#I’ve tried to lean into it with the butch push but it’s feeling more and more like that’s not a safe way to present anymore

[border-collie]

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[the-mandalorian-clone-lover]

Aces in Spaces Chapter 26 pt. 1

Ok! I’ve actually decided to break the finale into three parts because its nearly 10 pages long on its own (I know I know) but I promise I’ll drop all three today!!

Warnings for excessive fluffiness, more fluff, and tooth rotting fluff

Tags: @rentskenobi @sunshinepascal @maybege @obaby-wan @princessxkenobi​ @agent-450​ 

Masterlist

They’re walking in a park, Butcher is a few steps behind, and its fall and it’s a little chilly and its everything about the season that Erica loves. She’s wearing that pair of black jeans she has that are just the right stretch; that she bought at some store four years ago that are just too comfy to let go of, a cream cable knit sweater that her mother gave her in high school and a camo print jacket that is reminiscent of a military blouse. Her combat boots from her marathon days are the finishing touch and she relishes in the utilitarian look she’s managed to cultivate. She’s added a beanie even though it isn’t quite that cold yet, but she’d wrap herself in the season if she could and Roman knows that by now so there’s no sense being ashamed. She’d managed to talk him out of his suit and he’s looking every bit a dreamboat in his dark wash jeans, a grey button down (that had been their compromise) and a black leather jacket that’s lined with wool (she’s certain Butch bought it, there’s no other way she hasn’t seen him wear it before).

They’re holding hands and every now and then Roman swings them with a little more vigor and it only takes about three random swings before Erica’s giggles turn into open laughter and his smile is getting bigger with every step. They’re practically newlyweds, she reminds herself. The service, though it was more of a random act of the stars aligning that got them married, (well that and Butch having the foresight to become an ordained minister) was only a month or so ago now, and for all everyone talked to her about coming out of the honeymoon phase, nothing has changed. His voice, and she can hear his smile in it, slips into the calm around them.

“I was thinking, we could take your jeans to the lovely woman who makes my suits. Knowing all she does, she could probably make you an identical pair with little fuss.”

Erica’s blushing again, she knows she is, and she’s about to answer before he speaks again.

“I don’t think you’d want her to break them in for you—but acquiring them is quite easy.”

The woman in question, well, she’s at least a foot shorter than Erica and probably a bit heavier, so the image he presents is quite humorous. Erica hides a giggle behind her free hand before looking to his face again.

“You needn’t love, I can attach myself to a new pair, I just haven’t worked myself up to it yet.”

“Exactly why you should let me, you already love these, and I love you in them.” His eyes leave the tree line, a painting of oranges, yellows, and brilliant reds, to find hers with a wink and smile as he finishes. She knows what he means, he’s always had a soft spot for her long legs and since they’re also her favorite part of herself she always indulges him.

“Very well, star shine, I’ll tag along on your next trip”

His eyebrows raise a little at this despite the fact her eyes have returned to the scenery, “that’s a new one.”

“Well, I’ve called you ‘husband’ so much lately I thought you might want me to mix it up.”

He stops walking and tugs her hand until she presses against him and threads her other hand with his as well, staring deeply into his eyes.

“If you never call me anything else, I’ll still never manage to grow tired of hearing it.” He sounds incredibly fond, a little lovestruck even but he doesn’t care, he loves her, always has, always will. No title will change it, but it does make his heart flutter a bit when she says it all the same.

She’s smiling now, dimples forming and eyes crinkling before she says “Marry me. Marry me again. Over and over and over again!” Each sentence is broken up by a giant grin and by the time she starts saying ‘over and over’ Roman’s thrown his arms around her waist and buried his face in her neck to pick her up and spin her around while she laughs. He sets her down with a sigh, not loosening his grip in the slightest. They’re still holding each other close, Roman waiting for the slight dizziness to pass, when she starts raking her fingers through his hair. Butcher clearing his throat is what eventually breaks the moment. Sending it scattering away like the leaves that lay around them.

“While I’m flattered I did so well the first time, Hannah really will be upset to be left out a second time. Regardless of circumstances.” He manages to sound genuinely annoyed with them but when they turn to him, he’s already smiling, shoulders shaking from the effort not to laugh aloud. A beat passes before he gives up.

They’re all three laughing now, Erica taking the time to watch Roman as he does, his mouth open, loud laugh seeming to resonate through the air, wrapping her in warmth that she wouldn’t trade for the world. She pauses to think before voicing her thoughts:

“Roman, why not?”

He’s panting a bit from how hard he’s been laughing and re-tangles their fingers as he looks at her brightly “Why not what lover?”.

“Why not get married again? We could do it here, this afternoon?” Her eyes are on the far tree line and the field that’s before it “I’d always wanted a fall wedding, a long sleeved dress, Hannah could be my bridesmaid—” her brow furrows as she looks back to Roman “Would we need two witnesses this time? If it’s a renewal?”

Roman’s enraptured now, looking at her in wonder as a small “you did?” slips past his lips. “We never, we never talked about the details, just the action.” The whole sentence is barely above a whisper, but he knows she hears it. He’s the one who needs to hear her answer, desperate for confirmation, leaning into her space, hopeful gaze still locked with hers.

She’s bashful now, eyes falling to the ground to study his shoes. “Well, not till the last year or so, and certainly not before I met you.”

Roman reaches out to gently hold onto her elbows then, gradually moving up to her biceps, bringing himself closer, his eyes searching for hers. “But you thought about it?” he says it desperately. Knowing Butchers definitely close enough to hear their conversation but too absorbed in it to care.

Her eyes have found his chest, not quite brave enough for eye contact yet. “I did. It was always scary before, but,” then her eyes find his and they’re radiating confidence “not with you, you made it sound wonderful. Like I was being set free instead of chaining myself to someone to be used.” She finishes with a slight frown and he wants nothing more than to kiss the lines off her forehead, kiss the bad memories right out of her mind.

He knows how she felt about marriage before, she’d told him, how she feared if she married a man then she’d have no escape if he didn’t respect her asexuality, no way out. She’d thought of it as a death sentence more than a joining of two people. She’d confided in him after a while that were it a small ceremony (preferably a justice of the peace, over in a moment) she might be able to come around to the idea, but that a large wedding still made her skittish and probably always would. To know he’d taken all that away, shown her kindness to the extent that she believed in love again, even to the point that she’d go through with an actual ceremony not for him but because she wanted to; he might faint.

He’s gripping her arms firmly now, eyes glassing over, “You, you want to do that with- with me?” it’s said in a tone of disbelief and her lips are parting in shock.

“You thought I wouldn’t?” Her frown is deeper now, and he pauses to press a lingering kiss to her forehead, closing his eyes to savor it because he knows he’s a romantic and she makes him want to embrace it.

She lowers her chin a fraction to allow it and smiles to herself, waiting for Roman to collect his thoughts.

He breaks away, looking her full in the face. “I never wanted to pressure you, we’d talked about a ceremony before and, I wanted it to be whatever you were comfortable doing. I would have married you in a dumpster if it came to it!” He finishes desperately, hoping she can feel his sincerity. It is the truth; and he expects she knows it by the way her face is turning into a grin again and she’s finally pulling him closer by his open jacket. What he does not expect is for her to kiss him full on the mouth and to move her hands from his jacket to his hair and take advantage of his gasp to slip her tongue in his mouth. He’s quite sure that he can count their public kisses on one hand despite the years they’ve been together but he can’t be bothered to relive all that now, she’s kissing him, lips soft but persistent and not even Butcher’s presence is going to stop him from enjoying that. His hands are winding around her waist, his eyes slipping shut, and he’s kissing her back with a fervor to match the one she started with, angling his head and putting all the feelings he can into it. All the yearning for her that he’s done, all the desire to hold her forever, all the gratitude that she gave him a chance all those years ago, happiness at the moment they’re currently sharing, care for her, pining after her, love for her.

She tries pulling away twice and he chases her each time, his hand between her shoulder blades brings her back the first time, a hand in her hair the second, before she finally manages it, pushing against his forehead with her own and laughing breathlessly.

“You have to let me go if I’m going to get ready to marry you again”. Her grin is splitting her face and he moves to kiss her eyelids, watching her eyes flutter closed at the last second. He places the first kiss, softly as ever, “What if” he moves to kiss the second one “I don’t want to?”

She smiles softly again, “Well, then you can answer to Hannah about why we didn’t have her in our wedding.” It’s the ace, she knows it, and if her slowly growing grin isn’t obvious enough, the twinkling in her eyes says she’s caught onto the pun too and is eagerly anticipating his pointing it out. He does her the honor, and they laugh together, noses brushing, before he turns toward Butcher, still keeping her close enough to slip his hands into her back pockets. The man in question is typing on his phone but manages to look up after a few seconds, dryly asking

“Oh, are y’all done now?” He says it with such apathy any passer-by would assume they spent nearly every moment lip-locked but Roman shakes his head and continues smiling anyway.

Butcher’s eyes return to the phone, “I got in touch with my Sunshine”. He says it so casually, as if Hannah didn’t have another name, as if they weren’t about to have their three year wedding anniversary soon, as if they hadn’t been trying for a baby all that time, “She’s going to meet Erica at the store, Green’s on his way with the car. My Sunshine’s had all this planned for a while, Ms. Erica, you two can sort the details, I’ll take care of the boss.”

Roman has sincere doubt that Butcher’s darling is the only one who’s had this ‘all planned out’ (if their original ceremony is anything to go by, he’s certain he’s right). Nonetheless, he turns to Erica, giving her one last brush of their noses before pulling his hands out of her pockets and leaning away. “Well, wife“ the word is punctuated by an eyebrow pop, “I suppose I won’t be allowed to see you till this afternoon, any last words for your darling husband who may very well perish from the depravation?”

She’s laughing out loud now, hiding her face in her hands and he can’t stop himself from pulling her in for a hug by the shoulders, certain that the joy between them could power a city. She lingers in the embrace for a few moments longer before they both hear the car pull up in the quiet. When she pulls away her hands come between his arms and cradle his face, “I’ll count the seconds till I’m back with you.”

Its said quietly. Sincerely. With so much gravity that Roman almost regrets the teasing tone he had taken beforehand. She’s sliding away, walking backwards to the car—

“So far I’m up to three!!” It said with so much joviality, such a complete turnaround from three seconds ago that Roman can’t help the huff of air that he blows through his nose, looking away and biting his bottom lip, dragging his hands up to his hips, before looking back to her and raising a hand in farewell. She blows him a kiss and winks and his heart almost stops for the second (or was it third?) time that morning.

“Alright Butch” It’s a tone that reeks of resignation but if he’s honest he can’t wait to see what the man has planned, turning toward him, he opens his arms wide in a gesture of acceptance. “Take me away. Make me look pretty. Make me the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen.” He’s teasing now, maybe if he tries hard enough Butch will leave him here and he can get a cab and follow Erica, spend the whole day with her. Tell her she’s absolutely gorgeous in every dress she has on, that he really would marry her anywhere, that he can’t wait to get old with her, that--- He becomes aware of Butch snapping his fingers in his face.

“Ok I give up, just don’t drool in the car.”

************************************************************************

[bearsfakedthemoonlanding]

Gender Queer: There’s a Few Memories that Stick to me that I’m Sure Don’t Mean Anything to Anyone Else

[Content warning: mild transphobia, drunk driving mention, mild homophobia, mentions of abusive relationship, F-slur used for self (second to last paragraph)]

I’m sixteen years old, sitting on the kitchen table while my mom tuts around in the kitchen.  I haven’t come out yet, but I have cut my hair off.  Julie Andrews pixie that my mom tried to fix, but it was too short to turn out anything but boyish.  I think it’s starting to grow out, get a little shaggy.  I didn’t have any idea how hair gel worked at that age.  I was wearing baggy jeans and chucks and a green t-shirt that said “Meddle Not In The Affairs Of Dragons, For You Are Crunchy And Taste Good With Ketchup.”  My favorite uncle got it for me.  Mom is staring at me for a long time, and I finally turn to look at her and ask, what? what’s up?  She doesn’t want to tell me, says I don’t want to know.  I insist.  She finally sighs and says, “Well, I was just looking at you, and for a moment I felt like I was looking at the son I could have had.  That’s strange, right?  I’m sorry.”  She thought I’d be upset, like I didn’t know what I was doing, and while I felt bizarre it wasn’t because I was sad.  It was because I was happy.  She looked at me and saw a son, saw a boy, and something about that felt so right that I felt guilty.  I shouldn’t have wanted it.  I didn’t change anything, though.

Twenty-two years old.  Work got out at seven-thirty, and I drove the hour and a half to a different time zone to the only gay bar within driving distance.  Jackie’s in South bend.  Or Vickie’s maybe.  It’s dark, and I’m in a pick up truck and a black t-shirt.  The city can be dangerous in certain areas and I’m anxious about everything I’m doing.  Gay bars are different here than they are in Vegas.  Still, I bolster myself up and go inside, walk with wide shoulders and heavy boots, trying to feel brave to be taken seriously. 

It’s empty.  The bartender is a gorgeous person with long hair and lipstick and rough hands.  They laugh when I order a Seagram’s but oblige, and I torture myself trying to find a polite way to tell them how pretty they are.  My not-yet-girlfriend texts me and tells me not to be such a baby, to have fun.  I want to go home.  

Then two people walk in, a man and a woman both shorter than I am, and they pass around a plate of vegan fudge that I’m dumb enough to eat even though it could easily be laced with something.  I’m a disaster with weed, each and every time.  I got lucky.  The boy sits next to me with the girl on his other side, and she leans around him to flirt with me, hand on me knee and shoulder and neck, and he sits there and smirks at me.  It’s not predatory.  He doesn’t look at me the way I’m used to men looking at me, like I’m something pretty and easy and delicate.  We arm wrestle.  He leans his head on my shoulder. I feel like a man. 

They dance with me, two more Seagrams and I’m no longer self-conscious, though I am blushing.  She drags me around by the belt loops.  He lets me put my hands on his sides.  She pushes me against a wall, and kisses me neck, and he places a hand on my chest over my binder and seems happy to find it, which is not a response I’ve ever had before. 

They tell me I’m the best of both worlds, half-way between a man and a woman, and that they’re bisexual and best friends and looking for someone to play with.  I play for a while, safe there in the public eye and probably pissing off the regulars there for a quiet night.  I tap out after four or five drinks and drive myself home, a little drunk, very unsafe, but absolutely glowing.

I’m eighteen years old, and in less than 24 hours I’ll be admitted to the hospital and put on a ventilator for pneumonia-- so obviously this memory is hazy.  I’d gotten up at six that morning to get work done before school, I’d struggled through school, and I’d stopped at a gas station before work.  There, I bought two doses of Dayquil, a coke, and a five hour energy.  I slammed it all and clocked in to the job that I hated.  It payed $6 an hour and was hardly enough to put gas in the beater truck I drove around everywhere.

I’m going through the racks, bending down to pick clothes up off the floor and rehang them.  Goodwill was my personal nightmare.  Every time I leaned over, my head spun and vision danced with black, and my heart would pound and skip so hard I was half-convinced I was dying. 

Someone’s sweet little grandma drops something in front of me, and I stoop down to pick it up for her.  She says, “Oh what a sweet young man!” 

And the friend she’s with, another darling grandma, says, “No, no, that’s a girl.”

“It’s a boy.”

“It’s a girl.”

They argue back and forth, and I’m too dizzy and nauseous to be an active part of the conversation.  I remember standing there doing my best to keep the floor from rocking underneath me while also glowing in adoration.  I was wearing an Iron Maiden t-shirt under my smock, and my baggy navy blue school trousers.  I was an enigma, and I was overjoyed.

After work I would go back to school for play rehearsal-- my part was small, unimportant, a Pick a Little Lady in the Music Man-- so I spent most of the evening on the floor between seats listening to my friends talk.  I would get so tired, head spinning and heavy and eyes burning, that I would have to lay down.  Every time I was horizontal, my chest would heavy and coughs from the bottom of my gut would overwhelm me enough to have me right back up and doubling over.  Eventually, someone dragged me up to our director, who sent me home.  I insisted I could drive.  I don’t remember anything between talking to her and being at the doctor’s office the next morning, suffocating behind a face mask and half-collapsed in the waiting room.

He was terrible.  Sneaky, passive-aggressive, physically aggressive.  He was rude to waiters and condescending.  God only knows how I was stupid enough to waste so much time on him, let alone give him any power over me.  It started with a loss of virginity, when he offered blatantly and my dumb-ass brain told me “it’s now or never.”

It was terrible.  Should have known from that first night, when I went over to watch movies wearing sweatpants (men’s section), boxer briefs, and a pull over sweatshirt (hers).  He said, “you really dress like this, huh?”  He’d only ever seen me in workout clothes at our college sport club. 

The thing about bad men is that it doesn’t matter what your gender is, if you have a vagina that’s all they see you as. 

We were out on a date a few months in, bowling at a casino after grabbing dinner.  He’d said to dress up, so I put on my nice black jeans and a button up shirt.  He was disappointed.  We argued over who got to pay the bill.  I won, and he snapped something about how he didn’t have to waste his money at least.  

We went bowling.  Every bowling date I’ve gone on with men (3) have been absolute train wrecks in totally opposite ways.  This time, we spend the night at odds with each other, as he takes it all seriously and tries to give me pointers, and I do trick shots-- sliding on my knees and bowling belly-down on the floor and spinning around with my eyes closed.  He thinks I’m ridiculous, but I’m having fun.  

We’re walking back, and he pulls his hand out of mine and sticks it in his pocket.  He says “We look like homosexuals,” and I’m baffled, because at 20 years old I might be butch but I’m still a girl.  He says, “You walk like a man, and why are you dressed like that?”  He tells me I ought to grow my hair out, or at least put some makeup on.  He asks, “Do you ever wear dresses?”  Asks me to try and put in an effort. 

I bought a dress a few months later, and I showed it to him.  He frowned. 

When I look in the mirror in a dress, I see nothing but a boy in a dress.  There’s nothing wrong with that, of course, but when you’re not thinking of yourself as a boy it feels rather disheartening.  I had some weird hope that the dress itself would transform me into a woman.  I think he did too. 

I didn’t wear that dress again until my twenty-first birthday celebration with my uncle.  He came in from out of town to waste money on a elaborate, drunken celebration.  He has money to waste like that.  I dragged one of my friends along, my roommate since sophomore year, and it was the most drunk I had ever been and she was a sweetheart about holding my hand and leading me around and adjusting my dress every time the straps slipped down or I spread my legs too far.  Nothing makes me feel like a fag quite as much as wearing a dress.  I still don’t know how to feel about that.

In a way, I’m glad that he never saw me as “pretty.”  I’m glad I managed to be such a disappointment, and to crawl my way out of it with my life in tact and his pride rather bruised.  He deserved nothing less, but his gross comment-- his confusion, disgust-- still makes me grin when I think about it.

I’ve taken so much joy throughout the years in other people’s confusion about me.  At nineteen I used to proudly say that my gender was “confusion.”  To be fair, I am rather confused by it.  So are other people.  And in its own way, isn’t that rather wonderful?

[bae-science]

⬤,#,ʃ

⬤: being called soft things like baby, sweetheart or honey

#: shaky hands

ʃ: fingers running through sweaty hair

Vanessa sleeps with her phone under her pillow, at first.

The default alert noise made by the Dexcom G6 sensor when detecting high blood sugar is the highest E note possible on an electric keyboard, chosen specifically to wake up the wearer even in REM so the high can be corrected. Vanessa would know. It’s the single most annoying fucking sound in the entire fucking world, and no matter how many times she’s heard it over the years, it never fails to pull her from a good night’s sleep to blearily stumble out of bed and stab herself at two in the fucking morning. The precise, ear-splitting pitch that automatically plays at full volume is the absolute bane of her fucking existence, and Newt better hurry his ass up and develop an artificially grown pancreas, or one of these nights, she’s gonna throw something. Other than her pen. And that’s usually on accident. Usually.

She didn’t get her hands on a CGM until she, Karla, and Hermann were bunking up together, and even then Hermann had turned the study into a bedroom, so she and Karla took the real ones. Waking someone else up during the night with an alarm was never a problem.

Then, of course, she and Karla began sleeping together (both in the sense that they shared a bed, and Vanessa was finally getting to top both of their brains out), and suddenly Vanessa had a whole other person’s night’s sleep to think about.

The solution ended up being to place her phone squarely under the center of her pillow, then sleep directly on it so any noises were only audible to her ears. She would hear the telltale beeping of a high or low alert, carefully extricate herself from the bed, and deal with the problem while steadfastly praying it didn’t wake Karla. She and Hermann had already dealt with enough issues sprung from her diabetes. What kind of a girlfriend would Vanessa be if she dragged Karla awake every time her blood sugar decided to ruin her beauty sleep?

It was already a small miracle Vanessa had somehow managed to get Karla as her butch. She wasn’t pushing her luck.

It’s of course the first one in years that dips into the forties that Karla wakes up for. Obviously.

Vanessa is living just her best possible life, braced against the kitchen counter with one eye screwed shut as she tries to steady her hand enough to measure out exactly 1/4 a cup of orange juice. She wants an entire bag of pretzels dipped in an entire tub of Nutella so badly she could cry. Or just a soft pretzel. Or salt and vinegar chips-- actual fucking potato chips, not french fries with British language disease. Although actually fries would do in a pinch.

She swallows hard and tries to get the numbers on the side of the measuring cup to swim into focus. This is not a productive line of thinking. Yes, Vanessa’s at like 45 right now, and yes it feels like she’s about to pass out and/or scream if she doesn’t clean out the backroom of a Dunkin’, or possibly a grain silo, but she’s still going to try and go back to sleep after this, and lying in bed unconscious with more than ten grams of uncovered carbs in her system is going to wake her right back up in two hours at 238. And that will just top this night with one helluva fucking cherry.

Vanessa remembers without a hint of fondness the lecture on insulin sensitivity she had been given by her endocrinologist back at sixteen. Oh, regular exercise makes a little hit you harder? Well you won’t believe what hiking through jungles and climbing through the ventilation systems of people who thought the Trail of Tears was a soft solution will do!

She fumbles for her phone and slides open the Dexcom app. There isn’t even a number anymore, just the word “LOW” in all caps. Vanessa does actually want to cry now. Her limbs feel like they’re made of melting jello, sweat pouring down her back in waves of heat. The inside of her chest feels like it’s shaking alongside every other part of her body, hands refusing to stay still long enough to make an accurate pour.

A bit of juice sloshes out of the bottle and onto the counter, and Vanessa winces at the thought of having to clean that up as well. A whore in church would offer her a fan right now. 

The strange, cottony feeling in her ears muffles the footsteps from the doorway until a hand on her shoulder makes her jump. Or, at least, she would jump if the idea of any sort of movement were a remote possibility.

“Nessa, darling, are you alright?” Karla asks, her fingers cool and dry against Vanessa’s burning skin. Language, English or German, doesn’t feel doable right now, but she gives it a go.

“‘M good, jus’ low,” she says in what’s probably heavily slurred, but her tongue feels like it weighs a hundred pounds and her brain resembles the state that arrives only with six consecutive shots of tequila. She gives the measuring cup another squint and misses the rim by several inches. Fuck.

“Your blood sugar?” Karla guesses, voice pitched low and blessedly soft. Vanessa nods. 

“We are not living, laughing, or loving tonight. I would kick so many fuckin’ babies square in the goddamn chest for an entire cylinder of cookie dough. I want a lobotomy.” These three sentences don’t make sense following each other, but Karla seems to understand anyway. She moves her hand to guide Vanessa’s into setting down the orange juice, then away.

“Please, love, let me; we’ll need a towel anyway at this rate.” She takes the carton, nodding and interrupting with, “One fourth a cup, I know,” when Vanessa begins to speak. 

Karla hands her the cup and Vanessa gulps it down, coughing slightly as some of it gets caught in her throat. Her hands are still shaking as she lets it drop back onto the counter, but Karla encircles her arms around her and carefully helps her to the floor.

Without thinking twice, Vanessa leans her head on her shoulder, letting out a long, pinched breath through her mouth as Karla winds her fingers through her hair. Her nails, blunt and neat, scratch lightly at her scalp, the other arm tight around her shoulders, one hand splayed across her arm.

“I know it’s rather necessary, but I quite like it when you don’t wear a bonnet to bed,” Karla murmurs into the top of her curls. “It’s like your hair is perfect for short nails.”

“Hhng,” Vanessa manages, the sweat on her skin beginning to cool. She shivers and leans in closer to Karla’s warm, blissfully average body heat. The words force themselves out on instinct. “Sorry I woke you up. It’s s’posed to be quieter.”

Karla turns her head to look at her quizzically. “What do you mean? You were gone for almost twenty minutes, and the bed was cold, so I got worried. Your alarm’s never woken me before.”

“Well I sure hope so. I know it’s, like. Annoying.”

Vanessa feels something twist in her stomach, and even though she knows Karla of all people would never pity her, perhaps only succeeded by Hermann, this admission of her limitation’s existence still fills her with discomfort. It’s unspoken, but known just under the surface, like a persistent itch. Acknowledging the negatives of this-- that the prevailing ideas it’s “not a huge deal” and “thriving not despite but because” are utter fallacy and crafted lines-- feels like a betrayal of some sort. That she’s doing it all wrong.

“What’s annoying,” Karla says gently, “is waking up to a cold bed and my girlfriend stranded in the kitchen over 1/4 a cup of orange juice, when I could quite easily and willingly help her. Have you been doing all this yourself this whole time?”

Vanessa nods, tracing her bare toes back and forth across the faux-wooden flooring. “I mean. Yeah.”

“Oh, darling.” Karla pulls her closer. “Please, please don’t take this as patronizing, but you always could have asked. I know how unpleasant these things are for you, and if there’s anything I can do to make it easier, I want to know. I’d be quite a dreadful girlfriend if I didn’t.”

Vanessa turns her head further into Karla’s shoulder, breathing in the clean, ginger scent of her soap; the warm pillow-smell from a few hours of sleep. “You don’t, like, have to. Like I said, I’ve been doing it myself.”

“But you don’t have to. I’m here; I’m willing. More than that, actually-- if, or I suppose when, this happens again, I want to know so I can be there for you.” She brings a hand to Vanessa’s cheek and cups it, turning it up to look her square in the eyes. “Please, Vanessa?”

Vanessa can’t last two seconds against Karla’s huge, brown doe eyes. She gives a tiny sigh. “Okay. If you want to.”

“I do.”

“Then I want measuring cups with bigger numbers. You always leave your glasses on the bedside table.”

Karla ducks her head and chuckles into her hair. “Yes, yes, you’re right. Leave your phone next to them, then. Then we won’t forget.”

Vanessa doesn’t. She also doesn’t sleep with her phone under her pillow anymore. Bad for your sleep habits, actually. And, y’know. Karla asked her not to.

[lavenderhyrdrangea]

Moon River 2.0

If you prefer to read on ao3 the link is here

Butch had undoubtedly sprained his ankle; the mild caution in his step had given it away.  Dedicated to making matters worse, he  kept his usually flippant mouth shut about  the pulled joint even with Grayditch, by then, miles behind them.Viola deferred his much needed chiding in favor  of hammering her fist on the door to her  happy place, a dream land where she didn’t have to deal with his screw ups.

Frustrated was too gentle a word to describe her feelings about their predicament.  Sure, no one wanted to admit that the first thing they did when they saw a fire ant was shriek then ragdoll fling themselves in the opposite direction—But that was the most common reaction. Those incendiary pests made even the most skilled Wastelanders wet their pants, so a trembling valutie was no surprise. Most people understood that.  But Butch? No, not him. Of course not. Most blowhards had a problem admitting to their shortcomings and he was no exception. He was a dummy and thought that his wounded pride mattered in the Waste.

Instead of pressing him for a confession, she opted for the sit back and watch method.  If he wanted to suffer in silence like an obstinate little turd, then far be it for her to break her back trying to lend a hand.

With the way his nostrils were flared his breaking point had to be soon.

“Whys the crapshoot settlement got to be so far?”

“Yeah, got to admit—I don’t remember the walk being this long.”

“Map’s probably all wrong. Makes stuff appear to be where it ain’t.”

Viola stopped. Not hearing her steps behind him, Butch followed suit and glanced over his shoulder.

“ If the directions and the destination don’t match then maybe you’re on to something.”

He raised a brow, urging her to go on.

“Maybe Megaton got so sick of hearing you whine about it that it got up and ran.”

Butch gave a hard roll of his eyes and went back to walking, no, shuffling ahead.

“I ain’t got no time for games, girl.”

“Girl, Nosebleed, Poindexter, Wet rag. I love the  variety, but I’m sure you know I’ve got a name,” She started walking again and met his pace, “and a gun.”

She’d been threatening him with a bullet ever since she was old enough to traipse the lower parts of the Vault with Sister Beebee. Much like her single barreled friend’s Bbs, the constant shots she and Butch fired at each other could pierce through skin;often times it did. Arguments ended with balled fist and gnashed teeth. He tried to steal her sweet roll so she spat on it. He yanked her hair and called her ugly, so she got a hold of some hair removal product, walked right up to him and poured it all over his head. He ran a rumor about her and Freddie, so she told Wally about all the trips he and Susie took to closets when they thought no one was looking.  

The only reason why she hadn’t tried to kill  him was because he would try to do her in the moment he saw her coming.  Of the little pre-war history she had been taught, she remembered that something called the Nuclear Deterrence Theory followed the same  notion. One nation  would hold off on blasting another to bits for fear of a full and equal retaliation. Given the fact that they were trekking through radiated rubble, a couple of somebodies screamed “screw that” while pounding on their respective shiny red button.  Regardless, her and Butch’s civility with one another had always come down to survival, and that sentiment doubled once they no longer had the Vault’s fortified walls to protect them.  

Butch looked as if he was going to say something smart but it came out as a grunt instead.

“I think that thing back there bit my ankle.” He croaked.

“If that were the case you wouldn’t have a leg and I would’ve had no choice but to leave you to die.”

Before he could spit his usual venom, Viola offered him her shoulder to lean on. He seemed startled by it. This wasn’t the first time he’d been injured but it was definitely the first time she’d voluntarily offered to allow him to use her as balance as oppose to him just pressing his weight on her after getting fed up with the tough guy act.

He eventually gave in after she reminded him of the type of mutants that stalked around once the sun set. They made some advancements. And by some that meant none at all. She considered finding a raider camp and telling Butch to hang back while she took care of them.  The shot gun was empty so it wouldn't be an easy task. She rarely used her sniper rifle though it would be useless in close quarter combat, plus there was a reason why she didn't use it much.

She had a bat and rusty pipe. Using them in each hand would…

“Hey, Nosebleed?”

“ Whatever it is,  shorten it. Trying to figure out where we’re sleeping tonight. ”

“How long did you know about my ankle?”

“You’re an open book, Deloria.” She snorted. “Wide open.”

“Did your old man teach you how to spot stuff like that?”

Viola chewed the inside of her cheek as she eyed the dilapidated overpass ahead of them. No respite.

“Sorry.” He said sheepishly.

"No, you're good."

It wasn't like she hadn't done something similar. During her first day of her little vault rescue mission, she'd asked him about Paul.

The next few minutes of silence was unnerving. She'd rather hear Butch's mouth than to go down the rabbit hole that was her father and the pain he had inadvertently caused those in the vault.

“Why do you ask? You’re not one one to care about my home life unless it’s for ammunition.”

“Just thinking.”

“Quit that will you?  The Wastes are as  hellish enough as it is without the universe folding in on itself.”

“ Oh ho ho! You’re a real  walking stand up show ain’t you? You’ve really missed your calling. Maybe you should drop the guns and plant yourself in the Rudder. That place is rough, they could use a clown.”

If anyone was a clown it was the guy limping the way home.

She peered across the large expense to the left of her. Maybe they would be more likely to find a camp if they veered off the main path.

"I get it. Scarecrow has a  brain now and wants to think and be serious."

"What do you think our lives would be like right like if the door never opened?"

Huh.

" The GOAT  sorted that out  didn’t it? You'd be a hairdresser and I'd be in Vault Management.”

"Barber."

“That’s not what the GOAT said.” She playfully sang.

"Forget that stupid test. If I say I'm a barber then I'm barber." He sounded like he would've shouted that if he had any energy to do so.

"Looks like you’ve got an answer to your half of the question."

"No, wait. I'm not a barber."

"You sound very confused. I’m guessing the great Oz put that brain in backwards or something."

" Forget everything. Act like the door never opened and the GOAT never existed. Where would you be?"

Viola fell into silence again, in search of an answer to his question. With putting nearly all she had into surviving the Wasteland, she only ever had time to think about lost friendships and broken bonds not the normal, ground level what could have beens. Where would she be? Not helping Butch for starters. Also, working with her father as receptionist for his medical office. After that she might have taken a part-time job helping around at the diner. There wasn't much variety in the Vault, and with certain jobs being limited to only one or two people what little options she had dwindled even further.

Butch had taken the reigns of the conversation after she had assigned herself back to searching duty. He gave a response she didn't think she'd hear: An officer.

"Don't go shooting me funny looks," He said, eyeing her as she gave him a sidelong glance.

She decided to leave that as it was, looking for a resting place and holding a serious conversation as he called it proved to be harder than she thought.

Their trek eventually led them to an abandoned campsite. There was blackened wood and a smoky aroma that indicated there was a fire not too long ago, a backpack with some sugar bombs, and canned pork and beans inside, and a note with barely legible scrawl stating to a Ben that a Ricardo, she learned from the closing statement, was going to go ahead to the old scrapyard without him, and that he should eat something before meeting up with him later and that if someone had taken the food before he got there it was his fault for not hurrying. She wouldn't touch the food left for Ben, however, the  junkyard peaked her interest. Most of the items would be picked over but Viola discovered a while ago that few Wastelanders knew that if you accumulated enough junk you could earn a decent amount of Caps.

She’d been deciding whether or she should drop Butch off at Megaton and get Dogmeat first, or try to make the quick stop to the Scrapyard before Megaton when Butch started taking dinner out from his backpack. The rotten smell of Yum Yum Deviled Eggs was enough to keep her present.

She picked up the conversation where she left it. “You rebel without a cause  types wouldn’t even waste the spit it would take to put a fire out if the thing burning happened to be some type of authority or institution. I doubt you’ve experienced any type of growth since you’ve stumbled out of the Vault.”Her gaze trailed over the length of his frame,taking in the relative newness of the jeans and white Tee he procured from Seagrave, shocked that they weren’t filthy yet.   “Imagining you willingly wearing another uniform is enough to induce  a fever dream.”

“Says you. I’ve grown plenty,”

“In the ego department, maybe.” She muttered at first then brought her voice back to a level tone.” Is this  some type of kink in your psyche? You hate what you secretly desire?”

“You calling me a boot muncher?”

“I’m saying that your sudden  judicial interests are suspect.”

“ They’re untouchable. People don’t mess with them. If someone’s stupid enough to push their luck they’ve got  three other officers there to back them up.” He managed through half chewed up deviled egg chunks.

She added her own items to their little spread: Muttfriut, Peaches,and Pinto Beans.  With his eggs and Sugar bombs they  almost had the four basic food groups, albeit the poor man’s version.

“So,” She paused, thinking, “you wanted to be a big man with legal backing, huh?  Gives credence to that one saying.”

Notwithstanding the obvious dig, He asked easily, “Yeah? What saying?”

“Bullies seek out positions of authority. Typically, the guys try to be officers and the girls go for nursing jobs. I’m a little surprised you didn’t get that as a result on the GOAT.”

Butch’s lips quirked into a stupid grin. “What’s all that make you miss Vault Managament?”

“ I’m only a partial bully and that’s thanks to you.”

“ Everything’s my fault. Right. I forgot.”

She shrugged. "You said it. Not me."

The conversation lulled as they fell to the rest of their meal. Gingerly holding a piece of Muttfruit under the fading sunlight, Butch shifted from his lazy supine  position to a full on crouch and put his nose to it. With that litmus test out the way, he nibbled on it like a molerat, sampling bite after bite, until the  full flavor zinged on his tongue. He spat the chewed mush  past his puckered lips.  Viola had gobbled down her cheekful of sugar bombs to free up space so she could tease but went for a subtle side eye last minute. Leave it to Butch to turn his nose up at something good for him.

“People move for them, you know?” He  admitted, jumping back into their intial conversation. More so to not have to take another bite than eager a need to continue their chat.

Narrowing her eyes, she said, “So you fantasize about the badge because  you have a naive fantasy about power and control.  Is that it?  You’re idea of  law  enforcement  and people in leadership explains your past behaviors a bit too well. ”

“Christ, way to miss a point. That ain’t it at all. Security has guns and stuff.”

“Weapons intimidate.  Intimation  can lead to power or control. Use your head for something besides hair gel for once.

“No, no,no-You brought up the badge, right?  That’s it.  That’s all it is.”

“I’m still not sure about what ‘it’ is.”

Butch huffed.

“Say I draw pretty picture.  Cogs in a circle. A winged sword jabbing through. You’d think..?

“Oh, an inkblot test almost.”

“A what? Quit stalling, Nosebleed.”

“The Brotherhood of Steel.  Resourceful. Altruistic. Tech-savvy. A bit frigid when it comes down to the more human side of things. Order, Structure, Chain of command—That’s them. Forming an order  and plotting ahead is smart of them. I don’t like their...well, steel but I respe--”

Butches eyes went wide and he pointed. “There.”

Viola chewed on that for a bit.   " I think I get you." She said, nodding.

Butch’s expression grew soft for split second but smoothed out and eventually went back to it’s normal wise guy grin.  

" How come I'm the only one sharing?"

" I honestly don't know what my answer would be."

" You never wanted nothing?"

She rolled the deviled egg she pilfered before Butch demolished the rest of them between her fingers.

"I remember wanting to do things that would make my father say that my mom would happy."

"And being a receptionist would have done that?"

"It did. He would tell me all the time that she would be happy that I'd taken to the working around the office. I think my mom and my dad valued my safety. That's what made them both happy. But out here safety’s luxury."

"Well, you’re not dead, stiff as a board, but not dead. I’d say you’re doing a good job of keeping yourself safe."

"Not for long. Not with all these curve balls."

They each took their turn taking watch as night fell and passed. Viola made Butch promise to wake her in case something happened and either through guilt or some form of pride he asked her to wake him if she ever got too tired.

A blinding sunlight woke Butch up.  Since she’d been out of the vault longer than he had she’d already adjusted to the wastelands rays, and simply took her pair of shades from her backpack and tolerated it on her skin.

"Wish we had something to drink." He said with sleep thick in his voice.

"I brought some purified water from home."

"Something stronger."

"That's not a good idea outside of any settlements," She shot him a withering glare," for you, I personally don’t think that's a good idea at all."

Butch grumbled, "Gimme the water then."

Butch took a three huge, loud gulps.

"I thought of something Mr. Brotch said."

Butch's crumpled his face up like she just told him she spat in his water. "Why?"

"I talked to him after the GOAT. I wasn't happy with my results—“

"—He never told me nothing like that."

"That's because he didn't like you. Look.  He told me the whole thing was a joke. And if  it is actually is joke, and we we could forgo those results then why not here?"

"What?"

"No one really knows who we are out here. As long as we're not blowing towns up, we can do anything. And if we get bored we can do something else."

"Something tells me the Officer thing is a pipe dream."

“You don’t have to be an Officer. That’s not what you want. Just make some noise and people will associate you with it. I know I do.”

"Yeah, I like that. And you can make your folks happy then."

“Yeah.”

Viola decided to take Butch to Megaton first. They gathered their belongings from around the camp and continued their journey. This time Butch leaned on Viola from the start.

“Hey.” He said a little too quietly.

“Is your ankle bothering you?”

“Nope.”

“What is it then?”

“Would you really have left me behind if I lost a leg?”

She let silence past so he would sweat some.

“No, but I would’ve given you one heck of a nickname.”

For the first time she made him rumble out in that snorting laughter only his friends back in the vault could.

“Nerd.”

*                                                  *                                                         *

A bit sentimental are ya? You might like my Young Justice(animated) fic, Game Plan, starring Wally West, long roads and glaring insecurity.

[docholligay]

The Split

I needed to look this up for timeline questions, and I decided to release it publicly because it may be some of my favorite Michiru dialogue I’ve ever written

Squid commissioned this, asking for "Why did Usagi and Mamoru get divorced??" And so here you are! I hope you like it, 2,200 words.

There was a freedom in finally handing her the papers, however guilty he’d felt over her tears.

Usagi did not like to admit defeat, and it was only for this reason that the illusion had gone on so long, Mamoru reasoned. She only cried in the way she did when things did not go her way, when her desire for something had no bearing on its outcome. Usagi was spoiled, he thought, but warmly, and so she cried because she was being denied the ideal marriage she’d pictured. That was all. It was the same as how she had cried when the War had ended, when they had won and lost, all in one day.

He rethought the comparison. This was more like the ice cream shop running out of chocolate chip cookie dough just before she’d arrived, or not having those homemade waffle bowls, plush and warm. This wasn’t so serious as that day, sitting in the hospital, hearing a list of horrors and tragedies. It had been delivered with his smile, with his assurance that this was best, with a doughnut from a shop she loved.

He hadn’t hurt her. He’d only told her the truth.

It was a form of the truth, at least, as he lingered on the patio of the cafe, sipping at his espresso con panna. The day was cold, but the sun streamed in the windows of the patio, warming it nicely as he nibbled at the edges of a jambon beurre. He’d gone to this cafe with his parents, and it seemed the only thing that had been constant in his life since he was a child. He could almost laugh at himself, seeking the comfort of childhood as surely as Usagi would. It was easy to see why people thought they should be together, however wrong it might have been.

“My love, I am afraid I might be a bit tardy this evening. No, no, go ahead and feed her. Yourself, as well, if you like, though I won’t be too long. Yes, perhaps if you behave yourself, I might be talked into bringing you something.”

Through all the chatter in the cafe, Michiru’s voice cut through, sharp and slender as a silver dagger.

He didn’t want to see her, though he could not pinpoint why. There had always, in truth, been a bit of fear in him when it came to Michiru Kaioh, from the time they had been children. They had all been polished, but Michiru had been honed, brought to a ringing and delicate edge. He hadn’t been particularly amused when fate had wrangled them together again.

Perhaps it was the fact that Michiru knew things without being told, long after her Sight had disappeared.

He sat still. His back was to the door, and there was as much a chance that Michiru was here to simply pick something up for herself before she went to meet a potential donor as anything else. Her parents lived near here, her donors lived near here, she had every reason in the world to be here, none of which had anything to do with him.

And yet, he heard the clicking of handmade Italian leather behind him, and she appeared, in her neatly-tailored coat, her coiffed teal hair moving like the waves of the sea.

“Chiba. How lovely to see you. May I sit?” Michiru gave a smile, the smile passed down from grandmother to mother to daughter.

The one that hid fangs.

Mamoru froze, in the moment, knowing every polite grace he should be giving a woman of her particular class, that his mother would scold him for not rising to the greeting of a Kaioh. But he also knew, instinctively, that Michiru had him cornered as a cat with a mouse, and that tended to dull the social graces.

She was the type to play with her food.

“Of course!” he sputtered, remembering himself, “That’d be wonderful. Please, please.”

He jumped out of his seat and pulled out the chair behind Michiru, who unbuttoned her coat and folded it onto the chair beside her, taking her seat as Mamoru pushed it in under her securely before sitting back down across from her. A young attendant swooped in, setting a light cup of tea in front of Michiru, who nodded politely.

Mamoru looked down at his sandwich, suddenly feeling a loss of appetite. “How are you? It’s been so long since we’ve sat down together.”

“Yes,” twisted the handle of the cup to her left hand, “I believe when we took Haruka and Usagi to the ballet, was the last. We barely spoke at Rei and Mina’s wedding.”

Mamoru’s stomach turned at the mention of Usagi’s name. Silly, he thought, Michiru has never really cared for Usagi. Usagi wouldn’t have told her anything, and Michiru wouldn’t bother with it if she did.

Michiru’s eyes flicked up to Mamoru’s. “I just saw Usagi over lunch, as it so happens.”

Fear and surprise are interesting emotions, and often one might be mistaken for the other. But Mamoru truly believed, in that moment, that he had experienced the both of them at once. There was the shock of Michiru having seen Usagi for lunch, and of Michiru not batting him around like a cat toy before coming to her point. This coupled nicely with the growing dread he felt over Michiru’s mention of the meeting, and her unwavering gaze as she waited for a reply.

“Oh.” Was all he managed.

“She tells me you two are parting ways,” She took a sip of her tea slowly, allowing him to marinate in the knowledge, “She seemed terribly distressed.”

“She cries so easily, you know, you’ve,” he gave a weak chuckle, “complained so often about her easy tears.”

“Hmm.” Michiru looked off to the side for a moment before returning, “You know, she didn’t seem to have the slightest idea why your marriage had fractured so. What a tragedy. She seems utterly at sea, wondering.”

Mamoru nodded. “Marriage is hard. I think you know that well yourself.”

Michiru flicked her eyebrow. “The both of you made some comparison of our marriage to your own, and in this particular case, I will ask you not to equate Haruka’s struggles to the thing we all know is coming between you. May I ask his name?”

Mamoru stiffened, nearly grabbing the edge of the tablecloth, his cheeks growing red and hot under the fire of Michiru’s pointed look. She was not angry, no, but she was firm and unwavering, and as always, in all those terrible things, she could see right through him.

“I--” Mamoru shook his head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Tiresome,” Michiru sighed, “And I hope he never knows that you have denied him. He must be special, for you to upset the comfortable lie you’ve constructed these many years.”

It was like standing in front of a firing squad, going back and forth with Michiru. She knew. She knew, and she had always known, and of course she had. She had known even as he painted himself the perfect man, even as he’d tried to convince himself that it wasn’t true.

“I do remember your little dalliance with Aki, you know.” She drummed her fingers on the table in a rare lack of decorum, “When you were young. Please don’t insult us both by saying it was nothing, I saw your heartache when he returned to Italy for the school year.”

Aki. There was no denying him, and how he had felt, just a boy of thirteen but full of freshness and stirring. Even his name still brought up that bloom of puppy love, and he wanted to smile. He was a fool. Of course Aki had told her. They were close companions, in those circles, gay and half-japanese and clever and rather resentful of the whole operation as it stood. He could not deny it, to her.

Mamoru straightened up, squaring his shoulders. “I might be bisexual.”

“Yes, and I might be a waitress in a noodle shop, if all things are possible.” She gave a chuff of a laugh, “But in this reality, I am a debutante, and you are gay.” She shook her head. “It’s the 21st century, for heaven’s sake, let's don't be Victorianate about it.”

The word rung in Mamoru’s ears, the truth of it seeping through, and his mind turned to the rose handed to him by the man behind the counter, the smile between them, the way his heart felt as if it would burst every time he smiled. No. Yes. It was so many things at once.

He crossed his arms. “And since when do you defend Usagi?”

“I am defending good faith and fair dealing, above all else.” Her gaze was flat and unimpressed. “You owe her the truth, I think we are both aware.”

He leaned back, defeated, his voice growing weary.“Maybe I’m not ready to come out, Michiru. Just yet.”

Michiru’s eyes narrowed. “I am not requiring full disclosure, you perfect coward, I am only requesting you tell Usagi. She blames herself for your desire to seek greener pastures, and that is entirely unfair to her.” She shrugged, “Though it is terribly bold of you to assume this will be some grand surprise. The theatrics, the cape, et cetera.”

“So, I enjoy the finer things.” Mamoru scowled, “Haruka wears men’s clothes, enjoys men’s things, and she’s just fine as a woman.”

“My wife is a butch lesbian, Mamoru, I am not entirely certain what sort of defense you are attempting to mount.”

“You couldn’t have--”

“Oh, if you must be that way about it,” Michiru threw her hands up, “Why Chiba! I had no earthly idea! I certainly had not suspected since I was a child!” She folded her hands in her lap. “Are you quite finished, now?” She stared at him for a few beats, and then picked up her tea, sipping at it as she looked away from him.

“You don’t unders--”

“Let me make it plain.” Michiru set down her cup of tea with an assured clink. “It matters not a whit to me if ever you reveal who you really are to the world, however much I feel you owe yourself that. I certainly will not out you. However, you will tell that girl, and you will make it clear that you think only that she deserves to find someone who truly desires her, and you will do so before I lose my patience.”

In a bold moment of stupidity, Mamoru had nearly growled, ‘or you’ll do what?’ But Mamoru, whatever else he might be, was not a stupid man, and his mind quickly called up the many things that Michiru might do if she were displeased, from small to large. It was confusing enough that the woman who had once disavowed any allegiance to Usagi was now her champion, and Mamoru did not particularly want to try her good humor.

“Usagi can’t keep a secret.” He managed to stumble out.

“Perhaps you should have considered that before marrying her. I, in fact, believe we rather had a discussion over the wisdom of your marriage.”

“The day before the wedding!” He hissed.

“Oh, pardon me, Chiba,” She shook her head her hands curled casually around the tea cup, “I apologize for being ever so absorbed in my wife’s ongoing rehabilitation that I neglected to properly supervise your breakneck rush to the altar.” she placed her hand on her chest, giving a small bow, “The fault is all mine.”

“Why are you doing this?” It came out strangled and afraid and angry.

Michiru paused for a moment, and considered him, glancing over his face and down to his balled fist. She glanced down at her tea as she continued, softly.

“Whatever Usagi’s faults are, and they are myriad, she does not deserve this treatment. This lie. She has only ever been kind to you. She is a loving person, Mamoru, and she will forgive you.” She sighed. “I have lived hating her, and did so for many years. But she may have been as much a victim of fate as all of us, and this may be the proof of it. I could not bring up any desire to protect her as Princess Serenity, but, now that she is Usagi I seem to have found it.” She looked back up, her voice growing steely. “And so, you will tell her why you are leaving.”

Michiru picked her coat up from the chair next to her and unfolded it carefully as she stood, straightening her skirt and tossing it over her shoulders. There was nothing more to say, and so Michiru would not say it. There was only the facts that she had outlaid, and whatever Mamoru chose to do with them. She turned to go, home to her marriage of love, her family, her sense of self that Mamoru had always privately envied.

“Michiru,” he said, “I don’t know how.”

She gave him the one kind look of the entire afternoon. “None of us have known how to navigate the waters of these past few years. Yet we have. You will.”

Michiru walked away, and Mamoru looked back down at his cold coffee and crumbling sandwich. Usagi had believed that love could fix anything. She had made him believe that, for a time. And maybe it was true.

Maybe he could love her enough, one more time, to tell her who he was.

[eeveevie]

dream theory

From this prompt list: marcid - incredibly exhausted

Thank you, @mizlapes​! That’s what I am all the damn time so I can draw great inspiration for this prompt. May have gone overboard in responding and elaborated far more than I needed to. But I’m also world building a bit, since I decided to go for another story with Rosie and Butch :D 

Butch DeLoria x Rosie Sheridan (Lone Wanderer)

2240 words | [read on Ao3]

Rosie knew she was asleep—she always knew when she was asleep—a talent she had discovered in adolescence after reading about lucid dreaming in her father’s science textbooks. Perhaps the reading was advanced for her age, but nonetheless she was able to trick her mind. Ever since, she had been able to control her dreams on most nights. She was typically a heavy sleeper and the combination made her sleep-cycles very intense when things went awry. And lately, her dreams weren’t going the way she wanted them to.

That evening, she had tried to go to sleep at a reasonable time but found her mind was too restless. In an effort to not disturb her housemate, Rosie snuck downstairs and cozied up in the corner of the couch with her journal, carefully detailing the last few days from memory. She glanced back up at the second story rafters, thinking if she focused hard enough she might hear Butch snoring through his closed bedroom door. She had given him the spare room after weeks of him hogging the sofa—he was starting to develop a strain in his neck on account of the fact he was too tall to sleep on it properly. It was still so bizarre to Rosie that this was where her life had led her—kicked out of the vault and shacked up with Butch DeLoria.

It wasn’t all bad though—he pulled his weight (even if she had to encourage him sometimes), could clean and cook and was surprisingly good company. After the prom stunt, Rosie had been walking on eggshells, carefully guarding her emotions as to not accidentally reveal or do something stupid. She didn’t want to jeopardize what was starting to become a good friendship between the two, something they missed out on while growing up in the vault. She was convinced that with a little bit of time and logic her crush would dissipate and that one day she’d laugh about how ridiculous it all was.

Rosie hadn’t realized she’d been dictating some of these sentiments in her notebook and contemplated crossing them out when her eyes became heavy. She shifted, leaning her head against the back of the couch for a moment as she rested her journal against her curled-up knees. Being that it was well past midnight, it couldn’t hurt to rest her eyes for a while and attempt to traverse the dreamscape once more. As the darkness enveloped her, she struggled to maintain focus, trying to craft a pleasant atmosphere for herself. Instead, all she could see was the Capital Wasteland—particularly the Arlington Cemetery.

Her body was moving on its own, soft whispers echoing around her and metal creaking that she wanted to say was just the Megaton home adjusting around her. Frantically she tried to snap open her eyes but found herself paralyzed—a slight panic settled over her and she reminded herself to breathe or it would only be made worse. She floated through the gravesites towards a back plot where a strange man stood with a shovel overlooking a freshly dug grave. He motioned for her to get in, to which she struggled to lean away—something was preventing her.

“Hey,” he spoke. The voice sounded familiar, too quiet to tell. But it didn’t match the unknown, almost faceless man she was staring at. “Come on.”

Rosie couldn’t speak even if she wanted to. Again she resisted when the man reached out for her, this time his hands making contact with her arms—it sent a shockwave through her system in how it felt so real. She twisted her body, struggling to wiggle herself free but ultimately could not.

“Damnit, Rosie.”

How did the man know her name? She supposed it was a dream concocted by her brain, the imaginary assailant should know. He gently shook her, his touch a contrast to what her mind was leading her to believe. She responded by pushing her hands out to grab him by the shoulders, gripping tightly as she willed herself to speak, to scream. She didn’t want to get in the grave, even if she knew it wasn’t real. The man shook her again, repeating her name.

Finally, with a sharp inhale, she snapped open her eyes and found her body reacting to delayed signals. Whomever was hovering over her got the brunt and she gripped their arms tightly, nearly headbutting them in an attempt to leap off the couch.

“Jesus!” Butch yelped, his hands tightening around her shoulders as he set her back on the couch before she could get too far. She stared up at him, a mix of shock and embarrassment—caught in the midst of a nightmare and why was he so damn close? “Holy shit, Stitches! You alright?”

Rosie swallowed hard, flexing her fingers when she realized she still had them wrapped around his biceps in a death-grip. He was wearing his white t-shirt, no leather jacket to cover up the muscles beneath, allowing her to get more than a good feel at his skin. When she felt her ears heating up, she let go, snapping her hands back to her sides. Butch seemed more focused on what had just occurred, assuring she wasn’t going to move before taking a hesitant step back.

“Got up to take a piss and saw you down here in the dark,” he explained with a shrug. “Wondered why you weren’t asleep. Didn’t realize you kinda were,” he scratched at the back of his head, and she noted the way his hair was hanging un-styled in bedhead waves. “Didn’t mean to scare ya’”    

She rolled her eyes at his vulgarity but crossed her arms to rub at her shoulders at the strange, underlying kindness in his words. He could’ve just stayed upstairs and ignored her but there he was, making an effort again and unknowingly chipping away at the defenses around her heart. Butch bent over to scoop up her journal that had dropped from her lap in his attempt to rouse her. At first, Rosie was convinced he would flip through it and see that she had been recently (and not so recently) been writing about him but to her surprise he very quickly handed it back to her with a smirk.

“I ain’t no snoop,” he said proudly.

She’d forgive him for the double-negative—turned out Butch could learn manners, but grammar and speech etiquette would have to come later. He sat down on the sofa next to her, the cushion shifting under his weight. Rosie moved, tucking her legs under herself and wrapping her arms around her knees as she leaned back into the corner—physically blocking him from coming any closer. He mimicked her, resting against the back padding so he could face her—their knees and arms knocked together in the small space.

“What’s got you so startled?” he asked.

She shrugged, unable to meet his eyes. They were too curious, and they were too close for her comfort. She didn’t mean to be evasive in her answer. “I’m not sure.”

“Pfft,” Butch replied, furrowing his brows. The back of his hand lightly smacked against her knee. “Don’t you have an answer for everything, smarty-pants?”

Rosie scrunched up her nose at the nickname, shaking her head. With a sigh, she nuzzled her head into the back-couch cushion. “Not for nightmares. Dream analysis isn’t medical science. That’s phycology, and even then it’s a very specialized form of phycology. Practically a pseudoscience.”

“Again with the big words,” Butch teased, smiling. “You saying you don’t know why you were so scared because of a nightmare? Or that you need to study a nightmare to find out why you were so scared?”

“A little of column a, little of column b,” she responded, hiding her amusement when she noted the confusion in his expression. “My…journal is filled with dream evaluations. I haven’t been sleeping well, which is unusual, and I’ve noted an increase in night-terrors and sleep paralysis.”

“Sleep—wha?” Butch questioned, eyebrows raised.

Rosie shifted uncomfortably. “It typically happens when you are waking up and are aware of your surroundings but are unable to move or speak. You hallucinate things that are not really present, almost like you are trapped between imagination and reality. It can be very frightening.”

He bristled. “Jeeze, Stitches. If you ain’t got enough shit to deal with.”

She tightened the hold around her knees. What she wouldn’t divulge was the guilt she felt surrounding the sudden appearance of said nightmares. For months she had been sleeping blissfully, almost as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Even after her father died and while she grieved, sleep came naturally—it was only very recently that she had become plagued by visions of darkness and death—and she wanted to know why. Why now, and not sooner? Psyche wasn’t a perfect science, but she was determined to narrow down a cause like the pragmatic scientist she was.

“Hey uh,” Butch started, pulling her from her thoughts. His hand was tapping against her knee again, fingers tugging against her cotton sweatpants. “I got a theory.”

Rosie quirked up an eyebrow, wondering if her vocabulary had started to rub off on him after all. He sneered at her for a split second in teasing as if he noticed her subtle shift in expression. “Yeah, so, maybe dreams are just dreams and that’s all that’s to ‘em. Don’t let nothin’ in some fancy textbooks tell you otherwise.”

For once, Butch’s advice was actually good. Maybe Rosie was too much in her head about her own thoughts and dreams. If all she did was obsess over every minute of her sleep-cycle, she’d be playing into the mad-scientist trope he’d been teasing her about for over a decade. Subconsciously, she adjusted her glasses and ran her fingers across her notebook.

“Writing is a good distraction,” she tapped the worn cover.

Butch softly laughed, and she realized his hand had moved to rest against hers. Their knuckles brushed with the contact, the heat of his skin radiating up her arm. Rosie resisted the urge to overreact, steadying herself—she really needed to get a grip of her feelings quickly if they were going to continue living under the same roof, let alone continue to travel together.

“A good distraction is a drink,” he suggested. With his other hand he gutted his thumb over his shoulder. “Moriarty’s is still open. Two of us could get a nightcap in, whadd’ya say?”

For starters, she didn’t drink, and Butch knew that. But that certainly didn’t stop him from persisting on occasion, wondering when she’d drop the goodie-two-shoes act. They weren’t living in the vault anymore and didn’t have to follow some Overseer’s rules about abstaining from alcohol while underage. Matter of fact, they didn’t have to abstain from a lot of things—Rosie decided to not let her mind wander. Secondly, she wondered if he knew the implications or innuendo behind what he said—likely not—she blushed, thinking maybe she had read into his words instead.

“No thank you, Butch,” she declined politely, smiling at his overdramatic pout. “I appreciate the offer, even if you should’ve anticipated my answer.” She made to glance at her wrist for the time when she realized she wasn’t wearing her Pip Boy, the device left on her nightstand. Butch wasn’t wearing his either.

“It’s late,” she continued, guessing it had to be early morning. “A better idea is for you to go to sleep.”

He shook his head, leaning closer. “I ain’t goin’ to sleep unless you are too.”

“You are stubborn,” Rosie sighed, allowing a tiny smile to pull at the corner of her lips.

Butch smirked. “So are you.”

He shifted, pushing himself off the couch to stand before offering his hand to her. She gripped it, allowing him to hoist her upright even though she was perfectly capable of doing so herself. The two stood there for a lingering moment, hands gripped just staring at one another and Rosie thought back to just a few weeks earlier when they had been slow dancing in that very spot—how she had imagined what it would be like if they kissed. She wouldn’t dare to make that kind of bold move and there was no rational part of her mind that convinced her that Butch wanted any such thing—even if he didn’t seem eager to let go of her hand.

He nodded his head towards the stairs, and she followed his lead, glancing down at their clasped hands as they walked. Butch didn’t’ release his grip until they were outside their adjacent doors, turning to face her with a grin.

“Remember what I said,” he gestured to the journal tucked under her arm before moving his hand up to brush against her forehead. It was hard to tell if it was affectionate or playful. “Try not to worry that pretty lil’ head of yours.”

Rosie felt her cheeks go warm, and desperately tried to think of a witty comeback but the silence had stretched on for too long. She was destined to always be the quiet, fumbling nerd. Except now it was made much worse with her seemingly unrequited crush. She offered a tiny smile. “Goodnight, Butch.”

He returned the expression in kind, leaning against his doorway as he watched her shut herself away behind the closed door. “Goodnight, Rosie.”

[yeet-or-be-hawed]

Hunters of Flesh and Money: Part 3

Trelawny has another job for you, but this job comes with a familiar comrade. 

Arthur Morgan x Reader

“Shit,” You sighed as you dropped the corpse back down to the ground. Nine cents was all the poor bastard had. With a wipe of the brow you lifted the body and threw it into Flat Iron Lake, it will wash ashore in a couple of days but by then it would be impossible to track down the culprit. If there was one constant in your work it was your thoroughness.

With a sharp whistle, Garbanzo flew around the bend. When you reached into your pocket for your handkerchief you audibly cursed. It was lost somewhere between here and Roanoak Ridge so you washed your gloves and arms best you could in the lake. The water was warm and murky, not ideal for cleaning.

Garbanzo rested his head against your shoulder and you dried your hands to give him a pat. “Sun’s still high,” You said to the big horse. “Think we got time to go visit our old friend?”

The horse did not respond, but it really wasn’t up to him. Lemoyne was hot as ever, your clothes stuck to every inch of skin they touched and left you feeling sticky and uncomfortable. The smell of body odor was wafting into your nostrils with every gallop, maybe it was time for a bath. As you approached the center of town, you paused. Trelawny was still staying in his caravan north of Rhodes, it wouldn’t take long to meet him.

As you entered the saloon, you were greeted by the same old saloon gals, they were always happy to see you- it wasnt often they were paid in money and pleasure. Your favorite girl, a young blond waved at your from atop the spiral staircase. “Hey honey,” she called. “You here for me?”

You laughed, “not tonight sweetheart,” you placed a coin on the bar and slid it to the owner. “Just a bath today.”

The man behind the counter nodded, “Sylvia will have it ready for ya, you know where to go.”

You nodded, “Thanks Pete.”

Rhodes had become your semi-permanent home, as much as it bothered you to stay in once place for too long Sadie’s company was enough to keep you grounded. You would meet her at the saloon regularly, she would tell you about he people she rode with and you would tell her about the jobs you had been taking. She would bring up Arthur often, you tried not to linger on the subject. You hadn’t seen him since the night he came and checked on you and Trelawny after the whole kidnapping incident. You had made the mistake of admitting to Sadie he was a handsome man and she wouldn’t let you live it down since. She seemed to think you were a perfect match but the thought of being intimate with another person was scary. You had only loved once, and it ended with her being put six feet under because of you. When you needed a fix, saloon girls and random strangers at the bar were enough. It was safer for the men and women you slept with to remain anonymous, for their own good.

You couldn’t help the sigh of pleasure as you slipped your body into the warm water. The bubbles tickled your nostrils as you submerged yourself. It had been far too long since your last bath, you made a mental note to do this more often. As you began scrubbing your head, there was a gentle knock on the door. “Need some help, darlin’?”

You smiled at the beautiful blonde headed woman. “Well now, you know I cain’t deny you Ms. Sylvia.”

She giggled as she dipped her hands into the water, “it’s been so long since you called for me I reckoned you forgot bout me.”

“Forget bout you? Never.” Her hands glided across your arms and you melted under her touch. “I just been busy, you know me always gettin’ into somethin’.”

“Well, at least make an effort to come in for a bath every once ‘n a while, you’re covered in dirt head to toe!” Her hands moved down your back and rubbed slowly. Her lips were close to your ear now as she whispered, “you’re mighty tense honey, you sure you don’t want a bed for the night? No charge.”

She placed the softest of kisses behind your ear and you inhaled sharply. “No charge, huh?”

“That’s right.” Her lips were moving down your neck now.

“Well, who could deny that? I think I’m all clean now.”

You started to pull yourself from the tub and she pushed you back down with a soft chuckle, “not yet you ain’t, no need to be impatient, we got all night.”

You couldn’t refuse that, so you relaxed under her nimble fingers. Trelawny could wait until tomorrow.

The beams from the morning sun poured in the window and woke you. Sylvia was already gone, slipped out after you passed out. It was better this way, it was too dangerous to get attached. You stared at the ceiling as you puffed a cigarette, in your twenties these flings were nothing, but now? Now you just felt tired. Strangers and night women didn’t fill the void like they used to, with age the hole in your chest grew wider and wider. But this life doesn’t allow a family, doesn’t allow the deeper vulnerability that comes with love. Not without a price, and you had already paid it once.

You stretched and pulled yourself from the bed. Your clothes were scattered about the floor and you yawned as you retrieved them. “Shit,” you whispered as you fummed with the buttons on your shirt; the last button had popped off in the frenzy of lusting hands. You examined yourself in the mirror, your clothes were worn and dusty. Little holes were beginning to wear in the arm pits of your shirt. The closest tailor was in Saint Denis, and god did you hate it there. It would almost be worth the ride all the way to Blackwater just to avoid the congested city. But that would have to wait, you needed money.

The downside to staying so close to town for the sake of your old friend was the lack of animals around Rhodes. Sure there were plenty of deer- whitetails and pronghorn a plenty but you lived for big game. Elk, bears, cougars- that was what gave you the thrill and most importantly they were the big money makers. Maybe after you get done with Trelawny you would write to Sadie and let her know you were heading North West for a couple of weeks. Surely she would be safe with the others. You felt silly, of course she would be safe they saved her when she needed them most. This gave you a pang of guilt, had you been there for her when she needed you, maybe Jake would still be alive right now and maybe she wouldn’t look like a dead woman walking. A part of you wanted to stick around, but you couldn’t revolve your life around her and she wouldn’t want you to.

When you exited the saloon, you headed for the stable. Garbanzo whinnied excitedly when he saw you enter. The man working the stable looked up from grooming his horse. “Take it you’re here for pick up?”

You nodded. He pointed lazily towards the stall. “It’s unlocked, you can go ahead and grab ‘em.” He stood. “That’s one well behaved horse ya got there.”

You gave him a pat, “that’s my beanie boy.” You turned to the stable hand. “You damn right, best horse I ever had.”

You paid the stable hand well and led the hulking horse outside. The morning sun was rising steadily and the heat rose by the minute. As you rode to the bundle of caravans, you tried to remain in as much shade as possible; the midsummer heat was damn near unbearable.

When you approached, Trelawny was in his same spot reading his same book. He looked up as you dismounted. “Ah, hello old friend!”

“Hey there Trelawny. Looks like yer bout done with that book there.”

“Ah yes,” he folded down the page and closed it. “I assume you aren’t here to discuss literature.”

You chuckled and rubbed your neck, “naw, but I’ll always listen. Used to be a reader myself before I got in knee deep with the law.”

He extended the book to you, “here take it, that is if you’re still literate.”

You waved your hands in denial, “You ain’t gotta do that, I could pick up a book next time I find one.”

“But I insist! I’ve read this one so many times I know what the next word is before I read it.” His tone turned solemn. “Please, take it. Think of it as a small payment for my eternal debt to you.”

You scratched your nose as you took the book. “Thank you, Josiah. I’ll be sure to read it.” You leaned against the railing of the small porch. “You got anything for me to do today?”

“Ah yes,” he straightened in his seat. “You’re an avid hunter, yes?”

You looked at the pile of furs on your horse and turned back to Trelawny with a smirk. “Guess you could say that.”

“Well how do you feel about hunting down some wolves?”

You spat on the ground. “Shit, I’ll kill anything worth killin’.”

He nodded, “good, good. A farmer down at Bolger Glade is paying well for the skins of the wolves who have taken a liking to his farm. Says they’ve been eating up his livestock.”

With a nod you mounted your horse. “Sounds like my kinda job. Ain’t far from here neither. I’ll come back when I get done if it ain’t too late.”

“I look forward to your return.”

You tipped your hat to him and you were off. Trelawny watched you disappear over the horizon. Something was nagging him, he immediately felt uneasy about sending you by yourself.

You frowned at the bloodied corpse. He sure looked like a farmer, with a grimace you wondered if there would be anyone to pay you. Well, if anything the butch will pay well for the furs. The tracks were a winding mess and the farther you followed, the more evident it was this was more than a couple of lone wolves. You clutches your rifle tight, a wolf can be taken down easily with one shot but with this many you were beginning to feel uneasy.

You followed the tracks to a pile of bones, covered in teeth marks. You counted at least four sets of tracks. Nothing you hadn’t dealt with before, you inhaled then exhaled deeply. As you stood, the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. As you turned you heard the snarl. Coming on you fast we’re three big grey wolves. You backed away as you put a bullet in the skull of the first. As you reloaded, you whistled for your horse. The second wolf was almost on you when you shot it clean between the eyes. The third followed right behind, hardly giving you time to reload. It knocked you to the ground, but not before you pressed the gun to its chest and fired. Luckily it only knocked you to the ground, no blood was shed. Your eyes studied the woods around you, one more wolf was left, that you were certain. You whistled again, where was Garbanzo?

You turned around to search, the big animal didn’t scare easily but wolves were one of the few exceptions. He was on the far side of the field, trotting wearily towards you. Another growl from behind you drew your attention back to the woods. It was fast, but not fast enough. You had already reloaded and the wolf was making a beeline straight for you, an easy kill. A single bullet and the wolf fell forward. With another look around, you finally allowed yourself to relax. As you began skinning the first wolf, Garbanzo trotted up behind you. When you loaded the skin, you gave him a pat. Most of the pelts were quite perfect, except the one that knocked you to your feet. You frowned at the poor pelt as you examined it before stowing it.

The last wolf was the farthest away, lying just on the edge of the wood. You wiped the sweat from your brow and skinned the wolf quickly. It was afternoon now and the heat was sweltering. As you slid your knife along the spine of the wolf, Garbanzo whinnied. “I’m bout done, ‘Banzo just hold on.”

A branch snapped behind you, you looked up in time to see the huge black wolf mid-jump. Before you could react, it’s claws were in your back. You threw your elbow back hard and knocked it to the ground. Your rifle was back on the horse, you drew your knife. In order to time it right, you would have to make a risky move and allow yourself to act as bait. You crouched low to the ground as the wolf circled you, you circled with it so it couldn’t pounce your back again. With a snarl and a bark it charged. Lightning fast, the wolf was on top of you, one arm held up above your body to protect yourself, the other plunged the knife through the wolf’s jaw. You winced as you pushed the dead weight off you. When you touched your back, you could feel where the wolf’s claws tore through your shirt. Your hand was covered in blood. It’s hind claws tore through your pant leg on your thigh, leaving angry red scratches. Luckily for you, it didn’t break skin.

You quickly loaded the big black wolf into your horse, better to find a safe place to skin it than risk a run in with another wolf. Mounting Garbanzo, you pushed him hard back to Trelawny’s caravan.

You arrived back early evening, you couldn’t feel the blood trickling down your back anymore so you assumed it had stopped bleeding. You had used all your bandaging last week, you prayed Trelawny had some. As you approached, you saw another man standing on the porch talking with Trelawny. Those broad shoulders looked familiar, when he turned you recognized him.

“Howdy fellers,” you greeted the men as you hitched your horse.

“Howdy,” Arthur repeated back with a wave.

Trelawny stood, “Ah, hello my dear girl! Seems as though those wolves didn’t give up much a fight.”

You chuckled lightly and turned and pointed to your back. “Well, I wouldn’t say that.”

Trelawny inhaled sharply, Arthur took two long strides and inspected your back thoroughly, “Shit, you okay?”

You weren’t used to physical contact with other people, his soft prodding hands made you feel uncomfortable but you didn’t shift from under them. “I’ll be fine, may need some new clothes though.” You turned back to face them and looked pointedly down at the gashes in your pants. “I’d say these are done for.”

Trelawny chuckled. “I would be inclined to agree. It’s about time, I thought you’d be in those rags til the day you died.”

You shrugged, “probably. You got any spare bandage I can borrow? Pretty sure the bleeding stopped, just don’t want it to get infected.”

Trelawny frowned, “I’m afraid not my dear.”

You sighed, “guess I could shred this shirt for bandage-“

Arthur interrupted, pulling a roll of bandage and a bottle of whiskey from his satchel. “I gotcha. Sit on down.”

You sat on the crate in front of the fire, his big hands gently pulled the shirt up above the claw marks without revealing your chest. “This okay?” He asked.

You just nodded, his rough hands were surprisingly gentle. You winced in pain as he poured whiskey in the gashes. “Sorry.” He whispered.

“S’ okay.”

He made quick work dressing the wound. You were glad to be facing away from him, his touch filled your brain with static and sent a wave of heat across your face. It was very strange, you didn’t know how to feel about it. When he finished, he pulled your shirt back down and gave you a pat on the shoulder. “Yer good.”

You stood and nodded to him, “Thanks.”

Trelawny cleared his throat, “You wouldn’t happen to be feeling up for another job would you?”

You scratched your head, “depends, does it involve wolves?”

Trelawny laughed heartily. “No, not at all. It should be very easy for you, I just need you and Mr. Morgan here to deliver some supplies.” He scratched his nose. “It really needs to be delivered to Emerald Ranch before sun down. I’m sure Arthur here can handle it on his own though if you aren’t-“

“Nah, I can do it.” You said as you stood. “Emerald Ranch ain’t too far from here anyways, long as there ain’t no distractions we should be able to get there ‘fore night fall.”

“Wonderful!” Trelawny exclaimed. “The wagon is just behind that caravan there.” He pointed past the neighboring shack. “Hurry along now, you’re losing time!”

“Yeah, yeah we’re goin’.” You rolled your eyes as you hitched your horse. “Well be back soon now, ya hear?” He responded with a huff.

“You ready?” Arthur asked as you joined him beside the fire. You nodded.

As you turned Trelawny called back, “be careful this time! You won’t get paid if you wreck the wagon again!”

Arthur smirked, “Again?”

You crossed your arms and your lips pulled into a mischievous grin. “Ain’t never quite got the hang of wagons, always try and go too fast around corners.” You scratched your chin, “come to think of it, I don’t think Trelawny’s given me a delivery job in months. Not since I almost killed myself crashin’ a wagon full a dynamite.”

Arthur laughed as he climbed up the wagon. “No offense, but I think I’d be more comfortable if I drove.”

“None taken,” you said as you took your seat beside him. You pulled your shot gun off your shoulder and into your lap. “And no offense to you Mr. Morgan, but I think I’m better suited as the strong arm anyways.”

His brows flew into his hairline as he scoffed, “I dunno bout that one.” His tone went to a more joking manner. “‘Sides, I’d say my arms are stronger than yours.”

With his free arm he flexed with a goofy smile. He did indeed have very nice arms. You cleared your throat and mirrored his flex. “What’s that phrase, bout the size of the ship?”

He laughed, “It ain’t the size of the ship, it’s the motion of the ocean?” Another laugh. “Guess there’s some truth behind that.”

You giggled, “you seem pretty familiar with the phrase, you use it a lot for compensation?”

Arthur’s face turned bright red and he began to stammer when your eyes glanced pointedly at his trousers. “No-“ he started, more defensive than he meant to sound. “No, I don’t think I got much to worry bout in that department.” His tone sounded more smug.

You chuckled, “Good on you, Mr. Morgan.”

“I ain’t never cared for the whole Mr. This and Ms. That, ya know.”

“Sorry, Mr.” You cut yourself off. “Sorry Arthur.” You looked up at the sky. “Ain’t much stuck with me as far as manners go, ain’t quite sure why but that’s just bout the only thing I remember my parents tellin’ me.”

“You ain’t gotta apologize, I understand.” He scratched his chin in thought. “Guess I don’t really remember much a what my ma tried ta teach me. Ma daddy ain’t never taught me much more than to be a thief.” He turned back to you, “Is Fletcher yer real name?”

“Is Tacitus Kilgore yours?”

“Fair enough. But you know my real name.”

You returned his gaze. “Ain’t nothin’ to a name. Just another word people use to talk boutcha behind yer back.”

He nodded, “Ain’t quite thought of it that way.”

You nodded and a silence fell over the ride. The bench seat of the wagon was terribly short. Arthur’s thigh was pressed against yours and with every tremble of the wagon you could feel his body against yours. You kept your eyes forward and tried to ignore the static in your brain. As the sun fell behind the trees, the sky was filled with bright orange and red, the clouds were pink and lilac. As your eyes wandered, you caught Arthur rubbing a bald spot on his chin. “That a scar?”

Your question seemed to pull him from his trance like thoughts. “Huh?”

“On your chin there,” you pointed to it. “Is it a scar?”

“Oh, yeah.” He smoothed the hair around his chin line as he spoke. “Got thrown off a horse one day and got skidded up pretty bad. Took a nice little chunk outta my chin and sprained my wrist.” He nodded to the scar that ran across your right cheek. “What bout you?”

“Cougar, our near Strawberry back in ‘88. First time huntin’ a big cat.” You chuckled, “learned the hard way to never leave your back open, and always pack one of these.” You dug in your satchel and pulled out a mask. Arthur laughed, it wasn’t pretty that’s for sure. It was nothing more than a thick parchment with a crude face and strings that tied in the back. The artwork was terrible, but Arthur would never say it. “What in the hell is that gonna do?”

“Well,” You said as you tied the mask to the back of your head. “Met a man from India years back, he said their cats back home are even bigger than cougars. I didn’t really believe him, but he showed me a picture in a book. Looks like a mean son of a bitch. He said his people made masks to wear on the back of their heads, keeps ‘em from sneakin’ up behind ya.” You turned your head to show Arthur the mask, “don’t even have to be a good lookin’ one, as long as it has a face.”

Arthur was stunned, “and that really works?”

You nodded, “ain’t had one jump me from behind since.”

“Amazing” he whispered.

You nodded and put the mask away. “Learned a lotta tricks of the trade in my years. Makin’ money off the land can be just as deadly as makin’ money off the people.” You lifted your shirt to reveal a round scar above your stomach. “Got too close to a Whitetail Buck during mating season. Always thought I’d get pummeled by a bison or eaten by a bear before I got stabbed by a damn deer.”

Arthur averted his eyes from your skin quickly, even on your stomach you were riddled with scars. It reminded him of his own body, a body he always thought was grotesque and ugly because of his scars. So why didn’t he find your scars so horrible to look at? He didn’t want to find the answer. He coughed, “looks like we’re bout there.” He paused for a moment then brought his spare hand to his brow and squinted towards the horizon. “Hold on a minute, we may have company. You got that shotgun loaded?”

You gave it a solid pump. ���Always.”

He kept his eyes on the horsemen ahead. The path went up a small hill and at the very top, two men were stationary on their horse; that’s always a suspicious sign. As the wagon approached, Arthur could clearly see the men were holding guns. “Yep,” he sighed. “Definitely got some company. Keep a level head, if they let us clear we-“

You had also examined the horsemen on the hill, you had also noticed the guns. Whether they were waiting for this wagon or not, their presence was not welcome by you. You stood and pulled the rifle from your back. Arthur’s eyes were trained on the men ahead and he was saying something, but you weren’t listening. You lined up your sights and landed a perfect headshot.

Arthur jumped in surprise to the loud pop of the gun. He watched as the first man fell. “What the hell are you doin’?”

As you lowered your gun to reload, the second man barreled down the trail, accompanied by six other men who appeared from the trees. You lined back up for another shot, “Ambushin’ them before they ambush us.”

“Shit!” Arthur cursed as your gun let out another loud shot. He began to pull out his pistol. You switched your rifle back out for the shot gun as the men approached firing range. “Just keep drivin’! I can take care a these guys you just make sure we get there in time!”

Arthur watched as your slugs blew back one body after another. He nodded and whipped the reins hard. Luckily for you, Arthur was a master driver; he maneuvered the wagon off the path and around trees and shrubs as you tore through the pursuers. Arthur hit a small rock and the bump almost threw you off the side, you let out a small yell before a big hand caught your wrist and pulled you back down on the bench seat. You nodded a quick thanks to Arthur before turning back and delivering the final blow. You kept an eye on your surroundings before finally relaxing and turning back to the front. “Okay, think we’re clear.”

Arthur nodded. “Just in time.” He pointed and just over the rolling hills of the Heartlands you saw the towering windmill of Emerald Ranch. Arthur pulled the wagon into the barn just as the sun was turning to a sliver over the horizon.

“Didn’t think you’d make it.” The man in the barn said as he handed Arthur a stack of cash.

He nodded, “wasn’t quite sure we would.”

“Have a good one!” He farm hand called as the two of you exited the barn.

Arthur silently counted the money and handed you half. He let out a sharp whistle. After a few minutes and a handful of whistles, a beautiful white Arabian came appeared from beyond the horizon. You turned to Arthur, “we not takin’ the wagon back to Trelawny?”

“Naw, it’s their wagon. I take it to load up and bring it back.”

“Shit, I left Banzo with Trelawny. There’s no way he’d hear me if I whistled for him.” You rubbed your neck and cursed again. “Guess I could rob the next unfortunate soul I see of their steed.”

Arthur mounted the horse, “ain’t no need for that,” he offered you his hand. “I can take ya back.”

You eyed the tiny horse suspiciously, Arthur looked huge on the little thing. “I dunno Arthur, that’s one tiny horse ya got there.”

He rolled his eyes, “not all of us ride mammoths, you know.”

You took his arm and he pulled you up, “What did you just call my horse?” You wrapped your arms around his waist and frowned. “Jesus Arthur, this is a child’s pony! Next real horse I see I’ll nab for ya.”

He chuckled, “I thank ya, but this ol’ girl is good enough for me.” He patted her neck. “Strong gal, this one is.” He paused. “Bet she could beat your ol boy in a race any day.”

You scoffed, “I’m sure she could, Garbanzo isn’t meant to be fast, he’s meant to be strong. He’s meant to be fearless.”

“You sure love that horse, don’t ya?”

You rolled your eyes, “course I do, don’t you?”

He smiled, “yeah, I do. They really are somethin’ aren’t they?”

You nodded. “Loyal, beautiful, strong creatures. Everything we’re supposed to be. A horse has never lied to me, or killed someone I love. A horse has never betrayed me or sold me out. A perfect companion.”

Arthur nodded, “couldn’t agree with you more.”

By the time you arrived back to Trelawny’s humble abode, the moon was high and the crickets and cicadas were singing. He was no longer in his usual spot on the porch and the lamp inside was turned off.

“Probably asleep.” Arthur whispered as he peeked inside. “Yep, definitely asleep.”

“Good thing we already got paid.”

He nodded. A strange quiet fell between the two of you, not awkward or uncomfortable but not familiar either. You rubbed your arm uncomfortably and cleared your throat. “I should uh, I should go.”

Arthur stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded. “Me too.”

You unhitched Garbanzo and as you passed Arthur you tipped your hat, he returned the gesture. It wasn’t a long ride back to your camp, when you arrived you crashed into your bedroll immediately. That night you dreamed of a familiar feeling you had long forgotten.

[artlessictoan]

this one’s actually a request I got on the ao3 version of this drabble collection, butch!sak/tomboy!hina coffe shop au! and is this the first coffee shop au I’ve ever done?? I think it might be!

(requests open)

(ao3 mirror)

---

It had been a long morning and Hinata desperately needed caffeine.

She’d had to wake up hellishly early – which might’ve been fine if she hadn’t been up until three in the morning desperately trying to finish her thesis in time for her first class – then spent almost an hour being jerked around by the aggressively indifferent receptionist of her school’s laboratory, before learning that the time she had booked for her vital preliminary experiments, had in fact been given to another student and the next available slot wasn’t until the end of the week. Handily throwing a wrench in her entire year’s calendar that she would be trying to work around for months to come.

And, on top of all that, the heavens had opened up the second she stepped outside, releasing several days’ worth of water all at once, leaving her to trudge home through a downpour, or hang out in the waiting room of the lab until it passed.

With the smirking receptionist, who she was too polite to tell to fuck himself, but who she dearly hoped would suffer several minor inconveniences for the rest of the day.

She chose the cold, wet walk instead.

Perhaps it had been a mistake, she could probably have found an empty classroom to quietly study in for an hour or so if she’d tried, but with her mind only lightly tethered to reality in her current state, it was more likely she would’ve just had a cry-nap instead.

It wouldn’t be the first time, but if a lecturer found her like that again, someone was bound to try and contact her father to inform him of her struggles, and he would wield that knowledge like a sledgehammer against her dreams of a career of her own; one without constant parental oversight and criticism.

She was absolutely not going to let that happen. Right now, however, what mattered most was getting out of the rain.

Squinting against the water running off the hood of her coat, she searched for somewhere – anywhere – that she could duck into and while away the time until her next lecture in a few hours. When she spotted a small café tucked away between a derelict bookstore and a corner shop that proudly called itself ‘Cheap-mart’ she didn’t care how dingy it looked, she just threw open the doors and shook herself off like a dog the second she was inside.

The barista leaning against the counter with his head in his hand glanced up at her; she offered him an awkward smile as she tried to brush down her damp hair. He returned with his own smile, one somehow even more awkward than her own, but straightened up and waved her over.

“Welcome, what can I get for you today?”

She didn’t bother to peruse the blackboards painted up behind him. “Black coffee, thank you.” Definitely not a drink that fit her usual tastes – she was more of a tea person – but she was about five seconds from collapsing on the cold, hard floor and wanted as little diluting the terrible, life-giving substance as possible.

If she’d had a syringe with her, she would have injected it directly into her bloodstream.

“Can I interest you in something to eat?” he asked, voice robotic and smile unnaturally fixed in place. “A sandwich, perhaps even one of our homemade cakes?”

The word ‘cake’ immediately caught her fraying attention and she stared into the glass display to scrutinise the options available with the same keen eye she would use for chemical analysis. It was actually quite impressive how… unappetizing they all looked; sponges were wonky, frosting looked like it had been applied with a slingshot, one was painted in the garish colours of a toddler given free reign of the crayon box and they had apparently all been cut with a chainsaw, she had no other explanation for the crumbling edges and uneven slices.

“I’ll have the coffee and walnut.” She glanced back outside, noting that the storm didn’t look like it would be passing any time soon and she had already skipped breakfast. “Actually, make that two slices.”

Dark eyes blinked at her in pure shock, before the man wordlessly fulfilled her order, only breaking his silence to tell her the cost and exchange cash.

She barely noticed, taking her plate and her cup and her sopping bag, she stumbled to the nearest table and sank down into the wooden chair like it was a plush, feather pillow. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the barista slipping through a door that presumably led to a kitchen; she might’ve found that a bit unprofessional, if it weren’t for the fact that she was literally the only customer in right now.

As she gulped down half of her coffee – grimacing at the taste, but pushing through it regardless – she wondered if the place was always this quiet. Sure, it was a little out of the way and if she hadn’t been looking for somewhere to escape the weather, she probably wouldn’t have noticed it was even there, but it had a stylish interior, wall painted with abstract ink patterns and rustic furniture.

And, when she shoved a generous forkful of cake into her mouth, she had to wonder even more about how a café with such incredible goods had flown so completely under the radar.

She literally closed her eyes and moaned.

Her fatigue was completely forgotten as she eagerly shovelled another mouthful between her lips, then another, and another. She was onto the second slice in about thirty seconds.

“Holy shit, I didn’t actually believe it…”

Hinata glanced up, absolutely no clue who would be disturbing her mid-meal and, even if her mouth hadn’t been full of soft, melting deliciousness, she probably wouldn’t have been able to say anything.

The short, stocky woman, with arms practically bursting out of the sleeves of her chef’s jacket – which presumably had been white at one point, but was now littered with so many stains in basically every conceivable colour that it was basically tie-dye – pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down heavily, crossing her arms on the table and leaning forwards with a slight frown. “Someone actually bought a cake.”

She was still chewing and had to wash down her bite with a generous gulp of coffee, just to respond.

“Huh?”

Very eloquent. Her father would be proud.

“No one buys the cake, we get about fifteen customers a day, I would remember someone buying the cake before-” she jerked a thumb in the direction of the barista leaning boredly against the counter “-Sai was so shocked he immediately came into the kitchen to tell me about it.”

That a customer actually choosing to eat the food on offer was such an anomaly that the chef had to come out of the kitchen, just to see if it was true, was a damning report on the state of their business. “Really?” she asked, looking down at the slice on her plate. “I can’t imagine why, it’s delicious.”

Dark brows narrowed over her green, green eyes. “Are you making fun of me? Did my mother send you here? Are you an EHO?” The woman was standing up now, leaning ever further into her personal space, flour-covered hands steady on either side of the table. With her face only a few inches away, Hinata could pick out individual pores on her nose and several old, faded scars. “I assure you; all my paperwork is up to date,” she said slowly, in such a low, threatening tone that left Hinata less assured than ever before.

She waved her hands in front of her face and backed away as far as the chair would let her. “I don’t’ know what that means and I came here on my own, I just… really like the cake?”

The speed at which the chef’s entire demeanour switched left Hinata feeling a little dizzy. Suddenly her bright eyes were sparkling and she had a wide, toothy grin stretching across her face as she asked, “For real? Even though it looks like absolute dogshit?”

“Well, as long as it tastes good, I don’t think the appearance really matters that much.” A statement easily reinforced by the fact that she was wearing an old, faded hoodie and some leggings she’d technically bought just for the gym, but were so comfortable that they’d wormed their way into her everyday wardrobe anyway.

Also, she was still soaked through and probably looked like a bedraggled cat, but she was trying to ignore that right now.

“Finally, someone who appreciates my genius!” Slapping a hand against the table hard enough to make it rock on its uneven legs, she turned around to shout at her co-worker, “You hear that Sai?”

“As glad as I am to have a satisfied customer, I would point you to the forty-seven other slices of cake that have been consistently rejected by everyone else who’s come in today.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but Hinata got the feeling that he really was trying his best. “You can’t decorate cakes for shit and no one wants to eat them.”

The scoff and dramatic rolling of eyes suggested that this was a regular argument for these two. “Ignore him, he just thinks that he’s a better artist than me-”

“I am an objectively better artist than you.”

“Anyway-” she displayed a middle finger at him over her shoulder, all while keeping her gaze fixed on Hinata “-I’m really glad you like the cake, I know my presentation’s a bit… rough, but I know what tastes good, just wish more people would give it a chance.”

Hinata had to give a wobbly smile at the woman’s childish pout; ohhh she was in trouble. “You do have a talent for flavour, I must admit,” she said, “I think this is the best coffee cake I’ve ever had.”

“Right? I’ve been playing around with some ideas for new recipes- actually wait here a sec, I’ll go cut you off some samples.” She was charging through the door leading to the kitchen before Hinata could object, but, looking at the rain still hammering down against the windows and taking another bite of beautifully soft cake… she could think of worse ways to spend an afternoon than being fed a selection of baked goods by an incredibly handsome woman with biceps that could probably crush steel.

Maybe she could even come up with an excuse to touch them. Just to satisfy her scientific curiosity.

---

By the time the rain had settled down to a slow drizzle, she had completely forgotten everything that led her to the café in the first place, so distracted was she by chatting to the charmingly exuberant chef – who was called Sakura, she quickly learned.

They had shared several slices of experimental cakes and, while none of them looked very pretty, Hinata had been blow away by the taste each and every time.

If her alarm hadn’t started buzzing insistently, she would’ve happily spent the whole day getting lost in sugar and soft pink hair and distractingly shifting muscles and a boisterous, snorting laugh that had absolutely no right being as cute as she found it. Alas, she still had classes that she could not afford to skip and she really shouldn’t keep Sakura from her work for any longer. Even if she didn’t seem to have much to do.

As she gathered her things and pulled on her coat, she glanced down at the woman with a soft smile. “Thank you for all the wonderful food, and conversation.” She rummaged through her bag and drew out her wallet, dropping a few notes in the tip jar as she passed. One benefit to coming from a wealthy family, she afford to be very generous.

Sai grinned at her, slapping a hand over Sakura’s mouth before she could object to the payment – and judging from the look in her bright eyes, that was almost certainly what she was planning.

Rolling her eyes as she pushed his hand away, she leaned over the counter to grin widely at Hinata. “Please, come again!”

“Yes, and bring friends with you next time, as you can see, we’re pretty desperate for business.”

“Idiot, don’t tell that to the customers!” Sakura yelled, slapping a hand to her forehead hard enough to leave a red mark there.

He gave her a Look. “It’s advertising.”

“No, it’s desperation, you better not have been telling that to everyone who comes in here.”

“Are we not desperate?” He asked, voice completely even and reasonable. “Do I have to show you our account books again? Maybe you should focus on trying to find a cake decorating course, before you start criticising me.”

Hinata laughed softly to herself, but not quietly enough that she didn’t catch the attention of both workers. She smiled at the pair, marvelling at their bizarre friendship that she wouldn’t mind seeing a bit more of. “I’ll tell everyone I know that the food here is delicious and they need to come try it-” she glanced at Sakura, who was almost glowing at the compliment, and had to duck her head to hide her blush “-and I live pretty close by, I’m sure I’ll be coming in here a lot more too.”

Before she could rush out of the doors, a voice called out to her, “Hey, what’s your favourite kind of cake? I wanna make it for the next time you come here.”

She stopped and had to take several calming breaths before turning around. “Anything with cinnamon,” she said, not wanting to give herself too much hope, but unable to deny the rush of excitement fizzing through her veins at the thought of spending more time – much more time – with the wonderful, strange, charming baker.

Sakura nodded, eyes already sparking with ideas. “Alright, I’ll make you something amazing, you better come back to taste it soon!”

“I will,” she said, stepping out into the damp afternoon, feeling lighter than air and ready to take on the whole world.

---

[facetiousfanatic]

ROSE

First impression

The first time I read Act1 was a blur. I had no idea what was happening and it wasnt until I had read Problem Sleuth that I actually got into the flow of it all and started realising what I was reading. So my first impression of Rose was [BLANK] lmao

Impression now

My interpretation of what Rose looks like is probably the most open of all the kids. I have At Least 7 different versions of her in my head and they’re all equally valid! Like most people my first interpretation was skinny, pale and feminine but the more fancontent I consumed the more it started to lean towards large, soft, black and butch. My current favorite is her dressing more feminine before the game, but then getting a buzzcut and wearing more slacks on the meteor. @floralmarsupial and @official-spec both have great Roses >:3c

Favorite moment

Dave and Rose’s earliest pesterlogs are still some of the best dialogues in the entirety of homestuck, and this specific one? God tier humor (pun intended).

Idea for a story

I’ve mentioned how I dont relate nearly as much to rosemary as I do to davekat but I only think thats cause davekat writers know how to push my damn buttons. If someone could write or recommend a rosemary fic that has that brutal slow burn pining I love so much I would die. I’m talking paragraph after paragraph just describing every single physical and emotional sensation taking place in the ten seconds leading up to their first kiss. I dont want dates or confessions or courtship of any kind!!! I want unspoken and excruciating romantic tension building until they snap under the pressure of wanting to kiss each other so bad they just collide like the touch-starved lesbians they both are!!! We all know they have the potential. The idea that Kanaya Maryam and Rose Lalonde are the refined and put-together socialites they pretend to be is SLANDER and needs to be Put In The Garbage Where It Belongs. Have yall READ homestuck??? Kanaya is easily the most awkard gay mess of any of the trolls, and rose cant have a genuine conversation free of manipulation and twists to save her goddamned life. Please show me a fic that accurately depicts this I am S T A R V I N G.

Unpopular opinion

This is apparently controversial in some parts of this fandom (hopefully the old, dead part), but to me Rose will always be a lesbian. I am bi, and I headcanon like half the cast of hs as bisexual, but imagining Rose ever being attracted to men feels wildly out of character and seeing her shipped with men makes me super uncomfy. I tried to be a little open-minded when I read that last fic I got recommended to me (it was very good), but every part that described Rose being attracted to Sollux ripped me out of my immersion like nobodys business.

Favorite relationship

I really want to say Kanaya but I have to be basic and say Dave. Gotta follow my heart. I hate sidelining wlw relationships as much as the next guy but the strilonde quadrouple just owns my ass!! Rose/roxy, dave/dirk, dave/roxy, rose/dirk are all SO interesting to me (all platonic obv, if you ship that shit I will stomp you to death with my hooves). Especially Rose/Dirk like The Possibilities with that combo?? The epilogues robbed us of the ultimate (again, pun intended) combo and for that I will never forgive them.

Favorite headcanon

Earth C still having SBURBs mechanics with Rose and Roxy in a Monster Factorian fashion trying to fuck with the system. Cheat codes, abusing their ability to die and respawn, clipping through the planet etc. etc. I dont know how to find the posts but fuck dudes that shit is solid GOLD

[bluepenguinstories]

Happiness Overload Chapter Forty-Six

I approached the door with hesitation. After all, it was the first time I've delivered a pizza before. But I thought it would be neat to try something new so when I spotted the pizza delivery guy park the car by the curb, I approached and asked if I could try delivering a pizza. So, that's that. Up some stairs above a convenience store (neat complex), right outside the apartment door.

Gee, I sure hope whoever ordered this pizza turns out to be nice. I've heard stories about how tough customer service could be.

Sure, those were my thoughts, but I already had a good idea who I would see.

Once the door opened, I stood face to face with someone I didn't expect to ever see again, even as I hoped I would.

“Blanc? Is that you? Didn't you die?”

“I thought you died!” Then I stopped and thought about it. “Oh! Right! Alternate universe!”

“Wait. What?”

“Yeah, I forgot. The Blanc of this world did die. But I'm not the Blanc you know! In fact,” I shuffled my feet. “I'm like a whole other person, and even then, I haven't been myself in a while!”

“No,” she shook her head and smiled. “No matter what form you take, you're still you.”

“Yeah! You're right!” I grinned.

Velvet rubbed her temples and looked frustrated. Poor thing. Time-travel and universe travel and all that jazz, it'd be enough to confuse anyone.

“Can you hold on just a sec?” She swiped the pizza box and went inside, closing the door behind her. While I waited, I decided to whistle a tune. Something about not worrying about a thing.

As I closed my eyes, I recalled all the things I saw on my travels.

Euphy, you've sure been hard at work.

Was I hallucinating? Did the steam from the shower get to my head?

Maybe it was a grief thing, and when I would come back outside, I would see some random stranger. It wasn't like I wanted them to be a stranger, I just didn't see how the alternative was possible.

“Here's your smelly pizza,” I set the box on the arm of the couch.

“What took so long?” Her voice sounded so zombie-like. “Trying to cheat them out of a tip or something?”

I shook my head. “No. I'll tell you in just a sec. I'm going to confirm something real quick.”

Butch looked up from her game. I could tell she was confused, too.

My eyes lit up when she emerged back out and closed the door behind her.

“So, you work pizza delivery?”

“Nah! I was just going on a walk and asked the delivery guy if I could give it a go!”

“I see.”

“Anyway, there's still so much I want to see while I still can, so, see ya!” I took a step toward the stairs, but then I looked back. “But it was really nice to see an old friend! It really made me happy!”

“Hey! Wait just a second!”

“Hm?” Didn't even make it one step down. Oh well. What was I planning on seeing, anyway? Wasn't like I made any sorta list.

“Is it really you? I mean, I know it can't be because I saw you die back in Area 51, but I'd like to believe it's you. I'm not used to someone I don't see for a while still being alive.”

“WHOA!” I couldn't contain my excitement. “This world's me went to Area 51? That's so cool! Aw, but I guess they're dead now, so I can't meet them.”

Velvet tilted her head. Oh golly-gee gosh! There's just no helping it, is there? Those kinds of things would always be just way too confusing for their own good.

I shook my head in response. “I'm sorry, Velvet. We were friends in my universe, too, but then you died. I ended up going through a bunch of crazy stuff, meeting some new people, and nearly dying a couple times in the process just to come back here in hopes that it would fix things.” My voice started to crack up. Guess even someone like me couldn't stay happy about everything. “Suffice to say, I'm not the one that you're familiar with. I've gone through so many changes, that I'm not even the same person I was a year ago.”

“H-How?”

I shrugged. “Time travel. I don't recommend it, by the way. It jumbles everything up.”

“So I'm just supposed to believe all this?”

Again, shrug time. “I mean, you could if you want. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't.”

One step down the stair. However, I didn't break eye contact, and it looked like she was shaking. Even her face.

Oh my. This is what people call blubbering, isn't it?

“I told you, didn't I?” No. That wasn't the correct response, either? “I'm sorry, but I haven't been myself for a while now.”

Before I had a chance to figure something else to say to cheer her up, I was pushed back in an instant and had to act fast and hold on to the railing. Her arms were wrapped around me, squeezing tight, herself pressed against me in a hug.

“Even still...you're you,” her voice broke. It sounded like a whimper.

“Careful, sheesh. You almost knocked  me over. Then I would have fallen off these stairs and been dead for sure.”

“I missed you!”

“Oh, bother,” I tried to look away, or at least turn my head as best I could. “Do you have to squeeze so tight? Seriously, I forgot how strong you were.”

“Shut up.”

“Fine.” I leaned my head in and sighed. “This also makes me happy.”

We stayed like this for about a minute (was it a minute? I don't know. I didn't count. I could have, but I didn't think to. Now I regret not counting the seconds) before she broke away and wiped her face.

“What's with the pink streaks in your hair, by the way?”

“Oh!” I lit up again. What a fun subject that was! “Well, I was thinking of getting streaks in my hair and I couldn't decide between blonde or silver, so I went with pink.”

“I don't really see the connection.”

“You know Kirby?”

“Yeah, that funky lil dude.”

“Yeah! He's a real fat fuck! I got the idea from Kirby!”

“So...” she tilted her head in the direction of the door. “Y'wanna come in or should I say goodbye?”

“Sure! I didn't have anything planned, anyway!”

That Velvet, such an awesome lass! I'd be able to check out her new place! She could bring me back up to speed on everything in the world of Velvet.

She opened the door and announced. “Hey Butch! You'll never believe this! An old friend stopped by! And  they're alive!”

I poked my head in and saw someone on the couch look up, a displeased expression on their face. Short blue hair, small face...small all around, actually. Oh! I knew what those were called! They were pixies. Wait. No. That's not right. That was a human, and a girl. Oh! One of those raver chicks, probably! Or...

“Life sure is strange, hehe,” I commented.

“Yeah, you could say that again, Blanc.”

She, I think Velvet called her 'Birch', pointed in my direction. “Isn't that the person who you said you saw die in --”

“Yeah, it is. But they say they're from another dimension.”

Binch (look, the name would come to me sooner or later) gave a look like Velvet was crazy. Again, not like I could blame her.

“Well, Blanc? Aren't you gonna come in?” Velvet turned to ask me.

“Oh, right! That's a thing I do!” I spread one leg into the apartment and inched my way in. Then I scurried over next to the couch and sat on the floor. You could say I was curious about everything and wanted a good view.

“Ooh! Velvet! You have a girlfriend now! Congrats!”

She remained by the door. Her index finger on her cheek, making scratching motions. “Ehehe...about that...” Her gaze shifted from side to side. “I'm going to go get some snacks and something for dinner! Feel free to get to know each other.”

With that, she waved, then left.

That was when the fun would begin.

Why couldn't I just have a normal day?

Yeah, I already knew I didn't live in a normal world, but come on! Why did Velvet have to pick up some random person and bring them in here? Was this all a part of her “plan” or was she just trying to get to me?

I knew I wouldn't figure it out just by complaining, so I studied the creature that was looking up at me, all googly eyed.

“So I heard your name was Bunch!” They said.

“It's Butch.”

“Bush?”

“Fuck you. I said Butch!”

“Ah, I see, I see.”

They got up and I scanned their movements. Eventually, it seemed like I lost them, but then they came back into view, carrying a stool.

“Since when do we have a stool?”

“Beats me! I just found it here!”

“Grr...this place is a mess, anyway.”

They...Blanc. I could get a name right. It wasn't that hard. Blanc set down the stool in front of the couch, then swayed to and fro, smiling and tapping their legs.

“What is your deal?” I continued to study the creature.

“I just think it's fun to meet new people!”

I squinted my eyes. I could tell something was off. I just couldn't tell what.

“VELVET! GET BACK HERE! DON'T LEAVE ME WITH THIS THING!”

“I don't think she can hear you,” they pointed out.

“This must be one of her practical jokes, I'm sure of it.”

“You would not believe your eyes, if ten million butterflies,” they sang.

“What is your deal? And it's 'Fireflies'.”

“Yeah, but where I come from, it's 'Butterflies'.”

“Look here!” I pointed. “You may fool Velvet, but you don't fool me.”

“I'm not actually trying to fool anyone. I'm sure you're plenty smart.”

I growled. This...I couldn't say kid. They were clearly in their 20s, at least. They were really getting to be a nuisance fast.

“You can't just waltz in and claim to be Velvet's dead friend from another universe and expect a warm welcome. I'm betting you're not who you say you are. Something's fishy.”

The pointed to the pizza box. “I think it's your pizza. Anchovy?”

I opened the box and took a bite of one of the slices. Then, food in my mouth, I continued my interrogation.

“Let's say I believe you. How did you get here, then?”

“Ah! Coincidence! But also, a bit of time travel.”

“Time travel, eh? I'm not saying that's absurd, because I know the technology is out there, but the only ones with access to such technology is The Flashbulb.”

“Ah! So you know about them, too! Yeah, I took one of their thingies. Long story, really.”

My game's battery was going to drain the longer I ignored it, but I just had to get to the bottom of this. Before I could raise my next question, Blanc opened their mouth once more.

“I know how it must seem, but it's also crazy to me, since the Velvet in my universe died. Still, we were friends there, too!”

“Yeah, well My Velvet said you died. She was pretty upset about it, too.”

“Your Velvet?” They leaned forward and gasped, one hand on their chest and eyes all wide. “I knew it! You two are a couple!”

“Wrong.”

“Aw, well I think you'd two made a great couple.”

“Wasn't asking.”

“Hey!” They pointed at my Switch. “Is that the new Animal Crossing game?”

“Yeah,” I grunted. “Animal Crossing: Home Sweet Home. 'New Horizons' got old after a couple years.”

“I used to be into those game videos!” They beamed. “At least until I got here and decided to go traveling!”

“Okay. Also, nobody calls them 'game videos'. What are you, some kinda boomer? Some hippie?”

“No, but I hung out with some stoner aliens for a while!”

“Ah, the Beige.”

“You're aware of them?”

I shrugged. “Aware.”

“Anyway, I think it's fun sightseeing! It makes me happy!”

I grit my teeth. “Don't...don't use that word.”

“Aw, why not?”

“Don't you know what's been going on?!” I spat. “You can't just throw that around so casually!”

“Oh, right! End of the world! It's rather fun!”

“Fun? People are dying.”

“Oh. Was that not the right word? It's fun...ny? Yeah! It's rather funny what's all going on!”

“No! No it's not!”

Did Velvet just invite someone who's infected or something? Infected...was that the right word? Oh, fuck it. Why did I care what the right word was? What mattered was that there was someone staring at me who had no business doing so.

“How is it that Velvet just sees you and trusts you right away?”

“Beats me. Why, are you jealous?”

I crossed my arms. “Not at all. Couldn't care less.”

They smiled wide, such an uncanny smile.

“Not to worry, there's nothing romantic! I don't even like her that way! We're just good friends!”

“Like I care.”

I grabbed another slice of pizza.

“As far as I see it, any friend of Velvet is a friend of mine!”

“Just because you say you're Velvet's friend doesn't mean I consider you my friend.”

“That's okay, I'm used to that being the case at this point! I'm okay with that!”

“You shouldn't be. It's not healthy.” As if I was the paragon of healthy relationships. I decided I wasn't getting anywhere, but if this was some practical joke, I wanted no part of it.

“Let's make this easy for both of us,” I got up and went to my computer. After doing a fair bit of typing, I printed out a sheet of paper and returned to the couch. I handed Blanc a pen and the sheet of paper. “I made you a Questionnaire. If you pass, I will allow you to talk to me.”

“Okay! But I must warn you, I've never been a very good test-taker!”

“No talking.”

They started scribbling in answers and responses. At least it seemed I could have a few minutes of silence. I went back to my game, but as soon as I exited out of the menu screen, they started up again.

“Um, Butch, can you help me with this question?”

“No, and don't you know there's no talking during a test?”

After a few more minutes, they handed the test back to me. What I saw was just a drawing of a sunflower across the paper.

“What the...argh! Never mind! Who cares about a stupid test, anyway?” I crumpled the paper up and threw it behind me. Wherever it landed was of no concern to me.

I got up. There was no helping it. Enough was enough.

“I need a beer. Root beer. Beer of the root variety,” I walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and yelled. “DID YOU HEAR ME? I'M GETTING A ROOT BEER!”

I turned to this 'Blanc' thing. “She hates it when I take her root beer.”

“I doubt she's listening in,” they replied.

“Well, I wouldn't put it past her!”

I grabbed a root beer and popped open the can. Whoever was in the room with me was probably studying me. Probably to see how I would act or react. Maybe this was a test.

“Hey,” I faced Blanc. “You want one, too?”

“Sure!”

“Okay, but you'll have to catch,” I thought saying such a thing would throw them off, but they just said “Okay!” and I threw it. They raised an arm in the air and grabbed it, as if it was nothing.

Fine. But even then, they'll open it, and it'll explode all over the place.

They didn't, though. They just tilted the can from end to end, and smiled.

I walked back to the couch, root beer in hand, and sat down. “There, now don't say I never did anything nice for you.”

“I won't! I think you're a wonderful person!”

“Heh,” whatever that meant, I felt compelled to just nod along. “You're not so bad, yourself, I guess.”

“Aww, do you mean that?”

My face contorted to one of disgust. Ugh. Was not expecting that kind of response AT ALL. What was the deal with this unwarranted niceness?

“That,” I cautioned. “Is yet to be determined.”

Blanc opened the cap, though did so super slowly. Must've been cautious, after all. Whatever. I raised the can and took a sip, one eye open, so I could keep watch of the stranger who claimed to be Velvet's lost friend.

Nothing happened. Well, something did happen. The can opened. That was it. No fizz explosion, just an open can, and then a drink.

Where's the ka-boom? There's supposed to be an Earth shattering ka-boom?

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

“Wanna have a toast?”

“To what?”

I shrugged. “Beats me. How about a toast to being confused?”

They grinned. “Sure!”

We clanged our cans together.

Yes, I knew Butch would get suspicious. That much was certain. What wasn't was the situation. My head felt foggy, my brain empty. Or rather, the opposite: my brain was so full of thoughts that I couldn't sort a single one.

Is any of this real? Is it just wishful thinking on my part? Is this really something I would wish for? Will this make things easier or complicate things further? Is this some kind of sign that things will start to move forward? Is there any way to explain this? Could I be losing it? Have I already lost it and that's proof that I'm mentally incapable of dealing with this crisis and should just give up on everything and live out my last few days while I can?

Okay. That got dark fast. Not to mention, it wasn't like any of those questions could be answered so easily. So, the easier thing to do would just be to shrug and not worry about it so much.

What was I doing? Like, really doing?

“What am I doing? I'm sitting here, alone at a park in a city that's getting more and more empty by the day, while my friends are back at home. I should be with them.”

I decided to take a walk. Yeah, how exciting. As if I hadn't been taking a walk already, and I just stopped to sit down. That park wasn't very interesting; just some grass, some benches, a play structure or two for children.

Further down from the park, however, was a lake. Yes, a lake. Not a pond, not a creek. Rather interesting, that.

Once again, I sat, this time on the ground by the lake. There was a cool breeze, which would have been more fitting for springtime, not mid-winter. Then again, the weather seemed to be whatever it liked to be these days.

“Hm...what kind of thing makes a lake happy?”

Heh. What's gotten into me? Asking silly questions like that. Asking so many questions in general.

It's all your fault, Mephistopheles. This whole mess is.

I threw a rock into the water, but it did not skip. Never could get them to skip, and it looked like that wasn't about to change. I picked another one up, but the thought of the thing I called Mephistopheles back in the summer cropped back up. Blanc had said that was their friend. But then there was all those strange phenomenon when 'she' was around, not to mention what I later learned from Area 51's data files, and my eyes went wide.

“I wonder if Blanc ever knew just what their friend really was.”

How could they not? Unless they were just really oblivious. But then how does one 'befriend' some kind of shapeless horror? Maybe because it doesn't present itself as a horror. The only 'horror' are the things affected by it, not the thing itself.

But then, if Blanc could put two and two together, then why did I still see them die?

Unless they didn't.

No, pretty sure I knew what I saw. But I didn't think I could deny what I saw just an hour ago, either. Hmm...didn't Blanc say something when we left the pyramids about how they read about an alternate universe version of them, but then just figured they probably died.

Ugh! My head!

I threw another rock. That time it actually skipped. Amazed, I looked around and saw a chubby looking man and a lady with pigtails walking by. For whatever reason, seeing anyone at all made me smile. I didn't know how much time there was left, but it was good to know there were still some people around.

Pizza box by the couch, the pizza gone. Bye-bye in my stomach, right where it ought to be.

“I'm bored,” Blanc whined.

My arm slumped on the arm of the couch. “Hate to admit it, but same.”

What was there to do in such a messy apartment? Board games? Hell no! Off the table!

Usually, I'd just work on things at my desk, but it was a little hard to get work done or want to work when there was someone near me.

“I wanna draw! Or color! Or dance!” They exclaimed, continuing to sway on the stool.

“How old are you?”

“Ooh! That's fun, too! We can ask each other questions!” They started counting on their fingers. Their head shook a few times, then nodded, and kept counting. “I'm twenty-four! Or four!”

“Huh?” I sat up. Any sane human would ask 'how does that work?' but I knew better. “Are you like me?”

“Hmm?” They beamed. “I could be!”

“So you were twenty when you first went through, and it's been four years. You must have been one of the first.”

“Math is hard and makes me frowny! I don't do it!”

I ignored that. “I've only been alive for a few months. I think seven, so over half a year. Bad luck on my part, huh? Seeing as about half a year ago was when this thing started spreading.”

“It was going to be like this sooner or later,” they shrugged. “Honestly, it started over four years ago.”

“What? What do you mean?”

They shrugged. “That's when the elevator was unveiled in my hometown.”

“Ah! You were one of the first. Yes, back then, they were still testing and it was still new, so the methods were rather primitive. It was believed that the previous body should be disposed of when the copy was created, so they were cut up and thrown down a garbage chute.”

They nodded, already aware. “Yes, I remember that quite well.”

“Wait. How are you aware of all this? Most people don't know that they're copies of themselves.”

“I learned some things!”

“Mm-hmm,” I scowled. “Guess in vague terms, same with me.”

“That's funny! How was it for you?”

“Well, I worked at Area 51, and they had these weekly 'check-ups' where they did...something. I'm not sure what. I must have been a new person with the same identity countless times, all without realizing it.”

“But now you do!”

“Yeeaaah...” My voice trailed. “Wonder if it would have been better not knowing.”

“I think if you didn't want to know, you wouldn't know!”

That wasn't how things worked, but I didn't think I could argue. “Does Velvet know you're a...you?”

Blanc nodded with vigor.

“Bleh. She probably thinks we're some kinda freaks, huh? Not being our original selves, being this...creation. Great, just great. If there's one thing I hate, it's being pitied.”

“I'm sure she thinks of you as human!”

“Oh?” I sneered. “How can you be so sure? You don't even know me.”

They shrugged. “Does she treat you like you're not a person?”

Oh. So that's it. That was also something I hated. That I couldn't disagree.

“No, she does. I guess in her own weird way.”

“If you're a person, you're a person!”

“What about you?”

“I'm not all human!”

“WHAT?!”

They pointed to their arm and poked at it.

“What are you doing?”

“This isn't a human arm!”

In shock, I watched them pull at their skin and a chunk of flesh tore off. No, not flesh. It looked flappy, like flesh, but I started to understand when I saw what was underneath: metal.

“Are you an android? I knew it! You aren't the real Blanc!”

“Bwahaha! No, silly! It's a prosthetic! I lost my arm a while ago, but I lived and got a new one!”

“Don't scare me like that. So what? You're saying you're less human because you have a prosthetic limb?”

As if it were no big deal, they shrugged once again. “I think I'm human, but I also wouldn't mind if I wasn't, too!”

“You're weird.”

“Now I see! We're pretty similar!”

“Huh? Just because of the clone thing? Then you must be similar to the majority of the world, then, buddy.”

“Heh. I probably am! But also we're similar in other ways, too!”

“Like what? What could you possibly know about me?”

Finger on their chin, they tilted their head up and made a “hmm,” and then went “aha!”

“Do you miss working there?”

Ah, I remember I once asked Velvet that question. Well, I asked her if she missed sitting at a computer, working from afar. Funny, me using 'I' to refer to a past self. Must've been a Freudian slip or something.

“Not really,” I grunted. “I wasn't really even supposed to find out. They wanted me dead, since in their eyes, I shouldn't have existed as I am. Fair enough. That place is dead to me, anyway.”

“I see. Did you feel like you belonged when you were there?”

“I guess?” I shrugged. “That's not really something I think about.”

“I used to think I didn't belong anywhere, but then I met the Beige, and I think I fit right in with them!”

Really? What about friends? That didn't seem to make sense. None at all.

“Say, have you ever been to TJ Maxx?”

What a random question. Blanc sure loved to throw curveballs, no wonder they got along so well with Velvet.

“No?”

“Oh! What about Goodwill?”

“I know of it.”

“One time I went to Goodwill and I saw a disc for a thing called 'Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing'! I thought that was funny! I mean, how did a person fit inside a disc and why would anyone need to learn to type?”

No. No way.

“H-How do you know my old name?!” I leaned forward and demanded. “I knew it! Something is wrong here!”

“Oh? Did you make that software?”

“No! But! You know about me, don't you?”

Blanc laughed. “You're overthinking this!”

“No! No way! There is no way I'm overthinking this! When Velvet comes home, I'll expose you!”

“Expose me? Oh my...”

“No time for jokes. There's something you're not telling me.”

“That's true. But doesn't that go for everyone?”

“Fine,” I huffed. “Maybe it's a coincidence.”

They giggled. “So your folks wanted you dead, huh?”

Back on the previous topic, I see.

“Yeah. What about it?”

“It was the same for me. Etna told me I was a mistake and shouldn't exist.”

Ah, so that's what they meant by being similar. Well, shit. Now I felt like the asshole.

“Does it bother you? Do you think of yourself as a mistake?”

“I don't mind being a mistake! If I am, that just means I've been blessed to see all that I have!”

“Say, do you still have any root beer left in your can?”

“Nope!”

“Wanna have a toast, anyway?”

“Sure!”

We clashed cans once again. “Here's to being mistakes.”

Silence set, and we both sighed. Now it was back to boredom, it seemed.

“Sheesh, when's Velvet coming back? How long does it take to get food, anyway?”

“I think it's cool that there's a convenience store downstairs!”

“Yeah, but most of the food's emptied or expired.”

“Is that so? Can I go down and check?”

“Go for it. I could probably use the few minutes of alone time, anyway.”

So down they went. Even as they made their way out of the apartment, they looked so giddy. It was rather unsettling to see, but it shouldn't have been. That was just the world I lived in; all the 'infected' I had seen were so manic, that I felt the need to be on guard.

No sooner did I get back in the apartment and sit at the couch next to Butch (See? Told ya I'd get the name right) that the door opened back up and Velvet entered.

“Hey guys, did ya two get along?”

“What do you think?” Butch grumbled.

Velvet didn't seem to like that answer. “Please tell me you weren't too harsh.”

“We got along just fine, sheesh.”

“Oh!” She seemed surprised by this. “Good! That's...quite good, actually.”

She walked over to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Her head tilted, then she closed the fridge door.

“That's weird. I could've sworn I had more root beer than that.”

“Blanc took it!” Butch accused me. I just smiled.

“I was thirsty!”

Velvet opened the fridge again and counted. “It looks like there's two missing.”

“I was really thirsty and Butch said to help myself, so I took two!”

She shook her head and sighed. “That's fine, though I wish you had waited 'til I got home. Oh well.”

Instead of another root beer, Velvet grabbed a can of grape soda and noticed the stool. She walked over and sat down, her eyes on Butch and I.

“What? Grape soda? Since when is that your thing?”

“Never mind that,” Velvet's gaze shifted between Butch and I. “There's something I'd like to discuss.”

“For real? We've been talking this whole time while you were gone!” Butch argued with her gruff voice.

“It's important to me.”

“Fine,” she folded her arms, still scowling. “But I'm finding a chair and sitting next to you.”

“Uh, sure? Suit yourself. Say, Blanc, are you hungry?”

“I have fruit snacks!” I replied, pulling out a large bag behind me.

“What?”

“Don't worry, I have enough to share with everyone!”

Butch walked around and found a fold out chair, which she did just what a fold chair does. To the left of Velvet was where the chair was positioned, and they both looked at me in a way which made me feel like I was on trial. Mind you, a fun trial, the one I wouldn't mind what the verdict was, but a trial, nonetheless.

“Now, you know me, I'm not one to keep secrets,” Velvet began in earnest. “So I'll just come out with it.”

“HA! Keeping secrets is ALL you're known for!” Butch cackled and slapped her knee for good measure.

“Shush, I'm trying to have a serious moment here.”

“Fine, then! Out with it!”

“Blanc,” she faced me again. “I'm calling you that because I want to believe it's really you. But I'll be honest, and no matter how many times you tell me, it's hard to believe that you're from another universe or something. So, please don't blame me if I'm a little unsure what to think of all this.”

“Unsure? Try suspicious! You could have just doomed us both, you know? This person could be infected!”

Oh boy. Well, Velvet still knew it was me, I could already tell. I wasn't really sure what all this was for, but that didn't mean I wasn't unhappy about it.

“Now, now. Do you really think I would do that? Not only bring potential harm to us, but also someone innocent? If this Blanc is anything like the one that I knew, they were only in that elevator once. So there was no build up, and probably the smallest amount of that thing in them.”

“I can understand the concern,” I raised my hand. “After all, I may be the most affected.”

Velvet's concern grew. Her face told me all I needed to know.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I'm sure you know already, right? While it's true the more times you've been...what's the word...recycled? No, that doesn't sound right...hm...”

“How about 'reborn'?”

“Sure!” Okay, back to train of thought. “The more times you've been reborn, the more of the thing you'll have in your system in a shorter amount of time, and probably the highest chance you have of losing yourself and affecting others around you.” It sucked having to refer to Euphy as 'the thing' but I'm sure she didn't mind. What sucked even more was explaining something they already knew. Like a lecture I didn't need to give. Regardless, I continued.

“So while that's true, and I, having only done so once, you'd think 'cool! They're safe!' But really, I was one of the first, and the kind of thing us clones have in our system isn't just any old antidepressant, as you also already know, and it will still build up over time.”

“So what you're saying is...what?”

“Four years can be a long time to gestate!”

Her eyes widened and she was taken aback, her arms also tucked at her chest as if she was trying to protect herself.

“I'm sure most of the first folks who took those rides must've gone through so many times that they're already dead for good! But I on the other hand, am here, not dead! Though I must say, I've had quite a few close calls!”

“Should we be worried, then?”

“Why worry? It's not the end of the world just because the world is ending,” I shrugged.

“I think that's exactly what it is...”

“Oh yeah, huh? So it's really happening. Funny when you think about it. The world ending because people are feeling too good. Rather ironic, don't you think?”

“I guess when you put it that way, it is kinda funny,” Butch snorted. “And here I was talking about how this is no laughing matter earlier.��

“You gotta laugh a little to stay sane!” I added.

“P'fft. Like any of us three are sane.”

“Good point! Say, Velvet, your girlfriend's really smart!”

“We're not girlfriends,” Butch growled.

“Yeah, about that. Glad you brought that up, actually. See, we thought about it, but in the end, we agreed it was for the best that we weren't a couple,” Velvet explained. Butch nodded along.

“So in the end,” Velvet added. “We're just roommates. Roommates who do romantic things together and have lots and lots of sex.”

Right after Velvet said that, Butch looked down like she was trying to hide her face and clutched her jeans.

“Um, I think she's malfunctioning?” I pointed to her.

“Oh, that? She just gets flustered easily. I wouldn't worry about it!”

Butch's face seemed to grow red (from what I could see of it, and I imagined steam rising to the top of her head.

“Hehe, I see you're just as weird as ever, Velvet!”

“I'm not weird, I'm just open.”

“THAT IS WEIRD!” Butch just exploded. Well, okay, not really, but she spat out her words all at once and her face looked redder than a tomato. Like blood! “THOSE ARE PRIVATE MATTERS! YOU DON'T JUST GO BLABBING THESE KINDS OF THINGS TO PEOPLE!”

“Ow, my ears,” Velvet scratched the side of her head. “I think you got some spit on me, too!”

Butch crossed her arms. “You deserve it.”

“I'll respect your wishes, though. I'll try not to embarrass you so much.”

“It's not just me you should worry about embarrassing, but thanks.”

“...Even though it is fun to watch you get flustered.”

“Hey!”

Heh, maybe if those two kept things up, I could be off the hook and we could just have dinner or watch a movie or play some games instead. But before I could get my hopes up, Velvet turned back to me.

“Is there anything you could say that would assuage our worries?”

“Hm....” Think, Blanc. Think and be honest! “Well, I don't usually yell much.”

“That's it?”

“Think about it: all those people you see who are affected, they tend to yell, and it's like they're out of control. Y'know, be real loud, just like how Butch was just now.”

“Hey!” You-know-who didn't like that I called her out.

“Which isn't to say that won't happen, but it's more likely to happen with those who experience something so distressing that the thing inside of them reacts and tries to make them go manic in a way to counteract whatever's overwhelming the person. That's how this planet is in the state it's in, anyway. Someone must have had a really bad day, and that's a no-no when you're supposed to feel really good.”

Butch once again looked down, but it didn't strike me as the same reason as before. Rather than her face being red, she shook, and it looked like she was about to cry. I wanted to ask Velvet if there was something wrong, but I got sidetracked by what Velvet asked me, instead.

“You mean to say that one person could have been the start of all this?” Velvet gasped.

“Eh,” I shrugged. “I mean, I don't wanna say for sure, because then it would sound like 'one person can make all the difference' and that's too inspirational for my taste.”

“Oh yeah. You're Blanc alright. That's something I know Blanc would say.”

“Is it now?” That was quite interesting. “Now that you mention it, I don't mind being a little inspiring.”

“Now that's what I like to hear!” Velvet held a certain fire in her eyes, an excitement that I had been waiting to see. “Butch, can I tell them?”

“What?” She was still a little misty-eyed but I didn't notice anything unusual. “Why do you need my permission? You're an adult.”

“I want you to have a say in this conversation.”

“Fine. If you want my advice, I'd say no. For all we know, they could be a Flashbulb member. Think about it: the only way to travel to another universe is through The Flashbulb.”

“Wait, really? Is that true?” Velvet faced me once more. “Is that true?”

I shrugged. “Probably. I mean, I did steal one of their time travel devices and I probably wouldn't have been able to do half the things I did had I not.”

“Wait. Really? You did that?”

“Yeah! How do you think I lost my arm?”

I could tell Velvet was even more confused, even though Butch knew what was up.

“I'll tell you later,” Butch whispered to her. Lucky for me, my hearing was pretty decent, so eavesdropping was a cinch.

“So if you did that, does that mean you were at their headquarters?” Velvet pressed on.

“What? Like it's hard?” Oh shit. That could have given them the wrong impression. Time to dial it back. “Well, maybe it's a little hard, seeing as I lost it when I came here.”

“Damn! Right when I thought we might be onto something!”

“May I ask why you're interested?” I asked while shoveling a handful of fruit gushers in my mouth.

“We want to save the world,” Velvet declared. “It was The Flashbulb's meddling with things that brought us here, and if I can make it to their headquarters, I'm sure there's a way to fix this!”

“Ooh!” I leaned in. “I'll be cheering you on, then!”

“Thank you.”

“That's quite a bold goal, though. Are you sure you're up for it?”

Velvet gulped.

“Yes. Yes I am. I think if you asked the old me, she would have said no. That she'd find a way to escape Earth, instead, and leave everyone behind. Later, she would regret it, being alone, and not doing anything, and she would have gone mad until she too died.”

“Interesting...and you're different now?”

“I would like to think so. I think it was the bond you and Conrad had that made me realize that.”

“What? Really? But I don't really have much of an opinion of him.”

“Well, the one that I knew. Even though he would have denied it, seeing as he saw you differently than the one that he knew before, he still thought of the Blanc I got to know as important, and I don't regret saving them and taking them with us when we escaped to Egypt on my ship.”

“You know, that was me, too. The timelines only diverged three years after being with the Beige.”

“Oh. Right.”

Still, I never thought Conrad was the type to think of me as 'important'. What did that even mean?

“Then, as I got to know you, or, the you that I knew, I grew to find them important to me as well. I didn't think I would have, though, and I think that's where I went wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I left them behind so I could go to Area 51, I thought they would be safe on their own, but for some reason or another, I later saw them in the facility, lying down and lifeless. It devastated me and I never thought I would come across them there, especially like that, but I did.”

“They were probably worried about you,” I suggested.

“I wish I had told them that I would be fine!” She sounded choked up. Oh no, that wasn't good. “Even if it wasn't true, I wish I had done something so they wouldn't have felt the need to risk their life! I don't even know if there was something I could have done, but I never wanted them to die for me!”

That hit me worse than I wanted it to. While I knew I wouldn't burst like so many people, I still worried what kind of emotions she might stir in me.

“It couldn't have been that bad. I mean, they probably figured your life was more important than theirs. So it all worked out, right?”

“N-No! Because their life wasn't any less important than mine was! I lost a friend and I can't help thinking that I didn't have to.”

Friend?

I burst into laughter. “But that Blanc was boring! What could've been so special about 'em? They were so ordinary!”

She shook her head, for some reason, smiling, as well. When she opened her eyes, however, she looked no less serious.

“Doesn't matter. They were important to me. Just as you are.”

“Me?” I pointed to myself.

“Yes, you too. You consider me your friend, don't you?”

“Yeah...” I sighed. “I mean, that's why I was so excited to see you earlier. But that doesn't mean you consider me your friend, does it?”

“Of course I think of you as a friend,” she tilted her head all concerned. “Did you ever doubt that?”

“Maybe!” I put on a good grin. “Hard to say! But it feels good to hear it now!”

“Sorry if that wasn't clear before.”

“That's okay! You told me now!”

“Yes, but do you believe it?”

I gulped. “I think I will! I believe you mean it!”

She sighed. I thought of sighing as well. It was a lot, a lot more than I was expecting to deal with.

“Well, regardless, I think I realized that it's probably that way with a lot of people. I mean, someone's got someone that's important to them, and in that respect, it really grinds my gears what's going on. All these lives lost, and I get it, people die, but all of this could have been avoided. We've already lost so many people, but I want to believe that the world can be saved, no, restored even! Even if not, I want to at least try!”

“What is this, The Help?” Butch scoffed. “'You is important'? Really?”

“Okay, first off, that's rude,” Velvet shot back. “Second, you're important to me, too. You and Blanc both are.”

Butch crossed her arms. “Like I care whether or not you care.”

“Hey, just for that, no sex tonight!”

“What?!” She spat. “You can't do that!”

“Threatening to withhold affection...isn't that considered abuse?” I wondered.

“Yeah! What Blanc said! Besides, I'm always the one taking the initiative!”

Velvet brushed it off. “P'ssh. It's fine. I was only joking.”

I really didn't understand what the deal was about that, but if it mattered to them, I suppose it was worth a quarrel. Gosh, relationships sure are weird. Did people really make a fuss about such things?

Three more days. After that night, there would be three days left to figure things out. Oh, sure, the world may have still been around after, but that was the self-imposed deadline. Really, I would have said four more days, but Butch did say “make it four” when I said I'd figure something out in five days. So that's how it would be.

Since the day before at the restaurant didn't go as planned, I decided I would make it up to Butch by making spaghetti and meatballs. Blanc wanted french toast and gummy worms, instead, which I was not about to argue about that. This was a night to celebrate, and celebrate we would.

“Say, Blanc, do you wanna stick around?” I brought up during dinner.

“Sure! I'll follow you guys 'til the world ends.”

“That's not that impressive considering that the world's literally ending,” Butch scoffed.

“So that means you'll stay the night?” I asked.

“Yeah! That sounds like fun!”

“Great! Though hope you don't mind the couch,” I turned to my roommate/not-girlfriend. “That means you and I will be in bed tonight.”

“Uh, duh? That's where people sleep.”

It was only a couple hours later, after doing some dishes, that Butch passed out. On the couch, no less. God damn, I should've seen it coming, but I still let it happen anyway.

“Looks like I'll have to pick her up again,” I sighed. Wasn't looking forward to that one bit. Just because I could carry her, didn't mean I always wanted to. She wasn't a baby. She knew where the bed was. Then again, when she fell asleep, it was kind of baby-like...

“Don't worry, Velvet,” Blanc placed a hand on their chest. “I will make the sacrifice and sleep in your guys' bed, that way you can share the couch with her.”

Somehow that didn't sound like much of a sacrifice to me, but I was too tired to really employ any sort of logic.

“Sure, I mean, she is cute...” My eyes drifted toward her. Why, I didn't know. Just a part of my body betraying me, I suppose. “Even though I said we would be taking the bed, I don't want to have to move her...”

“See?” Blanc grinned. “It all works out!”

“Fine!” I scowled. “But you gotta do something for me in return. Deal?”

“Deal!”

We stood by each other for just a sec before I finally got on with it.

“I want to confide something. It's...about her. Here, let's talk about this in the bedroom. I'm afraid of waking her.”

“Shouldn't she be included?” Blanc tilted their head.

“Usually, yes. It's just that I don't want to make her uncomfortable. Like, actually uncomfortable.”

“Ah, how noble of you. The great and chivalrous Velvet! I love it!”

“Hey! Cut that out! I'm like none of those things!”

“Not even 'Velvet'?”

“Okay, I'm one of those things!”

I cupped my hands over my mouth. Next to me was the couch, and on that couch was you-know-who, who moved a little in her sleep.

“Crap...” I whispered. I waited to see if she would wake up, but she didn't. After I was convinced she was still asleep, I turned back to Blanc. “Okay, come on. You made a deal.”

We walked over to the bedroom, Blanc closing the door behind them. I sat at the edge of the bed.

“Are you ready?” I asked.

“Sure, I'll listen. But I can't promise I'll be paying attention.”

“Then what's the...oh, never mind!” I gave a slight laugh, though it wasn't my usual rolling on the floor laughter. Seemed false, hollow.

“Here's the deal,” I began. “About the whole girlfriend thing between Butch and I. I'm pretty sure we both want to, or would like to, or at least I would. Trust me, I'd love nothing more to have a girlfriend, and she does mean a lot to me.”

“So what is it, then? Is it just 'cause her denial over liking you? If that's the case, seems silly to me. The writing on the wall is so obvious I don't know how you could miss it!”

I shook my head. “No, that's not it. I wasn't lying when we agreed it was for the best that we didn't.”

“Don't worry! I didn't think you were!”

“It's just...there's something about her that makes it a little hard.”

“Aw, but nobody's perfect. Everyone's got their flaws.”

“Except me!” I declared in a bout of unseriousness. “My fatal flaw is that I'm flawless. If I was a character in a story, I'd be boring because of how perfect I am!”

“Honest as ever, I see.”

I huffed. “Can't get nothin' past you, can I?”

“You are plenty great, though, so I don't blame you for trying.”

“Thanks, but flattery won't get you more candy.”

“Was worth a try.”

“Anyway, no. Her thing isn't a matter of flaws. I can deal with flaws. I can even deal with her, most of the time.”

“Then what is it?”

“You already know, don't you?”

“I could take a guess, but that wouldn't be very fun!”

“She's one of those folks you mentioned. You know, has that syndrome, or virus, or whatever you want to call it that makes people act out in such manic ways that become so destructive that it kills them and turns them into a threat to everything around them.”

“But she's still around, so that's a good thing, right?”

“It should be. She's had moments, where just like you said, she gets distressed, or worked up, and then she does whatever she thinks would make her happiest, which usually involve something violent. Each time, I've managed to bring her down and back to normal, but I'm just afraid.”

“Afraid of her?”

“No. Even when she's like that, I've dealt with much scarier things. I'm just afraid that one day she'll get like that again and I won't be able to save her.”

“That's interesting!”

“What is?”

“If you're able to do that now, that must mean you make her happier than whatever other compulsion she might have at the time!”

“Heh. Maybe. I'm just worried I'm going to lose her sooner or later.”

“You said you've managed to bring her down from it before, right?”

“Yes. After the first time, she told me she was cured and over it, and I believed her, but it happened other times after. I was just glad she managed to come back to her usual self.”

“There's nothing to worry about, then!”

“Uh...Yes there is?” Unless I was missing something.

“Sounds like a guardian angel listened to you a while back ago.”

That struck me. Memories of back when I escaped the facility rushed back to me.

“What do you mean by that?”

They shrugged. “Whatever you'd like it to mean, I suppose.”

Rather than hold any suspicion, I just shrugged my shoulders and got up. “Well, thank you for listening to me tonight.” I headed toward the door and made my way out, turning out the light on my way.

“Goodnight, Blanc.”

They just sat, having taken my place at the edge of the bed, and smiled.

Every room in the apartment turned dark as all lights went out. While true that I wanted to sleep on the couch with her, I opted instead to sleep on the floor. She was already asleep. I didn't want to wake her trying to squeeze in to find some room on the couch for me.

It was hard to tell whether or not I'd get any sleep, but that didn't seem to matter much to me. My only hope was that everything would come together soon.

[supes9]

💚💜 Nygmobblepot Week (2019) 💜💚

Day 3: AU/Crossover

An alternate take on Ed’s confrontation scene with Oswald in 5x05.

Ed continues pointing his gun at Oswald, but his direct aim falters as he tries to hide the confusion on his face from what Oswald has just exclaimed to him.

Ed: “You paid Hugo Strange to save me? Why?”

There’s a brief moment of silence between the two as Oswald looks thoughtfully at Ed.

Oswald: (softly sighs) “What was I supposed to do? Let you die? After Butch, you were my only friend.”

Ed: “You shot Butch!”

Oswald: “Which is why I needed you!”

Oswald spins around in frustration, rushing over to a nearby table, throwing his hands down to lean over it. He lets out a small, bitter laugh in disbelief of Ed’s obliviousness, followed by a heavy breath as he tries to steady his emotions. He strains to keep himself from crying out of frustration and further heartbreak.

Ed has lowered his gun and taken a step back in slight shock at eliciting such an extreme reaction from Oswald in response to his question. He watches Oswald’s shoulders slump and notices a tiny tremble running through his body. He knows Oswald is struggling to regain his composure, to keep himself in check for Ed, but what caused this moment of vulnerability and anguish? Realization suddenly hits Edward hard, and he finds he’s desperate to hear the answer from Oswald… again. He begins to slowly walk over to Oswald.

Ed: “Was that your only intention in saving me? Or was there another reason?”

Ed can’t see that Oswald has closed his eyes at his questioning, but he hears the soft, shaky breaths as he continues to step closer and closer.

Ed: “Was it the same reason you chose to freeze me at the docks, when you could have just killed me on the spot?”

Oswald: (speaks softly) “Ed…”

Ed: “And was it why you saved me from Sofia’s hit men, sacrificing your long-awaited revenge on her… for me?”

Oswald shakes his head and closes his eyes tighter, trying to hide his feelings from Ed, only to pop his eyes open when he feels Ed’s warmth beginning to surround him. Ed is now right behind him, and his arm brushes against Oswald’s as he reaches out to rest his gun on the table in front of him. While Oswald fixates on the weapon that has been directed at him so many times now, Ed softly places his hand on Oswald’s arm, encouraging him to turn around.

Ed: “Oswald…”

Oswald is now face-to-face with Ed, but he can’t bring himself to look into Ed’s eyes. He shakes his head again, a pained expression on his face and in his voice.

Oswald: “Ed, don’t…”

Ed is now holding Oswald by both arms, and his grip tightens as he struggles to meet his eyes. He opts to lean in closer, his forehead almost touching Oswald’s, as his own voice begins breaking, begging Oswald to reveal the truth and let his feelings out.

Ed: “I need you to tell me, Oswald. I need to know… Please.”

Oswald hesitantly brings his watering eyes up to look into Ed’s longing ones.

Oswald: (whispers) “I couldn’t lose you, Ed. I can’t lose you.”

Ed: “Why?”

Oswald blinks and a single tear finally slides down his face, which Ed can’t help wiping away gently with his thumb. Their eyes connect again as Ed hears the words he’s been waiting for. The words that Oswald has said to him several times before, only this time, Ed is ready to fully appreciate them.

Oswald: “Because I love you. Even after everything we’ve been through, I can’t change the way I feel about you. I know you don’t reciprocate those feelings for me, but I’d rather have you as my friend, or even my enemy, than nothing at all. I need you in my life, Ed.”

Ed, overcome with emotion, quickly pulls Oswald into a hug. Oswald, initially shocked by the gesture, begins to feel relieved and relaxes into Edward, resting his head against Ed’s chest and running his hands delicately along his back. Ed tightly grips the back of Oswald’s suit and burrows his head into the crook of Oswald’s neck. His voice just above a whisper by Oswald’s ear, as he speaks all the thoughts flooding his mind.

Ed: “We’ve been through enough, Oswald. We’ve put ourselves through so much. I’m tired of us fighting each other… and I’m exhausted from fighting myself and battling with my feelings for you. I’m through with us being enemies, but I don’t think we can go back to being friends either. Not when… I’ve had the desire to become more than friends.”

Oswald stills and lets out a small gasp, remembering Ed saying those exact words in the past, only to be mislead and left broken-hearted.

Oswald: “Ed…?”

Ed pulls away from their embrace just enough to gaze into Oswald’s expectant eyes once more. He gives Oswald a small smile and brings a hand up to caress Oswald’s cheek.

Ed: “You were right all along, Oswald. One can not deny love.”

Ed tugs at Oswald’s waist with his other hand to close the distance between them and place a slow, tender kiss on his lips. He reluctantly pulls away to see Oswald’s eyes cautiously opening after such a blissful moment.

Ed: “I love you, Oswald. I’m sorry it took so long for me to say that to you. You’ve always loved and accepted me for who I am, as I have for you. You’ll never lose me, Oswald. I’m just so thankful that after everything, I haven’t lost you.”

Oswald’s wary expression melts away into a bright smile, emitting a light laugh as he brings Ed in for another hug, holding him tightly.

Oswald: “Like that could ever happen. You’re my one true love, Ed. I can’t let go of you that easily.”

Ed: “I hope you never do. It feels good being in your arms again. I could stay like this forever…”

Mere seconds later, they are abruptly broken apart by a loud bark and look down to see Oswald’s dog tilting his head to one side and staring at the lovebirds curiously.

Oswald: (laughing) “I hope you don’t mind that I have two Edwards in my life now.”

Ed playfully glares at Edward with a smirk on his face.

Ed: “Just don’t let that one hog all your attention. (Moves in to press light kisses along the side of Oswald’s neck) I won’t stand for it.”

Oswald’s hand slowly travels up from Ed’s back to run his fingers through his hair.

Oswald: “How can he when you’re the one doing precisely that?”

Ed: “I can’t help it. I need to make up for lost time. (Brushing his lips to Oswald’s ear) I need you.”

Ed kisses Oswald’s temple before Oswald gently pushes him back to look at him affectionately.

Oswald: “You have me, Ed. Always. I love you.”

They smile at each other, and Ed’s heart leaps in his chest as he once again returns the sentiment.

Ed: “I love you, too.”

Ed lowers his eyes to Oswald’s lips, rubbing his thumb across them before enveloping Oswald into another kiss. This one is deeper, full of passion, and seals their desire to spend the rest of their lives together.

End Scene

[the-mandalorian-clone-lover]

Aces in Spaces Chapter 17

Little happy sleepover bit a few days after the last chapter :D

Little note about the posting schedule, I’ll be around family that doesn’t agree with me being Ace for the next weeks because of the holidays. I think I’ll still find small moments to post the usual updates, I just wanted to say they might not be at the same times as normal though I’ll try to stick to the same days.

Anyway! Hope you guys enjoy!

Tags: @sunshinepascal @rentskenobi @maybege @obaby-wan @princessxkenobi @agent-450

Masterlist

2yrs 3 months

It’s Erica’s first night in the penthouse, its only a sleep over she hasn’t started moving in yet, but despite Roman’s offer of the guest room she has decided she wants to share with him for the night. He offered her the bathroom if she wanted to change after dinner, but she’d shrugged, deciding to stay in the clothes she had worn over. It’s that same pair of black jeans that she’s had since they started dating that make her legs look miles longer than they already are, has he mentioned he loves that? A long sleeved t-shirt from one of her various martial arts escapades keeps her warm and he acknowledges she’s probably snug enough for movie night (no, he’s not hoping she opted to do that because she forgot her pajamas and then she has to borrow one of his shirts, that’s ridiculous). He goes to change into sweatpants and an undershirt himself, he prefers to sleep shirtless but he grabs the shirt anyway, the last thing he wants to do is introduce unnecessary nudity if it would make her uncomfortable.

The movie passes in comfortable silence, it’s mostly background noise as they both think so loudly its near impossible for either one to focus. A few minutes in Erica gradually migrates closer to Roman, over the course of the first hour they get more and more wrapped up in each other that by the time the credits roll, Roman almost regrets that they have to come apart to go to bed.

He then realizes he should have spent this whole time contemplating how exactly he was going to ask her if she was ready for bed without it sounding weird.

Even if he is overthinking it, he’s certain he can’t be too careful.

She actually ends up breaking the silence first.

“I want to change before we get in bed, I normally drink some tea, would you like some?”

She’s always so diplomatic, giving them both something to focus on instead of the potential awkwardness and he meets her eyes, nodding. “You know where everything is in the kitchen?”

She laughs softly, “I’ve been around here enough that I can find some mugs lover”

He smiles, nodding again, “I’ll wait for you then.”

She meets him in the bedroom a few moments later both hands occupied with coffee mugs.

“I left my bag by the door; I know you don’t get up early so I’ll be able to find it.” She teases him softly as she walks toward the bed and he spits his tongue at her, squeezing his eyes shut before marking his spot in the book he’s reading and reaching out to take the drinks from her, mumbling out a ‘wouldn’t want you to spill’. She passes them across, her tongue peeking out between her lips in concentration, she breathes a sigh of relief once they’re safely in his hands.

“I can’t stand spilling it, let alone in bed.”

He nods, breathing a chuckle.

“Now don’t you laugh at me Mister, you wouldn’t sleep in a wet bed any more than me!”

He has to give her that, it’s virtually inarguable.

“Do you read before bed too?”

She tilts her hand in a so-so motion as she throws the covers back to sit. “Sometimes I do, I forgot to grab my book this afternoon, so I was going to reach out to a friend.”

He nods, handing her cup back to her, pulling back as she reaches for it, causing them both to laugh before he passes it to her carefully. “Are they far away?”

She nods, settling into the covers. “Over in the UK, she’s a great friend though.”

He hums, settling back against the headboard and pulling the covers up before re-opening his book and together they read for a little longer, sipping their tea. It’s a minty blend, probably a dash of chamomile in it as well, and Roman likes it; wouldn’t mind drinking it every night really. Speaking of night, its getting quite late and he’s faced again with the question of how to get them both to bed without being awkward. He decides it’s his turn to pose a solution.

“Do you want me to turn the lights out?” He supposes it’s safe enough.

Erica looks to him before looking down and frowning at her phone in thought. “At my house, I usually walk through and check the doors before I do, just a last assurance before I fall asleep.”

He understands that, reaching to throw the covers back, “Would you like me to, or would you like to come along?”

She smiles at him before her eyes fall down to her hands again. “Would you mind? I don’t mean to be a bother at all, I—”

He shushes her comfortingly “Not at all not at all, sometimes I call Butch over and he tucks me in and turns on my night light so I don’t get scared.” He winks at her, bringing her head forward to kiss her forehead. “I’ll be back love”

He gets out of the bed then, taking the mugs with him and depositing them in the sink before testing each door and making his way back to his room, turning lights off as he goes. When he turns off the bedroom light and crawls into bed; he feels the awkwardness looming again. They’re both lying on their backs, a full arm’s length between them, and even if they do start off movies like this it feels exceptionally far now.

“This is awkward.”

Erica doesn’t sound awkward, just sounding as if she’s making a statement of fact.

“Yup.”

It’s said in agreement. Roman doesn’t know what else to add to her assessment.

“Well, come on then.” Erica’s sitting up now, pushing the covers back and turning toward him. He copies her movements but is incredibly confused and he figures it shows. She’s reaching for his hands then and he offers them readily, then she’s pulling him to stand.

“We’ll jump on the bed like kids, you know you want to.”

They do. He knows it isn’t long but they’re both laughing loudly enough that he’d worry if he had neighbors and she still looks so beautiful. They collapse on the bed together after awhile, still holding each other’s arms and their legs on top of each other. She leans forward in a flurry to press her lips to his and pulls away to shove him down against the bed.

“Now come on let’s actually get some sleep!”

He laughs, pulling the blankets up over the both of them again, wrapping her up in his arms and brushing his nose against hers before they fall back into a comfortable silence that actually allows for sleep.

“This is better.”

Another statement of fact.

“Yup.”

Another agreement.

 *Next morning*

 He half expected her to already be awake and out of bed by the time he joined the conscious world. However, as he comes to, there’s a suspicious amount of warmth for him to be the only one under the covers. The hands he can feel under his shirt are also suspiciously, not his. He blinks his eyes open, finding the ceiling staring back at him. She’s to his left, head perched on his shoulder, arm wiggled up under his shirt, hand resting in-between his pectorals, leg crossed over one of his. She looks, divine. He’s died and gone to heaven because she’s an absolute vision. The sunlight is leaking through the corners of the shades and its framing her face in a low light that’s enough to make out the features without being enough to wake her.

Wake her. He nearly startles at the thought. She’s always been an early riser, and several of her other habits indicate her being a (practiced) light sleeper as well. The fact that she’s still asleep at this hour (and he wagers its nearly nine at least) feels like a colossal demonstration of trust. She made herself completely vulnerable with him, and if her body did wake up naturally at her normal time (she joked once that was 4am and frankly Roman hasn’t had the guts to determine if she was serious), she’d obviously chosen to go back to sleep. He’s floored. He shouldn’t be, he supposes, two years is more than enough time to cultivate trust, but at the same time, he treasures it. This gift she’s given him.

He brings his hand up to rest on hers over his shirt, trying to be careful not to disturb her. Her face scrunches up anyway and he runs his fingers along hers soothingly in an effort to postpone the inevitable. She breathes in and her eyes open, darting to his chest then out into the room before turning her head to look up to him.

She smiles, “Good morning” her voice is a little deeper than usual, a little scratchy even.

He hums, brushing some hair away from her face “So it seems I’m not the only late sleeper.” He’s sure his own voice doesn’t sound much different than hers.

She spits her tongue at him, and he smiles good naturedly before kissing her forehead and mumbling a soft inquiry about her sleep into it.

She grunts, “Well, there was this extremely large man who kept kicking me around midnight or so but he didn’t snore so I didn’t think I could justify shoving him out of bed.”

Roman scoffs “Well that sounds extremely rude, you must like him if you didn’t throw him out, you’ve never been the type of woman to put up with nonsense. Was it anyone I know?” He tries to be casual, to assume nonchalance despite the fireworks of joy and absolute bliss that are currently exploding inside of him at the sheer domesticity of the whole morning thus far.

She blinks twice then frowns at him. “Is there another man in this bed that I’m unaware of?”

He shakes his head, leaning back to get a better look at her face. “Not unless you have something to confess?”

She laughs then dropping her head down against his chest and he abandons his ministrations on her hand in favor of cradling her head against him.

“I’m in love with you, you know.”

She looks up at him and his hand slides down between them. “That is so wonderful my dear. Do you plan to let me have tea before you keep being adorable or is this strictly a before-conscious-thought thing?”

His grin splits his face.

“Well, if you want tea you’ll have to get out of my bed” he traces his fingers up her arm and to her shoulder before brushing them across her cheek. “And I don’t know if I can allow that. For the sake of my health of course.”

“We could just stay in bed then” she muses quietly, eyes never leaving his “Can’t have you risking your health after all”.

He nods, eyes wandering, finding her soft pink lips in the light, swallowing before blinking back up to her golden brown eyes. She starts teasing the small bit of hair that’s within reach under his shirt and he moves his hand to hold her still. She giggles.

“Stop, tickling me.” He chides “I am trying to work up to kissing you”

“Well you have my permission to stop trying and do.”

He does, starting out slowly, bringing his fingers to lift her chin and flattening his other palm against the small of her back. His lips meet hers gently but its only a matter of moments before he wants more, rolling them both so he can lean on the arm that was under her and kiss her deeper. She’s gripping at his shoulders, fisting her hands in his shirt, his lips are warm, and soft; and as she invades his mouth she finds he still tastes like the tea they had last night. She smiles at the memory despite herself, breaking the kiss and laughing softly through her nose before Roman interrupts her by laying swift pecs all over her face. Eyebrows, cheeks, bridge of her nose, hairline, eyelids, jawline, back to her nose, and before he gets in more than two or three, she’s laughing hysterically and halfheartedly begging him to stop. His response is to start tickling her.

Because she’s here, in his bed, and of course he’s going to make her laugh.

******************

Second time she stays over its “We could run through the house after we turn the lights off?” She looks up to him with a brilliant gleam in her eye “To be safe from the monsters?”

His grin splits his face and he grabs both of her hands “Let’s do”

They do just about that, laughing and giggling all the way.

***********************************************

[thepurebredking]

Q & A w/@DhestroyLegacy

Brian: I was pacing in my room, everything was too fucking much. Way too fucking much for me to process. I was knocked out and dragged back to who the hell knew where. The woman flipped shit the moment she saw me, she did NOT look happy. Nor was I to find out she was...his lover? I didn’t know. The term was so...foreign to me. I debated on growling, screaming, something. I haven’t tried the door yet, I didn’t want to. I didn’t know what was on the other side. For all I knew, it could have been my death. Strangely, that wasn’t what scared me. No, what scared me to find her, or someone else not happy to see that I existed. Inhaling I walked over to the door and turned it and opened the door slightly to see the guy who knocked me out. I was about to growl but then stopped myself. He nodded in greeting, “Wrath would like to see you in his office.” My fingers clenched, I wasn’t stupid. A hot head, sure, stupid, no. He walked ahead of me, like if he didn’t care if I was going to follow him or not. We both knew I’d follow him though, so I did. My head hung down low.

Wrath: It had been about an hour since Marissa had erupted through my door. She was pissed that I hadn’t told her about Brian before she ran into him at the Audience House. I tried to explain that I did everything I could to keep her from running into him before I had a chance to tell her about him, but all she kept getting hung up on was the fact that V and I had known for over a week and hadn’t told her sooner. But, we couldn’t have. We weren’t sure. We just had this kid that looked pretty similar and a hunch. We needed proof. So we waited until we had it. Then we needed to talk to the kid to find out where his interests lay. Did he just want answers, or did he want more than that? There was no reason to give any of this information to anyone, if Brian was just looking for answers, and once he had them, he was just going to go on with his life. Yes, we would have told Marissa about him. But, we all know, there is a distinctive line between their world and ours, and if Brian decides to choose his own, that would be it.

Marissa had stormed out about half an hour ago and left me to my own thoughts on the matter. I wasn’t sure how this was all going to go over, but aside from Marissa, most everyone else in the manse was looking forward to getting to know Brian better.

There was an abrupt knock on my door and I heard Micah on the other side. “Sire. He is awake and ready to see you.”

“Come on in.” I called out.

Brian: The door opened and I slipped inside. My nerves were shot. How the fuck did I get myself mixed into these damn situations. I didn’t bother to look up and see where we were going, there was no point to. I was too busy stuck in my own head, but when I looked up and heard the other’s voice. I automatically stiffened my spine, and took a seat in front of him. I didn’t know what this was about, I did exactly as he had requested. I stayed put at the other place. I didn’t know what to really say, except…”I’m sorry.”

Wrath: Michah led Brian into my office and I thanked him before releasing him of his duties. “Thank you, Michah. Please go find V and let him know that Brian is here.”

Michah promptly left and I turned to the kid in front of me. I could sense his discomfort as he slid into the chair. “There is no need for sorry.” I wasn’t even sure what he was apologizing for. “I imagine you have some questions.” Where to begin? “So, we’ve told you a little about your great-grandsire. Cop was a great male. He was much loved by our family. As I have told you, he was a distant relative of mine own, as well as Manny’s, who you can meet in a bit. We have made everyone at the manse aware that you are here. They are all looking forward to meeting you. However, I figured it might be a little overwhelming to be onslaughted by the whole of the manse at once, plus there are a few things we still have not explained that you will want to know beforehand.”

...and now to drop the hammer… “We are not like any of the people you have met in your life, so far. We are in fact a completely different species, one the world knows nothing about. Well, at least nothing that is completely accurate. I know that is hard to hear and believe. But, I promise you we are not a danger to you.” I paused, unsure of how to break the final piece, ‘Vampire.’ I was waiting to see how he was going to respond to what I had already said, when I heard the door open back up and smelled the scent of Turkish tobacco waft in. Ah, V. Maybe he could help me get past this little hump.

“So, where we at? What have you told him, so far?”

Brian:  I sat down, crossing my arms against my chest. It wasn’t meant to be offensive, it’s a cop pose for me as I heard everything that was told. Some of it was a repeat, I didn’t think he needed to worry about my sensory overload. What I was worried about though, was the fact that everyone that I’ve met, the other woman, these two, and the servants have told me that I looked like him. Were they going to be able to handle seeing me? Me being around as a reminder?  I rubbed at my hands before leaning over and scrubbing my face as he told me a little bit more about what they were. “The other one informed me of...some things. She didn’t say exactly what you ya’ll were...but she did tell me that my grandsire? Died a few years ago.” I pointed out. Bitterness rang in my tone about that, but I ignored that piece of information, for now. Soon the smell of turkish tobacco filled my nose and I turned to see the other gruff male. Cocking my head to the side, I studied him. There was something...calming about this guy. I looked back at Wrath, a grin spreading my face but I dropped it. Now was not the time to pull stupid humor out of my ass to only have me killed. “You say you’re different from the legends, myths, yadda yadda yadda, how?”

Wrath:

There was a shift in Brian’s scent as V walked in the door. I might have missed it through all the Turkish tobacco that blew in, but my senses were more keen than that. It was as if I could feel his whole body ease into his seat. This was good information to know, a nugget I would tuck away in case it was necessary, at a later time. This was not something new that I did. I could scent people’s emotions most of the time. The slightest deviations in their smell could tell me if someone was lying, afraid, angry, excited… the list went on. As I noticed particular changes in people’s emotions, I would make mental notes of them, if I could tell what the root cause was. It was useful to know what set people’s emotions off.

This may actually be useful now, as I break the information of what we were to Brian. “We are vampires, Brian. Not in the sense of the word you are used to, though. Most importantly for you to know is, we don’t feed off humans. We actually feed off each other, willingly. And, we do not kill your kind. We actually try to keep to ourselves and leave your kind to themselves. Some of the ways we are the same to the myths are, we do drink blood, but as I said, we drink of our own kind, and it is of our own free will. You won’t find us out during the day.” I decided to skim over this part. No need for him to know our weaknesses, right now. So, I moved on quickly, without saying much more about that. “We do have… fangs, I guess would be the word you would use. Things we don’t do... again, kill people, or feed on their blood.”

“And, We don’t turn into bats.” V tossed out. This was a long standing issue for him

I nodded and continued, “We are also not deathly allergic to garlic and religious artifacts. There is obviously a lot more to our world, but those are some of the basics, as far as myths and legends are concerned.” Should he choose to stay in our world, there would be a lot more to discuss with him, but this was a good start.

Brian: I watched their postures, their attitudes. I wasn’t no lazy detective. They were easy to read, well, about this anyway. As if it seemed that it was important to me to know they were telling the truth. I glossed over the word for a moment, it was unconscious thing to do, as he listed the difference between the mythical vampire traits, but there were similarities. Feeding, blood, and allergic to sun. I couldn’t help the snort that escaped me when the other guy mentioned that they didn’t turn into bats. I wiped my mouth to hide the grin that threatened to spread. Vampires. I honestly didn’t know whether to accept it, or to call them all insane, however it made sense when I put the pieces together. “You’re the king vampire then.” I stated, not question. “That’s why it was so damn hard to see you the first day until someone recognized my name because of Butch.” The pieces were beginning to fall into place, but a few things didn’t make sense. “You claim you don’t bite people, but you said great grandfather was one of you, and he died only a few years back…how was he turned?”

Wrath: Sitting just the slightest bit straighter, I nodded in response to the question about me being the King. I had been for almost a century now, and even though there were many moments over the years where I wish I never set my ass on this throne, I was proud of what I had accomplished as the race’s King.

“Your great grandsire was a half-breed. He was only half-vampire. Most vampires go through a transition around the age of twenty-five, in which they inherit all their vampire qualities. Some half-breeds will go through it, while others will not. Thankfully, your great-grandsire did not transition. He would not have had anyone in his life to help him through it at the time and he would have died. However, once he learned of his heritage, and met Marissa, he chose to be pushed through his transition. The only reason this was possible was due to his bloodline, my bloodline. I am the only living vampire with pure blood. The fact that he had my bloodlines in his veins was what got him through his transition.

“You see, when he met Marissa, he had met his mate. It’s not easy to explain to a human what that means. The closest word I could use is imprinting. When a vampire meets their mate, it is written in blood. There is no walking away from your mate. So, he asked us to help him transition and become one of us, so he could live with her as long as she would. Unfortunately, his fate was not as he wished and he passed unto the Fade a few years ago, during battle.” I felt as if I were rambling, but there was so much he didn’t know.

Brian: I nibbled on my lower lip as I took in the information that was given to me. Pieces fitting together, things being dished out by each question. What did I want to ask next? Did I want to ask what happened to him? Or did I want to ask if there was a possibility of him changing me? Did I want to do that? I shook my head to relieve some of these questions that built up in my head, but it wasn’t helping. Vishous cleared his throat, “You can ask, but remember, you may not like the answers you’re given.” My head snapped up, and I watched his diamond eyes carefully. Did he see what was going on in my head? He shrugged. “You’re not exactly trying to hide what you’re thinking by your facial features either kid.” I scowled at him. “Aren’t you just a peach.” I growled. He grinned. I looked back at Wrath, “What was the battle you guys were fighting?” I asked.

Wrath: I couldn’t imagine what this kid was going through, right now. First, finding out that his great-grandsire had not died upon his disappearance like they were led to believe, and second, finding out about the existence of vampires. To say that both were hard pills to swallow was probably the understatement of the century, and between the time it was taking Brian to respond and the back and forth between V and him, I could tell he wasn’t sure what to tackle first. I was about to open my mouth to help him out, when he finally came up with a question. Although, it wasn’t any of the questions I would have expected. I expected questions about the process to transition Butch, more questions about his great-gransire, what kind of male was he, what kind of life did he live, was he happy, did he ever think about the family he left behind (even though Butch never knew about Brian’s father, he did leave behind family). Instead, this kid wanted to know about the battle. It’s interesting how shock can register in the brain.

“As vampires, we have an enemy. They are called the Lessening Society. It’s kind of a long story to get into about who they are and how they connect to us, but let’s just say that our creator and their creator are opposite entities, yet siblings. It makes us sound like pawns in their own private game, and trust me, sometimes it feels like we are. But, the Lessening Society is our crux to bear. Our fight with them is as old as time.”

Brian: So like every other fantasy novel there was a balance here as well. I was trying to sort this shit out in my head. So far? Bupkis. I got bupkis. Meaning not a Goddamn thing. I rubbed my temples and breathed softly. "I don't know why I'm asking this, but I am going to ask anyway…" I wanted to know about Butch but at the same time...I wanted to know more about their world. It was fascinating and I guess I could understand why Butch left the human world. It didn't stop the simmering anger though. "Know what, never mind." I waved it off before looking at Wrath, sitting back and cross my leg over the other. My fingers steepled under my chin as it rested on my index fingers. “Would you mind if I asked how the battle of balance is going?”

Wrath: I was curious to know what Brian wasn’t saying. He obviously wanted to know something of importance to him. But, if he really wanted to know, he’d ask it in his own time. I was not going to beat the question out of him.

“Well, it could be going better… a lot better. Over the past half a century the Lessening Society got somewhat of an upgrade and now they are more difficult to kill than they ever have been. Which, in turn has made it easier for their numbers to climb. Back, almost a hundred years ago, we were so close to wiping them out. But, things changed.” Thinking about the abduction of Lyric and what that meant for their race was difficult. If it weren’t for that one event we might have ended up wiping out the entire race of lessers. “Now, we are fighting for our race around every corner and we’ve lost too many to count, including your great-grandsire. Although, we continue to train new males for the fight and we will not stop until every one of those baby-powerded fuckers are sent back to their maker!” I don’t know how I knew it, but I was sure that one day we would wipe their race out of existence. It was just a matter of finding the right weapon.

“So, with all that you know so far, I have a question for you. Are you just looking for answers to your questions about your great-grandsire, or are you looking to go down the rabbit hole we discussed and learn more about where you come from? Learn about your heritage? Decide which side of the line you want to live on? Because, this is one line you can’t straddle. You either live in your human world, or you live in our world. There are too many risks to allow anyone to live in both. I am willing to give you four days in our world to decide. After those four days, you will have to choose. Or, we could answer all your questions about your great-grandsire now, and drive you home. What will it be?”

Brian: Cocking my head to the side, I studied as he talked. The confidence grew. He said this was my heritage, was it? Honestly, I didn’t have to even think about it. I wanted in. I didn’t know why this world pulled me into the depth of the issues, but it did. I looked at the male behind Wrath, as if he’d give me an answer, but his face was as stoic as a statue. ‘Asshole…’ I thought, and he smirked. Alright, guessing he could read minds. I ran my fingers through my short hair. “How would I be able to help? I’m human…” I told him. “I have no medical training, well...not the one you’d need. I’m easy pickings…”

Wrath: I had a feeling this decision was going to be an easy one for this kid. He was thirsty, and not just for knowledge about Butch, but also for knowledge about our world. I picked up the phone and dialed for the doggen.

Fred picked up on the first ring. “Yes, sire?” He was always ready to server.

“Fred, please make up one of the spare rooms for our guest. He will be staying for a few days.” I pulled the phone away from my ear to address the kid again. “Is there anything you need at your place? We can send Fred to go get it for you, and don’t worry, he is completely trustworthy.”

Brian: I noticed he didn’t quite answer my question, but that was alright. When he made that request, it was all the answer that I needed. Something within me, settled deep in my chest. /Home/. When he directed his own question toward me, I nodded. “My clothes, and for them to hand in my resignation. Something’s telling me I won’t be going back…” Whether it was because I joined their fight, which was an extreme possibility, or I’d eat a bullet. Personally, I was already eager to start the battle.

Wrath: Nodding at the kid, I brought my attention back to the phone. “Fred, I also need you to send someone to Brian’s home to pick up some clothes.” I hung up the phone and raised my head back to Brian, “You can put in your resignation, after you’ve had a chance to mull everything over.”

Turning to V, I continued, “V, can you get him set up in his new room?”

“Sure thing, boss.” came V’s retort.

“Oh, and one more thing, kid…” I heard him stop at the door. “Don’t worry about what you can contribute if you stay. We’ll figure that out later. Everyone has a purpose. You have one, too.”

#QandA #BDBRP #ISRPG

[noodlecupcakes]

Madness is like Gravity - Chapter 2 (Sequel to Nothing More Contagious Than Laughter)

Warnings: ONE LONG ASS CHAPTER, Threesome, M/M/F, Flirting, Sex, Smut, Voyeurism, Oral sex, Vaginal sex, Vaginal fingering, Anal sex, Language, Injury, Alcohol, Polyamory 

I’m gonna go hide in a my shame cave for this one 

Shout at me if you want to be added to the taglist :D  

Chapter 2

Emeralds P.O.V

I awoke in the morning to an empty side of the bed. Of course, he was already awake, probably downstairs talking to Eddie about his campaign. I forced myself out of the comfort of my bed and into the shower before changing to a clean skirt and blouse. I headed downstairs to find the two exactly as I suspected. Only I didn’t suspect Eddie would look so attractive in a dark green suit and his hair all gelled back. Stop staring. But my god those cheekbones. I forced myself out of my trance and sat down at the table, grabbing a few things for breakfast.

Eddie smiled at me, sitting down next to me. I did my best to avoid staring once more, I felt I could probably lose myself in those hazel eyes. Oswald kissed me good morning, bringing me out of state. “So, what’s the grand plan then?” I asked. “Today I’m going to make a speech at city hall and then we have one week to make any more preparations.” Oswald left the two of us to go and work on his speech. “Thank you again for everything last night Emerald, you and Oswald have been very kind-“ Eddie began. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad you’re out of that place and your home. It’s going to be nice to have someone else around the house.”

Why was I suddenly struggling to make conversation with him? Normally I could rattle on for hours to him but now I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. “Oswald said now that I’m living with you I’ll be able to have baked goods on a daily basis,” Eddie smiled. I laughed, “I don’t know about daily but a few times a week yes. If Oswald or Victor even leave any for you that is.” I finished off my breakfast and began gathering the used plates to begin the washing up. “Do you need a hand?” Eddie asked me. “Its fine, I’ve got it.”

At that moment, a plate fell out my hand and smashed to the floor. I cursed, putting the other plates down and gathering the broken pieces. Eddie got out of his chair and began to help. I grabbed a particularly sharp fragment a little too carelessly and it sliced my palm. I winced, making a sound of discomfort, dumping the fragments back on the floor to clean myself up. Eddie rushed after me, looking over my hand. “Well the good thing is you won’t need stitches. Just needs to be cleaned and bandaged,” he said. “I know Captain Obvious, this isn’t the first injury I’ve tended too. And just because you studied shit like this doesn’t make you any smarter than me,” I said jokingly. “It makes me a little smarter.”

I rolled my eyes with a smile, running the cut under the tap. Once cleaned, Eddie wrapped a bandage around it and placed a soft kiss over the cloth. I felt my cheeks burn and quickly pulled my hand out of his grip, mumbling a thank you before rushing back to the dining room to continue cleaning up the mess I had made. I did my best to avoid Eddie until we had to join Oswald at city hall for support. One of us stood either side of him as he made his speech, not that I was really paying much attention to what Oswald was saying.

After the speech, I watched as Eddie followed Butch...those suit pants were awfully tight and didn’t leave much to the imagination. I bit my lip, what the hell was wrong with me? And how had Eddie gone from super cute and adorable to the sexiest thing in the room. Maybe it was the fact I was starting to get bored in the bedroom. Missionary and me on top was literally the only two positions Oswald seemed to know about and he was awfully vanilla. I missed things like being spanked or treated just a little roughly.

I tried asking him to tie me up but he couldn’t understand why I would want that. It was frustrating to say the least. Eddie came over to me, a frown on his face. “Are you aware Oswald’s paying for votes?” He asked. I frowned myself and shook my head. I didn’t really care, I'd rather he wins the election to be honest...for everyone’s sake. I found myself staring again. I was definitely getting lost in those eyes. “How's your hand?” He asked. I blinked, his words not registering with me at first. Focus damnit. “It’s fine thank you,” I finally replied.

Eddie leaned in a little closer, studying my face which caused me to blush further. “I’m sorry if I was inappropriate earlier. That was never my intention,” he apologized. “It’s ok.” It was not ok. This close proximity and obvious tension was not ok. God, I wanted to kiss him. Eddie followed my gaze, his lips twisting into a smirk. “What?” I asked. “Your pupils have dilated, your cheeks are awfully red, your breathings a little heavier and your staring at my lips. I think you want to kiss me.”

I felt panic fill me. Shit. He couldn’t know. Oswald couldn’t know. He'd probably have Eddie killed if something like that happened. I shook my head, I needed to get better control of my emotions. “No. I don't,” I lied. “Emerald we both know you do. Personally, I’ve wanted nothing more than to pin you against the nearest surface and show you just how thankful I really am. It’s obvious Oswald’s been neglecting you, not giving you the love and attention you deserve,” Eddie explained. I pressed my thighs together in the hopes of diminishing the growing heat between my legs. The thought of him ‘thanking me’...I think I needed to sit down.

At that moment, Oswald came over to us, asking if I was ok. No I was not. I decided to play up on it in the hopes we'd get to go home. “I’m not feeling very well. Can we go home please?” I asked, pleading with my eyes. Oswald looked disappointed, it was obvious he wanted to stay. “I can take her home for you Oswald,” Eddie cut in with a small smile. My stomach dropped as Oswald beamed at him. “Thank you, friend. I'll see you two a little later,” Oswald spoke.

Eddie put his hand on the small of my back, leading me out of city hall and to the car. The valet drove us back to the manor where the two of us would be alone. Surprisingly Eddie didn’t make a move nor comment. I headed straight for my room, avoiding him like the plague. However, there was still this raging heat between my legs and let’s face it Oswald was going to do little to nothing to help. But yet there was nothing I could do to satisfy myself, not without knowing Eddie would have gotten what he wanted.

Over the next week there were occasional comments or soft tender touches from Eddie and I thought I was going to go mad with lust. Thankfully I had election day to distract me what with all the drama of whether or not Oswald should be paying voters. Either way Oswald won by a landslide. After the formal celebration at the manor and once finally Oswald had gotten everyone out of the door it just left the three of us.

The three of us were sat around in the lounge, a few empty wine bottles on the table. It was safe to say we were drunk. And I was known to be rather flirtatious when I was drunk. I rested my head in Oswald’s lap and he began to stroke my hair. I had noticed the way Eddie had been looking at me tonight and so had Oswald. “You like her don’t you my friend?” Oswald asked rhetorically. “Of course, but not like that, she’s yours Oswald.” “Ed please, we're all friends here. I can tell you like her. You haven't stopped looking at her all evening.”

I sat up and pressed my body against Oswald, my head nuzzling in to his shoulder much like a cat demanding attention. He turned to me and kissed me slowly. Once he pulled away I shifted so I could whisper in his ear. “I want to play with him,” I whispered. Oswald smiled, his arm around my waist, “well if that's what you want darling then I don't see a problem.” “What is it?” Eddie asked, clearly worried. “She wants to play with you.”

Eddie looked surprised but was soon smiling as I walked over to him. I straddled his lap, placing my hands on his shoulders. “Do you want to play with me Eddie?” I asked innocently. “Yes,” he spoke, his voice just above a whisper. I grinned, my tongue darting out and tracing Eddie’s lips. He let out a shaky breath, his hands resting on my hips. I pressed my lips against his and began grinding against him. His breathing became much heavier and I felt him harden beneath me. About damn time, I’d been dying for this.

The kisses soon turned more passionate, our tongues coming into contact. He still however wasn't touching me; he was still probably thinking this was an elaborate prank. I pulled away, jumped off his lap and headed back over to Oswald pretending to be upset. “I don’t think he wants to play with me,” I said in a hurt tone. “No I do. I’m just still not quite believing what’s happening.” I headed back over to him, tangling my fingers in his hair before kissing him again. He spun me round so my back was against his chest. He turned his attention to Oswald, his fingers on the zipper of my dress.

“May I?” He asked. “By all means, take your fill.” Eddie pulled the zipper of my dress all the way down, kissing the bare flesh that was revealed to him. He then pulled the straps down my shoulders and then the material past my hips until it fell to the floor. I happened to not be wearing any underwear today. Oswald grinned and shook his head. “You'd been planning this, hadn't you? You naughty little minx.” I shook my head, playing innocent before turning back to face Eddie. All formalities thrown out the window Eddie gave into his lust, pulling me into a hard kiss by my hair.

Eddie took my hand and began pulling me towards the bedroom. I giggled and held my free hand out to Oswald. He smiled and took it, letting himself be dragged to his own bedroom. Oswald took a seat in the corner chair whilst Eddie pushed me down on the bed. He climbed on top of me, wrapping a large possessive hand around my neck to hold me in place. Ed loves a neck. I moved my hands up to Eddie's green tie and did my best to remove it. Once unknotted he used it to tie my hands above my head before placing feather light kisses across my neck.

I glanced over at Oswald who was watching us intently and rubbing the growing bulge in his suit pants. I felt another wave of arousal wash over me at the sight before Eddie forced my attention back on him as he flicked his tongue against my clit. I moaned, my hips bucking a little. His mouth latched onto me, sucking on my clit before fucking me with his tongue. I threw my head back, moaning his name as he continued to eat me out like a starving man. Oswald had pulled his cock out, rubbing it slowly as he continued to watch.

I didn't know how much longer I could last, my chest heaving as I fought for even breathing but all I could focus on was Eddie's tongue. Eddie slipped two fingers into me, starting a hard, rough pace. My tied hands moved down and fisted in his perfectly neat hair. I’m sure it wasn’t going to stay like that for long as I continued to grab fistfuls and rock my hips against his face. My moans had gotten much louder and needier. Eddie continued the pace, now determined to make me cum. It didn’t take much longer as I screamed his name, my back arching off the bed.

I collapsed back onto the bed, a panting mess. But I knew this night was far from over, both of these men had their own needs for me to fulfil. Eddie looked completely dishevelled, hair a mess, glasses askew, his shirt wrinkled and untucked and his belt loose. I bit my lip, feeling fresh arousal between my legs. I watched as he undressed himself before he removed his tie from my wrist that had left small red indents from how tight he had tied it. Oswald got to his feet, making his way over to the two of us and undressing himself along the way.

I knelt on the bed, awaiting my other lover. Oswald climbed on to the bed and pulled me into a kiss. I moaned softly as Eddie began kissing my neck. It was almost overwhelming having two sets of hands on me. Oswald began rubbing my clit, earning a soft whine from me. That whine turned in to a loud moan as Eddie slipped two fingers back into my wetness. If I was struggling to hold it together now, I worried what I would be like when they were fucking me. I leaned against Eddie's chest as I was starting to go weak at the knees.

Eddie began a fast pace, curling his fingers against my g-spot once more and Oswald continued rubbing my clit, almost matching Eddie’s pace. I knew I wasn't going to last long at all, not now that I finally had Eddie touching me. He continued to kiss and nip at my neck whilst Oswald gave my breasts the attention they desperately needed. I could already feel my second orgasm building and I knew it was going to hit me like a tonne of bricks. I grabbed a fistful of Oswald’s hair, the closer my orgasm got the tighter my grip got. My hips took on a mind of their own, bucking into the touch of both men.

Finally, my orgasm crested, washing over me completely. I went limp against Eddie as I let out a string of obscenities. My eyes were shut tight as they continued, drawing out every last wave. I don’t think I could take much more, I just needed to sleep at this point. Eddie lay me down gently on my side, still placing soft kisses across my neck and shoulders. He lay down with me so that I was facing him. Oswald lay down behind me, stroking my hair.

“I hope you’re not too tired yet my dear,” Oswald spoke. I made a small sound. His fingers trailed down my spine before he rummaged around in the draw next to him. Eddie pulled me closer to him, hooking my leg over his hip as he began rubbing to head of his cock against me. Ok I was awake again. I bucked against him, pleading with my eyes. I needed him, I'd needed him from the moment he got here and now it was finally happening. Eddie slowly pushed into me, both of us moaning at the contact we had so desperately craved from each other.

He began a fast pace, holding my hip in place. Oswald’s pressed a wet finger against my other hole before slowly slipping inside. The feeling was foreign but not uncomfortable. Eventually he moved his finger, getting me used to the feeling before eventually adding a second finger. I shuddered, clinging to Eddie’s shoulders as he continued to act as a distraction for any discomfort I might feel. He pressed his lips to mine, his tongue in my mouth. I moaned against him, our legs a tangled mess as Oswald positioned himself behind me.

Oswald gently eased himself inside, making sure it was as painless as possible. Finally, he bottomed out, the three of us breathing heavily. I'd never felt this full before. Eddie resumed the pace, his hips smacking against mine whilst Oswald started with a slow pace as he kissed along my spine. Soon enough Oswald matched Eddies pace the best he could. At this point I was completely overwhelmed with pleasure that I thought it was going to get too much. I could feel myself already clenching around Eddie's cock, forcing a louder moan from him.

I tried to will myself to last a little longer but my body wasn’t playing along and threw me into my third and final orgasm. I closed my eyes tight, my nails digging into Eddie's shoulders as I cried out both of their names. Next to finish was Eddie with a low groan and finally Oswald who buried his face into my neck, moaning my name. The three of us lay there for a moment, panting heavily and coming down from our highs. Oswald gently pulled out, placing more kisses across my shoulders and spine to distract me from any discomfort. I rolled on to my back, my eyes now heavy as I welcomed sleep.

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The next morning, I awoke facing Oswald and smiled to myself. He looked adorable when he slept. I slowly rolled over and found Eddie also sleeping on my other side. My eyes widened and that’s when I finally remembered the events of last night. Had we really been that drunk? I shifted my body all the way down to the end of the bed where I carefully climbed out so I didn’t wake both of them. I showered, changed and went downstairs for breakfast. I had no idea what this now meant. I put my head in my hands and groaned.

A little while later Eddie and Oswald joined me for breakfast, both of them talking normally as if nothing happened. Eddie kissed me on the cheek with a ‘good morning’. I froze, looking to Oswald who simply smiled as if it were nothing. They could both see the confused look on my face as they sat down. “Why are you two acting completely normal about this?” I asked. “Ed and I have discussed what happened last night,” Oswald announced. “And?!” “It’s obvious you have feelings for both Oswald and I so the best way to resolve the problem would to be in a polyamorous relationship. If you want to of course. We’re more than happy to have that kind of relationship with you,” Eddie explained.

I couldn’t quite believe they were both fine with this arrangement. I’d expected Oswald to have murdered Eddie in his sleep. But if they were both ok with it then so was I. I smiled softly and nodded, giving them my answer. Yet some part of me still couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

Taglist: @belathora, @my-world-of-imagines, @warriorqueen1991, @genevievedarcygranger, @emoryhemsworth, @neganismyobsession, @just--a--nobody-here, @suicidesqwads, @musicalcoffeebean, @maddybeck01

[lokilover9]

The Slutty Webs one Weaves

Chapter 2

“Why would Loki do this to me?” Astrid whined, twirling her wedding ring around her finger. A large, oval, emerald surrounded by tiny diamonds, set in gold. 

She looked so forlorn, Stark actually felt for her. “Astrid, how many nights have you and Loki been apart since your courtship began?” 

It took her a minute to recall. “Three.” 

“And has there ever been a time you didn’t know his whereabouts?” 

More tears streamed down her face. “No, but you don't understand."

"Try me." 

"Is Vagina special to you?”

“Can't recall a time when it wasn't."

Astrid poked Peppers tit. "I meant this Vagina." 

'Someone failed anatomy class.' "She's my favorite."  

"And did you share your quim wedger all…" Astrid paused, spazily waving an arm. "...Willy nilly like, so bitches wrote filth about it?"

"I used it sparingly and no. Not to my knowledge." 

"Sure you did, playboy billionaire." Pepper dryly remarked.

His foot twitched, knocking over the open vodka bottle. "Weren't we discussing Loki?" 

Astrid started crying again. "Yes and I thought I was special to him, like he is to me."

{"I don't deserve you, my lovely."}

"Now after all this research, I don’t feel like I am anymore.”

{"You'll always be. Please don't cry?"}

Tony gave her some tissue. "I think you're wrong. When Thor told us of you, he mentioned how beautiful and..charming you are, but mostly of how happy you make his pain in the ass, brother." 

Astrid's face lit up. "He said that?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die." 

She gasped. "Why Cootyoodles? You can't die."

"Nooo, I don't actually want to."

"Good. Loki be sad."

"He would?" 

She nodded. "When every human hated him, you were sometimes nice. That's why you're his favorite."

{"He's going to have a field day with this."}

"I'm his favorite human?"

"Mm hm."

{"No gloating, Cootyoodles. Darling, do stop twirling your ring? It's dizzying."}

"Astrid. Midgard has millions of talented writers with creative imaginations. Some perverted, some not. Many could've developed crushes after seeing Loki on social media and their stories pure fantasy. Maybe 'pure' isn't the right word, but don't fret over them. Think of his past lovers as…" 

{"This better be good, Stark."}

"Fornication practice runs. " 

{Loki cackled. "Interesting choice of words. Your Vagina looks impressed."}

While Pepper gave Tony the stink eye, Astrid pondered his perspective. "That explains why he's such a beast in bed." Her thoughts drifted to other pleasurable memories. "Ohhh and his magical tongue."

{"Sinful little appendage isn't it?"}

"Once he…"

Tony interrupted her. "We'll take your word for it. My point is, Loki loves 'you' now." He winked at Pepper. "You're who he wants to share forever with and nothing will ever change that."

{It's true.}

The sloshed Asgardian nearly knocked him off the bed with a clumsy hug. "Thanks Iron Cootyoodles." Then she leaned back with a strange look on her face. "I don't feel so good."

Pepper swiftly dodge her projectile, but Stark wasn't so lucky. 

"Sorry!" 

When Astrid ran to the ensuite, he slipped in her vomit and spilled vodka, landing on his ass. "That's it! Time to suit up and drop her in the Hudson. Better yet, doesn't your dad own a Woodchipper?" 

Pepper smirked. "Shower and go back to bed. I'll deal with her." Eventually she joined him, assuming he was asleep.

"I've been thinking." 

"Tell me tomorrow." 

"Next time you 'are' pmsing, I'm going to call you bitchy vagina pants." 

She whacked him hard with a pillow. "'Night."

Tony pulled a small feather from his mouth. 'Or not, but Butch is definitely a keeper.'

When Astrid fell asleep, Loki muted the connection to her ring, went to his parents chambers and demanded Frigga be woken.

"Is something wrong, darling? It's terribly late." 

"Please Mother?"

One look from those saddened, emerald orbs and she caved. "I'll inform Heimdall. On one condition."

"Name it." 

"Should the answer to my question reveal itself a lie, Astrid will learn the truth behind a certain piece of jewelry she owns."

"Oh? What's wrong with it?" 

Frigga disappointedly sighed. "Your Father, the charlatan, tried the same trick with me. As a result, he paid interest to the spank bank for nearly a decade."

"Too much information, Mother."

"A plight we unfortunately share. These orgies you partook in on Midgard, did you wrap your Jonson before plunging it asunder?"

Loki froze. "What exactly did Astrid tell you?"

"Things too indecent to repeat." 

'Stupendous. My Mother thinks me a gigolo.' "The answer is yes. Although I'm immune to their S.T.D.'s. Are you worried I may have impregnated someone?" 

"Should I be?"

"I swear Mother, I took every precaution necessary."

"Good. Less chance of Astrid filleting your bullocks. I'll dress." 

"Certainly." 'Thanks for reminding me of that possibility once sobriety kicks in.'

*****

Tony, having misplaced his car keys, returned to his bar and discovered Loki behind it, pouring a whiskey. 

"There you are. Care to join me? Are you aware your ice bucket is missing."

Iron Cootyoodles wasn't impressed. "Haven't you heard of knocking?"

"On the elevator door? Next time I'll pause it first."

"Very funny. Are you ever going to reveal how you keep bypassing my security?" 

The God smirked. "Perhaps one day, but rest assured it's by means undisclosable. Did you miss me?"

Tony almost said about as much as he'd miss a rabid porcupine, but remembered what Astrid said. "You're tolerable in small doses. Explain undisclosable."

"Has it concerned you that much?"

"Meh, I've only spent days on my system, trying to figure it out. The most expensive security application money can buy, which I've changed the access codes for time and again, yet here you are."

"Tony…"

"Were others to breach it that easily, the material losses would mean nothing compared to Peppers safety being compromised, classified information falling into the wrong hands and how our enemies would utilize it, but hey. Prank away, God of Mischief. Have you seen a set of keys?"

Loki's smirk faded as he vanished them from the bars lower surface. "No, I haven't."

"I'll seek my spare. I'd say make yourself at home, but you always do. Pepper took Astrid shopping. Later." Stark pushed the elevator button and nothing happened. "Are you fucking with this too?"

"For good reason."

"If it means I avoid the stairs, let's have it. We are on the sixtieth floor."

"Tony, my bypasses merely are but pranks. Through the many we pulled on each other, I saw an opportunity to make a friend. Forgive my ignorance in not realizing they would frighten you." 

"Really, Loki? You never once considered that?" 

"No, because neither Pepper, or the Tower, were ever in danger. Nor do I know any of your access codes. Magic gained me entrance and subsequently locked everything back in place." 

"And the classified information?"

"I wouldn't know where to begin and haven't any desire to try."

"Oh. Maybe you're not such an asswipe after all." 

"I'm trying. In the future, I promise never to come unannounced again. Sound good?" 

"I'd appreciate that."