking in, and that’ll likely cause more problems than it solves-”

“Like I need Luke’s help,” he interjected petulantly.

“Just let me finish,” she snapped. “It’s gonna drop to like eight degrees out here, and neither of us wants you getting hypothermia, so just come stay with me for the night.”

Brows furrowing, Jess couldn’t hide the utter surprise which appeared on his face. The ice between them was slowly melting, sure, but he never figured she would be forgiving enough to offer something like that. “Very funny, Stevens. I’m tired, alright?”

“Jesus, Jess, I’m not joking!”

“What about your dad?” Jess asked, his voice flat, though his eyes were calculating.

She only shrugged. “Well, from what I remember, you have a talent for sneaking around my house. Your skills might be a little rusty, but I’m not gonna sweat it.”

Slowly, very slowly, Jess nodded and got out of the backseat, sheepish. His joints cracked as he straightened up again, stiff from two hours lying motionless in the cold. Appraising him, Ella couldn’t help but grimace. He had dark circles under his eyes, skin paler than usual. And the black beanie he wore certainly didn’t suit him.

“The prodigal son, indeed,” she said, eyebrows raised.

His mouth was set in a thin line, unamused. “Are we going, or not?”

. . .

Humming. Jess had almost forgotten about the humming. Most of the time, Ella didn’t even realize she was doing it. At the diner, over homework. Anytime she wasn’t acutely focused on something, her mind wandered back to whatever music was striking her fancy at the moment. Standing awkwardly, with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, Jess had yet to even unzip the leather jacket he was wearing or shed any layers. He’d never felt so uncomfortable in her room before, not even the first time he’d come, before they were dating, when he’d discovered how good she was at cards. He watched her rifling through the drawers of her old dresser, humming some Elliot Smith song he couldn’t quite place the title of.

She turned back to him with clothes in her hands, tossing them onto the mattress by which Jess stood before she started making for the door. “You get to wear the famous KISS t-shirt tonight, my friend.”

“C’mon, Elle-” he began, his voice a sigh.

“You should be honored, Jess. Besides, it’s the biggest t-shirt I have. And those sweatpants were Noah’s. Should fit you. I’m gonna go brush my teeth and change and stuff. Make yourself at home,” she said casually, as though there weren’t so many unspoken words hanging in the air between them.

He shook his head, looking down at his beat-up shoes. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Believe me, I’ll sleep better knowing you’re not freezing to death in your back seat,” she replied.

Turning and shutting the door softly behind her, Ella left before Jess could say anything else. Looking around, things were much the same, save for the walls. He remembered painting the white color on them, right before everything had gone to hell. He remembered waking up in the room so many times, rushing out before Luke would notice he was gone, planting a final kiss on her sleepy face before he went. He’d always woken up before her. Nervous that she may come back before he was finished, Jess stripped off his dirty clothes as quickly as he could, leaving them in a small pile near the window through which he had just climbed. He pulled on the sweatpants and hesitated a moment before tugging the shirt over his head. He’d seen her wearing it in the early light of the morning, or late at night when they sat up together, him reading and her drawing.

The corkboard over her desk was covered in new sketches, and he saw some in charcoal. He turned away, eyes meeting the purple mural behind the mattress. The sight of it made him smile. She was even more talented than when he had left, if it was possible. A soft creak sounded in the room, and he turned expecting to find Ella. Instead, a large, black cat with one eye missing and a curmudgeonly expression on its face came in, hopping up onto the bare surface of the desk and curling up into a ball. Quirking a brow, Jess stared at the cat, who Ella had told him was named Fleetwood. Shocking.

Ella snorted a laugh when she came back in, now dressed in a flannel shirt and some leggings, makeup washed off and hair loose down her back. “Hm. You’ve finally met the ghost which haunts the Stevens house. He got pissed because I opened the dryer.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah, he’s great.”

“Sounds like it.”

Blowing out a long breath, she switched off her overhead light and approached the bed. The clock read almost midnight, and her eyes were achy with fatigue. Collapsing onto the mattress and burrowing under her blankets, she went to turn out the bedside lamp but hesitated when she saw Jess still standing rigidly at the end of the bed, debating whether to sleep on her old carpet.

“Jess, you can lay down if you want. Not like we haven’t slept in the same bed before,” she said, voice calm though her heart was beating against her ribs. “I mean, if you wanna sleep in the same bed...Woah, that was presumptuous of me. I’m sorry, I-”

Jess cut her off with a chuckle. “It’s fine, Stevens. I just...wanted to make sure.”

Nodding, she shut the lamp off and felt the mattress dip next to her as Jess got under the covers and laid on his side, facing the wall. She didn’t know how long they spent, backs to each other, in stale silence. It was strange, how similar it felt to so many other nights together. But so utterly different, too. His hair was longer, with less gel than ever. She wondered how else California had changed him, in ways she couldn’t see. Taking in a long breath, Ella squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before turning over to face his back and hoping she didn’t regret speaking.

“Jess?”

“Yeah?”

“How’d you know about your car? I mean...I didn’t even know about that. And Luke rants to me pretty much every day.”

There was another long silence before Jess heaved a huge sigh. Ella could see the outline of his shoulders move beneath the white fabric of the worn shirt in the dim light. As he flipped over on his side, they looked each other in the eyes for the first time in what felt like years.

“My mom told me about it.”

“Your mom?” Ella’s brow crinkled.

Jess breathed another sigh. “Yeah, I’ve been keepin’ in touch with her since I got back to New York. She came to see Luke at the diner this morning. Weren’t you there?”

“I don’t live there. I was in class.”

He scoffed. “Geek.”

“Whatever, jackass. You and your back pocket books,” she said, rolling her eyes. “So...you and your mom are…?”

“Well, we’re not gonna be doing any mother-son talent shows together any time soon, but at least she told me where my property was.”

Nodding, she hummed quietly in acknowledgement. “I really didn’t know he had the car, Jess. I would’ve said something.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

Then, after a moment: “I don’t know. She and I...at least I don’t have to live with her and her endless string of suitors. She’s got a new one, y’know.”

“Hm.”

“Yeah, I don’t even remember what his name is. She might’ve told me, but, at this point, it’s a waste of time thinking they’ll stick around longer than a week,” Jess said. He chewed on his bottom lip.

“What about your dad?” she asked quietly, noticing how his gaze darted away from hers at the question. There was still some distance between them, but she could almost feel his breath on her face.

Jess took a moment before answering. “Well, he’s still out there in California and I’m here. That’s that.”

“Okay,” she said shortly, nodding again in understanding. Her eyes searched his face for anything more, but his expression was unreadable. “Did you like it out there, at least? Was it everything Joan Didion promised?”

He shifted slightly, hand going under the pillow on which his head rested, getting more comfortable. A hint of a smirk touched his lips. “Sort of. But, I do know one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You’d hate it there,” he told her, a smug expression growing.

She chuckled breathily. “Why?”

“It’s hot as hell, first off. There’s sand everywhere. And I know how you feel about oceans,” he said, shooting a pointed glance her way. “And it’s just full of these hippies, babbling about astrology and fate and all that bullshit. I don’t think you’d be able to stomach it for a day.”

“Oh, and you were able to weather it so much better?” she teased.

He shrugged. “Well, I worked at the bookstore on the boardwalk for a few months. Only a few crazies to deal with every shift.”

“Hm. I could see it. You sulking behind the counter, reading, while some flower child begs you for some help.”

“Hey, I did a great job,” he argued.

“Yeah, using those famous Jess Mariano customer service skills,” she said doubtfully, then stifled a yawn against the back of her hand.

“Tired?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Not really,” she lied. “I just had an eight o’clock this morning. Should be against the law.”

“Ah, yes. The joys of higher education,” Jess said with a quiet laugh, watching as she struggled to keep her eyes open.

She snickered, her speech growing more raspy with fatigue by the word. “It’s okay. Kind of interesting. Pretty boring here without Rory, though.”

“She’s at Yale, right?”

Ella nodded. “Living her dreams. Winning everyone over with those baby blues...Sorry. I sound fucking pathetic.”

Biting down on his lip again, Jess looked at her for a long moment. He didn’t realize how much he had missed her until he got a glimpse of her. He got her voice every once in a while, but not her face. Not her mind.

A blush spread over her cheeks at his gaze, and she suddenly regretted her words. She wanted to roll her eyes at herself. It was so childish to be jealous of Rory, but sometimes she couldn’t help it. And when Jess was around, she always found herself forgetting to keep it all locked up, letting things slip out. It certainly didn’t help that she was totally exhausted.

“Eleanor,” Jess said earnestly. “You’re not pathetic, alright? You’re a badass artist. Lily Briscoe. And, for the record, you’ve got Bette Davis eyes.”

“Bette Davis’s eyes were blue, Jess,” she said doubtfully.

“I don’t mean the color. Just the look,” he said, shrugging at her correction.

Ella snorted a suspicious laugh. “How the hell do you know that song anyway?”

“Not important. And you’re not gonna distract me. Don’t doubt yourself, Stevens,” Jess said, and for a minute Ella found herself enclosed in a memory. In a New York port authority, preparing to board a bus, Jess with a new drawing of the Hudson in his pocket. “Own your narrative.”

She swallowed down the pleasant swell of her heart. “Well, if I’m owning mine, you’ve gotta own yours. Have you started that book yet, Kerouac?”

He gave a thin, mocking smile. “The travelling kinda got in the way.”

“Well, I’m sure it gave you lots of material,” she murmured, eyes finally fluttering shut.

It only took a few minutes for her breathing to even out, slow and steady. Jess turned over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, the water spot Ella always said was shaped like a Zeppelin. Raking a hand through his hair anxiously, he shut his eyes and tried to fall asleep. But the lavender smell was too familiar, almost too comforting, as was the woman next to him.

. . .

Standing by the register, Ella tried to bite back a smirk as Luke argued with his sister. Liz was rounding up ingredients from down in the diner to bring upstairs. Her new boyfriend, TJ, he was called, was up in the apartment attempting some sort of lunch. Ella would have called the cops on him trying to get up in the apartment had Liz not been there to identify him. She had heard stories about Liz over the years, from both Luke and Jess. And though she had gleaned enough information to assume the woman was bizarre, she hadn’t expected the new age, peace-loving, crystal earring-making vibe she had. Especially considering some of the things Ella knew she had done to Jess, not the least of which was shipping him off because her boyfriend got into a fist fight with him. And TJ? Ella could only imagine the angry shade of red Luke’s face would turn when TJ asked him to guess what his initials stood for.

Checking her watch, she sighed softly when she saw it was only two in the afternoon. There was a lull after the lunch rush, and she’d cleaned up as well as she could for the time being. So, she would be left stagnant behind the counter while Stars Hollow lives rushed around her. And, though Caesar was in the back, he rarely came out to speak with her. He was busy with prep, and the new headphones he’d just gotten, to listen to his music on full volume during slow times.

A scowling Luke turned back to Ella as Liz marched up the stairs, arms full of food, and broke her out of her pitiful reverie. Her eyes widened slightly at his furious look.

“You let him up there?” Luke demanded.

“She’s your sister! What was I supposed to do? Get Coop out here to arrest her fiancé?” she asked, gesturing with her hands in exasperation.

“I don’t know! Just...you could’ve waited until I got back!”

Ella shook her head. “How was I supposed to know when you’d be back? You didn’t say anything! Y’know, if you’d just get a cell phone for these kinds of things like I’ve been telling you-”

“You don’t have a cellphone!”

“I don’t own a diner.”

Luke put his hand up and let out a weary sigh. “Enough. Fine. Just...is there any chance you could stage a horrible accident in the next two minutes? We’d have to take a long drive to the hospital.”

“I don’t think that would solve the core problem, boss,” she said.

Nodding, Luke went to ascend the stairs to a certain doom. “You’re right, kid. You’re right,” he admitted gruffly. “You okay down here for a while? Sure you don’t need any help?”

She smirked. “Think I can manage for the time being.”

He shot her a final glance, narrowing his eyes. “This would all be so much easier if you were a bad employee.”

“Can’t always get what you want,” she quipped, then turned as a customer approached. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t take the earrings she tried to bribe me with.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better in the slightest.”

Scoffing, she shook her head again as Luke disappeared behind the curtain. A smile formed on her face as she rang up the tourist family, and she even shot them a wave as they made their way out the door. Her breath caught in her throat, however, when she saw Jess’s head nearing the diner entrance through the front window. Immediately, she clutched at her necklace and bit the inside of her cheek. She’d awoken in the morning to find Jess gone, borrowed clothes folded and left on her desk. She’d taken pity on him. Swept up in the moment, in seeing him again, in seeing him shivering in the backseat of his car. But his side of the bed empty, without a word, brought a bad taste to her mouth. It was becoming familiar. She didn’t want it to become familiar. She didn’t want to admit how much his leaving had affected her, and maybe she didn’t truly feel it until she saw his face again. For just a moment, it felt easy and right. Like it had. Like home. But the morning was cruel and brought reality. She’d seen him pushing his car through town in the direction of Gypsy’s while she was on her way to work. His car would be fixed and he would be gone again. And she would be left behind.

Hoping to look busy, she took her notepad out of her apron, doodling mindlessly. The bell over the door jingled, and her heart sped up. Chewing on the eraser of her pencil, she made a pointed effort not to notice him right away.

Jess came up in front of her and tapped slightly on the counter. “Hey, Stevens.”

“Hi,” she replied, eyebrows raised. “You get your car to Gypsy’s? I saw the little parade this morning.”

Jess nodded and sighed softly. “Yeah. Not gonna be fixed until tonight.”

“Tragic,” she quipped flatly. “Are you gonna to go to the firelight festival to pass time, Mr. Model Citizen?”

“Is that what’s going on out there?” he asked with a frown, groaning dramatically.

“Same time every year, Mariano.”

“Just another Hallmark holiday,” he said.

Ella turned away, masking the twist of memory in her heart, to make a fresh pot of coffee. “Do you need something?”

Clearing his throat, Jess looked away from her and over to the checkered curtain. “Is Luke upstairs? I left a notebook I need up there.”

“A notebook?” she asked quizzically.

Jess ran a hand over his mouth. “Just got some things in it that I need.”

“Specific.”

“Aren’t I?”

She scoffed, then faced him again. “Well, Luke’s up there. Along with your mom and Prince Charming.”

“Fuck. You met him?”

“Oh, yes.”

“And?” he asked expectantly.

She snorted a laugh. “I really think you have to see it to believe it.”

Blowing out a long, tired breath, Jess walked towards the stairs. He stopped short when he made it to the curtain, tilting his head back to her with a questioning look. Messy hair, hands on her hips, pencil behind her ear. A vision from his past, making his stomach fill with butterflies every time he saw her. But her hazel gaze didn’t quite meet his own, off somewhere he couldn’t reach. Biting down on his lip hard, he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Are you okay, Eleanor?”

Nodding, she attempted a weak smile his way. “Always, Jess. Are you okay?”

“Yeah...yeah. I’m okay. Thank you...for last night.”

“You’re welcome.”

And then she heard his footfalls trudging up the creaky wooden stairs. Fiddling with her necklace, she swallowed down her thoughts and plastered on another grin as Lane bounced in, announcing she’d found the perfect house to rent with her band.

. . .

Other than old books and lavender, bonfire was one of Ella’s favorite smells. She had her ratty black peacoat draped around her small frame. Rory and Lane had convinced her to go to the festival, both of them with the night free. And she figured maybe some time away from her bedroom and the diner would clear her mind. Spaces which were so crowded with her memories. She would just have to wait until Jess was gone, and she would be connected with him only through the phone line again. She wouldn’t have to feel the way her heartbeat picked up every time she got near him, touched him. And the worst part was, the feeling wasn’t bad. She remembered it. She missed it. How relaxed he made her feel.

But, as soon as she’d spotted her father and Fiona walking hand-in-hand through the square, she’d retreated to the bench near the bookstore to draw. Rory and Lane tried to get her to join them for candied apples and popcorn, but she wasn’t hungry. And, besides, there were plans to meet up at the Gilmore house later for some movies anyway. She just needed a moment of quiet, to herself. Without being pulled in so many directions. Though her hands were shaking from the cold, she managed a sketch of Jess’s car, two ghosts in the front seat, all tires flat.

She saw his jacket before she saw his face, spotting the familiar black leather out of the corner of her eye as he sat down next to her. Neither of them said a word for a moment, the continuous buzz of town activity and the crackling of the bonfire filling their ears.

“I like it,” Jess said, looking over her shoulder at the drawing.

Ella blew a breath out her nose and stopped shading. Leaning back against the bench, she shot him a momentary glance before shifting her eyes out to town square. “You always say that.”

“And it’s always true.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she scoffed, shaking her head a little.

“I’m serious. Who wouldn’t love a drawing of their car which could inspire nightmares?” he asked, a smirk on his face.

Pursing her lips, Ella tore the page out of her sketchbook. She signed and dated it in the bottom corner and handed it over to him. “It’ll bring you more joy than it brings me, then.”

Taking the drawing, his teasing expression faded as he noticed the wistful quality to her eyes. The one he had seen earlier. “Thanks,” he muttered quietly.

“Though you weren’t coming to this?” she said, gesturing to the roaring fire in the middle of town.

“Me neither. Gypsy said she still needs about a half hour.” He glanced down at his watch for what felt like the millionth time in a day, then shoved his hands in his pockets.

“So, you’re actually gonna say goodbye this time?” she asked, finally looking over at him with earnest, eyebrows raised.

His gaze dropped to his shoes and he struggled for a moment to find words. But her eyes, looking at him in the light of the fire. They made him feel ways he couldn’t even articulate. “Look, Elle, I’m sorry. Luke freaked out on me when I told him about graduation-”

“Oh, yeah, and speaking of Luke,” she interrupted. “Did you get into a fight with him or something earlier? You stormed out and then he left like twenty minutes later. He was totally wasted. We had to close early for the festival and he still wasn’t back.”

Jess ran a hand over his mouth. “He was trying to make me say something to Liz about TJ. Get her to come to her senses. I tried to tell him it was useless, but he just wouldn’t hear me.”

She hummed in acknowledgement. “And you met TJ?”

“Unfortunately.”

“You think he’ll turn out like the others?” she asked, but there was less fire in her tone. There were so many words on the tip of her tongue, but she was tired. And her heart dropped into her stomach when she even thought of saying them.

Jess chuckled bitterly. “I know he will. He’ll take all her money, or drink all her booze, or...worse. And then it’ll be mine and Luke’s job to fix it. But, hey, where would we be without family?”

Ella smirked humorlessly at the thick sarcasm which laced his tone. “Yeah. Where?” Then, after a moment: “I think my dad and Fiona are gonna get a divorce.”

“Really?” he asked, but didn’t look surprised.

Though it wasn’t as if she felt shocked, either. “The whole new baby thing isn’t working out. I don’t know. I don’t think my dad cares either way, but that only makes her more angry. They scream and throw things at each other. The way he and my mom used to fight. And then Fiona apologizes and she tries to make him happy again. But it never makes any difference. He hasn’t been happy in years. Maybe never. But it’s not her fault. And I feel bad for her. But, right now, it just is.”

Jess nodded, listening. He noticed how she ran the key across the chain of her necklace, and a pang of nostalgia hit him.

“At least Adam likes high school. He’s already making waves in the science club, from what he tells me. Figures. And at least he gets along with my dad and Fiona way better than I ever have,” she said, shrugging her shoulders dismissively.

“At least,” Jess murmured sadly.

Ella managed a thin smile. “Makes sense. He doesn’t look exactly like her.”

Before Jess knew what he was doing, he took her free hand from where it clutched the metal of the bench and gave it a squeeze. For a moment, her cold hand was rigid and unmoving in his grasp. But, clearing her throat and looking down in surprise between them, she finally reciprocated. Gave his hand a squeeze back. Then, she flashed him another tiny smile, and disentangled her fingers. The moment had gone, and Ella hoped the chilly air would be able to cool the flush which rose on her cheeks at his touch. An awkward tension passed between the two of them, both at a loss for words. The town troubadour, strumming his old guitar near the entrance to the high school, suddenly caught Jess’s searching eye.

“This whole thing is meaningless and expensive,” he began, looking out over the many blue concession tents and the people with solo cups full of Founder’s Day punch, which tasted as close to gasoline as punch could. “But the music’s not completely terrible.”

Scoffing, Ella shook her head. “Too happy.”

A fond smile crossed over Jess’s face, the most genuine one she’d seen from him in quite a while. “Anyone ever tell you how unpredictable you are?”

“Shut up,” she replied, cracking a smile of her own.

#jess mariano fanfiction #jess mariano au #jess mariano imagines #jess mariano x oc #jess mariano x original character #original character stories #original character #jess #mariano #jess mariano #gilmore girls #gilmore girls au #gilmore girls fanfiction #gilmore girls imagines #luke danes

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koorinohebi · 4 years ago

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OC ABCs: Y1 through Y5, please!

1. How old were you when you created them?

Let's see. Oh wow, to be honest I had to do a bit of math here since I've had Kiomi for so long. SOOOOOO long. And guess what. Even I'm surprised to remember that I created her back when I was 13 years old. It's been what, 17 years since then. Man, time sure flies.

2. What inspired you to create them?

Often times my inspiration to create characters (either making an OC or taking up a canon) is due to friend influence. Kiomi was probably the only one that doesn't share that. Because I was relatively new to the Naruto fandom back when I first made her and I just wanted some interaction from people who played in the verse. (I didnt even know what canon was back in the day. Like, I had no idea that they were called that.) So I made a character with attributes that I liked, elements that I like, etc. while learning all about jutsus and stuff, and how the verse operated. I'm a bit rusty now specially since I've been on a very long Hiatus, but yeah. My inspiration for her came from the desire for interaction and story weaving. That's when I met my first friend in the verse, which just so happened to be an Orochimaru. They were very apprehensive and iffy about OCs but apparently, we were able to hit it off well enough that they were comfortable about interacting with my muse. So apart from just story building, my friend's Orochimaru was part of the inspiration, specially for the environment that she grew up in.

3. Were they different when they were first created?

Well, for starters she's less of a brat now than she was back then. She was so problematic when I first made her. She was so ridiculously rebellious to the point where she throws things at her lord when she becomes pissy and throws tantrums. (One thing hasn't changed though. If Kabuto tells her to behave, she behaves. xD) She's better at handling that now.

Her personality is fleshed out better too. Years of interaction with Muns and Muses alike have allowed me to explore her persona and characteristics. That enabled me to add the layers that were necessary to make her feel more organic.

Let me just say that I love Naruto movies and plotting with friends. Back when all I had was the fact that she's from Yukigakure and that her family was part of a genocide, I was wondering how to tie stuff into the verse more properly. Because of the history of the Kazahana's in the Land of Snow, the technical advancement the place had, I've been able to incorporate that knowledge into creating information for her clan.

Those are just some of the changes that's happened for my muse over the years, but I think my favorite part of the changes is the fact that she has some bonds now that are relatively real. Something that she believes is worth fighting form. Loss is a very big part of her character evolution. The more loss she experience, the more her personality shifts. She's always tethering along the threshold of wanting and protecting bonds, and not wanting to have anything to do with it.

I love the fact that she doesn't feel the desperation for a bond until it's there. Back then, she really wouldnt have given a crap. But now, when she experiences something genuine, she develops an eagerness to protect it. However, when it comes to bonds, the one thing that hasn't really changed is the fact that she'll try to avoid it as much as possible, until she realizes that she can't.

Kiomi's also actually pretty defiant. But I found that mellowing over the years too. When she realized how that gets her into too much trouble, she eventually toned it down. However, it's been replaced by her chronic lying-- which isn't too good a thing either. But the chronic lying is basically her defense mechanism now, because from the start she is bad at dealing with people. Being honest lands her in disadvantageous situations, so she resorted to lies. (She just doesn't know it yet, but that'll get her in bigger trouble. Dont tell her, okay? ^_~ ) Also, being a liar helps her interact better with strangers for intel gathering. When she's faced with strangers, you can bet your horses that the first thing she lies about is her affiliation with Otogakure, because she's learned that not a lot of people trusts shinobi from the Hidden Sound Village. So it's not too strange to see her pretending to be a civilian. It's also the reason why she's often without her hitai ate.

But you know what, Kiomi is inherently a good kid at the core. It’s just that she ended up growing up in an environment that didn’t allow for too much of that. This is why if you’ll notice in some of my threads, she’s actually quite nice to people in similar situations such as her.

4. do you enjoy writing them more than other characters?

I do, actually. Among all of my OCs, I have an attachment to Kiomi. It's probably because I've had her for so long that I can't get enough of her and her growth.

This has reached the point where, if ever I go RPing on another verse or when I return from a long Hiatus (like I have done as of recent) I always end up penning for Kiomi. It's not that I like my other muses any less, it's just my one brain cell has a tendency to pick what it likes and it does like this particular muse.

I'm surprised how well she can adapt to other verses as well, which makes it easier for me to integrate her in certain verses whenever I get a burnout for Naruto. For example, I've played her in Devil May Cry before wherein the two verses kind of semi-merged. It was fun. From shinobi, she casually just got a job in Devil May Cry for devil hunting, I got to make her her own Devil Arm, etc. I've played her in a Fate Stay Night setting where she's the master of the world's oldest bully and even if they dont get along very well, they're able to function as a master-servant team when the need arises. Otherwise she's Gil's personal mongrel. I think one of my favorite crossovers had to be in Magic The Gathering where she's an apprentice to Sorin Markov.

So yes, I do love writing for her, so much.

5. what’s your favorite thing about them?

My favorite thing about Kiomi is her personality. Specially now that I can play on the complication of her emotions.

The best thing that ever happened to her was the fact that she made bonds that she didn't want to lose while knowing for a fact that her the friends that she made belonged to the enemy side. That gave her a lot of things to think about. Decisions of whether she throws away years of loyalty for something new is something I enjoy playing out. Although eventually I know where she returns and whom she returns to, depending on how much she grows attached to the other muse and how willing both parties are to make it canon, that's the only time that it may change.

The good thing about the Next Gen setting is that Otogakure has better relations with Konoha...at least compared to when the entire Naruto series began. This allows Kiomi to have a little freedom in terms of socializing with the little friends that she actually made.

Love's an aspect that I want to explore, but yeaaah. That's hard for her because she dislikes the notion very much. Although I'm sure that if the right person comes along, the possibility of her opening up and feeling for the other person still exists. As much as there's an RP outside tumblr where she does love someone. I do have her as a mutli-ship so basically all bonds are different per verse.

One of my other favorite thing is that she works well with people she hates. It's really funny because I find that-- for starters, Kiomi dislikes Sasuke with a passion. This is pretty much a classic case of Genius vs Hard Work. Sasuke's pretty much a stark reminder of everything that she wants. He's chosen by Orochimaru, he's strong and talented, he's a cut above the rest, for sure. All her hard work gets blown out of the water along with her desire to be the vessel because a favorite exists. But above all, she's actually pretty jealous that he still has a family in the form of his brother. But yes, she hates him so much, but apparently whenever I roleplay with Sasuke's they seem to have certain areas for synergy. Mainly because Kiomi will prevent him from getting killed (that's her job). So she'll help him out, tend to his wounds, spar with him, etc. So there's a certain dynamic there which I enjoy. That's why, to be fairly honest, Sasuke interactions is probably one of my favorites because the rawness of Kiomi's feelings come out. And I really love the fact that I can make this hate canon so easily because she doesn’t need an initial validation from him. She can just hate him on her own until such a time when they meet. It’s great because the more he ignores her, the more she gets pissed off, the more she works harder. Even up to Next Gen, Sasuke’s still her goal, albeit with decreased animosity. *Cough*Frenemies Please*Cough*

( Here’s an ugly doodle from ten years ago.)

It's a freaking meme for me, but I love how she gets into a fight with every Katon user she meets. She didn't get Katon'd, sure, but her worst run in was probably with an Itachi who Tsukuyomi'd her. That was really fun to play out but stressful. They became associates after. xD

Also, her awful way of phrasing some things. Sometimes, when she has a hard time of expressing herself, she ends up blurting things that's easy to misinterpret. It's pretty funny, all the trouble it causes.

#|| Breaking the Ice || Answered #super-kame-love #I ended up gushing.#I'm sorry it so long.

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surohsopsisofclouds · 5 years ago

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I'm Gonna "For Science" It

“Did you see the art I just posted?” Creativity asked Curiosity, walking into the kitchen in time to see him walking out with a bottle of pop and a sleeve of -some kind?- of candy.

“I will have to look in a moment. I’m doing… things.” Curiosity replied shortly, speed walking towards his room.

“Well that’s not foreboding at all.” Creativity muttered to him- their? self. Louder, “Do- do I even want to know what ‘things’ is?”

Curiosity turned to face him, hand on his doorknob. “I don’t know, do you?”

Creativity jerked slightly for a moment, his right eye turning green as his left developed a red hue. Their voice turned into two separate ones, first one, then the other talking.

The first one, with a smoother tone, spoke first. “I- no.”

This was followed quickly by the second, which carried a slightly unhinged quality with it. “Yes! Let me taste the regret.”

The first one quickly corrected the second. “We couldn’t decide, but I don’t want to know.”

The second reaffirmed their previous statement eagerly. “Give it to me, I want the cursed knowledge!”

Curiosity blinked at this, his hands moving to open the bottle of coke before lifting it to his lips for a sip.

He was a bit unsure about how to proceed. Sure, Creativity had been talking in these two different voices for a while now, but they normally didn’t speak like this, acknowledging that they were two separate voices, two separate minds so casually. They generally tried to deny it was happening at all.

Well, he decided, giving his tie a tug as he continued to make use of his lack of a need for air, if they were going to accept that, at the very least subconsciously, far be it from Curiosity to stand in their way. He continued the conversation, seeking to keep them on this course of acceptance.

“I am going to see what happens if I guzzle a whole bottle of coke and then swallow at least five mentos.” He informed them calmly.

Their eyes widened, the first voice responding more quickly then the second.

“No!”

“Look it up first, maybe?”

After a pause, they continued in one voice. “We feel like it’d just give you bad stomach pain.”

“It is too late,” Curiosity replied, shaking the bottle slightly as he continued towards his room, the other side following him inside. “As I am already halfway through the coke.”

Creativity’s eyes lept towards the bottle at that, one of their hands twitching at their side in an aborted motion, before they were deflating, a sigh of acceptance leaving their lips. They moved over to the desk and sat in the chair there, one leg bouncing while the other swung in a steady movement of back, tap, and forth, tap.

“Welp.” The silkier tone started.

“Have fun suffering!” The crazed voice finished with a brief cackle.

Their eyes remained trained on Curiosity's face as he upended the bottle, chugging another quarter of its contents in one go. He coughed a bit after bringing it back down, choking on his laughter.

“My throat hurts and there are bubbles in my nose,” He began after he had caught his breath. “I must keep going.”

“Pfft, we told you.” Creativity began as one.

“Keep us updated on your-” the second voice began.

“Self-given!” The first interrupted.

“-torture!” The crazed one finished in delight.

Curiosity brought the bottle to his lips one final time, just managing to swallow the rest of it. When he spoke again, his voice had gotten rough and somewhat garbled, as though he’d just chugged a whole bottle of- oh wait. That’s exactly what he did. Gee, who could have foreseen that?

“I’m gona habe no acid reflex aftee thid!” Jeez, Creativity could just barely understand that.

“Why does this make us love you even more?” They muttered under their breath, before continuing loud enough for Curiosity to hear them.

“Pfft.” They began, the red eye seeming to glow slightly brighter than the green for a moment before they smacked their hand to their face, the smoother voice taking its turn on the voicebox. “Oh my stars Curiosity.”

This time the green eye took the spotlight, alongside the more manic of the two voices. “That’s gotta feel and taste really weird.”

Curiosity ignored them both, affectionately rolling his eyes but too far gone into the excitement of his experiment to pay much more mind to formulating a reply. “The coke is gone, mentos time.”

Creativity took this as a chance to fall into a conversation with themself, the two voices directing their comments at each other.

“This’ll go so well.” Red spoke first, prompting a reply from Green.

“You know, we probably should’ve stopped him.” He casually waved their hand through the air as he spoke, as though to emphasize his point.

As they said this, Curiosity swallowed two mentos in rapid succession, hardly chewing any more than necessary before they fell down his esophagus.

“You think either of us has enough impulse control for that?” Red retorted. “Besides, this is entertaining and relatively harmless.”

After Red said this, Curiosity managed to get another two down before his throat began to burn.

Creativity’s head shot towards Curiosity in time for him to clear his throat enough to start brokenly yelling, his voice hoarse and clearly scraped up, making them wince at the sound.

“Dead?” Green hesitantly asked.

“What the shit, what the shit, what the shit!” Was Curiosity’s sole reply.

“I think he’s dead.” Red responded.

“Cool, we get his tech.” Green said, a grin beginning to split their face.

This grin quickly slipped off when Red began to speak. “No! We don’t get his attention, then! Or his company!”

During this exchange, Curiosity rushed to the bathroom connected to his room, quickly filling a cup with water and forcing himself to slowly sip it until it was empty.

“Oh shit you right.” Green realized. “Hey,” he shouted, turning them towards the bathroom, which they had seen him run into a minute prior. “No dying yet, Curiosity! We like you too much. Just suffer.”

They waited another minute before speaking again together. “How much’re you suffering right now?”

Another minute passes. “Uh… Curiosity?”

Another. “You’re starting to worry us…”

Another. Just as they were about to get up and walk in there themselves, Curiosity walks out, holding a tissue to his nose as he sniffles slightly.

“Hh.” He begins, “my poor nose and esophagus.”

Red sighs. “Oh stars you’re ok.”

Green has them give a tight grin. “You had us worried!”

“Also,” they finished, “You knew that was coming.”

Curiosity coughs again and gives them the beginnings of a panicked look. “I sound like a rusty wrench Creativity! What did that do to my throat!?”

“Dumb shit, that’s what.” Green responds immediately.

“It’ll be fine,” Red reassures with a dismissive wave of their hand. “But, you’ll wanna take it easy on your throat for a few days. Eat marshmallows, they were originally made for sore throats.”

“And honey.” He adds after a pause. “That’ll coat your throat and let the scratches in it heal.”

“It’ll act like a bandaid!” Green adds excitedly.

“Ah, a gooey plaster.” Curiosity responds, tissue still pressed up to his nose even as he moves to his kitchen to make some tea. He was not willing to drink anything that sweet straight, thank you very much.

They shrug, standing up to follow him. “Pretty much.”

He frowned as he stretched up, reaching for the tea bags first, and then the honey. “It still hurts like ass. Why didn’t you stop me? Creativityyyyyyyyy.”

They rolled their eyes at him, grabbing the kettle and filling it with water before putting it on the stove, turning it on as they went.

“‘Cause neither of us have the impulse control,” Green replied.

“And we knew it wouldn’t do anything bad to you, ” Red continued.

“Just hurt!” Green added.

“So we decided to sit back and enjoy the show.” Red finished, them moving to lean against the kitchen island, their head held in their hands as a smug smile curled their lips like a cheshire cat’s.

“Ah,” Red began right as Curiosity opened his mouth.

“We’re doing.” Green followed.

“The twin-speak thing.” Red continued.

“This is fun.” They said together.

“Wh-” Curiosity starts, confused, but living up to his function.

“Difficult to speak,” Red starts.

“Though.” Green finishes

“And we did warn you first.” They say in unison, the two voices together sounding like a slightly echoed version of Creativity’s regular one.

Curiosity sighed, moving to pour the tea as the kettle began to shriek. “Fair. This one’s on me.”

“Yeah,” They agreed easily, grabbing the honey and squirting some into their cup. “But it was pretty funny to watch.”

He laughed at that. The two (three?) moved to his couch and sat down with their cups of tea. They spent the rest of the afternoon chatting, which would lead to Curiosity losing his voice for a few days, but he thought it was worth it to see Creativity smile.

#For Science #suroh writes #creativitwins #roman sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #food #pre-split #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #platonic lotivity #what's the ship name for these two?#queerplatonic lotivity #long post #comfort fics #I'm Gonna It

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couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name · 5 years ago

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- final footloose hell rehearsal was last night

- the opening of the show and the finale number...listen. they're terrible. they're past the point of being saved at this point

- the finale at least its like...they're enjoying themselves. the energy is there. it's a mess but they're kids having fun! It's cute, parents will love it

- but the opening...and by opening I mean footloose, on any sunday AND like three scenes before the next song....it's not great omfg

- the other songs are pretty good tho! So hopefully that'll save it lmao

- Rusty has,,,,,lost her voice

- Vi had a full panic attack onstage because she forgot the lyrics to her song and I had to go fix her mic afterwards and the whole time like her mom her friend and me were trying to talk her down omg I felt so bad for her!! She has such a pretty voice tho like honestly if she forgets during the show if she confidently sang absolute nonsense people would still applaud

- GOD when I got there the guy that works at the school was making trouble again and the director came up to me and said 'I'm gonna kill this man' IN FRONT OF HIM DJDNDJDKD SHE IS SO CLOSE TO SNAPPING I'M SCARED

- I had a migraine again and was so out of it I missed one of the curtain cues rip

- the sound guy left after act 1 to get an xray, and like- okay, he probably DID break his hand, which is a double problem because he can already barely use his hands in the first place, but- he showed up with what he knew was probably a break, then told me "I'm going to the emergency room because I don't feel like running act 2", verbatim, and then left without telling the director he was going....like could we be professional for a second I'm begging

- the kids decided it was Theme Song Night for mic check. one kid started singing the jeopardy theme song and a couple other kids in the line started doing the chorus line opening dance to it...theater kids are genuinely something else lmao

- Ariel dropped the bible into the patawney river

- Willard went up and down and all over the place during mama said and he has a really good voice but HONEY please pick one and stick with it

- the kid playing the reverend has been in a couple other shows I've worked and I think he has a bit of a stage fright situation because in the past I'd heard him singing backstage and it was so much stronger than actual rehearsals, but he'd always be great for the actual shows. But anyway all week he's been louder and stronger than I've ever heard him I was so proud and then last night the director like Made A Scene about his growth and I'm like oh so we're ALL stanning him huh

- the kid playing Chuck has a really good voice and he weirdly reminds me of Chris McCarrell but he's very fond of...dressing up the notes. getting fancy with them. and it's not bad but it gets to the point where I'm like....honey do you actually know the tune of the song

- I'm gonna start having nightmares about windscreens at some point I swear to God

- Dancing Is Not A Crime gets me cracking up every night because the cut A LOT out so it just ends so...abruptly it's so funny omg

- but overall....they mostly know the lines and cues? everyone sounds good? dancing is decent? idk guys we might have a show here

-fingers crossed for tomorrow lol

#footloose vagueblogging 2k19 #musicals #molly mumbles

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marvel-lucy · 5 years ago

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The Walking Disaster, chapter 6

This went a bit awry, it was supposed to feature a naked Steve thanks to @amandarosemire but that’ll have to wait until chapter 7 because, like the main character, I don’t know when to shut up. Sorry. Please note, gif is actually plot-relevant!

All chapters are on the Walking Disaster Masterlist

Sometimes you just have to own it. Hold your arms up to the universe and say ‘yes this is me. I’m the one who didn’t think to open her door and walk down the hall, but instead teetered along a rusty fire escape then fell face first through the window of my crush. Hi. Nice to meet you.’

It takes a moment to sink in, what he’s said. I gawp down at the keys in my hand, the window, and Steve’s face, as he struggles to catch his breath, then it hits, and I giggle, then I snigger, then I see Steve crack up again and I let out an undignified snort and lose it. It’s not even that funny but there are days when the stars align and something ridiculous becomes the thing that will make you laugh randomly in a library three months later when it pops into your head. This was one of those times.

Eventually of course, we get to the gasping stage, then the hiccupping stage, then the sort of awkward sigh, then we’re both sitting there on the floor. I’d like to say we then start talking, move in together, and have adorable children, but instead I stand up and smile.

‘So, thanks for letting me use your apartment. I won’t say it’s not a regular occurrence, locking myself out, but I promise not to climb through your window more than, say, once a week?’

‘Mi ventana es tu ventana.’ Oh, he speaks Spanish. Nope, that does make him at all 100% sexier, definitely not. Oh Dios mío…

I pick up my bag, and he kindly picks up my basket so I can open my door with my keys, trying to pretend I can’t see him grinning as I do. Once I’m inside my apartment, I sort of give him a wave, and start to shut the door, when he puts his arm out, and stops it.

‘Um, would you want to get a coffee later?’

I blink, completely stupefied. Mr Beautiful is asking the perfect storm of caffeine-tsunamis for a coffee?

‘Never mind, sorry, don’t worry…’ he backs away, cheeks flushed, and I realise I’ve paused too long.

‘No, wait, Steve. Yeah, that’d be nice. Just maybe bring an umbrella, just in case?’

If you saw the way his face lit up, you’d almost believe he really wants to spend time with me. Maybe he just needs me to sign some disclaimer before he uploads the video somewhere. He gives me a kind of thumbs up, says ‘half an hour?’ and disappears back into his apartment.

I am not getting my hopes up. I am not. The fact I spend 15 minutes of the next half an hour sorting through my laundry for the right ‘it’s Sunday and I’ve made no effort, but I just look this cute anyway!’ outfit is irrelevant. It turns out I don’t own that anyway. I own work clothes (boring, corporate-y, need ironing) and non-work clothes (comfy, stretchy, probably also need ironing but don’t get it). I pick the least worst, and text Nat. Then I spend another 5 minutes trying to arrange my hair to cover my eyebrow, but in a sexy peekaboo way. What I manage is to look as if I’ve glued my bangs to my eyelid with hair gel. Because I have. Then I text Nat again. Then I spend another five minutes scrubbing my hair with a wash cloth to get the gel out, and then rubbing it with a towel so it does look wet, then combing it and praying. Then I text Nat. The last five minutes is spent putting my shoes on (the right feet), texting Nat, finding my purse (in the fridge), texting Nat, pacing up and down fanning myself so I don’t look red, texting Nat, and then opening the door to Steve’s knock, with my best casual ‘oh I’ve just been reading Dostoevsky for the last 30 minutes, how about you?’ nonchalant look. Nailed it. Then my phone beeps 12 times as Nat replies to all my texts. Too late to check now, I just have to hope that all her advice over the last ten years of friendship has sunk in.

I walk down the stairs with Steve, and try to remember what Nat’s said in the past. There was a lot of ‘be yourself, you’re great’ which is obviously no help. I remember ‘you’re lovely’ and ‘people like you because you’re funny and sweet’ and Jesus, has she never given me ANYthing I could use? Like, how to be her? Because that’s what I need now. I’ll just have to wing it.

We make that awkward conversation about the weather, and laundry and so on, on the walk. I want to say something funny about keys and windows and fire escapes, but I’m channeling Nat, all mysterious and sexy. I try raising one eyebrow in a knowing way, like she does, but then I remember that eyebrow is missing, so the effect is probably a little less than appealing. Then I try raising the other eyebrow, but as it turns out, I can’t get it to go up. Then I realise what I’m actually doing is randomly opening my eyes wide, and wrinkling my nose. Look you try it. Try raising one eyebrow if you can’t. See how you look. Now imagine the look on Steve’s face as he watches this. We haven’t even made it to the coffee shop and already I can see the regret in his eyes.

I try to pretend I’m just about to sneeze, and work on keeping my face very still, then realise I can’t remember what faces do normally. It’s like when you try and think about how much eye contact to make, it all goes wrong. You either stare, unblinking, or else you fixate on someone’s chin and they keep trying to duck their heads to meet your eyes… you know… don’t you? Anyway, by now conversation has died out completely and I can’t remember how faces work. So it’s kind of inevitable when Steve and I reach the coffee shop that he looks at me a bit strangely.

‘Um, are you OK? If you don’t want a coffee, you can just say, I’m just… not sure what your expressions mean…’ I sigh. I need Nat’s advice before I screw this up.

‘No, I do want to be here. I was trying to raise one eyebrow in an intriguing manner, but I couldn’t, so I tried the other, but then I realised I was being weird, and then I forgot what faces were supposed to do…’ I tail off. This is not helping me look normal.

‘Oh like when you forget how much eye contact to make?’

‘YES!’ I feel my shoulders, and my frozen face, relax. ‘Yes, Nat thought I was weird when I said I couldn’t remember, but it’s not just me!’ Steve’s face relaxes too, now he realises I’m not ‘wish I wasn’t here weird’ but just regular weird.

‘Yeah, I once screwed up a job interview because I was so intent on not staring, that I forgot to make any eye contact, and instead spoke entirely to a spot over the interviewer’s shoulder. She kept turning around to look, and I may have convinced her that her office was haunted…’

Oh god, can this man be any more perfect? This kinda breaks the ice, I have to admit. Can it be that Captain Fantastic is… a bit weird?

He takes my coffee order, and joins the line, so I go and grab a table, and use the opportunity to read Nat’s texts.

Me: Help, Steve’s asked me out for coffee after I crawled through his window (don’t ask) and how can I be cool and sexy like you so he falls for me? Go!

Nat: You crawled through his window?

Nat: Just be you! He wouldn’t have asked you for coffee if he didn’t like you

Nat: Just don’t tell him weird medical stories. Save that for date 2

Nat: Because this is date 1. Fact

Nat: Bucky agrees

Nat: I’m with Bucky. He says Steve asking someone for coffee is A BIG DEAL

Nat: Don’t try and be me. You’re great

Nat: Bucky says I’m great

Nat: I have SO much to tell you

Nat: Bucky says I can’t tell you. I’ll kill him first then tell you

Nat: Anyway, gotta go. Stuff to do. By stuff I mean Bucky

Nat: BE YOURSELF. You’re a gorgeous lovely person. Love ya

Fat lot of use that is. I mean, Steve asking me for coffee being a big deal is kinda cute and I can feel my insides go a little smushy, but basically what I get from this is Nat’s too busy canoodling to help out. ‘Be yourself’. Pfft. Thanks a bunch.

A coffee appears on the table, and I look up to see Steve sitting opposite me.

‘Everything OK?’

‘Yeah, Nat. She’s with Bucky?’

Oh god, please don’t let her ask me loads of questions about Bucky. Let me pretend for an hour that she’s not interested in him, please?

‘Ah yeah, I got a bunch of texts from him last night extolling her virtues. I told him I’d block his number if he carried on. You known her long?’

Oh god, please don’t let him be another one of those guys who wants to get to know me, to get to know Nat. Let me pretend for an hour that he’s not interested in her, please?

‘Ten years. Since uni.’ I keep it short, I don’t want to be drawn into a conversation about Nat’s favourite things and where she likes to hang out and could I just put in a good word? Apparently some days I walk around with a Nat Signal shining out of me. Ha. Nat Signal. Get it? There’s a bit of a pause in our conversation and for a moment I wonder if I said that out loud.

Steve takes a sip of his iced coffee, and I take a sip of my hot coffee. Carefully. Then lower it down to the table with extreme precision. When the cup is safely down, I give myself a little nod of approval, and look up to see Steve grinning. He mimes giving me a round of applause, and I bow. I feel so… happy.

‘So is there a reason you were trying to raise an eyebrow intriguingly? I’m intrigued.’

‘Ah, well this is where I should come up with something cute and also convincing to say, but to be honest, my brain doesn’t work that fast, and I’ll only come up with something an hour later, which is apparently called l’esprit de l’escalier in French, which means something like coming up with a witty reply half way down the stairs, and anyway, I’ve been talking this whole time to try and give my brain time to come up with something but ‘ve got nothing but the truth, so I’ll go with that, which is that I was trying to be as cool as Nat is, and she does this thing with her eyebrow that makes her look mysterious even when it really just means she wasn’t listening, but apparently my face doesn’t do that. So there’s that.’

Too much? Possibly.

‘Trepverter’

I look blank.

‘Trepverter. Staircase words. Yiddish for the same as that French you said. But… why were you trying to look like Nat?’

‘Ah.’ I take a sip of my coffee again and encourage my brain to run up and down some stairs to come up with a convincing reply. Shuffle around in my chair a bit. ‘Would you believe me if I said I was auditioning for a community theatre role as… Nat.’ He raises his eyebrow sarcastically.

‘Oh great, so you can do it too!’ I point, then contort my face in an attempt to copy it, but my brows are still firmly set. At least I won’t need botox when I’m older since apparently my face doesn’t move.

‘So?’ Damn, I thought he’d forgotten. I sigh.

‘Nat’s so cool. Everyone likes her, she’s all enigmatic and serene. I was just trying to be a bit more like her, so you’d like me.’ Those last three words are said into my coffee cup, quietly, in the hope they’re not noticed. Between the mumbling into cappuccino, and the woosh of the coffee shop, I might get away with it. I risk a look up, over the rim of my cup which is still held up to my face. Steve’s looking puzzled.

‘But I d…’

It’s possible he was going to say ‘I do like you’. It’s not that out there right? I mean, it could have been ‘but I don’t like you’, sure. It could have been ‘but I dance flamenco on Tuesdays’ or ‘but I do fondue’ but he could have been going to say he liked me. But the man sitting at the table behind me took that moment to stand up. He shoved his chair back a little too vigorously, which hit the back of my chair, which knocked me forwards, which threw my cup of coffee – please note, not just the coffee, but the cup - across the table, which hit Steve full force in the nose. His voice stopped and the cup clattered to the table, and coffee dripped slowly down his shirt as a red line swelled across his nose.

And that’s the story of why I’m never drinking coffee again. Because 2 out of 2 times, it’s not ended well for me and Steve. 100% failure rate.

Like I say, Starbucks employees are really nice at giving you ice for your injuries. So we walk back to the apartment, with Steve clutching a bag of ice to his nose and I say sorry in every way I can think of but he’s really quiet and I’ve completely arsed it up again, haven’t I?

She wants me to like her? Why would she want me to like her if she likes Bucky? Does she want me to put in a good word? Wait, what if… no… she can’t like me? Crap, my nose really hurts…

---

@melconnor2007 @avengerscompound @kittyslove @badassbaker@phoenix21love @lbouvet @bellenuit45 @prplprincez @gingerrootknits@pineapplebooboo @feelmyroarrrr @avengerofyourheart @eyeofdionysus @hellomissmabel @learisa @mitra-k-w @imhereforbvcky @shaddixlife @supernatural-girl97 @iwillbeinmynest @amrita31199 @algud @whatsbetterthanfantasy @pixierox101 @edward-lover18 @madcheshire89 @heartfulloffandoms @chipilerendi @kenya-17 @mckorni32843 @amandarosemire @rda89 @nyxveracity @sea040561 @mrsalh32611 @ruinerofcheese @callmebucky-doll @vintagepigeon @bubbasmom @sassycanoodler @ladylorelitany @natcad @thisismysecrethappyplace @geeksareunique @mywinterwolf @moderapoppins @rinthehufflepuff @holyfuckloueh @onebatch--twobatch @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @patzammit @procrastinatingart1st

#bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x ofc #marvel au #marvel fanfic

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fuckyeahscienceparty · 5 years ago

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more retirement hcs bc (surprise surprise) i'm still a sap

-when your contract at mann co ends and you don't renew it, they always manage to completely clear your name of any wrongdoings through any means necessary in return for whatever services you provided them so thanks to that, they've been able to live fairly normal lives

-well as normal as you can get for two madmen with a love for each other, their pets, and defying god to their face

-not saying they do anything Crazy over the top anymore but let's just say there's only one grocery store in town they haven't been banned from

-medic is really into shitty rom coms. engie is really not.

-he'll still watch em tho even if he thinks they're really bad bc they seem to make medic happy

-in return medic watches crime dramas with engie, even though they're really just not his thing

-they got medic his own guitar and engie teaches him how to play!

-he's not really used to it but he's trying his best!

-engie, however, goes nowhere near medic's violin or piano. he's legitimately worried he'd mess up and break them

-medic's still teaching engie german. he's not great at pronounciation but he's fluent enough to be comfortable talking to other people

-because of this medic starts speaking in german more since the main reason he stopped was that no one could understand him

-engie actually knows and is fluent in five different languages! english, spanish, french, german, and tagalog

-(actually the only reason he knows tagalog is because at their house in california, they live in a predmoniantly filipino area and having already known spanish, it made learning it a lot easier)

-medic knows german, english, and asl! he's a bit rusty at the latter though

-they've hung all of engie's (now 13) phds in the book room, as well as the crayon, glitter, and construction paper medical license pyro made medic when they were still at mann co

-pyro and scout stayed at mann co longer than everyone actually, since they were both younger when they joined

-they both, on occasion, still send medic and engie drawings that they make for them, usually around the hollidays. the fridge is covered in them

-when the whole team gets together, the two of them also tend to talk about their new teammates and how they thought they weren't as good as them

-it is still unknown whether or not this was flattery or them telling the truth

-engie originally bought a set of those word magnets so he and medic could remember what chores needed to be done the next day

-medic took to writing funny little jokes and storries with them instead and engie though they were so amusing that when chores are done, he let's medic go wild with em whenever they don't have much to do

-they have a garden at both their houses in texas and california! it's mostly flowers but there's usually a few vegetables

-medic goes to germany for about a week every two years! sometimes engie goes with him, sometimes he doesn't

-he doesn't do much while he's there, just relaxes, enjoys foods he misses, brings back a bunch of german snacks that aren't easily accessible in the states, and maybe visits his parents' graves if he has time

-(medic had an. odd relationship w his parents so that's why grave visiting is usual out of the schedule)

-if engie comes with him they usually have lil robots that'll take care of parker and the birds while they're away

-parker loves both engie and medic a whole lot but she takes a liking to engie and will usually listen to him more than medic

-(admittedly she doesn't get into a lot of trouble in the first place but thanks to the birds she's definitely capable of being a little mischevious)

-parker has her own bed but she usually just sleeps at the end of engie and medic's

-engie's ma is still alive! she and his dad had engie pretty young so she's only around 20 years older than he is

-she's still very capable of herself. she's also a part time auto mechanic who works from home!

-engie visits her every few weeks to catch up and also brings flowers from their garden when they have em

-the birds sometimes have the tendency to flock on and around medic when he's home and truth be told engie sometimes gets spooked by it

-listen, you try waking up to your husband in the kicthen making eggs at two in the morning while one bird sits on his head, eight others on his arms and shouders, and the rest of them on either the table or the counter when you're just trying to get a glass of water and see how you like it

#tf2 #tf2 medic #tf2 engineer #tf2 science party #medic x engineer #txt #personal headcanons #Mayhaps there will be a part three #we shall see

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yyh-revival · 6 years ago

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What are your headcanons on Kuronue? /how do you characterize him?

Ah, Kuronue, the fandom’s favorite sweetheart that has an actual screen time of like 3 seconds. We all agree that he’s Yoko’s boyfriend, right? Like, that’s canon, isn’t it? Or fandom canon, at least? I’m a bit rusty on this movie (Last time I saw it was the abridged version Lanipator did on youtube… it’s pretty funny even if its a million years old)

So you guys probably guess I’m a slut for canon so let’s start off analyzing this shit from what we can actually deduce from the show.

Under cut!

So, the problem with Kuronue is that this awesome looking bat demon’s appearance was stolen by that shapeshifting demon, so most of the time we see “Kuronue,” we’re actually looking at a different demon.

There are only two ways we can judge his character then, by his 1 second of screen time and Kurama’s reaction to how the shapeshifter is acting.

For simplicity’s sake, I’ll go chronologically.

Remember that Kurama is extremely intelligent, so if he doesn’t pick up on this being a shapeshifter, then he’s playing Kuronue’s part pretty well.

So, Kurama gets attacked by this demon, who claims to be Kuronue, and his first reaction is to try to calm him down and talk to him. Which tells me 2 things. 1, Kuronue definitely could have a vindictive steak. If he was a super nice guy, Kurama would have called the demon out on his bullshit, saying something like “Kuronue wouldn’t act like this.” So our dear Kuro must have had some ability to be at least somewhat cruel (enough to want to get revenge on a now weakened Kurama by joining a group looking to kill a lot of innocent humans). And 2, he wasn’t too cruel or Kurama wouldn’t have even tried talking. With Yomi, he tried to steer clear of the whole “sorry I tried to kill you” thing for as long as possible, and even faced with the assassin, didn’t bring it up himself or try to apologize there and then. So Yomi is crueler, more likely to be hot-headed.

So two possibilities here. Either Kuro is the type of person who will go pretty far to get revenge when he feels he’s been slighted, but not nearly as cruel or vindictive as Yomi and Yoko. Or they were total fuck buddies with feelings and Kurama’s hoping that’ll get through to him enough that he’ll wait and listen. Or, a little bit of both.

So, the shapeshifter is using some memory manipulation crap? It’s not 100% clear but Kurama does this after their meeting:

So he’s either really fucking upset or his head is hurting for some reason, like maybe cause someone’s trying to fuck with it.

But! Here’s the thing. We Know Kurama’s head is hard to mess with. Whether the movie follows the canon of the show or not I am not 100% sure, (I mean, they do make up a whole new realm). But in the show, Kurama’s mind is incredibly well guarded. A literal mind reader can’t read his thoughts. So either this demon he’s facing is way stronger (in which case why bother with the disguise?), Kurama’s more susceptible because of the emotional connection (he wants to believe it’s Kuro), or the manipulation isn’t actually working and this is just Kurama’s actual emotional reaction.

So from Kurama, we can somewhat confidently assume that Kuronue isn’t cruel, but won’t take shit, either (so he was a nicer dude than Yoko, but perhaps not as nice as Kurama). We can also conclude that he wasn’t unreasonable, and could be talked down. And we also get hints that perhaps these two were very close.

___

So that’s how Kurama’s reacting. After that, we have only really 3 scenes we can analyze for the REAL Kuronue.

One.

Two.

Three.

So, let’s try to squeeze as much as we can from these frames.

1) We see Kuro laughing along with Yoko as they run away from a heist. They’ve been found, they’re being chased, but they have the treasure, and they’re laughing. Both of them are laughing, so Kuro couldn’t have been the “more careful” one, nor could he have been the “I’m so done” kind of boyfriend partner. He was just as into stealing shit and having fun as Yoko.

They sort of remind me of two college students who keep making chaotic neutral D&D characters. They’re not evil, they just want to have fun and fuck shit up.

2) We get this goddamn thing

in a shot as it’s cut off and Kuronue freaks out and tries to go back for it. So, there are 2 possibilities here.

Kuronue either really fucking loves this goddamn thing like, he’ll die for it, important. (As far as I can tell it’s just a pendant. Was it given to him by someone? Or was it just a regular pendant?) So depending on how important this thing is, we could judge how dumb he is here.

What’s heartbreaking is that we get these shots of Yoko:

So we can conclude a few things from Yoko’s reaction.

1) from that gif there, we see he immediately goes all “No don’t!”

So they KNOW what they’re doing is dangerous. They’re thrill seekers. They running high on the fact that they’re a hair away from death but they’re gonna make it, and gonna make it with some awesome treasure. But Kurama seems more aware of the danger than Kuro is. Yoko must know how important the pendant is to Kuro, as he’s not at all suspicious of how often the dude is fondling the thing

*fondle fondle*

But Kuro goes back for it, either thinking he has the time, or that it doesn’t matter if he does. Personally, I like to go with the “he’s a dumbass” headcanon, cause I like the idea that Kurama’s type for dudes is “loves the dark and is stupid.”

So Kuro isn’t as careful or aware as Yoko. Once again, college students come to mind. Perhaps two dudes doing drugs or drinking alcohol. Yoko has more experience or is just smarter with it, so he knows the limits. But Kuro thinks he can handle more or just isn’t thinking as clearly and gets fucked up and Yoko’s like oh fuck no, I did this I shouldn’t have brought this dumbass to this party.

Then 2) Yoko full on stops. He’s being chased, too, but he stops and stares for a good while. We get two different shots of him just watching in shock. So this tells me either this isn’t normal behavior for Kuro… and/or Yoko really liked that ass and is just super fucking shocked it’s gone. Or, also a possibility, Kuro is acting normal, but Yoko just can’t fuicking believe he just died for that goddamn pendnat wat the fuck kuro we talked about rthsi!!!

(deep breaths…)

Lastly, 3) Kuro yells for Yoko to run. He doesn’t just cry in pain or ask Yoko to save him, he sees that Yoko is frozen, and yells at him to run. This tells me 1), Kuro isn’t selfish. He could have tried to take Yoko down with him by accident, by asking him for help, or on purpose (which would make him more evil). But he doesn’t. This also once again screams “there’s something juicy here!!!”

______

SO! My conclusions?

Canon compliant/derived from canon: Kuro is

Sentimental (can’t let go of the pendant)

Willing to go great lengths for revenge… but is not evil or cruel in it.

Willing to listen to reason.

A little too quick to act

Not as careful/aware of his surroundings as Yoko

Thrill seeker

And relatively selfless when it comes to those he cares about.

Now for my personal headcanons:

He is a dumbass

That pendant was given to him by someone he cared for, either a family member or maybe even Yoko? Which I think would sweetly add to the tragic factor. If Yoko was the actual reason he died in the end, because he gave him the dumb thing…

The pendant has some small magical properties, which is why it was a worthy gift

He and Yoko totally fuck

He has a tendency to cut himself a lot hence the stupid black bandages

He doesn’t mind following cause it lets him be more of a dumbass if someone else is making the plans

he’s not really all that serious, he likely had a more comedic personality, which is why these two are laughing so freakin much, cause he brought out the fuckign happy light in yokos fuckign life and ghgjreg

So that’s my conclusion. Followers, any thoughts?

- Mod Lola

#yyh #yu yu hakusho #kuronue #yoko #kurama #yoko kurama #meta #analysis #headcanon #mod talk

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rason-rodd · 6 years ago

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SUP! Seeming as requests are open could I PRETTY PLEASE request a Jason X reader fic? Maybe it could have Jason taking the reader out on a date somewhere. And he’s really awkward and dorky because HE DOESNT KNOW HOW TO DATE-. And maybe like super overly protective and the reader is so chill about it coz he’s just so adorkable >///

There you go. 100% fluff and funny. I hope you’ll like it ;-)

Warning: Language, Mention of alcohol, violence and sex.

An Adorkable Moron (Jason Todd x Reader)

“Start with the wide end of the tie on the right and the small end on the left. The tip of the small end should rest slightly above your belly-button…”

Hands struggling with the silk dark red tie, Jason’s blue eyes were occasionally glancing towards the screen of his computer to check if he was doing great. He was grumbling, frustrated, impatient and above all … stressed. How could a Windsor knot be that complicated, for fuck’s sake?

“ You have to be kidding me.” He heard an all too familiar snickering voice by the door and closed briefly his eyes to mumble a inaudible curse. Then, he glowered at the red-haired woman leant against the door frame that had dared disturb him. If his eyes could have killed, then Artemis Grace would be fucking dead by now… and possibly turned to ashes too. “You’re going to tell me that you can load and unload a gun in few seconds but you can not tie a tie.” “ I can tie a tie. I’m just … rusty.” He confessed as he let the fabric fall between his hands.Artemis chuckled briefly but eventually approached to help him. “There. Give it to me. Before you start sweating in your pathetically ironed black shirt.”“ What are you talking about? It’s perfectly ironed.” She glanced up at him as she knotted the tie around his neck with a look that meant everything. “I thought your butler would have taught you how to pass for a gentleman.” “Well he did teach me a few things but I never truly listened.” “There. All done.” She said as she adjusted the tie. “Now you definitely look like a penguin.”“ What?” He replied, obviously offended. “Yeah. But I’m guessing if you’re bringing your date to the Ice Lounge Bar that it should be fine.” “ Grayson advised me on the clothes to wear tonight.” “ Okay A/ Did he tell you to look like a member of Green Day with a pitchfork up your bottom? B/ As far as I know, he’s not a fashion icon.” “ Alright” Jason sighed, pitching the bridge of his straight nose. “Three things. One, it’s a poker up your ass, Ar. Two, since when do you know Green Day? and three, You’re right.” “ Of course I am … and don’t you ever underestimate my knowledge of your edgy musical taste again.” Jason shrugged and decided to stop he conversation right there. He knew he would not have the last word. “Where are you taking her/him anyway tonight?” “ Remember the restaurant I brought you on Valentine’s day?” Artemis’ green eyes widened in shock. “ You men are so lame.”

So he changed everything. No more stupid tie. Black shirt, fine but with a pair of jeans. “Be yourself … I mean, sort of.” His Amazon friend had said. Sort of? What did ‘sort of’ mean?” A bouquet in his hands, he walked up the steps leading to your apartment three by three as he cleared his throat, trying to think of the things he would say when you open the door. “You look gorgeous, tonight. No ravishing? Too much? Splendid? No … Shit” And for a second he wished he was Dick. He wished he had some real self-confidence and not this ridiculous insecurity hidden behind his bad boys looks. He wished he had that soft and charming perfectly white smile that would allow him to stay quiet and still be sure to have the chance to go on a second date. He wished he had that same lame humour that inexplicably made every girl laugh and not this deadpan sarcasm. Actually, he wished there was no date at all.

He hated dates! He hated first dates even more. He had been on three dates in his all life and not even once had it been a success. Artemis. Isabel. Essence (what is a date?). All failures! He had never brought the girl back home. Meeting someone in a bar, around a nice beer and chat that was more his thing. Not this wooing stuff.

Jason sighed and finally rang at the door. His hands were so sweaty. Why were they sweaty? “Damn it” He wiped them quickly on his jeans, placing the bouquet between his legs, and you opened the door with a grin, catching him off guard. “Hi. You’re early.” “Hi. You’re…” He looked for his words until you cut him short. “Not ready. Sorry.” You smiled confused. “But come in.” You waved him to enter and he did.

A hand in his pocket and the other tightened around the bouquet, you could tell he was a bit uncomfortable. He looked around the place, not by curiosity … well, maybe a little … but also because he didn’t dare look at you. Because if he looked at you then he would have to say something and right now he had no clue what to say. “They are for me?” You pointed at the flowers. He glanced quickly at the flowers and handed them to you even faster. “Yeah.” You took them and smell them. “ They are beautiful. Thank you.”“They didn’t really appreciate the ride.” He grimaced. “ They are perfect. You didn’t have too” You said to reassure him as you put them in a flowerpot. “What don’t you sit on the couch while I finish getting ready?” You proposed.“Yeah.” He tried to smile. Instead he had a weird sneer. You chuckled and disappeared towards your bedroom. “ Make yourself at home. I won’t be long.” You yelled. “ No problem.” Yeah, right. No problem, my ass. Jason sat on the couch and started tapping on his thighs. He knew he had to relax, that it was going to be fine. But right now, he had that poker in his ass –or pitchfork, as Artemis would say, since it was hurting like a bitch – and he couldn’t get rid of it. “Stop acting so scared, Jason. You’re a man. You’re the Red Hood.” He whispered.“ You can put some music on if you want” He heard you scream from your bedroom.Wait? Was it a test? Were you testing his tastes? His eyes widened. “No it’s okay. I’m cool.” “ You don’t like music?” You asked trying to make him talk a little bit. “ Sure I do.” He answered very fast. “ What do you like?” You rummaged in your closet looking at your clothes, not knowing what would be really appropriate for tonight, what would send the right message. The one that meant “We’re doing this date thing but I know it’s completely useless and hey! We should kiss already.” This shirt? Too see-through. You don’t wanna him to believe you want a one-night stand. This one? Turtle neck really? What are you? A nun/priest? “ Many things.” He mumbled as he observed the apartment to find a clue on what you liked. Hopefully the Spotify page was opened. He scrolled. Last titles played. “ Ariana Grande.”

You frowned. He liked Ariana Grande? “Really?” “ Yeah. ‘No tears left to cry’ is great” He declared from the living room. “Demi Lovato, too.” You almost dropped your top. Was he reading your roommate’s playlist? You shook your head with a mocking laugh and came back into the living room. “Didn’t know you liked popular music.” “ You look perfect” He said without thinking. You blushed slightly, definitely not insensitive to the compliment. “You’re not bad yourself.” He scratched his skull, keeping his distance. “ So where are we going?” “ I had booked a table in a fancy restaurant in Centre Gotham but Artemis made me cancel saying that I was lame or something like that.” You frowned. “You don’t wanna know why. So I was thinking that we could ride to Blüdhaven and stroll by the harbour and maybe have something to eat. I took a helmet for you and …” You smiled, touched by his embarrassment and his unexpected romanticism. “… or we can go elsewhere if you prefer.” “ That sounds like a good idea to me.” You admitted, sincerely. He smiled like a little boy. You could tell he was so happy you agreed and yet so stressed.

Once outside, you followed him to his bike and he handed you a helmet and a leather jacket that was way too big. You put them on and he double-checked if the helmet fitted you. “We’re never safe enough.” You chuckled, finding him irresistibly cute. “Look at you, all protective.” “ I’m serious. Security is not a joke” He put down the visor to annoy you and it worked. “Hey!” You grumbled to make him laugh a bit, hoping that he would loosen up a little but it didn’t. “Come on. Sit behind me.” He said as he got on the bike. You obeyed and wrapped your hands around his chest, holding him tight.” He shivered slightly, fining the sudden proximity quite pleasant and started the engine.

You loved it. The speed. The wind. The view. The sensation of freedom. It was amazing. “Woooo” You screamed as Jason overtook a new car. He smirked behind his helmet and accelerated. “ You’re okay back there?” “ This is awesome!!” He wished it would have lasted longer but you reached Blüdhaven in merely twenty minutes. You parked and Jason helped you take off the helmet. Your hair were completely dishevelled, you knew it. “ Why did I bother styling my hair?” You asked as you blew a strand of hair away from your face. “ You still look beautiful.” He admitted before clearing his throat. “Shall we?” “Yeah”

The night was great… Or at least that’s what you tried to believe. Jason kept his hands in his pockets the entire evening as you walked along the neon-lighted pier. He didn’t touched you, didn’t try to hold your hand or to brush your skin with his fingers when you had passed him his drink early on. Instead he remained face down, barely answering your question as you were relentlessly trying to make conversation. Why was he that nervous? You weren’t that intimidating. You were quite talkative and likeable on the contrary. What if he didn’t like you? You suddenly wondered. No. He wouldn’t have brought flowers and all. Or maybe he was disappointed. Maybe he found you boring. You lost your chill in a flash and your eyes widened in apprehension. So you asked. “ You’re feeling okay? Did I do something wrong?” He immediately stopped walking to stare at you. “What?! No. Why?” “ You’re very distant.” “ I am?” You nodded and he immediately sighed. “Look, Jay. If you don’t like me or…”“ What? No! Of course I like you. I like you a lot even.” He mumbled without even taking a breath. “ So why are you like this? Am I scaring you or something?” He didn’t reply and then you got it. “Oh my god! I am scaring you!” You laughed like you never laughed before even though it wasn’t that funny and he glowered at you. “ It’s not funny.” He muttered but you couldn’t help it. You needed to laugh. You had been way too serious tonight because of his uneasiness “Stop mocking me.” “ I’m sorry. I’m gonna stop.” You promised as you took a deep breath, small tears watering your eyes. “It’s just. I’m not a date kind of guy. I suck at dates. I hate dates.”“ That I understood.” “ And you’re an amazing girl/guy and … I … I don’t know what I was thinking. I was impressed. I wanted everything to be perfect even if that meant acting like someone I’m not. I almost put a tie, for fuck’s sake.” You chuckled and he continued. “ And I don’t even like Ariana Grande.” You burst out laughing. “ I don’t either.” “ I saw your playlist.” He shouted, outraged. “ That wasn’t mine. It was my roomate’s.” You swore for a second that he did all he could not to shout. “ Worst date ever.”“ I wouldn’t say. I found you quite adorable … adorkable even.” He sighed and leant against the balustrade along the pier. You did the same and you both remained quiet for a short while. “ Can you chill now?” “ I’m chill.” He retorted rather coldly. “ No you’re not. Come on. Let’s do something else.” “ Seriously? You still want to stay with a moron like me?” “ I happen to like morons like you.” You winked and you extended your hand. He watched it for a second and finally grabbed it with a smirk on his face. “ And I’m guessing that you must know a place where they are more at ease.” “Yep. It’s called a bar.” He curled his fingers between yours holding tightly your hand. This was way better already.

And it had been incredible. Nice music. Beers. Cheering and laughing people. And Jason being suddenly all relaxed and surprisingly physical and tactile. Holding your hand, caressing you and occasionally brushing your hair with his fingers. You had enjoyed it so much you hadn’t wanted it to end. But it had eventually. It had ended when after Jason had left you alone for a moment to order some new drinks a man had come to your table to flirt with you. It had made Jason see red and come back to you in a matter of two seconds. “Hands off, asshole.” They would have fought if you hadn’t held him back. You were sure of it. “ Come on, Jay. He’s not worth it. Don’t ruin the night because of him.”“ Yeah, Jay. Listen to your bitch.” The man had mocked him. You had both frozen and Jason had looked daggers at the man. “Excuse me, baby.” He had punched him. A nice right hook in the jaw that had knocked him out and silenced the entire bar. “Better. Let’s go.”

And now here you were, back at your apartment, on the doormat. You looked for your keys in silence, as Jason was again quite uncomfortable, looking down at his shoes. “You’re not mad at me about that asshole in the bar, I hope?” So that’s what it was now. “No.” You admitted. “ It was actually really nice to see you that jealous and overprotective. Sexy even. But it scared me too. Who knows? We could have started a terrible bar fight.” He snickered. “ Sexy, huh?” He repeated with a smirk. You blushed and bit your lips. “Let’s say it didn’t leave indifferent.” “ I know something else that would not leave you indifferent as well.” He whispered with a suddenly very seductive low voice as he bent over to approach your face. You didn’t move and gazed at him while he grabbed your waist to hold you still and caress your lips with his. “You’re an adorkable moron, you know that.” “ If you let me in, you will say something very different tomorrow.”

#Jason Todd #red hood #fans #Fanfic Request #fanfic #answer request #red hood and the outlaws

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welcometothepenumbra · 6 years ago

Text

JUNO STEEL AND THE PRINCE OF MARS (PART ONE)

SOUND: DOOR OPENS, BELL RINGS, RAIN.

MUSIC: STARTS.

CONCIERGE: Ah, good evening, Traveler! Welcome to The Penumbra. May I take your coat? You’ve picked an excellent place to spend the night, dear Traveler. The Penumbra is the grandest hotel this side of nowhere. Countless rooms and countless halls. Just look ahead of you. See the doors go on and on… even we aren’t sure how many there are, or what lies behind them all.

Will you be staying long? Many of our guests do. You’re in good company, Traveler. The Penumbra draws guests from everywhere and everywhen. And all of them have stories to tell. Stories that will excite you, delight you, and maybe even terrify you.

Don’t believe me? Well, see for yourself.

SOUND: KEYS JINGLING.

Detective Steel is at it again. This week he’s after a missing medicinal magnate. He’s dealt with plenty of missing persons before, and he says they all have one thing in common: the interesting part is never where the victims disappeared to, it’s what they left behind.

SOUND: THREE KNOCKS. CHIMES JINGLING.

What luck! It sounds like he’s in. Come, Traveler. Come with me into room J-13.

SOUND: DOOR CREAKING OPEN.

Juno Steel and the Prince of Mars.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: GONG.

VOICE 1: Youth. Is there anything more precious than youth?

MUSIC: STARTS.

For thousands of years, humanity has searched for a way to bottle youth, focus, energy, power. We’ve searched for fountains, electricity, exercise, but never have we looked to the past… until now. My people, the ancient Martians, knew the secret to endless youth. Focus. Energy. Power. These were the traits of every Martian, from lowly workman to king and queen. And today, I, the Saffron Prince of Mars, bring you these secrets: Focus. Energy. Power. From the ancient Martian sands, we bring you: Kokayee-ne.

Koyakee-ne: the focus of a mystic; the energy of a child; the power of an ancient. Now available wherever prescriptions are sold.

Kokayee-ne: from my people to yours.

Kokayee-ne: from Saffron Pharmaceuticals.

MUSIC: ENDS.

SOUND: BUZZING, RADIO TUNING. CLICK.

JUNO: Damn ads get longer every day.

MUSIC: STARTS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Hyperion City: the only place in the galaxy where you can buy a dime bag from a prince, all from the comfort of your personal vehicle. It’s convenient, sure.

SOUND: RADIO TUNING.

VOICE 2 (FROM RADIO): —and just for you we’ll throw in two tons of uranium-236, all for the low, low cost of—

SOUND: RADIO CLICKS OFF.

JUNO (NARRATOR): But it does mean there’s never anything good to listen to. My name’s Juno Steel, and I spend a lot of time with my car radio. On stakeouts, listening in where I’m not wanted. Getting chased and starting chases. I’m a private eye.

I’ve picked up all kinds of clients during my decade and change in the P.I. business. Politicians, execs, celebrities, interplanetary criminals. But that day I was meeting with a very different animal: royalty.

MUSIC: ENDS.

SOUND: GONG, DOOR OPENS.

MUSIC: STARTS.

VOICE 1 [THE SAFFRON PRINCE OF MARS]: Juno, so glad you could make it! How long has it been? It feels like years.

JUNO: Probably because it’s been years.

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES.

PRINCE: I mean, look at you!

JUNO: I’d rather not.

PRINCE: Well, look at me, then. No, don’t. We’ve both gotten so old, Juno! How did we let it happen? I’d always thought… well, I thought what all young people think, the fools: that aging was just for other people.

JUNO (NARRATOR): He might have been right about that one. I last saw the guy ten years ago, before he landed the role of a lifetime as the face of Saffron Pharmaceuticals. Back then his name was Julian, his title was ‘hey you,’ and the strongest thing he tried to sell me was a double espresso. A decade had passed, and Julian still looked bright-eyed, soft-skinned, and twenty-five. A real achievement, given he was thirty when we met.

PRINCE: What were we up to, in those days? It feels like a lifetime ago. God, I must have been so pathetic. Was I pathetic? Tell me how pathetic I was.

JUNO: I’m gonna plead the fiftieth on that one. So you called me about—

PRINCE: No, no, hold on, I almost have it. Now I remember: in my jail cell!

JUNO: You were under house arrest.

PRINCE: The courtroom then. A thunderstorm! The prosecution railed against me, and you struck your fists upon the table and shouted, "No! I swear that justice will be served!"

JUNO: You never even went to trial.

PRINCE: You saved me, Juno. And back when I was nobody! You took my case when everyone was certain I’d killed that man, and you saved me from a lifetime of prison bars and cafeteria food and men named Hank with tattoos on their faces! I promised never to forget it on that snowy night, and Juno Steel, I never will. And that’s why I know you can save me again.

JUNO: Julian, I thought we had an agreement over the phone.

PRINCE: Oh, we do.

JUNO: You just said ‘save you.’

PRINCE: Did I?

JUNO: You did. Listen, I’ve got a few people you can call, but I’m not in the market for another murder, or smuggling charge, or whatever the hell else you’re up to. I’m looking for slower cases right now.

PRINCE: But this is a slow one, Juno! The very slowest, a glacier of a case, I promise you. But you have to take it! Please, I’m begging you, you must!

JUNO: A glacier, huh?

PRINCE: Uh huh!

JUNO: All right. I’m listening.

PRINCE: You know my husband?

JUNO: No, but I’m a fan of his work. Anthony DiMaggio, head of Saffron Pharma. I’ve had a few real good weeks I should probably thank him for.

PRINCE: Co-head, please. I own just as much of our company as he does, even if he refuses to act like it.

JUNO: Sounds like it isn’t all roses and royal banquets in the Saffron throne room.

PRINCE: It never is. I’m only angry because I love him. That’s not a crime, is it? To love someone so much you think you might simply come apart at the seams and burst?

JUNO: Depends on where you do your bursting.

PRINCE: You know I love him, don’t you?

JUNO: This is sounding real defensive. You should probably get to the point before I remember to forget this whole thing and get out of here.

PRINCE: Tony is missing, Juno. He hasn’t been home in a week.

JUNO: A missing persons gig? What happened to slow?

PRINCE: It isn’t anything dire – not for you, anyway. His ticker is still active; his pulse isn’t raised in any way that suggests a struggle.

JUNO: Did you really just say ‘ticker?’

PRINCE: Oh, you haven’t heard? Bleeding-edge technology, Juno. Some poor fools over at Lannan & Sons were accused of insider trading for selling their stock before telling the public about old Lannan’s most recent set of heart attacks. Tony and I decided to get ahead of the game and put R&D on the Saffron Ticker.

JUNO: You still haven’t said what it does.

PRINCE: It isn’t obvious? It reads key bio signs from whoever has it installed and puts them on a private feed for all of our stockholders to access. Oh, they’re simply all the rage amongst executives; the sense of security really makes the stock’s value soar.

JUNO: You don’t worry about whether or not someone could track you with that sort of thing?

PRINCE: Worry? (LAUGHS) Aren’t you darling! I’d be worried if it didn’t! That’s one of its primary functions.

JUNO: Oh.

PRINCE: You can turn that function off, of course. Everyone should be accorded some amount of privacy. (LAUGHS) This isn’t the 22nd century, after all!

JUNO: So I’m guessing your husband turned off his tracker. That right?

PRINCE: And this is why you’re the detective! Yes, Tony deactivated his tracker. For a full week now. The stockholders are starting to ask questions, and so am I. That man is going to have a lot to answer for when he comes home.

JUNO: So you want me to bring him home, then.

PRINCE: Never.

JUNO: Huh?

PRINCE: His pulse, Juno. I don’t like how it looks. Very calm, and then suddenly very, very active.

JUNO: I think I get what you’re driving at. How long is he, uh, ‘active’ for?

PRINCE: For hours at a time, two or three times a day.

JUNO: Isn’t that kind of a lot for… you know?

PRINCE: Not when we were first married.

JUNO: Ah. Well, at least you know he’s still breathing. But what makes you so sure this isn’t, I don’t know, a kidnapping, or something? Besides his… activity, I mean.

PRINCE: His checkbook is the only other evidence I have. A few hundred credits spent every day for the last three days.

JUNO: That could be anything.

PRINCE: I know exactly what that is, Juno. I was a struggling actor once. And if he’s run off, I don’t want to have anything to do with him anymore. He’d be a fool to run away from this. Who is the public going to follow? Him, or the Saffron Prince of Mars?

JUNO: Here’s hoping we never find out.

SOUND: BEEP.

JUNO: My invoice is in the mail.

PRINCE: Where are you going?

JUNO: Your husband’s office. Most cheaters put their gold and jewels in a safe hidden behind three paintings and a wall clock, but the phone numbers that could end them never get more than a rusty old lock on a desk drawer. Nine times out of ten if there’s an affair going on you’ll find all the evidence you need in the cheater’s desk.

PRINCE: And the tenth time? How do you catch a cheater the tenth time?

JUNO: With their pants down, usually.

PRINCE: That isn’t funny.

JUNO: See you later, Julian. Hubby’ll be home by breakfast. What you do with him then is your business.

MUSIC: ENDS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The central office for Saffron Pharma was exactly what you’d expect from a little mom-and-pop place like the DiMaggios ran. Three-story walls on all sides; land mines underneath dummy walkways; genetically engineered guard dogs that’ll lick all four of their lips as they watch you pass. Places like that are all bark and no bite, though. If you know what to tell ‘em, that is.

COMPUTER VOICE: Please state name.

JUNO: Julian DiMaggio.

COMPUTER VOICE: Please insert keycard—

JUNO: Or the Saffron Prince of Mars. Whichever you got on tap.

COMPUTER VOICE: Please insert keycard.

SOUND: BEEP.

Thank you.

SOUND: DOOR OPENING.

Have a good evening. Saffron Prince.

SOUND: DOOR CLOSING.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Julian gave me that key on the way out, but a key only gets you inside. There was still plenty of security past the front door. First, the dogs.

SOUND: GROWLING.

JUNO: Here poochy, poochy. Got a nice little treat for you. See this? Still bloody and everything.

SOUND: DOG WHINING.

That’s it. Thaaaat’s it.

SOUND: BLASTER SHOT.

There. No such thing as a free meal, Fido. You remember that.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The land mines were next, but I had that covered.

SOUND: COMMS BEEP.

RITA (FROM COMMS): Mista Steel, you did not just shoot that poor doggie!

JUNO: He didn’t feel a thing. I set my blaster to stun first.

RITA (FROM COMMS): You promise?

JUNO: I mean, I’m pretty sure it’s on stun. Seventy percent sure, easy.

RITA (FROM COMMS): Mista Steel!

JUNO: Can it about the dog, Rita! The map. Do you have the map ready?

RITA (FROM COMMS): Oh, the map! Right!

SOUND: KEYBOARD CLICKING.

RITA (FROM COMMS): Let’s see… how many paths are there?

JUNO: Half a dozen.

RITA (FROM COMMS): What time is it?

JUNO: Eleven.

RITA (FROM COMMS): Day?

JUNO: You really need to know all this?

RITA (FROM COMMS): No, Mista Steel. I’m just remindin’ you that I get overtime for this.

JUNO: If I get blown to pieces, Rita, you don’t get any time.

RITA (FROM COMMS): Alright, take your third path from the left.

JUNO: You’re sure about that?

RITA (FROM COMMS): ‘Course I am. I made the Ls with my fingers and everything. Now go, Juno, I ain’t got all night.

JUNO: Hmmm.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I taught Rita the Ls trick, but she’s one of those people R&D departments bring in for testing when they want to make sure their product’s really idiot-proof. So I picked up the steak that Rover fell for and tossed it down the path number three.

SOUND: EXPLOSION.

JUNO: Dammit, Rita!

RITA (FROM COMMS): Mista Steel, are you alright?!

JUNO: I wouldn’t be if I listened to you!

RITA (FROM COMMS): Mista Steel, that ain’t fair! I did exactly like you said, I swear I did! They got landmines under every square foot of that place, and the deactivated paths look different every day! On Sundays after ten if there are eight paths you’re always supposed to take the third one from the left!

JUNO: Eight paths?

RITA (FROM COMMS): That’s what I said, ain’t it?!

JUNO: Rita, there aren’t eight paths.

RITA (FROM COMMS): You said half a dozen!

JUNO: That’s six, Rita. Six.

RITA (FROM COMMS): A dozen is sixteen, ain’t it?!

JUNO: A dozen is twelve! Now stop shouting and tell me where to go!

RITA (FROM COMMS): (YELLING) Who’s shoutin’! I ain’t shoutin’! Do you hear me shoutin’?

JUNO: RITA!

SOUND: BARKING.

I don’t have enough laser carts to take down all of Spot’s friends, Rita. Six paths. Eleven at night. Sunday. Go.

SOUND: KEYBOARD CLICKING.

RITA (FROM COMMS): Second one from the right.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I didn’t have enough time to test it, and I was fresh out of steaks. So I booked it down the path as fast as I could.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS, BEEP, DOOR OPENS.

COMPUTER VOICE: Good evening. Saffron Prince.

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES.

RITA (FROM COMMS): Mista Steel? Didja make it?

JUNO: I’m fine. You got the map of the compound ready?

SOUND: KEYBOARD CLICKING.

RITA (FROM COMMS): Bringing it up now! Mista DiMaggio’s office is exactly where you’d expect it. Top floor, good view. Security should be wide open from here on out, boss.

JUNO: It better be.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES.

I can’t see anything in here, Rita. Think it’s safe to turn on a few lights?

RITA (FROM COMMS): I wouldn’t. You got doors openin’ and closin’ all across the compound.

JUNO: Security guards?

RITA (FROM COMMS): Well, I was gonna say ghosts, but you’re allowed your opinion. Did you know that ghosts will always go towards fluorescent lights, Mista Steel? Frannie told me that.

JUNO: I think that’s moths, Rita.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

RITA (FROM COMMS): Oh.

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES.

JUNO: Alright, if I can’t see you’re gonna need to lead.

RITA (FROM COMMS): You can count on me, boss! Turn left.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS. THUD.

JUNO: (GRUNTS) Left? You sure about that?

RITA (FROM COMMS): Of course I am! I did the Ls and every– thing…

Turn right.

JUNO: Thanks.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

RITA (FROM COMMS): Alright, stop! That’s the one, straight ahead!

SOUND: DOOR OPENS. FOOTSTEPS.

JUNO: Well, Rita? Which one’s it gonna be?

RITA (FROM COMMS): Oh, I dunno…

JUNO: Getting cold feet?

RITA (FROM COMMS): It just, it don’t seem right, playin’ games about something like this.

JUNO: I’m at the desk. Last chance.

RITA (FROM COMMS): I got fifty creds on the bottom right drawer!

JUNO: Fifty? Big spender.

I can’t see a thing in here. Think it’s safe to turn on the flashlight?

RITA (FROM COMMS): Of course it is, just open the drawer!!!

SOUND: DRAWER OPENING.

Ooh, I can’t take the suspense! What’s in there? What is it?

JUNO: No dice, Rita. No steamy letters, either. Drawer’s empty.

SOUND: DRAWER CLOSING.

RITA (FROM COMMS): Aww! But it’s always that one!

SOUND: DRAWERS OPENING AND CLOSING.

JUNO: Looks like we both lost the bet. You ever hear of an exec with nothing but empty drawers?

RITA (FROM COMMS): I hear Samson Cartwright’s been that way ever since the war.

JUNO: I meant desk drawers. There’s nothing in any of—

SOUND: KNOB RATTLING.

Bingo.

RITA (FROM COMMS): Which one was it? Which one was it?

JUNO: Top center. Ballsy choice.

SOUND: METALLIC CLICKS.

Done. Alright, DiMaggio, what juicy secrets are you gonna share with us today?

SOUND: DRAWER OPENING.

Huh.

RITA (FROM COMMS): What is it? What is it?!

JUNO: It’s… fast food wrappers. The only thing this guy was cheating on was his diet.

RITA (FROM COMMS): That’s it?

JUNO: Rita, DiMaggio might be the most boring person we’ve ever tailed.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

Uh oh.

RITA (FROM COMMS): Boss? What’s wrong?

JUNO: (WHISPERING) Were you watching the security feed just now?

RITA (FROM COMMS): Uhhm…

JUNO: I think we’ve got company, Rita.

VOICE 3: I know you do.

RITA (FROM COMMS): Oh no! Mista Steel, get out of there! Mista Steel? Mista—

SOUND: COMMS BEEP.

JUNO: So, this probably looks pretty bad.

VOICE 3: It does.

JUNO: I can explain.

VOICE 3: Can you?

JUNO: If you give me thirty seconds to think of a good lie, I can.

VOICE 3: Keep your voice down. I don’t think I need to tell you that you aren’t allowed in here.

JUNO: (LOUDER) Thanks for telling me anyway. I got lost on my way to the bathroom.

VOICE 3: Not just the room, the building. We lock up on weekends.

JUNO: Yeah, well, I was looking for my bathroom. I got really lost.

VOICE 3: Who are you?

JUNO: A lady’s got to have her secrets.

VOICE 3: Well, a lady wandered into a restricted area after hours, and now a lady’s gonna go home.

JUNO: That’s too bad. Watch the dogs on the way out. They nip a—

SOUND: GUN COCKING.

VOICE 3: I told you to keep your voice down.

JUNO: (QUIETER) I think you just persuaded me. You and your gun make a hell of a debate team.

VOICE 3: Come on, sir, let’s go.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

JUNO: You wanna turn on a flashlight, at least? I could trip and kill myself.

VOICE 3: That sounds more like a solution than a problem to me.

JUNO: Fair. Anyway, how long have you been—

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

VOICE 3: So you won’t tell me who you are.

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES.

Do I get to guess?

JUNO: I get the impression that you’re going to.

VOICE 3: Easy. Shabby coat, shoes covered in mud, hands smell like raw meat.

JUNO: Alright, you got me. I play a butcher in the local Y2K Faire.

VOICE 3: Private eye. That’s my guess.

JUNO: You got all that from my clothes?

VOICE 3: There’s also a stink that comes with a P.I.: desperation, cologne, bourbon.

JUNO: Oh, you like the cologne? I’m trying something new.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS, CLOSES.

VOICE 3: So who’s your client, P.I.?

JUNO: If I told you that, I’d just be an eye.

VOICE 3: Have it your way, then.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS, FOOTSTEPS STOP.

Here’s the door.

JUNO: Just one last questi—

SOUND: PUNCH.

VOICE 3: Bye-bye, P.I.

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES.

JUNO: No! Keycard, where’s that keycard.

SOUND: BEEP.

COMPUTER VOICE: Access denied.

JUNO: The hell do you mean, access denied?

COMPUTER VOICE: Access. Noun. Definition: a means of entry—

JUNO: I know the definition! That’s not what I meant!

COMPUTER VOICE: Denied. Verb. Past tense. Definition: to refuse to grant something to someone… (KEEPS TALKING IN THE BACKGROUND)

JUNO: Aaaarrhh!

SOUND: COMMS BEEP.

JUNO: Rita! The hell’s going on here?!

RITA (FROM COMMS): I don’t know, Mista Steel! She put a hard lock on all the doors!

JUNO: I can see that! The hell kind of a security guard knows how to lock her own boss out?

RITA (FROM COMMS): Security guard?

JUNO: That’s what I—! Rita?

RITA (FROM COMMS): Yes, Mista Steel?

SOUND: COMPUTER VOICE STOPS.

JUNO: Have you ever heard of a security guard prowling around without any lights on, without carrying a flashlight, and who pulls a gun on you just so you’ll keep quiet?

RITA (FROM COMMS): That sounds more like a burglar, Mista Steel.

JUNO: I need to get back in there. Find me a way inside!

RITA (FROM COMMS): I'm tryin’, I'm tryin’!

SOUND: KEYBOARD CLICKING.

She got the windows too, the vents, even the mailbox.

JUNO: Something I could fit through and keep all my bones would be great, Rita.

RITA (FROM COMMS): I know, I know, I— (LAUGHS)

JUNO: What? What is it?

RITA (FROM COMMS): (GIGGLING) Well, she left one way in.

JUNO: And?

RITA (FROM COMMS): Round the corner to your left. Behind the bushes there you’re gonna find a manhole cover.

JUNO: You’re kidding.

RITA (FROM COMMS): Have I ever kidded you before, Mista Steel?

JUNO: I want you to print a copy of that map for me, Rita. If I find out there was any other way in, you’d better have another job waiting.

SOUND: WATER SLOSHING.

RITA (FROM COMMS): Watch where you’re stepping, Mista Steel, you’re making an awful lotta noise in there!

JUNO: If you just spent twenty minutes crawling through Tuesday’s lunch, Rita, you’d be a lot louder than that.

You got a read on our friend?

RITA (FROM COMMS): She’s in basement one now, pokin’ around just the same as you were. I got readings sayin’ she's going up and down the halls stickin’ her nose through every door she sees.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS, CLOSES.

JUNO: Thorough. Must be looking for something.

RITA (FROM COMMS): Too bad for her she hasn’t got one’a me, right?

JUNO: I’ll get you an application.

RITA (FROM COMMS): So what’s your guess, boss? Cat burglar? Super spy?

JUNO: I doubt she’s a spy. Not a good enough liar.

RITA (FROM COMMS): Huh?

JUNO: A spy wouldn’t need to pull a gun on me. A spy would have a whole story ready for just this occasion.

SOUND: DISTANT FOOTSTEPS.

That’s her?

RITA (FROM COMMS): That’s her.

JUNO: At least there’s some light down here. What’s that door she’s staring down?

RITA (FROM COMMS): What door?

JUNO: What do you mean, what door? It’s the biggest one in this place. Looks like the airlock on a long-distance star hauler.

SOUND: DOOR GROANING OPEN.

RITA (FROM COMMS): Ain’t no door on that part of the map, boss.

JUNO: No time to find out. Bye, Rita.

RITA (FROM COMMS): But Mista Steel, you don’t know what’s—!

SOUND: COMMS BEEP.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I kept my distance behind her – as much as I could afford, anyway, without those gates of hell cracking me like a walnut.

Dark red light fell on everything like wet velvet. The floor was corrugated iron so thin your pulse made it shake. The whole place smelled like the kind of chewing tobacco a diesel engine might buy. Overall, it reminded me of the house I grew up in. A little cleaner, maybe.

She rounded a corner, then another, and another. And finally she rounded a corner into a huge, open room with a thousand lockboxes built into the walls. I followed her in.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS, THUD.

JUNO: (PAINED GRUNT)

VOICE 3: Alright, P.I., what’s your game?

JUNO: (STRAINED) Blackjack, usually.

VOICE 3: You know what I mean. Who are you working for?

JUNO: (STRAINED) I’m a private eye. If I told you that I’d just b—

VOICE 3: An eye. You said that already!

JUNO: What, you expect me to come up with a new line every time someone asks a dumb question?

VOICE 3: How about I see if I can beat a dumb answer out of you?

JUNO: Sounds fun.

SOUND: STRUGGLING, PUNCHING.

Well. Look who’s on top.

VOICE 3: Don’t get used to it.

JUNO: Now, let’s see who you are. You wanna get out your ID, or should I?

VOICE 3: (GROWLS)

JUNO: Better luck next time.

SOUND: FABRIC RUSTLING.

Alessandra Strong… private eye?

VOICE 3 [ALESSANDRA STRONG]: Nice to meet you.

JUNO: So much for honor among thieves. Now see, I’m not gonna make the same mistake you did.

STRONG: I’m sure.

JUNO: Not gonna phrase it as a question, I mean.

STRONG: Right.

JUNO: I’m just thinking out loud when I say, in general, I’d like to know who you’re working for.

STRONG: (GROWLS)

JUNO: Didn’t think that’d work. So what’s in this room that’s so important?

STRONG: Wouldn’t you like to know.

JUNO: I would, actually. If I didn’t I wouldn’t have—

SOUND: SMACK. STRUGGLING, PUNCHES.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Wow, she could fight. And not dirty, either. Big hits, the kind that made the room spin so hard you’d grab onto anything to make it stop. Even… the security alarm.

SOUND: ALARM.

STRONG: What’s that? What did you just do?!

JUNO: From the look of it, I just pulled six alarms with my six right hands.

STRONG: Oh, you idiot!

SOUND: BEEP.

COMPUTER VOICE: Access. Granted. Good evening. Anthony. DiMaggio.

SOUND: CHIMES JINGLING.

STRONG: You’re lucky my key still works.

SOUND: MECHANICAL WHIRRING.

Wait, where’s my key?

COMPUTER VOICE: For your safety. Anthony. DiMaggio. This key has been. Reclaimed. By Saffron Pharmaceuticals. Security Division.

STRONG: What?!

COMPUTER VOICE: To repeat this message, press ‘pound’ now.

JUNO: What’d that thing just call you?

COMPUTER VOICE: Compound lockdown. Commencing.

STRONG: Damn it!

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS.

JUNO: Hey, slow down!

STRONG: I don’t have time to kill you now!

JUNO: That’s good. So you’re working for DiMaggio, huh?

STRONG: Back off!

JUNO: (OUT OF BREATH) You have his key, so it seems pretty fair to assume—

STRONG: Duck!

SOUND: METALLIC CLANG.

I’m going to remind you I didn’t have to do that.

JUNO: (PANTING) You’re a real charity worker, Alessandra.

STRONG: Don’t think I won’t leave you behind if I have to.

JUNO: Watch it!

SOUND: METALLIC CLANG.

(PANTING) That was our exit, wasn’t it?

STRONG: (PANTING) There’s another way somewhere… There! It’s the long route, try to keep up.

JUNO: So what’s DiMaggio want from his own office that he can’t get himself?

STRONG: You’re wasting your breath. And in your shape, you’re going to need it.

SOUND: RHYTHMIC, HEAVY THUDS.

JUNO: I just haven’t met many P.I.s who double as cat burglars.

STRONG: You know how it is. Take pay for whatever you can.

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!

JUNO: Are those doors?

STRONG: They look like… teeth. You ever seen anything like this before?

JUNO: A hallway with teeth? Yeah, but I did a lot of experimenting in my twenties.

STRONG: We’ll just have to run for it.

JUNO: Through those? No. I’ve got plans for these limbs later, I don’t plan on losing ‘em here.

STRONG: Well, if we get stuck in here the real security division’s going to do a lot worse. You have any better ideas?

JUNO: Good ideas don’t come cheap.

STRONG: Pitch yours and we’ll talk.

JUNO: See that control panel down there?

STRONG: Past the dozens of closing doors, you mean? Yes, I do.

JUNO: If I can hit that, will you tell me where DiMaggio is?

STRONG: I’ll take those odds. It’s not like that shot is even possi—

SOUND: BLASTER SHOT. THUDDING STOPS.

Huh.

JUNO: So? Pay up.

STRONG: I’m not going to stand around and chat.

JUNO: If you think you’re walking out that easy—

STRONG: Once we get outside, I’ll tell you what I know about DiMaggio. Now shut up and run!

SOUND: ALARM FADES.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Strong and I got out of there as fast as we could. She had the map, I had the gun, she had the brains. We worked together pretty well, when we weren’t trying to kill each other. The sun was rising by the time we got outside.

JUNO: (PANTING) We made it.

STRONG: I’m surprised. For a while there I didn’t think you’d last.

JUNO: (PANTING) What’s the matter? Never had a building try to eat you before?

STRONG: You got a name, mystery detective?

JUNO: (PANTING) I think you owe me something first.

STRONG: I want to know who to make the check out to, is all.

JUNO: Fine. The name’s Juno Steel. Your boss’s name is Anthony DiMaggio, and you’re gonna tell me where he is.

STRONG: Somebody pay you to sniff him out?

JUNO: I’m getting tired of you dodging the bill. Answer the question.

STRONG: Fine. I don’t know where DiMaggio is.

JUNO: What?

STRONG: I don’t know where he is. But I do owe you something, so I’ll say this: he called me three times over the last week from three different payphones across Hyperion City. Wherever the guy is, he’s scared.

JUNO: You must have more than that. How are you getting paid?

STRONG: Checks at specific drop-off points.

JUNO: A few hundred creds at a time?

STRONG: My rates aren’t a secret, Steel, you can look me up whenever you want.

JUNO: That explains his checkbook, then. Where were those payphones? And the drop-off points?

STRONG: Remember when I said that DiMaggio was scared?

JUNO: Sure.

STRONG: How am I supposed to know you’re not the one he’s scared of?

JUNO: There’s no way to answer that and you know it.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

Hey, where you going?

STRONG: I’ve got a paycheck to collect.

JUNO: So that’s it?

STRONG: I might take a nap, if I’m feeling frisky.

JUNO: Come on, Alessandra. We’ve been through hell together. I don’t get a little something?

STRONG: Fine. Thank you. Bye now.

JUNO: Not what I meant. Aren’t you going to tell me about the little toy you picked up?

STRONG: Not for a thousand creds.

JUNO: Good, I don’t have a thousand. Ten cover it?

STRONG: I don’t owe you anything, Steel. Act like a hero all you want, but I wouldn’t be in this mess if you’d just minded your own business.

JUNO: What can I say? You make me feel like a hero, Alessandra.

STRONG: You… what?

JUNO: All it took was your eyes.

SOUND: KISSING.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Strong was a good fighter. Turns out she was an even better kisser. Her kiss made you tingle all over, and it ended with a real punch.

SOUND: PUNCH.

JUNO: (PAINED GRUNT)

STRONG: You… you…!

JUNO: So that’s what you’re into, huh? It’s not really my thing, but I’m willing to learn.

STRONG: Go to hell, Steel.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I watched her go. Can’t say I didn’t enjoy the view. Then the front gate closed, and Alessandra Strong was gone. That didn’t depress me too much. I knew I’d see her again before long. I had something she wanted.

SOUND: CHIMES JINGLING.

Snagged it from her pocket when she started kissing back. Learned that trick from someone I used to know.

SOUND: COMMS BEEP.

RITA (FROM COMMS): How’d it go, Mista Steel?

JUNO: Didn’t walk away empty handed, that’s for sure. Got something from our friend Detective Strong.

RITA (FROM COMMS): Another detective!

JUNO: You ever see something like this before, Rita? It looks kind of like a crystal. Dark red, has something inside it… moving.

RITA (FROM COMMS): Oh! Oh! Have you ever seen Deathbugs from Tartarus?

JUNO: Yes. You know that one’s my favorite.

RITA (FROM COMMS): But Mista Steel, it’s so good! There’s this planet, see, called Tartarus, only it ain’t a planet, it’s like a huge bug-mom, and all these little bug-eggs are always flyin’ out of it, and the eggs go through space, and there’s this man, and he dies right away but he’s very—

JUNO: Hang on a sec, Rita, I’ve got another call.

SOUND: COMMS BEEP.

PRINCE (FROM COMMS): Juno! Is that you? Please, please, please, please—

JUNO: Julian, slow down.

PRINCE (FROM COMMS): —please, please, answer!

JUNO: I answered, what’s the problem?

PRINCE (FROM COMMS): Juno, I’m– I’m so sorry. I know I promised you, well, I promised a lot of things. I do that, don’t I? Make you a lot of promises?

JUNO: You make me something, alright. Spit it out.

PRINCE (FROM COMMS): I just can’t believe, I… (DEEP BREATH) Tony.

JUNO: You found him?

PRINCE (FROM COMMS): I did. Oh Juno, he’s… dead!

JUNO: What?

PRINCE (FROM COMMS): You have to help me, Juno! Please! I’ll pay whatever you ask!

JUNO: Help you? The hell is going on here?!

PRINCE (FROM COMMS): Tony is… my God, he’s dead, and he’s here, in my– in our bed, and he wasn’t just a second ago, and I don’t know how he—

SOUND: POUNDING ON DOOR.

No!

VOICE 4 (FROM COMMS): (THROUGH THE DOOR) This is the HCPD! Open the door!

PRINCE (FROM COMMS): Juno, help me!

JUNO: Julian!

SOUND: DOOR OPENING.

VOICE 4 [POLICE] (FROM COMMS): There he is! Get him!

PRINCE (FROM COMMS): Juno!!

SOUND: COMMS BEEP.

RITA (FROM COMMS): —and then the scientist, the one who looks like Francis Goldwater but with a mustache, he finds out that the bugs are allergic to table salt, and—

JUNO: No time, Rita. I need you to get the car and pick me up from Saffron Pharmaceuticals.

RITA (FROM COMMS): This late? Mista Steel, I’m tired!

JUNO: Just get over here!

RITA (FROM COMMS): Yes, boss.

SOUND: COMMS BEEP.

MUSIC: STARTS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): So my missing persons case turned into a murder. Figures. There’s no such thing as a quiet case on Mars, only loud cases buried so deep you can barely hear ‘em through all the dirt.

I pulled the little crystal out of my pocket and stared into it. Red as Martian sand, and something squirming beneath the surface. Something buried… deep. But even from out here, I could tell it was gonna be loud when it got out.

SOUND: CAR HONKS.

RITA: (DISTANT) Mista Steel!

JUNO (NARRATOR): Most things in my life are.

SOUND: LONG CAR HONK. FOOTSTEPS, CAR DOOR OPENS.

RITA: This better be good, boss. I had plans today.

JUNO: Well, you got new ones now.

SOUND: CAR DOOR CLOSES.

You ever met royalty before, Rita?

RITA: What? What? Mista Steel, really?!?

JUNO: Really. Get us to Hoosegow, Rita, and quick. We’re requesting an audience with the Prince of Mars.

MUSIC: ENDS.

***

SOUND: RAIN & MUSIC.

CONCIERGE: The tale you’ve just heard, Part One of Juno Steel and the Prince of Mars, was told by the following people: Joshua Ilon as Juno Steel, Kate Jones as Rita, Kat Buckingham as Alessandra Strong, Jason Mellin as the Saffron Prince, and Sophie Kaner and Scott Gallica as the Ensemble.

On staff at The Penumbra: Kevin Vibert is our lead writer and recording engineer. Sophie Kaner is our director, lead editor, and sound designer. Juno’s Theme was written by Ryan Vibert.

The Penumbra was created by Sophie Kaner and Kevin Vibert.

I’m so sorry you’ve been called away, dear Traveler. We eagerly await your return.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

#juno steel

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