#snip snip sleeves all gone

[iucemon]

LITERALLY TRUE^

[princess-of-the-corner]

Fic Snip - MLB Season 5 Finale Rewrite Because I Hate This Show

“I Missed you!”  Tikki said, hugging the other kwami.  “Even before this fiasco we were so worried.  After Feast-”

“Don’t mention that disgusting thing.”  Duusu hissed.  “No soul in it whatsoever, I’m happy it’s gone and if I ever see that boy again I’ll slap him.”

“What makes a senti monster have a soul or not?”  Marrinette asked.

“If a weilder intends to make a person, a person who is meant to feel and live then it will have a soul.  Feast was only meant to eat and find food, there was no soul in it at all.”  Duusu said primly.

“So Sentibug…”  She looked down.

The blue kwami looked down.  “I’m sorry.  I was broken, and didn’t think to tell Mayura such things.”

Felix had stood and brushed himself off, removing a piece of thread from his sleeve.  “I didn’t understand this when we first met either.  I thought you were recklessly killing people like me, now I understand you were both unaware, and not doing so at all.”

“I didn’t save Sentibug though, I don’t know if SentiBubbler had a soul, but I feel bad either way.”  She said looking down.

GOD

Both addressing the 'only some Sentis are Sapient' /and/ letting Marinette feel bad for the ones that are? The bare minimum we didn't get from canon!

[gritsandbrits]

So how;s adam and eve reunion gotta be ? it's must be full with drama

"So this is what youve been up to all these centuries?" Adam remarked, taking note of Eve's outfit. 

Gone were the elegant blue, pink and white robes that denoted her as his Other. Now she wore overalls and a plain gray shirt. A leather ultility belt hung around her hips. Her hair, once a luscious river of brown, was cut shorter and braided. 

"If youre here to take back there the answer is no," replied the brunette.

Hm. it seems looks werent the only thing that changed about Eve.

"I'm not here to take you back, Im just wanted to know how youve been," said Adam. Hs lips formed a sly grin. 

"Though if you want to, I can convince Sera to-"

"You will convince nobody, Im through with that place."  Eve's voice sharpened some more. 

Adam was taken aback. The audacity of this woman he grumbled internally. He didnt know what to think! He was so used to her soft, demure mannerisms. She never raised her voice at anyine not when the kids were acting up, and definitely not at him. 

What changed? 

Adam glanced over at his sweet wittle Abel, who only stood awkwardly at the unexpected family reunion.

Of course, if he played his cards right then Eve would be back by his side by the night's end. She would do anything for their real kids!

But then he remembered Kané. He had told her to hide, that he would not reveal her until he could persuade Eve to hear him out. 

Charlie felt it wasnt her place to interrupt. She didnt know what to say. But she did know Adam had a trick of his sleeve. So she sent him a warning glare, daring him to mess up.

"Ooh this is better than a soap opera," Angel Dust whispered excitedly as he cradeled Phat Nuggets. He was enjoying the mayhem unfolding.

"Normally I wouldnt care about Adam but I'm bored," Veggie replied with equal interest. Even back in her exterminator days it was no secret how Adam treated Eve. He never defended her when other angels scorned & looked down at her, so when news of her disappearance reached her ears, Veggie was not surprised. 

Besides, he had this coming a LONG while. She was glad to have a front row seat at the day of reckoning. 

Husk simply took out his flask. This was going to be a long night. 

All the while Kané stood in her hiding spot behind the cacti. She could see the resemeblance between her mama and Eve, even with obvious differences there was no doubt the First Woman Ever was their grandmother. The way she presented herself caused a wave of comfort for the girl, as if she could trust her with her deepest, darkest secrets. 

Adam was not moved. He didnt expect his wife, his soulmate to reject him like that.

"Now look after everything we've been through, you dont want to be in paradise? We worked hard for it, Evie! You deserve to stay here."

Eve crossed her arms. Adam began to sweat. He really wished he had his mask. 

"I mean, not here in this shitstain or Earth, but up there", he pointed up at the ceiling. "Please Evie, come back to us. We miss you, the rest of the brood miss you."

That part was genuine. He really did miss her. He hated that the one chance at being together again was slipping through his fingers. Lilith was probably cheering somewhere at this update.

Eve shuddered at the pet name. She loathed him for pulling that out, and loathed herself for nearly buying that. Centuries apart and he still managed to makr her weak in the knees.

But she had to keep going! Evelyn Lambert worked too far and too hard to succumb back to that demure helpless trophy everyone expected her to be.

"No. You dont get to call me that! You knew how they treated me and did nothing to stop it! All they did was insult and belittle me, you were my husband and supposed to protect me!" She pointed an accusatory finger at him. 

"Well what did you expect me to do punch every angel who ever looked at us funny? That's not exactly holy behavior," chided Adam. 

"Oh you are a real piece of work my love," Eve snipped. "Like we're all supoosed to ignore that you went off on a mad crusade because you were too spineless to admit all of us are capable of sin? You didnt even think twice that doing so would cause a war!"

Adam winced. He hadn't thought of that. But no matter! There was no war and a mere instance of hell figthing back didn't erase countless years of victories his extermination squad achieved.

"Hey a war wouldn't be possible anyways because look at them! We are much more stronger, they just got lucky," boasted the First Man. 

"And they cheated! That fucking thing stabbed me in the back!" He pointed at Nifty, who could only reply with a satisfied grin. 

"An unnarmed man! And left his kids without both parents!" Adam continued, hoping his put-on was enough to soothe his beloved' heart. 

Abel cupped his face and sighed. Even during a serious moment his fayher loved being a drama king. It was such a common put-on Abel could smell it a mile away. 

Unknown to him, Kané shared the same sentiment. She pinched her nose, wasn't Adam's arrogance the reason why he was in hell in the first place? Why is he regressing all of a sudden? She held her tongue.

Eve gritted her teeth. God, she was so done with her ex's mind games!

As if somebody left the window opened a cold wind blasted through the room. Everyone tensed, Vaggie and Angel ready to move in case things got uglier.

"Talk about hell hath no fury," muttered Kané shrinking hwrself further away. Whisps of curls flew about Eve's face, her eyes glowing even more purple with a protective fury.

Charlie tugged her jacket tightly, her drealocks blowing around her face.  She watched as Eve posed herself straighter. She swore she could see the faint outlines of butterfly wings on the woman.

Before Adam could say anything else (preferably HIDE), Abel finally stepped in and placed comforting hands on his mom's shoulders. He spoke to her in a language Kané couldnt ubdertand. It seemed to calm her down as the wind stopped blowing and the room temp returned to normal. 

"Come on, Let's all sit down and discuss this like real adults." Abel directed that last part at his dad.

"I believe this matter also concerns you Your Highness," he addressed Charlie. 

"Hopefully we can get all this sorted out peacefully," the hell princess spoke. She was ready to intervened one she felt that wind. She wouldnt let anyone get hurt, especially at Adam's hand. 

Shrugging, Adam went over to the table, as Eve Abel and Charlie sat down. The older brunette took a place on the opposite end but still kept her violet eyes on Adam. She had a good mind to throw a wrench at his stupid smexy face. 

Kané still watched as her family began to convers, interspersed with bits of Angel Dust's disappointment at the lackluster resolution. 

For some reason she couldnt muster the courage to step out. Was it fear? Eve would probably hate her if she found out she was Cain's grandkid. 

Suddenly she felt something tugging at the bottom of her jacket. She turned to see a little purple lamb nibbling at her. 

"Hey hey hey shoo shoo!" She spoke as loudly as she could to not give away her position. The lamb was too entranced by the flavor of unwashed polyester. Kané tried to pushed it away but some how she tripped.

"Gah! Fuck!" 

The poor girl fell forward, causing everyone to turn her away. The mischievous scampered off with its prize, a piece of green cloth. 

The four royals got up to see the irritated girl laying on the floor. Eve and Abel could only gape as Charlie rushed over the help her.

Adam froze.

The jig was up.

[theyareweird]

Kianna in Wonderland - Part 1

A Wonderland

Kianna opened her eyes and was greeted by a bright blue sky. It was partly cloudy. Various twisted tree branches could be been on the edges of her field of vision. When Kianna sat up, her amber eyes scanned her surroundings. She was in a thick forested area, but the trees bent and twisted in peculiar ways. In addition, the leaves were unusual colors. Some were pink, others were blue. Meanwhile, some trees contained purple leaves. The grass underneath Kianna was a vibrant green.

When Kianna stood up, she realized her attire had changed. Instead of a nightgown, she was dawning a mostly blue-gray colored Lolita dress with a white corset. Kianna then brished off the fuffled skirt to see the black and white stripped sleeves matched her tights. When she turned around, a big blue-gray bow was tied to her back. It was almost as wide as her skirt.

She petite girl frowned. Kianna could have sworn she had gone to bed. She didn't know how she ended up in the middle of nowhere. Before Kianna could decide on where to go, a tall figure with light orange hair suddenly approached her from the woods. This young man was dressed in black slacks and a matching waistcoat. His tall, white rabbit ears stuck out from his traditional tophat.

"Can I ask how I woke up here"? Kianna questioned with pursed lips.

Despite the orange-haired figure's weird appearance, he wore a frown on his face. His burnt-orange eyes stared down at Kianna with worry. "I don't know... And I don't care". The young man snipped in dismissal. He then snatched a gold pocket watch hanging off a chain from his waistcoat and held it up in the palm of his white gloved hand. Glancing at the time, the adolescent heavily sighed. "My name is Akatsuki... Now, you’re going to be late to the royal tea party if you don't hurry up". He said in a huff. With a flick of his wrist, Akatsuki tucked his watch into the pocket of his waistcoat.

Kianna's eyes then glazed over in thought. This guy reminded her of The White Rabbit, from the 'Alice in Wonderland' book. Kianna then recalled how she flipped through an old, but favored, picture book from her childhood before falling asleep in bed. It all made sense now. Kianna concluded she must be dreaming. If this was the case, she could do whatever she wanted in her dream.

"If the Cheshire Cat isn't coming, then I have no reason to go". Kianna stated. The cat was her favorite character and she was determined to spend some time with the kitty. "Bye-bye". Kianna dismissed, waving the White Rabbit off.

Akatsuki wasn't ammused and tiredly groaned in response. "Of course he'll be there". He stated in a matter-of-fact tone. "The King of Hearts expects all his subjects to be in attendance to please his beloved Queen". Akatsuki stated. "Let’s go. I don't intend on being beheaded". He snapped. Akatsuki then turned around to reveal his cotton tail and silently walked back in the direction he came.

Kianna was taken back by Akatsuki's last words. She wasn't expecting the king to be the feared ruler. Regardless, this white rabbit meant what he said because he didn't bother looking over his shoulder to check if Kianna was following him. Due to this, the short girl decided to follow closely behind him. As she walked in her Mary Jane shoes, Kianna's curious eyes attempted to take in her environment. Her line of sight then landed on some peculiar stones surrounded by tattered cloth. Furrowing her brow, Kianna stopped and leaned down to inspect the stones further. Looking closer, Kianna's eyes widened upon realization. The supposed stones were the skeletal remains of a person. Someone was left to rot here.

Meanwhile, a pair of blue-gray eyes watched the two individuals make their way through the woods. The slit-pupils dilated with intrest. "So, am I going to have to kill this Alice, too"? A bored groan echoed. Although this person didn't show it, this little Alice seemed to peek their intrest. This one looked different from all the previous Alices. Rather than be tall and busty, this Alice appeared to be five-two in height. Her chest was also flat. If anything, the differences were interesting because her overall appearance was similarly striking to a doll. It was cute.

Boxed-in by tall hedges, a dignified man sat in a red throne at the head of a long table. His black dress shirt was left with two of the holes unbuttoned to reveal his chest. "I doubt that". The brown-haired man replied. "I have a feeling this Alice will entertain you". He reassured.

Beside the man, was a young lady. She sat in a throne wearing a red and black dress with golden heart lace embroidery. Her long hair matched the young man's shoulder-length hair beside her. Although the pair were in another location, they could clearly communicate with the mysterious figure watching Akatsuki and Kianna in the woods.

"I guess we'll see, Your Majesty". The unknown voice replied through a heavy sigh.

"Give this Alice a chance. She could make you happy". The young lady begged. Her mahogany eyes were filled with concern.

The dignified man then stretched out his large hand to the young lady beside him and began stroking her cheek to soothe her worry. "Don’t fret, my Queen. Smile... Alice is almost here". He cooed. Unlike his lovely wife, the King of Hearts sat cross-legged as he relaxed in his chair.

At the same table, a rugged March Hare sat slumped in his chair. It was obvious the royal couple were having a private discussion with their relative inside their minds, but he found it a bit annoying he couldn't be part of the full conversation. All he knew was half the dialogue the King and Queen of Hearts were saying out loud in response. Of course, they didn't need to do that. They could respond telepathically. Perhaps the couple simply forgot they didn't need to speak out loud.

"Why bother seeing another Alice"? The blonde March Hair whined. "She’s just going to be as boring and annoying as all the others. She won't please the King's cousin. None of them will". He grumbled.

The Queen then turned her attention onto the March Hair. "You don't know that, Hanabusa. This one could be different. Besides, some of them were fun"! She smiled at the fond memories. "I doubt all Alices will go insane or escape". The Queen argued.

"Sure..." The King replied. Unfortunately, his beloved Queen had no memories of all the Alices being brutality murdered. The King insisted on erasing her memories himself and all the subjects were happy to play dumb. It was a funny game to them.

A mouse then rose up out from inside a pink teapot. The glass lid balanced on top of her head as she spoke. "Not all of them died... One escaped, Takuma." The mouse tiredly yawned.

Across the March Hair was another blonde young man. His large green hat matched his shining eyes and tailor-like attire. "Oh, Rima, you're such a joy"! He giggled. Takuma then slapped his hand on top of the lid, forcefully pushing the mouse back inside her teapot.

Hanabusa tore his blue eyes away from the Queen in shame. "I'm sorry, Lady Yuki". He bowed. "I spoke out of tern".

"Now, now..." Takuma tisked. "Let's try to be positive! I always enjoy new tea party guests"! He beamed with a smile.

Meanwhile, in the forest, Kianna's breath caught in her throat. Unfortunately, she didn't have time to process the discovery of someone's corpse.

"Hurry up"! Akatsuki's voice bellowed out from ahead.

Kianna then quickly darted up to Akatsuki down the forested path. After a few minutes, the rabbit man came to a keyhole shapped shrub at the end of the woods. He stopped, steped aside and gestured for Kianna to walk through it. As Kianna timidly approached the entrance, Akatsuki graciously bowed and said "Announcing the long-awaited Alice".

Kianna haulted at Akatsuki's words. Her name wasn't Alice. Like a deer in the headlights, Kianna froze on the spot. Everyone's eyes were suddenly on her.

While everyone's attention was averted elsewhere, a cat-like figure suddenly appeared in the tree looming over the tea setting. A red-headed young man layed in the tree across one of the thick branches. His expression was blank as his red tail swished playfully. With one detatched hand, he lifted the lid to the top of a pink teapot. Rima, the mouse, was dangling at the bottom of the lid from a string. Usibg his other hand, the young man pinched Rima's tail in between his fingers and ripped her away from the lid. The lid clattered shut atop the teapot as the young man's hands returned to his body.

"Let me go, Senri"! Rima squeaked.

Senri rolled his eyes at Rima's protest. She should know by now she's his one source of entertainment. "Play with me until Alice arives". Senri sighed. From there, the cat proceeded to toss the mouse in between his palms, like a ball.

Akatsuki's eyes narrowed. Not everyone had heard his announcement. "Announcing the highly-anticipated Alice"! He emphasized. Despite Akatsuki's attempt, Senri proceeded to play with Rima. "Why do I bother"? He grumbled. Akatsuki then shrugged and went to his seat at the table.

Rima, hearing Akatsuki, looked up across the garden. "Uh? It's Alice"! She squeaked. With that, Rima rushed diwn the tree and back onto the table.

"Alice," The King called. "Come introduce yourself". He said, curling his fingers towards himself.

A young woman with wavy waist-length, toffee-colored hair then stepped forward. She stood proudly beside the king. "Do as King Kaname commands". The young lady said sternly.

Kaname then turned his head to the side and said "Ruka, at ease". At his word, the girl a red heart armor relaxed.

A silver-haired young man then impatiently crossed his arms. He stood in black ace armor beside Queen Yuki's throne. "It'll be easier on all of us if you just do it". The young man mumbled.

"Zero, be nice". Yuki scolded.

Senri then looked over at the petite girl. "Hopefully this little Alice isn't annoying". He muttered to himself.

Yuki immediately grinned from her throne. "Hi! Come sit with us"! She excitedly greeted.

Kianna was confused. She didn't want to be rude, but she couldn't properly introduce herself if these people were mistaking her for someone else. Kianna didn't know what to say. For now, she thought it was best to join the table and avoid making anyone upset. Kianna then approached the long table filled with food and multiple tea settings. Sitting down in a plush armchair, she looked over the various treats and beverages at the table. Petite Fours, Macaroons and cake-pops were only a few of the foods offered at the party. Kianna couldn't believe her eyes. All this food made her completely forget about the corpse in the forest.

Surprise: @nunezs-stuff

[kaseyskat]

as soon as the episode ended i knew immediately what i wanted from next episode: and while it might not happen, i have hopes? and i think it'd be fun. anyways i have other projects i don't want to continue this so enjoy! (dndads s2ep30 spoilers)

~~

For all of his life, Normal’s been jealous of his sister. 

He never wanted to admit it. He thought maybe, just maybe, he could earn a fun nickname or… or something from his parents if he were just popular enough, or well-liked. He figured he must’ve done something crazy horrible when he was born for his parents to name him Normally, but its not like he really minded the name so much… only when it was featured in smaller print alongside Hero on family photos. 

And it’s not like Hero gloated about it or anything – in fact, sometimes she seemed just as grumpy about their unusual naming conventions as Normal himself was – but Normal remembers when Uncle Lark would take Hero out on trips around the city and his dad usually accompanied them and Normal loves his mom so much but he can’t deny that part of him had always felt so… left behind. 

Now, he knows the truth: he was right to be jealous of Hero. She was special– and she was planned to be that way. No wonder Normal couldn’t make his father proud of him, there was probably nothing he could do. Not when he was a mistake. An accident. Unwanted. 

With how much of his plans have gone awry since they started this entire mess, and with how Scary fights and Link snaps and Taylor bickers… and with all that he’s learned, Normal is tired. 

(What’s the point in having a loving family if they only love you by necessity? 

How can be be sure that, if given another chance, they’d still have him, welcome him into their lives? 

What is the point of friendship if nobody trusts him and nobody listens to him? 

And, better yet, why bother trying to do the right thing if it always, always goes wrong). 

Suggesting his place as a hangout spot had been a distraction. He wanted to take a chance to see his mom, of course, but also if his sister really is the Chosen One, his house would probably be the safest place to drop off the others in his group. His plan would, unfortunately, require him to lie; or, at the very least, to act his pants off to convince the others that he was going to stay with them, but… 

…well, what else could he do? 

He couldn’t bring the others with him to the next anchor. That, Normal’s known since Scary convinced Link that the easiest way to help people would be via breaking the anchors with hate– surely, surely, they’d question it, but nobody did. Nobody did, and now Normal can’t trust them, and… and he might not be special in the way he had always wanted to be, but he still owes it to the Doodler, to himself, to break the other anchors in peace. 

And it’s not like they notice. Normal winces when Scary casts fireball – that’s his house she’s about to burn down with her overleveled magic – but he’s already committed himself, and with a quick silent apology to Taylor and Link, he slips off into the living room, where Hermie is leaning against a wall, eyebrows quirked. 

“Oh, now you notice that I’m here,” Hermie snips, eyes narrowed in a way that has Normal want to bury himself into the ground and never get up again. “About time–” 

“-I’m really sorry, Hermie, I just… I needed the others to forget about you, so I kinda ignored you on purpose this time,” Normal admits, staring at the ground. “I had to make sure they didn’t hear you.” 

Hermie doesn’t say anything– when Normal finally glances back up at him, his lips are all pursed together, and he’s tapping his foot like the explanation is still not quite enough– which, fair. 

“You said you know how to go to the goofs realm yourself,” Normal elaborates, and he tugs at his sleeves, wondering mildly if his own heartbreak is still written all over his face. “I… I can’t trust the others anymore, but I’m really, really hoping I can still trust you. And we can go together.” 

“Wow, Normal, that’s…” Hermie pauses, and then, to Normal’s surprise, he grins. “Devious. Tricking the others like that… so that you could have me all to yourself… I can respect that.” 

At the phrase all to yourself, Normal finds himself involuntarily flushing a bright red. 

“If I help you, you can never pull something like that on me ever again though, got it?” Hermie sticks a finger directly in Normal’s face, and Normal can’t help the shuddered breath he takes– he’s sure that his panic is very, very visible, much to his own embarrassment. “You’re asking a lot of me, leaving my uncle behind like this.” 

“I’m pretty sure Taylor is your nephew, not your uncle,” Normal points out. 

Hermie only shrugs. “Same difference. You’re lucky you’re cute and I want to meet my other father. And… maybe it will help, having you there. Like you were with… Jodie.” 

Right. Because that went so well. Normal grimaces. “I promise,” he says, “I won’t forget about you again. I don’t want to.” 

“Good boy,” Hermie croons, and in one swift move, he draws from one of the pockets in his trousers, revealing his phone. “Okay, so. I’ve been getting these text messages ever since we landed in Hell.” 

Normal hears shouting from the other room. It’s getting hot– they don’t have much time. Gritting his teeth, he peers over Hermie’s hands, glancing down at the screen as Hermie navigates to his message history; a string of random numbers and various messages. 

(909-855-5152): ARE YOU AND YOUR LOVED ONES IN IMMEDIATE DANGER? CONTACT US FOR FULL PROTECTION 

(909-502-2328): HOT NEW SALE ON WEAPONS! CALL US NOW!!! 

(909-764-8574): HURTING? DR. NOT ME HAS THE PERFECT CURE FOR YOUR AILMENTS! CLICK THE LINK FOR MORE INFO: 

“I can’t be sure, but… I just have a feeling I could probably contact… whoever is sending these,” Hermie says as Normal reads over his shoulder. “It’s kind of more of a hunch, but… I have strong feelings about it.” 

“I…” Normal hesitates. He wants to say that he trusts Hermie. Really, really! He does! But as he glances behind him warily again – as he remembers how Link and Scary both hadn’t trusted him, betraying him time and time again, the way he had just been shattered and hardly anyone seemed to care. 

But Hermie had cared. And he had been angry at Normal’s own negligence, and… 

“I trust you,” he finally finishes, and despite himself, he clutches at Hermie’s hands, taking comfort in the warmth; he’s always been someone grounded by touch, and especially now when he doesn’t have anyone else. “But we should hurry.” 

“Right.” Hermie glances down at where Normal’s hands cling to his own, but if he thinks anything of it, he doesn’t say so. Instead, he clicks one of the messages, and, with shaky fingers, hits the green call button. 

For a moment, the phone rings and rings and rings and the house is growing warmer and warmer and from somewhere, Link shouts… something, and if Normal concentrates hard enough he could hear Taylor too yelling, and it takes more effort than he’d like to tune it all out, but if he thinks too hard about what he’s doing he’ll stop, and he can’t stop, not now, not when– –the receiver clicks. Hermie inhales, and Normal holds his breath as they peer at the screen. 

“Oh my, who could it be? You’ve reached none other than Scam Actually!” a voice says cheerily, and Normal exhales in a giddy rush of relief. Besides him, Hermie has gone pale again; like he hadn’t actually expected this to work. “To whom do I owe the pleasure?” 

Normal gently nudges Hermie. “Talk to him,” he whispers, and gives the most encouraging thumbs up he can muster. 

Hermie nods, and he too sighs, his hands shaking. “Scam,” he greets, “it is… Hermie. I believe you are my father.” 

“...oh, how delightful!” 

“And this number promised me… safety if I reach out. So this is me reaching out?” Hermie glances at Normal, and for the first time since Hell, Normal watches as the unfaltering confidence Hermie has all the time falters– for a moment, he just looks like Normal, the feelings of being unwanted and discarded there in his eyes, and Normal frowns. 

“I see, I see. Oh my, what a curious situation you’ve gotten yourself into… oh I must know more. Come along!” 

Next to them, a swirling portal rips through the air, shining yellow and glittering. More colors swirl inside the vortex, and it looks… creepy, but no more dangerous than the portal to Hell, and as Hermie tucks his phone back into his pocket, they both stare at the portal for a moment. 

“Ready?” Normal asks, and he slips his hand into Hermie’s own, squeezing it for good measure. 

“Yeah,” Hermie nods, and he squeezes back. 

And then – as the rest of the household remains oblivious – they step through together, hand in hand.

[aurorafandomblog]

12) Mending

Tsuru spent the better part of the night just to ensure she found the exact shade of red for the exact thread weight of the exact material the cloak was made of- and then again for the borders of the red clouds- and then again for the black thread of the background the clouds lay upon.

Then she had to carefully snip away the uneven tears to something she can actually work with. After which, she then had to find the right fine sized needle for both the thread and the weave- and its here she realized that there is a layer between the outer cloak and the inner cloak. She frowned at that and had to go searching for the right material. She wants the repair to be flawless, as if there was never a tear to begin with, and to do that, the mended tear needs to have the same thickness as the rest of the cloak.

Then she began to sink time and care into re-weaving the fabric she had lovingly made three years ago. The minutes and hours tick by as Tsuru focuses intently on the task at hand.

Come morning, Tsuru wakes up with a start to the sound of knocking on her shop door. She takes a deep breath and briefly stretches before looking down and the mended cloak in her hands. With a soft smile, she fold the cloak over her arm and walks over to open the door.

"Kisame- Itachi." She bows to them in greeting and lets them in. "I trust you've slept well?"

They both give a nod of confirmation.

"Good," she answers with a tired smile. She looks over at Kisame. "I've finished mending your cloak." She hands it over to him and he examines it briefly.

"Thanks," Kisame answers, unceremoniously putting his cloak back on.

Tsuru stares at Kisame for a moment longer than she ought to have, her professional demeanor having not booted up yet. I spent hours working on making that look perfect and all he does is spare it a glance and a simple thanks? But Tsuru managed to keep those thoughts to herself.

"You are very skilled," Itachi comments, making Tsuru glance over in mild surprise. "You can't even see where it was torn."

Kisame glances over at Itachi and then raises his arm to examine his sleeve more closely. "He's right."

Tsuru beams under the acknowledgement for her hard work. "I wanted to make it look and feel as good as new," she explains.

"What do we owe you?" Itachi asks.

Tsuru shakes her head with a smile. "Nothing at all. Mending is free for you running my errands."

Kisame raises his brow at that. "Free?"

Tsuru nods affirmatively. "Yes. Any of you acting as my merchants will get free mending."

Kisame starts to laugh and Itachi gives him one of his stoic glares.

"....Whats so funny?"

"You have no idea how badly we need that. Especially Hid-"

"Kisame," Itachi interrupts with a stern tone.

Kisame smirks and puts up his hands as if in surrender. "Fine. I'll be outside waiting."

Itachi and Tsuru both watch in silence as Kisame walks out the door, the bells jingling in his wake.

"Do not mind my partner," Itachi says.

Tsuru looks over to Itachi- and is struck by the unexpected softened lines on his face. She starts to smile before glancing down in somber thought. "Does this mean you are leaving now, then?"

"Yes." He takes a half step towards the door. "Nishimura Tsuru."

She glances back up to meet his eye.

"The question you asked last time."

Tsuru blinks.

"Her name is Hattori Maori."

She opens her mouth in attempt to respond, only to find Itachi already gone. All that remains as evidence he was even here is the soft jingle of the bells on her shop door.

master list

@theheirofthesharingan

[bonus]

[twinsunstars]

Thoughts on Ahsoka Episode 4 - Fallen Jedi - A Discussion Post

Luckily, this week's episode was a bit longer than last week's, and there was a lot that shocked us. Let's go explore!

Hera defies orders and leaves with Jacen, Chopper, and a few pilots to help Ahsoka and Sabine fight. Nothing will stop her from helping her family, and having a chance to find Ezra and stop Thrawn from starting another war.

Sabine faces off with Shin, and Ahsoka faces off with Marrok. Marrok had kept Ahsoka busy with his blade, but it didn't last very long. I don't think anyone expected Marrok to turn into dust once he was struck with the lightsaber. They really got us thinking with all those theories about him being Ezra only for him to turn into dust and die. Sabine fights as a Mandalorian with her gadgets, but once the helmet is thrown off, she grabs her lightsaber and fights with all her strength. Shin tells Sabine "You have no power", but that doesn't stop a Mandalorian like her.

Ahsoka meets Baylan face-to-face, who states that "Anakin spoke highly of you." I love the fact that Baylan has met Anakin and he talked about Ahsoka to him. (Anakin loved his padawan so much it hurts.) The two engage in a graceful yet forceful fight.

Sabine watches Ahsoka fight with Baylan, which ends in Ahsoka falling off the cliff. Sabine gets angered and is ready to destroy the map with her blaster, but Baylan had a few manipulating tricks up his sleeve. He brings up Clan Wren, who has apparently died back on Mandalore. This was truly a shocker, and I want to know what happened on Mandalore that led her family to die. Sabine is alone, no one there to hold her back from making the wrong decision. But she has the chance of finding another one of her family again, and she does not want to give it up. I loved Natasha's facial expression in this scene; Sabine knows it's wrong, but it's the only way to get Ezra back home. At the end, Baylan destroys the map with his lightsaber, ensuring that no one else finds the coordinates.

The Eye of Sion spent the episode calculating coordinates and getting the hyperdrives ready for departure. At the end, with Sabine captured, Morgan and her crew descend into hyperspace, ready to find Thrawn in the other galaxy. They leave Huyang behind, alone and clueless to where his friends have gone. Sabine's helmet lays in the grass, left behind.

Hera and Jacen watched the Eye of Sion launch into hyperspace, destroying a few X-wings in the process. Hera manages to get the Ghost stable, and Jacen tells her he has a "bad feeling". If Jacen, the son of Kanan Jarrus, knows something's wrong, then something's wrong. Hera has this look of fear on her, potentially feeling that something isn't right either. She has no idea what has happened to Ahsoka, and where Sabine has gone.

Ahsoka wakes up in the World Between Worlds, a setting that was first and last seen in Rebels when Ezra had pulled her out. She stands, wondering how she got here. All of a sudden, she hears two words: "Hello, Snips." She turns to see her master, Anakin Skywalker, standing in front of her with a smile. I am so happy of how Hayden Christensen has come so far as Anakin Skywalker, coming back for Kenobi and being loved by all the fans. He truly deserves everything.

This week's episode really got me thinking critically and dropping my mouth open in shock. I am really excited for next week's episode, as Dave Filoni has directed it. It is now likely that Ezra may come home next week and we could see Thrawn, but still not trying to get my hopes up too much. Just in case, let's be ready to celebrate.

[yanverse]

Knockout

a/n: i couldn't remember if I'd posted this or not, so perhaps this is a repost with some tweaks--but here's a little snip of some background fic for those who like the character development ish! <3

(cws: kaito pov, non-reader insert, slutshaming violence, blood, mention of broken bones, a smidge of ooe siblings family history, the start of the kaito-ebbi rivalry)

word count: 1k

Like I'd ever work with a whore like that.

The words had burned into him from their place on the screen the first time he read them. He didn't like to consider himself an angry person anymore, in fact he liked to think of himself as being rather laid back and relaxed for the most part, at least when his anxiety wasn't creeping up on him. He'd done plenty of work to get to that point.

But this was different. He couldn't fathom the idea of Umi being talked about in such a light, at least in a serious way that was aside from all the things they did on their live streams, which he remained blissfully ignorant of. And people had been agreeing with that twat of a photographer, comments and posts popping up nonstop to gossip about his sibling's questionable sexual history ad nauseam--the same person that had tucked him into bed and put food on the table since he was nine years old, the person who worked themselves to the bone to make sure he had everything he needed. Umi had even bought him his first sketchbook, his first set of paints, his first art lesson and all the ones after, and never asked for anything in return even when they had to humiliate themselves to get it for him. They sent him to college, scraped and saved and stole for years to give him the chance to go to art school of all things--a prospect his father had laughed at--and gave up everything he knew they wanted so that he'd get to live his dream.

After mom was gone, and after dad gave up on being their dad, Umi was mom and dad and not once did they ever let slip a complaint, a sigh, or even a scowl. They were still his best friend, and they still smiled even when they were dying inside just to make sure their little brother was safe and happy. Kaito knew how much they loved him even when he was the opposite of loveable, and for that he could never see his older sibling as anything less than a superhero. Anybody who didn't think the same just didn't know Umi–or they were just jealous of how incredible they are.

Nobody knew Umi like he did, and neither did that dickhead that was minding his own business as he looked at some seller's display, totally unaware of his victim standing six feet away and tugging on Kaito's sleeve to get him to walk in the opposite direction. How unfortunate that the one time Umi got him to leave his apartment to visit the farmer's market in the park, he honed in on the piece of shit that shamed his best friend and hurt the only person he's ever been able to rely on.

Well, unfortunate for him. Because Kaito's feet worked faster than his brain as they often did, and by the time he reared his arm back, a pair of mismatched green eyes had just turned to meet his own.

A sickening crack resounded in the soft chatter of the market, which only died down for a moment at the collective sight of the blond staggering back from the punch, his hands over his nose that had already started gushing blood. Kaito had never really hit anyone before, mostly had just broken stuff or punched walls, but evidently it didn't take much to break someone's nose when they were caught off guard. The favour was already being returned, however, when that pair of hands grabbed him by the collar and shoved him straight into solid ground below, knocking the wind right out of his lungs as his back hit the grass.

"Kaito-! Get off of him!"

Umi's shriek cut through the crowd just as they did, their footsteps pounding in his ears as they sprinted forwards to protect him--but their steps weren't the ones that were shaking the ground, and only managed to arrive after Ebbi had pinned him and laid a solid punch into his cheek while he gasped for air. In the swiftness of a moment, the weight had lifted off his body like it wasn't even there at all.

"Fick dich! Fuck off! Arschloch!" A stream of obscenities flew from his lips, the blond struggling and kicking frantically as he was grabbed and held back in a chokehold–by no less than a much bigger, much more intimidating farmer-type that narrowed his brown eyes at him over the German's shoulder. But despite that, his dark-haired saviour said very little, and only held him back long enough for Umi to grab him by the arm and help him off the ground. In retrospect, he was just lucky that the guy was a good head taller than both of them and built like a brick house, his grip strong as he turned and shoved Ebbi away, before warning both of them in a low rumble to fuck off.

"C'mon, get up–c'mon, we're going home, now! What the hell were you thinking?!"

Even despite their scolding that had only just begun, he could practically feel the terror radiating off of Umi as they hauled him up to his feet and led him away from the scene. He'd undoubtedly be babied and fussed over as Umi held an ice pack to his cheek and forced him to drink some water for once, all while giving him a lecture about taking the high road and not giving in to other people's blah blah blah.

Of course he would listen, and nod his head, and promise not to lose his temper next time. But on the inside he could be as smug as he wanted to be, knowing that the little shit on the other side of the screen would be nursing his nose for a good, long while.

[turtlebluem]

I found a jacket, pants, and boots (+belt)! Progress!!!

The jacket I'll be ripping the sleeve off of by the seam, so I'll have to teach myself how sewing works since the inside has a separate layer. It's fake leather, so it should be simple enough to snip. I found that cropping the bottom by about 2 inches makes it look a whole lot better, so I need to figure out how to do that. I can't just straight up cut that part since there's no seem, so I might just glue it? But I also need to be able to get the jacket on, so we'll see what I come up with. Pretend the white isn't white, it's just the shirt I was wearing at the moment.

The pants are a full size too small and dig into my hips so hard they bruise a little bit after 15 minutes of wearing, but I'm hoping to at least soften the rubber grips with an undershirt or smth. They're rock climbing pants, and I got them for 12 bucks at a goodwill the next town over. They've got all these little pockets that'll go nicely with the holster I got off Amazon. I got a very nice belt so I can strap the holster on securely, but that's actually borrowed from a friend lol. I still need to figure out that across chest gun holster thing he's got, but I'm getting closer and closer to figuring it out.

The boots are actually my mom's forest boots she uses to work out in the woods. They used to have cute white spots but i colored those in with sharpie so they'd be all black. It probably took me around 2 hours to do booth boots. Yes I got her permission before doing this.

My mask is still on its way, as well as the holster and contacts. I'm so excited!!!

I have absolutely 0 cosplay experience, save for a Virgil Sanders Sides costume I did in middleschool for Halloween. This is such a fun project but also so very time consuming. The amount of hot glue I've gone through is unholy.

[alexbraindump]

501-B - Chapter 1: Descent

“With the introduction of the brand-new line of Fysi-Apomi hyper-resilient plant life, even those of you out in the most remote corners of the galaxy may create your own little garden! Stuffed with all the nutrients one could need and capable of producing up to quadruple the fresh oxygen of regular plants, our new line of greenery can help improve your life on any industrialized planet.”

A holo-television. A simple piece of technology, light suspended in the air between two strips of projectors. Colors of such depth and motion of such smoothness to suggest reality unfolding right there before oneself. Upon this particular holo-TV, the visage of a well-dressed human woman in a lush greenhouse. Flowing blonde hair and a silky suit to build the impression of one to be trusted.

“As you can see here-” She took hold of a pot. From it grew a little berry bush. “Our wonderful plantlife is capable of sprouting all the food one could need!”

The view panned outwards into a wide shot of the greenhouse. There were trees bearing fruit and bushes bearing berries and sprouts from the ground bearing vegetables. The woman walked backwards to follow the camera panning.

“With Fysi-Apomi, you can-”

Ring-ring. There was a shrill sound across the room. A remote was picked up and pointed at the holo-TV. With a press of the power button, its display dissipated into thin air. A few floating particles of light lingered for seconds. Ring-ring. The remote was tossed down onto a coffee table dotted with empty soda cans, cups of microwave noodles and the disassembled mess of a gadget or two. From the couch arose a bipedal vulpine. He pulled a hood over his face, obscuring all but the end of his snout. Ring-ring.

Dusty boots clacked against metallic flooring as he made his way across the room. It was enclosed, made of metal all around. Piping and exposed wiring ran in bundles along the ceiling and walls. Opposing ends of the room terminated in doors, one of regular size and one of a cargo bay.

Ring-ring. The fox stood before the source of the ringing. A phone mounted to the wall. On its ID screen were the words “CALL FROM: MR. B.” He pulled the phone from its terminal and held it to his ear.

“Where in the name of the gods are you, Cade?!” squawked a shrill voice. “My contact is waiting for you!”

“None’a your business, man,” Cade bit back. “You’ll get everything you need, don’t you worry.”

“Scrapbots could be encroaching upon that ship as we speak-”

“Off my back, B, goddamn. I’m just about there.”

“Define ‘just about.’”

“Close enough that I’ve gotta hang up and get ready for entry now now. Byeeee!”

“We need that part, Cade! Don’t let this end up like-”

Cade slotted the phone back into its terminal. It was followed right up by another call from Mr. B. He removed the phone, slammed it back into place and then shut the terminal off completely. Both the terminal and holo-TV having gone blank, the only sound to accompany the room was a slight, electronic droning. Cade strode off back towards his TV.

Between the TV and the wall was an empty space. Just about enough to house a person. Cade stepped into it. He pulled up his sleeve, revealing a watch underneath. Upon lifting it towards the wall, a small chime of approval sounded off. The wall creaked for a moment, hissed out a puff of air and then slid open. Its movement was staggered and jittery, but upon completion a roomy compartment was revealed within.

Green. Lots of green. Plants lined the back of the compartment, blossoming vines spread up the walls and around the corners. There was a row of synthetic sunlight strips above them, flanked on either side by watering pipes. Droplets of water dripped from the nozzles. Cade reached in and began shuffling around the plants. His clawed paws tended to the plants with gentle grace. Branches were nudged back into place, dying leaves were snipped off.

On the compartment’s floor sat multiple leather pads. They were a dark shade of brown that mirrored Cade’s own fur. Next to them laid a handgun - contained in a leather holster. Five spare magazines were scattered around it. And off in the corner was a backpack propped up against the wall. Cade took a hold of it and set it down on the floor outside before continuing on tending to his garden.

Centralized amidst all the plants was a single flower, sat in a pot of its very own. Its pedals burned a bright red, a standout look amongst the green surrounding it. Cade investigated it with movements gentle enough not to wake a sleeping mouse. He pushed it around with as much ease as his paws could muster until finding a single wilting leaf on its stem. With a grumble, he snipped the leaf off. It fluttered down into a pile of dead plant matter gathering on the compartment’s floor.

Cade swiped a few bits of debris off the leather padding. A sigh escaped his lips as he took hold of the largest piece. It was a set of straps, ones that he fastened over his torso. They made up a belt around his waist and a slash that crossed his body diagonally. Another piece - surface marked with a burn - affixed onto the strap over his left shoulder. Cade stretched and flexed his body around, allowing the upper armor to slide into place.

The handgun and its holster clipped right onto Cade’s belt. Pockets stitched on the opposite end served as perfect housing for the magazines. And with that, Cade removed the last leather plate and hit a button on the compartment’s wall. Its door came hissing shut as it returned to an airtight seal with a satisfying little click, all the while Cade began on his way across the room.

The smaller of the doors opened as Cade approached it. Beyond it was a small cockpit. A whole array of windows lined the walls. Through them a planet could be seen straight ahead. Trailing wisps and puffy blots of gray filled the atmosphere and shadowed out the surface. A central chair swiveled itself around just as the door had finished opening.

Cade tossed himself into it, setting the chair off to turn back around and present its pilot with the ship’s controls. Display panels ignited with green light in response to the fox’s presence. Each screen was pure black with nothing but green text displayed on them. A central terminal beckoned Cade to begin inputting commands, but the fox instead opted to lift his right leg and rest it on the dashboard. The final leather pad fit snugly around his thigh. He gave it a little pat, lowered his leg and sat back up.

A keyboard was situated below the central terminal. Cade reached around the ship’s control stick and typed a command. A list appeared, a long one. Each entry was a string of random letters and numbers. Cade deliberated over the long list until settling upon one of the latter choices with a click of the enter key. 076-RDMPTN24.

The control stick’s position allowed Cade’s paws to slide right off the keyboard and take hold of it. Its ergonomic design slipped into one of his paws with ease. He flicked a switch on the base of it and then began tilting it forward. One of his feet applied light pressure to the rightmost of two pedals beneath the dashboard. His free paw reached off to the side of the cabin and flicked a handful of switches. The ship angled forward, ramping up the speed of its descent.

A small crackling sounded off beside Cade, prompting an ear to perk up and nearly push his hood off. He took his paw to a dial above him and began to twist it ever so slightly. The crackling came in and out, pulsing between loud and quiet. His movements became finer and finer until the sound had plateaued out into a consistent buzz. A voice was peeking through the haze, small glimpses given of something resembling words. Syllables struggling to coagulate into complete statements.

“W..elcome to…” A robotic twang drenched the voice. “BZZT… an industrial outpost… Now welcoming trad- BZZZZT… Quality index of- BZZT… Safety equipment… nearest arrival station- bzt…”

Silence. The signal died off with one last whimper of a beep. Cade attempted to twist the dial further, but got nothing but varying degrees of static in response. A small beep here and there maybe, but nothing of substance. A lost cause, he reasoned to himself as he gave his attention back to that which awaited outside the window.

Speed was building from Cade’s planetary approach. The white-speckled blackness of space vanished from the corners of his view, replaced by writhing clouds of gray. They only seemed to darken as his approach pressed on. Cade gave a check to the gauge cluster. Dials were increasing across the board, all except for planetary surface distance.

BOOM! 

A crack of lightning caused Cade to jump in his seat. Storms announced their presence with great booms and thuds. Cade tightened his grip on the steering stick and allowed himself a deep breath. As if in response, turbulence jutted itself into the equation. Cade reached for his central dashboard and turned up a slider that was jury rigged into the wall and labeled “compartment stabilizer.” with a piece of tape. The ship was putting up its best attempt to level out, though even its best could generously be described as rocky.

Rain began speckling the glass. Cade flipped a lever and a pair of wipers began swiping in vertical motions. Almost like it was fighting back, the rain grew stronger. It grew stronger to the point that the default wiper speed failed to keep up. Cade clicked the speed up a notch. Not enough. Two notches, getting there. Three notches - as high as it would go - and they were hardly keeping the windows clear, though they offered just enough downtime to see through. Not that there was much to see beyond the whirling gray abyss of storm clouds.

Cade reached across his seat, grabbed the seat belt, and clicked it into place. His ship rattled and creaked, its computer systems beeping and crying in distress. The control stick was jolting around, necessitating Cade wrap his other paw around it. Yet even the strength of both his arms wasn’t enough to keep the ship under control. A particularly close arc of lightning sent his ship careening to the side. Cade yelped, the seatbelt barely managing to keep the fox from being flung across the cockpit. It was more than enough to break his grip on the control stick, though.

The ship was sent into a spiral. Even a hearty set of internal gravity generators couldn’t save Cade from growing dizzy. He struggled to reach out with his body being wretched in circles over and over. His eyes put up a fight to stay open, the contents of his skull feeling more akin to a stew than a solid brain. And - as if matters couldn’t get any worse - the clouds began to thin…

Cade’s mind struggled to register the fact that he had broken the cloud layer. A spinning mass of gray had been replaced with a spinning mass of green. His head was caving in, a pounding headache giving way to his eyes shutting. One last desperate bid to grab the stick, one last strained reach of an arm, one last chance…

Synthetic leather, in his paw. A rejuvenating burst of energy pulsed through the fox. Through a scrambled mind he managed to wrangle the stick back into some semblance of control. Enough to thrust his other paw onto it. What little strength he had left was invested right into yanking the stick into place, opposing the terminal roll his ship had been sent into.

Spinning colors of the planet’s surface slowed. Hazy green and obscured blots of dark brown. Cade yanked harder, hard enough to have instilled fear of breaking the steering system in any other situation. The death spin began to slow. Cade’s eyes managed to pry themselves open and the pure adrenaline pumping through his veins gave him the final sliver of energy required to bring the ship out of its spin. Relief poured into Cade’s clouded mind.

And relief was blown away nigh instantaneously. Saving himself from the spin hadn’t changed a thing about the fact that Cade was hurtling towards the surface at a speed so high that the dials of his gauge cluster went beyond their highest numbers. The surface was close. Too close, so much closer than it should’ve been. With the same hold that managed to save himself from the spin, Cade tugged the stick back towards him hard enough to slam it into his chest.

There was a near-deafening screech. Both the ship’s engines and frame screamed in protest to the sudden motion. Cade clenched his sharp teeth. A metallic tearing sounded off somewhere from the rear of his ship. His foot came slamming down onto a pedal and he yelled at the top of his lungs.

Mere moments to spare, the ship managed to straighten itself out. The whole thing rattled as its bottom side clipped a rusty smokestack. Cade almost fell out of his seat again. Industrial structures flew by in a blur around him. Whatever was left of the ship’s momentum had been sent to hurtling it forward instead. It grazed between smokestacks and long catwalks, missing some by mere inches.

Adrenaline flowing like water through his veins, Cade’s sweat-laden hands struggled to keep hold as he weaved between metal structures. With his attention darting from side to side, he hardly managed to notice the wall of piping he was hurtling towards. But when he did, he screamed out a curse and instead directed his arms to pulling back up once more.

A metal plate flung off the ship and slammed into the wall of pipes as Cade managed to pull the ship up into clear sky. Or, as Cade would come to realize as he collapsed back in his seat, an especially cloudy sky.

Stretching for miles in front of him was a vast expanse of metal and haze. The air was thick, tainted sickly green. Rain poured down and ran through the fog as if carrying it down to the surface - where it coagulated into a thicker mist. Old factories expanded into a horizon rendered near by fog, a complex dwarfing all else in scale. Cade’s weary eyes danced across it all. Not a single smokestack seemed to be in operation - some had even broken and collapsed. Everything was packed so dense as to disallow any comfortable ship landings.

Ring-ring. A screen off to the side lit up. CALL FROM: MR. B. Cade groaned and hit the accept call button.

“Our contact saw that pathetic entry of yours, Cade. You’re making an awful first impression.”

“As if they could’ve done any better,” Cade grumbled. 

“You’ll be meeting them at clearing J-11,” Mr. B chugged on without skipping a beat. “It’s taken you long enough to arrive already. Get there quick, lest you taint the reputation of this organization even further. And clean yourself up, you look and sound like a mess.”

“Because our reputation is spotless as is.”

“Maybe it would be without inconsiderate units such as you.”

“Ouch, that burns,” Cade sneered. “Get your ass out here and enter an unregulated atmosphere through a pollution storm. Shouldn’t be a problem for a bird brain like you, yeah?”

“My job here-”

“Is to get me my money after I get this done for you.”

The hang up button received a hearty press. Bzt. Cade glanced around the area. From the edge of the fog, an abrupt cutoff in all the industry revealed itself. A big red sign jutted out from it, J-11. He directed his ship towards it.

It expanded down several stories. Down and down it went until terminating in a lengthy parking lot. Almost all of its spots went unfilled, minus the select few which held the corpses of long abandoned cars at rest. Coffins lined with faded white paint.

In the furthest corner stood out one vehicle in particular. A ship in pristine condition. Comparatively pristine, at the very least. Its design was sharp and bulky. A fighter. Wing-mounted cannons larger than a person and paint bearing its fair share of scorches and chips. There was a figure standing outside of it, doing some kind of work made unrecognizable by distance.

Cade reached to the side of his cockpit and flipped a lever down. With some loud cracks of opposition, the ship’s engines rotated to face upwards. “Hover mode engaged, landing gear deployed” was printed on the center console. A press of the left pedal ensued and the ship began to lower as Cade maneuvered it to hover a few spaces away from the fighter. He depressed the pedal with as much ease as he could, but then the ship’s engines sputtered a few feet from the ground.

The ship jolted and hit the ground. One of the legs of its landing gear failed to deploy. Cade grunted and stumbled out of the cockpit, his legs taking their precious time growing steady once more. He ran a double check over himself as he entered the main room. Gun, check. Ammo, check. Armor, check. Bag… Unchecked. Cade took a small detour across the living room, over to the holo-TV. His backpack wasn’t in the space he left it, instead having been tossed into the nearest corner.

He stepped over and kneeled in front of it. Inside was an array of little devices, gadgets and rations that he shuffled through. Though their arrangement had been scattered, none of them had broken. Cade breathed a sigh of relief, shut the bag and slung it over his back. But as he stood, a sudden flash of panic lit upon his face. He turned to the wall compartment and its door, flush with the surface around it. A step was taken towards it when-

Clang-clang!

Knocking on the ship’s cargo bay door. Cade looked back at the compartment only for the knocking to sound off again. Clang-clang-clang! Even harder that time. He bit his lip, cursed under his breath and took off towards the cargo door. An empty noodle cup caught itself under his foot and put him into a stumble, one he only stopped by reaching out and catching himself on the wall. One of his paws had hit a panel next to the cargo door, causing it to begin lowering.

A rush of noxious air came flooding in. Its presence spurred a cough out of the vulpine the instant it came in contact with his windpipe. His lungs were made ten times heavier in the blink of an eye. He fell forward against the wall and propped himself up with an arm. Tears welled up in his eyes. There was a knock on the outside of his door that only barely registered to his ears.

“You’re late.” A gruff voice, clouded behind a digital filter. “Didn’t even listen to the arrival broadcast, did you?”

Cade looked up through tear-filled eyes and bore witness to a tall, human man. Face concealed behind a bulky gas mask and body clad in heavy metal armor, he was near double the size of the small fox. Another gas mask hung from one of the man’s hands. It wasn’t as bulky, seemingly a standard model lacking in any advanced additions.

“Boss didn’t-” Cade tried to speak, but was wracked by another coughing fit. “...Didn’t warn me about this air, fuck!”

“Your eyes should’ve.” The man tossed the mask over to Cade, who fumbled and nearly dropped it. “Call me Steel.”

With shaky hands, Cade shoved the mask over his face. A deep breath through its filters allowed a wave of relief to wash over his lungs. The mask was loose on his face, though a seal around its edges adhered to his fur. Fresh air gave Cade the energy needed to regain his posture and step out from his ship. Rain pelted against the top of his hood as he did so.

“One hell of a name,” the fox said. “Real subtle.”

“Codename, smartass. What’s yours?”

“Cade. Something that sticks to the whole ‘normalcy’ shtick. Not tryin’ too hard to sound all tough-”

“Shut it.”

“Pfft. Struck a nerve there, huh? Noted.”

Steel gave nothing more than a growl before facing himself towards the open space beyond the lot. A train station stood a short distance away. Holes in its walls revealed that a passenger train - though rusted - remained idle within. Perpendicular to the tracks stretched a vast expanse of what used to be roadway, now reduced to mere fractured chunks of color-bleached concrete.

Alongside the road was a whole forest of dead trees, their colors muted to a similar degree. A good lot of them had been felled. Those that remained standing were either stripped bare or covered with dead branches like veins that clawed towards the sky. Deeper and deeper into the fog the road winded, the only sense of termination provided by a large structure obscured in fog. 

“Ship’s out there,” Steel said. “According to my trackers.”

Cade nodded. “And is there any particular reason we had to land all the way out here, or was it just to get your steps in for the day?”

“Locals.”

“People live on this shithole?”

Steel let out a sigh. “The fuck did I just say?”

“It was a rhetorical question. Hell, you really are what it says on the tin.”

“That being..?”

“Dense.”

Though the lenses of his mask were tinted to the point of acting as shiny black walls, Steel’s glare burnt a hole into Cade. The fox opted to laugh it off. Steel, though unamused, directed the fox to follow him. Cade bent over to grab the door of his ship and slid it shut. It hissed as it sealed itself.

The duo set out on their way down the road. Steel drew a weapon from his back, a lever action laser rifle. Cade’s eager eyes affixed right onto it and he fell a pace or two behind. Slick black metal ending in sharp corners, its form invaded with duct tape and bundles of wires. An ejection port and feeding tube were present, though the latter had a charge package taped and welded into it. A rack holding three extra charge packs had been affixed to the side of the weapon.

Cade glanced down at the handgun on his hip and grumbled to himself. Instead of letting his eyes lock onto the other weapon once more, he forced himself to take a gander at the scenery. What little of it there was, at the very least…

Every now and then a road would splinter off and venture off into parts unknown. Or there’d be a road sign, or a billboard. Cade gave the billboards particular attention. Most had been worn by the elements to the point of illegibility. There were a select few that managed to stay just barely on the cusp of being comprehensible, though.

NixCo Cybernetically Enhanced Lungs!

Breathe better, live better with NixCo!

Ask about your local installation clinic today!

Bright colors - though dimmed by the elements - and a peppy cartoon human taking a nice, deep breath of air drawn so fresh Cade could almost feel it in his lungs. The pulsing inhales and exhales of the fox’s gas mask grounded him right back into reality, out of the ad’s own imitation of it. The reality where even reading the ad’s fine print was somewhat difficult from the noxious fog in the air. A shiver tickled his spine…

Miles dragged by. Steps faded into each other and became a blur of forward movement into swirling clouds of death. Steel hadn’t a word to say, and Cade’s head was still throbbing just enough to dismantle the idea of casual conversation. All their ears had was the booming of thunder overhead and the steady drone of rainfall. Their boots splashed in cloudy puddles of water. The monotony of it all kept Cade’s mind just as fogged as the planet he had found himself on.

“Snap out of it,” Steel barked, his voice shattering the glass of Cade’s focus like a hammer. “We’re just about there.”

The fox blinked and shook himself awake again. His paw pads were sore and his mouth yearned for a drink from within the confines of his mask. But one sign of tangible progress crammed itself into the forefront of his mind, pushing all else aside in the process.

Great walls of scrap metal. They were fashioned around something, but were tall enough to obscure vision inside. Light emanated from behind them and peeked through unsealed holes in the aged metal. Dotted along the walls were a handful of watchtowers. Spotlights shone down from them, swaying from side to side in rhythmic fashion. Banners had been hung atop each of the towers. They were tattered near the bottom, colored in a faded purple. Some royal-looking golden star was planted in the middle. There were stitches across each of the stars, the pattern of them uniform across every banner.

Cade stopped in his tracks. Steel kept walking a few paces forward before taking notice - at which point he too stopped. The man gave Cade an annoyed grunt. Cade grunted right back, only in an exaggerated mock fashion.

“Hold your horses, jackass,” Cade said. “How about we don’t walk right up to their front door?”

“Are you tired or something, wanna set up a picnic back here? Make the boss wait even longer for this godforsaken job to get done?” Steel bit back. “Hope you packed some sandwiches then, because I didn’t pack for a pleasant afternoon getaway.”

“No, I wanna make sure we know what we’re getting into before we go storming in.”

Steel huffed, but stayed in place. Cade shook his head and removed his backpack, placing it on the ground in front of him. He rummaged through it for a moment and took a pair of binoculars out. They were a bit awkward to press against his mask and didn’t provide the best view of things, but he made it work just enough to observe the towers ahead.

Within each tower was an armed individual. All of them carried aged bolt-action rifles. Too old to be laser weapons, Cade reasoned. Scrap metal armor adorned their bodies, painted a knightly shade of silver. They weren’t operating the spotlights, those moved on their own. Cade trailed the binoculars downward with the beam of one, down to the base of the walls. The main entrance was hard to miss. A large set of double doors. About as ornate as scrap possibly could be. Guards stood post outside it, armed with… swords?

Cade removed the binoculars from his eyes. “Lots of guards.”

“Lots? Let me be the judge of that.” Steel snatched the binoculars from Cade’s paw and began examining the place. “Hmphf, odd choice of weapons this lot uses.”

“Old ones, doesn’t seem like they get out much.”

Steel held the binoculars down, but didn’t gesture them out towards Cade. The fox took it upon himself to swipe the pair back for himself, tucking them in his bag right away. Steel responded by drawing his rifle and aiming it towards a tower.

“I’ll take out the guys in the towers, you move in and-”

“That’s stupid,” Cade interrupted. “Are you stupid? Shoot one of ‘em and the rest can trail that laser back here and shoot us both, bonehead.”

“Not if we take them out fast enough.”

“Okay, yeah. You’re stupid.” Cade sighed. “How about this; you stay here and cover me. Just - get behind a tree or something. I’ll head in and talk to those guys at the gate, see what’s goin’ on. And then, if they shoot me, you can do all the blasting your little heart desires, yeah?”

Steel groaned. “Gotta make a problem out of everything… Fine. But let it be known I’m not risking myself to save you if you get in over your head, fox.”

“Trust me, big guy,” Cade teased. “I got this~”

[Stay tuned for Chapter 2, hopefully coming within the next few weeks. Feedback is welcome & encouraged, this is my first time ever posting an original story I've written :3]

[rockingrobin69]

Snip of a Wip Sunday

TW for a mild panic.

The room was too cold, and smelled faintly of cabbage. The former was explained and apologised for profusely by the reception witch (the heating charms just don’t take in that part of the facility, something to do with magical core, and if they close the windows then the tenants start to complain, and, and, and). The latter—the cabbage-ness—probably came from lunch, or at least someone’s reaction to it. In his heart, Harry blamed the bald wizard in the corner of the room, swathed in three jumpers and slightly hiccoughing. In his head, he wasn’t quite so unfair. Hell, the cabbage very well might be him. He too had to suffer through the house’s Mystery Soup, as the nurses would not accept no for an answer. He had to eat, didn’t he, and it was getting late, wasn’t it, and just sit, Mr. Potter, here you go, good lad. Harry, as always when confronted with such treatment, squirmed, and caved. Now his belly ached, he was cold and overheated, and his witness would not come out of her room.

“She’ll come around eventually,” someone said behind his shoulder. A nurse waddled forward in soft banana-toned scrubs, dark hair braided around a shoulder. “If nothing else, he’ll get her.”

“He?” Harry asked, mostly because he was tired of sulking in silence. There were three reports and a Conversation waiting for him back at the office, and none of the endless patience this place seemed to require.

“Yeah. He’s her favourite. Don’t get why, but, well, some of these folks are pretty nutty.” When Harry scowled: “Gone ‘round the twist. Not entirely there.”

“I got it,” Harry gritted his teeth. “Thanks.”

The acerbic tone should have been enough. It wasn’t. Instead of dithering away, the nurse came to sit next to Harry.

“He’s the one who broke the heating charms, you know.”

“Is that right.”

“Is too. Management says he shouldn’t’ve been able to, what with the no-magic and all, but we know better. It’s him.”

Instead of replying, Harry sulked harder. The room did its level best to cheer him up, the colourful, plush sofas, the paintings on the wall. But it was cold, he had a headache, it smelled of cabbage, and the man in the corner kept singing to himself. Baldly and badly. Harry really wanted to get out of here. Even the office, with its reports and Conversations, seemed—although admittedly marginally—better.

The door opened, then closed. No one came through.

“D’you think you could arrest him for it?”

“For—breaking the charms?” Harry cracked his shoulder. The ache in it lingered, dull and distracting. “Not really a crime, sorry.”

“But it’s endangerment,” the nurse tried hopefully. “Vulnerable tenants, you know.”

Harry breathed in and out of his nose. “Tell you what. Why don’t you send the department your complaints, and someone would come look into it. If the man you think is responsible really is, then we might be able to reprimand him or something. Get the charms back.”

“Reprimand?” a big frown. “You’re gonna want to do a lot more than that, trust me. We all know how much—”

The door opened again, and this time, there was someone behind it. Harry’s whole life zoomed before his eyes as she walked in—she looked just like—but he swallowed it, wrenched control back through shaky, gritty fingers. Did the whole in-out-in-out thing his therapist was always droning about. Focused on the little details that weren’t her eyes or her hair or her face: her hand in the nurse’s hand, the soft banana fabric of his sleeve, the soothing thump of his simple black trainers. Harry, embarrassingly, couldn’t make himself look up.

“Oh,” said the braided nurse, a half-hearted sneer, and got up. “See you got her eventually.”

“Mrs. Bagshot is here to speak to the Aurors,” said a voice Harry knew and couldn’t place. It was soft and quiet and weird. Harry focused on the thin, long hand guiding Bathilda’s daughter to the seat. “Here, Madam. Now, would you rather have tea or juice?”

“Juice,” said Mrs. Bagshot with a frankly mischievous grin. “Roger, honey, why don’t you go get it for me?”

The nurse intent on pestering Harry nodded in a simpering, sickening way. “Of course, Mrs. Bagshot. Why don’t you take a—perfect. I’ll be right back.”

“Apple, please,” Bathilda junior said. When Roger disappeared: “He’ll never find it, we ran out this morning. Come, darling, sit, sit. You know I won’t do this without you.”

“Mrs. Bagshot,” admonished that voice. It itched up Harry’s throat, but he couldn’t make himself look at either of them. His whole chest was tight with it, a dark home, a giant serpent. Hermione in the other room. Danger, danger, blinking feral and hateful in red, red eyes. Fun, he thought, weakly, this was trauma. Stephen would be delighted.

Time did not pause, even if Harry sort of did. The familiar voice laughed, an unfamiliar sound, and said, “Oh, all right. But only for a moment. Potter, can I get you anything to drink?”

Harry mumbled something negatory to his left shoe. He realised he was still standing. The sofa creaked when he dropped down, disturbingly limp. He sort of wished Roger was back just to needle him some more. Harry was clearly not up to this task, no matter how much he swore up and down he could do this.

“What’s wrong with him?” asked Mrs. Bagshot in a very loud whisper.

“I’m not sure. Potter, are you quite all right?”

Concern sounded even less plausible on that voice. It was still soft, and just on the other side of recognisable. “No, yeah, I’m fine. Erm. Oh. There’s a file in my, just a second, let me…” he enlarged the folder from his pocket and shoved it forward without looking. A hand, long and pale, took it from his rather shaky one. “We need you to sign your statement and. Erm. Let us know if you saw anything else, anything at all.”

“Is that really why you came?” the familiarly unfamiliar voice asked in exasperation. Harry noticed without really grasping it that the room, previously reeking of cabbage, was awashed with a fresh, citrusy sort of smell. It was a nice change. Made it easier to breathe.

“Come on, dearie, read it to me, you know I don’t have my glasses.”

“Ah,” said the voice, a dry sort of humour to it, “so that’s why you insisted I was to come along.”

“Of course, of course, the only reason,” Mrs. Bagshot said quickly, and Harry decided it was safe after all to look up. Her S’s weren’t sibilant and she wasn’t actually her dead mother. And, also, Harry wasn’t scared of her, wasn’t scared at all. Wasn’t—

Sure what to do with the sudden clamminess of his hands at the sight. In banana yellow, holding Mrs. Bagshot’s hand like it was a natural thing for him to do, in black trainers on the edge of fraying, with his hair short and oddly mussed, working as a nurse in Bathilda Junior’s care home, was Draco Malfoy.

Harry—should have known this, actually.

He tried not to let anything show on his face. Was ensured, by both of those staring at him, that he failed miserably. Malfoy was here, was holding Harry’s witness with a completely unhinged show of care, and it might have tilted the world right out of order, or.

Or maybe not. Maybe it made sense that Malfoy was here, guiding the witness.

“You know,” Harry said in a grating voice that was nearly his normal, “your testimony is meant to be confidential.”

“Pish posh,” Mrs. Bagshot waved an imperious hand. “He’s here to help, Harry Potter. You’d do well to remember that.”

It sounded oddly chastising. Harry bit back at least three instinctive retorts.

“Perhaps—” it was Malfoy who said it, and who braved the double glare sent his way, “Mrs. Bagshot, perhaps he’s right. I’m sure I could find your glasses if you gave me a moment to look for them.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you.” Yeah, her grin was definitely mischievous. Harry thought quickly about Unforgivable curses, about Imperio, about its signs. The fact she presented none was meaningless in such a short interaction.

“Mrs. Bagshot,” Malfoy sighed. Harry wanted to laugh. He felt entirely, cabbagely, out of his element.

“You, boy, would not take that tone with me,” she said in a weird, weird, gentle way. Like it was a private joke between them, or an encouragement somehow. It worked, as Malfoy rolled his eyes, and seemed to perk up.

Harry—didn’t know what sort of alternate universe he’d fell into this morning. “Listen. There’s procedure and regulation for this kind of thing. Now, if Mrs. Bagshot here were in need of a translator, then—”

“Oui,” the devil of a woman said in French, “peut être si—”

“Mrs. Bagshot,” Malfoy laughed. The sound was so foreign, Harry felt it in his very bones. “No.” he got up and shook his head at her, so fondly it made Harry’s stomach clench. “Potter’s right. You should give your testimony yourself, and it won’t do to try and fight this, of all ridiculous things. If you hid your glasses that well, then the Auror present is probably able to read out loud for you, under his convenient privacy spells. I’ll be right here, fiend. Waiting to take you back to your room as promised. I won’t go anywhere.”

“Draco,” Mrs. Bagshot said, none of the playfulness in her voice now. “You know it isn’t you I’m worried about.”

“Who are you worried about?” Harry asked quietly, quill already in hand, but only got two mildly confused looks sent his way.

“They’re not going to do anything worse than before. It’s perfectly fine.”

“It’s not,” Mrs. Bagshot said, same time as Harry asked, “Who? Do what?”

“It’s fine,” Malfoy said even louder, and got to his feet. “Honestly. You’d do well to stop clacking, madam, as you are not actually a chicken.”

That got Harry baffled enough to shut up. Even more oddly, it made Mrs. Bagshot smile, a sad sort of turn of her lips.

Harry remembered why he was here. It felt like pulling teeth, or pulling out of a deep, sticky fog. “Is anyone threatening you? Trying to throw off the investigation? Has anyone approached you with intention to—”

Both of them, he realised, were laughing at him. Malfoy quietly, with his shoulders and his eyebrows, and Mrs. Bagshot out loud.

“Oh, he’s just as you said he’ll be,” she said to Malfoy adoringly. To Harry: “No, boy, nothing of the sort. Come now, let’s get this over with, for I will not be late for my bridge game this afternoon, and if Draco isn’t here to escort me to it, I will hold you personally responsible.”

Harry thought again about Imperio. Malfoy was rather good with it, wasn’t he. When Mrs. Bagshot’s sharp eyes turned to say something more to her favourite baby Death Eater, Harry took the chance to cast some diagnostic spells her way.

Found nothing. Well. There was still the possibility of a potion, or a something. Something.

“Well?” Mrs. Bagshot’s glare was back on him. “I thought we had important matters to discuss?”

“Yes,” Harry shook himself. He was only thrown off because it was her, because of the details of this specific case, because of the sudden presence of Malfoy in it. Malfoy in banana-yellow, one of the worst possible colours for him, pretending to—what exactly? Work here? By chance?

Harry jumped again when Mrs. Bagshot snapped her fingers inches away from his nose. “Well?”

“Yes. Yes. Let’s review your statement, and see if you have anything to add. We have reason to suspect that…”

“Yes, yes, let’s do get on with it,” Mrs. Bagshot said with a worried glance to the corner of the room, where Malfoy was crouching next to an old lady in a wheelchair. Harry, in his cabbagey-shock, didn’t miss it.

Malfoy was involved with the case, so much was clear. How, and to what end, Harry was about to find out. For now he released a tight breath and cleared his throat.

“Let’s go over the events of August nineteenth. According to your statement, you were alone in your house when…”

Across the room, Malfoy got down on his knees and tied the lady’s shoe laces.

Harry—carried on, professionally.

Thanks for the tag, @toxik-angel, and here is a snip from ANOTHER wip I’m excited about! In the past month my life has been dedicated to Imperfection, the whumpiest of all whumpy things I’ve ever written. Unfortunately I cannot share any snips from it (for SPOILERS), but this one is honestly so much fun. There’s whump, there’s mystery, there’s pining, there’s growth, there’s Draco in banana-yellow. What more could we ask for? 

[princess-of-the-corner]

So, thoughts on the Fall Formal outfits for the Humane 5 + Twilight, Flash, Trixie, Snips, Snails, CMC, Diamond Tiara, and Silver Spoon in the first EQG movie?

Okay fall formal outfits:

Twilight - Pretty okay. A little generic. I think she could've gone with something a touch more regal since part of her story arc is accepting her role as Princess and Leader. But they wanted everyone in short skirts and all.

Pinkie - I love this one actually. Layers, bows, the hat? A lot better fitting. My only suggestion would once again be 'More!!' but I understand the limitation of keeping her simple for animation

Rarity - Fabulous as always! I kinda wish she had a necklace though.

Applejack - I..... look. The Fall Formal is one of the times I'm down for AJ wearing a dress of her own accord but... that's- that's not a vibe at all. It's trying way too hard. Jean dress and apples everywhere.

Rainbow - Once again she suffers from the design team wanting to put her in rainbow-colored outfits. I like the style of it decently for 'she has to wear a dress', but I'd love for them to let her have a more solid colors.

Fluttershy - Real cute! I think she should have sleeves, but it's still a vibe!

Sunset - Did not wear a different outfit for the formal. Of the three we see in her photos of previous wins, I like the first one best and the third the least.

Flash - Pretty generic suit tbh, but he's the sexy lamp at a school dance so it works!

Trixie - I can't find any images of her at the Fall Formal, and I don't feel like scouring the background right now.

Snips and Snails - Wearing a tuxedo print shirt/adding a bowtie to your default outfit with a tophat? Peak freshman energy.

CMC - why are they all in pinks?? I think if you adjust the colors to be more personal it'd work for Bloom and Belle. Scoots is entirely too frilly tho

Diamond and Silver - I wish we got to see what the actual color scheme for them is because I can only find images of them in funky lighting, but I love both their dresses on them

[casicroaks]

Tiffany Valentine has two things in her mind: love and murder. The origins of the brains behind the infamous Lakeshore Strangler and the string of broken hearts she left along her way to Chicago, interwoven with the development of the tempestuous relationship between her and a certain Charles Lee Ray.

CHAPTER 8

[ CHAPTER 1 // CHAPTER 2 // CHAPTER 3 // CHAPTER 4 // CHAPTER 5 // CHAPTER 6 // CHAPTER 7 // CHAPTER 8 // CHAPTER 9 // CHAPTER 10 // CHAPTER 11 // CHAPTER 12 // CHAPTER 13 // CHAPTER 14 // CHAPTER 15 // CHAPTER 16 ]

NEW JERSEY, 1985

Halloween was just around the bend and, for the first time in almost a decade, I had an invitation to celebrate it. Molly had heard from a friend about a costume party taking place at a bar downtown, and she had told me she would love for me to come. She had even told me I could bring a plus one, so I was even more excited to break the news to Chucky. Certainly, I didn’t know whether he would even want to go, but in any case, I was thrilled –and I was going, no doubt about it.

“You already know what you’re gonna go as?” I asked Molly that Sunday, while wandering around the stores already all decked out in their best spooky décor.

“As a witch,” she said with a shrug. “Like every Halloween. This year I’ve thought of changing things up, painting myself green and going as that one hag from ‘The Wizard Of Oz’… but I guess there’s a reason my younger brother was terrified of her for years.”

I laughed. “What, is your brother coming to the party too?”

“No, I mean…” She rolled her eyes and made a hand gesture. “I don’t think guys will find me particularly ravishing when we step out of the dance floor and onto the street to suddenly realize they’ve been making out with a woman slathered in paint.”

“Well, that’s their problem, not yours.”

Molly laughed as well. “So, what about you?”

“Vampire queen,” I said proudly. “I’d really love to dress up as Elvira, you know, from TV?”

“Yes, of course I know who Elvira is!”

“The problem is getting a good wig…”

“Bah, that’s not really an issue –you work at a hair salon, for God’s sake!” Molly said. “Even though I’m great at styling wigs I’m pretty bad at applying acrylic nails… I’m used to working with my hands.”

We got inside a little shop Molly said she bought almost her entire wardrobe in. There was a holiday sale, and it was crawling with people, all of them clearly knowing that the place was their best bet for creepy fashion garments to build up their costumes.

“Do you think Elvira did rip off Vampira?” Molly asked me, tossing me several black dresses to choose from. “Assuming you know who Vampira is.”

“Of course I know who Vampira is,” I said, almost buried in the growing pile. “I think the more the merrier. Besides, Vampira, Elvira, Morticia, Lily Munster –they’re all rather similar anyways.”

“Oh –Lily Munster, that’d be a good Halloween costume too,” she said with a big smile, briefly distracted by a display of metallic belts.

I put the pile down for a moment, on a nearby velvet chair, and examined each dress while Molly went to look for accessories. It had to be something I liked and would wear, but not something that I’d get too attached to and would be sad to put under the needle of my sewing machine. All of the dresses were pretty, but none were exactly what I was looking for. I had to settle for a simple one with bell sleeves, which all it was really needing were some snips and slits to get to look just right.

I turned around and sighed, watching Molly’s tall, backcombed black hair bobbing in the crowd, as she continued her search for some baubles with which to adorn what was otherwise a pretty plain costume.

“I’ve decided I’m gonna ask Annie to dress up as the Good Witch of the North,” she declared, now carrying several jingling bangles in her wrists. “At least so she doesn’t come as a cat again. Cats aren’t scary…”

It was Molly’s turn to go through the pile of dresses. I watched her in silence, thinking about when I had gone to see that Madonna movie with Annie. Now, I had the feeling Molly’s tastes were probably closer to my own.

“Hey, uh, there’s this movie that came out last week,” I commented, once Molly seemed satisfied with her choice. “Fright Night—”

“Ah, yes, I’ve been itching to check it out!”

“What’d you say, if we go watch it next week?” I said with a shrug and a smile.

“Sure!”

I smiled even wider. Last time it had been Annie who had asked me to go to the cinema, since another friend of hers couldn’t make it. It had been a good time, but as kind as Annie was, I could tell we didn’t have that much in common besides being coworkers. Inviting Molly to come along with me, though, and having her accept, felt like a real confirmation of us being friends, or at least friendly enough. It was just the polite thing to do after she suggested I come to the Halloween party; but still, I did like that warm feeling of knowing that maybe this could be the beginning of a true friendship.

“You know, Tiffany,” Molly said with a little smile, getting in line to pay. “If I had known you were so cool, I’d have started talking to you sooner.”

I looked down at the long black dress I had picked. Whose fault was it, that she didn’t know how cool I was earlier?

“Oh –very important –you know how to make fake blood?” Molly asked me.

“Fake blood?”

“Yes, with corn syrup. For your vampire costume.”

“Oh, um, no…”

“No worries. I used to be quite the go-getter back at community theater. Makeup, costuming, set designing sometimes… Guess that explains a lot about me.”

I laughed. “Alright, you teach me how to make blood, I can teach you how to make really good fake nails for your witch costume.”

“Deal.”

We both repressed a grin and shook hands in mock seriousness. The line was moving slowly. I gave the dress another look, up and down and around, just to make sure I had made a good choice.

“… Why didn’t you or Annie ever talk to me before, though?” I asked her.

“We did!” she replied with a frown. “We invited you to stuff, to go out for drinks after work –but you always said you were busy. And besides, you always seemed so bitter and upset over your breakup, even after we gave you that makeover to try and cheer you up…”

I touched my now-blonde curls. The red had washed off completely, and I was back to bleached. It had been gradual, over the course of a few months, with just a decision to stop dyeing it crimson: but one morning I had looked at myself at the bathroom mirror, and saw the same happy moonstruck girl that had fallen in love last time. It was nice to see my reflection so happy again, and yet I was unnerved by remembering how that had turned out…

Molly smiled at me again. “Anyway, I am glad you’re feeling better now, though.”

I smiled back at her, hoping I looked thankful enough, and made an effort to push those gloomy thoughts off my mind, at least long enough so I could enjoy myself on the shopping trip with my newly appointed friend. All I needed was a distraction. And, thankfully, once I got back home, I had my baby to keep me distracted.

“Honey, I’m home!” I said in a sing-song voice, locking the door and kicking my heels off. “You here?”

He didn’t answer, but I saw his mop of dark hair hanging by the armrest of our little couch. That was what we had forgotten about, that time we went to the Ikea. We really needed an actual lounging chair, or something, so we could watch TV without having to find complicated ways to drape ourselves over that sorry excuse of a sofa.

“I got news!” I continued saying in a lilt, with a big smile, raising the bag with my purchases. “One of my coworkers told me about this Halloween party at The Raven’s Nest –a costume party! So we went buying things for our costumes…” I pulled the long black dress from the bag, dropping it and unfolding the garment for Chucky to see. “I got this on sale, isn’t it perfect? Though I’m planning to do some modifications…”

I waited for him to say something. He blew some smoke, still looking at the TV, which I then realized was not even on. A few seconds passed, in which none of us said anything. I finally huffed, losing my smile.

“You can at least pretend to be excited, you know,” I grumbled, folding the dress and stuffing it back in the bag. “I was thinking of inviting you to be my plus one, though I don’t think I’d want you to come along if you’re gonna go as Oscar the goddamn Grouch.”

He snorted a laugh, but didn’t do anything else. Typical of him.

“Alright, that’s enough. Why the silent treatment?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

Chucky finally turned towards me, giving me a look as if he had just realized I was there. “I just thought you’d be home by now, that’s all.”

“Geez, do I need to tell you when I go out and when I don’t, now? What are you, my mom?”

He took a drag and grumbled something under his breath. “What’s for dinner?”

I huffed. “I don’t know. See if there’s some leftovers in the fridge that we could heat up.”

“You could have brought something, since you were out shopping…”

“I was out with a friend,” I said, crossing my arms. “And the H-Mart isn’t exactly a hot spot, I gotta say. Not that you would know –you probably haven’t stepped into one in your life.”

At least before he met me, Chucky had a pretty shitty diet, consisting mostly of fast food and drugstore snacks. It was a miracle he was so skinny –though there was also the fact that he often forgot to eat his meals. He simply wasn’t hungry until he was reminded of it, for some weird reason. And, when he was hungry, he was usually straight-up starving. And an empty stomach didn’t help with a bad mood.

“There’s a food court at the mall, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he said. “People go there to eat, sometimes. You can even bring boxes of the stuff back with you! Does that ring a bell?”

I closed my hand in a fist. I had grown pretty thick skin over the years, but something that always particularly irritated me was when someone treated me like I was stupid. Of course, Chucky knew that very well. “Excuse me if I wasn’t feeling like having that crappy cardboard pizza again.”

After a whole afternoon of being out and about, I needed some coffee, pronto. Unlike Chucky who, despite everything, could be pretty fussy at times, I knew that a good quick rinse of hot water was enough to get the grime off old used coffee mugs –dirty dishes and cutlery were a different matter, of course, since they accumulated grease and crumbs –but with mugs and glasses, one could be a bit more forgiving. At its most difficult, the worst stain a glass could have was lipstick. I fished the mug that I always used, one that Chucky had gifted me for our first Valentine’s Day. It was the cutest thing, a creamy white with a fluffy grey cartoon kitten drawn on the side in the style of those pretty Hallmark card illustrations, a big blue bow tied around her neck. He had told me he had thought of getting me earrings or something like that at first, but that when he saw it at the store it reminded him of me, and that he liked to think it matched with his own Garfield mug. I still think it was the sweetest, most adorable present anyone has ever given me for Valentine’s. At the sight of it, I smiled a little, against my best efforts to stay angry.

“Where’s the sugar?” I asked out loud, opening the sugar bowl in the cabinet and finding it empty.

Chucky shrugged. “How should I know? Guess it would have been nice if you bought some on your way back, huh?”

“Don’t you work at a goddamn store?” I asked, slamming the cabinet door for emphasis. “Why don’t you take care of groceries for a change?”

“It’s a convenience store, not a grocery store!” he claimed. “And you’re the one who’s always saying we should eat healthier. What’d you want me to do, bring home a bag of Cheetos for dinner?”

“You know, it’d be something!”

“It’s not my fault you’re the one who knows how to cook,” he said, crossing his arms like a sulky brat.

“You can make a grilled cheese,” I replied. “You’re not that clueless around the kitchen.”

“There’s no cheese,” he said, pointing at the fridge.

“Then make scrambled eggs! Improvise!”

“I thought you liked cooking!”

I scoffed. “Like my mother used to say, ‘there’s such a thing as too much of a good thing’. Just because I like cooking doesn’t mean I dream of being chained to a stove for the rest of my damn life.”

“Jesus, you’re so dramatic…”

“I’d like to see you do it every single day, and then try and call me dramatic!”

He rolled his eyes at me. I think that was the last straw. I could reply to his teasing and his bitching, but when he decided that he had had enough, that I was the one being ridiculous, and that he wouldn’t even argue with me anymore –when I was clearly in the right –and assume a silent victory –that was when I would lose it.

“For God’s sake, I do everything here –I cook, I clean, I work the most hours –what do you do?” I yelled and stomped, demanding his attention. “You don’t even chip in! You just slack around, doing nothing—”

“Oh, sure, it’s really clear how much you’re breaking your damn back!” he yelled back at me, gesturing towards the sink, where the dirty dishes had begun to pile up. “And that’s without even mentioning the dirty laundry that’s begun to stink up the bedroom!”

I laughed out loud. “These are your dirty socks, baby! I should know –I’m the one who’s left having to darn them!” I cried. “Besides, you said you’d take it to the laundromat! You promised!”

“And I’ll do it—!”

“When? Huh? When?”

“I’ll –I’ll do it, eventually!” he stammered. “Right about when you wash one damn dish! I always have to end up doing it!”

“I’m the one who cooks here –it’s just fair that you at the very least help out with that! Like my mother always said—”

“Shut up with your goddamn mother’s sayings!” he yelled, covering his ears with his hands. “You’re fucking insufferable! It’s all bitching from you, twenty-four-seven!”

“Oh, so says Mister Happy Camper!”

“Aw, go get fucked, Tiff,” he said finally, opening his eyes wide and furious, in that way he did when he was about to lose whatever patience he had left. “Maybe that way you’ll loosen the fuck up!”

What could I even say to that? I was left speechless. Chucky had cursed me out a couple times before, so it wasn’t like it was unprecedented or out of nowhere; but it always felt like a particularly hurtful thing to do. I wished I had something half as hurtful to hurl back.

“How dare you speak to me like that!?” With everything that I did for him! “God, you can be so… So immature!”

He let out a mighty cackle. “Oh, I know you are… But what am I?”

I opened my mouth, but I didn’t have a reply. I knew that he’d just repeat that over and over, I knew him well enough to know that he had no shame to do such a thing. And, knowing he had won the argument by default, Chucky laughed at me, triumphant.

“Shut up! Shut up for once!” I yelled. He kept laughing, and laughing, and laughing… And I finally let out a scream, as loud as I could, loud enough to be louder than him, and in my anger I slammed my hands against the counter—

We both went quiet. We both looked down. My favorite mug laid shattered and in pieces, some still trembling on the counter, others in a brown puddle on the floor. The kitten’s face was cracked in half, still more or less recognizable as part of the ceramic puzzle. But it was certainly not just a little chip on the side.

“Sheesh.”

I brought my hands, holding the larger pieces, closer to my face. And I began sobbing. I wished I could say it was just out of anger, like I sometimes do when I get too mad; but I was truly sad, I can’t deny it. I really loved that mug.

Chucky clicked his tongue. “Come on, Tiff, it’s just a mug…” he said, rubbing my shoulder. “It’s no big deal. I’ll get you another one, an even nicer one.”

“It’s not just a mug!” I snapped, shrugging his hand off me, and a tear rolled down my cheek. “It’s the one you gifted me. For Valentine’s…”

“Well… You glue together dolls, right? China dolls?” he asked, and pointed to the collection on the mantle. “Aren’t china dolls and mugs made out of more or less the same thing?”

I wiped my runny nose. “Yeah… I guess.”

“So, you can put it back together,” Chucky said. He cupped my cheek with his hand, and wiped a tear away with his thumb. “Babe, come on, don’t cry. It’s okay.”

I sighed, exhausted at him and at myself, and leaned my head against his chest.

“… You know, I just miss you all the time, when you’re away,” I said to his heart. “When I have to be alone here.”

Chucky put his hand on my shoulder, stroking it gently, and slowly moved away to kneel and pick up the pieces of my mug. I kneeled too, and picked a few myself, careful not to get a cut.

“I miss you too.”

That’s all I wanted to hear. I just wanted to make sure he still loved me.

“Look, I’m… I’m sorry for not helping around,” he finally said, dropping the pieces on a little blue dish by the coffeepot.

“I’m sorry for not being around as often,” I said, dropping mine along.

“Is this gonna change anything?”

I looked up at him. Chucky kept his sights square on the blue dish, staring down the pieces I was going to have to glue back together. I wondered if he was really thinking about getting me a new one. A fixed mug might still be pretty leaky, after all. Still, even with one exactly like it, it wouldn’t be the same.

“No… No, probably not,” I admitted with a little chuckle. “I don’t think so.”

He gave me one of his half-smiles. “Yeah, I don’t think so either.”

We both chuckled bitterly, looking down at the now-cold puddle of coffee at our feet, and we sighed.

“Know what?” he said suddenly. “I think I still have an old werewolf mask I wore for a few Halloweens, back when I was a kid.”

I smiled. “You think it’ll still fit you and your big dumb head?”

He snickered. “I haven’t changed that much since then.”

“Boy, don’t I know that.”

He laughed. I giggled along, wiping away my last tears. It made no sense to argue so much, especially over such silly things. But we still did it, and it didn’t last long, but we could really hurt each other. Even if we managed to forget about it, I still had to wonder how much I could take before I really snapped. Or, on the other hand, how much Chucky could take himself, before he lost all patience with me.

As long as we loved each other, though, I had to believe that everything would be alright.

“Got any money left from your shopping trip?” Chucky asked, picking up the tie he had left hanging from the chair.

“Yeah, a couple bucks…”

“Ah, never mind that,” he said, tying the knot of his tie around his neck. “I’m treating us both to dinner tonight. What’re you in the mood for?”

I tapped my chin with the tip of my finger, pretending to give it some deep thought. “… Remember that little Italian place by Franklin Avenue, with the great food and the awful service?”

Chucky grinned, circling his arm around my waist and pulling me to him. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

I laughed, pulling him by his shirt collar for a kiss. “Let me put on my shoes and we’ll get going.”

“Don’t forget about your switchblade,” he said, putting on his coat. “I’m not sharing my knife again.”

“That was just one time! I never even take it out of my bag,” I exclaimed, holding onto his shoulder for balance and squeezing my feet into the heels. “And sharing won’t kill you, you know?”

He rolled his eyes. I huffed, but decided not to keep at it. It was nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a good meal and some fun for dessert.

“Ready to blow off some steam?” he asked with the keys in one hand, the other stretched out to me, his fingers twitching and hurrying me.

I nodded, skipping towards him, and grabbed his hand. I noticed there was a quiet buzzing in the air. I saw, just before we closed the door and left the apartment in the dark, a big fat fly hovering around the sink.

As we walked back home that night, hand in hand, sticky with strawberry ice cream and warm blood, I had the brilliant idea to suggest we played a few rounds of poker so we could decide who was gonna do the dishes, at least for the month. Chucky accepted, obviously; he never refused a game or a dare. He was quite better at it than I had expected, though of course, even as I turned a blind eye to a couple cards, I ended up winning by a landslide. He did manage to convince me to be the one to dry and put it all back into the cabinets, and, for extra measure, he also threw in a deal that he would choose what we had for dinner for the next two months or so. He already kind of did, though, so I didn’t mind much. So, while Chucky scrubbed the grease off the spoons, I dried what he had cleaned and put it back into the cabinets. When we worked together, it didn’t feel like the daunting mountain of waste it always seemed to be. If only we could find a way to keep it up, just like when, once in a blue moon, he would help me cook by chopping garlic and onions (since, for God knows what reason, he was the only person I had ever met who somehow didn’t tear up), I knew we could be so much happier together.

Not that happiness was in short supply that month, certainly.

I was really excited for the Halloween party, of course, but it wasn’t the only reason for celebration that month: our anniversary was coming up, too. Sitting on the kitchen table, with the TV keeping me company the Thursdays-to-Saturdays evenings in which I was home alone, I glued my mug back together in parts, building it up over the days, waiting patiently for the glue to dry fully before adding the next batch of pieces, while thinking about what we should do to observe the occasion. I considered booking us a table at some fancy restaurant, or preparing a picnic at Foschini Park, before finally deciding that it would be much nicer to just spend the day by ourselves at our apartment, enjoying a good homecooked dinner and each other’s company. I certainly liked big gestures, like last Valentine’s Day, in which Chucky got us a room at a swanky hotel; but sometimes smaller things were wonderful, too.

I prepared Swedish meatballs, his favorite, to eat along with that type of ribbon-like, flat wide pasta noodles, my favorite. Something wonderful about cooking was how the place would warm up, how it made what was otherwise our little, rather messy apartment, into something that felt much like a home. The water had already boiled and I had strained the pasta, now waiting in the pot to be served, while the sauce was bubbling and simmering on the stove. While he set the table, I changed into my nightdress and fixed my hair in front of the bedroom mirror, humming to myself.

“Don’t let the sauce burn, hun,” I called, breaking the silence.

“Alright…”

I took one last drag of the cigarette on our dresser, turning my head to see how my hair was looking. It was a truly lovely afternoon. The sun was setting, the last light of the day was streaming through the windows, and he was choosing a record to put on.

“I’m not in the mood for Alice Cooper again,” I said out loud, carefully taking out my curlers. “Put something else—”

Right on cue, Robert Plant’s wails came to me from the living room. I smiled. I left the pins on the box and walked in to have a better listen –and Chucky surprised me from the other side of the doorframe and hugged me from behind, picking me up and spinning around, and I let out a happy little squeal, grabbing onto his arms, before he lowered me back onto the floor. I leaned my head back, and he swayed his head to the music, mouthing the words against my cheek.

“I said, I can't quit you, babe…” I sang along. He laid a little kiss under my jaw. “I guess I got to put you down for a while…”

“Good choice?”

“Yeah,” I smiled, stroking his face. “Good choice.”

“This was my first record,” he said. I turned around just enough to shoot him a curious glance. “The oldest one.”

“Figures,” I said, closing my eyes. “I can imagine you so clearly… A little boy, having his whole world rocked, listening to this for the first time.”

Much like the books on his shelf, the record sleeve was so worn and cracked, and there was so much age and scrapes on the record itself, it made perfect sense it had some real nostalgic value. I wanted to ask him if it had been back when he lived with his family, or when he was already an orphan, living with other kids. Maybe a schoolfriend had come over and brought the record. Maybe it was a gift from his parents. Maybe an older kid at the orphanage had smuggled it in, and all the other children gathered round like they were listening to horror stories around a campfire, mesmerized by this hot new music, unlike anything they had experienced before.

I imagined that was probably a lot like what his first time had been like. A normal setting, a daily situation, interrupted by something life-changing.

“A year already…” I said, turning around to face him and resting my arms on his shoulders. “It’s amazing how time flies, huh?”

He nodded, his smile just the littlest bit weaker. I noticed it, though.

“What’s wrong?”

“… Is something burning?”

“Oh –shit.”

Chucky laughed while I ran to the stove to turn it off, and quickly checked on the tomato sauce.

“I told you to watch it,” I said, clicking my tongue. “Anyway –it’s done.”

“Good, good…” he chuckled, as I came back from the kitchen. “Hey, Tiff,” He took a paper-wrapped object out of his pocket. “This little toy seems to have your name on it.”

“Oh?” I perked up. “For me? What is it?”

Chucky grinned and tossed it at me. I caught it and ripped the paper as quick as I could. It was an absolutely beautiful nail file, shiny and silver, with a sharp edge on the side, sharp enough to slice. I gasped in delight, running the edge of it against my thumb, making the thinnest, most delicate cut, enough to break skin but not enough to draw blood. Beautiful. And miles better than my old rusty switchblade.

“Happy one year, babe,” he said, wrapping an arm around me and planting a kiss on my temple.

“Oh, Chucky… I love it,” I said, trying it out, filing one of my chipped nails. It was pretty good –heavy duty. With a bit of care, it should last me quite some time. “It’s exactly what I was needing.”

“It’s not the same as stabbing, you know,” Chucky commented. “But throat slicing’s an art you already master, after all.”

“Flatterer,” I said, turning my eyes towards him, pressing the nail file against my lips, feeling its perfect metal coldness, before smiling again and giving him a smooch. “It’s the perfect gift, darling.”

This reminded me of my own purchase. Giving him another quick little peck and slipping the nail file under the elastic of my stocking for safekeeping, I hurried back towards the doorway, where the coatrack was and where I hang my jackets and my black leather bag.

“I like to think that today’s special dinner is my present, but… I also got you this little something.”

I pulled a bag out of my jacket pocket, and carefully handed it to him. Chucky glanced at me, curious and excited, before opening the little colorful plastic bag and peeking inside. His reaction though, was, let’s say, underwhelming. He frowned, in what seemed to be confusion. For a moment I wondered if it had broken when I had brought it home.

“What is it?” I asked him.

“You tell me…”

“Well, take it out!” I chuckled. “Take a good look at it!”

Chucky picked it out from the bag and held it carefully in the palm of his hand. I smiled at the sight of it. It was this cute little porcelain clown doll, in a yellow outfit and hat, with little bells sewn to the tips of his shoes. It had this cheeky grin painted on, and half-closed eyes looking sideways, as if he knew some sort of naughty secret.

“Isn’t he the cutest?”

He kept examining it for a few seconds more –I swear, he just wanted to mess with me –but finally he let out a snicker. “It’s… Yeah. It’s the cutest little bastard of your collection so far.”

“My collection?” I repeated, putting my hands over his. “This one’s yours, sweetface…”

He shot me a confused look. “Really?”

I laughed. “Of course! It’s your present!”

“Oh… Okay,” he said, turning it around again. “Uh… Well, y’know, I have no idea what I should do with it. You’re the one who puts them around, sets them in their place…”

“Well, this one’s yours, so you get to decide all that.”

“Huh…” he muttered, inspecting the toy again, as if waiting for it to do a dance or say a joke or something. I began to wonder if it had been a good idea in the first place.

“Don’t… Don’t you like it?” I asked him.

“Yes, I do, Tiff, it’s just that… I don’t know –what am I supposed to do with a weird little clown?”

“Don’t I ask myself that question every other day,” I joked. He rolled his eyes. “You can just keep him around, like with any other toy. You can put it on the shelf with the rest of them, or you can put him in the closet to look after your shirts, or in the kitchen cabinet so he can watch out for rats—”

“Well, he looks pretty fragile,” he said. “Bet a determined rat could do a number on him.”

“Maybe he’s tougher than he seems,” I shrugged. “What would you name him?”

Chucky looked up at me, then back at the little clown. I could see how his face lit up as he was coming up with an idea. And, finally, he smiled. “I’ll keep him on the nightstand. He can watch over us… And we can call him Peeping Tommy.”

I burst out laughing. “Oh, so he’s an impish little one!”

“I bet he is,” he grinned. “Bet all the things he does when we’re not looking—”

“So, you do like it,” I said brightly. “I’m so glad.”

“Yeah, I like it… It’s just a really fucking weird gift, is the thing, Tiff.”

“What would you have liked, then?” I asked him, raising my eyebrows, while he leaned to the side and left little Tommy on the coffee table, next to the heart-shaped ashtray. “So I know what to be on the lookout for by Christmas.”

Chucky simply shrugged. “I don’t know… A pack of gum. A tie clip. A ham sandwich… Really, Tiff, I’m not that hard to buy for.”

 “Alright, then,” I said with a laugh. “We’re gonna have the best ham sandwiches available for our Christmas dinner.”

“That’d be just terrific,” Chucky smiled, and kissed me again.

I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him closer. As we kissed, deeper and deeper, as his hand got closer and closer to the nail file on my thigh, my unfocused thoughts went to how full he made me feel, how I had never fit somewhere as perfectly as I did in his arms, how after a year, regardless of how short or how long a time it had felt, there was this knowledge that this was the love I was searching for, the only love in which I felt myself. Whoever I was when I was with him, it was the closest thing to a real me than there ever was. I think that back when we first met, when Chucky held the back of my neck and a butcher knife over my head, and I smiled at him and welcomed it, that was the first time I felt I was truly understood. I held him tighter, pressing myself against him fully, wanting to lose myself in him, all the while needing to breathe and needing the kiss to last a little longer. A year was not enough –I needed a lifetime. God, I wanted to be the one to bury him so badly. I wanted him to be the one to bury me.

“Did you ever think we’d end up like this?” I asked him, breaking the kiss, almost in a whisper. “A whole year together?”

“Did you?”

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

I scoffed, wiping his lips with the tip of my fingers –he had my lipstick all over his mouth, like a big red stain. Chucky scrunched his nose, playfully dodging my hand. “I think… I did. You know, I’d almost given up on dating by the time I met you. I had this really clear image in my mind, when I was a kid… Of this beautiful home, and this beautiful spouse, and these beautiful children, and this fairytale life… It was as if everything I did was just killing time till that dream came true. And then, then I had my last breakup,” I sighed.

He smiled proudly. I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, good for you, asshole, but back then I was devastated.”

“Good thing nobody ever broke up with me, then.”

“Nobody ever broke up with me either,” I pointed out. “That didn’t mean it was any easier on me. I was so hopeless, I felt like giving up completely.”

He frowned, still smiling. “Really? What were you gonna do with your life, then, before meeting me?”

I shrugged, clicking my nails. “I don’t know… Guess I was aimless. What about you? Did you have a plan?”

“No… Never,” he replied. I should have imagined it. “Like I told you, Tiff, best thing you can do is live for the day,” Chucky insisted, laying his hands on my shoulders. “You gotta get some fun out of life. Don’t you know? Every day above ground is a good day.”

“You ever thought of becoming a motivational speaker? You’d make a fortune,” I joked. “Back when I lived for the day, it felt more like I was chasing an early grave.”

“Guess that’s part of the fun,” Chucky said, looking away from my face and playing with one of my curlers. I tried to slap his hand off, but he laughed and kept trying to pull one off my hair. “The closest you are to the edge…”

“Guess you’re right,” I said. And I smiled to myself, thinking back of how we met. “Guess I’m the one who knows that best.”

“Bet you are.”

“Stop it,” I said, though I did let out a little giggle when he finally managed to pull a curler off, letting down a thick curl of bleached hair over my face. Chucky laughed too, tucking it away from over my eyes and to the back of my head.

“Don’t overthink it, Tiff. You overthink it, you drain all the fun from it. You’re thinking about what you should have done better, what you should have done instead… As long as you’re in control of the situation, what the hell does it matter?”

“Right,” I remembered his gift, the nail file that I had safely stored in my stocking, and pulled it out, holding it between our faces. “Can’t fear death when you’re the one holding the knife.”

Leaning forward just a bit, I ran the dull side of the file across his face, using the hooked end of it to pull a strand of hair off his face, just like he had done with mine. He stayed still, perfectly still, looking down at my lips, allowing me to stroke his cheek with his gift.

“Live for the day… That’s a good philosophy,” I whispered. I wondered if he was at the very least a little afraid of me right then. If he was, he was really good at not showing it. “What do you live for, Chucky?”

He took a deep breath and thought about it for a second. “I think… I live for that small moment of recognition just before someone’s killed. You know what they say, about your life flashing before your eyes… I think that’s bullshit. I think that the last thing passing through someone’s mind is the realization that there is no way out of this. That you are completely powerless to save yourself.”

Pontificating again. Sometimes I wondered if Chucky ever wanted to be a preacher. Or a Bond villain.

“And you like that?” I had never really cared about whatever went through people’s last moments. I just found their dying, oh-shit faces hilarious.

“I love that,” he smiled. But then he thought it over. “… I love when that happens to someone else.”

I wanted to ask him, is that why he didn’t kill me, that night when we first met? Did I not have that look in my eyes when he threatened me with that knife? Was that why he spared me? But I thought of a better, more straightforward question. One I didn’t quite remember having ever asked him before.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” I asked him, lowering my nail file. “Yet, at least.”

Chucky frowned, his hands holding my hips just a little bit tighter, pulling me closer. “Well, why didn’t you kill me either? God knows you had your fair share of chances.”

I laughed out loud. Certainly, right then and there, I was holding a sharp object dangerously close to his neck. One he had handed me himself, no less. “Isn’t it obvious? Because I—”

But I stopped myself right there. I usually don’t even think about it, when I tell someone I love them. And, besides, we had been a full year together. Still, even though I was sure I had told him, probably more than once, at some point or another, that I loved him, something made me change my mind at the last second.

“… Because I have fun with you.”

Chucky shrugged. “Same back at you.”

That felt good enough. I grinned and pressed my forehead against his, closing my eyes, focusing on the music, on the pressure of his body against mine. We both swayed to the music, kind of like dancing, softly, holding each other close. I wondered why I couldn’t just say it, that I loved him, right then and there. Maybe it was because I knew he knew already. He had to know –I showed him so every single day we were together.

“If you killed me, how would you do it?” I asked quietly. “Top three ways, don’t think too hard about it, just go.”

“Oh, um…!” He threw his head back, going through what was probably a list he already had made up in his mind. “Electrocution, because that’s always a blast… Second, maybe a classic stabbing –or maybe hanging –no, definitely, stabbing’s better—” I rolled my eyes with a little laugh. Of course he would go with stabbing. “… And I’ve always wanted to try splitting someone with an axe or something like that, right down the middle. See what’s inside.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So, being an axe murderer is still on your to-do list?”

“Yeah,” he sighed longingly. “Someday, I know it.” Having said that, Chucky pulled aside a strand of hair that I hadn’t managed to wrap around my curlers. “What about you, Tiff? How would you kill me?”

“Do I have to answer?” I asked him back with a little grin. “After all, now I got a heads up on what you might try to pull on me.”

“Yes, you have to answer,” he insisted. “I already told you mine, now you gotta tell me yours, it’s only fair—”

“Alright, alright,” I huffed, and looked up at the ceiling like he had done. “Hmm…” I did have to think it over. Chucky had obviously just listed the things he wanted to do and hadn’t had a chance yet. But I wanted mine to be more personal. “… I always thought maiming was an interesting approach.”

“C’mon, that’s not a real way to kill someone—”

“Yes, it is! If you make them bleed out—”

“But then that’d be death by blood loss,” he pointed out. “Not death by maiming.”

“Well, beheading, then. The most lethal maiming of the bunch. Then I might be able to keep your head in a shoebox in my fridge,” I said, twirling a lock of his hair around my finger. “Now wouldn’t that be nice.”

He chuckled. “Always the romantic, Tiff—”

“Okay, but second on the list, it would be burning…” I said. “Because I do really want to try that out sometime, too.”

“Jesus—”

“What? Too extreme?”

“You’re choosing all the ones that would keep me dying for longer.”

I laughed. “Oh, come on, as if electrocuting was nice, quick and easy.”

“And your last one?”

“… A shot to the heart. Truly nice, quick and easy,” I said lovingly, patting his chest. “I’d make sure it wouldn’t hurt.”

He smiled and kissed my nose. “How sweet of you.”

I smiled and kissed him back. I rested my head in the small of his neck, pressing my cheek against his shoulder. One of his hands went up and rested on my back, just between my shoulder blades. It was almost like a hug. I felt I could stay like that forever.

“… You know something I am pretty bummed by, Tiff?”

“Yeah?”

“That I wasn’t there to see your first kill,” he said wistfully. “It’s something important. Life changing.”

I giggled as I moved back from his shoulder, facing him again. “Don’t worry about it. He was just an asshole I was sort-of dating.” As with everything that had happened before us, he didn’t really need to know the details of our relationship. Just bringing up my last breakup made me feel a bit sick.

Still, Chucky was now intrigued. “Mm… But how did you do it? Shot to the heart?”

“Well, he asked me to shave him, because he was kind of high and wasn’t very lucid,” I explained with a tilt of my head, as I tried to remember the details. “He handed me the straight razor –I had done this a few times before. And, y’know, one thing led to another...”

He let out a little snicker. “You sliced his throat?”

I smiled to myself. Indeed I did. My first time. “Yes. Slowly at first, until he began screaming… Then I stabbed his throat to keep him quiet, before ending the slit just under his ear.”

“And did he keep quiet?”

“No, he kept doing this… This gurgling sound…” I said, furrowing my brow in concentration, looking back up at the ceiling, trying to remember what it was like. “I don’t know what did him in, really, the blood loss or the choking.”

“Mm… What else?”

I looked down back at him. He was grinning that familiar smirk, gazing at me with that smug look in his face. I huffed. “Alright, listen, just because I didn’t stab him fifty times doesn’t mean it’s not pretty good for a fourteen-year-old—”

He suddenly pulled me to him and kissed me, a different kiss, and then I realized what he had meant with ‘what else’. I closed my eyes and kissed him back, and after a moment I giggled, tugging at his hair to keep him a few inches away, just enough to answer.

“While he kept bleeding out, and trying to say something, I was still holding the razor…” I whispered. “And I had done it slowly enough that it was, you know, soaked—”

He moved down to kiss my neck. A moan slipped from my lips. It took a couple of seconds for me to remember what I was saying.

“… Soaked with blood. And his body went limp, and I knew it was over… And the blood dripped down to my hand –and trickled between my fingers –and it was this warm, thick thing going down my arm, as I kept looking at the razor…”

That seemed to do the trick. He kept kissing, now with a bit of teeth, moving down to my collarbone. I sighed, dropping my new nail file. His hand went down my hips and to my thighs, groping and pressing his fingers against my skin, and I bent a knee, welcoming him between my legs. And, as he pulled down my bra, licking his lips, I thought…

“—Wait –I got an idea, baby.”

Chucky groaned and grumbled, but I pulled my bra strap back up and hurried to my drawers. I had forgotten where I had put those things, if I still had kept them at all… But they had cost me a pretty penny, so I should have better not thrown them away by accident.

He eventually followed me into the bedroom, sulking, with his hands in his pockets. “Are you gonna share it with the class, or…?”

“Just look for a rope I got, they might be in there with the rest of the dolls,” I told him, still searching, making a gesture towards the nightstand.

“Rope?”

I turned to him. “Yeah, and handcuffs.”

His eyebrows shot up in what I could only describe as some kind of thrilled shock. “Handcuffs?”

I took a deep breath and put my hands on my hips. “Are you deaf? Yes, handcuffs, that’s what I said—”

“Are those for what I think they’re for?”

I gave him a smile. “Why else would I have handcuffs for?”

He nodded, looking around the room, and rummaged through the drawers of the nightstand, now slightly more hurried. I stifled a laugh at his sudden excitement. I went on through the drawers, until I finally found them among some old fetish outfits.

“Ah, here’s the sneaky little thing—”

Chucky practically jumped to my side. “So, is that your idea?” he asked, glancing at the stuff in the drawer, then at me, then back at the stuff. His fingers were twitching, as if he had received an electric jolt.

I nodded. “Are you interested?”

He let out a breathless scoff.

“Would this be your first time?” I asked him.

“Uh… I’ve tried it once or twice, but I think it never…” Chucky shrugged with something more or less similar to embarrassment. Or, rather, as close as embarrassment as someone like him could ever get. “It never quite worked out as it’s supposed to.”

“Shame,” I sighed, though, undeniably, this made the whole thing more exciting. “Guess I’ll have to teach you, then. We’ll go straight to the basics, first level, so you don’t get too overwhelmed too quickly,” I said, picking out one of my gloves. But I looked back at him and raised one finger. “Only as long as I’m in charge, Chucky. Got it?”

He let out a deep annoyed groan, like he did when he was about to throw a tantrum. To my surprise, though, he managed to strain through it, and soon was smiling his crooked smile again. “Alright. But next time we switch.”

“Of course,” I said. I pulled out the drawer and emptied it on the bed. “Now: what caught your eye?”

Chucky really had no idea at all. I ended up deciding for us, since he clearly didn’t know the first thing about what to expect. Since fully tying him up could get sticky pretty quickly, handcuffs would do. I gave him a quick explanation of what I had in mind, since I could see just how impatient he was for us to start; and, lastly, I told him about the concept of a safe word, since apparently in those previous attempts he hadn’t had become familiar with it.

“Alright… So, what’s the word?”

“‘Buttons’?” I suggested as I picked up the things we would use, and put the rest away back in the drawer. “You can say it at any moment you find yourself uncomfortable or afraid, and we’ll stop.”

“Afraid, sure—”

“There’s no shame in admitting you’re scared,” I told him with a straight face.

He just laughed, and, at my request, began undressing.

“Ah, ah –you’ll have to take it all off for it, darling,” I said once he stopped. “Briefs too.”

“What?” he frowned. “Why? What for?”

“I need to have full access to you,” I explained with an innocent shrug, as if it was obvious. “And besides, it’ll be much easier if there’s nothing between me and you.”

Chucky huffed, but complied. In the meantime, I watched him, dangling the handcuffs with one hand and holding my getup in the other. Only once he was done and fully naked in front of me, I noticed how awkward he felt by it. I was still clothed. It finally dawned on me. This was a first.

“… You okay, darling?” I asked him gently.

“Yeah,” he replied. The anxiety was obvious in his voice. “When do we start?”

“Almost there,” I smiled, and patted the bed. “Now, lie down.”

He shot me a quick glance that veered a bit too close to uncertainty for my taste, but once again, he complied. I took his wrists carefully and handcuffed them to the bedframe, and then moved down and did the same with his ankles.

“Remember, ‘buttons’,” I said right after the familiar little clicking noise that confirmed it was nice and locked. “Plural.”

“You sure you know how to do this?”

“Are you hesitating, Chucky?”

He scoffed at this. “Of course not. I’m just asking—”

“Don’t worry,” I said, going back to him, and leaving a little kiss on his forehead. “I got some experience.”

And, now with him immobilized, I gave him a wink and disappeared into the bathroom.

“Hey! Where are you going?” he cried.

“You’re ready, but I’m not!”

He groaned. “How long is it gonna take?”

“Just a minute!” I answered in a sing-song voice, taking off the curlers from my hair. I had left the bathroom door open, but I knew that, from where he was lying (and immobilized as he was), Chucky wouldn’t get a single peek.

There was some excitement in finally being able to wear those black knee-high boots for what I had gotten them for. Apart from them, I hadn’t worn any of the stuff for a couple years now, but fortunately everything still fit perfectly. Maybe the corset was a bit tighter than before, but that’s how it was meant to be worn, regardless. I went back and forth on whether I would wear stockings or not, but decided against it. The long black gloves were enough, and since the boots would be staying on, stockings would just be a bother. It may not seem like it, but there really was a lot of thought put into looking that good. Not that Chucky could ever really appreciate it, anyways.

“Hey, Tiff!” he called from the bedroom.

“What?”

“How much longer? My nose’s itching.”

I snorted. “If you can’t be a little patient, then you won’t be able to enjoy it!”

“Well, it better be worth it.”

I finished the lacing, threw on the spiked collar just for old times’ sake, checked myself in the mirror and made sure my makeup was right. I put up my hair and retouched my lipstick, taking a little longer than needed, grinning to myself while thinking of Chucky being bored to death all tied up back in the bedroom. Indeed, a couple seconds later, I heard what sounded like him banging the frame of the bed with the back of his head. I snickered, not even trying to remain serious, and I went back to the bedroom –and he immediately stopped banging his head when he laid eyes on me.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” I smiled, leaning on the doorframe, making sure he could see all of it. “Was it worth it?”

“… We're off to a good start.”

I walked closer to the bed, in no hurry. He automatically tried to move forward –pulling from the handcuffs, as if he had forgotten I had him restrained. I giggled. I think it was only then that the full situation finally hit him.

“Shit.”

“Now we start,” I declared, standing by the end of the bed. “Now, remember, one last time. The safe word is ‘buttons’. Are you gonna remember that, dear?”

 “Yes,” Chucky grumbled. “I’ve already fucking told you—”

“Hey, be polite, now,” I said, raising my eyebrows and a gloved finger. “You’re in no situation to be rude.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Don’t push it, Tiff…”

“Pushing it is what it’s all about,” I said. “Unless you’d rather we just had dinner—”

“I didn’t say that,” he interrupted me. “I didn’t say anything like that.”

“Alright, then,” I sighed. This would be a true test of patience, it seemed. I only had one previous partner in this, but it had always gone quite smoothly. It would be stupid of me to think it would go like that with Chucky, though, of course. He always had to put up a fight.

Still, I thought with a smile, maybe that was what would make this the more fun.

“I’m gonna go soft on you, but you can always ask me to tone it down,” I said, climbing onto the bed, managing to keep my balance as I stood on the mattress on my high heels. “Okay?”

He nodded, but I wasn’t quite sure he heard me. He seemed a bit too distracted.

I smiled wider, down at him. And, slowly, stepped on his thigh, leaning my weight onto my heel. This was usually bad enough for a beginner to start to hurt. For some reason, though, he didn’t even flinch. I frowned. I let almost my whole weight on the heel in one go –and that he definitely felt.

“Fuck—!”

“That bad already, huh?” I giggled and raised my foot. “Baby, we’re just starting—”

“What, now I can’t even swear?” he snapped with a nervous grin. “You’re really being cruel…”

“Oh, I do try,” I smiled. I stepped on his thigh again, pressing a bit slower now. Without me saying anything, he did just try his best to grit his teeth and bear it, staring right up at me, without blinking once. I tilted my head. I pressed down harder. Chucky trembled just slightly. He was breaking. I went down harder, raised my chin, still staring him down.

“… Fuck –shit!”

I laughed and stepped off, dropping to my knees, sitting on his waist. “I win.”

“Congrats,” he muttered.

“Thank you,” I said with a smug smile, playfully drumming my fingers on his chest with my gloved hand, stroking his neck, his collarbone, his shoulders.

His expression softened a bit.

“Help me here a bit,” I said softly as I touched his lips. He shot me a puzzled look, but understood soon enough. He opened his mouth and bit the tip of my fingers. I smiled and pulled my hand off the glove. “Thanks, dear.”

He almost spit the glove to the side. I just had to laugh. There was something delightful in Chucky being restrained like that, he who always had restless hands, who didn’t like being still for long. Even then, just having to take the glove off his face, he was moving his hands in the handcuffs as if, if he just wriggled hard enough, he could get himself free. It was kind of cute.

I leaned down and touched noses. Chucky stretched his neck forward, trying to steal a kiss, but I moved back. He was so predictable. I knew fully well what he would try to pull.

“You really have a problem with patience, you know,” I said, pulling my other glove off and throwing it to the floor. Now, with both hands free, I ran my hands comfortably across his chest. “It’s kind of a pity.”

“Can you blame me?” he smiled.

I smiled back, slinking across him. “No, I guess I can’t.”

I reached down to his thigh, and felt the slight dent on his skin that was still there after I had stepped on it. I looked at it, curious to see whether it would bruise, and then back up to his face. If it still hurt him, it didn’t show. So, I went with the next best thing: I grabbed his thigh, just as he did with mine so many times, only that I had nails I could sink in. He let out a little groan.

“What, too sharp?”

He shook his head, swallowing a curse. “Just sharp enough.”

“Good.”

I dragged my nails up to his hip, scratching hard, feeling how he tensed under me. All of him was taut as a stretched rope, shifting all his weight forward.

“Tiff—"

“Hmm?"

Chucky opened his mouth, but couldn’t say anything. For once, he was speechless. I felt my pulse quickening. I had worked a miracle. I smiled and grabbed his dick. His jaw tensed as he gritted his teeth, with just a few muffled groans.

“You can be as loud as you want, baby,” I cooed in his ear. “I’m not gonna judge—”

“Fuck off, Tiff."

I grabbed him tighter. He let out something quite similar to a yelp.

“Then I’ll have to ask you politely, then,” I said, scratching it ever so slightly with my nails. “Could you please be a bit louder? Just for me. I’d like to hear you moan… It would help me, you know.”

“Jesus—”

“Won’t you give me a little help?” I said now, in a mocking plea.

He barely managed to smile. “If you want it so bad…”

It just had to be on his terms. He finally relaxed just a bit, as I kissed him deep, and he let out a small moan. But I wanted loud.

“Louder,” I ordered, and slapped his thigh. He groaned. “C’mon, darling, loosen up…"

“Make me.”

I slapped his thigh again, harder. “It’s such a boring game if you don’t play along,” I whined.

But I wanted to keep him guessing. I leaned down and kissed him, softer –to then surprise him with a little controlled bite on his lower lip. I tasted the tiniest bit of blood, and licked his lips with the tip of my tongue. He liked that. I sucked his bottom lip, tasting it more. He really liked that. I could tell by the rattling of the handcuffs.

“Such a pity you’re all… Tied up…” I grinned, moving away from him for a moment and kneeling again on the bed. He snorted a laugh. “… Bet you’d wanna do this yourself.”

I pulled down my panties, slowly, staring into his eyes, daring him to hold my gaze. He just couldn’t do it. Almost immediately he looked down, lips parting, as my hands went down my thighs, dragging the panties along.

“Bet you’d like to help.”

I sat on the space between his legs, and took the panties off from mine, off from my boots, and tossed them to the floor along with the forgotten gloves. I allowed him a moment to look down and enjoy it.

“Wouldn’t you?”

He chewed his upper lip. I smiled to myself, getting back on my knees, and sighed as I ran my hands over his arms.

“Such a pity—”

“Then let me loose, if it makes you so sad,” he said quickly, glancing back up to my face.

“So you wanna stop?”

“… No,” he said, after a few seconds of hesitation. “No. Keep going.”

We were really going soft this first time, only restraining him, barely doing anything else. The biting was usual for us. The scratching was a bit rarer, but I had nails, and I used them liberally. The slapping, that was new. But that was enough. Just to know I could do whatever I wanted to him, and that his pride would get too in the way for him to protest, was quite enough.

“Chucky…”

He looked up. I stroked his cheek, gently at first, before beginning to dig my nails onto his skin.

“Does it scare you, that I can do anything to you right now? Anything –and you can’t stop it?”

There was more metal clinking. I laughed. He really couldn’t get the whole being handcuffed thing through his head.

“I’m not scared.”

“You sure?”

I dragged my hand from his cheek to his throat. He stretched his neck, knowing what I had in mind. I sank my nails on his skin before opening my hand, stretching my fingers, and closing them around his neck.

“… You sure, Chucky?”

It was delightful, to see that little bit of fear in his eyes. I snickered, letting go. While unlacing the first few eyelets of the corset, I stared him down again. I wasn’t sure yet if he liked that half as much as I did –but God, it felt good to me. Focusing on his eyes, on his face, as I stood over him, was priceless. I just needed to hear the handcuffs rattling against the bedframe to know just how much he wanted to do things himself. Moving my hips forward and shifting my weight, and taking one deep breath, I slipped a hand down the front of the loosened top of the corset and grabbed my tit. Gazing at him, it was too easy to pretend it was his hand.

“Fuck…”

I smiled, closing my eyes for a moment, unlacing a few eyelets more. I felt his thighs moving from under my legs, trying to get closer. I sighed, freeing my chest from the corset, and heard a little shaky sigh coming from him as well.

“Tiff—”

Finally I smiled, opened my eyes and decided Chucky had enough to watch. I stretched my arms around his head and leaned down slowly, face to face. My chest barely grazed his. He looked down, his pulse racing, his mouth watering. I finally pressed myself against him, my chest against his, my hips against his, feeling him tensing up under me, and rested my head in the small of his neck. He gave me that nice moan I had been wanting so bad.

“Oh, hun—” I moaned in return.

He breathed against my ear. He wanted to say something –anything –he was desperate to have the last word –but his mind was blank. Me, I knew where his mind was.

I kissed his neck, softly at first, then biting down. He gave a little cry. I bit harder. I arched my back, making him focus on the pain. I couldn’t hear his breathing anymore –he was holding it. I pulled away ever so slowly, pulling the skin with my teeth. If I pressed just a little more, I could do some serious damage, I thought. I could rip the skin. I could rip out his throat like a wild dog. It took a lot of effort not to do it just out of sheer curiosity.

I let go. He breathed freely. I smiled and kissed again, just to keep him on edge. I went up, to his jaw, leaving little kisses all over it, while he pushed his head back, encouraging me to go ahead. I kissed and sucked and nibbled, thinking of all the marks I was gonna leave on him. My love. My Chucky.

I was getting wet already.

Finally, I threw my head back. He moved along with me, not wanting me to stop yet –but once he got to have a good look at me, he smiled again.

“God, look at you, babe…”

I grinned as I tilted my head to the side. “You haven’t had that view before, had you?”

He glanced over all of me again before fixing his gaze into my eyes. I ran my hand from his neck, to his chest, to his waist, to my thigh, up my waist and onto my chest. My other hand rested on his naked hip, holding him down and as still as I could.

“Easy…”

I stretched my hand towards his mouth. Right on cue, he opened up and sucked on two fingers hungrily, licking them, still staring into my eyes. He was finally doing as he was told without protesting. I pulled my wet fingers from between his lips and stroked my nipple, moaning quietly. He sighed. More rattling. I closed my eyes.

“You’re thinking that’s me…”

I smiled and nodded, biting my lip. My other hand travelled down and stroked, just barely, just over my pussy. He wouldn’t do that, though, I reminded myself. He always hurried a bit too much. He wasn’t a teaser. Not like that, at least.

“Tiff, you can’t fuck yourself like I can.”

I opened my eyes and looked down at him. Chucky was smiling his usual crooked grin. I don’t know why, but something about his tone just pushed me to it.

I slapped him, hard, right across the face. He looked at me in surprise, too shocked to even curse me out in response.

“Don’t get too cocky, dear,” I said coldly. Suddenly I wasn’t in the mood to smile. “Remember who’s handcuffed, and who’s on top.”

And, to my surprise, he grinned even wider. He gulped before talking back.

“Then act like it.”

A chill went down my spine. I slapped him again –he laughed –there were three thin red lines now crossing his cheek, where I had accidentally scratched him. I didn’t mean to do that. For a moment I was nervous, for just a couple of seconds, before he opened his mouth…

“You hit like a girl, Tiff—”

Again, harder. There was red dripping out his nose. He threw his head back and cackled, his eyes shining, and licked a bit of blood that had splattered over his lip.

“Now that’s more like it—”

I cupped his face, leaned down and kissed him hard. I couldn’t stop myself any longer. I grabbed his knee, still kissing him, and forced it higher, even though I could hear the metallic scraping of the handcuffs against the bedframe. I straddled his thigh. I grunted –it was warm where I had slapped him –and I began riding it.

Chucky let out a long groan. More rattling, more kicking, writhing furiously like a captured snake. He was tensing up to a dangerous degree.

“You’re gonna dislocate your shoulder, baby, if you keep at it,” I warned him gently, pushing him down with my hand on his chest. “And the pain of relocating it… It might be too much for one night.”

He let out a sudden laugh between gritted teeth.

“Stop squirming… Just relax,” I insisted, slowing down for a moment. “It’ll be easier.”

He closed his mouth, gazing at me with wide open eyes, and just nodded. There was a throbbing vein popping on his temple. But, slowly, through quiet breaths, he managed to loosen up a bit.

“… Good boy.”

I couldn’t have ever expected the result that would have on him. As soon as I said these words, Chucky got as flustered as a nun at a strip club.

“J-Jesus fuck, Tiff—” he managed to mumble.

My eyebrows shot right up. He never blushed before, even less this bright red. It looked like he was almost glowing. That, added to the blood smeared on his face, the scratches and the slapping…

“You really like this, huh, darling?” I hummed, grinding slow but steady on his thigh, just for him to get a taste of what was coming. “You look so cute like that…”

He whimpered, shutting his eyes tight, turning his face to his shoulder and hiding under his hair. The whimpering I liked, but not so much that he could still move enough to hide from me. Running my hand across his warm and reddened cheek, I got to his scalp, grabbed his hair and yanked it.

“Look at me,” I ordered. “Wasn’t that what you wanted?”

He still couldn’t say a word –just panted, just whined, like a little tortured animal. It was the loudest he had been in the year we had been together.

“You’re such a brat,” I said with a smile.

I reached for his dick. I barely had to graze it with the tip of my nails for it to stand on edge.

I giggled. “Well, that was quick—”

“Fuck—”

“Ah, ah, don’t you dare close your eyes,” I said, patting his cheek. “I want to see those baby blues.”

Whatever sort of release of tension he had managed, he got back in a second. Whatever, I thought. I liked watching him writhing regardless. I kept grinding against his thigh, harder and faster, pulling and stroking his dick along. Chucky groaned. It wasn’t easy for him to keep his eyes open.

“You like that, don’t you?”

Raising his sight to the ceiling, he took a deep breath and smiled, humming quietly. I stopped. He looked back at me with a sudden frown and a flash of anger in his eyes.

“Why d’you stop?”

“I asked you,” I repeated softly but firmly, leaning forward to him and brushing some hair off his face. “You like that?”

His expression softened a bit. “… Yes.”

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes…”

“Does it hurt?”

“Just… Just a little.”

“Want to keep going?”

He was so impatient. I could see him gathering all his strength not to curse me out. I just smiled, like he always did when he teased me. After a moment, he finally gritted his teeth and nodded.

“Use your words,” I ordered.

“I want to keep going,” he said quietly.

“I can’t hear you, hun.”

“I said, I want to keep going,” he repeated as he raised his voice.

“Then you better be good,” I said. “Tell me you’ll be good.”

Something had changed in the way he looked at me. There was still that flash of pure white-hot anger, which I had seen so many times before. There was something else there now, though. Chucky had been needy and desperate countless times –but never so clearly –it had never been so plainly reflected on his face. He was unraveling. The smug mask that was his face was cracking to reveal those little peeks I could only get a few times, when he couldn’t manage to keep himself quiet and composed, and showed his hunger. He knew he was good at making me tremble and moan and shriek (he knew and was proud of it), but too often he forgot I knew exactly what got him ticking, too. The big difference between us was that he was always too eager, too hurried to get to the good stuff. Me, I could be patient. I could undo him slowly, carefully, like unwrapping a present, or gutting a fish. If I wanted, I could have him begging for it.

Charles Lee Ray, begging. It was a lot less rare than it sounded.

“I’ll… Be good.”

I smiled at him, leaned down and let him have a tiny peck on the lips, as a reward. He leaned forward and managed to get me to linger on a kiss a moment longer. I giggled into his mouth.

“You said you’d be good…”

I reached for the nightstand and picked a condom, quickly ripped it open, and slipped it on him. He let out a delighted little breath of relief.

“We’re not done, baby,” I said. “Not yet.”

Pushing myself forward with my knees, I moved away from his thigh –he let out the tiniest, most adorable cry –and gripped his dick. He began breathing heavier, his chest and shoulders moving up and down with each pant. The rattling returned. I pushed it between my wet lips, spreading my thighs to the sides so he could see exactly what I was doing to him, how I was taking him in. But he wouldn’t get in yet. Not yet.

I leaned a little bit forward, resting my weight on my hand and my hand on his chest. He was hard, he was wanting, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction yet. I still wanted to have a little bit more fun.

“You really are fucking cruel—”

“But don’t you like it?” I asked with the biggest grin.

“God… I love it.”

I smiled, stroking his cheek. He leaned against my hand, pressing the side of his face to my palm. All I wanted was to look at him, to keep watching how he looked back up at me with that special type of affection that was so close to admiration. As if I was divine.

Just one more kiss, I told myself, breaking character. I leaned forward across the few inches that were still between us and kissed him long, and deep, and laughed against his mouth when his wrists rattled again, and I reached out for his right hand and intertwined our fingers. His hands were cold. Maybe there was little blood running through them. Whatever the case, Chucky didn’t complain. He kissed me back, and meanwhile, holding onto his hand, I moved ahead and began rocking my hips, pressing my pussy against his dick. Slowly at first, slow enough that, even with the condom on, he could feel how wet I was. But I was eager, probably just as eager as him, and it didn’t take long before I got moving faster, and by then I needed to throw my head back and take in a deep breath, and as much as I might have wanted to keep kissing him, we both knew this was coming.

I loved Chucky, of course I did, but I don’t think he ever looked as beautiful, as angelic as he did then: his face blushed, his mouth open and moaning and red from my smudged lipstick, his face shiny with sweat, his eyes tightly shut and his usually angry eyebrows, this time, raised and furrowed in needy despair. It was like falling in love with him all over again.

I was getting impatient, too.

Once I was more or less sure this was as far as we could both go while holding back, I finally reached behind me, turning around a little bit, like one would when parking a car. Feeling my way underneath my butt I grabbed his dick and, gently, pushed it up with my thumb and helped it find its way inside. I closed my eyes. Slowly, very slowly, I moved back down, feeling him sliding right in.

“Oh –that’s the spot,” I sighed with a smile and a shudder. “Mm…”

Chucky pressed the back of his head against the pillow, as I closed my thighs just a bit –clenching harder –letting myself fall on him, on my knees, against his legs. Then up again, slowly, before going down, and up, and down, savoring it. He looked like he was about to cry out. I grinned even bigger and closed my eyes again, wanting so badly to free his hands so he could hold me. Now, though, what could I do to make this one special? It was becoming hard to think clearly.

“Look up at me,” I ordered, my voice cracking.

He didn’t seem to hear me anymore. I slid my fingers through his hair, the top of his head, and yanked hard to call his attention.

“Look at me… Look at me, dammit.”

At last, he opened his eyes. They were glassy, and tired, but he smiled, and raised his chin, and looked at me. His eyes were so clear and light, I could see myself in them. I could see him seeing me. I had been wanting that so badly. In these eyes, I was glorious. I was the most beautiful creature that ever existed. I was wanted, and loved. I was finally seen.

I grinded harder against him, panting, faster, pressing down. Soon enough, I was moaning, and he was writhing, and the bed was creaking and we were at that point in which it was just a matter of time.

“Tiff—”

“Not yet…” I said between gritted teeth. My voice went higher as my heart beat faster and my mind was clouded to the point I could barely form a sentence. “J-just a little longer…”

“Tiff, please—”

“Just a little…”

He had never sounded like that before. God, it was so hard for me to pretend I wasn’t being torn to pieces by it. I understood how Chucky felt. Pressing himself to stay in character, to put on a front and adjust his mask. But it was slipping. And mine was next.

It was a game, like always. Who blinked first. Who laughed first. Who came first.

And he finally closed his eyes and came. The begging had lasted too little for my taste, but it always felt good to win. It was just a little bit longer before I came too, with a big smile, triumphant. And, as we both tried to breathe again, I noticed my arms trembling, and how Chucky himself was trembling ever so slightly. It definitely didn’t happen like that often. I knew I would love for it to happen often.

“Alright…”

I stood up on my wobbly knees and got off the bed. The corset, which at first was like a second skin, now felt too tight for comfort. I ripped it off me and dropped it to the side. Only then, once I managed to regulate my breathing, I decided I deserved a few seconds more in the afterglow, and, taking off the spiked collar, plopped right beside him on the mattress, lying my head on his left arm. Chucky’s face was still slightly blushed, red from my slapping, a mess of smudged lipstick (and I was probably not much better), and crossed by the bright red scratches I had left on him. I moved closer to examine them, and touched them with the tip of my finger, just to make sure I hadn’t hurt him too badly. It didn’t seem to sting anymore. It would heal quickly and nicely.

“Did you have fun?” I asked him.

Chucky smiled, his eyes closed. “… What d’you think?”

“I think you took it like a champ.”

I uncuffed him, carefully, and checked he didn’t get a cut or something.

“Tiff…” he mumbled, gazing up at me, still taking shaky breaths. “… I love you.”

I smiled at him. “I know, sweetface.”

And I kissed him once, sweetly, and snuggled against him, his warm cheek against my forehead, and with my ear against his heart, comforted in its steadying rhythm.

[ducknotinarow]

[2k7 Teen!Ariel and Mikey - hughughughug]

Ariel was quiet as she approached Mikey, a bot of white orchids, blue hyacinths, and lily of the valley's, in her hands. Apologies, that's what the flowers meant. Least, they're supposed to represent someone saying sorry. Ariel owned a lot of those right now. Mikey the biggest one though,

"Uhm, Uncle Mikey," She speaks up, "I uh, I bought you some flowers, for your greenhouse..."

It was the most she had said to him in a very long time. Ariel had sort of been avoiding him for a very long time. Let the anger consume her, let it ruin so much. Ariel blamed no one but herself. Placing the pot of flowers down, she begins to rub at her hands, frowning softly as she thinks,

"Uncle Mikey?" Ariel says softly, "I'm, I'm sorry, for all the things I said and did to you, and for being so angry at you, it wasn't fair of me to be so mean, and I'm sorry."

She didn't want to be angry at him anymore. Ariel loved her Uncle Mikey, she really did. Ariel lifted a sleeve to her face, quickly wiping her eyes, because she really did feel awful,

"You're my Uncle and my best friend and I want to be best friends with you again, if you want that too," Ariel admits, "Because I really am sorry Uncle M'n'M."

| Muse interaction

Mikey was starting at a steam eyes pointed out towards the leafs sprouting from it. Some browning at the ends he needed to cut them off. He learned that you could use the dead leafs al like fertilizer for the plants. From when he was looking something over with Yvonne. Least when he asked she made it sound pretty easy. Would also come in handy not like he could that easily well go and get that stuff on his own. Sure April could always help but? well since everything he was trying to show some independence here. Maybe that was why he did what he had back then. The fear of what to do as everyone around him seemed able to move forward on to paths he no longer could follow them on. Something about always thinking it be at least the four of them together, Snipping at the leafs and cursing under his breath when he cut one he shouldn't have. Trying to give a shake of his thoughts but it was hard to escape them right now.

Mikey could still hear everything Ariel told him that day how upset and angry she was with him how she lashed out and told him the wrongs he committed. How could he not know that? He was the one who did it. And worse he could even say he was pushed or forced. Maybe a little but in the end it was a choice HE made all on his own. Leo was doing the leader thing improving being better. Raph and Don were starting families. It just left Mikey feeling stuck. So when he was left to speak with Karai? he knows it was stupid and he should have ya know thought it through more. Mikey honestly expected to be fully kicked out of his family after everything went down. Because of him once again there is a Shredder roaming around in the world after all. Sure it's not the world ending kind of Shredder but still. His brothers most of all should have been the ones upset with him to tell him off scold him even.

Not that they hadn't nah he got a lot of that Leo being disappointed in him hurt, Raph's lack of usual insults when getting on his case was dreadful, and that lack of understanding in Don's voice.

He cut another leaf. Donatello. All his brothers said they forgave him Leo understood he been tempted himself. Raph? said Mikey dealt with enough once getting a proper sorry at least. Had Mikey not done that enough with Don? He knows he apologized to them all but maybe Don needed more? Why else would it hurt him so deep that his own daughter could hear about it? Mikey set the clippers down with a heavy sigh.

"Heh sorry dude, I'm gonna make you look green and bald like me if I keep going." his plants had become his best companions lately, Since he hadn't gone back to the lair in a good long while after all. Ariel was there a lot, she should Leo there and Master Splinter too. She didn't get much room to roam anyway so he could retreat and give her the space she needed. Another sigh. Mikey wasn't sure what hurt the most here, how Ariel lashed out and told him everything he thinks and feels all the time as if she was shaped by the thoughts that ran through his mind all the time. Or knowing that his brother didn't really forgive him. Even after asking for so much help with this place. It's why Mikey was trying not to do that anymore. Not just with Don with everyone.

"it's lonely here." He says, course it is Mikey been basically isolating himself. "Wonder if Splinter been watching any new stories of his. Im best weeks behind on the one we watch. I kind of miss Raph being a jerk to me, and Casey. Miss Summer telling me about her games. Miss Leo trying to get me to train with him. Miss my girl nights with April and Von...can't really do them here. Could maybe if I got more places to sit?" He'd been sleeping on an old couch he found so it was basically his bed. "Hope Ari's okay...I know things went down bad with Bishop after all." he was there but not for the aftermath of course. Mikey just sighed once more before he set his hand son to the surface of the table before pushing off to get back up to his feet.

Pruning could wait he guesses. But that when he freezes even with the foggy glass of the green house its very easy to tell when someone was here. More so when your as tall as Ariel is. Mikey didn't have much time to stand and think he made his way to the door and opened it quickly. Left to just stare at his niece unsure what to even say. Shell he didn't even know why she was here in the first place. Let alone with flowers. Mikey was starting to get an idea for the different kinds but some of the flowers she had he never really see before. Still he was unsure why she had them. This couldn't be going against her want for space right? She clearly was here because she wished to see him right? HE just offers her his best smile.

"Uhm, Uncle Mikey,"

"Uh hey Squirt? you uh lost?" He jokes because he doesn't know what else to do here.

"I uh, I bought you some flowers, for your greenhouse..."

She likely heard about it from one of the others. He looked them a moment and smiles more they were pretty the ones he didn't the know of to. Guess he'll have a reason to though. He could ask? Be a good conversation starter. He was happy with the little bit she had said now even. The most she's spoken to him since the day she got upset with him. He really hopes she stays. They have so much to catch up on to tall about so many sorrys he owed to her he been thinking them through every since still unsure whi h one was the best.

Hardly noticing how Ariel had to set the pot of flowers down since he hadn't reach for them still yet. He wasn't sure if that breech the need for space here. Lookong over to them he knows the lily's of the valley for sure they actually were a favorite of his. So, getting to see living ones?

"Uncle Mikey?"

Looking back to her, offering a faint smile. He had so much to say his mouth was trembling and his beak felt like it was on fire. The words just on the tip of his tounge. But he promised he would give her space. Thar meant the space to decide how much content she was okay with.

"I'm, I'm sorry, for all the things I said and did to you, and for being so angry at you, it wasn't fair of me to be so mean, and I'm sorry."

Mieky didn't really understand why she was saying sorry. Far as he was sure it should be him who has to day he's sorry.

"You're my Uncle and my best friend and I want to be best friends with you again, if you want that too,"

Okay thar got to Mikey easily. See her wip that tear away trying her best to say sorry and mine her side know. Mikey was scared to shead tears himself moving his mask down to hang around his neck so he could better wipe at his own eyes. Her tear may be regert or sorrow but for him? It was pure joy. He turly thought she never wanted anything to do with again.

"Because I really am sorry Uncle M'n'M."

"Aw come here" He reaches out his arms and brings her in for a good tight squeeze. He can't quite match Raph in hugs but he's sure his are warmer than anyone's. "Ari, ya don't got to apologize family-" He let his words trail off. Family dosent need to apologize, he used to believe that but with what he knows about Don? Still hanging over her hang even in this moment?

"Ya don't gotta apologize to me at least." He corrects before letting go for a moment to better look up at her even with tear filled sky blue eyes. "I should be saying sorry anyway I didn't know you were upset and I should have checked on you I guess I somehow missed the signs and I'm sorry about thst kiddo." He tries to explain. "You always gonna be my best friend though even if we have a spat again. U could never leave behind my sidekick right?" He offers before moving to grab the pot of flowers.

"How about this, you help me find places and jome.for these and we can ot all even, yeah?"

[tpc-tangled-au]

Chapter Six: Seeing The Lights

The magic of the fireflower healed the queen. And, just before dawn, a healthy baby boy—a prince—was born.

I’ll give you a hint, me lad: that’s your own Nuncle!

And for a time, his childhood was just as golden as his wild hair. Yes, it was, Baron, you needn’t give me that look. It truly was. I know.

Melisande was just closing the lid of her little box when something—and in a haunted castle, something could have been anything—burst into the kitchen like a fireball. If she hadn’t just set it on the counter, she’d have dropped it. But before she had time to think about the box, the fireball shouted in excitement.

“Sharp Eyes! Come see!”

She gasped and spun round to face the golden-haired boy and his grin. “Why, you silly, you nearly frightened me! Come see what?”

“It’s my birthday!”

“Aye, happy birthday again!” Her blue eyes widened. “Oh! I forgot your present! It’s still in my room!” And not wrapped either: the little felt cap, fashioned into the shape of a knight’s helmet, was still only hidden inside a pillowcase (and very carefully at that—she didn’t want the plume to break).

“But it’s not present time!” The five year old prince stamped his feet eagerly. “It’s time to come see! So come! Hurry! Hurry!” And he started pulling at her sleeve with impatience.

“Slow down, Naphetali! See what?”

He started to speak, but then stopped dead, staring at her for a moment. He looked perfectly flabbergasted. “You don’t amember?!”

“Ummm…” Little Melisande thought over all the things she could remember about her royal friend’s birthday. But she was six. There was only so much that stuck with her from year to year. “No?”

She almost expected Naphtali to be mad or disappointed. But she should’ve known better. A few seconds’ worth of time, and a humongous grin spread between his ears. “Then it’ll be a surprise! You can have a birthday surprise too! Oh, that’s defin’ly better.”

“Really?”

“YES! Now come here! Come see!”

And with that, he snatched her little hand and dashed off with her.

The pair of them scurried down the halls as quickly as if they were two little castle mice (though this castle had more ghosts than mice). They passed very few others, living or dead. That was something Melisande had noticed—there was almost no one in the castle. Most of them were gone, though she didn’t know or remember why.

That was why she was in the kitchen: she wanted to sneak some bits for her medicine box. Plants, herbs, little snips of things people weren’t using. Some of the things her grandad put in his medicine box. And she didn’t want to be in the way while she was getting them. Well, she also didn’t want anyone to see her doing it. She didn’t want anyone to take it.

“Oh, wait! My box!” And Melisande tried to stop, to go back. What if someone found it and didn’t know what it was? Or what if they did know?

But he pulled her on. “We’re gonna be late! We’ve got to hurry!”

In their hurry, they nearly barrelled right into two of the few still inside. When Melisande caught sight of their faces, she gasped so hard she could’ve inhaled her tonsils. But Naphtali only brightened.

“Hullo, Father! Hullo, Mother!”

King Frederick, the great lord and master who towered immensely over Melisande’s head, laughed. “You best watch your steps, son, or you’ll knock your royal mother right off her feet!”

“Oh! Pardon, Mother.” He let go his hold of Melisande to bow in apology.

But his mother, the wise Queen Eudoria whom any girl in the kingdom might want to learn from, only smiled. “All right, I pardon. At ease, my gallant little knight.”

Naphtali put his hands behind his back, but stood with feet together. Not quite how Melisande had seen soldiers stand “at ease.” But she had no time to consider it, for suddenly, the great kingly voice was speaking again… to her.

“You’re Jacob’s little granddaughter, aren’t you, lass?”

Speechless, Melisande bobbed a curtsy.

“She is!” Naphtali went on, stepping out of his ‘at-ease’ position. “She has a medicine box just like his, too!” At that, the startled Melisande shook his arm—she didn’t want it to be talked about! But Naphtali didn’t seem to notice. “It’s got all sorts of little bits and things! She left it in the kitchen. Oh! We need to make sure nobody messes with it!”

“Well, I’ll surely let the servants know,” nodded the king.

“Where are you and your little friend off to in such a rush?” asked the queen. “Or are you just excited to see the—”

“Mother!” exclaimed the prince. “It’s a surprise, because she doesn’t amember the—” He clapped his hands over his own mouth, as if stuffing the secret back inside. “You know!”

“Ahh, I see.” Queen Eudoria nodded knowingly. “Well, you have our leave to go. Don’t want you to be late to see your own celebration, do we?”

“Oh, thank you grandly, Mother! Farewell! And farewell, Father! Let’s hurry, Sharp Eyes!” He grabbed her hand and took off again, hardly giving her enough time to curtsy in parting. The two monarchs laughed as the youngsters departed.

“Where are we going?”

“Someplace high,” he grinned, never ceasing to move and run. “I wanted to go up to Ollie’s Ridge, but we’d be too late to see it if we walked all that way.”

She stumbled as she tried to keep up, and picked up her skirts with one hand. “Thank you, by the way. For making sure nobody touched my box.”

“Oh!” Naphtali gave her a funny look. “I didn’t know that was something to thank about.”

“Well… well, it is to me.”

They soon burst through a little door and out onto some of the battlements. Here, Melisande thought they might stop. But her friend kept bobbing and weaving and darting, constantly swiveling his head to look. Almost as dizzily as when he tried to end a dance. Well… perhaps not that dizzy.

“Aren’t we there?”

“It’s not high enough!” he protested, searching with a little agitation. “You’ve got to see it best!” His wandering eyes lighted on something. At that, his pattering footsteps stilled, and an excited grin was blazoned across his face.

Melisande followed his gaze. He was staring at a rooftop. One particular rooftop, higher than the battlements. Higher than anything in the castle, in fact, except for one, still-in-the-making tower. She’d seen some of the page boys climb up the side to that high rooftop on dares.

“It’s perf-ket! Why, it’s almost as high as Ollie’s Ridge itself!” And he scurried off toward it.

“Naphetali, wait!” This time, she did pull against him, eyes widening as they neared the side. “We can’t climb up there!”

“I’m not frightened! And you’ve got to see!” He let go her hand as they came to the battlements nearest it. He tried to clamber up onto them (though his legs were a little short for that). Melisande tugged on him again, but only lightly. She didn’t want to pull too hard and make him lose his balance. Her grandfather had tended too many lads who’d gotten hurt that way.

Before he could even get to a standing position, however, a figure in a red uniform swooped in and set him sturdily back on the ground. Melisande quietly sighed in relief. She couldn’t bear to see her friend get hurt like the other boys.

“Careful, Highness!” said a gently cautious voice, as the man attached to it steadied Naphtali on his feet. “I can’t let you go hurt yourself on your birthday.”

“But I wasn’t going to get hurt, Travers! I was just trying to get up high!”

A purposely patient tone entered his voice, as if repeating a well-worn conversation. “Well, accidents still happen, little prince. A lot of things happen when you don’t mean them to.”

“Well, not me.”

“And,” he added, settling a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “if we don’t hurry now, you might go and miss the ceremony when you don’t mean to!” And the raven-haired soldier started urging him along, though not roughly. “Let’s get you to your royal parents, Your Highness. I’m sure they’re waiting.”

Naphtali squirmed, trying to turn back. “Oh, but Travers—”

“Excuse me, Mr. Travers,” put in Melisande, tugging on his sleeve, “but the King and Queen did give him leave to go. I was with him when they said it.”

Travers turned his gaze toward her, head tilted. “Is that so?”

“Yes!” exclaimed Naphtali, whipping round. “They said I can go, and we haveto get up high, because Sharp Eyes doesn’t amember the li—I mean, the thing she has to see! And she has to see, cause it’s a surprise!”

The soldier glanced between them, seeming surprised himself. Then, he smiled softly. Melisande liked it when he smiled like that. It was kind. “Well… I suppose if it’s a surprise…”

“Yes! Yes! I can go!” And he started to scramble for the battlements again.

“Not that way, though! I do still have my duty to protect you, Prince Prometheus.”

Naphtali frowned, more at the name than anything else. But the man wasn’t finished. When he bent down to their level and continued, it was in a low, almost shrewd voice.

“But if you’d like to get to the height before it starts, and safely…” He leaned in with the utmost confidentiality. “There is a shortcut.”

Melisande’s eyes widened, and her mouth fell open. When she glanced over at her friend, his face wore the same look, if a bit more exaggerated.

“Just over to the right,” whispered Travers, jerking his head a little to the side, “there’s a pair of gargoyles. Slip behind them, and you’ll find a little stairway that winds through the stone. Then a flat place… and three large steps… and at the end is the rooftop.”

“Hurrah!” Naphtali clapped his hands, and his voice was half-hushed with the secrecy of the information.

“But…” Melisande hesitated, “mightn’t it be a danger?” She’d never been up on a rooftop before. She’d climbed trees, and she’d dreamed of flying, and she wasn’t really afraid of heights. But she couldn’t get the thought of those boys out of her head.

Yet it seemed Travers knew her fears already. “It was made to be a safe place to stand. It’s flat at the top, and wide. And see there?” He bent toward her and pointed it out. “Along the lower edge?”

Melisande nodded. “It looks like a fence.”

“It’s very like one. It’s meant to keep people from simply rolling off, and not just with a physical barrier.” When her glance fell, confused, he tilted her chin up with a gentle finger. “People may have hurt themselves in climbing foolishly up the sides, but no one has ever fallen from that rooftop. No one.”

At last, Melisande returned the smile. It seemed to brighten his mood as well.

But there was one whose mood never needed brightening. “Thanks, good Travers!” he cried, saluting widely. “You needn’t fret for us any longer!” Naphtali started to hurry off, but something stopped him, spinning him on his heels. “But are you sure the passage is still there? You don’t think the gargoyles moved it?”

For the first time that day (at least that Melisande had seen), Travers laughed. “Your Highness, I’m sure. If the gargoyles had moved it, I’d know. After all, I’ve been a soldier in your father’s service for five years! I know this castle like…” He held up his gloved left hand. He glanced at it. Then, on second thought, he lowered it. “…like the back of my hand.”

“And a good hand, too!” Then, with his own, Naphtali tugged along on Melisande’s. “Come now, Sharp Eyes! We must hurry ever so much if we want to see! Hurry!”

“I am!” But before she followed, she turned to the soldier and curtseyed. “Thank you kindly, Mr. Travers.”

At this, he said nothing. But he smiled that smile of his, and bowed slightly with a hand over his heart. And Melisande hurried on after her friend. Her little friend, anyway.

The two of them ran right and soon found the foretold gargoyles, side by side, as if guarding the castle’s secrets. “Greetings, good sirs!” saluted Naphtali cheerily as they passed. “It’s my birthday, did you know?”

“You’re doing quite fine jobs, too, gentlemen,” she added, hiding a secret smile of her own at the prince’s courtesy.

“Gentlemen monsters!” Naphtali laughed, but more delighted by the thought than scornful.

Just as Travers had said, there was a little stairway just beyond. Naphtali hurried them up it, pulling and urging. Melisande had to slow him a little to keep either from tripping. As they rushed, her friend chattered.

“Travers is really a fine fellow, you know, but he’s too official.”

“Well, he is a soldier.”

“But you call me Naphtali! You don’t mind! But he keeps calling me the other name.”

“Promitheus is your right name, though! And it’s sort of a nice name.”

“I don’t think so.” He frowned. “That’s why I picked a better one, from that old story Lazarus told us! Sir Naphtali was a knight of King Thomas the Fearless, and he helped fight off the shamans of Mount Redcap!” He brandished an imaginary sword and lunged at lengthening shadows.

“Aye, and a man of great name. I like it too.” She cocked her head, thinking it over. “But perhaps, someday, you might have both names, and put them together for a grand royal title. Naphetali Promitheus the Golden-Haired!”

“Hmm, I don’t think so!”

With that, and with a little smile, Melisande let it go. There was no talking him into it. He had an idea in his head, and he was holding onto it. He always did. He was so funny.

The stairs ended in a flat place, still surrounded by stone and tile. There were the three large steps leading up. But the two of them were too small to have any kind of view. The winter sky overhead was shifting from purple to blue.

“Don’t look!”

“What?”

“It’s almost gonna start, you have to close your eyes!”

She eyed the steps uncertainly. “But I’ll trip.”

“No you won’t, I’ll make you not trip! That’s the knightly thing to do, just like Father says. He’s always helping Mother not to trip.”

Hesitating, she covered her eyes with one hand. With the other, she gripped his tight.

Despite his best efforts, she did stumble a time or two. Partly, it was her own skirts getting in the way. Partly, it was the stairs themselves, which would have taken a man only a large step to mount. For them, it was all clambering and climbing. But he never let her lose her balance. He never let go of her hand.

They came to the end of the third and last step, and Melisande felt flat ground (though it wasn’t really ground) beneath her shoes. Still, Naphtali led her along, walking now instead of climbing. They stopped. Moved a few feet over. Stopped again.

“Now… look!”

Melisande opened her eyes at last. And she saw. At last, she saw.

The seeing took her breath away. From that high rooftop, she could see, from all over the town, from everywhere in sight, things floating into the air. So many colours, glowing like winter fireflies, like cardinals and greenfinches and bluebirds all with stars inside them. It was high, and huge, and heavenly.

“The lights!”

“Uh-huh!” She could sort of see Naphtali nod proudly, but she did not turn to look.

“Oh, Naphtali, the lights! I didn’t remember!”

“That’s why it’s a good surprise! Aren’t they so much nicer than fireworks?”

Melisande laughed. Out of awe and delight, she laughed, staring into the sky. She'd certainly dreamed of flying before. But oh, to fly now,  with the lights! To soar surrounded by this colour and beauty! Her breath escaped her, clouding the cold air.

She glanced at her friend, about to reply. But she stopped. Naphtali was staring at her, mouth slightly open. His grey eyes gleamed wide in the light.

“What?”

“I never heard you laugh afore.”

“Oh.” Melisande shrank, just a little. “Is it bad?”

“Nuh-uh.” He shook his head, his grin returning. “’s nice.”

Naphtali smiled at her, just a little moment more, before he looked back out at the lights. It didn’t take long for excitement to spark in him again, and he soon started eagerly pointing out the splendidest lanterns, guessing who made which one, and bouncing on his heels. And Melisande smiled too. She liked the lights. But she decided she liked them standing right here much better than she would like them flying.

She didn’t notice that he hadn’t let go of her hand. But then, neither did he.

~~*~~

[Chapter 1/Writing the Story]

[Chapter 5/The Impossible Blossom] ... [Chapter 6/you are here!] ... [Chapter 7/Frey]

Also found on AO3, if you'd like to hop on over!

[yourheartonfire]

The hero woke to the smell of smoke. Swearing, they scrambled out of bed and down the hall to their guest bedroom.

The blankets were smoldering as the villain thrashed in their sleep. The room glowed an angry scarlet from power suppression cuffs struggling to bear the full load of the villain's unconscious mind. And worst of all were the noises, that high pitched wail over and over again: "Don't leave me no don't don't please no don't don't leave-"

"Wake up!" the hero yelled and flung the safety bucket of cold water across the villain's face.

The villain jolted up with a gasp and a sputter. The power surge collapsed. The cuffs cycled down to dull metal again and the two were left panting in the pale blue moonlight.

"Oh," said the villain, surveying the soggy ash that had been their bedding. "Happened again, did it?"

The hero slumped against the wall, wiped their face. The adrenaline pulse was long gone and they were left with nothing but the bone deep exhaustion of being woken yet again out of their REM sleep. From the drawn look on the villain’s face, they weren’t feeling much better. And they were starting to shake.

"Okay. Okay.” Break it down into steps, do the steps one at a time. The hero pushed themselves up. “You strip the bed, I'll find some new blankets - oh shit!" they couldn’t help blurting out as they caught a glimpse of the villain’s wrists under the cuffs. The villain turned a mottled red, flinching from the hero’s gaze. The hero was too tired to figure out how they were supposed to respond to that. “Okay. First aid, then bedding, then - “ 

Their phone went off like an air raid alarm, shrill and insistent. The hero closed their eyes. “Shit.”

“You swear a lot when you’re tired,” the villain observed with a forced smirk, their jaw clenched to keep their teeth from chattering.

“Stand by,” the hero snapped. “I mean, just... wait here.”

With an angry twist of their hand, the hero yanked the water from the mattress, flinging the ball of now filthy liquid back into the bucket. They slammed the door behind them and stomped down the hall, fumbling the phone from their pajama pants pocket.

“Power surge at your location. Status?” snipped out the voice on the other end without greeting.

“I’m fine. All fine. Everything’s fine.” The hero tucked the phone under their shoulder as they yanked open the bathroom cabinets, trying to remember how to treat a burn. “Another, ah, involuntary nighttime trigger.”

There was a sigh, the sound of keyboard tapping. “That’s the third one this week. And this one nearly overloaded the cuffs.”

“What do you want me to do, not let them sleep?” The hero dug out their medical supplies from under the sink, grabbed a bottle of painkillers too. "[Villain] had a dream, the cuffs did their job, end of story. We are not sending them to SuperMax!” they added as they heard the intake of breath. “We need their cooperation. I have the situation under control!"

The Agency operator sniffed. “That’s not what these power readings say.”

“Good night.” The hero jabbed the red ‘hang up’ button viciously. Not for the first time, they wished there was some digital equivalent of an old-fashioned phone being slammed down into the cradle. They took a breath, grabbed their supplies, and left their phone in the medicine cabinet.

In the guest bedroom the villain was humming tunelessly as they stared up at the ceiling, pretending they hadn’t heard every word. They'd managed to kick the ruined blankets to the floor and get their normal leering mask solidly in place as the hero tossed the last unburnt comforter across them, sat at the edge of the mattress to smear aloe vera across the blistered skin under the cuffs.

“I have to admit, this is definitely not how I was hoping to get you in bed with me,” the villain drawled in a mostly steady voice. They plucked at the sleeve of the hero’s buttoned up shirt. “And that definitely isn’t the nightwear I was hoping for. Only you could make pajamas stuffy.”

“My pajamas are not stuffy,” the hero said evenly, catching the villain’s hands. “They are one hundred percent cotton and extremely breathable.”

The villain for once didn’t have a witty comeback. Their gaze dropped to their hands entwined with the hero’s, all different shades of blue in the moonlight. The hero paused as well, let the villain take their time.

“Are you going to ask me?” they asked with a bitter smile. “About the nightmares?”

The hero took a breath. “Do you want me to?”

“No,” the villain said without hesitation.

“Okay.” The hero pulled loose, tied off the last bit of bandage so they’d lie smoothly under the cuffs. “Budge over then.”

The villain blinked. “What?”

The hero smoothed out the quilt. “We’re out of options. Can’t leave you alone, can’t let you set my house on fire. So. Looks like you get me in bed after all.” And before they could think better of it, the hero swung themselves under the blanket.

The villain was rigid with surprise beside them. And warm, so so warm. God, why had they cheaped out and gone with a full for the guest bedroom instead of a queen? Or a king. Or maybe bunk beds. 

“Is this torture?” the villain said in that flat, toneless voice. “Your toes are freezing.”

"You need to cool down,” the hero grumbled. “You’re always burning up.” They rested a hand over the villain’s forehead. 

The hero didn’t mean anything by it, anything other than a simple temperature check. But they were too close to each other not to see the shudder that went through the villain. The way they melted into the touch.

Oh.

“It’s over for you,” the villain whispered hoarsely, eyes shut. “When I burn through these cuffs.”

“Mmm.” the hero said. They dared to tug the villain closer - just an invitation, not a demand. The villain immediately cozied up to the hero side. Nuzzling into the hero's neck. “Do your worst,” they whispered back, wrapping their arm around the villain and rubbing circles into the hot skin. “I’m not going anywhere.”

There were no more nightmares. There were a whole other set of problems. But that was a problem for the day time.