#he got so stiff and weird with a loose dog that ran up to us a few days ago

[theadventurek9]

Ryker has now decided that waiting to finish peeing isn't worth it. That he should start running around before he finishes peeing. Getting it all over himself and maybe on anyone else nearby.

He also has decided that just emptying his bladder completely is not worth it either.

[xfandomwritingsx]

Loose Ends - F!Hawke/Varric

-gif source unknown-

Description: After Hawke and Varric have finally settled down, an old friend makes an unexpected appearance.

Warnings/Labels: Anders isn’t a good guy here... just fair warning. Mentions of slavery and death and orphans and not fun stuff. 

Approx. Word Count: 4,500

A/N: Sequel to Reuniting (https://archiveofourown.org/works/17554700/chapters/41368289) and Scars, but not necessary to read them first.

~~~

Varric could hear Hawke start humming happily as she started to wash up. He closed the bathroom door and smiled to himself. It was a wonder how they ended up here, cohabitating fairly blissfully in her estate after both seemingly starting and stopping the end of the world. Corypheus was defeated. Hawke had come back to Kirkwall. Varric was somehow Viscount. (Even he still wasn’t exactly sure how that one happened.) Everything was weird. But in a good way. Things were finally good.

He tied the sash of his robe around his waist before exiting her - no, wait. - their bedroom. (He was still getting used to that too.) The door closed with a soft click behind him and he walked towards the stairs. When he got close to the railing, he immediately noticed a man in a cloak staring into the fire with Hawke’s oh-so-fantastic guard dog, Moose, laying contently by his feet.

At first he thought it was Fenris. They were expecting him afterall, but not for another couple of days and certainly not at this hour. Varric started to descend the staircase casually for two reasons. The first being he wasn’t too worried about the intruder. For all his buffoonery, Moose wouldn’t let just anyone in. The second was because he had left Bianca in the study and alerting an intruder by running to his weapon was not on his survival how-to list.

“You know it’s not polite to let yourself in,” he called lightly about halfway down the stairs. Moose perked his head up and the man turned away from the fire to look at Varric. His features were clouded by the shadows, but Varric recognized him instantly and his blood ran cold for only a moment before it ran hot. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“Hello, Varric,” Anders greeted him, voice solemn and a little surprised. The dwarf was obviously not who he expected.

“You’re really making me regret not having Bianca on me at all times.” Varric planted himself at the bottom of the stairs, body stiff as he tried to control the anger coursing through him. “And you,” he addressed Moose. “I thought I told you not to let strangers in.” Moose whined and Anders eyes fell to the floor, the bitter way Varric spit the word hitting the intended nerve. “Why are you here?” Just for the extra sting, Varric snapped his fingers and motioned for Moose to come to his side, away from Anders. The hound happily obeyed and sat beside him.

“I…” he paused, searching for the right words. Varric noticed his eyes looked tired and his blond hair had grown, peaking out of his hood down around his shoulders. “I need to speak with Hawke.” Varric nearly laughed as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“The lack of response to your letters wasn’t an invitation.” He really just wanted to punch the mage, but he would feel bad about the blood on the floor.

“I know, but this isn’t about me,” Anders tried to explain.

“It never is, is it?” Hawke’s voice came from the second floor. Both men looked up to see her standing at the railing in her bedclothes, hands gripping the wooden edge and peering down. “Nothing you do is ever about you.” The sarcastic bitterness wasn’t missed by either of them, making Anders wince and Varric bite back a smile. If he was honest, a part of him was looking forward to seeing how this reunion would play out. “Selfless healer who sacrificed everything and everyone for the better good, isn’t that right?”

Hawke’s descent down the stairs was chilling. She kept her hard eyes on Anders the entire time, staring him down and forcing his eyes to the floor. She walked down slow, with purpose, wanting to watch him squirm for just a little while longer.

“I don’t take kindly to intruders in my home.” She came to stand besides Varric. He watched Anders carefully, looking to see if he noticed how closely she stood. He hadn’t seemed to question the fact that Varric had been in her mansion at such a late hour (in a robe, no less!) but perhaps that simply spoke to how close he and Hawke had been before their relationship began.

“There are refugees just outside the city,” Anders began, taking the hint that she wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries.

“There are refugees everywhere,” she countered quickly.

“Partly thanks to you,” Varric added, taking a small pleasure in the way Anders shoulders slumped at them ganging up on him.

“They could use your help,” he kept going, pushing through the guilt they laid on him. “They have family here, but the city guards won’t let them in and I can’t sneak them all in myself.”

“So why not appeal to Aveline?” Hawke quipped even though they all knew the answer. The smallest forced smile graced Ander’s lips.

“I think the only way to appeal to her would be to present my head on a platter.” He watched uneasily as Varric and Hawke looked at each other and shrugged, having an entire conversation without words at his expense. “If you’re willing, I’m meeting a contact tomorrow night at the docks.” When neither of them responded, Anders slowly stepped towards the door. “For what it’s worth,” he paused, looking back at Hawke. “I’m glad you’re doing well.”

“Oh, I’m doing very well.” Her arm bumped lightly into Varric’s and Anders eyes were instantly drawn to their hands as their fingers slowly linked together. Realization finally dawned on his face and Varric didn’t even try to hold back his smirk.

“You know the way out,” Varric dismissed him easily, giving Hawke’s hand a squeeze and enjoying the way Ander’s eyes lingered there. It took him an extra moment, but he left without another word. Once they heard the front door shut, Varric turned his attention to the woman at his side. “You need to teach the dog how to guard a bit better. Foolish thing let him walk right in.” Moose whined at his feet and Varric patted his head.

“And yet he growls when he sees Fenris,” she teased. “He’s just got bad taste in men.”

“So, what exactly does that say about me?” Varric laughed as Moose slobbered on his hand. Both he and Hawke chuckled. “Bed?” he suggested.

“Bed.”

~~~

“Is it bad that I’m considering it?” Hawke asked as they lay together in the darkness.

“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t,” he assured her, turning under the sheets to face her. She gazed at the pale ceiling, watching the small shadows from the last flickers of the firelight. “It’s not like we have any other pressing engagements tomorrow. We could grab Moose and Daisy and it’d be just like old times.” She shook her head softly.

“No,” she said firmly. “Just us. I don’t want to pull Merrill from the alienage and Moose is clearly untrustworthy.” She called the last bit over the end of the bed and Moose whined from his place on the floor; a plush dog bed near the foot that Varric had painfully trained him to sleep in. He chuckled at the poor hound.

“Probably better that way. Daisy is bound to spill to Aveline anyways.” A light smile appeared on her lips and it was enough to satisfy him. He rolled to his back and closed his eyes.

“If Anders has any delusions about staying in Kirkwall…” He could feel her tense up beside him so he reached under the sheets and squeezed her forearm.

“He’ll have an arrow or a knife in his back. Possibly a sword. All depends on who gets to him first.” Her body relaxed and with a slight laugh, she brought her hand up to hold onto his.

“Goodnight, Varric.”

~~~

Once night fell, Hawke and Varric slipped their gear on, slung their respective weapons over their backs, and headed for the docks. The streets hadn’t changed too much. There were roads and building that needed rebuilt, but most nights it still looked the same. Sometimes it felt like the place was getting cleaned up, but mostly Kirkwall was still riddled with the same amount of crime as before. Only difference now was that casual looters and thieves didn’t want to try their luck on Hawke as often.

The docks were quiet. It made it quite easy to hear the hushed sounds of Anders arguing with a man in a dim corner near the edge of the water. Varric and Hawke looked at each other, listening to the disagreement before making themselves know.

“You weren’t supposed to bring them yet!” Anders hissed. “They aren’t safe! I don’t have a place for them yet!”

“This was when we agreed to originally. Now give me my money or I’ll sell your cargo to someone else.” Hawke didn’t like the way this man said cargo so casually or the way Anders’ eyes widened in a slight panic. She glanced at the man’s ship and noted that it did a good job of looking like a regular trading ship. There were just a few details that put a sour twist in Hawke’s gut.

“I’d like to see the cargo,” Hawke announced. Normally she would have made such a comment much more jauntily, but if Anders was involved with what she thought he was, there was no humor to be had. The man turned to look at her and grinned, showing off a missing front tooth.

“A lady ready to do business! I like it!” He waved her and Varric forward, but Anders stepped in to protest.

“Hawke, that’s not necessary,” he tried. She pulled a small purse from her waist and shook it, little metals jingling inside.

“I’ve got coin,” she told the man. “I want to see the cargo.”

“Right this way.” As she suspected, the man followed the lead of who put the most coin up front. She followed him across the small board walkway onto his ship. Sensing Anders’ nerves, Varric nudged him ahead, keeping him between himself and Hawke as they walked aboard. “This is some fine stock that lousy mage collected.”

The few crew members on deck scattered as they walked by, but Hawke caught sight of others lurking in shadows. Armed. Watching. She resisted the urge to reach for her staff. She did, however take a look behind her and notice Varric was seeing the same things she was.

The man came to a cellar door at the back of the ship. He unlocked it and swung it open proudly, allowing Hawke to peer inside. Her stomach churned as the moonlight poured inside, lighting up dirty, scared faces of children. All of them. Children.

“I can explain,” Anders said from behind her, already in a haste. “They needed help. They’re mages, all of them. They need refuge.”

“So you hired slavers to bring them in?” Hawke could see the man slowly reach for the dagger in his waistband when he heard the disgust in her tone. She gave the kids an apologetic look before gently closing the cellar door.

“I had a plan,” Anders defended.

“Is someone going to pay me for the cargo or am I taking my crew elsewhere?” The man asked, already drawing his dagger. Varric was quicker than him though and had a bolt through the side of his skull before he could even threaten to use it.

“I’ll deal with you after we deal with them,” Hawke sneered, pulling her staff from her back as the guards came out of the woodwork.

It was an easy fight, most of the crew, probably unaware of what kind of ship they had been serving, abandoned the deck quickly. The guards that put up a fight, were nothing special. They’d handled people like that dozens of times. Anders, however noticed a distinct change in the fighting style between the former teammates. When he turned to look for Hawke, she wasn’t by his side like she once was. She was in tandem with Varric.

When the last guard fell, Varric and Hawke approached Anders. They didn’t aim their weapons at him, but they made no move to holster them either. He released his staff, hoping to keep things peaceful.

“I don’t think an explanation is needed,” Varric told him.

“How silly I was to think that when you said refugees you meant adults and that just outside the city didn’t mean on a slaver’s ship.” Hawke’s sarcasm had a sharp bite to it.

“It was the quickest way to get them all here at once.” She rolled her eyes at the poor excuse. “I had a contact on the ship. They were safe.” He sounded like he actually believed it and there was a subtle, repressed darkness in his voice that made Hawke wonder just how much of this was Justice.

“Where did they come from?” Varric asked, finger itching to touch the trigger.

“Various places all over the Free Marches,” he told them. “Some were abandoned and orphaned. Others were rescued from the grip of Templars.” His glanced almost regretfully to the cellar door. “They needed help.”

“So you’ve said,” Varric cut him off shortly. “A lot, I might add.” Anders’ brows knitted together and there was a slight twitch in his hand that Hawke didn’t like.

“Leave,” she commanded. “This is the last time I’m letting you go.” She took her staff in both hands, standing more aggressively. “If I see you in Kirkwall again, if you come anywhere near any of us, if you so much as write to us, I will have you killed.” She paused, searching his eyes. “Both of you.” She wasn’t confident if she was speaking to Anders or Justice or if there was even a difference anymore. His tension softened at her threat and he gave her a look that just for a moment, made her heart ache.

“Hawke,” he tried. “I’m sorry.” She knew he was honest. The sound of his voice and the look in his eyes reminded her of the old Anders, of the one she fell in love with. Her tender nostalgia was quashed when his eyes turned to Varric. The subtle look of jealousy gave her a twisted pleasure. Anders turned to leave, but paused for a moment and turned to address Varric. “Please just… take care of her.”

“Oh, Blondie,” Varric chuckled. “The irony here is that you don’t realize I’ve always taken care of her. Even when it should have been you doing it.” While the brutality of the words caused a sting in Anders, it brought an affectionate pang to Hawke and she resisted the urge to throw her arms around the dwarf and kiss him. Anders retreated quickly off the ship and into the darkness of the night. Hawke let out a heavy sigh before turning to the cellar door again.

“Let’s get these kids somewhere safe,” she said to Varric.

When the moonlight poured onto their faces again, they looked up at her hopefully. A taller boy, perhaps just shy of being of age, came forward through the group, pushing littler ones behind him protectively.

“It’s alright,” Hawke assured him gently.

“You’re in Kirkwall,” Varric said beside her. “Maybe not the most luxurious of places, but you’re safe at least.” The boy’s eyes were trained on their clothes and when Hawke looked down, she realized the sight of blood on them was likely not a good sign to the kids.

“We uhhh… took care of the slavers,” she offered for reasoning.

“Where’s the man? The one who took us?” the boy asked. His voice sounded dry. He needed water.

“Anders is gone,” she told him gently, not noticing how Varric scrunched his brow at the boy’s question. “We’re going to take care of you.” A little girl with a stuffed toy peeked around the boys legs.

“Can we go home?” she squeaked. The boy patted her head gently before looking up at Hawke again.

“Are you going to take us all home?” There was hope in his voice and the way it shone in all of their eyes made Hawke ache. They hadn’t agreed to go with Anders. They were taken.

“Hawke,” Varric whispered. “I think now would be a good time to go get Aveline.” Her eyes turned to him slowly and there was harshness, a bloodthirsty look on her face that Varric felt reflected in his core.

“I could still catch him,” she whispered. “If you stay here, I can catch up to him and finish it.” As much as he wanted to let her go, he reached out and wrapped his hand over her forearm.

“We will hunt him down later,” he promised. “We need to take care of them first.” She looked between Varric and the hull of children before sighing. She knew he was right. These kids were the pressing priority.

“Okay,” she conceded. “Go get Aveline. I’ll get these kids up onto the dock.”

~~~

Varric had to tell Aveline to “lecture him later” about three too many times in the short span it took to get her and her guards to the docks. He’d eventually tuned her out and fell back behind her guard just to get out of earshot.

When they arrived, all the torches lit up the docks so it was practically daylight out. There were kids everywhere, mostly huddled in little bunches and they tried to keep to the shadows as best they could. It was hard to watch and even harder to look away. So instead, he looked for Hawke.

It took him a minute to find her and when he did, he felt like his heart might burst. She was sitting on a stack of crates, using a slight bit of magic to keep the area dim for the child who was sleeping with his head in her lap. She looked so different in that moment; legs folded up underneath her, running her fingers through the dirty hair of a small boy taking comfort in her arms.

“I know you have a habit of taking in strays,” he joked quietly as he approached them. “But something tells me this one belongs somewhere.” She gave him a muted glare and didn’t stop stroking the boy’s head.

“He was scared and so tired,” she told him. Varric scrambled up onto the crate next to her and leaned against her shoulder, looking down at the boy. He had shaggy hair that Varric guessed was sandy colored when it was clean and clothes that seemed fairly new. “He was one of the last ones Anders brought in.” Hawke shared. “Some of them were with him for far too long.”

“Any time with Anders is far too long.” Varric reached out and moved some the boy’s hair off his face.

“He wouldn’t tell me about his parents.” There was a slight tremor in her voice that pulled Varric’s eyes to hers. “I think Anders might have…” Dread ran through him. He looked out at the dock of kids giving their information to the guards and wondered just how many of them were orphaned now.

“I already sent a contact to track him.” He told her lowly. An arrow would be too good for him. Varric much preferred the idea of wrapping his hands around his throat. “Aveline will make sure everyone gets back to their families. We’ll get them safe for the night and get everything moving in the morning.”

“Tell Aveline the mansion has extra beds.” His eyebrows raised at that. “These kids shouldn’t be put in the barracks. It’s cold and dingy and a place for soldiers, not kids. The mansion has room.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and rubbed his hand on her back.

“We don’t have room for all of them.”

“We have room for most of them. Orana will love having people to fuss over and Moose will love the attention.” She looked down at the boy, her stroking pauses for a moment. “It’s my fault they’re here.” Varric squeezed her in a half-hug. “I let him go free. I shouldn’t have.” He thought about telling her otherwise, about taking some of the blame himself, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. So he sighed instead and looked out at the docks again.

“Hawke Estate: Orphanage for Lost Mages.” They both smiled softly before he hopped back off the crate to go give the Guard Captain her orders.

~~~

It took weeks to get all the kids back to their families or in some cases, what was left of them. The look on Fenris’s face when he arrived and saw the mansion filled with little ones was an expression Varric would never forget. All of the chaos was almost worth it just for that.

They’d found the Aunt and Uncle of the little boy that had fallen asleep on Hawke’s lap, whose name they learned was Arthur, shortly before Fenris was set to depart. As they were located in the direction he was headed, he offered to escort the boy there. Varric watched from the top of the stairs as Hawke and Arthur said their goodbyes. As Varric suspected they would, they had grown close in the time Arthur stayed with them.

“Fenris is going to make sure you get home safely,” Hawke assured him for what had to be the tenth time that morning. “I know he looks all pointy and scary and unfriendly, but he’s one of the best men I know.” With Hawke on her knees and her attention on Arthur, she didn’t notice how Fenris looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. Varric chuckled softly to himself.

“Thank you,” he whispered before flinging his arms around her neck and nearly knocking her off balance. Varric felt a sad warmth, a yearning even, fill his belly as she returned the little boy’s hug. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” she said into his, now clean hair. She reluctantly pulled away from him and brushed a couple of tears off of his cheeks. “Make sure your Aunt and Uncle write me, okay?” He nodded earnestly. “Now off you go. Time to go home.” She stood up and Fenris outstretched his hand for Arthur to take. He hesitated only a moment, looking at Fenris’s pointed gloves with question, before remember what Hawke had said.

Before walking through the archway, Arthur turned to look over his shoulder at Varric. “Thank you, Mr. Varric!” he called. Varric gave him a wave.

“Anytime, kid.” He had to admit he’d grown a soft spot for him. Varric never fancied himself anything of a father or anything, but damned if he didn’t love teaching the kid to play cards or the look on his face when Varric bought him new clothes. “Take care.” With one more look to Hawke, Arthur followed Fenris out.

~~~

It was a night nearly a month after all the kids had left, that Varric looked at Hawke and asked the question that scared him.

“Do you ever think about kids?” Hawke scrunched her nose and looked at him like she didn’t understand the question. She shuffled some papers around his desk. They were going over the intel on Anders. The bastard was quick, but Varric called in a favor from Leliana who called in a favor from a Crow and they about had him pinned down.

“You mean like Arthur?” she asked, setting some of the papers down.

“Not exactly.” Varric shifted in his chair. “I meant… having kids.” Her eyes widened just a little when she caught up with him.

“Oh! You mean with…” Her fingers pointed rapidly between the two of them. “Can we even… Is that possible?” He watched as she wracked her brain, trying to recall any sort of knowledge on cross-species reproduction and coming up wildly short of any useful information.

“I was putting logistics aside.” He watched as she contemplated the question.

“I never thought I’d make a good mother,” she admits, finally putting the rest of the papers onto his desk.

“Never thought I’d make a good father either and if my bones creaking is any indication, I’m getting old as dirt.” She cracked a smile at him. “But all those kids I think, Arthur in particular, prove there’s no shortage of lonely, lost children around Thedas that could use two semi-stable adult figures in their lives and we didn’t do so bad with them.”

“You were good with Arthur.” She smiled warmly. “It would mean settling down. No more running around to stop the world from ending.” He took a moment to look around the room they were in; an office of sorts in the corner of the mansion’s library.

“I think we’ve pretty much already settled down,” he chuckled. She shrugged in silent agreement. “And having kids would be its own adventure.”

“Wouldn’t that be the truth?” A wide smile burst onto her lips and she barked out a laugh. “Could you just imagine; Aunt Isabela?” He had to laugh with her.

“You think Rivaini would be bad? She’d be a saint compared to Sera!” Their laughter filled the quiet room and Varric felt it heat his chest. One thing was for sure, he never wanted to be anywhere else but by Hawke’s side ever again. Losing that feeling of love and laughter would surely kill him.

“It would certainly be interesting, to say the least,” she mused as the laughter died down. “It’s something to definitely consider,” She drew his eyes away from him and back to the map on his desk. “After we tie up some loose ends.”

“Let’s get to it then,” he told her with one more smile.

He watched her delve back into the papers and mark spots on the map. She studied everything intently. This was the final piece of her past she needed to shut the door on once and for all and he was more than happy to help her do it. Taking care of Anders was going to give them the peace they needed. They peace she deserved.

“Marian,” he called softly, pulling her once more from the papers. He reached out over the surface of the desk and extended his hand to her. She slipped her hand into his and he held on tightly. “You would make a wonderful mother.” A blush actually reached up onto her cheeks and she returned the firm hold on his hand.

“And you would make one hell of a father.”

They’d been adding onto their makeshift family for years. Both of them had more friends than they ever imagined having before. Their family was immense. But maybe, just maybe, one day there would be room for another little member. Should they be married first? Probably. That’s what normal society dictated anyways. But that’s exactly why he’d sent his family signet ring out to be cleaned last week.  

One thing at a time, he reminded himself, forcing his eyes away from her face and back to the papers.

------

Thanks for reading! This seriously threatened to delve into very dark and depressing places with Anders kidnapping kids, but I tried to keep it light despite that. Hopefully I succeeded. If you’ve enjoyed, I ask that you like, comment, reblog, or if you’re really feeling generous, buy me a coffee!  https://ko-fi.com/writerashley

Keep up with my progress on Instagram!  https://www.instagram.com/thatfandomwriter/

[chxoticmuses]

SHIP QUESTIONS THINGY

Status: Accepting

@streetsofsecrets​ / @themercifulmother​ said: our ships?? 🥺 ( Travis & Delores )

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

How did they first meet?: Delores came stumbling into his cab one night drunk and rambling the whole ride.

What was their first impression of each other?: “Wow, she’s kinda odd and seems kinda weird, but she’s very pretty!” I feel like Delores didn’t have much of a first impression since she was drunk. Once she sobered up and met him again, she probably thought he was a total weirdo and creep!

Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?: Travis talked about her to his coworkers a lot and they all encourage him to shoot his shots and pursue a relationship with her. As for Didi…..at least Esme told her it was a good idea to be with him.

Who felt romantic feelings first?: Travis and he felt them the very first night that they met! She trusted him to drive her home in the state that she was in? It was a sign in his head.

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?: At one point, Travis did try to resist the feelings he had for her because he didn’t think he was good enough for her 😔

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?: That it was absolutely true, especially if you told them in their older years. “The universe worked hard at making sure the two of us ended up back with each other!” Is a line you’ll hear Travis say a million times. Even if you told younger them they’ll believe you as well. They’ve never found someone else who understands them and their feelings so well.

GENERAL

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?: I feel like Delores was the one who started initiating and labeling the romantic aspects of their relationship. Travis always did things that made it seem like they were a couple, but she was always the one who was more verbal and labeled things.

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?: Travis took her to a carnival that was in town. At first he was going to take her out to some fancy restaurant and really show out because that’s what people kept telling him to do, but he decided to go with his gut and it went well! They had the time of their lives laughing and riding all the rides, he even won her a humongous stuffed dog at one of those balloon shooting games.

What was their first kiss like?: It was kinda awkward to be honest. He just went in for the kiss while she was next to him on the couch changing his bandages and then there was silence. Then like two minutes later, she kissed him again. Sweet because he was finally able to show her how he felt, but when they reminisce on it they definitely find it awkward compared to their other kisses.

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?: Delores was Travis’ first actual stable girlfriend. He had some experience prior to her; but nothing that was stable and tested like an actual relationship.

What’s their height difference? Age difference?: Neither of them are really considered to be tall and are just shy of average BUT there’s still a significant height difference between them. At least 8in to be exact, so I’d say she barely reaches his chest. Also, funny of you to assume that I’m going to do math. Nice try Xia, but whatever that gap may be I feel like Travis is older by 2-3yrs.

What’s their relationship with each other’s families?: Errrrrm, SKIP!

Who takes the lead in social situations?: It really depends! Delores tends to take the lead or take over in situations that are awkward because Travis usually tenses up and goes stiff in moments like that. While, on the other hand, Travis takes over in tense or aggressive situations. He’s quick to come to her defense and deal with whoever’s Messi big with her.

Who gets jealous easier?: Travis! You can blame Sal for that.

LOVE

Who said “I love you” first?: Delores, I think? If I remember correctly?

What are their primary love languages?: Touch! They’re big on things like cuddling, hugging, holding hands, kissing, and all that lovey dovey stuff.

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?: Not very often. I think they way they move alone, Travis usually very close to her and hovering over her like a protective figure, is enough to let people know that they’re a couple. He might do subtle things like hold her hand, pull her in to his side, or give her kisses but that’s as far as they really go in public.

What are their favorite things to do together?: Sleep! Cuddle! Anything that involves them and a bed (😏). Very therapeutic bonding time for the both of them. Some of their best memories come from being in the bed. You know how people say couch potatoes? Well, they’re bed beets.

Who’s better at comforting the other?: Delores is 100% better at comforting Travis and I think that motel thread we did is a perfect example of why. He tries his best, doing what he can to make her even feel slightly better, but she’s just way better at it then him. She always know what to say or do to get him in his prior mood.

Who’s more protective?: Travis 100%. I feel like he definitely cussed out at least one person at the motel they were staying at for messing with Delores and feeling up on her belly all the time.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?: physical!! Touch is Travis’ main love language. He lets his actions express him words for him.

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?: Like every song from the 60s that’s about love.

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?: I think they stick to each other’s names, abbreviations, and common pet names like honey, baby, etc.

DOMESTIC LIFE

If they get married, who proposes?: Travis proposed with a $16 ring he got from a vendor off the street while they were in their motel phase. Of course, he upgraded to a better ring once they were financially stable. I feel like the $16 ring proposal was more sentimental for them because he gave a very heartfelt speech about their relationship and how he felt about her.

What’s the wedding like? Who attends?;

How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like?: Please, the ever so iconic Melissa and Cecilia! Cecilia is obviously the firecracker out of the two with her explosive personalities but even then they’ve never had a problem that was too serious with the girls. They’re pretty tame in Travis’ opinion.

Do they have any pets?: A dog to complete their white picket fence look and plenty of pats to account for over the years from the girls. Like Melissa’s cat that had to be returned after a day because Travis was allergic and Cecilia’s ferrets that ran loose in the middle of the night all the time and almost got killed by Travis on three (3) separate occasions.

Who’s the stricter parent?: Delores. She knows how to get the girls in line much better than Travis does.

Who kills the bugs in the house?: Travis does. I feel like everyone leaves him hanging and runs to their rooms screaming.

How do they celebrate holidays?: They don’t even invite friends or family over like that to be honest. They prefer to be in their livingroom with each other enjoying the time they’re spending together.

Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?: Travis convinces Delores all the time, heh. She likes to get up early and actually be a productive human, but he’s not going for that! At least twice a week he pulls her back into the bed and forces her to lay with him for another hour or two.

Who’s the better cook?: Delores all the way. Travis can cook, but he cooks dad foods like meatloaf, ribs, etc. but cooking stresses him out so he doesn’t do it too often. Only on holidays or when he’s craving something.

[ranxiaolong]

A Silver Thread

Summary: (Y/N) finds herself distracted by a thin chain attached to the Doctor’s earring, mind adrift, wondering about a small, silver string.

Pairing: The Doctor (13) x fem!reader

Warning: so much fluff, a suggestive comment by Yaz

A/n: My first fanfic for Doctor Who! (for this account! I’m not telling you what I used to write under! Don’t be a creep! jk, love you!) SO… I hope you enjoy my fluffy 13 x reader floof ヾ(´｡• ∀ •｡`)

As the Doctor’s hands waved about in her explanation of some space-y swirly whatchamajigger (which made little sense and caused you to zone out of her excited rambling quite some time ago), you noticed it again, glinting in the light. Your eyes focused on the small earring in the doctor’s ear. It was simple, silver and gold. The Doctor’s arms wildly waving about caused the thin, silver chain connected to it to swing back and forth. Your eyes followed the chain on its upward path to where it ended. A small cuff. Nothing extraordinarily fancy, considering. A few stars that wrapped around her ear. So why did it draw your gaze?

The Doctor turned towards you and your eyes snapped up to hers, feigning attention.

——————————————————

The TARDIS door had just slammed shut behind you, the inhabitants of the planet angrily banging on the blue box. Yaz had halted beside you, using your shoulder as exaggerated support. The Doctor continued her sprint to the control panel, nearly skidding straight past it, to push on various levers and buttons, the TARDIS making her usual whooshing noise signaling her departure from the hostile planet.

Once the Doctor had finished fiddling with the control panel she spun around to face you, the silver chain on her earring catching the light.

Your eyes linger on the metallic gleam.

I wonder how it would feel—

“(Y/N), are you okay?” The Doctor tilted her head slightly with her question, worry tinting her voice.

God that’s adorable.

You shook your head. “Just a bit out of it from running across half of what was apparently a hostile military base,” you teased lightly. Yaz let loose something halfway between a gasp for air and a snort before wandering off to the kitchen to fix a kettle of tea, Ryan and Gram in tow.

——————————————————

You were sitting and playing cards with Yaz and Ryan, Gram taking the momentary quiet to read a book he had found in the library. Some novel printed in the year 5 billion. (Though it looked oddly familiar, with a giant wasp on the cover. You couldn’t quite place it)

Looking at the cards in your hand you gave a frown.

“(Y/N), you have the worst poker face,” Ryan laughed.

Yaz just raised an eyebrow as a smirk edged up on her face.

Ryan pushed all of his salt, sugar, and pepper packets (a quickly thrown together replacement for betting chips) with a smug grin.

You looked over at Yaz, who seemed to be struggling to keep a straight face, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, holding her hands up in mock surrender. You pushed your own haphazard stack in the middle of the table. Ryan raised his eyebrow.

“You sure you want to do that?”

“Yup,” popping the ‘p’ and leaning back in your chair, “besides, Yaz beat me the last four times, thought you deserved a chance.”

Ryan snorted and rolled his eyes, “suit yourself.” Ryan looked over at Yaz, waiting to see what she would do.

Yaz smiled as she placed her cards face down on the table, “I fold.”

Ryan grinned and turned his hand over, displaying a full house of three aces and a pair of jacks. “What’ve you got?”

A full on smirk broke out across your face as you tossed your cards face up onto the table. “Royal. Straight. Flush.” A small accentuating pause was placed between each word.

Ryan looked incredulously at your ten through ace of hearts staring back at him. “I thought you were bad at five card!”

“I am,” you grinned, “but I hate preparing dinner for you people even more.”

Yaz cackled.

Ryan let out a huff before sticking his hand out for a handshake. “Well, I lost fair and square.”

You took his hand and shook it, the grin never leaving your lips. “Aww, don’t feel too bad. I got Yaz pretty good last time, I wasn’t sure if she was going to speak to me for the rest of the day.”

Yaz mumbled “‘mercy killing’” with mild resentment under her breath before looking at you. “Liar, you’re good at this game, you just don’t play well until you’ve got us hook, line, and sinker.”

You stuck out your tongue in protest.

Ryan stood up from the table, “Well, I’m gonna go ask what me grandad wants. I suppose you two still want the same?”

A unified “yup” left both you and Yaz.

Ryan nodded and left the room in search of the library.

“It’s nice that Ryan and Gram are getting on,” you smile at the door where Ryan had exited.

Yaz glanced towards you.

“You like her.”

“What?”

Yaz repeated herself, “You like the Doctor.”

Your eyebrows came together as a confused frown graced your lips, “Of course I like her, she’s my friend. I wouldn’t be traveling with you guys if I didn’t like her.”

Yaz rolled her eyes, “I meant romantically, you moron.”

A flush took to your cheeks, you refused to meet Yaz’s eyes, “She’s just a friend, Yaz. I don’t like her like that.”

Yaz snorted.

“What!”

“You’ve been giving her those googly eyes and have been staring at her non-stop. If you’re trying to be subtle, you’re doing a horrid job of it. I’m surprised she hasn’t caught on by now.”

“I haven’t been giving her googly eyes,” you huffed out, “It’s her stupid earring.”

Yaz’s eyebrows scrunched together, “Huh?”

“The Doctor’s earring,” you clarified, “It’s weird.”

Yaz was no less confused. “I wear earrings, are mine weird?”

You shook your head, “No, it’s just that cuff and chain. It’s really distracting. I don’t really know what it is about it, it just keeps catching my attention. It’s so odd, every time I notice it I can’t seem to ignore it. I keep on thinking about how it might feel, or how the light keeps catching on it or something bothersome like that and I can’t just look away.” You concluded with a noise somewhere between a huff and a growl of aggravation.

Yaz’s mouth dropped open as her eyebrows rose in shock before her cheeks settled in a grin. “Oh my god, (Y/N), you have an earring cuff kink!”

Your cheeks flared scarlet, “No, I do not! It’s just distracting! That’s all!”

——————————————————

The Doctor had taken team TARDIS back to Sheffield, everyone had wanted to get something from home. Mostly clothes that were clean and not covered in smelly alien goo.

(Y/N) had gone to and from her flat rather quickly, and was therefore first back in the TARDIS. After you had finished putting your clothes away in your room, you wandered into the console room, the Doctor nowhere in sight.

You had sighed and turned around quickly, nearly smacking straight into the chest of the excitable Time Lord that was right behind you.

“Oh good grief, Doc, Sorry!”

The Doctor had chuckled softly, “Ah, no worries.” She pushed some hair behind her ear, “Shoulda given more warning.”

You gulped.

“So,” the blonde alien rocked on the balls of her feet, the small chain attached to her ear swaying loosely, “any ideas on where you’d like to go next?”

Your brain only processed half of the words that were just spoken to you. “I’m-I’m sorry, what?”

“Where would you like to go? We’ve got the whole universe, all of space and time! Except some places… can’t go some places, very bad there, can’t cross time streams… but other than that all of space and time at your fingertips. Just say the word and I can take you there. There’s some great planets out there. How about Barcelona? Not the city Barcelona, the planet Barcelona—”

The Doctor continued on her rambling as you zoned out once again, only half hearing something about dogs with no noses, all your attention on the shiny metal clasped onto the Doctor’s ear.

The Doctor stopped suddenly, “(Y/N)?”

What was it about a stupid piece of metal that was so intriguing?

“(Y/N)?”

I mean, sure, earrings, in general, drew attention on themselves, it’s what they were supposed to do.

“(Y/N), are you all right?”

But why were you paying so much attention to it?

“Can you hear me?”

Especially that chain and cuff, for some reason looking at it made your stomach start to feel warm.

“(Y/N—).”

Seriously, what was up with you? When you saw that small piece of metal wrapped around her ear, all you could think about was how it might feel. How she might react if you touched it, ran your fingers over the clasp, lightly placed your lips over—

“(Y/N)!”

You were jolted out of your thoughts, the Doctor right in front of your face.

“Wha-What?”

The Doctor looked at you with worry. “(Y/N), are you alright? You’ve been spacing out a lot recently. Have you caught something?” She took out her sonic screwdriver and quickly scanned you. She brought it to her face to see the reading, but frowned when nothing was recorded as wrong.

“I’m fine, Doctor. I’m probably just a bit tired, ‘s all right.” You sighed, shaking your head dismissively.

“No, it’s not,” a frown still decorated the Doctor's face and her eyebrows creased, “This isn’t the first time this has happened. It’s hardly the second time, even. Is there something you’re not telling me?” She bends down slightly to be eye level with you.

You swallowed thickly.

“I’m fine.”

That seemed to only make the Doctor more stressed. “(Y/N), I need you to tell me what’s going on. If there’s anything I can do, I’ll do it.” The Doctor’s eyes flicked across your face in search of an answer before her body went stiff and her jaw tensed shut. Some sort of thought or realization going through her head.

Ah, shit.

You were about to open your mouth when the Doctor’s quiet (and strangely vulnerable sounding) voice broke through the silence, “Do you want to leave?”

You looked up in alarm.

“No!”

The Doctor startled by your sudden exclamation recoiled back a step.

“I don’t want to stop traveling with you!” You continued, eager to say anything to stay, “I love being able to see all of the wonderful things you show us, all the excitement.” Your voice became more meak.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. So you don’t want to leave,” in your panic of wondering if you were being asked to leave, you didn’t notice the Doctor’s sigh of relief or her mood become lighter. “If that’s not it, then why have you been so distracted lately?” The Time Lord tilted her head slightly to look into your eyes, the silver chain reflecting the light within the TARDIS.

“‘S your stupid earring,” you mumbled.

“Sorry, couldn’t quite hear that, what?” Confusion flickered across the Doctor’s face as she leaned in closer to hear you properly.

“It’s your earring!”

You didn’t mean to shout.

The Doctor reeled back from the sudden outburst, eyes wide.

Unable to stop the words from spilling from your mouth, cheeks heating up from embarrassment and refusing to make eye contact, you continued, “It’s been driving me insane. Every time I look at you and I can see it, I can’t look away for some reason. It’s like it keeps nagging away at my brain.”

The Doctor’s nose scrunched in confusion, “Is there something wrong with it?”

Your face was starting to burn, “No, nothing’s wrong with it. It’s just…” you trailed off.

“Just…?” the Doctor prompted.

You looked straight into her eyes, red painting your face completely, “I really want to touch it!”

Silence.

Oh God, you just screwed everything up, didn’t you? Now the Doctor would think you were weird for wanting to touch her earring, of all things. She would think you were weird and then become uncomfortable having you around, but she would be too polite to show it. Then after a few weeks, maybe days, she would ask you to leave because she wasn’t comfortable around you anymore because of your stupid outburst. Why did you have to say that? You should have just kept your mouth sh—

“Okay.”

What.

“I said, Okay,” the Doctor responded gently to the word you didn’t realize was said out loud. “You can touch my earring if you like.”

You paused before nodding slowly and the Doctor bent down slightly for you to touch the metal accessory.

You raised your hand up to her ear, hesitating before softly touching the piece in her earlobe.

You notice neither the Doctor closing her eyes nor the shaky breath she releases at your touch.

Your fingers trace along the shape of the silver adornment, your fingers momentarily brushing along the Doctor’s ear.

The Doctor inhales sharply.

You continue running your fingers along the trail of the Doctor’s earring, your fingertips tracing along the chain, all of your senses focused on the captivating piece of jewelry.

As the tips of your forefingers reached the end of the chain, you hesitated slightly before running them around the cuff. You swipe your thumb softly over the front, taking in all the smooth bumps and edges along the line of stars.

The Time Lord hoped you couldn’t hear her hearts hammering away in her chest. (Of course you probably couldn’t, you were human. Human hearing wasn’t fine enough to be able to hear the pulse of another creature from so far away. It was just a figure of speech.) Having you so close, your scent completely surrounded her, and it was not doing good things for her self restraint. She was already having trouble with you living on the TARDIS. Constantly distracted. Wasn’t good really. Even now, all she could think about was how would it feel? Your soft hair, your smooth skin, your plush lips—

You eventually pull your hand away, a bit regretfully, and slowly bring your hand to your chest, clutching it within your other unconsciously.

The Doctor took an extra second to savor the memory of your fingers so soft upon her skin. She finally opened her eyes slowly, pulling away, her ear still tingling from your touch.

The Doctor’s eyes focused themselves on your face and swallowed, conflicting thoughts racing through her mind. Hesitating, leaning a few centimeters closer, hesitating, withdrawing, repeat.

You bite your lip looking at the Time Lord distracted by her own thoughts before in an instance of bravery—or possible stupidity—you took a  few paces forward, rocked yourself onto your toes and pressed your lips right on the side of the Doctor’s face, breath tickling her ear.

“Thanks, Doc.”

You scurried away quickly back to your room before she could see the red taking over your face. You may still be distracted by it later, but at least you pulled together the courage to get closer, you would take your silver linings wherever you could get them.

The Doctor stood there in a moment of stunned silence before she touched her cheek, her finger then playing absentmindedly with the silver thread.

She refused to answer the rest of Team TARDIS’s questions on why she seemed more happy than usual nor why there was a grin wider than normal seaming to be plastered to her face the rest of the day.

[sunnysynthsunshine]

San-Soho (The Young Ones/Black Mirror)

note: even though there are meta-references to the actors playing these characters (Rik Mayall and Ade Edmondson) the characters are still the same, even if they have similar appearances as their actors outside of the “san soho” realm.

Some dialogue I have added in myself, but the rest of the fanfic’s format was based on the original script of the Black Mirror episode San Junipero written by Charlie Brooker and directed by Owen Harris) they own the concept,and (The Young Ones was written by Ben Elton,Rik Mayall and Lise Mayer, Directed by Paul Jackson,Geoff Posner and Ed Bye, with the characters belonging to the actors who played them).

Britain's equivalent to San Junipero is San Soho

(when Rick Pratt wanders San Soho he meets a punk called Vyvyan as their lives change forever)

(this is also mainly told from Rick's perspective)

Chapter 1

The year was 1985

Walking along the sidewalk of neon sparkling Soho was the sarcastic but socially timid Rick Pratt,

A young man in his early 20s he was dressed quite plainly

He experienced 1985 before this was one of those many times

He decided to visit the local nightclub

He had a loose grey shirt, black badge covered blazer and red boots on, not usual nightclub attire but he wasn't really a party person so he focused on Pac-man which he was not good at

when suddenly he saw a beautiful orange-haired man in a trihawk dancing on the dance floor to The Clash.

Rick tried to ignore the punk but he noticed him

“Oi!”

He tried to run off but the punk kept gesturing to him moving his head in his direction when he wasn't moshing

“Wanna join”

“Pardon?” Rick said unable to sense the gesture due to the loud atmosphere

“Right” the punk mumbled before he ran over to Rick and dragged him to the dance floor to join him

“You're going to enjoy this” the punk shouted before Rick started to mosh

Swaying his body in an animated fashion like that of a vintage cartoon character

The crowd was crashing like a wave except covered in spike studs and band logos

Rick felt like a stammering Ian Curtis as he clambered making sure he didn't hit anyone

He ended up clambering with that punk from earlier.

Part of Rick wanted to enjoy this cool “rebellious” activity but the other felt like he was ruining the event simply by being there.

He felt uneasy he didn't want anyone thinking anything weird was going on.

Rick was unsure about the concept of moshing but tried to continue anyway.

Chapter 2

When the song was over he left the dance floor he felt a bit embarrassed he could feel his nerves acting up so he just sipped his lemonade and walked out the fire escape door.

The punk from before caught up with him “Why are you running away?” he asked

Rick  made an awkward smile “Sorry I’m not into *moshing*”

The Punk answered back “No shit you were like the world’s most stiff giraffe back there”

Rick was going to walk off only for the punk to say “I was taking the piss...obviously”

“I’m Vyvyan, sorry for forcing you to mosh with me, I only get to do these on Saturday nights

Rick sat on a low wall

“It wasn't that Everyone was looking at us crash into each other”

Vyvyan tilted his head “Why would they care?”

Rick made a couple miming gestures with his hands

“You know? two blokes grinding into each other like cheese graters”

Vyvyan lit a cigarette and smoked it

“Okay: one, there’s not as many uptight tory folks here as there used to be, and two,

This is a punk part of town nobody’s judging here”

“You want one?” he offered as he leaned over holding his lighter to where Rick was sitting

Rick nodded as he also took a cigarette

Vyvyan spoke again “if they were staring it’s because they were intimidated by me sod em”

Rick chuckled “your such a stupid fascist you know that?”

Vyvyan smirked proudly “Thank you��

Rick looked at the sky “I’ve never moshed before”

Vyvyan stared at him surprised “Never, as in you’ve never gotten a gang of mates to just destroy the dance floor to Iron Maiden?”

Rick shook his head “Never I’d usually listen to punk rock music alone

Living in a right-wing house that was frowned upon, tattoos, androgyny the whole lot

Vyvyan was shocked “What are you a hermit? that’s one drab existence you’ve got there”

Rick shrugged

“They vote the pigs, the officers attack people like rabid dogs I want to be a revolutionary Anarchist poet but I can’t do much else they worship thatch like she’s God outside of literature I’m politically pathetic”

Rick looked down when Vyvyan sat next to him

“Yeah, Well. No one knows about half the shit I’ve done, like Riding a motorbike up someone's staircase”

“With your folks, they come from a different place on the political spectrum tories will always be nasty in my eyes”

“Yep I agree with you there, it doesn't help to have no mates, they simply don’t understand concepts like shyness, trust issues or anxiety

I get panic attacks sometimes around crowds and what they say is just deal with it.

“from past social experiences I’ve had to repress many things depressive episodes, nerves and flashbacks just because I don’t want to bother others or bring the mood down”

“I always feel weird when put into lively situations but that’s because I haven’t gotten the chance to fully express myself in that way”

Rick kicked his legs against a wall when Vyvyan looked at him

“What would you like to do that you’ve never done before?”

Rick smiled “Oh so many things I’d like to go to concerts, I’d like to perform for people, I’d like to, I’d’ like to

Vyvyan put his finger on Rick’s lips “Soho is the party hub of London might as well nick all the time we have left while we still can”

They went to fortune tellers, they went to thrift shops, they bought some “magazines” and they checked out the local comic strip club seeing the likes of French and Saunders, Alexi Sayle and Peter Richardson and Nigel Planer onstage telling jokes.

Rick and Vyvyan then ran off to a pub where they got completely sloshed usually Rick would be able to hold his lager but when “Come On Eileen” was playing on the radio Vyvyan had thrown him into his arms as they danced until after a few more minutes Rick was getting tired and Vyvyan was getting bored “Boring bastard” he mumbled angrily as he grabbed Rick’s sleepy face shoving his head into the cake that was in front of him.

Rick cheerfully said, “Hey Vyv this is like Laurel and Hardy or do you prefer Chaplin?”

This ramble of questions cascaded into Vyvyan yelling “Shut Up!” in Rick’s face

Rick was suddenly silent he was probably asleep but then Vyv remembered what he said about mental health before as he quietly carried Rick over his shoulder driving him back to his place in his yellow Ford Anglia.

At Vyvyan’s house, he let Rick relax on his sofa covered in his universal monster themed blanket

He was about to mumble “I’m sorry” when Rick suddenly awoke to scoff “You bloody fascist” pointing his finger at Vyvyan aggressively before he threw a tantrum “You got your hands over me  How dare you! And to think you thought you’d get a snog from me”

Vyvyan was annoyed but not annoyed enough to get violent so he chased Rick around the room

There was a short intermission from the fight when Vyvyan accidentally turned on his record player making the Cliff Richard hit “Living Doll” play which made Rick pause going into a dream-like trance badly singing out of tune

it was not long until they were both yelling “Virgin” at each other while pillow fighting.

However, because of the fun “fight” as they were no longer angry they were laughing

When Rick’s pigtails were undone Rick then pulled at Vyvyan’s hair leaving orange hair dye stains on Rick’s shirt

What started off as a chase around the house, dancing and pillow fighting resulted in Vyvyan trying to playfully choke Rick only for him to aggressively hug Vyvyan in return

After the snog and shag was over

Rick innocently licked his lips “I’ve never done anything like that before”

Vyvyan smirked “All the more reason” as he unlocked the handcuffs from his bed

Rick hesitated “you're a lovely bloke. I can’t”

Vyvyan shrugged “Alright then”

Rick stumbled over his words “you see -I?”

Vyvyan nodded “I understand”

Rick looked at the time and scrambled to get his clothes on before he was about to dash outside “I have to go”

Vyvyan stared “in this crap weather?”

Rick shouted back “It’s been great to meet you”

Chapter 3

He shook Vyvyan’s hand before he left

Later in the early morning, Rick was looking around his wardrobe for different outfits

He tried a green suit but it didn't work, he tried a basic shirt with a tie and jeans that didn't work, he even tried a blue and red anorak but that didn't work so he just had to settle with his pair of yellow dungarees.

A few days later at the same club, they met at Vyvyan tried to talk to Rick but he was talking to someone was that Peter Richardson’s son he was with?

He wandered into the restrooms that Rick had went off to he surprisingly still had his pigtails in

They said nothing

Rick looked in the mirror his hands on his cheeks unhappy a fake smile projected on his face amongst the red lip balm smudged under his lips

“I don’t know how to do this”

Vyvyan was confused “do what?”

Rick whined “Just help me can’t you just”

He settled “It’s like talking to a bloody hologram”

Vyvyan looked down and then back at Rick’s upset face he smiled

“You want to get in my car?”

Vyvyan raced his Ford Anglia down the highway the street looking like it was a 1980s music video

Rick asked, “How long have you been here?”

Vyvyan answered, “In Soho?”

Rick nodded

Vyvyan thought for a while

“ a couple months but the main thing is I’m planning to enjoy myself before I finally pop my clogs...guess I’m a lurking wanker like you”

Rick chuckled “Yeah”

Chapter Management

Edit Chapter

Chapter 4

Vyv’s car suddenly ended up in the upcoming lane luckily they prevented danger as the car skidded to a halt

“SHIT!” Rick yelled

Vyvyan started erupting into laughter his gravelly nasally voice being more loud than the traffic

“Your face”

They then went back round to Vyvyan’s place to have another shag even though outside of the dream system version of Soho Rick and Vyvyan were virgins

They then chatted about their past loves Rick apparently once had a big crush on a Scottish makeup artist and they remembered about when they watched the comic strip days before that Vyvyan and Jennifer Saunders were making subtle body language to each other.

Rick then remembered not only were they in the simulated afterlife of Soho but they were fictional characters with vague memories of the meta actors who played them in real life

He looked at the clock and then remembered something dark,something secret something Vyvyan should never know.

“I’m just going to party and nothing is going to stop me not Tories and definitely not that facist God”

Rick then walked off in a huff

Vyvyan continued to enjoy life in Soho without Rick but that was hard

A few days later and Soho looks like it’s in the 2000s

Vyvyan walked into the night club while Feel Good Inc by the Gorillaz played in the background

Vyvyan could see Rick with his hair down in more “Emo” attire playing dance dance revolution only for him to stop when he noticed Vyvyan.

Vyvyan started hounding Rick with questions in the restroom

“Wait a minute I’ve been looking for you why did you piss off like that?”

Rick was irritated “Why are you here?”

Vyvyan shouted “Why did you hide from me?”

Rick ran off some people could notice when Vyvyan saw that Rick was on the roof of the nightclub

Vyvyan ran up to where Rick was “Please tell me your pain slider is turned down”

Rick moved his eyebrows “Maybe,Maybe not”

Before he walked away “I’m not going to jump”

Vyvyan sighed looking down and then back at Rick “Look I’m sorry alright,I’m a lurker too I-I

Rick felt solemn “I don’t know how long there is,I wasn't prepared for this I wanted to…”

Vyvyan shut him up with a kiss

They had another passionate night in Vyvyan’s place but then the unpleasant question was mentioned again

Rick exhaled “I have 3 months”

Vyvyan whined “Why? I’ll have nobody to play fight with at the pub every night nobody to have slapstick arguements with it’s not going to be the same”

Rick explained “my real life self, he was married he had kids,he had a happy life he entertained many but then he took a tumble on a quadbike and lost part of his spark eventually that caught up with him and he’s in the afterlife now I’m still around because I’m a fictional entity he created but like with imaginary friends I’m fading the more I’m forgotten I don’t want the same fate"

Vyvyan started to sob “Don’t leave me this way”

Rick smiled at him “I’m dying the people’s poet is dying nothing but that scares me”

Vyvyan whimpered “I want to visit you,let me say hi”

Rick again walked off the time changed from 11:59 to 12:00

Later a more grown up Vyvyan arrived at a hospital 

he now had glasses and was balding looking like an old man he was taken to a private room where Rick was quietly resting he was a lot more older than before he looked like he was in his 40s or 50s.

he looked at Rick for a moment

“It’s time for you to pass over and me soon probably”

He shrugged,

Vyvyan then took out a ring and put it onto Rick’s frail finger

As he was given the device to transport him and Rick back to Soho

After a few days, he did the same 

It was a sunny day in early March when in Soho Vyvyan parked his car near the seaside as he ran over to rick who was folding his hands happily,

“Miss me?”

Vyvyan  was lost for words “Of course I bloody missed you Happy Birthday” he shouted as he aggressively hugged Rick in an embrace as they ran along the seaside chasing each other like old times.

The End~

(dedicated to the late great pan global phenomenon,Lord of Misrule and Peoples Poet) Rik Mayall (1958-2014) (The Future is as bright as you make it, Love is the answer~!)

[lavenderhyrdrangea]

A Much Needed Consultation

Viola’s hair came out in clumps when Butch ran a wide-tooth comb through it. Her jaw dropped at the sight of each ratty strand tangled around the teeth.

 “What are we going to do?” She sputtered.

“We?” He used the pointed end of a rat tail comb to clean the hair, yanking away at the more stubborn pieces with his thumb and index finger. “This is between you and your hotshot robot here.”

Wadsworth quit his flitting about. “Excuse me? I was instructed to keep the treatment in her hair longer because her roots were strong, ‘like something grown out of a mutant’s scalp.’ Which is beyond me since I’ve never seen a mutant with hair.”

Still at work on the comb, Butch nudged his chin in Dogmeat’s direction.” You might as well go on and say something, mutt. That way you’ll be in on the fun”

There was a large chance that Dogmeat had absolutely no idea what he was talking about but he barked anyway—More likely at the attention than anything else.

“My hair emergency does not need your sarcasm right now.” She pulled at a loose hanging strand above her ear. It slid out with ease and she flailed it in front of her. “See?”

“Well quit pulling on it, Nosebleed.”

“It was going to fall out anyway.” She shot back.

“Let it then.”

"I don’t think you understand. Baldness and shedding hair is not the type of look the Lone Wanderer should be having.”

Butch snorted.  “And they call me vain.”

“Butch. You spend thirty minutes every morning in front of the bathroom mirror, making sure that thing on your head is slick with pomade and gelled to a certain angle.”

“It’s called the Tunnel Snake.”

“Whatever. Do you have a diagnosis for me or not?”

He stepped back from the living room couch she sat on. There was a narrowing of his eyes and a rubbing of his chin. Where did this serious Butch come from and how long had he existed? As far she knew this was that same moron that replaced her hand lotion with mayonnaise back when they were kids. 

Butch’s hand dropped from where it was and he ended up shoving it in his Tunnel snakes jacket pocket as his shoulders squared. Maybe in spite of herself her thoughts had written themselves all over her face and he read them straight.  

“Looks bad.” He said. After taking his place behind the couch again, he took the comb and parted her damaged hair to expose more of her scalp. He pressed gently. “No chemical burns though. The damage shouldn’t be permanent.”

“Aha! Good one Master.”  Wadsworth said at the horrible pun that would’ve slipped by had he not said anything.

She rubbed her temples. “I’m pretty sure there’s still a mess in the kitchen. Go clean it.”

Wadsworth left but not, of course, without muttering something about the perils of working under her and how little he is repaid for his service.

“How long did you leave that stuff in for?  An hour?” Butch asked.

Viola grew quiet.

“An hour? Are you kidding me?”

“I know as a stylist--”

“Barber.”

He always corrected her but this time he sounded like he was seconds close to seriously taking a pair of clippers to the rest of the hair on her head.  

Viola softened her tone. “Right, Barber. I know you probably salivate at a the challenge of a ‘thicker’ hair type but you haven’t had to comb it. “Ugh.” She shuddered “That comb.”

“Thick hair or not. Leaving the perm in for as long as you did was dumb. A professional could’ve told you that.”

“We’re broker than broke, so it’s not like I could’ve gone to Snowflake.”

“You do know we live together right?” He asked.

“I didn’t really have you on the top my list when I was looking at all my options. Maybe next time, Deloria.”

“Sure. Next time.”

His smile stiff, Butch rearranged the combs in his hair tool belt on the wobbly table across from the couch. Dogmeat swiveled his ears forward.  Inching closer, he watched Butch’s hands and then eventually fell into sniffing them. He nuzzled them. Butch dropped a comb. “Tell the pooch to get away from my tools.”  Dogmeat just looked at him with those warm, round eyes. He eased his hands back to where they were and gave him a soft pat on the head. “For now.”

She should have him told dogs appreciated scratches behind the ears not pats like the pre-war cartoons back in the vault made them think. But with things as they were that mode conversation would’ve veered off somewhere weird too.

“Dogmeat, want to listen to a song boy?” She turned the knob on her Pip-boy. Dogmeat’s ears perked up at the static of the changing radio stations. “Let’s see if we can find something good, huh boy?” She ended up on the Galaxy News Radio where Three Dog played Maybe by the Inkspots. It wasn’t Dogmeat’s favorite but it still got him on his hind legs,  pressing his front paws and his weight onto her. She grabbed both paws and whirled him around as if they were slow dancing. She sung and he howled along to the line, “Maybe you’ll think of me when you are all alone.”

Playtime was short lived. With a yawn, Dogmeat took his paws from her and leaped onto to his favorite pre-war style chair with the thread and stuffing ripped out.

The dance ended with her back turned to Butch. “I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t get you to do my hair. That one there would have been under your feet the whole time.”

She felt him stare. “Yeah, I guess so.” He said.  Though finished the sentence seemed empty.

Heat crept up her neck. Viola went for the front door. “Stuffy in here.” She murmured. A breeze seeped in through the small crack she made by placing a worn wood plank between the door and it’s frame.  The slight chill tickled parts of her scalp. “I’m going to have to get use to that. I’ll need to wear a hat out later.”

Butch asked, “What do you plan on doing when you head out?”

She leaned against the wall near the door and folded her arms. "Same old wasteland stuff that I’m always up to. Poking my nose in random people’s business. Sniffing out extra caps.”

She paused and moved her arms so she was hugging herself.

“Maybe looking into some new info on Project Purity.” She finally offered. Butch usually gave her space to do whatever but she had to feed him the vaguest of information because anything a tier above a bar fight was action he wanted in on.

With his eyes low, he grumbled about going upstairs quickly. When he came back down he had something that made clinking sounds in his hand.  “Take this with you. You can stop by Snowflake’s this time.”

Her eyes widened. She shook her hand a little to hear the clinking again. “You had caps like this this whole time?”

“Sure did.”

“You never mentioned them.”

“What? You think I can’t make my own dough out here?  I’m a barber.  Not to mention a wanderer like you.” He snapped.

There it was.

“I didn’t say that.”

He hesitated before he gave in, “You didn’t.”

All of a sudden it appeared that he found the small hall to the mini kitchen a lot more interesting than their mess of conversation. That area was the usual safe haven for his booze and no doubt he had a taste for some at the moment.  

“You...you,” Frustrated, he plopped onto the couch, slumped down into cushions and drummed his fingers on an arm rest. “You usually disappear without telling me much so I get up to some things while your gone. Because the Butch-man ain’t about waiting around for nobody, you know? Most of them are errands. Running back and forth from Megaton to Rivet City. A lot of my top paying clients from my first gig are actually from Rivet city anyway, so it made a load of sense to just factor the errands in.”

“You do all that on your own?”

Butch stopped his drumming to glower.

“Yeah, and I know how to use the big boy potty too,” He shook his head “From how you were talking two months ago I thought you would be more goody-goody about these types of things”

 That day when Butch sprained his ankle and they talked about everything they ever wanted came rushing back.

“I meant everything I said then.”

“Considering that I’m some kind of glorified house sitter in that mind of yours, I’d say you got an odd way of showing it. Is this some nerd thing I’m not getting?”

“I need to give my actions time to catch up with my words a little. "She admitted

“You sure are taking it awful slow.”

He had a point. She couldn’t go on telling him one thing and then doing another, all while taking forever.

She sat on the other side of the couch. “Before you. Before even Dogmeat. I was out here on my own. Nothing can really prepare you for the Wasteland. I thought I would never adjust but I did what I had to. I got use to long walks on my own, the constant looking over my shoulder and not having much of anyone to really talk to but Moira. After a while, that panicky feeling I had the first time I opened the vault door pushed itself into the back of my mind. I had survived on my own well enough. Then everything came back.”

She spoke under her breath, “Oh boy did everything come back.”

“When I found my dad I felt like I was back at home. The dull colors, the beeping machinery, the antiseptic smells, the soft medical cots—I remembered all of it.  I even remembered him telling me to pinch my nose and tilt my head back to stop a nose bleed you and your buddies caused. Then he was gone. Then Amata sent her distress signal. Then I was literally back at home and you know what happened with that—that was gone too. And now here you are, a fresh vault dweller, doing your best impression of Humpty Dumpty every chance you get.“

A meek, “Oh”, was all he managed.

She hoped she didn’t sound as bitter as she felt.

“I’m sorry. I know you didn’t leave the vault just to hop into another one. “

“You’re right. I left that place behind for a reason. Besides, I can’t run a gang from inside this dump.” He said.

The beginnings of another argument was on the tip of her tongue but she did her best to bite it back.

“You also can’t run a gang if you’re laying out in a ditch somewhere with rad poisoning.”

“Can’t run a gang without any members either.” He retorted, meeting her muted annoyance.

In normal instances she would’ve treated the threat of being kicked out of the oh so tough Tunnel Snake Gang like a Radroach charging at her: a non-problem easily taken care of. It never bothered her before. Why did it now?

“But,” He slapped a hand on her shoulder “Lucky for me, one of my best recruits is a dynamo.”

His typical moronic naivete made her break into wan grin.

She rubbed her fingers up and down her neck. He hair catastrophe hadn’t been dealt with yet. “And what if your dynamo recruit decided to become another one of your customers? How would you fix this?”

Butch pulled back and took a good look at her mess. “For starters no more perms until we take care of that damage. We’ve got to cut the hair that can’t be saved and figure out what to do with the rest of it. I see a taper cut working for you. All your hair piled on the top. Shaved at the back...”

[themurphyzone]

Oneshot: A Mammalian Match

So in Platypus Onesies For All, I made a terrible error. I did not actually write about the glory that is Heinz Doofenshmirtz in a platypus onesie. This oneshot is a kind of a sequel. 

It was Dress Up Like An Animal Day. This year, the day happened to coincide with the dinner party the American division was hosting for the international branches of the OWCA. The most recent memo encouraged dressing like an animal instead of the formal attire of years past. 

While Perry would’ve gotten away with just his fedora, he felt terrible leaving Heinz hanging. Matching was much more fun anyway. And he was touched that Heinz bought a little ocelot hoodie that even came with a fake tail just for him. It was much cozier than the stiff material of a suit. 

Perry also allowed Heinz to apply kitty whiskers with a thin paintbrush. There were three black streaks on each cheek, easily washable of course. 

“I can see why this is so popular,” Heinz said, flipping the bill of the onesie over his fedora. “You wanna feel? It’s really fuzzy. Hopefully not too fuzzy though. You know how when you’re wearing winter socks and the fuzz gets caught between your toes? That’s what it feels like.” 

Perry ran his fingers up and down Heinz’s arm, chattering as he felt the material squish in his hand. 

Heinz grinned. “I know you like it too. We don’t have to leave just yet. We can totally get away with being fashionably late. Why do they call it that anyway? What does fashion have to do with an inability to show up on time?”

Perry tugged him to his feet. They were going to arrive on time, and that was final. 

OWCA sure knew how to pick the venue. They’d rented out the local convention center, which had been renovated to include a brand new ballroom. It was such a big deal that the local news had done a special segment over the building, complete with interview from Roger himself. 

Perry had a great time playing ‘keep the remote away from Heinz in case he threw it at the television’ that night. 

“Remember when you thwarted me when I tried destroying this place with the Rocking Chair-inator?” Heinz asked, wiping a tear from his eye. “Man, good times. I wish I’d gotten a picture of your face when you got thrown on top of one of the statues. That was priceless!” 

Perry scowled, then pointed at the greeter, who was staring at Heinz in disbelief. Not exactly the most tactful thing to say to someone who made their living here. The greeter made a big show of checking their tickets to stall them, and Heinz protested the entire time. 

Finally, they were allowed in. The dining hall was straight ahead, several large banquet tables set up in the middle with assorted fruits and cheese neatly lining fancy silver platters. The animals mingled with each other, while the humans were more content to stick to the group they flew in with. 

Candace was right about accidentally starting a fashion trend. Platypus onesies were definitely the most popular costume of the night. The Australian branch was completely decked in teal and orange. Even the echidna and kangaroo with them had platypus memorabilia. 

Upon seeing Perry and Heinz, they gasped and surrounded them completely. Perry shifted nervously, and Heinz laughed. “Shy in front of your own fan club, Perry the Platypus? Come on, if any guy deserves a fan club, it’s you! Though I’d totally be the president of it.”

“I follow your blog! Did Perry the Platypus really blow up all your inventions?” 

“Why is his fur teal?”

“Have you ever been stabbed by his venomous spurs?” 

Heinz lifted his hands in a futile attempt to quiet them enough so he could talk. “Not all of my inventions. Just the ones used for evil. I still have Norm though. I hope he isn’t making too many muffins again. He destroyed the kitchen last time he made them, you know. And I have no idea why his fur is teal. A mutation maybe, and I read up on the venomous spur thing. He doesn’t need those to inflict a world of hurt.”

Satisfied, the agents took several selfies for keepsakes. Perry sighed in relief when they took interest in a few avian agents. 

“Come on, so people are giving you a little attention,” Heinz said. “You should be happy about that!” 

Perry shook his head. Fan clubs just weren’t his thing. 

“Yeah, I guess if you’re supposed to be a secret agent, you aren’t supposed to be drawing attention. That’s why secret’s in the name. Whoever heard of an attention agent?”

Perry grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the buffet table. They would both need the energy if they were going to socialize. Since it was still early, the servers had only put out the appetizers. It would be an hour before the main courses were brought out and they were called to be seated. 

The table was so high that Perry had to sit on Heinz’s shoulders to get a good look at the food available. There were several odd looks from some of the stuffier visitors, but Perry paid them no mind. He was more concerned about directing Heinz so that he got enough marinara with his calamari. 

Heinz settled for the crackers and loaded his plate with every slice of cheese available. Perry hopped off and grabbed the plate of calamari from him, completely coating a ring with sauce before eating it. 

“You could’ve said please,” Heinz complained. “Or sign-languaged please. Do platypi have a word for it? Or is this one of the things that doesn’t translate?” 

Perry shrugged, popping another piece into his bill. There was no need for him to give his ‘I’m hungry’ chatter here. Besides, that was the closest thing platypi had to the magic words. 

Heinz played with his food, the tip of his tongue sticking out as he concentrated heavily on arranging the cheese in a strange pattern. After a few minutes, he finished and proudly displayed a cheese and cracker version of Perry on his plate. 

The body was made of Colby Jack, while the bill was sharp cheddar. A cracker was broken into two halves, one for the hat and the other for the tail.

Perry took one of the creation’s pepperjack arms and chewed on it. Heinz grinned. “I’m just gonna pretend you liked it and didn’t eat your own arm.” 

“There you two are!” someone exclaimed. 

They whirled around to see Major Monogram approaching them. Perry wasn’t sure if his scowl was directed at Heinz or at Carl. They’d made a bet a week before, and Carl won. As a result, he got first pick of the animal costumes. 

And now Major Monogram was dressed like a chipmunk. 

Perry quickly saluted his superior, although he knew he it wouldn’t be that professional anyway. He flicked off a small speck of cheese stuck to the side of his bill. 

“Nice ocelot outfit, Agent P,” Major Monogram said. “Your onesie is tacky, Doofenshmirtz. And unoriginal. Everyone and their mother is wearing one of those now.” 

Heinz raised an eyebrow. “Sure, Monobrow. At least mine is trendy. Chipmunks are so 80s of you. Just out of curiosity, what would you and Carl have dressed up as if you’d won that bet?” 

“It was only a lucky fluke,” Monogram grumbled. “I would’ve won if it hadn’t been for that meddling kid in the sweatervest and his dog.” 

“Wow, never heard a good guy say that one before,” Heinz remarked. Perry was surprised too. 

It was pretty cliche though. 

“I would’ve liked to go as a bear. Probably would’ve stuck Carl in a fox costume,” Monogram said. “Enjoy the party, I’ll see you at the table when we’re called down. I’d better drag Carl away from the other squirrels. Catch you later.”

An almost civil conversation between Heinz and Monogram. Weird. 

They spent the next thirty minutes learning of their apparent celebrity status in the international branches. The cat in the Japanese division had started purring and rubbing herself against Perry. Her superior and Heinz had to work together to pull them apart when she’d latched onto him, her front paws digging into his hoodie. 

Thankfully, they broke apart before her claws could damage the material. Her superior apologized profusely to both of them. The cat pouted as she was reprimanded sternly for her behavior. 

“Probably the jacket,” Heinz said. He gently knocked Perry’s side with an elbow. “Do me a favor and avoid female cats that want to flirt with you.”

Perry shrugged. She-cats just weren’t his type. 

Then Heinz somehow managed to attract the attention of two female agents in the COWCA. Unfortunately, Lyla wasn’t with them since Bannister broke out of prison and she had to go deal with him.

Heinz being Heinz, he didn’t even realize they were flirting with him. 

And Perry wasn’t the sharing type. 

Before he could figure out a good excuse to lead Heinz away, an announcement sounded over the P.A. “Attention, everyone take your seats at your tables. Dinner will begin shortly.” 

Thank goodness. 

The table even had name cards. Heinz quickly snatched Monogram’s card and crossed out the last half of his name with a red pen, replacing it with ‘brow’. He also scribbled a smiley face with the tongue sticking out. Then he put the card back, giggling. 

Heinz wasn’t a bad guy anymore (loosely defined), but his pettiness would never go away. Perry could live with it. 

Carl flopped down in his chair, crossing his arms at Monogram. “You could’ve just asked.”

“I asked four different times, Carl,” Monogram retorted. He frowned at his name card. “Monobrow? Seriously?”

Carl high-fived Heinz. “Yes!” he cheered. “I love karma!”

Now was one of those times Perry was glad he couldn’t speak. Otherwise Monogram would find out that listening to Heinz say ‘Monobrow’ all the time occasionally made Perry call him that in his head too. 

“Hey, I consider Monobrow one of the best play on words I’ve ever made,” Heinz laughed. “I mean mono and uni are prefixes for the same thing, so the name still fits. Besides, I gotta be original here because making fun of that mustache is way too easy.”

“Making fun of that beak you call a nose is way too easy,” Monogram muttered. 

Heinz frowned. “Wow. You should really learn something more original.” 

The entrees arrived, several large platters of food being set in the middle of every table. The calamari had been delicious, sure, but one small plate wasn’t going to fill him up. 

Heinz grabbed Perry’s plate and scooped the mashed potatoes and chicken for him. Perry flashed a thumbs up and dug in. Monogram snatched the serving fork as Carl was reaching for it. 

“Rude, much?” Heinz whispered. 

Perry shrugged. He would take this brand of rude instead of the whole ‘humans are the superior species’ stuff any day. The sensitivity training Monogram had been forced to take was clearly not working. 

As they ate, someone came on stage on started talking about ‘unity’ and ‘integrity’ and a whole bunch of other ‘-ties’. Perry wasn’t paying attention. The food was too delicious for him to care about some stuffy guy giving a speech. 

And Heinz. It was hard to pay attention when his best friend was decked out in turquoise. 

And rocked it too. Not that he’d ever tell him that. 

Perry needed to figure out a way to thank Candace for accidentally starting the fashion trend. Ah, well. For now, he was going to enjoy the rest of the night.

[thorne93]

Lost and Found (Part 5)

Prompt: Imagine finding a lost dog, but it’s not just anyone’s lost dog. Who will show up at your door to claim the pup?

Warnings: maybe language, lost dog…

Word Count:1646

Note: My precious doggie went missing on 6/10 and no one has spotted her or turned her in to the local shelters or anything. I miss her so much, but it inspired this fic. Texts are in italics. Thanks to my darling beta @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​

Tags: @amarvelouswritings​ @blackwidow-romanoff​ @cocosierra94​ @firstgal34​ @harleyquinnandscarletwitch @sebstan01 @camigt1999 @elleatrixlestrange

~~~~~~~~

A buzzing woke you up. Brad.

 “Are you coming into the office or working from home?” he asked.

 “What? Brad it’s only--” you started, groggily before you glanced at the clock on your wall. “Holy shit. I’m so sorry. I’ll work from home.”

 “Okay. What happened? You’re never late.”

 “I can’t say. Talk to you later.”

Before he could ask further, you hung up on him, glancing over to Sebastian. So it wasn’t a dream. Sebastian really slept with his arm around you. He looked so gloriously peaceful.

 As much as you wanted to curl back up in his arms, you knew that would be kind of creepy, so you just got up and made coffee, hating every step farther away that you got. As soon as you popped the pod in the Keurig, he woke up, stretching.

 “Woah, stiff neck,” he said.

 “Oh, shit, I’m sorry. Yeah that couch isn’t the best for crashing.”

 “At least I had good company,” he said with a grin. “Thanks for letting me sleep here.”

 “Well, it’s not as if I’d kick you out,” you said with a slight laugh.

 He grabbed your hand on the counter and squeezed it. “Thanks again, I should probably go so you can work and stuff. Talk to you later?”

 “Yeah, definitely.”

 “Great.” He grinned at you before taking Chuffy back on his leash and leaving.

 “He stayed the night!” you texted Ida.

 “Hell yeah! Get you some!” she responded.

 “No, not like that. He just...we fell asleep together on the couch.”

 “That’s lame, but I guess congrats. :p So how was the date? Good I guess?”

 “Idk if you could call it a date.”

 “What did you do?”

 “Walked his dog, talked, watched TV, and ate.”

 “That was a date.”

 “Whatever, I gotta work. Ttyl. :p”

 You were giddy all day. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been this happy or this excited to see or talk to anyone.

 Sebastian started to text you a few hours later, hoping that you were feeling okay after sleeping on his uncomfortable form. You assured him you would do it one hundred times over. It was a bit more flirty than you had been, but you were trying to take Ida’s advice. If you wanted this to go somewhere, you had to make it apparent that you felt the same about his advances so far.

 The rest of the day you worked comfortably from home, texting him all day. You talked about work, music interests, and hobbies a little bit. You were slowly but surely getting to know each other. Eventually, he made a comment about Chuffy though. He stated that his vet was disappointing him lately and not keeping proper records of him.

 “Oh, use my friend Ida. I brought Chuffy to her when I first found him. She’d love to take a look at him.”

 “Oh, really? That’d be great. Could you maybe take me tomorrow and we could get lunch afterwards?”

 You audibly gasped. He was asking you out again? This was a dream come true. Quickly, you checked your schedule and it was relatively free. You shot Brad a notice that you’d be out of the office in the morning until mid afternoon.

 “Yeah, I’d love to.”

 “Awesome. I’ll be at your place tomorrow morning. That cool?”

 “Sounds perfect.”

 “Great. I’ll see you then. Good night.”

 ----------

 The following morning, you ran around like a maniac, showering and scrubbing extra hard, fixing your hair in loose waves, fidgeting with makeup over and over again, you popped about thirty breath mints, rearranged everything in your house to look perfect, and at 9:30, Sebastian was there with Chuffy.

 Throwing open the door excitedly, you greeted him.

 “Hey! And hey there, buddy.” You crouched down to pat his furry head.

 “Ready to go?” he asked sweetly.

 Nodding, you reached back in to grab your purse and set off towards Ida’s office.

 “Have you lived in New York city long?” Sebastian suddenly asked.

 “Yeah, since I was 18. Came here for college, then all those shitty tech jobs I told you about, then figured it was a good place to put roots for a business.”

 “Did you think it was going to be that huge when you started?” he asked sweetly. “I mean, like, was that your goal or…?”

 You huffed out a laugh. Why was he so curious about you? You didn’t want to talk about your boring ass self.

 “Not exactly.  I just wanted something to cover the city, and within three years, we were being demanded all over.”

 “That’s highly impressive.”

 You shrugged and smiled. “I suppose. But what about you? Did you think you’d become a big time movie star?”

 “Oh, hell no,” he said with a smirk. “I was lucky to get a few small roles in things here and there and I thought I’d really made it, ya know? Five speaking lines and ten minutes of screen time was like a dream come true. I switched agents though when I got a lull in my career and it suddenly just shot off. I was reading more scripts than I could handle, being offered jobs, going to casting calls all the time…I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”

 “No, no please, ramble away,” you encouraged.

 He smiled at you, a heartwarming, heart melting, breath-stopping smile before continuing. “So, yeah, I got a few good roles and pretty soon the whole thing took off and I couldn’t keep up with it.”

 “That sounds really nice. Is it everything you wanted?”

 “All that and a bag of chips,” he responded with a sideways grin and a wink at you.

 That wink nearly made you trip into traffic before Sebastian caught you.

“Y/N!” he called as he grabbed your jacket sleeve and pulled you back to him. You had never been this close to him before, but now you were two inches from his chest. “Be careful,” he breathed. My god, his aroma was even musky and heavenly. Was everything perfect about this bastard?

 “Yeah, uh, I’ll try.”

 Eventually, you made it to Ida’s office. You greeted the receptionist and she eyed Sebastian and it was all you could do to not bitch slap her, but then you remembered he wasn’t yours. She could eye-rape him all afternoon. He smiled politely at her before filling out a form for Chuffy. You two sat down together and it felt weird. You felt like friends, but not? You felt like you were dating...but not?

 Once he was done, they called you into an exam room. Ida came in, her eyes down on her clipboard.

 “Okay, so we’ve got Spinee--Y/N! What are you doing here?” she asked as she looked at you, then the dog, then Sebastian.

 “Well, Chuf--Spinee here has been sick lately,” you explained.

 “Yeah, when I feed him the same food he’s always had, he gets sick. I’ve tried switching brands but it doesn’t seem to help,” Sebastian explained as he looked at his furry companion.

 You motioned with your eyes to look at the dog and Ida gathered her jaw and finally shook her head.

 “Right! Well, let’s see. We can test for worms, heartworm. Y/n, did he throw up when you fed him?”

 “No,” you answered while shaking your head and shrugging.

 “Hmm, you might want to find out what kind of food she’s using,” Ida informed Sebastian. “Let’s get some blood and stool samples and we’ll let you know.”

 She took him back and you and left you and Seb alone in the exam room.

 “So how do you know Dr. Ida?” he wondered as he leaned over in the chair.

 “I met her years ago when I was first looking for a vet. I got a dog as soon as I started college and I met her and we just sort of hit it off. She’s a really great friend.”

 “She seems it. I hope she can fix him,” he said, clearly worried.

 Without thinking much about the gesture, you grabbed his hand. “Hey, if anyone can set your pup right, it’s her. She’s a miracle worker.”

 He stared down at your hand, but didn’t move it away.

 “Yeah?”

 You proceeded to tell him about Marvel and one other dog you had that each had really weird things going on with them and she figured it out and with a shot here, a pill there, they were right as rain.

 Ida returned, gave Seb some pills, and said to try the food you had given him. If he wasn’t better in a week, to call her and let her know. You both thanked her and started to walk out before she grabbed your arm like a vice grip.

 “Hold up, missy,” she hissed in a whisper. “Not so fast.”

 You rolled your eyes. “What?”

 “Now you’re running errands together?”

 “And going to lunch, is that a crime?”

“No, but that ass of his might be,” she said in a low voice as she peeked at his backside while he paid for the visit.

 “Ida!” you said in a hushed angry tone. “That ass is mine,” you insisted with a devilish grin. Ida wiggled her eyebrows as you left the office.

 “So, where to?” he asked sweetly.

 “I’m open to anything!”

 “I know a great Asian place up the street with patio seating for Spinee. That cool?”

 “Perfect.”

 Walking in a comfortable quiet, you longed to reach out to hold his hand. But you refrained. You got to the restaurant, ordered, and began talking again. It was an amazing morning to kick off work. You showed up happy, giddy, and full of buzzing energy. You got so much done, Brad wondered if you’d taken speed. Many people said you were glowing. Sebastian sent you a good night text message and you replied back with a sweet message.

[xjhhfwejr]

12 drummers drumming

The power cut was unexpected -- usually De' handled them okay, settling somewhere between amused and pretending not to be worried once the initial surprise had passed, but this one was...

It came at an inopportune moment, to say the least.

One second she was bent over the bathroom sink, the radio just audible from the bedroom over the storm, staring at her reflection as she scrubbed her teeth; the next, everything was exactly the opposite. The silence didn't even have time to take a breath before the storm crashed again, and her reflection jerked upright.

Startled, her first instinct was to flee. She squashed the urge, peering at the mirror in the gloom, and forced herself to take a breath -- then a second, and then a third. She was almost completely positive there was now something in the bathtub just behind her that hadn't been there when the lights were on, but that was ridiculous. That was the kind of thing a kid would be scared of.

With slow, measured movements, De' finished brushing, spat into the sink, and straightened without taking her eyes off the mirror. She took an almost completely even breath, tilted her head and pretended to check her teeth because that was the routine, and most definitely didn't check the bathtub was still empty.

The storm was very loud.

She turned, took the two steps to the door, and leaned out, still gripping her toothbrush -- not much of a weapon, but the best she could manage. The bedroom down the hall was dark, too. The entire house was dark.

"Riku?"

There was no response -- she must not be calling loud enough to be heard, De' decided, and leaned back into the bathroom, uncertain. He might not even be home yet, right? He'd gone out for milk and she'd assumed he'd got back because the radio came on, but what if that had just been a surge or something? What if he was still out there? What if he was trapped out there?

What if someone else came home?

The apartment wasn't big, and the power had been off for a while, now -- anyone who wasn't Riku would know she was there, and anyone who was Riku was either dead, or about to be once she found him. Why wasn't he coming?

"Riku?" she called again, raising her voice and stretching her arm to put the toothbrush back on the sink. Nothing moved but her.

If she was a little younger, she wouldn't have done it -- she wouldn't have had the courage to. She would have waited until she felt something touch her in the darkness, real or imagined, and then run shrieking into the hall, probably bruising her shins and cracking her head on the wall when she tripped. Luckily, now she was in college, and she was far too old to be afraid of a little power cut.

Lightening crashed, and De' shrieked. She clamped a hand over her mouth to take back the sound and smeared leftover toothpaste froth beneath her palm, which kind of ruined the terror. Grimacing, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and then scrubbed that on her pants, resisting the urge to spit. There should have been a towel in the wall but it wasn't, and she was in no mood to go groping around in the dark for a rag.

Not that she was afraid, there was just no point.

"Riku?"

She called a third time, striding out into the hallway -- but that's as far as she could go with confidence, worried about tripping over something. The sense of something lurking behind her wasn't as easy to ignore, and De' pulled the door shut in her wake, pushing it again to make sure the latch had caught, and wishing there was a lock in it, just for good measure. The house was still and so she moved forward reluctantly, inching along by lightening flashes, hand against the wall to keep her bearings. She made it to the bedroom without incident and then promptly walked into the dresser, her foot catching the door and yanking it shut behind her.

Well. That ruined the tension, too. Her own clumsiness was the perfect foil for terror, it seemed.

The lightening wasn't bright enough through the curtains for De' to make out details, but there were shadows on top of the offending piece of furniture, so something there had to be good for a weapon, right? Better than a toothbrush, at least! She grabbed the nearest object and hefted it, finding it was a...

Hot water bottle. Hot water bottles were not thick, heavy, or useful weapons. She swung it a few times but it hurt her more than the imaginary assailant, flopping back against her hand and almost bruising it with the stiff neck. De' sighed.

She went to put it down, but a sound from down the hall made her freeze. Was that something falling in the kitchen? It could have just been her imagination trying to make sense of nonsensical sounds, but she was pretty sure she could tell the difference between that and a falling pan.

Ohhh, wait wait wait -- what did a smashing lock sound like? That was metal, too! What if the sound had been a lock falling out of door?! De's mouth went dry and her blood ran cold, and instinctively, her grip around the hot water bottle tightened, as useless as it might be.

She didn't call for Riku again.

===

The storm raged on, and De' pushed the bedroom door open -- she crouched low to one side and used a book to do it, ready to trip anyone who came in swinging. The lightening flashed on cue, but all it told her was that there was no-one directly outside.

And she knew, without looking, that all the doors along the hallway were shut.

It makes me feel weird, Riku had complained. With them all standing open? It's like someone is watching.

W e l l. De' had winked, leaning in close in her little apron -- though admittedly with her pajamas still on underneath, because they were cooking and it was only ten in the morning. Let's give them something to watch.

It had been cute at the time, with the bacon burned and the conversation forgotten by the time they were done, but now she wished she hadn't let Riku win the debate. If the doors were open maybe it wouldn't feel so much like a throat -- not a tomb, because the front door was at the other end and plenty of light came in, but the doorway looked like teeth on the wrong angle.

That was a terrible analogy. Was there one that wouldn't make it sound like she was going into enemy territory? Probably not.

If only that was a good enough excuse to stay where she was.

===

It wasn't that being worried about alerting anyone to her presence that stopped De' rushing down the hallway, it was the fact she would end up tripping over something in her haste -- a perfectly reasonable excuse, and it had the added bonus of being almost completely true. Instead she moved methodically, working her way down towards the kitchen, the water bottle feeling less and less like a weapon the further she got from the bedroom.

She had only been going for a few minutes, but it already felt like an eternity.

Suddenly, she paused -- there had been movement in the corner of her eye, like a shadow. Was it the cat? Wait, no, they didn't have a cat. It couldn't have been human with how silent it was, disappearing into the wall, so what was it?

Her imagination. Yeah. Just her imagination.

It didn't matter -- the lightening flashed again, she saw the hallway clear, and De' ran.

===

She made almost to the kitchen before her foot caught on the carpet.

It was a sneaky corner, that one -- always coming up at the worst possible time, and then stubbornly sticking itself back down when you went to fix it. She felt the loose string catch around her toe, pull taut as she tried to keep running, and then she shrieked as her momentum came to a sharp and sudden halt. She pitched forward, and none of it was very graceful at all.

It didn't surprise her much when the figure slipped out from the shadows -- that's when she would have made her move, too, if she was the villain. If there had been more light she would have seen it, a patch darker than the rest, separating and coming barreling towards her. Unfortunately for her assailant, De' wasn't planning to go down alone.

The rubber didn't make a very satisfying thump as it connected with the side of his head, so she hit him again. He had stopped her fall for some reason, so a third time was in order -- this time on the shoulder.

"Dieeee!" shrieked De'.

"Ow!" Riku finally made a sound, pain working through the surprise, and shoved the hot water bottle aside before she could swing it again. "That hurt!"

"Diediedie!" snarled De', and smacked out with her palm. Riku grunted and leaned away from the slap, and she yelped as she lost her balance again. He caught her before she fell far and soothed her blood lust with a smooch.

He missed her mouth and caught her nose, and De' snorted, trying not to laugh at this clumsy attempt. He huffed and she smelled him, knew it was him, and relaxed all at once. He didn't try again, but he did press his forehead against hers. She could almost make out his murky features in the lightening.

"What are you doing?" Riku sighed.

"I thought you were an intruder," De' informed him, quite seriously, and shook her foot like a dog drying itself to free it from the carpet.

"This seems to be a running theme with you, I've noticed."

"I called!" she protested.

"I didn't hear you."

"That sounds like a filthy lie," she countered, frowning, but the hot water bottle was gone and her heartbeat had slowed, so it didn't hold much weight when she was so clearly reassured and calm.

In a horror movie, she thought, this is when the killer would make his appearance. Nothing happened.

"I promise!" Riku held up both hands as he argued his innocence, taking a step back towards the kitchen and away from her wrath. But, as it turned out, even he didn't have eyes in the back of his head -- he smacked into the hallway table and grunted, accidentally kicking it over. He stepped forward again, giving it a sour look, from the sound of his tone. "Oh, whoops."

He never had much liked that table.

"Awww," De' snorted, reaching for his face -- but even with the lightening, she ended up gently slapping his cheek before she cupped it. "Are you hurt?"

"You're making fun," he frowned.

"I couldn't if I tried," she promised.

"And this, after I made you hot chocolate!"

De' froze. Her head jerked to the side, her playful demeanor vanishing.

"Hot chocolate?" she echoed, carefully neutral -- because, you know, if he had, then all would be forgiven, wouldn't it?

"I was going to," he corrected, still sulking over the bruises to his ego and his slightly dented flesh. He made sure to be pointing his head in a direction she wasn't, to really sell the mood. "But then the power went out."

Oh well, all bets were back on, then.

"That's a shame," De' uttered, planning how to proceed. Riku turned back to her.

"Hey, look--"

"I almost died," she informed him, stepping forward. "Defending our home from an intruder."

"I was there at the time."

"How was I meant to know that?" she challenged, stepping forward. He took a step back.

"I--"

The power snapped back on. It didn't come with an audible pop like when it went off, but De' jumped and Riku half-way lowered his hands, having raised them in a placating gesture.

"See?" he stated, in the silence, puffing his chest out. "And now I got the power back on!"

"You," she echoed.

"There's no-one else around, is there?"

He lost his grin as she stepped forward again.

"About that hot chocolate," De' threatened, and he got the hint. She gave him just enough of a head start to get into the kitchen before she lunged for him.

It was good to give him a bit of encouragement, after all.