#my partner made a matching scientist to go with her but I dunno if they will ever post them smh

[jellosarts]

Forgot to share these VotV doodles feat Kel munching bugs and my ariral oc Roo (she/her)

[kingfugue]

swan kingdom part 5-- LZ

I respected Quincy Shankwitz, but I didn’t like her. She was too happy-go-lucky, too messy, too angry at the world. However, since she happened to be my benefactor’s wife, I couldn’t say any of this to her face.

Shankwitz had taken up temporary residence in New London at a rented apartment. My benefactor, she told me, was out for the day, and that she was to be the one who dealt with me. I was not looking forward to this meeting in the slightest because of my failure to kill Eden Perelli. Would she really believe me when I told her I had him, I was inches away from slitting his throat, when he jumped out a window?

There was only one way to find out.

I made my way to the top floor of the Erasmus Street Apartment Complex, discomfort gnawing in the pit of my stomach, and knocked on the door.

“Hang on!” a voice called from inside. Crashing noises rang out, then a crack like a whip, something closing, and finally, Shankwitz answered the door. “Heya, Rat Catcher,” she announced. As I expected, she wore nothing but a bra, matching frilly underwear, and an untied robe.

“Hello.”

“Ooh, you sound grumpy. What’s the matter?”

“I am fine.”

She shrugged and stood aside for me to enter the apartment, which I did. It was unfinished, unsurprising since this was only a temporary residence, but a black couch with a matching table sat against the opposite wall, which I approached. “You really need to find a partner,” she told me.

“I really don’t.”

“Aw, come on. Girls? Boys? Neither? Nobody?” She laughed. “There’s gotta be someone you like, huh?”

“No.”

She flounced over to me. “Nobody?” she teased. “Ha. Fuckin’ liar.”

A sound came from the room to the left, perhaps something thrashing against the sides of a container. Shankwitz rolled her eyes. “Can you keep it down? I’m having a serious conversation!” she yelled. The thrashing subsided. Her playful smile returned. “Alright, I’ll drop it, but I know there’s somebody. I can always tell. I’ve got, like, a sixth sense when it comes to stuff like that. Sit down, want some cake?”

“No thank you.” I sat down calmly on the couch, but in the back of my head, I wondered how she knew about the person I had been thinking about all day.

“Oh, right, you don’t like sweets. What a killjoy. Well, I’m going to have some, and you aren’t stopping me.” She opened a box on the table next to the couch and pulled out a round sponge cake with her bare hand, making me shudder. If she licks the frosting off her fingers, I’m leaving.

“I have some unfortunate news,” I told her.

“Huh? You do?”

“Eden Perelli is still alive.”

In that second, her face contorted from bright and bubbly to sinister and angry. “He’s alive?”

“Yes. I can explain--”

“What the fuck are we paying you for, you stupid bastard? You told us you had a perfect record!”

“I do.”

She put the cake directly on the table and narrowed her eyes at me. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now,” she growled.

“I know where he is.”

Shankwitz raised her eyebrows in interest. “Oh?”

“And I can get to him when the time is right. It won’t be immediate; we will need to be patient. But it can be done.”

“Hm.” Her anger hadn’t completely faded from her face, but at least she didn’t seem like she wanted me dead anymore. Shankwitz sat down next to me. “So where is he?”

Even through my mask, she smelled like candy somehow. I wanted to vomit. “He’s been taken in by a local scientist,” I said.

“Why? Are they fucking?”

“Are they what?”

“Fucking. You know? Oh wait, jesus, you do know what that means, right?”

“I know what that means,” I snapped.

She snickered. “Hey, I wouldn’t be surprised. I don’t think that mask will get you laid anytime soon, unless you’re into some real freaky shit.”

“They are not-- fucking-- as far as I know,” I supplied.

“Uh huh.”

“However--”

“Ooh! Gossip!”

I rolled my eyes. “However, I feel that there is a kind of interest in both parties. Whether it will go anywhere I don’t know.”

She clapped her hands together, frustrations forgotten. “Fun! I can’t wait! Oh, are you going to kill them both? Or torture one and make the other watch? Or fuck one and make the other one watch? Or--”

I sighed. “Miss Shankwitz, I really don’t know why your mind jumps to these conclusions. You know my orders are to keep bystanders out of my mission.”

“Yeah, but it would be fun,” she pouted.

That same thrashing sound came from the bathroom again, accompanied by muffled grunting. “What is that?” I asked.

“My honeybear got him for me,” she said, glancing over to the bathroom, “to keep me company today, but he’s so loud all of a sudden. Might be because you’re here.”

“Him…?”

“I forgot his name. Honeybear said he’s a politician, so it’s all moral and shit.”

“Moral…? What’s moral?”

“You want to see? Come here, I’ll show you. Bet you’ll like it.” Shankwitz stood up and, cautiously, I followed. She opened the door to the bathroom with a flourish.

Blood spattered the walls, floor, and ceiling of the white tiled room. A leather whip, wet with more blood, leaned against the side of the toilet. Something fleshy and red was tied up in the bathtub. “You… are going to clean this up, aren’t you?” I asked.

“You and your cleaning. Sure, I’ll clean it up after I’m done. Don’t want the landlord getting mad at me. But enough about me--” She closed the door and put her hand on her hip-- “what about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. You work for me but I hardly know a thing about you. So come on, tell me about yourself!”

“I’m leaving.”

She leapt forward and seized my arm, and I fought the urge to strangle her. “You’re so mysterious!” she exclaimed. “Let’s sit down and chat until honeybear gets back!”

“When does she get back?”

Shankwitz shrugged. “Dunno, but I’m bored. That dumb politician isn’t as fun as you.”

“I doubt it.”

“Well, he was screaming like a pig a few hours ago, but now he’s so quiet. Boring!” She tugged me back to the couch and used her weight to place me next to her on the cushion. I let out an exasperated sigh. “What’s your name again?” she asked. 

“You know my name.”

“What, like your first name is ‘Rat’ and your last name is ‘Catcher’? Or is your first name ‘The’ and your middle name is ‘Rat’ and--”

“No.”

She batted her chestnut eyes in wordless expectation. At last, I muttered, “Zhou.”

“And first name?”

“I don’t share my first name.”

“Have you forgotten? I’m your boss. I can make you do whatever I want.”

“Your honeybear is my boss.”

Her fingernails dug into my coat. I could feel the little points poking my skin, and I winced, my heart racing as the image of the man in the bathtub flashed in front of my eyes. “Are you questioning my authority, Zhou?” she growled.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I murmured, “and I apologize.”

The cheerfulness returned and my muscles relaxed as she withdrew her claws from my arm. “Good. Then what’s your first name?”

I hesitated, then replied, “Liuyang.”

“Liuyang Zhou. Am I saying that right?”

“Yes.”

“What a nice name. I’ll call you Liuyang from now on.” She knew this was going to bother me. She knew it and she liked it. Bitch. “So, Liuyang, this special someone on your mind… why don’t you tell me about them?”

There was no use lying to her again about it. “This special someone,” I repeated. Special didn’t seem to do my feelings justice. “He--”

“He? Aha!” She released my arm at last and bounced on the cushion.

“It isn’t even serious,” I continued, feeling a blush creep up into my cheeks. “It’s a passing fancy, I know it. And he doesn’t feel the same for me.”

“How do you know?”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Miss Shankwitz, I wear a mask and trench coat. I know.”

“Huh. You have a point.”

“Is that all you needed?” I asked impatiently. “This isn’t pertinent to my mission in the slightest.”

Shankwitz rolled her eyes so hard I was worried her pupils would vanish into her skull. “Listen, Liuyang. I suffer from a chronic case of boredom. I used to live with a group of wandering cannibals. Now that was fun. These days, it’s just my honeybear and me. And don’t get me wrong, I love her, I love her to death, but these periodic murders just aren’t entertaining enough. She’s so protective of me, too, so it’s always, ‘Quincy, you could get caught if you do this’, and, ‘Quincy, let someone else take the fall for that’, and I’m cooped up with nothing to do!”

“She cares about you.”

“Oh, I know she does, the sweetheart. It’s just-- well, you wouldn’t understand. Like you told us when we met you, you work best alone.”

“Correct.”

“Well, I don’t. We’ve been together for years and I couldn’t do it without her. But my point is--” she threw up her hands in the air in dramatic fashion-- “I’m deathly bored. So do me a favor and give me some entertainment, huh?”

Shankwitz was as immature as a child. I bit my lip to hold my retort back and nodded instead. “Then… what is it you’d like to know?”

“What’s he like?”

“Er…” What a vague question. The least she could do was to be specific with her demands. “You want to know… a description of his physical appearance?”

“No, I mean, why do you like him so much? What puts him above everyone else?”

Above everyone else? An interesting question. Even I wasn’t sure I knew the answer to this, as I had never taken such a fascination in someone before now. My job remained a priority in my life. But now? Why, now, had my heart been tugged in such an unexpected direction? “I have never met another like him,” I answered simply.

“Is that all?”

“His character is one I would give my right arm to study more closely. In short, he is so different from me, I feel incomplete knowing I may never understand his motives.”

Shankwitz blinked a few times. I could tell this was confusing more than helping her. By the stars, I really had to spell this out for her. “He’s very hot,” I added.

“Oh! Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

There we go.

“You need to ask him out. Or-- no, wait, are you friends?”

“No, we aren’t.”

“Ask him out to something casual. A nice little hunt for an IR. That way, you can impress him, make some money, and have fun at the same time!”

I chuckled. “He would hate that.”

“No, you’re just bad at this,” she pouted. “Oh, and you’ve got to ditch the mask. It’ll scare him away.”

“I use this mask to breathe in the contaminated city air, Miss Shankwitz, I can’t very well take it off.”

“But--”

The sound of keys turning in the lock at the door cut her off. Shankwitz gasped and leapt up from the couch to run to the door almost as soon as it opened to throw her arms around the person who entered. “I missed you!” she exclaimed.

The person wore a red mask painted with the design of the biblical Lucifer’s face on it. Unlike mine, this mask served no medical purpose, as there were simply two eye holes and a string around the head to hold it in place. The person removed the mask in the hand that wasn’t massaging Shankwitz’s head. “I’m sorry that took so long,” she said, shaking her auburn hair out. “Oh, hello, Rat Catcher. You’re still here?”

“I’m afraid so. Our meeting ran… long.”

“Long? Do you mean to tell me that there were some complications?”

I fidgeted in my seat. If Shankwitz was so angry with me, I could hardly imagine how my boss, the one who ordered the attack in the first place, would react. Well, I might as well cut to the chase. “He isn’t dead,” I announced to the room, loud to mask my anxiety, “but I have him where I want him, and I just need time.”

She pried Shankwitz away and approached me. Her red turtleneck sweater, skinny black jeans, and black leather boots, further invoked the image of the Christian devil in my mind. I avoided her fierce grey eyes and instead examined the wood floor. “He isn’t dead,” she clarified.

“No. I’m sorry. The problem will be rectified.”

A terrible silence gripped my throat like a skeletal hand. “I will give you one week,” she said, “and one week only. If you fail, I will take your life in place of his until I find someone new. Are we clear, Rat Catcher?”

“Yes, Miss Perelli,” I murmured.

“Good. Now get out of my apartment.”

“Yes, they clash with the decor,” Shankwitz chimed in.

I stood up. “Thank you for your patience. I have never failed a client and I won’t fail you.”

“We’ll see,” she mused.

Not wanting to linger, I strode across the room, giving the couple a wide berth, and closed the door behind me.

[captainsbabysitter-blog]

Stars Collide

Rating: Teenish for some swearing

Warnings: My sad attempts at writing bipolar disorder, child neglect, very brief reference to abuse

Pairing: Reference to future Chris/Phil

Length: 4091 words

Summary: So here’s the long-teased prequel of Christmas Cheer and I Couldn’t Leave Him, found here in my Double Trouble Masterlist. A young Chris deals with bouncing around the foster care system and starting his family of choice. Erin in name stolen blatantly from @gracieminabox and her Horizons Universe which if you haven’t read through her stuff I dunno what you’re doing.

~*~*~*~

The first memory Chris had of his mother was at the age of five, trying to rouse her from bed. Both hands were pointing up on the clock and they were supposed to go the playground that day, but she was still curled up under the thin blanket.

“Mama’s just really tired today, baby,” She mumbled. “Go play in your room.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but she looked so sleepy that the words died on his tongue and he went to the kitchen to get himself some cereal instead. The milk didn’t smell so good so he settled in on the couch with his bowl to munch handfuls of dry, off-brand Cap’n Crunch. Bugs Bunny and his over the top antics couldn’t quite quell the niggling thought that something was wrong.

It took a few days for her to bounce back, but bounce back she did in a big way. Chris came home from preschool to a strong smell of cleaner and the whole place was nearly spotless. A few steps in and he was met with a chiding, “Take your shoes off!” and the look in her eyes almost scared him. They were wide and alive with a kind of focus Chris couldn’t remember ever seeing in her before.

The pattern repeated. She’d be okay for a while- months sometimes- but something would always make her spiral. Sometimes she’d fly so high, but Chris hated those times the most. Those days, he’d often come home to his ball cap hanging off the doorknob with a bag that always had a jar of peanut butter and cracker. He didn’t understand the sounds that came from inside the house, but he knew he wasn’t supposed to go in so he ate the crackers and wandered around the neighborhood until one of the neighbors eventually pulled him inside for dinner and put him to bed in their guest room. On nights when they didn’t, he’d pillow his head with his hat and settle in wherever he happened to feel like it.

That’s how he noticed the stars. As he lay awake staring up at the sky, he marveled at the way it seemed to come alive with a billion points of light the second the sun dipped below the horizon.

One day, not long after his sixth birthday, he came home to find a strange car in the driveway. His hat was nowhere to be found, so he just shrugged to himself and walked in. The quiet murmurs of voices from the kitchen drew him in. A woman was sitting at the table with his mother, a notebook in her hands and she looked so serious.

His mom’s eyes were rimmed red and dried tear tracks streaked her cheeks, but she gave him a weak smile when she saw him there. “Chris, baby… Come over here.”

She lifted him up into her lap and held him close, face burrowing into fluffy curls with a shaky breath. He twisted in her arms to look up at her as he asked, “What’s wrong, mama?”

“I’ve gotta go away for a while, baby. I’m sick and I’m gonna go somewhere where I can get better.”

He wanted to say he didn’t know what she was talking about, but the last year was more than proof enough that something was wrong with her. The woman across the table watched him piece things together until he finally spoke again, “Where am I gonna go?”

“This nice lady? Her name is Beth and she’s gonna bring you to live with another family until I’m better. Then we can be a family again.”

“Your mom is going to help you pack some things so we can get going,” Beth added, her tone so much gentler than her expression. “There’s a foster family lined up for you already.”

That first foster home was okay. Not great, but okay. The Guillmette’s were nice enough, but they were one of maybe five foster homes in the area so their space and resources were stretched thin. He shared a room with five other boys, the room they were in large enough to fit three bunk beds, a couple dressers, and that’s about it. It was crowded, loud, no one had any privacy, and the process of everyone getting up in the morning was so rushed that Chris just waited until everyone else left the room before he even attempted to climb down from his bunk.

Between the sounds of the boys roughhousing and the three girls down the hall shrieking at each other for some offense or another, Chris found himself tucking away in the library down the road until the lights dimmed and the wizened librarian told him it was time to go home more often than not. He would ask his foster mother to pack him a lunch- almost always a peanut butter and jelly with an apple in his Disney lunch box- and he’d make his way to the library where his nose was buried in any book his could get his hands on.

It’s where he decided he’d be a scientist one day. He couldn’t even read a lot of the words in the books he pulled from the shelves, but illustrations of the stars drew him in and he puzzled through as much as he could for days on end.

He was there for nearly a year.

Really, he was excited to go back home. His mother was on a pill that helped her a lot and those days where she couldn’t move out of bed were mostly a thing of the past. Gone, too, were the days of him coming home to peanut butter and crackers on the door and the nights of tucking in at the neighbors’. Things seemed almost normal.

Until the day he came home and she was tucked away in her room. After a couple days, he gave in and called Beth; if she helped last time, maybe she could help now.

His second foster home wasn’t as nice. It was less crowded, but it was in the middle of nowhere on a huge farm and he was expected to help out with the chores every morning. The sun wasn’t even up yet the first morning he was roused from slumber to drag heavy buckets out to the animals. When the bucket spilled from his hands, sending feed everywhere, the other kids just stared at him. He had welts on his behind by the time he left for school that made sitting in class torturous.

The pattern repeated itself year after year. His mama would spend time at the asylum, get on her medication and get better, they’d both go back home and be okay for a while, but she would always stop taking her medication when she was feeling good for a while. It didn’t matter that her doctors always said she had to keep taking it.

Beth was replaced with Eliza who was replaced by Alice. It didn’t seem like his social workers stuck around for long before another fresh-faced, well-intentioned person would take the place of harried, overworked workers experiencing burnout long before they hit retirement. Chris didn’t really bother letting himself get too attached after Beth left around the time he hit the age of eleven. He never let himself get attached to his foster families. Inevitably, he’d be sent back to his mother or be bounced to a different house and he’d never hear from any of them again. The library of whatever town he lived in became his only stability.

Then came the day that changed it all. Eliza showed up for her usual appointment and asked to speak to him alone. He was twelve, and not really sure what to expect.

“Chris… I know we said you would be going home soon, but…” She bit her lip and tried to find the right words. “Your mother is being committed indefinitely. Do you know what that means?”

“That she’s not coming home this time,” he answered dully, brain not fully wrapping around the idea. “Am I staying here?”

“For now, yes. You’re going to be put up for adoption, and you might end up in a different home on a more permanent basis. Do you have any questions?”

“No, ma’am…”

It wasn’t until he hit his teen years that he finally made a friend that wasn’t a librarian. He was hidden away in his usual corner until someone settled in on the other side of the couch. Mousy brown hair, glasses with frames so large they practically covered her face, and a hand-me-down striped shirt that probably belonged to an older brother or cousin at some point scrunched up over her hands while she read.

“I’m Erin,” she offered when she noticed him looking at her. “You mind if I sit here?”

“Chris… Go ahead, I guess,” he shrugged and buried his nose deeper into his book.

After a while of silence, Erin piped up again, “What’re you reading?”

“A book on astrophysics…”

“So that’s what? Stars and stuff?”

“Pretty much.”

She wrinkled her nose. “But it’s so dark and cold up there. Fish are cooler.”

Now he knew he probably wasn’t getting back to his book. “We’re in the desert. Where the hell would you even find fish that aren’t in the pet store?”

“I’m not gonna be here forever, you know. Are you?”

“No. I’m gonna go to MIT and be a scientist. Study space.”

“Where’s MIT?”

“Boston. It’s a really hard school to get into.”

“Is that why you’re here so much?”

That made him look up again. “How do you know I’m here a lot?”

Erin shrugged and pushed her glasses back up her nose. “Because I’m here a lot, too. You sit here all the time. You can go back to reading now I’ll be quiet. Promise.”

That first day turned into several weeks of the two of them reading mostly in silence. The silence evolved into talking about what they were reading. Quiet discussions in the library turned into Chris reading through Erin’s short stories while she edited his essays. He helped her with science and math while she walked him through the finer points of Shakespeare.

Their sophomore year found them in the same school. Chris had been moved to yet another foster home that finally put him in the same school district as his best, and really only friend. All their classes matched up and their library sessions turned into partnering up for homework.

On one such day, Chris found himself curious in a more biological way. Erin had blossomed a little over the summer and her flat chest had swelled to a nice B-cup. Her hair was always pinned up in a messy bun and her glasses were still too big for her face, but… Something about her was really appealing to Chris.

“Hey Erin?”

“Hm?” She hummed as she gnawed her way through yet another pencil while puzzling over her current writing project.

“Can I kiss you?”

Wary eyes scrutinized him for several long moments. “Why?”

“I dunno… We’ve known each other for years and you’re pretty and easy to talk to and I just think it’d be nice?” He would have continued, but warm, slightly chapped lips were suddenly pressed against his, silencing whatever babbling ramble would have come out next.

It was nice, but something didn’t feel right. They pulled apart almost as quickly as they had come together.

“I don’t think that was right,” Erin said softly.

“No… Me either,” Chris agreed and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Are we… Did I fuck this all up?”

“No, Chris, you didn’t. We’re just not gonna kiss again,” she shrugged and went back to her notebook. “I figured that would happen.”

“What that I’d wanna kiss you or that we wouldn’t like it?”

“Little bit of both. And I don’t think you like-like me anyway. You’re too comfortable with me and when you like someone you act like an idiot. Like when you went out with that girl Andrea last year.”

The memory still burned. Clumsy kisses and shy hand-holding with Andrea crashed and burned when she found out he was a foster kid. Not a brand of heartbreak he was keen to experience again.

“And I take it you don’t like-like me either…”

“No, I don’t,” she agreed before her tone softened to barely above a whisper, “I don’t even think I like men…”

Stunned silence reigned as every thought process in Chris’ brain came to a screeching halt. He stared at her and Erin shrank in on herself as she waited for a reaction.

“No wonder you wanna get outta here,” Chris finally managed. When Erin’s head snapped up to stare at him, he offered up a weak smile. “Don’t worry… Your secret’s safe with me. Promise.”

“But… Why?”

“You’re still Erin? And I’m not exactly in the position to throw away my only friend over something like that.”

He wasn’t expecting the armful of Erin he suddenly had, nor was he really sure what to do. What he ultimately settled for was awkwardly patting her on the back. Before he really knew what he was saying, he added, “And you could always come to Boston with me. Boston marriages are a thing, right?”

So maybe he deserved that elbow to the ribs. And the muttered ‘jackass’ that followed. Not even for a second did he think that the following year, he’d be thrilled to have someone to commiserate with.

His name was Andrew and he was absolutely beautiful. Being sixteen and having enough hormones coursing through his system to strangle all sense from his brain, Chris spent a lot of time in class shooting the other boy longing looks that would have made Erin roll her eyes if she weren’t so busy making the same exact eyes at a new girl in their class named Emily.

“So I think I like men, too,” he announced one day during a study session.

“No shit, Sherlock. What was your first clue?” Erin countered without even glancing up from her history textbook.”You okay with it?”

“Yeah… I think so anyway. I know I can’t exactly tell anyone else. God, if I said anything to Bob or Annie, I’d be tossed out on my ass. Good thing I won’t be their problem in about a year and a half…”

Spending your whole life studying wasn’t too bad when the alternative was to be like some of his foster siblings. At least one of them spent his afternoons behind the dumpster at the local diner scoring whatever drug of the week he was on, and another was barely passing high school. The fourteen year old seemed to be on track to go into trade school in the future, but there was nothing wrong with that. He’d make more of himself than the others at least.

Another bonus was that even if his foster parents barely gave a shit about any of them, his teachers were acutely interested in his future. He kept his head down, did his work, busted his ass through science fairs and even went as far as to take a college class or two through the local community college his senior year. All to sit in Erin’s living room staring at the envelope in his hands, fingers shaking as he carefully ripped it open.

“Dear Mr. Pike… Thank you for your interest in the Massachusetts Institute of Technology’s astrophysics program. It’s our pleasure to inform you that you’ve been accepted… Holy shit, Erin I’m in!”

“You are! Chrissy that’s amazing!” She hugged him tightly, both grinning ear to ear before pulling back and picking up her own envelope from Wellesley. “Now it’s my turn… I’m… I’m in, too. We’re both going to Boston!”

The two of them laughed and hugged each other tightly. When they were done, each settled back onto the couch to read the details of their paperwork. Chris could barely focus on the words his eyes skimmed until he came to a later page. “Erin… I’m going in on full scholarship. Room, board, all that.”

“You’ve worked hard for it. C’mon, let’s fill all this out so we can send it back and keep our spots.”

The rest of the year was a blur. Nothing that happened down there seemed to matter to him unless it had to do with Erin and before they knew it, the two of them were packing up their belongings into Erin’s VW bus and preparing for a cross-country drive from Mojave to Boston. Erin’s parents seemed more at ease knowing Chris was going with their daughter.

“And you’ll call us when you get there?” Her mother asked anxiously.

“We’re stopping at a motel or two along the way and we’ll call you when we stop for gas,” Erin promised while Chris tossed the last of her stuff in. “And with Chris’ route, we should be there in about three days.”

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t drive us off the road, ma’am,” Chris adds, ignoring the dirty look Erin shot his way.

“Thank you, Chris. You two drive safe.”

The drive itself was dull. Music played over the radio and Chris spent most of their time on the road making sure they were following the route he’d plotted out. Any long stretch of highway was spent making plans for Boston.

“We’ll only be about half an hour away from each other, right? So we’ll meet up for homework and coffee? At least once a week, right?”

“At least,” Chris agreed. “And we can find a good library spot to claim.”

“Bookworm buddies unite! One day, when I’m a famous author and you’re the next Stephen Hawking, we’ll go back to Mojave and be superstars.”

“Why the hell would I ever go back to Mojave?”

“For me, mostly.”

“Assuming I don’t drive you away with my stunning personality between now and then, sure.”

If she rolled her eyes any harder, Chris was sure they’d come out of her skull. “If you haven’t driven me off in the last five years, I’m pretty sure you’re stuck with me, Chrissy.”

“You say that now.”

“I say that always.”

Boston was a whirlwind of activity once they got there. The first few weeks, they managed to break their promise to meet up. Chris’ program didn’t waste any time kicking his ass, and Erin almost immediately found herself suddenly the center of a lot of female attention (turned out those womens college rumors were accurate). They both had their hands full, but managed a phone call once a week.

Winter break found them bundled up in the corner of a cafe about halfway between their two campuses. Erin had her girlfriend McKenzie tucked into the booth beside her and Chris listened in entertained silence as the two of them regaled him with their chance meeting and Erin spent more than her fair share of time griping about her finals.

“What about you, Chrissy? Your finals go okay? You get any of your grades yet?”

He groaned and dropped his head to the table. “Even with your help, that literature class probably kicked my ass… I think I kept my grade up enough to keep my scholarship, though. Hopefully.”

“I’m sure you did. You sent me your final draft and I thought it was a pretty good read. About as good as can be expected from a physics student whose brain works faster than the mouth that has to trip along behind it.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

He ended up passing just fine and while Erin flew back home for Christmas, Chris stuck around in Boston. Spring semester started with three snowstorms, delaying the first day of all four of his classes until the second week. The extra time was spent getting ahead on the reading and his notes, hoping his professors would start from chapter one so it wouldn’t be time wasted.

That second week, he found a flyer in the library. Carl Sagan would be at Boston College the first week of February and MIT had a few tickets reserved. He made a beeline for the front desk and asked about securing himself one. No way in hell would he miss out on that presentation if he could help it and the second he had the stub in his hand, Chris raced back to his dorm to tuck it safely away in his physics book.

Now Chris wasn’t a vain man. He didn’t really have the luxury to be, but the day he was set to take the bus over to Chestnut Hill, Christopher Pike spent a solid half hour staring critically at his two button down shirts hanging in the tiny closet of his dorm. There ultimately wasn’t any real reason behind choosing the white shirt; it just seemed like the best choice. Chris shrugged it on and grabbed his wallet and keys on his way out the door.

Three hundred and thirty-eight acres is a maze when you’ve never set foot on the campus before. Chris grumbled to himself and stood in the courtyard as he tried to piece his way through figuring out where he needed to be. That process was interrupted rather rudely by someone else barreling into him.

“What the fuck?” He yelped while barely managing to keep from ending up on his ass. A second later, he was swearing up a storm as hot liquid seeped into the fabric of his shirt and burned his skin.

“Oh shit! God I’m so sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going!” If the guy wasn’t so cute, Chris probably would have decked him. “I’m really really sorry but I’m running late um… Here take my card and just call me later I promise I’ll pay to clean your shirt okay?”

Before Chris could even get a word out, the guy was off like a shot and he was left wondering if that had even happened. The still hot feeling of the coffee soaking into his shirt was the only proof he had that it was real. After he made his way into a bathroom and shucked off his white shirt, he debated what to do for about half a second then just stuffed the damn thing in the trash and zipped up the hoodie he wore under his coat to hide his bare chest.

He didn’t even think about the guy that ran into him until he was back home later that night. The card was tucked in his wallet with the name Philip Boyce and a phone number. From the caduceus on the card, Chris assumed this Phil must be a doctor or a med student at the college.

Would it be worth it to call the guy over a $2 shirt? He was pretty good looking from the brief glimpse Chris caught of him, so maybe he’d get lucky enough to learn he was into guys.

“Fuck it,” he muttered to himself and grabbed the phone. After a few rings, a voice answered on the other end. “Yeah, is this Philip Boyce? Um… My name is Chris. You, uh… You ran into me earlier? In the courtyard at Boston College?”

“Oh! Right. Yeah I’m really sorry about that I was late for class and the professor is a real stickler for punctuality. How much do I owe you for the shirt?”

“About that… I was thinking maybe… You could buy me a coffee sometime instead?”

“Absolutely! Wait… Do you mean like a date? Or just coffee?”

A quick beat passed where a million possibilities flew through Chris’ head at once. Would this guy be okay with it? Would Chris show up expecting a date and get jumped instead? “A… Whatever you wanna call it, I guess.”

“A date, then. I’m swamped this week, but what about next Saturday?”

“Sounds great. I… Guess I’ll see you then? Um… I don’t really know that area well I go to MIT so where should I meet you?”

“How about I go to you? There’s a cafe on campus, right? And probably about a dozen in spitting distance.”

“Yeah… I go to Forbes a lot. I could meet you there?” Chris offered, still not believing the turn the day was taking.

“I’ll meet you there at 3?”

“That’s… Yeah okay. 3. I’ll see you then.” The second the other line went dead, Chris dialed Erin’s number. “Erin? You’re not gonna believe what happened.”

Tagging: @auduna-druitt @pinkamour1588 @thefanficfaerie  @bookcaseninja @ravencourt @ussihavelovedthestarstoofondly @aishahiwatari @reading-in-moonlight @gracieminabox @its-life-jim @insane-sociopath @logicallythyla

[brushlesprouts]

Day 4 - Freeze

I appologize, this one got way out of hand. Hopefully you still enjoy.

Prompt: Freeze

Title: A Pilot is the Soul

At the Combat Robotics center in the big city, a crowd of photographers and important looking people in suits had arrived to witness the latest prototype in Fighter Robo being showcased that day. Investors from leading tech companies, as well as KFL fans, had gathered to see the fruits of their investments. As well as the return of a retired KFL Robo Pilot. One dapper gentleman known as Danny Fierce. He was one of the first humans who took his military combat robo rig and had it refurbished for KFL fights. 

His majestic partner stood at the entrance, proud as the day it was re-commissioned for the KFL. For his part, Danny walked up to an anxious-looking intern that was frantically looking around, clutching her clipboard and pen.

“Hey, excuse me. The email didn’t say where to go.” He said, slipping off his weathered cap and scratching his head, “Don’t suppose you could help with that?”

The intern gasped, “Oh thank goodness, we thought you got lost.” She clicked her pen and brought it to her mouth, “Mr. Fierce has arrived at the north entrance, I’ll take him to the briefing room.” The pen crackled some kind of response. She smiled and waved to him, “Follow me please.”

They slipped past the crowd and into the center. Passing by the posters and displays for the latest prototype. There were even some inside the elevator they rode to the top floor. Danny took note of one beside him. He muttered to himself.

“The Maverick mark two. Synthetic craftsmanship honed to its utmost potential? Pah,” He said shaking his head, “Just give me a rig and hold the synthetics.” He looked to his guide, she kept politely silent. 

The elevator opened up to a conference area. At the main podium, was the leader of the Combat Robo program. She waved to them.

“Yes yes, come in. Glad you could make it.” She said and gestured to a seat beside her. “For the guest of honor.”

Danny smiled and made his way past the other rows of tired-looking scientists and engineers. Some had let their chins dip to their chests and were snoring softly. When he arrived at the podium, he reached out to shake her hand.

“Danny Fierce, reporting for duty, Miss--”

“Doctor, actually,” She said, taking his hand, “Doctor Abigail Bishop.” She smiled and gave his hand a firm shake.

Danny smiled and nodded, “Got it,” He took his seat beside the podium, “Please continue.”

“Of course,” Doctor Bishop said. “Today is the big day team. We’ve put in the hours and now comes time to show it off to our eager investors. Right now, they are getting the VIP treatment and the awesome sizzle reel that our media team was nice enough to put together.” She said and motioned to a group seated in the back. They gave a weary cheer, the rest of the congregation applauded.

“And speaking of VIP treatment,” She said, “A round of applause for our very special guest, the renowned robo pilot Danny Fierce.” She clapped, others followed suit. Danny waved politely.

“We stand at a crossroads, my fellow creators,” She continued, “A new era is about to dawn. We have suffered through the setbacks and struggles of mark one, but with this, the mark two, we shall showcase the incredible might of Combat Robo development team!” She clicked a small remote and a projection shot up from the center of the room to showcase the specs and holographic design of the new robo rig. Supportive applause fluttered around the room.

Danny leaned forward.”Say, that’s pretty compact,” He said, “How is a pilot supposed to fit in there?”

Doctor Bishop smirked at him and clicked the remote again, “Oh no no, my archaic friend.” The image switched over to a spec readout, a highlighted phrase said, “Remote Operation and Autonomous Control modes”.

He leaned back, “Ah, I see.” He folded his arms and shook his head, “I dunno, you take the pilot out of the rig, the metal ain’t got no soul.” 

She wore a professional smile, the kind hewn from stone and salt that belies the teeth clenched behind tightly pressed lips. 

“Well, old man,” She said, “That’s what we are here to showcase.” She clicked the remote again. It brought up the specs of Danny’s rig, the Dandy Piston, and the not so flattering details. Including but not limited to a highlight phrase that said, “Unpredictable Human Error”.

“Oh, I get it now.” He said, a smile played across his face. He looked at her, “A friendly exhibition.”

She smiled, “Friendly, yes.”

The meeting dispersed and the crowds gathered at the research center’s KFL ring. Maverick Mk.2 was standing proudly inside the pristine ring. Carbon-fiberglass platting designed to look like an upright fighter jet with legs. Sleek, deadly, and super cool. 

Opposite the black and red rig was Dandy Piston, Danny’s faithful rig. The center was kind enough to get the cobwebs off of it before having it deposited into the ring. Danny stood on the staging balcony situated at what would be called the rig’s neck. Danny slipped into the last of his piloting gear, modeled after the aviators of old, all leather and insulating fur. The most high tech thing on his person, the headset the Doctor was nice enough to lend him, buzzed in his ear.

“Are you ready?” The voice was the anxious intern. 

“Just about.” Danny responded. He popped open the hatch and slipped his way down into the gyro cockpit. He sat back in the pilot seat, a wave of nostalgia washed over him.

“Hey there, you old fool, you remember me?” He ran his hands over the various levers and dials that made up his configuration. He took his time remembering each switch and the feel of the pedals under his feet. “Got another fight left in you?” 

He slipped his hand under the main console and triggered the startup command. The cockpit hummed to life, lights flickering on and gauges spinning to calibration. The music of the machine took Danny to a special place in his mind. A time of great battles, struggles, fear, and triumph. He smiled.

“Uh, are you ready, yet?” The anxious voice said in his ear.

Danny sighed, letting his shoulder slump. “Can’t let me have anything, can ya,” He muttered before adding, “Yeah yeah, we’re ready to rumble.”

Up in the command center, a host of the section leaders were gathered in front of various terminals, all whirring and beeping with up-to-date information of the condition of the Maverick. Doctor Bishop walked the rows, checking on last-minute adjustments.

“Matilda, Flick me the diagnostics. Marco, make sure the software is at its most recent patch, should be 11.5.1. Chell, no drinks at the terminals, please thank you. Juliette?” 

The anxious intern looked from her terminal, lifting an earphone from her headset, “Yes, Abby?” 

Abigail cleared her throat.

“Oh uh, I mean, Doctor Bishop? What is it?”

She smiled, “How is the fossil doing?”

Juliette looked back at her terminal and leaned into the microphone, “Uh, are you ready yet?” She paused and then nodded, “Okay, he said he’s ready.”

Doctor Bishop clapped her hands, “Wonderful, then let’s begin.” She dashed to the front of the command center and clicked her remote, a camera drone floated up to record her.

Out in the KFL ring, a robo announcer drone flew up to address the audience.

“Honorable guests one and all. Welcome to our demonstration exhibition match. Today, our latest creation, the remarkable Maverick mark two, will clash with one of the best robo pilots of the last generation, Danny Fierce. Please, enjoy the show.”

There came applause and cheering. A few of the gentlemen in suits who wore their graying hair in conservative styles, whooped and hollered the loudest, even starting a small chant for Danny.

The announcer drone floated up between the two competitors. 

“Are the fighters ready?” She said.

Danny rolled his shoulders and cranked his controls, Dandy Piston responded by pumping a fist in the air. 

“We’re ready to dance!” His voice cracked out of the rig’s megaphone.

Abigail looked across the command center, her eyes falling on Juliette. For her part, the nervous intern put on her game face and nodded.

“Well then,” Doctor Bishop’s voice boomed from the announcer drone. “Let’s BRAWL!”

The Maverick sprang to attention and charged at Piston. Metal clashed and sparks flew as the two massive battle robots exchanged blows. The audience roared with each heavy hit. Piston was a little sluggish at the start, taking a few hits that rattled Danny in his seat.

“Yeesh, at least dance with me a little before taking me back to the hotel room.” Danny grunted into the mic.

“S-sorry. Your simulation was a lot harder. Should I hold back a little?” Juliette said.

“Oh, so you got sass, huh?” Danny said. He grit his teeth and jammed a pedal. A kick flew up and caught Maverick in the chest, sending it staggering backwards. “Ha, how’d ya like the pepper on that?”

The sleek rig straightened up. Juliette came back on the line, “Actually, that should just about finish it.”

“Finish? But we were just getting warmed up,” Danny protested.

“What she means,” Doctor Bishop said, cutting into the channel, “Is she will no longer need to fight you.”

She looked around the command center, her team looking up to confirm.

“Matilda, good. Chell, excellent. Marco. Marco? How we looking?” She said.

The engineer was furiously typing at his terminal, “Uh, fine. Yeah, we’re fine. It’s fine.” He gave a thumbs up.

She smiled. “Finally.”

She clicked the remote again, her announcer doppelganger appeared before the crowd.

“Been enjoying the fight, KFL fans?”

Cheers came from the crowd.

“Because now it is time to show what the Maverick can really do! Time to switch to Autonomous mode!” She clicked her remote again.

The Maverick snapped to attention, its eyes changing color. Once a humming red, they became a pulsing green. It stood pensive opposite Piston.

Danny squinted at his display, watching the idle rig across from them. Moments drifted by before he chuckled into his mic, “So uh, is it supposed to be doing something?”

There was no response from the headset. Until a voice shrieked.

“Why are its eyes green?” Abigail shouted.

Her team was frantically typing at their terminals. Juliette smashed the buttons on her controller to no avail. Matilda was flipping through a dense tome of code. Chell scrolled through dense code on her terminal. Marco fought to deny eye-contact and keep a low profile. It did not go unnoticed.

“Marco?” She said, walking quickly to him, “Fine? It will be fine?” She asked, pulling him back away from the terminal. The screen said, “Latest patch, 10.9.1”. She stood up straight and took a deep breath.

“Are you telling me, our prized prototype is standing like a dead lump of metal in front of all our investors because it had a system crash?” She said, visibly shaking.

Marco opened and closed his mouth to say something a few times before Abigail heard laughing coming through her headset.

“Aw now, you can’t blame the poor rig.” He said, pushing down on a pedal to have Piston approach the stoic Maverick. “Everyone goes through it in their first fight.” He laughed, “The Freeze.”

He got within a robotic arm’s length. In the cockpit, Danny flipped open a panel that had a big red switch. He let a wide grin pass his face as he flipped the switch. The rig started to hum louder, charging, priming, getting ready. He pulled back a lever, Piston readied a balled fist.

Abigail snarled into the mic, “What are you doing?”

“Let’s see if a nice, hard reset will do the trick?” Danny said.

“Don’t you dare!” She cried out. But it was too late.

In the audience, when they saw Piston wind up, they went wild. They knew what was coming. It had been the signature move of the pilot and his rig back in his day. The crowd cheered as the massive metal fist slammed into the sleek rig’s chest plate, lifting it off the ground. Then, the deafening crash as the hydraulic piston built into its arm sent a massive shock wave rippling through the Maverick and knocking it up into the air, end over end, in a shower of sparks and shredded metal.

The advanced piece of tech landed in a heap on the ground at Dandy Piston’s feet. The crowd was on their feet, cheering for their hero.

Abigail stood in the command center, Marco had pushed his chair far away and now she was left standing alone. Her jaw was clenched as thoughts raced through her mind. The remote that connected her to the investors that had paid for their project was heavy in her hand. Her fingers slowly loosened and let it fall from her grip. 

It was caught by another pair of hands. Juliette smiled and put the remote back in her hand.

“Just another setback.” She said. “Like the mark one. Just think of how good the mark three will be with all this data.”

Abigail shook her head, “There might not be a mark three, not with that pathetic display.”

“I dunno,” Danny said, hollering through the headset, “Seems like my fans got one hellava show.” He laughed, “You tell them I am already on board for the rematch against Maverick mark three, and they’ll fall all over themselves to put money behind it.”

Abigail looked out the window to the ring, where Dandy Piston was striking heroic poses to a no doubt elated crowd. She looked back at Juliette, who patted the remote in her hand and returned to her terminal.

Doctor Bishop took a deep breath. “Minor setback folks,” She said to her team, “Now let’s go win em back.” She clicked the remote.

The folks in nice suits were stepped back into their fancy cars, smiles all around. Danny waved to them as they went off. Juliette stood beside him.

“So, the soul in the metal?” She asked, “Is that how you won your fights?”

Danny looked at her and laughed, “No, I won most of them by being a little stubborn and a lot of lucky. I just wanted to bitch at your boss a bit.” He stroked his chin and looked up at Dandy Piston as it was being loaded into a transport. “But maybe--.” He shook his head, “Bah, I’m gettin old. Come get me when you need a rusty pilot to wrestle with your latest rig.”

He headed off to his ride. Juliette finished taking her notes and hurried back inside. As the new full-time assistant for Doctor Bishop, she would be very busy.