#something something trying to wrangle creativity is like trying to wrangle a fish

[ackee]

>i get a lot of oc ideas

>its not for the oc story i need to be focusing on

-_-🖕🏾

[buckybarnesbingo]

3 Prompt Summaries

fantasy creature,  ice cream,  jail - suggested by @liquidlightz

@rebelmeg - so, this is what bucky gets for taking his pet dragon out for ice cream.  jail.  it's really inconsiderate, actually, he didn't even get to finish his ice cream cone.

@wolfnprey - No one said anything about mermaids having a sweet tooth. No one said they get possessive either. After watching Bucky's exploration of the human world end with him cramming a gallon of cotton candy ice cream down his throat, the last thing Steve expected was to wind up paying a bond to get said merman out of jail all because Bucky did not take kindly to the ice cream server offering Steve free samples.

@caiti-creative-corner - Bucky just wanted to pick up some ice cream for his partner.  Now, thanks to a mistaken identity, he's got to get out of jail before sunrise. Or the cops were in for one very big surprise.

@polizwrites - When he ordered a unicorn sundae from the brand new (and extremely sparkly) ice cream parlor down the street, the last thing Bucky actually expected was to have an actual-factual unicorn show up as well.  To be fair, it seemed as surprised as he was, and more than a bit of chaos ensued.  It nearly stabbed the Animal Control officer before Bucky was able to calm it (no, him - DEFINITELY a him) down and now he sat with the magnificent creature  in the largest enclosure at the shelter, wondering what in the hell to do next.

@somesortofitalianroast - Bucky wasn’t really sure why there was a unicorn in the ice cream parlor on the boardwalk. He was even less sure how he ended up arrested for the trafficking in supernatural creatures. All he wanted was a banana split and to sit on a bench and watch the ocean.

@lbibliophile-mcu - Bucky glares at the - unfortunately familiar - wall of the holding cell. It's not his fault that the anti-collision auto-correct on his teleportation periodically deposits him on the wrong side of a security door. But the guards who found him this time are new, so it always takes a little while for the higher-ups to convince them that 'no, he wasn't breaking and entering', 'yes, it was an accident' and 'yes, magic is a thing that happens - specifically to one James "Bucky" Barnes'. Of course, he could just teleport out of this cell. But they know who he is and have started the paperwork, and it is really a whole less hassle all round if he just sits tight for another hour or so and waits for this whole mess to get sorted out. However bored he is. Except... he can't leave, but that doesn't mean he can't bring something in... A few seconds  later, the cameras show him lounging back on the bench, taking a large bite out of a triple-serve ice cream.

@liquidlightz - merge this fumbling magician Bucky with Poliz' one and you get a unicorn appearing in the holding cell :unicorn:  so much more paperwork !

@huntress79 - If Bucky had to choose one thing that the serum, no matter what version, made better, he probably would have named the ability to eat almost obscene amounts of ice cream without any side effects. In the first few months after showing up at the tower, he and Natasha spent many a night tasting almost every ice cream flavor available in the greater New York area. But then, a certain God of Mischief chose Bucky as his latest "victim", taking him from the line at the ice cream parlor two blocks down from the Tower directly on a trip to a realm filled with dragons, and faes, and whatnot else (sure, Bucky had read the Tolkien books, but come on, Smaug had nothing on that magnificent, golden-red giant they encountered on their first day). And of course, Loki had to make it even worse, and go and try to steal some of the dragon's hoard. Everyone knows that it only ends bad! Well, it did, at least for Bucky - who ended up in a dark, smelly cell in the king's underground jail, while Loki was nowhere to be found. Was it too much to ask to get the largest bubble waffle filled with pistachio, vanilla and lemon sorbet without getting interrupted or kidnapped? Jeez...

More under the cut!

Chicken, Tall, Pearl - suggested by @ariasfandom

@rebelmeg - bucky loved going to his grandma's farmhouse as a kid.  it was full of adventures and things to see and animals to play with.  well.  all except for pearl.  pearl was mean.  and pearl, the biggest, tallest, crankiest chicken that bucky had ever seen, seemed to harbor a real and visceral hatred for bucky himself.

@wolfnprey - It was Sam's insistence that led Bucky to visit Clint on his family farm. It was Sam's dare that got Bucky pecked by a bunch of overprotective hens when he tried to help collect eggs. Again, Sam's fault that Bucky wound up stuck in a tall ass tree because the asshole scared Clint's dog and somehow the dog wound up in the tree.  So when Bucky wound up finding a lizard that Clint's daughter called Pearl cuddling up to his face in the morning, he knew it was Sam's fucking fault then, too.

@liquidlightz - Bucky loved to trade pearls with his new found friend.  He'd search the ocean floor and gather a few to bring to Steve, who in turn would bring him what he called chicken.  It tasted so different from fish and Bucky was hooked.  The taller the chicken the more pearls Bucky would give Steve.  In his world these had value, but Steve was planning to give them right back one day, he was just designing the perfect necklace to make out of them for Bucky.  In the meanwhile, he could do with eating veg and potatoes so he could give Bucky all his chicken.

@huntress79 - Like in so many other things, the animals of Wakanda were just as unique as the country itself. The rhinos were scary at first, but once you knew the trick, you could turn them into giant balls of fluff in no time. The goats, though just as stubborn as those Bucky remembered from childhood summers spend with relatives in Indiana, were the biggest source of entertainment in the village, hands down. But truth be told, the biggest surprise were the chicken. Sure enough, they could work up a cacophony of sounds in a heartbeat like any other chicken on this planet, but for some reason, Wakandan chicken were way taller, with legs as long as some supermodel, and the shells of their eggs almost resembled pearls, so sparkly.

@somesortofitalianroast​ - a chicken on a tall dresser with mother of pearl drawer knobs....

@ribbonsflyingoutthewindow​ - There's a whole comedic fic in there somewhere.

@bookdragon13​ Bucky trying to wrangle up a chicken on Clint’s farm and it ends up on the dresser somehow? Somehow I can also see Bucky buying a tall chicken statue made out of pearl kinda like the dog statue Joey bought in Friends

paintball, drive-in, cherry chapstick - suggested by @wolfnprey

@rebelmeg - bucky's first date with the love of his life was... perfect.  it was everything a first date should be.  they played paintball like kids, no-holds-barred and laughing like hyenas.  then the drive-in movie, a double feature while they ate popcorn and blushed while they held hands.  and the kiss at the end of the night... bucky could still taste the cherry chapstick on his lips, and he couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face.

@liquidlightz - Bucky loved and hated paintball in equal measure.  He loved getting to run wild and show off his skills, not just shooting, but agility and camouflage. The darn helmet these venues required you to wear played havoc with his hair though, and the cold wind and dust from crawling around made his lips dry and there was no way he was showing up to his date later this evening with chapped lips.  Steve was taking him to a modern drive-in, reminiscent of the old days, and that was just going to end  in hours of making out, at least.  He paused out of sight behind a tree and pulled out his plum-flavoured chapstick from one of his many pockets, which may have also been housing a comb, mini conditioning spray, and whatnots.  Re-applying every 20mins should hopefully do the trick.  Putting it away again, he checked the charges left in his rifle.

@huntress79 - Tony Stark was, despite his repeated protests, a lot like his father Howard, at least to Bucky. It was most obvious with the things he invented, but apparently, the same brain was also good with coming up with new, crazy ideas for team bonding events. Like taking a whole lot of individuals trained on various weapons to a paintball area. After some discussion, Bucky, Wanda, Clint and Scott ended up on Steve's team, while Nat, Rhodey, Peter and Maria Hill made up Tony's team. And holy moly, everyone, except for Peter, treated it like an actual mission. Within moments after splitting up, Steve was dispersing tactics, Clint was checking the wind, and Scott was trying to get the ants in the floor to cooperate. Wanda was watching the whole shindig with a fond smile, while reapplying her cherry-flavored chapstick. And Bucky? His mind was already on his evening plans - a nice date with Sam, consisting of dinner at a small seafood restaurant near Battery Park, a movie at the summer drive-in and tied off with (hopefully) some adult action in either of their apartments at the Tower. He only hoped he would survive these crazy "war games" first.

@somesortofitalianroast - Bucky wasn’t really sure why they were playing paintball. Well, “play” paintball. With him, Clint, Nat, and Tony all with exceptional marksmanship skills, it made no sense. It made even less sense for them to have the paintball “game” at an abandoned drive-in movie theatre, which just so happened to be located on a lot that included several acres of woods and lake with a dock. Until Steve mentioned that he had a tube of cherry chapstick and Bucky could taste it. But only if he won.

[kbstories]

Signification

sig·ni·fi·ca·tion (n.)

The process of assigning meaning to something.

Captain and First Mate, two years later.

(Or: Zoro adores his captain. A lot.)

Tags: Reunions, Nakamaship, Introspection, Fluff, Domesticity (!)

Post-Timeskip setting, between Sabaody and Fishman Island. Read Chapter 2 here.

***

Surrounded by tumultuous battle and the distant booming of cannons, the Thousand Sunny begins to sink. The waves churn and slosh against her hull with increasing might; glinting foam breaks across the sky in half-formed arcs and yet not a single drop touches the grass below.

The crew watches, wonder shining in their eyes. Roronoa Zoro counts, sharp gaze touching upon every familiar face, every smile that glows with shared relief, then starts over.

Nine. Nine, again.

Finally complete, the Strawhats are swallowed by the sea.

In a heartbeat, the breathless moment dissolves into the usual chaos as Nami commands their gradual descent: Usopp and Chopper screech in unison about this sea king and that monster over Franky’s good-natured reassurances at the helm and the melodic humming coming from Brook; blooming and wilting like flowers, Robin’s elegant hands crop up all over the deck where Sanji and Zoro are wrangling the sails against the ocean’s massive current–

The Sunny moves like a living thing underneath them and through it all, Luffy laughs and laughs like he couldn’t get himself to stop even if he tried.

Having his friends back is a delight in and of itself but it’s that sound that does it. Zoro can feel the rough edges of the past months knit themselves together into something nostalgic, something fond, a type of gooey-warm devotion that became second nature somewhere along the line.

Like muscle memory, dormant for a while and never forgotten. It’s good to be home.

And yeah, he’s the first to admit soft things don’t come easy to him. There is a private smile on his lips, though, one he doesn’t care to hide. There’s no reason to, not here. Above them, a school of fish swims by, silhouetted by the sun like silver-coated birds and–

“Woah, it’s huge! Is that a shark?”

–the smile turns into a grin. Zoro’s eye meets those of his captain and, before Monkey D. Luffy can utter the idea brewing in that rubber brain of his, Shusui glides out of its sheath smoothly. Luffy cackles and together they stand, with their crew behind and the vast ocean ahead.

“You ready, Zoro?”

Those three little words settle in the spaces between skin and muscle and bone and – after two long years of worrying, wishing, waiting – Zoro nods and gladly takes his place beside the man who will be Pirate King.

*

The reunion party takes days to run its course until, on the third night, even the most energetic among the Strawhats are turning to their spot on Sunny’s deck for a cozy evening. A bonfire burns brightly in their midst and, under Sanji’s watchful eye, all kinds of sausages and vegetables sizzle away on a makeshift grill. Curiously, the smoke it produces leaves the resin coating of the ship in small, harmless bubbles – arms crossed and leaning back against the railing, Zoro follows their path until they disappear into depths unknown like sticky shooting stars.

A bit of imagination and even this cobalt sky can yield a few constellations, though it would take a creative mind like Usopp’s to name them all. Their presence is soothing, regardless.

No need to look so glum, Mihawk had said, that first night an eternity ago, after awkwardly hovering in Zoro’s periphery for far too long.

It had been a clumsy attempt at comfort at best. There was blood on the cuffs of his shirt and the soot of cannon fire still clung to his coat; made vague by the darkness, it was nonetheless the kind of tangible proof that all those headlines in the paper lacked. Somewhere out there, the ruins of Marineford smoldered. Somewhere out there, his captain was hurting.

Zoro had just huffed and stared out into the void. There was nothing to say, nothing at all.

There had been a quiet sigh, and steps echoing in the silence. Arms crossed, Mihawk had stared until Zoro couldn’t but stare back, quietly surprised by the intensity of emotion burning where nobody dared to look for it.

Don’t grieve what you haven’t lost, kid. You’re all under the same sky, after all.

Still, Zoro muses, eye slipping shut and shoulders relaxing against the Sunny’s comfortable embrace. Around him, the ever-present chatter of the crew dulls to a low rush. This is better.

The transition between sleep and consciousness is so gradual that Zoro doesn’t bother to track down the moment he dozes off. Eventually, there is a subtle shift around him, like gravity itself bends and realigns towards a greater force – a silent force, and that is what makes Zoro glance up between sleepy blinks.

There Luffy stands, hand on his hat and his hat on his chest and a woven-straw brim barely covering the crater of a scar below it. The fire casts shadows on Luffy’s face (Is it doubt flickering there? Indecisiveness?) and yet they’re fleeting enough to make Zoro question what he sees, fractured as his vision has become.

Then Luffy notices he’s awake and it’s all gone with a smile. “Napping already?”, he chuckles as he hops on the railing next to him. Zoro shrugs and stretches with a satisfied grunt.

“We getting close?”

“Nope, not yet.” Luffy snickers as Zoro slumps right back to where he was, his back snug against warmed wood. Sandals flip-flop along with the carefree swinging of Luffy's feet. “It’s okay, though. More chances to listen to Usopp’s stories! He met the Hercules, can you imagine?”

“Hardly”, Zoro grumbles indistinctly enough to not disturb the starry-eyed marvel on Luffy’s face. “Did he tell the one about the man-eating plant turned island yet?”

“The what?!”

It’s impossible not to laugh at how wide Luffy’s eyes can get: Zoro snorts and gestures towards the shape of Usopp on the other side of deck, a silent have at him that Luffy almost follows.

Almost. Cheers and laughter carry over from Usopp’s loosely assembled audience, and Chopper’s astounded What, really?! proves the story being told is a good one. Even so, the motion to launch himself into an unsuspecting Usopp is stopped mid-way and Luffy bounces back to the railing.

Huh.

At Zoro’s questioning grunt, the man just shakes his head and lowers his hat to his lap. “Ah, y’know. We have time now, right?”, he says with a thread of serenity woven into his voice – one that wasn’t there, last time they spoke, and the realization that Luffy is pacing himself shouldn’t feel this monumental.

Zoro lets his gaze linger, this time: over the subtle lines around Luffy’s eyes and the hint of exhaustion underneath; over all the little scars dusting his knuckles, old and new, and the gentle back-and-forth of his thumb over the ribbon of his hat, a mindless gesture of comfort that aches, somehow.

Threadbare it has become, this most faithful of companions. The red is long washed out by the sun and the sea and hell knows what else. Gratitude registers as a warm glow at Zoro’s core, for it being there when none of them could. For weathering the storms and the tears and the laughter, from the instant it left Shanks’ head to this very moment.

“It’s looking good”, Zoro comments lightly as he sits up and rubs the last traces of sleep from his eye. “Feels like ages ago that Nami had to stitch the hat back together. After… Buggy, was it? The clown guy.”

The expression on Luffy’s face goes a bit funny at that, half-way to a grimace yet too fond to be one. “Hah, yeah, him. I’ll have to thank him next time we see him, him and Jinbei and the others.”

Zoro blinks. That… makes no sense at all. Then again, Mihawk did grumble about the clown becoming a warlord, so weirder things have happened. “Who’s Jinbei?”

Luffy smiles, then, bright and toothy. “A friend! Don’t worry, you’ll meet him soon. He’s all serious and talks about honor a lot, so.”

So you’ll like him, Zoro fills in for him and huffs to himself. That part of himself that is fiercely independent wants to argue the point – then again, Luffy’s instincts are rarely off the mark.

Another thing to look forward to, then. Hopefully this Jinbei guy likes to drink.

“Say, Zoro?”

In a bundle of rubbery limbs and rustling fabric, Luffy joins him on the grassy deck, legs crossed and hat back where it belongs. His head tilts curiously, the steady weight of his full attention one Zoro shoulders with ease. “Where did you go?”

Ah, that. It’s a question he’s heard a few times this week, along with How in the world were you first? and What the hell happened to your eye? and Zoro has no room to complain. He, too, keeps a list of names in his heart, and the question marks around their fates are a subtle discomfort but very much there.

It’s weird to think of adventure as something they can experience even when forced apart.

And so Zoro tells him, about the castle standing proud among ruins and the ship that wrecked before it even touched the sea and the day he bowed to become stronger. He doesn’t mention the tense days spent in-between, reading the newspaper near-obsessively for even a scrap of new information. That black-and-white image of his captain standing alone on a battlefield is fresh in his memory, and will remain there for eternity. “Took me a while to get what you were trying to say”, he admonishes without heat, and Luffy nods sagely.

“I know, right? So complicated… Without Rayleigh I would’ve mixed everything up.”

That confirms that theory, then. A whole library of those exists in Zoro’s mind, years’ worth of theories and questions gone unanswered and wild speculation and it doesn’t matter, not anymore. Not with Luffy sitting next to him, looking more at peace than Zoro expected, deep down.

“You did well, Luffy.”

The words are out before he really thinks them through. It feels right, though, to see surprise dawn on Luffy’s face; the pride Zoro places in his voice soon takes root in the square set of Luffy’s shoulders, too, and the strong line of his back.

Then, he grins, eyes alight and squinting with it. Like this, the signs of weariness melt off entirely and there Luffy is, a little older, a little more mature and scarred to hell but still the happy-go-lucky idiot Zoro chose to follow two years ago.

“We really made it, huh, Zoro? It felt like forever and I was wondering if I’m just dreaming or something but… We’re finally here.”

Zoro sighs and reaches over and pulls the hat down, the brim briefly covering the amused chuckle on Luffy’s lips before it’s righted again. “’course it’s real, captain. You think we’d all bust our asses to be on time for some dream? Seriously.”

Luffy is still laughing, “I mean, you were early! Everyone was so surprised!”, poking him in the cheek and wiggling his feet in delight. Zoro lets him have it for a second longer than he normally would have before he rolls his eye and gets up.

“C’mon, rubber-for-brains, there’s some sake I brought that’s calling my name. Oi, Usopp! What was that thing with the plant island again?”

And with the sound of stretching rubber and a not-so-distant crash, Luffy is gone and Usopp yells.

>>Read Chapter 2

[writing-the-end]

WS Chapter 38: Red Raid

Previous Chapter

Masterpost

I love this chapter, and you’re all gonna hate me after this. I promise, things are better than they seem- i mean, we still have more than twenty chapters to go!

Red Belongs to @theguardiansofredland

Ecto belongs to @cooler-cactus-block 

Warning: This chapter contains violence, battle scene, mentions of blood, and character death 

Avon cuts Xisuma free of the vines, letting his elytra open up so he can keep some dignity with landing. Keralis and the other hermits quickly explain why they’re at his base, as well as who the strangers are. 

“I knew that portal was tampering with world magic. At the time I was just happy to think that Doc might become another wizard with me. I could always use a helping hand breaking the natural laws.” Xisuma picks some dirt from his helmet, the yellow mask mimicking that of a bee. Antennae flick dirt away, moving independently of the wind billowing from the savanna. “I just can’t believe it still works. That must be one strong portal.” 

“You know Doc. When he does something, he does something right. GOAT, and all that.” Scar waves his hands flippantly. 

“But I assume you three aren’t really interested in the mechanics of world hoppin’, are ya?” X sighs, looking at the wanderers. The group follows him down the white walkway, entering into a hexagonal building. Red gasps, eyes widening to see that it’s filled with bees, bumbling around busily with butts full of pollen. X offers his visitors some tea- of course with lots of honey. 

“We wanted to ask if you knew anything about someone who attacked us.” Avon states, sipping on the warm drink. It’s a comforting taste, practically healing her from inside out. 

“They came through a nether portal. His hair was like fire, flickering and moving like flames. Anywhere he walked, things would smolder or catch fire. And we always smelled brimstone when things happened.” Ecto recounts, pouring her tea out. She’s focused on the mission right now. 

“That definitely sounds like something from the nether, though...I’ll say I’m thoroughly stumped. I’ve been to a lot of worlds, and never heard of these...these hellspawns you’re talking about.” Xisuma shrugs. “A lot of worlds have something unique, or something that is only shared between a few other worlds. Take these bees for example. In the last world we called home, we didn’t have the little buggers.” 

“Do you think this is something only our world has?” Red questions. “Because he...he looked a bit like me. Short, with similar face structure. But completely different.” 

Xisuma hums. “Y’know, the nether is an unusual place. It’s smaller than our world, a parallel dimension to the Overworld. Distance works different there, as does time. It’s a hellscape, but a mimicry of this dimension. Perhaps in mimicking the Overworld, it also mimics the people that call it home.” 

“This is hurting my brain.” Grian whispers, and all three Wanderers nod in agreement. 

“Sheshwamey, didn't Tango do a lot of work in the nether? Didn’t he spend a lot of time there?" Keralis questions. 

“Ah, that’s right. His base a few worlds back was nether inspired. He knows a lot about the nether. ” Xisuma sets down his cup, eyes blinking rapidly as he begins to piece things together. He stands up, so abrupt that it knocks over his chair and spills his tea. “We have to go talk to Tango. Right now. To the Nether portal!” 

The hermits jump to their feet, Mumbo, Grian, and Stress a lot more careful with their tea than the others. Red and Ecto are also quick to stand, following Xisuma up the vines of a tree. But Avon hangs back, nervous. They’re really going to the nether? After just talking about a danger that could be lurking among it? She’s from the End, the exact opposite place. She hates quartz because it’s from the nether, it’s all unnatural for her. It’s only with Ecto and Red’s help are they able to drag Avon into the hell dimension. 

But luckily for Avon, they aren’t really in the nether. They’re atop of it. The hermits step out calmly, searching the radiating lines of carpet, dirt, and glass for Tango’s path. All across the roof of the nether, in the liminal space between dimensions. The eternal heat of hell below their feet still percolates through the bedrock, causing the group to sweat as they walk on the flat surface. But Avon would rather deal with the inferno than all the monsters that call hell home. 

“How’d you guys do this?” Ecto questions, impressed by the unusual form of transportation. She gazes down a small hole in the roof, the bedrock blown apart. Blast marks still mar the grey material. She was sure that bedrock was unbreakable. And yet these hermits manage to do it. Magic? Science? 

“Get high enough into the sky, and you end up standing on the roof of the nether.” Mumbo states.

“I think it was Impulse that was the first to pioneer this in the new world, but I could be wrong.” Iskall pulls on the collar of his hoodie, starting to sweat against the rising heat. 

“Here we go. If this ain’t Tango’s, then it’s definitely one of the other members of ZIT. Either way, we’ll be close enough.” Xisuma motions, holding his hand into the rift like he’s holding open the door. 

“Such a gentleman.” Stress chuckles, hopping into the open portal. She’s quick to escape the confines of the frame, because a minute later it’s packed full of the boys. Swearing and struggling to all get through at once, they are pushed out when the wanderers come crashing in. Stress was starting to wonder if the teleporting would mix bodies at that point. 

The arguing pauses only when a low bugle mutes their voices. “Does...does Tango have a raid farm?” 

“He wouldn’t have one so close to his iron farm, would he?” Iskall rubs his head, having knocked it against Grian’s thick skull. 

Rockets shoot into the sky, the silhouette of a flying person blasting towards space before leveling out. Red eyes, framed by a mess of fiery hair. “Hey! You guys come to join the party?” 

“Tango! We were coming here to ask questions...but it seems you’re busy!” Xisuma calls, already pulling out his sword and strapping on armor. 

“It’s nothing I can’t- gah!” Tango flutters as a crossbow bolt tears a hole through his elytra, grounding him among more than a dozen pillagers. High up, the hermits and wanderers watch as the raid party swarms towards Tango.

Grian is the first to leap from the platform. “I call the evokers!” 

Everyone else jumps after, even Ecto. Despite being wingless, she manages to survive the fall. And that leaves Red at the top, biting her nails as the battle rages beneath her. She shrugs off her backpack, leaving it at the entrance of the portal. Leaving Fred safe from harm. She’s always stayed far away from pillagers. Most creatures that live in the overworld want no quarrel, even creepers just want to be left alone most of the time.

But not pillagers. They thrive off of the pain of others. Evoker magic is a dark art, relying on the death of others to fuel their spells. Selene told Red that the scholar she learned magic from was raided by pillagers. Any spellbook that they deemed worthy was stolen back to their mansion. The rest was burned. 

Red’s instincts say to stay far away from the raid below, to let the warriors take care of the swarm of illagers. To stay out of their way, out of trouble. But Red grimaces as Ecto barely escapes the fangs, snapping from the ground and ripping at her scarf. He needs to get into the fight, to be helpful. To not be useless. He may not be able to fight, but maybe he can help with distracting the attackers, or bring potions between those that need it. Even Scar, the worst hermit combatant, is in the midst of aiding Tango with ravager wrangling. He should help. 

Avon throws her trident into the tough hide of a ravager, ducking under the iron hatchet swinging for her neck. She kicks the vindicator into Ecto’s awaiting blade. The two may bicker and train by fighting each other, but when it comes to being on the same side they are a masterful team. While Avon waits for her trident to return to her hand, Ecto glances across the battle. “Avon! Red’s falling!” 

At the mere mention of their friend, Avon takes to the sky. Red’s tucked into a small ball, protecting his head from the ground below. The two let out a  simultaneous groan as they collide, Avon’s fingers grabbing onto Red’s vest and landing them both on the ground. “What are you doing?”

“I came to help! Maybe I can kite the pillagers into traps? Or hand out potions and food?” Red winces as Avon raises her wings like a curtain, stopping vex from reaching Red. Iskall leaps from a tree, spearing three of the summoned spirits with a single arrow. 

“You don’t even have a weapon! What if they attack you?” Ecto hisses, retreating behind Avon’s wings. Avon turns, finally grabbing her trident only to throw it back into the mix. Hopefully, it will hit a few raiders on the way out as well as the way back. 

“I’m small! I’ll be fine.” Red squeeze between Ecto and Avon, charging into battle with an armful of food stolen from Mumbo’s farms. She slips between the legs of a ravager and the flanks of vindicators, tossing the heated spuds to the hermits in battle. She yelps as an axe comes terrifyingly close to hitting her, but manages to dodge away with less than a scratch. 

Ecto and Avon can only continue to battle, and keep watch of their friend. Try to stay as close as possible in case Red needs help. But he’s holding his own. His small stature is just under axe swinging height, and he’s creative enough to find passages through the battle no one else would think of. 

“Scar! Take some potions!” Red croons, holding up a bottle of regeneration swiped from Mumbo’s base. 

“Thanks, little fish!” Scar chuckles, removing the stopper and chugging the ambrosia. “Whoa, watch out!” Scar shoots an arrow, downing a vex from hurting Red. He’s not about to let them get a bad rep among any more of his friends. 

Red smiles, and scampers away. Towards Keralis, holding his own against not one but two ravagers. For such a sweet, shocked face, he’s quite the warrior when he wants to be. Red’s path becomes blocked, grey skin and severe vest of a vindicator between her and her friends. The malicious face only grins at the sight of an easy kill. He laughs, and raises his axe to kill the kipling. 

“Red! No!” Ecto screams, running down a pillager and stumbling through the crowd of fighters. One moment, she sees the glimmer of the sunlight against the iron blade. Her vision is blocked by a ravager, chasing after Tango as he kites it towards a mine trap. And when she looks again, the axe has fallen. 

The hatchet lays useless in the grass, metal dirty but not bloody. The vindicator’s arm is still raised, but he’s frozen. Quite literally. Across the field, water has solidified into ice, capturing a number of illagers within it’s cold grasp. And completely encasing the one about to kill Red. Relief floods across Ecto, and Avon above banks to congratulate Red. For standing up for himself.

Red rises to his feet, brushing off the dirt on his trousers. “I told you I could handle on my-”

The world stops with Red’s voice. The sounds of battle die back for all the wanderers, the only ones who see the sudden charge. Across the plain, Ecto and Avon can hear the ragged breath escape Red’s lips. From over Red’s shoulder, a pillager lowers his crossbow, the cables still humming with release. 

Red’s face doesn’t quite register what she feels. Eyes gaze across the battlefield, to her friends. Hurt, but standing. She sinks to her knees, gasping for a breath but still strung with shock. A blank face, even as a shaking hand reaches up to grasp the tip of the bolt. Red finally looks down, seeing the metal tip protruding from her chest. A perfect hit, blood blossoming like a poppy across her vest. He can taste metal in his mouth again, lips turning a new shade with each breath out. The color of Red’s name. 

Avon and Ecto scramble to reach Red, anything to cross the distance between them and their friend. But no matter what they do, no matter how fast they reach him. It’s already too late. Red is gone by the time Avon crashes into the ground. Gone from life. 

And gone from the battle. All that’s left is the bolt, bloody and broken.

[trvelyans-archive]

for @goblin-deity, pollux and ortega being cute via text because writing fics that include text conversation is my fave thing ever <3 i hope you enjoy this lovely owen !!!

---

It’s rainy season in Los Diablos, and today is no exception. Occasionally a gust of wind sends the tools on your shelves rattling, and though the sound of you working on your armor drowns out the worst of the noise, it’s hard to ignore the constant flickering of the albeit dim overhead lights and the creaking of your base around you, threatening to collapse underneath the pressure of the wind and rain at any second.

You sit back on your heels with a sigh, wiping a bead of sweat from your forehead, and examine your handiwork. It’s been a learning experience to figure out how to repair your own armor – there’s a million different components to consider – but you’re definitely starting to get a better hang of it, and it looks almost just as good as it would if Mortum had done it. You lean down to pick up your wrench again when you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket and you stick a hand inside to fish it out. Of course it’s Ortega, and of course he sent you five messages in a row without realizing how irritating that is. You frown and stand up, opening your phone as you pad towards your workbench, hoisting yourself on top of it as you read.

Ortega: Hey, Pollux, what are you doing tonight?

Lux?

If you’re alive, blink twice.

Sorry, that was supposed to be a joke but you probably won’t find it funny.

Anyway, text me when you get these. I’m trying to be rational but I’m also 50% convinced your lying in a ditch somewhere so… yeah. Give me a call, will you?

You bite your lip, quickly typing out a response you hope will annoy him and hitting send.

You: *you’re

You’re about to put your phone down and get back to work when Ortega replies.

Ortega: Hey :)

You: You’re just going to ignore me correcting your spelling like that?

Ortega: I don’t really care. How are you? Are you okay?

Before you can reply, another couple messages come in. You roll your eyes as you read them, biting back the smile spreading across your face.

Ortega: Love you.

Hope you’ve been doing well.

You: You’re turning into such a romantic.

Ortega from eight years ago wouldn’t believe this with his own eyes.

Ortega: He was a self-absorbed jackass.

You: You’re saying that like you aren’t still a self-absorbed jackass.

Ortega: I like to think I’m less of both, but fair enough, I guess. How are you, really?

You: Busy.

Ortega: Mmmm. I love it when you talk dirty.

You: I’m going to throw my phone into the ocean.

Ortega: No, I was just kidding!

You: What if I did it anyway?

Ortega: :(  

You laugh, running a hand through your hair and pulling it out of its ponytail as you tap out another response.

You: I won’t for now. Did you have a reason for annoying me today or were you just bored?

Ortega: Are you ever going to stop being so caustic?

You: Ooo, fancy word. Did you have to look up synonyms for ‘asshole’ to find it, or…

Ortega: That’s not what I meant, and that’s also not what I thought it meant. My aunt said it to my mom a couple weeks ago and I’ve been trying to work it into conversation.

You: You’re hopeless.

Ortega: Hopelessly in love with you, maybe.

Groaning, you consider smashing your phone with a hammer, or perhaps dousing it in acid, but instead decide to give in and play whatever game he’s secretly challenging you to. You’ll get the best of him. You always do.

Most of the time, anyway.

Besides, if you don’t have a phone to text him with, he’ll probably end up tracking you down and kidnap you to his apartment to play board games and eat cheese bread and watch movies. At least talking on the phone staves off his undying desire for quality time a little.

Not that you’re entirely opposed to it, but… you have better things you could be doing. Like right now, for instance. Your villain armor is hanging open in your workshop, begging you to crawl inside and fine-tune the HUD, and instead you’re wiping your fingers on a dirty rag so you don’t get oil on your phone screen when you message Ortega back.

You: Shut up.

Or I’ll throw my phone out.

Ortega: You keep saying that, and yet here you are, still texting me…

You: Do you want me to do it, then?

Ortega: No, of course not.

Sometimes it feels like we talk in circles. We had this conversation already. Let’s move on to another one! :)

What are you doing tonight?

You: Being busy.

Ortega: Creative excuse, I like it.

:)

Seriously, though. You have any plans?

You: Depends who’s asking.

Ortega: ???

You: I know it’s you texting me, idiot. It’s just a thing that people say.

Ortega: Oh, I thought…

Sorry. Never mind. It doesn’t matter. Are you going to answer my question?

You: I’m doing nothing tonight.

Ortega: Do you mean actually nothing or nothing you’re going to tell me about?

You: Neither. Both. Get to the point.

Ortega: You should come over.

You keep telling me you’re busy lately, and I get that – well, I don’t, not really, but I pretend to so I don’t piss you off – but I miss you.

I’ll pay for the cab.

You: Have you looked outside, Ortega?

Ortega: I have a change of clothes here at my house with your name on it.

You: I bet you bought the wrong size.

Ortega: I didn’t.

I asked Argent what size she thought you were and got it. They’re PJs, and they’re comfy, I promise. I’m pretty sure they’re silk, but don’t quote me on that.

They have little lightning bolts on them.

I thought you’d look cute wearing them.

;)

You: Don’t tell me you got me fluffy socks too…

Ortega: I was tempted, but you’d probably end up tripping on them.

You: Asshole.

Ortega: I just mean because your feet are so small!

You: Still, asshole.

Ortega: Come on, Pollux. I bet hanging out at my place would be better than doing nothing wherever you are…

(Where are you???)

You: Did you get yourself a pair of matching PJs?

You wait for half a minute before Ortega starts typing again. It’s a picture this time, though, not a text, and even though it’s about as blurry as a picture could be, you can faintly make out the tight lightning-bolt printed shirt he’s wrangled over his shoulders.

What an idiot. What a dork. Your heart feels like it’s going to burst open in your chest and you clear your throat to compose yourself even though he isn’t even around to notice.

Asshole.

You: You just put mine on, didn’t you?

Ortega: Maybe. I’ll wear the top, you wear the bottoms. Sound like a plan?

You: You’re not going to convince me that easy.

Ortega: Okay, fine. You wear the top, I’ll wear the bottoms. Or I’ll wear none. Or we can both wear none. Is that better?

You: Go to Hoots or something if you’re this horny.

Ortega: Jeez, way to just come out and say it like that!

You: You’re not denying it.

Ortega: I didn’t care to. That’s not why I texted you, though.

That’s just an added bonus.

You: There was a perfect opportunity for a joke in there.

Ortega: I know, and I almost said it, but I thought maybe you’d kill me through the screen.

You: I’m tempted anyway, so that couldn’t have made it much worse.

Ortega: Is there anything I can say to convince you to come over?

You lean back against the wall and tap your tongue against the roof of your mouth, thinking it over. You’ve done a lot of work today, all things considered, and you could use a break.

You: I don’t know. What do you think?

Ortega: Maybe I could send you a picture?

You let out a huff of breath and squirm slightly where you sit, flattening your hand against your thigh as you consider your reply.

You: Don’t tell me you’re just going to find a picture on the internet and send it to me…

Ortega: I’m perfectly proud of what I’m packing, thank you very much.

Besides, you’d know if it wasn’t mine. Don’t think I forgot the good look you took at it last time you saw it…

;)

You: Those are some big words, Ricardo…

Ortega: I can let you in on a couple other big things.

You: Ugh. Smug asshole.

You grit your teeth.

Imagine if Tia Elena heard you talking like this.

Ortega: Please don’t bring up Mama when I’m trying to sext you.

You: I thought you were trying to get me to come over.

Ortega: I was, but I didn’t think you were going to change your mind.

Are you?

You: Maybe if you convince me.

Ortega: Do you want my face in the picture?

You let out a laugh and hop down from the workbench, carefully tip-toeing around the scattered tools on the ground as you head for the rickety couch in the corner of the room with your eyes trained on your phone.

You: Like you could bend like that, old man.

Ortega: I could for you.

You: I don’t want your broken back or your hospital bills on my conscience. You gonna send the picture or not?

Ortega: Mmm. Impatient, are we?

You: If you’re not going to send it I can just get back to work…

Ortega: No, no, I’ll send it, hang on.

You wait impatiently with his chat screen open as you settle in on the couch, ignoring the temptation to start rubbing your thighs together. You’re not pathetic enough to start getting yourself off before Ortega even sends a picture, and you’re not even sure if it’s going to be good enough to get you horny, too, so you don’t want to warm yourself up for nothing.

It’s weird how normal it’s become to have this sort of relationship with Ortega. When you were Sidestep, you dreamt about it too much and too strongly to be anything but embarrassed by it, and now that it’s real you can barely believe it sometimes. Sure, things have changed – you’ve changed, too, more than anything – but you can’t deny that it makes you feel a little bit like your younger self. What you could’ve been, maybe.

What you can’t be anymore. But you’re going to push those thoughts out of your head right now.

You zoned out staring at the wall, and when your phone buzzes in your hand you practically jump half a foot in the air. You’re still not used to someone having such easy access to talking to you, and you’re certainly not used to having your phone on vibrate (you had it on mute for a long time before Ortega called you drunk and on the verge of tears one night thinking you had died because you didn’t answer). You take a breath before looking down at the screen and yup, there it is, Ortega’s cock in high definition.  

Ortega: You like?

;)

You definitely do, but you didn’t have enough time to appreciate it.

You: The picture is good but your follow-up messages basically just turned me completely off.

Ortega: :(

You’re kidding, right? It took me so long to take that picture.

You: Don’t want it all to be for nothing?

Ortega: I do text my mom with this phone, you know.

Jesus, why am I talking about my mom when I’m trying to jack off?

You’re killing me, Pollux.

Don’t you know it.

You take a longer look at the picture before replying. At the bottom of the screen, you can just make out Ortega’s hand wrapped around himself, and you know for a fact it’s just because he wants to show off how big his cock is in comparison to his fingers. You stifle a smile and bite your lip, giving in and sliding a hand in between your legs. You don’t move it, and you don’t take your pants off or anything, either. You just leave it there, waiting, wondering.

You: Send a video?

Ortega: Christ. Okay.

Gimme a minute.

You: Mmm.

Ortega: Don’t send me that ‘mmm’. I’m trying to save myself for when you come over.

You: Oh, you think I’m coming over now, do you?

Ortega: Definitely. Wait until you hear the noises I’m making in this video if you’re not already convinced.

You: Are you done?

Ortega: Yeah, I’m just watching it again to make sure it’s good.

You: Jesus.

Ortega: I want to make sure it gets you going!

You: Using the exclamation point made it 100% less likely for you to ‘get me going’.

Ortega: You’re mean.

Here I am baring my soul for you and you don’t even care.

You: I care about this video you haven’t sent yet.

Ortega: It’s sending! It’s very long.

You: …

Ortega: I meant the video.

You: Sure you did.

Your phone buzzes as the video finally comes in and you look at the door to your workshop to make sure it’s closed and locked. You don’t know who would come in, but whoever they could be you want to make sure they can’t. You turn your volume all the way up and sink lower against the arm of the couch, turning up your phone brightness until the reflected light of Ortega’s virtual cock slants against the wall behind you.

It’s an obscene video, of course. If he sent this to his mother she’d probably exorcise him, but you enjoy it, in any case. It feels a little stupid, though, to hear him whispering your name into his phone’s speaker, to hear the crackling of the recording as you hold your phone closer to your face to get a better look at it. It’s a good video – you’re not denying that – but it certainly isn’t as efficient as it would be for you to just… go over, maybe, and see it all in person.

Ortega: Did it send?

You: Yeah.

Ortega: Well?

You: You said you’ll pay for the cab?

Ortega: Pollux, I’d pay for a private jet if that’s what it took for you to come over right now.

You glance at the clock on the wall. If you call a cab now, you can be at Ortega’s in 45 minutes.

You: I’ll be there in an hour.

Ortega: :(

Well I’ll be waiting. Should I put my clothes back on?

You: You took ALL your clothes off?

Ortega: …

I was excited.

You: Hmm.

Ortega: Pollux…

No. Leave them off.

Ortega: Your wish is my command.

But hurry, please.

You lock the door to your workshop behind you as you rush to change into something a little cleaner before the cab gets here. A black hoodie with a blue long-sleeve t-shirt underneath, some loose sweatpants that you don’t bother tying up all the way. You’ll be lucky if you even have time to stumble to his bedroom and take your clothes off when you finally get there, to be honest. You’re probably barely going to be able to make it through the front door.

You hurry to climb inside the cab when it arrives, and you swear nothing in the world has ever felt longer than the ride to Ortega’s.

[fmdtaeyongarchive]

↬ the meaning you hold in your eyes, i could write a few poems on them.

date: october 2019 & february 2020.

location: ash’s apartment studio.

word count: 2,197 words, excluding lyrics.

summary: n/a.

triggers: mentions of alcohol as is way too common in ash’s verifications.

notes: creative claims verification. if any of this sounds familiar, no it doesn’t. (some parts of this are reworked from a different verification i did last year for a song that never happened because it fit this one too and i refuse to waste the time i put into that.)

october 2019.

he’d done this whole thing before several times while working on the album that will be coming out any day now and it would be easier this time. or rather, that was what ash told himself he’d be saying when it was all over. it hadn’t been just once, in truth. there were multiple songs written now that had been put into consideration for the first half of the track list of the album ⁠— the sensual and passionate half⁠ — but this wasn’t for that half of the album, or that album at all. the tracklist had been finalized long ago, but, in many ways, he was still hung up on the dissatisfaction that had crept in. so many songs for the album had been discarded and while it never quite felt good to have something he’d worked so hard on dubbed unsatisfactory, he’s still holding on to the lingering remnants of the phase where rejection made him more driven to create something that wouldn’t be turned down. a few more ‘no’s and he might reach his breaking point and want to give up entirely on catering to everything the company wanted, but for now, he was slowly settling in to the new challenge of writing outside of his standard comfort zone.

he’d written sensual songs before, but they were always manageable in their softness. that was the easiest lens for ash to view his own intimate experiences through, but bc had continued to demand something more aggressive, more bold, and ash hadn’t nailed down exactly how he was supposed to wrangle that yet and still remain true to himself.

he’d been surprised his album had ended up being confirmed for release at all with all the difficulties he’d had writing it and he still wasn’t sure what the turning point was where bc decided this was a sure thing. it may have been ash showing his ability to write what they wanted or it may have been a look into the expected profits for the rest of the year. understanding how bc’s employees’ collective minds worked wasn’t an easy feat, and ash had bigger fish to fry. namely, a fish in the form of making a song he didn’t have to worry about getting on the album that would calm the nagging in the back of his head that the company had found his weakness. successfully making one or two songs to please bc’s sexier image desires for fatalism hadn’t made ash an expert on the form yet, but he had learned ways to make it easier on himself than the stress he’d inflicted on himself and the worry he’d experienced when bc’s demands were still new to him. one of those ways was to start with a beat. that wasn’t a frequent necessity when he was shaping out a piano ballad or a folk guitar track, but if it was going to be danced to, it needed a good beat. any good dancer could tell him that the beat was a critical part of a song and, at one point in time, ash would have considered himself a good dancer himself. these days he was more like the leftovers of what was formerly a passionate dancer. he could never rid himself of the years as of technique training and the plentiful experience on stage and in a dance studio, but when he was merely going through the motions ninety percent of the time, it felt like he’d faltered since debut in some way. the worry about the bc-approved choreography for his second title track already had him on edge with concerns he’d be called out for laziness again, his mistakes becoming more glaring when he was the center of attention instead of being able to hide among a group.

that could be worried about later. it wasn’t the concern at hand at the moment.

right now, the song was what was most important and the beat was coming together nicely. it wasn’t all that unique in execution, but he intended the sexiness to lay in the instrumental more than the lyrics themselves. he layered some more interesting percussion into what he envisioned as the chorus as he built more musical lines on top of the foundation to construct a more full song than the basic outline of something sexy.

he started with the main attraction, the chorus, and built out musically into the verses, the bridge, and, at first, the song also included what he had at the time decided would probably be a dance break when the song became a full-fledged performance. 

as he worked, he built the song to be reminiscent of the songs he’d watched performance recordings of when he was younger. american r&b in the nineties and early two thousands had been secondary to the flashy dance performances of pop legends and trendy boy bands of the decade of his birth for much of his youth, if only because his young brain wasn’t ready for the more mature topics and sounds many of the best songs of the time had utilized. still, though, anything with a good voice, a good beat, and an eye-catching dance routine would have little ash’s eyes glued to the tv screen.

ash had never considered too much where his interest in performing had come from. according to his parents, he’d been dancing and singing since he could walk and talk despite neither of his parents being all that inclined toward the performance arts. if he thought about it now, he thought he might owe much of that to all of the awe-inspiring stage performances he’d been exposed to growing up. at such a young age, he couldn’t fully grasp the heartthrob appeal of the young adult men dancing on stage to a thumping back beat or the pretty girls who only needed a stage and a spotlight to shine. he hadn’t wanted to be admired or longed for. he’d wanted to perform and be able to captivate a crowd the same way the music icons he’d seen growing up had. 

that might be a better way to approach this.

ash took a break from writing to revisit a self-curated playlist of his favorite r&b songs spanning the best eras of the genre before he returned to fleshing out the song’s instrumental layers. it was becoming a good track by pure pop writing measure, but it was also becoming apparent something was missing when he set his sights solely on a replication of the nostalgia that other performers brought. being brought back to one’s younger days wasn’t exactly what was going to inspire the type of storytelling environment that had ash was aiming for. ash reminded himself that the song was supposed to have the musical themes suggesting intimacy that the lyrics suggested wasn’t entirely there yet on a conscious level. lust didn’t have to be presented as unromantic to be there, and it wasn’t always as black and white as sex. ash had met the beginnings of many a physical relationship, and the unintentional mind games and the questions were as much a part of the spark of something new as physical touch could

when viewed through the eyes of the adult he now was, those performances he’d watched as a kid had often been alluring in a seductive nature. often times, the words had danced around the literal, kept poetic for the romanticism of it. he’d written that exact kind of romance before, and the honey-tongued poetry he knew himself capable of didn’t have to disappear because he was working with a beat-driven r&b track instead of a rolling acoustic guitar instrumental.

making the instrumental had only taken ash a few weeks of work, but when it came time to put words to it, everything he wrote out only sounded shallow and forced. eventually, he was so stalled that he chose to switch into writing in english to see if a change of language would bring anything new out. he found words for most of the song that way, but they still felt disjointed and, if he were to be honest with himself, embarrassingly try-hard. the only thing that really stood out to him was the water themes he’d come up with, comparing the desire to get to know someone better to taking a deep dive underwater.

he reached out to a few close friends and work colleagues for advice, but nothing set him on the path to anything that could satisfy his perfectionist mind. he remembered being told once that if he was struggling with how to write a feeling, he should ask himself how he’d tell someone else to write it.

if you’re having trouble writing about desire, start with the basis of it all. a feeling. a desire. a question. nothing else. capture those feelings in the lyrics. desire at its best is simple. don’t overcomplicate it.

that gives him an intro that matches the beat well, but he grows stuck again after that, racing at top speed down the path to overcomplicating once again and, with time, he stops coming back to the song.

briefly, he considered trying to sell the instrumental off or asking someone else to write lyrics for him so he could present a full package to whoever he shopped it around to. deleting it off of his computer had been another option. he wasn’t confident enough in his abilities as a producer yet to believe his songs were of much value without his lyrics attached. this one had been created to prove something to himself, anyway, so what use would it be if it had to be finished by someone else?

february 2020.

the song has been abandoned in his files for months when he suddenly recalled it and, out of nowhere, suitable lyrics finally began to form themselves in his head. it was late and he’d had a bit to drink after returning home after a long day. valentine’s day was quickly approaching and it would be the first one he’d be spending alone since his scandal. a few vodka shots had seemed the fitting way to forget that.

tipsiness hadn’t been able to keep him out of his studio though and he’d sloughed into his chair as the black hood of his hoodie slipped off of the crown of his head onto his back, on a mission to get some work done before his head started hurting too badly. fifteen minutes into the mission, he had a loose leaf sheet of paper dotted with various phrases, most of which had something to do with the dark bubbly liquid poisoning his veins at that exact moment, but they mixed with lyrics fitting with the aquatic theme he’d come up with a few months prior, shaken loose from his mind by the ever-prying fingers of vodka.

it's like i'm drunk try mixing in another another blue sapphire let me know if there's an island for me in your sea it's like i'll explode the blue spreads through all of me if you want, you can fall into me

drunkenness and desire weren’t so different, he figured, as someone who’d gotten himself in trouble based off of both of those feelings before. his train of thought wasn’t very clear as he worked the rest of the song out, his thoughts veering into the safety of romance-colored interest, but his work came out in large chunks that gave him hope it wouldn’t be hopeless when he came back to it sober. 

when he did come back to the lyrics a day later, more sober and once the hangover had passed. while some of it was painfully clear in being the ramblings of a man under the influence, he’d gotten enough of a start in his state of lowered inhibitions for a less affected ash to fine tune the vocabulary and carefully round the edges into something more consumable, more seductive r&b ballad and less messy musings of an uninhibited might. it might not be the magnum opus of his lyrical career, but it wasn’t bad for such a highly metaphorical song written under the influence. it didn’t push ash too far outside of the walls of his comfort that had already done enough expanding while he worked on fatalism, and some cliches and over-bluntness had slithered into the lines, but it made the tone cheeky instead of taking itself too seriously, as ash was terribly prone to doing.

in a lot of ways, it reminded him of the song he’d written earlier in the month and turned in for his spring release. while woo ah had been colored pink in his mind, this was drenched in blues and purples, and even though he’d needed to drown himself in liquor to finish both of them, this one didn’t tie his stomach up into knots if he listened to it too many times in a row.

this one is a song about the desire, and maybe a little bit of frustration, of a new beginning and ash hadn’t felt that in years now. from that alone, it should have been harder to write, but the distance from the feeling might very well be what made it so easy to write about without ending up a mess by the time he was finished.

but, for some reason, it didn’t feel as distant as he thought it should.

[chyrstis]

With your hand in mine (it’s going to be fine)

Far Cry 5 Week -  Day 3: The Resistance

This was supposed to be completed way back on Tuesday, but it would’ve been much weaker (and shorter!) overall if I’d chosen to post then. Either way, this was a fun chance to focus on what happens around the Widowmaker mission, get in more Sharky time, and get in some time with Mary May as well.

Pairing: F!Dep x Sharky Boshaw (pre-ship but the feelings are there) Rating: T Word Count: 6.2K

Link to AO3!

___

The Widowmaker’s brought back to Fall’s End, and with its arrival comes a need to celebrate.

______________

“Over here.”

Hana followed close behind, keeping her gun nearby as Kat lead her towards the back of the garage. She wasn’t sure what to expect after seeing the severe look cross the older woman’s face, but when they turned the corner, Hana felt both of her eyebrows fly up.

Standing with their faces pressed to the wall were three Peggies, two men and one woman.  All of them had their hands bound behind their backs, and the resistance member posted nearby gave them a small nod before fixing his rifle back on them.

The minute she came into sight, the group as a whole tensed visibly. One even spat at her, missing her by a good two feet, but they got points for hutzpah.  

“Two of the three were jumped, but not shot, and the third threw down his arms. Ended up catching him on the way to the truck himself, and managed to fish this out of his pockets.” She dropped a large key into Hana’s hand. “Guess he thought he’d be able to make a break for it, but we intercepted him right after the remote bombs went off.”

“Ooh, the tricky dick,” she said, and let out a low whistle. “That was a small window to sneak through.”

Sharky’s roundabout trap hadn’t given the cultists many options to escape when the tide had started to turn, but when a few cut back to the trucks, that avenue was cut off with the push of a single button. She’d been close enough to shield her eyes from the flash of light, only to scramble away seconds later to avoid the falling, flaming debris that pelted her hiding place. Those that had been well-within range – like the four trying to clamber inside – hadn’t been as lucky.

It was tough to say if the three standing before them understood just how well they had fared in comparison to the others. She wasn’t a bad shot, Sharky’s shotgun shells tended to light up everything within two to three feet of him, and Hurk hadn’t been shy about using the rockets he’d dug up from Fall’s End’s surplus. Odds for any stray Peggies to make it through that were low to start, but here they were, waiting to see if the other shoe was about to drop.

“Figured it’d be bad sport to just shoot ‘em, but…I was tempted.”

Kat looked set on shooting one of them now, her attention set on the person that kept giving them all the raging stink eye, and Hana held up her hand. “I get that. It’s not like they were holding back any when we rolled up on them, but let’s work with this. Any good with knots?”

“Knots?” Kat ran a hand through her short blonde hair, and shrugged. “I can do a mean trucker’s hitch. Unless you were thinking knots meant to restrain, in which case I could probably go back to the ones my ex liked-“

Hana shook her head fast. “Uh, no. I mean, we need them all tied together, but not like…that?”

“Oh, then I think I’ve got you covered, ma’am.”

It took a few minutes to wrangle the group together, but once they were finished, the three were tied together in a circle, their hands still kept behind them as they each faced outward. The bonds were tight, but not enough to injure, and Hana honestly gave them less than a day tops before being discovered provided the loss of the Widowmaker didn’t put them all on high alert.

John hadn’t come after her yet for the sign – a fact that honestly still shocked her after how badly their conversation had gone - but at the first sign of trouble elsewhere she knew he’d swoop in. Even if he didn’t have a slew of comments waiting for her, he’d find other ways to retaliate, using that mouth of his to do what he did best.

Cloth rags had been wedged into their mouths as a means of keeping them silent, and she’d nearly lost a finger when one tried snapping at her.

Once they finished, she crouched down in front of a cultist with a large cross tattooed onto his left cheek, and propped her chin up on the backs of her folded hands.

“Hi. Hope you’re all feeling comfortable. No one’s going to harm you, I hope we’ve well established that by now, but I thought I’d make that clear just in case there’s any ambiguity going on. We’re about to roll on out of here with something that’s near and dear to one of our own’s heart, so as long as you sit pretty and do nothing, everything’ll go just fine. But before we leave, I’d like you all to do me a huge favor, just in the spirit of cooperation we’re trying to foster here. Nod once for yes, or shake your head for no.”

Daggers would’ve cut less, judging from the look she was receiving.

“…Okay. I can understand the resentment, but work with me here. When you get back to John, I want you all to give him a nice, big hello. I want you to greet him, I want you to tell him what we’ve done, and you can even embellish a little from there if you’re feeling creative and want to talk me up a little. Straight from the Deputy herself,” Hana said, making sure to draw out the syllables to the word like he would’ve. “You got it?”

The one that spat at her earlier mumbled-yelled a single word against their gag in response.

“Huh.” She lowered her sunglasses to look at them directly. “Hey, Kat? Did that sound like it was jam-packed full of the Power of Yes?”

She couldn’t see her, but there was no mistaking the snort she stifled. “Nope, not even a little.”

“Well, damn. I think John would be disappointed to hear that, but don’t worry. I’d have done the same,” she said, her lips twisting into a grin. “Because between you and me, I think I thrive off of his disappointment.”

---

With them wrangled and left as a parting gift for John, it was time to focus on the main event. The Widowmaker. With the keys in her hand, Hana made her way back around to the front, seeking her two main partners in crime.  It’d been a good ten to fifteen since she’d heard from them, which meant something was keeping them occupied, the only question was what?

…And could she get in on it too, if she was quick enough. Hopefully, the answer was a ‘hell, yes’.

Sure enough, she heard their voices as she walked up the side of the garage, and found them both standing right by the side entrance to it. Hurk stood nearby as Sharky was crouched down low beside the doorknob, fiddling with something in his hands, and their voices carried right over to her.

“-you’re right. We did try this once before, but I think it was using…”

“Dude, your dad’s older waterlogged shit was a pain to use. You gotta nail the right mix or you’ll get more pfft and less bang, and that’s just a letdown in every way.”

Sharky fiddled with the lock again, shoving something into it, and she was almost sad to step in. It was always interesting watching him work, even from a distance, and the end result was always worth it.

“Hey!” She whistled at them, and dangled the keys from her hand as she approached. “Much as I love MacGuyver and the whole jerryrigging a bomb out of chewing gum, a toothpick, and hope thing you’ve got going on, we need to get the hell out of dodge. We’ve probably got fifteen to twenty minutes max before someone tries to radio in, and I know we’ll be in trouble when the group back there finally gets free.”

“Shit, so much for that,” Sharky said, dusting off his jeans as he stood up. “Just when I was ready to call you over, and get the others to gather round too.”

“I mean, if you still want to pop that thing, I won’t stop you. After all of that hard work, it’d be a shame not to.”

Flashing him a wry grin, her attention drifted to the right as she turned away, and she nearly did a double-take. This wasn’t her first pass by the place, but this was her first with the liberty to pay full attention to her surroundings, and the poster was honestly pretty hard to miss given she was the subject.

“…Huh.”

This was supposed to be her, with her hair tied back, her sunglasses absent, and an interesting glint in her eye. The kind that usually came right before she decided to fuck someone up. For a rough representation of her, it wasn’t half bad. They had even nailed the freckles and the small scar on her chin, and she posed next to it as she considered it further.

But the real kicker, like with all of the others, was seeing stamped in large red letters below her face, the word ‘SINNER’. Like that was enough justification for wanting her taken in alone.

How old were these anyway? Had they been made shortly after losing her after the crash? After John took her? Hell, after Faith or Jacob’s turns?

It was tough to put a real timeframe on it, but the posters were in circulation now, just as they had been for the other key players in the Resistance, and she didn’t know how to feel. Either strangely honored to be enough of an annoyance to warrant it, or annoyed in general for them having to explicitly state it.

“They really do get off on the whole sinner thing, don’t they?”

“Everyone left running in the county’s got a poster, and some of us, even two.” Hurk said, patting his chest with pride. “I tried using a bunch of mine to get word about Hurk’s Gate out, but the giant banner saying ‘we won’t judge’ didn’t get a lot of flying before it was torched to the ground.”

“Killjoys. They clearly didn’t want the competition.”

“You’re telling me. It still kills me that they’ve got as many people signed up as they do, what with the ‘no fornication’ thing going on. Isn’t that just a recipe for bad feelings left to marinate when people can’t live, and love a little? I know I’d be harder than a diamond with some of those ladies I’ve seen walking around.”

Judging from Sharky’s solemn nod, he was firmly in that camp too, and she gave them both a knowing look. “I’m pretty sure there’s still fornicating. Get enough people together in close quarters long enough, many of which are just as pretty as the people leading them, and they’ll find a way.”

Thankfully she hadn’t had the awkward moment of stumbling onto anyone mid-screw, but if she did, she could only hope she’d handle the situation as tastefully as anyone in her position would. With carefully positioned eye contact, and any of the last shreds of her professionalism that she could scramble to apply.

“So, what do you two think? Is it a good likeness?”

Sharky turned, looking at her closely as she leaned against the wall. The poster was right between them, so he didn’t need to look far to make a comparison, but she could see his focus, and felt his gaze as he gave it some serious thought. Scanning every part of her face, she felt him concentrate on some parts more than others, and as her grin grew, she waited for him to make eye contact again.

“You know at first it, uh…“ He paused, drawing out the sound as she batted her eyes at him, and it took a good fifteen seconds for him to snap out of it. “Well, it looked like they got most of it minus the eyes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, giving Hana a small smile as he rubbed the back of his neck. His attention had skittered away from her, but with the next few words it came back in full. “Looking at that versus the real deal’s just not the same. Like with you here, right in front of me? Most of it’s right enough, but when we talk about your eyes, Dep? Well, yours are the kind that are all deep and dark, and easy to get lost in.”

Her breath left her in a rush. “…Uh, come again?”

“Like give me five, and I’ll be able to break away, but it’s rough going knowing that you have to when you don’t want to. Cause you need me to be a badass out there, not someone thinking ‘man, it’s sweet knowing you’ve got an amigo whose eyes are like a really cool cave you could stumble into when you’re lost in the woods’.”

He was definitely shooting a sweet look at her now, there was no mistaking it.

“The deep and dark that you could curl up in, knowing it’d keep you safe overnight, and you could even build a fire and roast some marshmallows in it. Like get some real good s’mores going. Not the deep and dark that’ll get you killed by bears out in the middle of nowhere. Cause that shit’s what gets you. No poster’s going to catch that.”

Even drowning in metaphors and pseudo-bears, she could tell he meant it, and that made her immediately go three shades darker. “Oh.”

“…He’s got a point,” Hurk said, after looking between the two of them. “Caves and bears, aside. You, I can tell you’re a person. This here’s an approximation and one scary lady you won’t want to cross. Like your evil twin or the clone growing in the basement.”

Sharky crossed his arms, looking pleased. “See? Couldn’t have put it better myself.”

Oh, God. They needed to get off of this topic now. “So, Sharky, are you going to blow that thing, or do you just want me to cut whatever’s left of this suspense with a knife?”

“Oh! You seriously want me to…?”

She nodded, and tried not to think about the key digging into her hand.

His lighter was out in an instant. “You’ll love this, H. Promise.”

---

Her vehicles of choice over the years had always been on the small side. Sedans, coupes, compacts, motorcycles, she loved them all, and had at one point even tried to cram herself into a friend’s Smart Car just to see what it was like.

The Widowmaker was a literal force in comparison. It was a battering ram on wheels, her foot a lead weight on the gas as it took on speeds that allowed it to punch through barriers without even giving too much of a shake. With the horn blowing, and Barracuda coming in loud and clear through the radio, nothing stood in their way as they sped straight towards Fall’s End.

It was nothing short of incredible, and she could easily see why Mary May and her father loved it so much. There was no obstacle too great, or too strong to hold them all back.

When the last fell and Mary May radioed in, she let out the breath she’d been holding. The guys, plus Kat and the other Resistance members, had chosen to cover the rear, turning their little troupe into a veritable convoy. It wasn’t subtle, but a massive truck with a flaming paint job wasn’t about to fly under anyone’s radar for long.

But it was back at home where it belonged, and that was the first step.

“Well, look at that!” Mary May said as they rolled up. “One hell of a sight for sore eyes. You don’t even know how it feels to see those colors again, Deputy, but it’s good. Mind giving that a pull one more time just to let them know what they’ve lost?”

The expression she wore was a mix of proud, fond, and elated, and Hana hit the horn one last time with gusto before leaning out of the window to better speak to her. “Where’d you like this?”

“Out over here. Follow me.”

Guiding her, Mary May helped her park the truck in space tucked next to the Spread Eagle. Whistling nervously as she guided the thing around, Hana kept her eyes locked on Mary May’s position until she was able to maneuver it safely into place.

“I could the hear the horn coming all the way into town.”

Hana glanced down at Mary May and the growing grin she wore, and found herself wanting to match it. “Well, it was one pull for every roadblock hit, but I might’ve also pulled it for every truck, so…”

“Good. I hope you hit every last fucking one of them.” Mary May let out a long sigh, her shoulders relaxing as she stared over at the truck. “This feels right. Like I can finally welcome back what never should’ve left to begin with. It’s home.” The next few words were quieter, but Hana saw her lips move to form them. “He’s home.”

Hana settled in next to Mary May, the two looking up at the Widowmaker, as the others pulled up in their vehicles around them.  Screeching to a stop, the small group burst into a round of cheers, slapping their hands on the doors of their vehicles as the sound rose in volume.

Hana joined in, giving Mary May a wide grin as an impromptu drum roll started – hers done right on her thighs - and the group started chanting, “Speech!” over and over.

Mary May eyed them all with mild exasperation, letting them continue for a solid minute before gesturing for them to stop.

“All right, all right! That’s enough out of you all. Today, you’ve all proven why the Resistance as a whole is going to win this thing. By banding together to pull off what they’ve tried to tell us is impossible. You brought home and helped to honor the memory of a good man today. A great one, that would’ve paid good money to see you give every last member of Eden’s Gate hell. This one’s for you, and later on tonight, I’d better see you all down at the Eagle so we can celebrate this right!”

The whoops and hollers were louder than ever this time around, ending in them all pumping the air with their fists. Shaking her head, but with a broad grin, Mary May finally waved hem all off.

“Okay, now get on out of here! We’ve got work to do before tonight, and I know those roads won’t be left clear for long.”

A few of the trucks drove off, waving at the two before zipping down the street, while other members of the Resistance hopped out to help in town. She caught Sharky’s eye as he and Hurk popped out of the truck bed nearby, and he ran up to her, trying and failing to put a lid on his excitement.

“Yo, they’re looking to head off some supply trucks headed south of here. Cracking one of those open’s kind of like Christmas come early, so…”

“We totally want to hop on that while we can,” she said, rubbing her hands together. “Sign me the hell up, but you two go on ahead for now. I’ll be right behind you.”

Sharky looked disappointed for a flash until Hurk slapped his arm and gestured for him to follow. The two tailed Kat as she launched into a story about the silo they had blown along the way, and Hana watched them head in the direction of the general store before turning back to Mary May.

“You know, he’d like this.”

“…This?” Hana asked, jabbing her thumb back at the Widowmaker.

Mary May waved her off. “If you’d brought it back in flawless shape, I’d have doubted half of what you got up to on the way.”

“Either way, you want this spit-shined back to perfection, I’ll do it myself. Repairs and labor, I’ll make it happen,” Hana said, ticking off each on her fingers.

“Deputy, you’re welcome to the Widowmaker whenever you’d want it. After what you’ve done to bring it back home, I know my father would want us to keep its spirit alive. Not through keeping it here, locked up and safe, but out there doing what it does best.”

She turned to Hana, and lightly tapped her arm before heading off towards the Spread Eagle.

“And I know you’d have an idea or two that would suit it just fine.”

---

Things had changed in Fall’s End.

It had been a gradual change. Slow, and steady as the buildings formerly left empty and hollow took on a different kind of life.

The colors of the Resistance flew high as the last of the cult’s banners and influence were torn down and destroyed. Trucks cruised in and out, many of them bringing in family and friends formerly thought lost as word spread throughout the region that it was safe to come back. Others walked the streets, armed still, but no longer afraid of what that might cost them.

And there was no place she felt it more keenly than at the Spread Eagle.

The bar buzzed with activity, far beyond those early days when she’d shared a beer with Jerome and Mary May. Back then, it felt like a toast welcoming better days. A spoken and unspoken promise that they would all get there somehow, and this honest to God, felt like progress. Actual, possible progress.

Hana basked in it as she leaned against the bar, letting her eyes fall shut. She’d always been a city girl, used to crowds and people more than the silence the country offered, and having the chance to feel that energy again was exhilarating. She never wanted that feeling to fade.

“Hey, you doing good so far?”

Her eyes snapped open, and she turned to better face Mary May. “I’m good. Working on getting better, but it’s a decent start.”

“What’ll help?” she asked, leaning against the bar. “It’s my job to ask while you’re up here.”

Hana shrugged, and played with one of the loose strands of hair that had escaped her bun. “Well…I was eying the special for a little while.”

“And?”

“You don’t actually mention what’s in it.”

Mary May shrugged. “I’ll tell you if you really want to know, but for that one I recommend giving it a shot before you do. It’s got a punch to it, but one that I haven’t heard too many complaints about.”

“Yet?” That got her a look, and Hana chuckled. “Don’t worry. I doubt you’ll get any from me.”

She looked over her shoulder and took in the atmosphere of the bar again, the low music playing off to the side, and the two waiting for her nearby. They got a quick wave from her – she really hadn’t meant to linger this long, but her pursuit of a drink had taken a backseat to fun conversation instead – and she  turned back to Mary May.

“Was this close to it? One of the usual nights at the Eagle before things went…you know?”

“Went straight to hell? Not always, but this is a small town. Out of all of the things you can get up to here that’s legal, drinking and dancing’s one of the better ones.” She pulled out a glass and reached for a nearby bottle of vodka. “Probably would’ve seen you here before long too,” she said with a smile.

“Either for drinking, or dancing?”

“Why choose?” Mary May added a few other things to the drink as Hana watched, liking the sunset shade that bloomed from it. “Though I think you’re a dancer.”

Hana snorted. “Really? I mean, you’re not wrong, I just didn’t think it’d be that easy of a guess.”

The drink was garnished with a cherry and Mary May slid it towards her. “You hardly sit still for long, so sticking close to the bar to keep on filling her up until you’re blind just didn’t seem like the right pick for you.”

“No, I do love finding great ways to burn that buzz off. I’ll give you that too.”

Hana picked up the glass, and gave the liquid inside a small swirl before trying it. Damn. Mary May was on point tonight. Taking another longer drink, she slid a few bills across the counter and found herself trying to follow the rhythm of the song playing on the jukebox.

“But do you dance?” She swayed her hips a bit before leaning back against the counter, her smile definitely bordering on flirtatious.

“Not on my shift,” Mary May replied without missing a beat. “But ask me again when it’s over, and I might have a different answer for you.”

Hana bit back an awkward laugh as the other woman smiled at her, and when it grew into a legitimate grin, she tapped her fingers on the counter before retreating. “Maybe I will…?”

“We’ll see in a few hours won’t we? You better come back to check!” she called out after her.

Burying her face in her drink, Hana took a large gulp of it, and hoped no one caught any of that. Lucky for her, both Sharky and Hurk were plenty distracted when she approached, both of them pointing over at the group bordering the dance floor. Only a few were attempting to dance at this point, but the others were crowding right by the old arcade machine, yelling loudly for every success and failure the person playing encountered.

That was the primary draw of the spot at the moment, not the little jukebox in the back.

“That’s pretty damn sad, man,” Hurk said with a sigh. “When even the dancing’s taking a backseat to that-“

“It’s a fucking crime, right?”

Hurk turned towards her in surprise, both of them lighting up at seeing her, but his eyebrows went up when she quickly placed the drink down and started digging around in her pocket. Pulling out a twenty dollar bill, she unrolled it and tugged it between her hands.

“This place does need more dancing, but to do that we need the right music. You make this magic happen, and I’ll gladly pony up the funds for it.”

The surprise faded in a heartbeat, as Hurk’s expression went serious. “Done and done, Deputy V. It’ll be my civic duty, because no one’s out there doing so much as a drunken do-si-do, and that’s just insulting.”

Her face scrunched up at the nickname, but once Hurk had taken the cash and all but sprinted towards the dance floor, her sour expression faded fast.

Plopping down in the chair next to Sharky, she let out a contented sigh. “Ah, now the relaxing can begin. Taking any bets on how much longer they’ll last?”

“Dude’s some kinda wizard at it. I can’t think of a time when he isn’t up there messing around with the game, which sucks, because what if someone else puts a quarter up there hoping to get in a turn? So much for common courtesy and the gamer code, man. Shit’s falling apart.”

He took a drink, aiming his glare right over at the arcade machine, and Hana idly wondered just how many turns he would’ve taken with it otherwise. At the very least two, judging from the way he kept on watching, and she lightly nudged his arm to help him focus on something else.

“So, what are you going to do now?”

“Now?” Sharky put his beer down and gave her a funny look. “I’m gearing up to hit that dance floor in fifteen to twenty. Gotta get good and buzzed before dishing it out, though, cause these moves are certified deadly without easing in all gentle-like.”

Hana coughed into her drink. “No, not that. I mean tomorrow. Or hell, within the next few days. I figured I’d cut you loose, and let you go back to doing your own thing.”

“Uh, that’s…you were?”

There was hurt there. Just for a second, as he buried it back down, and she frowned. “Yeah, I figured you’d be sick of running around with me, and wanted to, you know. Go back home, help Addie, or work on that antifreeze problem that’s been bugging you.”

“Nah, man,” he said, giving her an easy smile. “With you, it’s a fucking party every day of the week, and I don’t know what’ll come up tomorrow. I can burn shit all day any day back there outside, pants-free, and drunker than a skunk. Here it’s after taking a motherfucking joyride through Peggie roadblocks, while hurling molotovs in an action hero’s dream ride. I haven’t had this much fun in…” He paused, ticking it off on his fingers, then waved it off. “Years, easy.”

“Sharky, seriously-“

“I’m being serious! And someone’s gotta watch your back. I’m here with you right now, so that’s covered, and should’ve been covered the other three times they came in, took you, and somehow did it without anyone noticing.” He crossed his arms, and gave an aggravated huff. “Which, I guess I gotta get on their level next time to stop that shit, or we both start doing everything back to back which is weird-“

“Just a little,” she said, hiding her smile behind her hand.

“Especially since I know you don't want to see what goes down when I wake with a problem. Like a hard one that really only a hands-on solution’ll fix. …But it’d take only take ten to fifteen minutes max to crank it out, so I could tell you when to start looking my way again so you won’t see my dick hanging out. Who’s gonna do that when I’m gone?”

She chewed on her lip, thinking every last bit of that over – some parts more than others - and started chuckling. “Geez, that’s…I really don’t know. It’s a pretty compelling argument.”

“Hell, yeah it is.”

He was serious. At least as serious as she’d ever seen him, and she leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table between them. “I guess I’m just stuck with you then. Or, actually on the flip side, you’re just stuck with me. Sure you’re ready for that?”

Mirroring her, he leaned forward too, except he held out his right hand to her. “Ride or die, H. That’s how I roll.”

It took her a minute to react, split between what he’d said and the fact that she didn’t doubt him. Not in the slightest.

She clapped her hand against his, held it, and couldn’t quite stop the shy smile that crossed her face. “Because, how’d it go? We shoulder each other’s burdens and shit?”

“From one amigo to another.” He pointed at her and winked, keeping her hand in his.  “Ain’t any other way I know it.”

A tray hit the table right by her elbow, making her jump in her seat.

“Fucking finally,” Hurk said, swiping a hand across his forehead. “Took me fifty years to make my way back, but there was one hell of a line at Miss Mary May’s so…”

He looked between them, and raised an eyebrow.

She quickly let go, and spoke up before Hurk could. “Still looking to hit that dance floor later?”

“If it’s the last thing I do tonight. This place’s starting to act like the party up and died, and I just can’t abide by that.” Hurk pushed the drinks towards them. “Get on this, and we’ll get-“ he pointed towards the empty spot in front of the jukebox – “on reviving that.”

“Cool, let me actually grab something guaranteed to speed up that process.”

She slipped out of her chair, walking way too fast for it be subtle, but made her way over to Mary May again and hoped her face wasn’t as red as she feared it was. “There’s no limit on the special, right?”

Mary May was wiping down a glass, and gave her a curious glance. “Nope, long as you’re paying, and not spraying.”

She slid the cash across the counter. “I’ll take two.”

---

Both drinks had been for her, and both were shot shortly after being poured. She then proceeded to make her way back over to the guys, both of which had soundly put a dent in Hurk’s pre-dance offerings.

Coming straight from Mary May the next day, what she witnessed happen on that dance floor was some of the worst dancing she’d seen in a long while. Which seemed a little unfair considering she had tried to at last bring her B-game with some solid 80’s and 90’s moves to keep things lively.

It had felt good and pretty coordinated in the moment, she’d figured. She was also certain she’d kept her limbs from knocking against Sharky’s too much as he lead her through the next disco move he demonstrated, and hadn’t collided with Hurk more than once, maximum. She’d swear on it the next day, even with Mary May shaking her head at her.

At some point the music had changed. Their playlist had run out only for someone else to feed the jukebox, and the new tune meant a shift in mood. So, the softer thing made sense for a waltz or slow-dance, and she grabbed for one of the guys to get with it.

She had been promised dancing, dammit, and right now, silly and drunk as she was, this was the first happy and carefree thing she’d been able to do in weeks.

Hurk was first, and let her take the lead. He even let her keep it too, with her half-stepping on his feet, and mid-way through she was sure he attempted to make it a tango. Complete with the cocktail stirrer between his teeth, and who knew when the hell he’d grabbed it. Only that his eyebrows were going into overdrive, and she was going to laugh herself into a pile on the floor.

When she came out of it, still giggle-snorting, Sharky took his turn, and she nearly smacked him in the face with her elbow when she stumbled into him.  He steadied her, giving her something solid to hold onto, and took her hand in his as he placed the other on his shoulder – both of his hands surprisingly steady for how many drinks along he was.

Once she was in place, he nodded when he was ready. She nodded back, her chin tilted up to meet his eyes, and let him take her around. It was the kind of dancing she hadn’t done since her prom, but it felt right as the older tunes from the jukebox kept on playing behind them.  

He concentrated hard on this, watching both of their feet, and she knew she was swaying too much for him to make up for all of it. In, out, he was the one balancing her as they turned, and her forehead bumped into his chin, making them both hang in place as they rubbed at the sore spots that smack earned.

An idea hit as she held onto him, at times almost flush against him, and she got it out while she could still verbalize it. “Hey,” she said, leaning up on her toes to whisper in his ear. “Dip me.”

He gave her one hell of a strange look. “Dip what?”

“Dip me. You know. Like hold onto me, and lean me back? Like in those old classic ballroom dancing movies?”

“Uh, don’t think I’ve seen too many of those, chica.” He turned towards her, their faces a lot closer than before, and he grinned. “I kinda got an idea of what you mean, though, so let me know if this does it for you.”

The dip after nearly threw her off, making her squeak as he attempted it, but she held on. And when he pulled her back up, the rush left her feeling giddy all over.  

It was on dip number two that she felt a jolt. An uncomfortable lurch, lingering somewhere between her stomach and her chest that he could read right from the position he was holding her.

“You losing it, Dep?”

She swallowed, and cringed. “I am totally losing it.”

Hoisting her up, she sprinted for the door, and barely made it to the Spread Eagle’s curb outside before vomiting.

“I think I’m done here, hon,” she croaked. She held on tight to Sharky’s arm as she wobbled in place, spitting a few more times to get the taste out, and let him pull her up. “Is this-“ she gestured towards her face, “pretty gross, or?”

“Nah, you ain’t gross. Just feeling close to it, right?”

He handed her a handkerchief, and she swiped it across her mouth. “Yeah. So gross.”

When she was sure she was decent, she leaned her head against his chest, and felt his arms wrap around her. Being held like that, close and warm, made her eyes slip shut, and she hummed contently as they stood there together.

“Where you staying at?”

He had to ask the question twice, likely because her first answer was mumbled directly into the material of his hoodie. “Upstairs. Mary May’s got the details.”

“I’ll get you there, shorty. Don’t worry.”

Holding onto him tight, she followed him as he guided her back inside.

[coneygoil]

 The Home We Built Together, part 17

Two young Vikings. An arranged marriage. Hiccup always wanted to win the girl of his dreams, but not like this. Now he and Astrid must learn to live together and maybe one day, learn to love…

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9| Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16

The fingers of consciousness crept upon him as Hiccup entered the waking world. The break of dawn faintly washed the bedroom with the first beams of sunshine. Hiccup tried to move, but his arm was stuck under something. As the memories from just a few hours ago came tumbling back, his heart sped up its pace.

Astrid had curled up against him and silently prompted him to wrap his arm around her. Resting his palm on her waist was nothing compared to her entire body flush against him. Sure, they’d touched and kissed and (finally!) held hands for longer than a brief moment, but never had they been this close, not even for a simple hug.

As he watched his wife sleeping in the early morning light, Hiccup was caught up in the surreal notion that this was his life. Only four months prior Astrid didn’t even give him a second glance, but now she desired for him to hold her as if they were lovers. They were friends, smitten for one another. One day, they could – they would -- be lovers.

Hiccup’s breath caught and his mouth went dry at the prospect. Before their arranged marriage, he’d reasoned in his young mind that he was in love with Astrid Hofferson. She was everything a Viking could ask for. Hiccup realized that his infatuation was just a crush and that getting to know Astrid as a person was truly what formed the love in his heart for her now.

His thoughts suddenly switched to the day before. The Night Fury. It was crazy to believe that a Viking could befriend a dragon, but there he was sharing a “meal” with the Night Fury and drawing in the sand together. It’d taken a few hours to gain the dragon’s trust, but Hiccup had left the cove with the cool touch of the Night Fury’s nose on his palm.

Gobber’s words from the evening before had propelled his creative mind to build a prosthetic tail for the dragon. He had to save this dragon, and giving him the ability to fly again was the only way. The plan for today was to make the Night Fury happy with a full belly while attaching the new tail. It would be a challenge, but Hiccup wasn’t afraid of trying.

The day would leave him flying or falling, or maybe both.

***

Hiccup had spent his whole life trying to find a way to kill a dragon when he could have just drove them off with…eels. Yep, plain ole’ eels. The Night Fury, who he’d dubbed Toothless after yesterday’s bonding, reared up in terror at the sight of the eel in the basket of fish Hiccup had brought him.

“Having an eel around would of made dragon raids a whole lot easier,” Hiccup muttered as he carefully stepped up to Toothless’ half-tail.

In the last few days, he’d learned more about this one dragon than any book could have taught him. The Book of Dragons was good for one thing: describing how a dragon killed its victims. Spending time with Toothless had been the most educational experience of Hiccup’s short life.

“That’s was a good first try today, huh, buddy?”

The prosthetic tail had worked. Toothless had soared through the air, unceremoniously with Hiccup hanging on for dear life. The only problem was Toothless couldn’t control the tail, but Hiccup’s mind was already cooking up an idea to help with that and it would involve teamwork.

Hiccup was soaring at the prospect of flying with a dragon. His fingers itched to get back to the forge and craft a saddle and rig to control the new tail fin. But all that would have to wait for today. Responsibilities were calling him back to the village, but it could wait a few more minutes.

Her nose wasn’t quite right, but it was hard to capture any image perfectly when drawing in dirt. Toothless watched over his shoulder, much like he did the day before. A low, questioning rumble hummed from Toothless. Hiccup glanced at the dragon, an affectionate smile tugging at his lips.

“This is my wife, Astrid,” he explained, pointing his stick at the picture in the dirt. At the bewildered gleam in Toothless’ eyes, he reworded to something the dragon might understand better, “Astrid is my mate.” He dropped the stick and laced his fingers. “Me and her. Together. Forever.”

A look of understanding crossed the dragon’s expressive green eyes.

“Do you have a mate? A together forever?” Hiccup asked, curiously. As far as he knew, Toothless was the only Night Fury in the perimeter of Berk.

Toothless gave a little whine as he bowed his head.

Hiccup reached out to pat his friend’s head. “There’s always a chance you’ll find a mate one day, buddy. Trust me, I never thought me and Astrid had a chance, but now,” lovely blue eyes accompanied by a bright smile flashed in his mind’s eyes, “we really have something special.”

***

Today’s training lesson was in teamwork. The goal was to wrangle the Hideous Zippleback into its cage with your teammate. Hiccup inwardly begged Gobber to team him up with Astrid, who’d returned to dragon training the day before. But when Gobber announced, “Hiccup, you’re with Fishlegs,” his whole body deflated. At least he wasn’t teamed up with his meathead cousin.

Speaking of Snotlout, him and Tuffnut were getting their butts blown off at the moment by the Hideous Zippleback.

Astrid’s words from a couple days ago cropped up in his mind as he joined Fishlegs by the railing to watch the epic fail in progress. Maybe Fishlegs would be open to talk to him if Snotlout and the twins weren’t around. Maybe if Hiccup took the first step, they could start a conversation.

“Hey…uh, Fishlegs.”

The larger boy glanced over at him in surprise, his overbite resting on his bottom lip. “Uh…hey, Hiccup.”

The awkwardness was thicker than yak’s milk, but Hiccup was willing to try to make a friend. “So, you like learning about dragons?”

Fishlegs tipped his head and shoulder, nonchalantly. “Yeah.”

Hiccup mentioned the first species from the Book of Dragons that came to mind. “The speed stinger sounds cool - paralyzing its victims with the stinger of its tail. I wonder how long you’d be paralyzed. Or the Scouldron shooting scolding hot water from its mouth. That would definitely hurt.”

Hiccup glanced over at Fishlegs to gage his reaction. The boy’s face was slowly exploding into a wide smile and his eyes gleamed with excitement.

“Finally, someone read the Book of Dragons!” Fishlegs squeed in an outrageously high pitch that caught Hiccup off guard.

That little starter topic opened a flood gate. Hiccup had never seen Fishlegs so animated. It was like a completely different person stood in front of him. They discussed various types of dragons, the concerning screams of Snotlout and Tuffnut from the arena floor muted as they chatted.

It wasn’t long before it was their turn to wrangle the Hideous Zippleback back into its pen. Fishlegs stood with his back to Hiccup, rambling off facts about the Zippleback, as Gobber released the two-headed menace once again.

Hiccup suspected the dragon to be furious with this second go-around. He doubted Fishlegs would be any help wrangling the Zippleback. The scholarly boy didn’t seem to have a slaying bone in his boy. Hiccup could relate.

A popping blast exploded from the cage, and the Zippleback emerged from the smoke. Fishlegs’ screams rang off the stone walls as he and Hiccup dodged the charging dragon.

“Be authoritative with this leather sack!” Gobber’s voice yelled from somewhere in the distance.

“How can you be authoritative when it wants to kill you?!” Fishleg retorted in a panic.

The Zippleback seemed to prefer the terrified boy and continued its pursuit. Fishleg’s short legs were getting slower and clumsier, and it was no surprise when he tripped face down on the hard ground. The Zippleback reared up, flashing its wings and screeching.

Hiccup knew this was his opportunity. He wasn’t 100% sure this would work. Maybe only Night Furies were frightened by eels, but there was no better time than now to test it out.

“Back!” he ordered as he jumped between Fishlegs and the Zippleback. “Back! Back!” The dragon began to recoil, alarmed at the small amount of eel sticking out of Hiccup’s vest.

“Now don’t you make me tell you again! Back into your cage.” Hiccup couldn’t believe this was working! That meant that possibly all dragons were spooked by eels.

“Now think about what you’ve done,” he said casually. The Zippleback shrank against the wall as he tossed the eel into the cage.

Hiccup shut the cage door and turned around to find Gobber and the other teens at the entrance of the arena, staring at him. The sight was a bit comical, really, with wide eyes and mouths hanging slightly agape.

“That was sick!” Snotlout broke the silence, apparently forgetting he was complimenting his cousin.

Fishlegs was the first to rush him. “That was insane, Hiccup! How did you do that?!”

“Yeah, tell us your secret, oh dragon master,” Tuffnut bowed his head as if addressing royalty.

Hiccup wiped his palms on his vest. “Uh, I was being authoritative like Gobber said to be.” He nodded a little too exaggerated to further his point. “Yep, be authoritative. That’s the key.” Thumbing to the side, he added, “So, uh, am I done? I got some things I need to, uh…yep. Gone.”

Hiccup dashed out of the arena before he was questioned any further. He had more pressing matters than caging a dragon…like helping a certain Night Fury break free of his own cage.

@martabm90 @chiefhiccstrid @lauracalabresi

[sweetcatmintea]

What does Mary Know?

Flash fiction Friday!! I’ve gotta just do this upload quickly because it’s 3:43 am and cold as anything XD I failed the prompt challenge by going a liiiitle over the word limit <.<;; But I hope you like this story! Feedback is appreciated ^u^

Prompt: Peachy Kissies

Words: 2501 (orz)

Character(s): Xavier, Mary, and Will

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          “Xave, if you want to come to the creek, you have to get ready.” Exasperation tinged Mary’s voice. Progress was cut short, yet again, by her little brother. They were supposed to have been out the door ten minutes ago, but she hadn’t even finished brushing her short, ginger snap brown hair yet, constantly stop-starting thanks to Xavier’s dawdling.

          “I am ready!” He just hadn’t brushed his teeth. Or gotten his hat. Or his sandals. Totally ready.

          Mary sighed. “Have you put your sunscreen on, or do you need help?” He was remarkably autonomous for his age, but that wasn’t what she was really asking. As expected, he puffed his freckled cheeks, crossing his arms with a huff.

          “Don’t wanna!”

          “Xave. You can’t leave the house unless you put sunscreen on. You’ll get burnt.”

          He thrashed his tail, the image of petulance. “No!”

          Another sigh. “Then you’ll have to go to school with Mama today instead.”

          Oh boy. Here it comes. An angry flush coloured his skin. “Nooo!! I wanna go wif youuuu!!!”. His face, usually dimpled with a smile, was overtaken with a deep scowl. Mary resisted the urge to bury her face in her paws, and maybe scream a little. Barely. Why did this always happen when it was her turn to look after him? Frustration bubbled in her guts, trying to claw its way up her throat. Logically, she knew it wouldn’t help anything to lose her temper. Unfortunately, logic was benched right now. Before everything boiled over, Will popped his head around the corner.

          “What’s all the noise?” Toothbrush dangling between his teeth, he took a second to survey the room and exchange a Look conversation with Mary. Catching onto the situation, he feigned a shocked look. “You’re not telling Xave to use sunscreen, are you!?” He waited a beat, glancing down at his brother. A stage whisper now. “You know he’s not ready for that yet!”

          Mary shrugged. She wasn’t quite sure what Will’s game plan was, but she could run with it. “I thought he was. You’re probably right though.” A deep sigh. “He’s still just too little.”

          “Whaddya mean?” Xavier eyed his siblings, trying to wrangle the answers out with his mind. Something suspicious was happening here.

          Will stumbled over himself a moment, surprised that Xavier caught on. “Ah, well, you see, only big kids get to put on sunscreen. It’s very important so little kids like you can’t do it yet.”

          “I’m not little! I’m a big kid too!!” Xavier stood as tall as he possibly could, fox tail wriggling with earnest. “See!”

          Will and Mary exchanged looks again. Will shook his head. “I don’t know. What do you think Mares?”

          “Hmmm. I think he’s still too little… Maybe a big kid should show him how it’s done.”

          “When you’re right, you’re right. I was just about to put some on myself. Do you want to come and put sunscreen on with me, Xave?”

          “I do I do I dooo!”

          “Come on then.”

          Xavier didn’t waste another second, pouncing onto his brother’s outstretched hand and dragging him off to the bathroom. Mary mouthed a thank you to Will as they went. The air always seemed a little lighter when Will was around. Probably because he seemed so unfazeable. She was a little envious of him for that. The frustration had simmered away, but watching her brothers had left a cold pebble in her chest.

~

          Thanks to Will’s intervention, they were out of the house in no time. Xavier begged for his big brother to join them, but he was stuck with Mary for the day. Will had work to do. They were lucky enough to catch the bus just as it rolled to the stop, shuffling on board and claiming the back row. It wasn’t all that unusual for this bus to be close to empty. It was a route less travelled.

          Mary stared idly out the window, half leaning on the plasticy frame of the chair in front of them. Motion sickness was a pain at the best of times. With the way the bus was swaying over every bump in the near-dirt road, one look down and she’d be redecorating the seat covers.

          “Hey Maary?”

          “Hm?”

          Xave was already pretty much flush against her, but he managed to scoot closer. He put his face up to hers. She could feel his warm kid breathe with every whispered word. “Mary?”

          “What’s up Xave?”

          “Mary, what’s boredish mean?”

          “What do you mean? Where’d you hear it?”

          “The lady up there.” A nod to the middle-aged woman perched on the reserved sideways seats. “She said ‘I can’t belief they let someone so boredish on the bus’.” The woman flinched. Xavier’s whispering skills were not nearly as strong as he thought. She stared ahead, stiffly avoiding Mary’s honey gaze. A totally average person. No claws. No fur. No tag. Privileged.

          “Is that right?”

          “Mn hm.”

          “I think you mean boarish. It means ‘boar-like’, someone who is rude. A boar is a wild pig.”

          Xavier looked thoughtful, considering her explanation. “Are boars rude?”

          “I don’t know. I’ve never met one.”

          “How come she said it then?” He continued before she could answer. “Isn’t it more rude to say mean things when you don’t know if someone is rude? ‘Cause then, you don’t know. You know? Because maybe boars are actually very nice but maybe they get grumpy because people say mean things about them. An then maybe they be rude because they’re grumpy? I think maybe we shouldn’t say that word unless we meet some really rude boars. But not boars that are grumpy because people are mean to them. Right?” He fiddled with her paw as he spoke, cold little fingers working through the thick fur.

          Mary managed to fight the urge to chuckle as the woman’s embarrassed fidgeting increased at every word. Instead, she nodded solemnly along with Xavier’s reasoning. “That sound like a good idea to me.” He beamed at her agreement.

~

          Much rocking and waiting later, their stop came into view. To Xavier’s unyielding delight, Mary let him press the stop button. They hopped off the bus to hike the rest of the way. In honesty, it wasn’t that far. It was the thick humidity that weighed them down, making every movement heavy and sluggish, delaying their arrival further. They took their time and finally reached their destination. Water babbled quietly over smooth river pebbles. Bugs sang to the sweaty sun, hiding from its gaze in the long tufts of grass bordering the creek. The water wasn’t that deep, the heat of the season left it lucky to reach over Mary’s belly button in its deepest parts. Still, she’d have to be vigilant. Any aquatic body can be dangerous for a child. Speaking of, Xavier was already making a beeline to the water.

          “Wait a minute! Floaties or no swimming!”

          He spun around, hopping from foot to foot. “But!”

          “Come on, it’ll just take a minute.”

          He whined but returned to her as she fished the deflated water wings from her patchwork backpack. She was still proud of how that had turned out. She pulled them out carefully, the rubber as soft as it was slippery between her long claws. The last thing she needed was to accidentally puncture it and then have to explain to a very upset fox child why he couldn’t swim. Managing to grip them in her paw pads, she snapped the lids open, blowing them up while answering Xavier’s questions between breaths.

          “Hey Mary?”

          Blow! Breath. Answer. “Yeah?”

          “Are floaties for big kids?”

          Blow! Breath. Answer. “Yep.”

          “How come you don’t got any?”

          Blow! Seal. Breath. Answer. “They don’t fit my big ol’ bear arms. I’m very jealous you get to be so cool with these fire floaties.”

          “Really!?”

          “Mn hm. Really really.”

          He bounced on his toes, sliding the water wings up as far as they would go. “Well, you can borrow mine then! Um! But you can use just one. We’ll put it on, uh, your, on your foot! And then I’ll have one! And then together, we’ll be cooler than Will, right? Even though Will is the coolest, I think if we’re both cool with the floaties, we can be coolister than Will, ‘kay? ‘kay! Can I go swim now?”

          Mary laughed, nodding. “You can swim, but stay where I can see you. Otherwise, we will have to go straight home. Okay?”

          He was already running for the water. “’Kay!”  

          It was really something else, the way Xavier looked up to William. Whenever he was around, Xave was practically attached to him, and not always metaphorically. There were fights, or the closest approximation you can have with someone who barely reaches over your knee, sometimes. Of course there were. All siblings have disagreements. They’d probably get into more arguments now that Xavier was becoming more articulate. He had Opinions now. But ties were always mended quickly. Will had a knack with children. He always seemed to know what to say and how to act around them. As far as role models go, he was a pretty good choice too. Maybe it was because he’s a lot like Mama. In a way, Mary was embarrassed by it. Not because of Will acted, but because her brother was so much better with children than she was. When they had first been told of Xave’s conception, she’d imagined herself as a nurturing big sister who would share the world with the new baby. And, while he was still a little bean, she’d been good at the nurturing stuff. Once he’d gotten bigger, started thinking and exploring for himself, she didn’t know what to do. She struggled to understand his garbled baby talk and couldn’t keep up with his games. Her paternal instincts hibernated while Will’s thrived. It she had to put her finger on it, she’d guess it was his creativity and natural intelligence that did it for him. Where she was playing by the book, he was working the court, three moves ahead. It was hard not to feel inferior at times. It wasn’t that she resented him, quite the opposite, she greatly admired her brother. It just would have been nice to have a special bond like theirs.

~

          It didn’t take long until the sweat clinging to her hair and her fur urged her to join Xavier. The water was unbelievably nice. Cool, clear, sparkling. Freshness you couldn’t bottle. And, more importantly, a reprieve from the unbearable weather. Dragonflies zipped around, far too fast to be concerned with new comers. What more could she want? 

          They splashed around, enjoying the freedom of the quiet country around them. Most of the fish spooked the instant they’d arrived, noisy and laughing, fleeing the scene to hide in whatever cracks they could find. Some grew bold, creeping back as they gained courage. The longer Mary and Xavier stayed in the water, the closer they came. When Mary pointed them out, Xavier charged after the flickering silver, determined to catch one. She called him back almost immediately, trying to distract him with a frog. Too late. Scrambling wildly over a mossy rock, his paw slipped, sending him face first into the water with a loud splash. He pulled himself up, dripping and processing what had happened. Mary restrained herself from running over and scooping him up. Wait. Give him a chance. Does he need help of was he just surprised? For a long moment, only the water moved. Gently gliding past the pair as though they were nothing more than the environment it knew so well. Xavier stared at his palms, skinned and bleeding. Tears welled as he shouted for his sister.

          “Maarryyyyy!”

          She was there in an instant, easily pulling him into her arms and onto dry land. She settled him onto a log, pulling everything she needed out of her bag. Xavier was, to put it lightly, accident prone. She’d learned quickly to always be prepared. Just last week he fought a door. The door won.

          “Marryyy! My floaties didn’t save meeee!” He sobbed, devastated at their betrayal.

          “Here, let me see. Did you hurt yourself?”

          A tearful nod. “Mn hm.” He held his hands out, palms to the sky and fingers half curled like a dead spider.

          “That’s no good. Let me fix it up, ‘kay?” She towelled down the area, drying his skin so she could better see the extent of the injury. It wasn’t too bad. She gave him a reassuring smile. Sure, there’d probably be a good bruise tomorrow but the grazes themselves weren’t too severe. He’ll live. Popping the lid off her first aid kid, she cleaned the site. Years of fiddling with a sewing needle had given her a surgeon’s steady hand, despite her clumsy paws. She just needed to be in the right mindset to do precision work – not thinking about it.

          Xavier whimpered as the antiseptic got to work. “It hurts, Mary.”

          “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. It’s going to hurt a little. There are tiny little, uh, knights, in the cream that have to go and, beat up any baddies that might have gotten into the cut.”

          He was still crying, but intrigued enough to ask. “Really? There are knights in there?”

          “Yep. You can’t see them because they are very, very, tiny, but they’re there.” Mary finished her work, sticking on water proof bandaids. “Do you want the magic healing spell?”

          “Mn hm.”

          “Ok.” She kissed his palms. “One kiss, two kisses,” then his forehead “and a big kissaroo so my love can heal you!” She threw her hands in the air to finish the incantation.

          Xavier mimicked her, sniffle giggling, before wrapping his arms around her in a bear hug. He looked up at her, his chin pressing into her shirt. “How come you smell all sweet Mary?”

          “Hm. It’s probably my lip balm. I put it on earlier.”

          “Can I have some?”

          “Yeah, here you go.”

          He took the tube, concentrating to not overwind it. When he was satisfied that his lips were appropriately caked, he planted a noisy smooch on Mary’s cheek. “Now you have a kiss too! Aw, you can’t see it though. There’s no colour. Can you smell it Mary?”

          She could certainly feel the waxy balm smeared across her skin. Well, the peach one was her favourite, so it wasn’t too bad. “Sure can! I reckon Mumsie can probably smell it from all the way in the bakery, there’s so much on us!”

          That satisfied him. The freckles across his face crinkled into new constellations as he grinned up at her.  “Hey Mary?”

          “Yeah?”

          “Mary, do you know?”

          “I don’t know.”

          He was whispering again. “Mary, do you know, Will is my favouritest brother?”

          “Really?”

          “Mn hm. But Mary, do you know? Mary, you’re my favouritest big sister. ‘Cause I love Mary lots and lots. Do you love me too Mary?”

          She kissed his forehead again. “Lots and lots.”

----------

Tag list

@cawolters, @inkovert, @snobbysnekboi, @kainablue, and @i-rove-rock-n-roll

[kegareki]

25, 33, 35, 36, 39, 52, 67, 39, 94 for you! ^u^ and for Luce, 5, 41, 42, 52, 85, 90, 91, 94, 95, 98. answer the ones you wanna answer :')

:D :D thank you for sending questions!

for me:

25) What color socks are you wearing?

i am not wearing socks because it is Too Hot For That, Currently

33) What do you typically have for breakfast?

... there was a period of three months in a row and then another month just now where i ate egg sandwiches and orange juice for breakfast, so i'm going to go with that

35) Have you ever tried archery?

I Have Not, Unfortunately

36) Favorite clean word?

... good question. uh. i like words for surprised, like flabbergasted and gobsmacked

39) Do you have any scars?

i have four dotted lines on the back of my right hand that i vaguely think of as having earned in a fishing incident, though i'm not sure if that was a dream or not. i have a thin scar on the bend of my left thumb from sanding it accidentally in eighth grade. i have a scar on my right shin from... possibly me scratching at a bug bite??

52) Favorite food?

beef and cheese quesadillas are so good

67) Can you name all 50 states of America?

I HATE THIS QUESTION BECAUSE IT MADE ME LITERALLY HAVE TO MAKE A NUMBERED LIST AND WRITE DOWN STATES THAT I COULD REMEMBER. no, i cannot name all 50 states. i got 39 of them.

94) What are your strengths?

i'm creative, probably?

JKGJFKD no but. i'm used sometimes as a voice of reason and to give perspective? one of my friends goes along with the currents of the group and doesn't have the best understanding of where the line is, because he's very petty and so are most of his friends, but i'm less... eager to exact revenge? especially in ways that are gratuitous and not "getting even" so much as it is being cruel for the sake of it.

-

-

-

for luce:

5) What is your favorite color?

purple! any shade of it, really, though i think they'd tend toward darker and/or greyer tones of it.

41) Are you a good liar?

ehhh...

a good liar as in "good at deliberately obfuscating the truth"? not really, no. luce is an honest sort of person, generally, and they don't lie often enough for them to get good at it.

but "obfuscating the truth incidentally and for enjoyment" is something they're more adept in. like arguing ardently in favor of leeches for half an hour before giving up and admitting that they don't even like leeches in the first place. as long as it's not thought of as lying, specifically, they're fine

42) Are you a good judge of character?

ehhh...

ghjfdldjsk no but. this is. hm. i'd say that they generally are, though they have certain prejudices that may prevent them from having a truly accurate reading.

for example: garp is their grandpa, right? he loves them and wants the best for them, despite the forms that these things take, and he would have gladly taught them things. but they hate him so much that they refuse to acknowledge these things about him and view him in just about the worst light possible

but when they're not powerfully predisposed towards Hating Someone, they're a lot more likely to actually take in what kind of person it is and form opinions based off of what they can tell

52) Favorite food?

egg sandwiches. just. egg sandwiches.

bonus: their least favorite food is mint chocolate, because it is the worst kind of chocolate and you can't change my mind

85) What color are your eyes?

their eyes are dark brown!

90) What makes you angry?

systemic inequality and injustice. (they and sabo have a lot of discussions about this.)

a society that demands the blood of its citizens and cares not for the staunching of wounds but for the continued gaping of them.

garp's existence. (they remember canon marineford, and they're never going to forgive him for it. this may not be the same man entirely, but--the fact that he has that capability--no. they want him far away from them and theirs.)

shanks. (they like him but they also feel like they shouldn't, which is aggravating.)

(they also get angry at themselves when they fuck up, but they're quieter about that.)

91) Do you like your own name?

they... don't mind it? names are weird things to have and it's pretty common to feel alienated from them, but luce is an okay one, and they get used to it. they kind of wish they had a name that allowed for nicknames, though. "lu" just makes both them and luffy look over.

94) What are your strengths?

they're good at improvisation--have to be, with ASL as their friends--and able to adapt to new situations, even if they don't like the development.

they're also good at listening--to other people, to corrections. if they've done something wrong, they want to know so that they can correct it and not do it again.

communication in general is probably their biggest strength? they're the most communicative by dint of being the one trying to teach the rest of ASLsquared to communicate, and that means that ASLsquared are all pretty open with each other, to varying degrees, and are at least peripherally aware of people's boundaries, even if they can't really articulate them.

on a lighter note: they can also wrangle ASL with pretty high reliability. (it helps that they won't pester ASL to do things that they genuinely do not want to ever do.)

95) What are your weaknesses?

they don't always think before acting, which is not great and results in awkward or outright bad situations sometimes.

they also don't always know when they've fucked up--some social etiquette and norms slip past their mind or don't register at all.

they're very selfish and self-oriented, and hate that ASLsquared have to part ways. they want to stay together! they don't want to have to give any of them up! as unrealistic as they know it is, it still hurts and makes them feel like they're the only one who doesn't want to leave, which makes them want to hold onto them harder.

... on a lighter note: ASL's smiles. ace's dimples. luffy's sparkling eyes. sabo focusing on them. and don't even get me started on ASL entreating luce with "i love you"s. luce is weak.

98) Do you have any scars?

luce has to continue the monkey d. trend of having something up with the left side of their face, so they're going to get a scar. can't tell you yet what that scar is going to be, though

they're getting various arm and leg scars from 1) Bug Bites, 2) The Regular Battles With Terrifying Megafauna, and 3) normal kid dumbassery

i'll have better answers for this question later on when i’ve. actually. thought about it gjksdfjsdklf

[ee-vvaa]

A Christmas to Remember

My gift to my Secret Santa, the one and only @r6shippingdelivery​ I was overjoyed when I found out I got you and gosh, I hope you enjoyed the fic! I tried to involve all your ships and even though some are really subtle! Merry Christmas sweetness, I hope that you had an incredible time during the festive holiday! <3 HUGE thank you to my cousin who beta/proof read this fic for me, you're a real champ!

It’s Christmas time and all the operators are celebrating the holiday with a party! Glaz is finding it very hard to get close or even have one good moment with our favourite hunter, Kapkan. Good luck Glaz, you're going to need it!

Contains: Fluff/Humor | Word Count: 3.1k

Joyous Christmas songs softly resonated throughout the mess hall, the many voices of operatives chattering amongst themselves is a lively addition to the sounds he can hear. The delectable warm smell of food wafted in the air, making his mouth salivate every so often, the empty cup of vodka in his grasp long forgotten as he watched his lover – who looked handsomely adorable with a Santa hat adorned on his head – nonchalantly converse with Finka and the oldest Spetsnaz, Tachanka. Glaz sat beside the island table in the kitchen, brilliant blue eyes fixed on Kapkan who just let out a bellow of a laugh - something the hunter rarely did - caused by Tachanka who was probably telling him about the training session he’d just had with the five recruits today. The poor recruits had it rough today with how training went - being pelted by rubber bullets from all angles did not look fun and being smoked by the madman Smoke directly afterwards was even worse! Not to mention the total nightmare of being wrangled by said madman to help. He was glad, somewhat, that the five were a creative bunch, making it easier for Nomad, Ela, and himself when they were given the job to hand-make decorations. The Russian can't deny the fact that they had done a phenomenal job on the bunting and decorating the baubles with unique doodles of each operative, Six and the five included.

Kapkan gained a stunning glow from the sparkling and glittering of Christmas lights, which were gorgeous, sure, but they couldn’t compare to the striking blues of his lover's - the very eyes that he loved to stare into during their more intimate moments where their breaths mingled, scorching hot bodies gliding against one another as limbs desperately searched for things to grasp, the rise in temperature as hums of pleasure filled the room. Even thinking about it caused a dusting of pink to light his cheeks -- it only getting worse as he caught Kapkan staring back in his direction with a Cheshire smirk curled onto those lovely plump lips. Well, great. Kapkan won't be leaving him alone tonight, let alone letting him live down that he was just stupidly gawking at him from afar.

“You are blushing,” a velvety voice crooned, successfully pulling his attention away from Kapkan. Maestro stood next to him, a glass of wine clasped in his hand as he beamed optimistically. “Why are you blushing, hm?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Glaz lied, because obviously like hell he would tell someone what he’s thinking, especially if it involves Kapkan. “Probably just the vodka kicking in.”

“I don’t believe it, but just so you know,” Maestro hummed, leaning down to whisper into the younger man’s ear, “staring won’t help you with anything.” And with that, the Italian man took his leave after a good pat to the back, giving him no chance to respond.

Glaz mauled over the words briefly before hearing Tachanka’s famous bellowing laugh. Glancing over in that direction, he can see the older Russian patting Kapkan’s lower back – much too low for his liking as a matter of fact. He can feel an abrupt surge of annoyance and anger running through his system, slight sadness and confusion following suit as he's clueless as to why. He had never felt this kind of emotion before, let alone its intensity, and he absolutely detests it. Shaking his head to rid himself of the billow of emotions, the sniper leapt off the stool and made his way through the crowd of operators to get some more vodka, but was very much disappointed in finding all the bottles empty, as well as majority of the food bowls. Sighing, he placed his empty cup onto the table and left the mess hall altogether; perhaps some fresh air and a short walk around base would do him some good.

The blast of cool air felt divine against his warm skin, the breeze raking through his dark coloured hair and nipping at exposed skin like a lover. Along the pathway, Glaz took note of everything that surrounded him, from the direction the tree leaves blew to the little dew drops on the grass, the way the moon casted shadows with its lights on everything it touched, the twinkling of stars and the colours of each one differing. As he continued his walk, the sounds of crickets chirping accompanied him, and the Russian found himself at a large tree situated just by the shooting range – the very place he went to whenever he needed to clear his mind, to be alone, or to just really think. Taking a seat under its large and strong branches, watching the leaves dance in the wind and feeling the grass sway elegantly and gently against him, Glaz took a big breath of cool air and could feel himself relax as tranquillity took over.

Closing his eyes with his back pressed against the bark of the tree, he allowed himself to feel one with his surroundings and his mind wonder. Tangled limbs danced across his mind again, pleasurable and throaty moans reverberating within the bedroom, a blanket only covering so much of muscular bodies as the heated room’s temperature continued to rise, and then a husky gruff voice groaning out his name: “Timur.”

“Timur!” A shake of his shoulder brought him back to life, eyes springing open as blue met blue. “Took you long enough. Don’t sleep outside, you get sick.”

“Maxim?”

“что? (What?)”

“What are you doing here?” Glaz questioned, confusion in each word. He looked around to see if anyone else was there but was relieved to find that it was just Kapkan.

“Глупый (Stupid), I was looking for you,” Kapkan huffs, brows gathered as a frown worked its way onto his face – obviously unimpressed and displeased with the posed query. Glaz only blinked blankly, only causing his lover to sigh heavily before joining him on the ground: “You left and I didn’t know where. So I went to look for you and found you sleeping here.”

“I wasn’t sleeping but was enjoy—”

“You made an interesting face.” A smirk replaced Kapkan’s frown and the statement alone caused Glaz’s face to erupt in red as all form of composure flew straight out the window. He scrambled to find a response but it only resulted in him opening and closing his mouth like fish out of water. “You looked cute. I liked it.”

“You’re mistaken. It is not what you are thinking.”

“Oh? Then what was I thinking, hm, Timur?” Kapkan asks, scooting to press their bodies closer. Glaz didn’t move nor back down from how close Kapkan had gotten; in fact, he challenged it and leaned into his lover's touch even more until their faces were only inches apart. Their breaths and scents amalgamated together, the warmth of their bodies felt and the atmosphere surrounding them changing completely into something much more lascivious. Gradually, he could feel himself leaning forward, but just when it was about to get good, someone thought it was a spectacular idea to interrupt – does no one here know about timing!?

“Get a fucking room!” a deep yet surprisingly smooth voice vociferates from afar, followed by the sound of a slap.

“Dom, can you not?” Jäger sighs irritably, displeased by his teammate’s means of garnering attention.  

“Fuck off, Brunsmeier!” Kapkan hollered back, and obviously pissed that they’d gotten interrupted like that. Glaz couldn’t blame him. He’d just have to remember to snipe the German in their next training stimulation; that’ll remind him not to interfere.

“We’re doing Secret Santa now. Thatcher told us to look for you two,” Jäger nonchalantly told the two Russians.

“So unless you want to miss out, please, continue getting into each other's pants.”

“Dom, they will kill you and I won’t stop them.”

“I’d like to see them try,” Bandit retorted with his signature smirk before turning on his heels and making his way back to the mess hall. Jäger only sighed and followed suit, lowkey praying that the two Russians won’t kill his boyfriend even though he deserved it.

Shaking his head, Kapkan stood up and dusted off dirt from his pants before lending a hand to Glaz, who graciously took it. “Remind me to purposely set a trap for Dominic.”

“Only if you tell me where he is so I can headshot him," Glaz quiped, a small smile forming on his lips.

“Дa, sounds good,” Kapkan agreed, then adds: “We continue it later.” With that, they both followed after the Germans.

Arriving back at the mess hall, thing were not as they had expected; it was sort of in a frenzy. Food was flying across the room, landing with a gross ‘splat’ on whichever sad soul was targeted. Drinks were being sloshed against people’s faces or to the floor, causing several to slip -- thank god the vodka was spared though!

“The hell is goi–”

‘SPLAT!

Glaz was mid-sentence when a ball of mashed potatoes landed square on his chest. It fell off as soon as it made contact, and boy was he not impressed. He could hear Kapkan beside him quietly chuckling at his misfortune, and so like any loving boyfriend would do, he picked up the fallen pile of starch and smashed it onto his lover’s forehead – he fled the scene as soon as it made contact to skin.

“Oh, you’re dead now, Timur.”

Food and drink continued to fly all over the place; it was utter mayhem for the second time that day. He’d only found out recently from Ivan that it had all started when Smoke – as always – had attempted to fling red jelly at Mute, who dodged in time, and missed, which resulted in it landing on the young SAS recruits. The five obviously returned fire, pelting Smoke with whatever remaining content of food they had on their plates, thus starting this food war. Nothing can honestly ever go smoothly here; the God of Mayhem lurks nearby!

The food war only continued for another thirty minutes before a tomato-and-very-saucy-covered Ash screamed for everyone to cease fire, a disgruntled grimace clearly displayed on her face. She then ordered everyone to congregate at the Christmas tree for Secret Santa, the American woman also warning that if the rest of the night did not go smoothly, she would shove Thermite’s sweat-drenched socks down their throats – Thermite threw his hands in the air at the statement and made a disclaimer that his socks were not that gross. Pulse's face said otherwise.

Once all had gathered, one by one, each operator made guesses on who their Secret Santa may have been before their presents were handed out to them. Gleeful smiles could be seen all around, laughter erupting and a jolly vibe filling the room. Twitch shed a couple tears upon receiving her gift from Rook, Maestro grinning widely at his gift from Thatcher, and even Caveira could be seen looking delighted with her gift from Captião.

It was Kapkan’s turn, and Glaz watched him think long and hard on who his Secret Santa was, brows furrowed in concentration as he pondered on names – how adorable. He failed, miserably. The younger Russian walked up to the tree, pulled out his gift, and handed it to his lover, who looked both surprised and delighted.

“Merry Christmas, Maxim,” Glaz beams, watching Kapkan tear through the wrapping and cardboard box. He watched how Kapkan's stunning blue eyes lit up in interest at his gift and a grin sprouted on his lips – the box contained a charm version of Glaz’s OTs-03 marksman rifle and a brand new hunting knife.

“You spoiled me, Timur. Спасибо (Thank you).”

“My turn!” Bandit quickly cuts in before Glaz could say anything, though he knew that the German was very much up to something. He looked excited, too excited. The oldest GSG9 operative went to retrieve his gift from the tree and tossed it to Jäger whose face instantly paled as pure horror could be seen replacing his joyous one. “Here’s yours loser. Good luck opening it.”

And indeed Jäger needed the luck. Bandit had wrapped the fucking thing in multiple layers of wrapping, cling wrap, aluminium foil, tape – duct tape included – and bloody glue. Jäger needed all the luck he can get.

“Are you fucking kidding me Dom? Duct tape?” Jäger scowled, his hands and clothes covered in tape and wrapping. “Fucking glue, too! Are you kiddi–I hate you! You’re dead to me, Dominic fucking Brunsmeier!”

Bandit could be seen grinning a Cheshire grin from where he stood, beyond delighted at his gift to his boyfriend but probably more so by his handy work than the gift. It took the poor engineer an hour and a half to get through but he was happy with his gift nonetheless – a model plane set that one can build. Huffing, Jäger got up, yanking the remains of his present off of him, and marched straight up to the tree to snatch his gift and threw it to his boyfriend.

“Merry Christmas, asshole,” Jäger said, and if anyone was paying any attention at all, a slight sly smirk could be seen plastered on his face and oh no, this only means war between the two. Everyone watched, very intrigued, as Bandit carefully opened his present, clearly suspicious of the item before him. Seeing as nothing was wrong, he tore right into and then it happened. A blast of glitter exploded in his face when he lifted the lid; a colourful array of tiny specs sparkled and shimmered in the light as they landed everywhere. Bandit was now a human disco ball and he was very, very, peeved. “Serve you… wait, Dom, hold on. No, no. You stay-Scheiße!”

“You’re the dead one now, Marius! Dead, I fucking tell you! Dead!” Bandit howled as he made chase after his boyfriend; the screaming and pleading of Jäger was all that was left that night.

“I can’t believe Jäger is dead,” Blitz announced from the couch, one side of his cheek red and slowly going purple.

“At least it’s by the hand of his boyfriend,” Glaz added, making the whole crowd laugh.

“Alright, that’s it. Party’s over, we’ll clean up in the morning,” Ash declared, and everyone scattered. Some deciding to stay to chat some more, others going for walks, and the rest going to bed. Glaz had decided to go to bed as he felt fatigue slowly creeping up on him; Kapkan had already left when he turned around, probably having the same idea as he did.

Opening the door to his room and shutting it quietly, Glaz silently gazed at all the paintings that were lined up against one side of the wall - some were completed while others were left unfinished - beautiful arrays of colours covered that wall. He picked out pieces of diced tomatoes, smears of mash and wiped off sauces that had been thrown at him, the sticky and gooey sensation extremely unpleasant against his fingers. A shower was needed, very much needed indeed. The Russian was about to gather his things when the sound of someone storming down the hall and then abruptly bursting through his door startled and made him drop his things. Kapkan stood at the door, very much out of breath; clasped in his hand was a black velvet box with a little card, the red ribbon dangling between his fingers and palm.

“Oh, you found it quick.”

“Yes I found it. Do you mean it? Do you really mean it?”

“Дa, I mean it,” Glaz smiled lovingly and warmly. He walked up to a still breathless Kapkan, picked the box out of his lover’s hand, and got down on one knee whilst opening the lid. “Will you marry me, Maxim Basuda?”

Silence. Absolute silence before a quiet sniffle broke it; “Is that even a question?” Kapkan replied, eyes red and teary. Glaz got back to his feet, pulled the ring out, and gently took the older man’s hand to slip the silver band on. Arms wrapped around one another as they shared a meaningful embrace, a few kisses here and there as they cherished the moment tenderly.

“About time you proposed,” a booming voice spoke from the doorway, causing the two to turn. Tachanka grinned ecstatically at the two, arms crossed over his strong chest, looking relaxed while Fuze and Finka stood behind him, both looking very happy at the two, “I would have had to propose if you didn’t.”

“I highly doubt Maxim would say yes,” Glaz retorted, his grasp tightening on his now fiancée.

“Mmm, actually, I would if you took any longer.” The younger of the bunch stared in absolute disbelief at the response. “It was a joke. Of course I wouldn’t.”

Another booming laugh erupts from Tachanka before he took his leave, not before congratulating the two again. Fuze followed suit while Finka stayed to congratulate the couple, making them promise to look after one another and that no matter how tough things may get, to solve the problem together, and to endlessly love each other.

“I need a shower, I feel disgusting,” Glaz announced after Finka left. He could see a cheeky and cunning smile sprouting on Kapkan’s lips. An eyebrow arched in curiosity: “What are you thinking? What are you up to?”

“Well, I was thinking we celebrate by continuing from where we last left off and then shower,” The hunter answers, wrapping an arm around the sniper again. The other hand was busy travelling down Glaz's back and resting on his rear; a gentle squeeze was all he needed.

“I like that idea.”

“Хорошо (Good). I was hoping you would.” His lover grins before capturing his lips for a passionate kiss that got heated real quick – all their love, desires, and every possible emotion poured into it. Tongues wrestling for dominance, it glides and danced, exploring and claiming the cavern of the other. Hands busy with grabbing muscles before happily resting on the neck to deepen the kiss further, Glaz could feel himself heating up but didn't mind as he was enjoying the moment. This had got to be the best Christmas Glaz had ever had in years, and next year will just be better with Kapkan now by his side as his fiancée.

Their kiss was cut short, once again, by a voice shrieking aloud throughout the hall of base: “Dom, no! We’re even! Back off you sparkling Twlight vampire!”

“Did you just refer to me as a vampire from fucking Twlight?”

“Scheiße. Dom- No! Have mercy!” Another shrill scream before silence. Jäger's or Bandit's voice never heard again that night, and no one wanted to know what happened.

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

This is me officially requesting a follow up to “Pretty in Those Beads” something achingly fluffy and sinfully smutty, if you feel so inclined 😜 maybe get creative with the beads?? Go where your muse takes you darling!

“achingly fluffy and sinfully smutty” + “beads” = GOT IT 😍

Part I: “Pretty in those Beads” (fluffy)

Part II: SMUTTY

“Mmm,” you moaned as your body fought with your mind to wake up and chase the smoky-rich scent of coffee, and, oh was that sausage? Yes.

 Pancakes, too.

 Coffee, sausage, and pancakes: Merriell “Snafu” Shelton’s surefire cure for a hangover. And after last night, you knew he needed it.

 Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you fished around the closet for one of Merriell’s flannel shirts to wear over your short nightgown. After donning it, you went into the bathroom to wash your face, brush your teeth, and fix your hair, knowing that by the time you got to the kitchen, breakfast would be nearly ready.

 When you shuffled out to the kitchen, you stifled a laugh as you looked at the pile of assorted beads on the coffee table, some of them still strewn on the floor in your haste to remove them before Merriell lost his battle with the obscene amount of whiskey he had drank.

 Despite his overindulgence, you knew he’d be in a good mood because he loved seeing his friends. You were due for lunch at their hotel at 1:00, so it didn’t surprise you that Merriell was up so early, trying to cook away what was left of his hangover.

 “Mornin’ darlin,” Mer murmured over his bare shoulder as he pulled your light blue, floral patterned mug from the cupboard.

 As he sauntered over, your eyes ran over his naked torso and you watched as his arm flexed as he poured your coffee. Judging by the amount left in the pot, he had already downed at least three cups.

 “You’re up awful early.”

 “Neva slept.”

 “You serious?”

 “As a heart attack,” he smirked.

 He turned his back to you and scooped up the plate of pancakes and the plate of sausages from the counter, depositing them onto the kitchen table. Mer rustled around in the fridge to grab condiments, then plopped down beside you.

 “How’s ya memory?” you ask, smiling slightly as you thought about Mer’s naked body on display for his friends and more than a few Mardi Gras stragglers as they stumbled down the walk in front of your house.

 Merriell folded up a pancake and took a huge bite, answering as he chewed.

 “Well ‘nuff.”

 “Oh, yeah? And the last thing ya remember is . . .”

 He swallowed, “Don’t think ya wanna hear when ya ‘bout to eat.”

 You nodded as you poured syrup over your breakfast, “So ya remember earnin’ all of those beads, huh?”

 Merriell’s still-bleary eyes met yours and he smiled, like the cat that ate the canary.

 “I do.”

 You giggled, and breakfast passed quickly as you ate together, each of you discussing the previous night’s adventures with your respective friends.

 As you filled the sink with soapy water, you said, “Remember, we have to leave the house around 12:30 to make it through the morning’s crowd.”

 A warm, strong body pressed into your back as Merriell slid your plates into the warm water. He stayed where he was, pushing you even tighter against the sink as he melted into you, his arms folding over you just above your middle.

 “Yes?” you questioned with a smile on your lips.

 “Ya real pretty in the mornin.”

 “Oh yeah?”

 “Mmm,” he confirmed, nuzzling your neck.

 “Bet ya say that to all the girls who wrangle ya naked ass inside so ya avoid arrest.”

 “Mm-mmm,” Mer disagreed as his lips pressed into your pulse point.

 “Should I even bother gettin’ my hands soapy?”

 Merriell ground his hard cock into your ass in answer, and you sighed, leaning back onto his shoulder so he could pull the collar back on his flannel and kiss more of your neck.

 You gave up on the dishes, and let him run his hands over your body as he kissed any part of you he could reach. When he finally dipped one hand beneath the elastic of your panties, you moaned and brought your hand up to cup the back of his head.

 Merriell played with your pussy, spreading your arousal and teasing your clit with too-light touches until you wiggled away and turned around in his arms, needing the heat of his tongue in your mouth.

 When you pulled him by his hips, his hands were already twisting into your hair to tilt your head for the kiss you craved. Your tongues worked together in a familiar pattern, the taste of coffee and syrup, sweet and bitter, balancing themselves out the longer you kissed.

 “Want you,” you breathed, barely losing contact with his mouth.

 Mer muttered something you didn’t catch, probably in French, and he stepped away to pull you toward the living room. He hissed as he stepped on a strand of beads, and you looked down at them, a sparkle of interest lighting up your eyes.

 He raised his eyebrows in response and you began to loop the beads around his neck until he stopped you from looping the last few strands.

 “Wanna make it a lil more interestin?”

 “Uh huuuh,” you answered.

 “Undress,” he demanded as he reached for the clasp on his old jeans. You followed and quickly shed his flannel, your nightgown, and your underwear.

 Mer stood a little bit back from the sofa and instructed, “Face down—hands behind ya back.”

 You laid down and settled with your cheek pressed against the couch and your ass in the air as your hands rested on your lower back. Merriell looped two strings of beads over your wrists, fashioning a sort of lasso to use to bind your hands.

 “Okay?” he asked, giving it a tug.

 “Yes.”

 Merriell nudged your knees a little farther apart as he settled behind you, kneeling as he held onto the beads with one hand while he fingered your pussy with the other.

 Your lips were so plump and on such tempting display for him in this position that while he still clasped your bound wrists, he leaned in to taste you, sucking on your outer lips before dipping his tongue deep into your folds, eventually searching out your clit.

 “So fuckin’ pretty,” he moaned when he came up for air, and you retorted, “Like you in your beads.”

 As Merriell straightened up, you could hear the tinkling of the beads as they moved around his neck. He chuckled and lightly pinched at your pussy, pursing your outer lips before releasing them and pushing a finger inside of you.

 You grunted as you strained against the beads binding you, wanting to clutch onto the arm of the couch as he fingered you.

 “Nothin’ near pretty as dis,” he said and you could hear the transfixation he had on his finger as it slid in and out of your center, coated in wetness.  

 “But prettiest if that were ya cock.”

 Mer yanked on the beads and a growl let loose from his chest as he replaced his finger with his dick in one smooth motion, sliding into you and making you growl in return.

“Fuck me, Mer. Fuck me.”  

 Merriell obliged by setting a brutal pace from the onset, his hips slapping into yours as he used your bound arms for leverage, pulling on the beads again and again as he thrust.

 All you could do in this position was take it—take every inch of his cock, and the thought of being at his mercy made your clit throb.

 “Mer,” you moaned, and without another breath, he reached between your legs with his free hand and rubbed until you came.

 As your pussy clenched around his cock, Merriell doubled his efforts to fuck you straight through the sofa, the noise of the beads around his neck almost sounding like a chorus of castanets as he fucked you.

 “So good baby. Almost there,” he panted, pulling on your wrists and yanking so you were now nearly upright.

 “Fuck, yes, fucking take my co—” and with that thrust, the beads broke, clattering into oblivion as they skittered across the sofa, the table, and the floor as Mer caught you around the waist to prevent you from faceplanting into the sofa as he buried himself deep and came, his heat filling you up and satisfying you in a way nothing else on earth could.

 The beads around his neck shivered as he pulled out and collapsed on the couch. You flopped back on your haunches and caught your breath, surveying the scattered beads that you could be sure to find as little surprises for the next year or more.

 You turned around and sat on your bum, your calves stretching over Mer’s naked thighs.

 He didn’t even lift his head from the back of the couch, and you watched the rise and fall of his chest underneath his mountain of beads.

 “You really do look pretty in those beads.”

 Merriell grinned and fingered a set. “Think we can break em all?”

[aristocratlegacy]

Chapter Sixty-Five: Purge Scouts Retreat

Lucky: “Hey, kids! What’re you guys up to?”

“Eh”

“Nothin”

“Who’s askin?”

Lucky: “Why don’t you kids go outside! Call one of your cousins, you can go and play!”

“Eh”

“No thanks”

“Who?”

Lucky: “This used to be an extended legacy- y’know? You kids barely even know your cousins! Spares are the supporting cast and you only really know Three.”

Chloe:“Vincent”

Lucky: “What?”

Chloe: “The purple kid on our show. Your nephew. Uncle Dusty’s son. His name is Vincent, not Three.”

Lucky: “Oh. Huh. Well, then maybe I’m at fault too! You know what, we should get back to our roots a little.”

Vivien: “Oooh, are we going to get even richer?”

Lucky: “No! I mean our roots. Real roots! Tree roots!”

Pierce: “What...are you saying?”

Lucky: “When I was a kid I was in Purge Scouts with my siblings, and I think it’s high time we get you and some of your cousins together and go on a camping trip!”

Chloe: “....What.”

Vivien: “Literally why?”

Pierce: “I’m busy that day.”

Lucky: “Oh come on guys, it’ll be fun! Won’t it Courtney?”

Courtney: “Camping? You know I can’t go camping, hon, I’m allergic to all bugs. You remember”

Lucky: “How are you a veterinarian? Fine! I’ll be the Scout leader, you stay here and look after the business that we still run, and I will take these kids camping!”

Pierce: “Don’t do this.”

Chloe: “This is a spectacularly bad idea.”

Vivien: “Please think about what you’re saying.”

Lucky: “Yay! Camping trip!”

Lucky: “Alright, Scouts- huddle up!”

Lucky: “Even though we’re all related, let’s have a little refresher on names and relations just in case one person here doesn’t know and thinks it’s been too long to ask.”

Vivien: “Why is she staring at me?”

Lucky: “Alright, this is Lacy and Winston, my big sister Taffy’s kids Lacy is a veteran purge scout and she’s gonna be my second in command out here in the woods, isn’t that right, kiddo?”

Lacy: “Sure is! Instead of a straight intro why don’t we play some getting to know you games?”

Lucky: “Alright, I like that enthusiasm, but let’s hold out on that for as long as humanly possible.”

Lucky: “You all know my kids, Pierce, Chloe, and Vivien.”

Lacy: “What did you kids do to your uniforms?”

Chloe: “Improved them.”

Vivien: “I thought that was obvious.”

Pierce: “We wouldn’t be caught dead in those duds. Lucky: “Nice! I love that creativity!”

Lacy: “Oh, Aunt Lucky, we actually strive to keep our uniforms, well, uniform, and-”

Lucky: “Ugly? Sorry, sweetie, the opportunity was right there. Anyways, moving on. This is Vincent, who’s name I do know.”

Vincent: “So I’m not Three anymore? Nice.”

Lucky: “I was encouraging method acting, don’t worry about it. And don’t tell your dad.”

Lucky: “Last but not least, this is Houston, your Uncle Milo’s stepson.”

Houston: “Hi guys! I’m excited to get to know you guys on this trip!”

Vivien: “Like...I guess.”

Lucky: “So, who wants to go into the woods?”

Lacy: “Oh, um, Aunt Lucky- it’s actually really dark, and the ranger is coming to give us a safety demonstration, we should probably wait until tomorrow to start hiking.”

Lucky: “Safety demonstration? Why? I already know everything I need to know about the woods, I have this swiss army knife.”

Lacy: “Um, right, I’m a certified Scout Big Sister and I just thought-”

Lucky: “Look, honey, I really appreciate your help with wrangling all these kids, but I’m an adult. I’m in charge. Don’t worry about it.”

Lacy: “Actually Mrs. Aristocrat I really think we should-”

Lucky: “Woohoo! Camping! Yeah!”

Chloe: “Lacy’s right, we shouldn’t go out there right now. Can’t we just go to bed?”

Lucky: “Camping! Follow me, scouts!”

Lucky: “So, as you can see here, this is a tree, and this is also a tree….this is a tree too.”

Pierce: “Once again, our mom declares herself the master of a new profession without any training whatsoever.”

Chloe: “I really hope this phase runs its course before this hike is over so that we can go home.”

Vivien: “We could probably work to speed that up, if we try.”

Chloe: “Explain?”

Vivien: “Scare her out of the woods.”

Pierce: “What?”

Vivien: “It’s the middle of the night, we’ve been out here for like an hour- just one of us starts making spooky noises and she’ll turn right around.”

Chloe: “I don’t think she gets spooked much anymore since she died.”

Pierce: “Yeah, when you go to bed she stays up and watches slasher movies. I once hid behind the couch and it scared the shit out of me, but she was laughing the whole time.”

Vivien: “She lets you stay up late?”

Pierce: “Not the point. The point is that once you see your mom giggle at a dude getting double-decapitated and then going ‘pfft. As if you could ever be scarier than the departure from this mortal coil. Fuckin’ coward’, you know for a fact that she could probably wander around the woods at night without getting spooked.”

Vivien: “Yeah…..but have you ever really tried?”

Chloe: “She has a point.”

Pierce: “Does she, though?”

Chloe: “I’m tired and going through a phase. Let’s really let her have it.”

Pierce: “Alright, then. Do we recruit the others?”

Vivien: “Winston is a snitch if I’ve ever seen one, and I definitely don’t trust his sister. Vincent would probably be on our side, and the jurys still out on this Houston character.”

Lucky: “Hey, Lacy,”

Lacy: “Yeah, Aunt Lucky?”

Lucky: “You’ve been a Purge Scout for like 5 years right?”

Lacy: “Yeah.”

Lucky: “Cool, then you’ll know how to get us out of the woods, right?”

Lacy: “What? You haven’t been keeping track of where we are?”

Lucky: “Um...no? I figured, y’know, the birds would guide me.”

Lacy: “Um, what...exactly qualified you to lead this trip?”

Lucky: “I paid for the uniforms. Ok. You take the lead, I’m gonna go distract the kids.”

Lacy: “O-okay”

Lucky: “Aright, Kiddos! We’re gonna play a game called ‘who can find the biggest rock!”

Chloe: “Ew! I’m not touching those! They were on the ground!”

Pierce: “Mooooom- can’t we just go home?”

Vincent: “Yeah, Aunt Lucky, we’re tired!”

Houston: “It’s scary out here!”

Lucky: “We can leave when you find the biggest rock in the forest! Ready, set-”

Scouts: “NO!”

Lucky: “Rocks, keep on looking. Just grab as many as you can.”

Lucky: “Lacy- any closer to finding our way home?”

Lacy: “Maybe? It’s too dark to really tell, maybe we should just set up camp here and wait until morning.”

Lucky: “Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve only been hiking for like an hour, we can’t be that far from the house.”

Vivien: “She’s not budging on her own, guys. I think it’s time to try my plan. Pierce, tell me all about that scary movie you watched together.”

Vivien: “Hey mom! How are you?”

Lucky: “Great, sweetie! So great!”

Vivien: “Did you hear that?”

Lucky: “Hear what?”

Vivien: “It sounded like….a chainsaw?”

Pierce: “I hear it too!”

Chloe: “We’re all gonna die!”

Lucky: “Ahhh! Lacy- how do we get out of here? How do we get out of here?”

Lacy: “Aunt Lucky- you need to calm down.”

Lucky: “Everybody- Run! Follow me!”

Lacy: “Stick together don’t run!”

-----

Chloe:Ok, forreal though you guys heard that loud thump, right?

Pierce: “Yeah, I heard it too.”

Lucky: “Hey guys! Good news- I found the cabin! Bad news, I have a concussion. Beep! Beep! Beep! Follow my voice and you can make it through the forest!”

Lucky: “So...uh...that was…”

Vivien: “Yup.”

Lacy: “Sure was.”

Chloe: “Oh yeah.”

Pierce: “Does this mean we can go home?”

Lucky: “Maybe. Everybody, go to bed, let’s recap in the morning.”

Vivien: “Yikes.”

Chloe: “Yeah.”

Vivien: “I mean, it was enough- right? She’ll definitely take us home tomorrow and never make us go camping again, right?”

Chloe: “Oh yeah. Mom gives up on everything. I saw her get bored making breakfast the other day, and the just turned the oven off, ate a granola bar, and walked away.”

Vivien: “So...you don’t think I should go hide under her bed and make ghost noises all night?”

Chloe: “Is that you doing that at night all the time?”

Vivien: “Not always!”

Chloe: “Unbelievable.”

Vincent: “Why can’t we just go hoooome?”

Pierce: “She’ll take us home before breakfast, and we’ll get Dunkin on the way, I promise you.”

Lacy: “So these main legacy folks sure are…”

Winston: “A whole lot to deal with?”

Lacy: “I was gonna say extra, a word I have never used or felt the need to say before today.”

Winston: “So extra.”

Lucky: “Morning kids! Breakfast!”

Kids: “Mornin…”

Lucky: “So last nights nature hike got a little out of hand. It was a little longer than I anticipated. But today it’s light out and we’re gonna go for a walk and look at some plants?”

Chloe: “What?”

Pierce: “We’re not going home?”

Vincent: “But it’s raining.”

Lucky: “And you all have raincoats!! Let’s go campers!”

Vivien: “I told you, Chloe. I told you I should’ve hid under her bed.”

Chloe: “You were right.”

Lucky: “See, kids!? It’s not so bad!”

Lacy: “It’s thunder and lightning, I don’t know if it’s safe…”

Lucky: “Lighten up kiddo! Get it? We’re going fishing!”

Lacy: “That’s definitely not safe.”

Vincent: “What if we just…”

Pierce: “Would she notice?”

Vincent: “We could try.”

Lucky: “See, kids? Fishing is fun!”

Vivien: “No. It isn’t.”

Lacy: “Everybody is wearing rubber boots right?”

…………………….

Chloe: “Can we go home now?”

Lucky: “Not until we catch something!”

………

Vivien: “Fishing straight up sucks.”

Vivien: “I caught something!”

Lucky: “Fucking finally, uh, I mean...let’s go make a campfire!”

Chloe: “What?!”

Lucky: “S’mores and roasted fish! Yay!”

Peirce: “How…”

Winston: “I don’t think you can cook a fish that small.”

Chloe: “Wet s’mores. Yay.”

Lacy: “Aunt Lucky, can we please go back to the cabin?”

Lucky: “Fine. Fine! I try to make this whole thing fun, even though we got lost-”

Vivien: “We were lost?”

Lucky: “And even though it rained- all you guys wanted to do was stay inside and play on your phones!”

Vivien: “You confiscated our phones when we got here!”

Lucky: “But who cares, because nature just isn’t fun. We know that now. So c’mon, let’s go back to the camp.”

Vivien: “Finally!”

Peirce: “Mom, wait.”

Chloe: “What the hell are you doing dude.”

Peirce: “It is fun let’s just… all have one wet s’more before we go in. Since mom worked so hard?”

Lucky: “Thank you, Peirce.”

Peirce: “I love you, mom.”

Chloe: “I didn’t realize how cold I was until we were inside by the fire.”

Vincent: “If you think about it, we could’ve just had s’mores inside.”

Lacy: “That’s a fire hazard.”

Lucky: “Vincent, you are so clever, let’s do that right now!”

Lacy: “No!”

Lucky: “Right. Scouts, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry I got a little overzealous today.. It was a real Aristokids situation, wasn’t it?”

Chloe: “Definitely.”

Lucky: “Well, we can go home tomorrow, and I think that we, at the very least, had quite an adventure.”

Vivien: “That we will never go on again.”

Lucky: “Absolutely not! Cheers!”

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

That’s all for now! Thanks for reading- and if you liked it, leave a comment!!!

Also- if anybody wants me to upload the custom scout uniforms I made I can do that, I just want to make sure that somebody actually wants it before I do lol

[global-news-station]

LONDON/BRUSSELS: The chances of Britain leaving the European Union without a trade deal have risen sharply as negotiations have been threatened by London’s insistence that it has full autonomy over its state aid plans, negotiators and diplomats said.

The United Kingdom left the EU on Jan. 31, turning its back after 47 years on the post-World War Two project that sought to build the ruined nations of Europe into a global power.

The British exit followed more than three years of wrangling over an exit deal since the 2016 referendum that sent shockwaves through global financial markets. Since Brexit, talks on a new trade deal have so far made little headway.

But fears in London, Brussels and other European capitals are mounting that a British exit without a trade deal could sow yet more economic chaos amid the turmoil of the coronavirus crisis which has hammered European economies.

“The chances for a deal, or a no-deal, are 50/50,” said one senior EU diplomat.

“There has been absolutely no movement from the British side in the talks. It this approach doesn’t change quickly, we won’t be able to negotiate a deal in time.”

As investment banks, diplomats and even Downing Street officials try to come up with a broad sense of how likely a no-trade deal Brexit could be, many see a crunch looming unless something gives.

Failure to reach a trade deal could hammer financial markets as nearly a trillion dollars in trade, from car parts and medicines to lamb and fish, would be thrown into turmoil.

“Sooner or later, the UK should clarify what they want. It’s not possible to leave the European club and at the same time keep all the benefits,” European Council President Charles Michel told reporters.

“We have no certainty that we’ll reach a deal. I hope it will be possible – but not at all cost …”

STATE AID

Prime Minister Boris Johnson’s office said the EU needed to show more realism in the talks.

“Our goal remains to reach an agreement, and we’ll continue to work hard to do that, but we’ve been clear there is lots of work still to be done. We need more realism from the EU, and them to show they understand the fundamentals of our position as an independent country,” Johnson’s spokesman said.

The current sticking point is state aid.

The bloc’s Brexit negotiator Michel Barnier went to London on Tuesday to tell his UK counterpart, David Frost, that Britain must move on state aid, or there will not be an agreement, according to EU diplomats.

Afterwards, Barnier said London had not shown enough flexibility and creativity on fair competition, fisheries and solving disputes in order to seal a deal on new trade ties by a “strict deadline” of end-October.

“The feedback after Barnier’s talks with Frost in London on Sunday was negative, there has been no breakthrough,” said a second European diplomat.

“The Commission now worries the next negotiating round will end up with nothing,” the diplomat said. “If the UK doesn’t move a bit on the state aid thing, we have a problem.”

Britain does not want to allow Brussels authority over its state aid rules, stoking one of the bloc’s greatest fears: that it shall one day face strong competition from an economy just outside its borders.

Senior officials in British Prime Minister Boris Johnson’s office see only a 30%-40% chance that there will be a Brexit trade agreement due to the impasse, the Times reported.

Asked about the report, Johnson’s spokesman said: “I’m not going to get drawn into percentages.

The post No-trade deal Brexit fears rise appeared first on ARY NEWS.

https://ift.tt/2oRhW6i

[georgeycowell]

8 Budget-Friendly Staycation Ideas for Families

Disneyland, the beach, camping … just a few of the many places your kids would nominate as a vacation destination this summer. But staying home?

B-O-R-I-N-G.

So how do you sell a staycation to your little ones? And not spend a ton of money? Fill it with fun and adventure.

Look for activities that are simple to pull together and entertaining for all ages - bonus points for those with educational benefits.

Check out these nine kid- and budget-friendly ideas - and a few tips from a frugal mom - that will make your summer staycation just as lively and memorable as any trip.

Camp out in your backyard

Pitch a tent, grab the camp chairs and roll out those sleeping bags. It’s time to go camping - in your backyard!

Study the local flora and fauna, practice wilderness skills, roast marshmallows over a fire pit, tell scary stories and spot constellations in the night sky.

Get your chef on

Let your little chefs put their skills to the test with a “Top Chef” competition. Introduce a mystery ingredient, work in teams and see what you can come up with.

If competition isn’t your style, simply head to the farmer’s market or grocery store and pick out a unique ingredient and see what your family can come up with to put in a dish.

Have a sweet tooth? Throw a bake-off and create your favorite cookies, cupcakes or cake. Share the snacks with friends and neighbors too.

Family carnival

Create your very own town fair, and bring your friends and family members in on the fun. Serve up classic carnival food like corn dogs, french fries, funnel cake and cotton candy.

Set up DIY games like ring toss, cake walk, corn hole, balloon darts, a fishing hole and more.

Finish off the night with an outdoor movie by stringing up a sheet and using a projector.

Learn something new

Take an online course to learn a new skill or craft, or figure out how to play an outdoor game like bocce ball or croquet. Practice a different language with books from the library, or hit the zoo to learn about a new animal.

Build a fort

Wrangle all the cardboard boxes, blankets, chairs and pillows you can find and build the ultimate playhouse or fort.

Construct tunnels with boxes (bonus if you can snag a large refrigerator box), create rooms with blankets and chairs, and arm your fortress by building a pillow moat. Play castle or just snuggle up in your cozy den and watch a movie - don’t forget the popcorn.

Keep the fun going into the night: Add twinkle lights and have a sleepover in your new castle.

Cool down with water play

Hot summer day? Cool down by making your own backyard into a mini water park.

Break out the sprinkler and burn off some energy by splashing around. Fill the kiddie pool and hop in with your little ones, or wage a water balloon or squirt gun fight for an afternoon that’s guaranteed to cool you off and make you feel like a kid again.

Live in an apartment or don’t have the water gear? Head to your local splash pad or community pool. To save money, look for free or discount promotions at the pool or water park.

Find your inner artist

Arts and crafts are a great way to get those creative juices flowing, make fun memories and create cool pieces to treasure for years to come.

Tie-dye some plain T-shirts, create your own modeling clay using flour and salt, make beaded bracelets, or try your hand at loom weaving.

Keep things even simpler by drawing with some sidewalk chalk, building a birdhouse out of Popsicle sticks, or simply getting messy with some finger paint.

Plan a treasure or scavenger hunt

Set up a string of clues for your kids to follow that lead them all around the house, yard and even the neighborhood. Make up your own clues or check online for clever rhymes or location ideas.

End the hunt with a fun prize, which can be anything from a chest full of faux gold coins, a long-desired toy or trinket, or a plate of fresh cookies or cupcakes. Add a dash of extra fun by dressing up as pirates or explorers.

Whether you have a lot of free time or a little, a chunk of change to spend or a limited budget, there are plenty of fun staycation ideas to make your summer special.

Related:

Prepare for the Ultimate Staycation

With This DIY Sporting Goods Catch-All, Game Day Is No Sweat

Summer Smackdown: Which Home Is Your Favorite?

Originally published May 2016.

from Home https://www.zillow.com/blog/budget-staycation-ideas-family-200404/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

[danielgreen01]

8 Budget-Friendly Staycation Ideas for Families

Disneyland, the beach, camping … just a few of the many places your kids would nominate as a vacation destination this summer. But staying home?

B-O-R-I-N-G.

So how do you sell a staycation to your little ones? And not spend a ton of money? Fill it with fun and adventure.

Look for activities that are simple to pull together and entertaining for all ages - bonus points for those with educational benefits.

Check out these nine kid- and budget-friendly ideas - and a few tips from a frugal mom - that will make your summer staycation just as lively and memorable as any trip.

Camp out in your backyard

Pitch a tent, grab the camp chairs and roll out those sleeping bags. It’s time to go camping - in your backyard!

Study the local flora and fauna, practice wilderness skills, roast marshmallows over a fire pit, tell scary stories and spot constellations in the night sky.

Get your chef on

Let your little chefs put their skills to the test with a “Top Chef” competition. Introduce a mystery ingredient, work in teams and see what you can come up with.

If competition isn’t your style, simply head to the farmer’s market or grocery store and pick out a unique ingredient and see what your family can come up with to put in a dish.

Have a sweet tooth? Throw a bake-off and create your favorite cookies, cupcakes or cake. Share the snacks with friends and neighbors too.

Family carnival

Create your very own town fair, and bring your friends and family members in on the fun. Serve up classic carnival food like corn dogs, french fries, funnel cake and cotton candy.

Set up DIY games like ring toss, cake walk, corn hole, balloon darts, a fishing hole and more.

Finish off the night with an outdoor movie by stringing up a sheet and using a projector.

Learn something new

Take an online course to learn a new skill or craft, or figure out how to play an outdoor game like bocce ball or croquet. Practice a different language with books from the library, or hit the zoo to learn about a new animal.

Build a fort

Wrangle all the cardboard boxes, blankets, chairs and pillows you can find and build the ultimate playhouse or fort.

Construct tunnels with boxes (bonus if you can snag a large refrigerator box), create rooms with blankets and chairs, and arm your fortress by building a pillow moat. Play castle or just snuggle up in your cozy den and watch a movie - don’t forget the popcorn.

Keep the fun going into the night: Add twinkle lights and have a sleepover in your new castle.

Cool down with water play

Hot summer day? Cool down by making your own backyard into a mini water park.

Break out the sprinkler and burn off some energy by splashing around. Fill the kiddie pool and hop in with your little ones, or wage a water balloon or squirt gun fight for an afternoon that’s guaranteed to cool you off and make you feel like a kid again.

Live in an apartment or don’t have the water gear? Head to your local splash pad or community pool. To save money, look for free or discount promotions at the pool or water park.

Find your inner artist

Arts and crafts are a great way to get those creative juices flowing, make fun memories and create cool pieces to treasure for years to come.

Tie-dye some plain T-shirts, create your own modeling clay using flour and salt, make beaded bracelets, or try your hand at loom weaving.

Keep things even simpler by drawing with some sidewalk chalk, building a birdhouse out of Popsicle sticks, or simply getting messy with some finger paint.

Plan a treasure or scavenger hunt

Set up a string of clues for your kids to follow that lead them all around the house, yard and even the neighborhood. Make up your own clues or check online for clever rhymes or location ideas.

End the hunt with a fun prize, which can be anything from a chest full of faux gold coins, a long-desired toy or trinket, or a plate of fresh cookies or cupcakes. Add a dash of extra fun by dressing up as pirates or explorers.

Whether you have a lot of free time or a little, a chunk of change to spend or a limited budget, there are plenty of fun staycation ideas to make your summer special.

Related:

Prepare for the Ultimate Staycation

With This DIY Sporting Goods Catch-All, Game Day Is No Sweat

Summer Smackdown: Which Home Is Your Favorite?

from Zillow Porchlight https://ift.tt/2trTVE2 via IFTTT