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Oddworld: Conar’s Ambition, Chapter 9, Draft 1

The twenty-minute way there was relatively uneventful, but there were some cops around interrogating random passers-by. There was even another Big Bro among them, grabbing Scrub and Slig alike by the scruffs of their necks.

“You there!” a smaller police Slig demanded, shoving other pre-checked civilians aside to get to Conar.

“Ugh, here we go,” Conar mumbled. “Yeah, what is it?”

“You know a guy called Wiren? Eyewitnesses said he got green skin…”

He looked Conar up and down.

“…a cracked lens, can you believe…”

Conar turned his head slightly, hopefully enough that the cop didn’t see it.

“…A Slog and Mudokon with ‘im…”

Slim started to step back, trying his best to look like he wasn’t just associating with Conar.

“Okay, buddy, you’re comin’ with me.”

The cop grabbed Conar’s arm and started to pull him away.

“Hey, leggo!” he cried out. “I ain’t Wiren! I got the ID to prove it, and the chip…”

Slim blinked. He didn’t know Sligs were chipped. There was a rumor of Mudokons getting those, but these guys outright knew?

“You think I care?” the cop said. “I got a quota to fill, and a brand-new baton I’ve been dying to test out!”

Conar stopped a moment to look at the baton in his captor’s other hand. It was certainly nice, with silver trimmings and what looked like spikes on one side of it. It even had a handle wrapped in leather.

“Where’d you - ugh – get one of those, anyhow?” Conar asked as he was pulled away.

“What do you care? You ain’t getting one where you’re goin’!”

Conar took a brief look around. The other police he saw was too preoccupied with protesting Sligs and whiny Glukkons to be paying attention to him. They weren’t even caring about Chairman barking, as several other Slogs were drowning him out.

“Good thing I ain’t goin’!” he retorted, taking a good swing and socking his captor straight in the jaw. He went down, falling out of his Pants as he passed out. Conar wasted no time in grabbing the cap and that sweet baton. Searching the Pants, he even found the whistle to call everyone else.

“Hey, I got Wiren!” he called out, blowing on the whistle. “Better take that… that bastard in before he gets up!”

The Big Bro dropped his current suspect and trundled over.

“You sure dis the guy?” he asked, sounding almost disappointed. “I can still shake ‘em all down to check…”

“Look, we got a quota to fill, big guy. You gonna do your job or not?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the Big Bro replied, towering over him. “Juss remember who th’ muscle is, kid.”

With that, he effortlessly slung “Wiren” over his shoulder, giving a curt nod to Conar as he turned to leave. As he spun around, Conar could see the cop’s now-cracked lens. The lights in them were starting to flicker back to life, and they were staring right at him.

“The hell—THERE HE IS! GET ’IM!”

“Wha…?”

“Er, musta thumped ‘im a bit too hard,” Conar managed. “Might take a bit more interrogatin’, y’know?”

“Mem’ry joggin’, you mean,” the Big Bro corrected.

“No, wait!” the cop cried. “It’s me, the guy that drove ya here! Check my chip; it’ll tell ya I’m on the force with ya!”

“You think I care?” Conar asked, grinning wickedly. “We gotta show the boss results, and I got me a new weapon to play with!”

“You bastard! You haven’t seen the last of me, y’hear!?”

“Shut yer yap,” the Big Bro said as the two went through the crowd. “You can talk when we per-say you to!”

“I’m tellin’ ya, I—”

“Shut it.”

Of course, all this noise drew attention. Most eyes were focused on the arrest, but some were still looking at Conar. He adjusted his cap, letting his new baton go slack in his other hand.

“Right, what’re you lookin’ at?” he sneered. “Nothing to see here; show’s over!”

Mudokons, Sligs and Glukkons alike slowly dispersed, forming orderly lines again. A stable equilibrium was reached again, with Mudokons carrying huge packages, Sligs carrying letters and stationery, and Glukkons shooting the breeze when they weren’t too busy looking important. Another cop took one look at Conar and nodded. Some Scrubs were being sent to a Fit-Shape room, where they’d be boxed up and sent to their newest employers.

Slim clutched the bag he had been carrying, eyeing that queue warily.

“Right,” Conar said, “you’re comin’ with me. You’ll… help us get answers.”

Nodding slowly, Slim followed Conar, eyes darting from side to side. As Chairman trotted in front of him, he saw someone. A shorter, greener Mudokon with half a feather on his head, his gaze squarely on Conar. After a moment, he turned back to where the police had gone, and it was clear he was ready to go after them.

Slim didn’t have a moment to lose. He ducked over and grabbed the would-be snitch, dragging him behind a decorative arch.

“What the—Leggo!”

“You planning on ratting us out?” Slim hissed. “You gonna betray a fellow Mudokon?”

The smaller Mudokon squirmed.

“I… I’m sorry, but there’s Brew in store if I turn ya in! Ol’ Lenburr said he’d use some of the cash he’d get to buy the Scrub a round if they got him Wiren, and there he is!”

“That isn’t him,” Slim said.

“It aint?” He looked back. “Coulda fooled me with that description…. Anyway, in’t impersonating a cop a crime?”

“Lemme guess, one that you’d get some brew for reporting?”

“Yeah, yeah!” the shorter Mud rapidly nodded. “A whole shot’s worth!”

“A shot, you say?” Slim grinned, his grip loosening. “How ‘bout a full can, then?”

He gently let go, reaching into his pouch and producing the can of SoulStorm Brew he’d forgotten all about.

“How long’s that been in there?” the Mudokon asked, eyes wide. “W-who’m I kidding, give it here!”

He snatched it from Slim’s hands with frightening speed and strength, nearly slamming Slim into the pillar. Before he knew it, he was watching this Scrub drain the can, his throat carrying gulps that would be large for an Elum. He choked and sputtered, but still persisted in his quest to get his fill.

“Thank you,” he finally sighed, smiling at Slim. “I needed that.”

“So, you’re not gonna tell on me or my buddy?”

“What buddy? I just see a cop.”

“Good lad.”

With one last pat on the Scrub’s shoulder, Slim turned to leave. He heard dry heaving behind him, but chalked it up to the guy having drunken too quickly.

He soon made it back to Chairman, and through him, Conar. While the Slog sniffed and nuzzled his leg, it was disheartening to see that the Slig hadn’t noticed his absence at all. He was still looking forward, shouting for people to get out of the way. He was enjoying this disguise way too much.

“Psst!” he called out, just loud enough for Conar to hear.

“Whadda ya want?” he hissed in response. “Gotta keep this up, ya know.”

“The longer you do this,” Slim said, letting himself be pulled by the wrist by Conar, “the sooner they’ll know something’s up, y’know?”

“You think I don’t know that?” Conar asked. “I’m just tryna get to the front desk, and this is gonna speed it up.”

Sure enough, the two were almost up to the nearest desk, and there was just a Scrub with three enormous packages weighing on his back between them and the clerk.

“I don’t have time for this,” Conar growled, raising a hand.

Slim winced, knowing where this is was going. Poor Mud didn’t deserve getting smacked for just being there.

“You!” Conar demanded, turning to face him. “Help that idiot get outta the way!”

“…Huh?”

“You heard me! Get over there and help ‘im get outta the way!”

He seemed to be oblivious to the odd looks he was getting from others around him. A Slig, a police Slig no less, not taking the opportunity to beat up some sucker? It was almost unheard of! Slim would have to do something if he didn’t want them to get caught.

“Y-yes sir,” Slim nodded, keeping his head down as he joined the other Mudokon, sharing the load.

“W-where you putting’ it again?” Slim asked.

“Outta my way, that’s where! Now move it!”

“Yes boss, got it boss,” Slim frantically said, before pulling the crates and his new companion over towards the wall.

“Ooh, Harv isn’t gonna like this…”

“I don’t think he cares…”

“Damn right I don’t! Not unless Harv bought the law!”

“Er…”

In any case, they were out of the way, and Conar was face to face with the bored-looking Slig clerk, who perked up immediately.

“Ah, what can I do for ya, officer?”

“Yeah, I’m lookin’ for Zeb’s place. Got a few questions for ‘im, and I gotta make a house call.”

“Zeb who?”

“Y’know, the Gluk in charge of the Slog Huts! Quit wastin’ my time and give me his address! You don’t know what’s at stake!”

“R-right…” the clerk nodded, punching away at his computer. “Lessee…”

He peered at the screen for a moment, then turned to Conar.

“Sorry, sir. Looks like he’s out on business for the next week. He’s goin’ to the Fleech Fields headquarters for the Kennel Konvention.”

“Then that’s where I’m going. Gimme the directions, already!”

“Alright, alright, just give me a sec.”

The crusty printer slowly vomited a long dot-matrix sheet, hacking and wheezing as it did so. Finally, the clerk was able to hand Conar a grayscale map, full of ink smears but still readable.

“Right. You’re… off the hook for now, yeah? Keep your nose outta trouble, and all that.”

The clerk nodded, still at attention, but Conar knew he’d be grumbling and making rude gestures behind his back. It didn’t matter; he got what he wanted, and so long as he kept the cop act up for just a little longer, he’d be able to leave without much trouble.

Only problem he could think of is that he’d be expected to leave in one of the squad cars or jeeps. Of course, if he tried to do that, this hustle would crumble in seconds. He got lucky with the Big Bro not paying attention to his story. If he didn’t, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to answer the questions he’d be getting.

As they walked out, Conar’s head occasionally jerked back to Slim, as if hoping for something from the Scrub. Slim’s eyes shifted every which way, his sniveling posture presented for the benefit of onlookers. Still, he noticed Conar’s odd glances towards him. He risked leaning forward a little, taking advantage of a harsh pull from his “captor”.

“What’s eatin’ ya?”

“How we gonna get outta here without being caught?” Conar hissed back. “We just found our lead to Zeb - I can’t get arrested now!”

“You aren’t getting arrested,” Slim replied. “Where would that leave me?”

He stepped back, allowing Conar to drag him towards the exit as he thought about the risks. The outlook didn’t seem so good, especially as the actual cops were probably getting impatient waiting for them, but he was sure there were options…

“Over there!” he whispered, pointing at an Employees Only door.

“What? They’ll bust me for sure—”

“Follow my lead,” Slim said, stepping so that Conar was between him and the employee door. Much more loudly, he said “S-sir! Please, there’s nothing in the…the PO’d Box! You… haha… don’t gotta go there…”

“Oh… oh yeah? We’ll just see about that, now will we?”

With that, the two walked straight through the door, to be greeted with piles of envelopes and papers that reached the ceiling, with many blue-capped Mudokons surrounding them. One pulled a letter, causing half the pile to slide down. He sighed before putting the half-eaten envelope into a tube and tapping a few buttons. It shot up to Odd-knows-where, and the Mud slowly picked up the fallen letters.

“All right, ya bums! We’re lookin’ for a PO’d box, and you’re gonna show me where it is!”

The postal workers stared at him blankly, before one had the courage to step forward.

“Er… the post office boxes are out in the lobby. You passed them, sir.”

Conar looked at Slim briefly, before turning back.

“I… need a key. You better have spare ones!”

“Oh, sure thing! You got the box number?”

“Er…” Conar started, tugging Slim down so they could see eye-to-eye.

“I…I’ll never tell!” Slim said defiantly, turning his head away.

The mailmuds all turned away, knowing that whatever the cop did next, it wouldn’t be pretty. A couple turned back, however, when they heard Conar instead growl “Fine! We’re rooting through all o’ them!”

He turned, seeing their surprise at the lack of brutality.

“…Maybe you’ll fit in one by the end of it!” he added, almost sighing in relief after the Muds did. It was amazing, really; they were more scared of a Slig that didn’t hurt them.

“Now then,” he said, turning around fast enough to jerk Slim forward a little bit, “unlock those damn things!”

All the Mudokons in the room tripped over each other racing for the keys, knowing this would be a team effort with so many boxes to search through. Conar didn’t release his grip on Slim’s shoulder until the last one scrambled into the closet.

“There’s the door,” Slim said, pointing past a blockade of papers and packages. He could just barely see the push bar of a fire exit under all the clutter, the rust contrasting with the surrounding whites and yellows.

Without any hesitation, they ran to it, carelessly shoving a banded stack of tax forms and shoving against the door. No good; the bar wouldn’t budge. They pressed with all their might, but nothing worked. Slim kept pushing, checking the hinges and everything.

“Stand back!” Conar yelled, barely giving Slim enough time before he hurled a hefty package at the door.

Bang!

It was loud enough to ring through the entire room and their heads, but they had done it. The door was open, propped with a box spilling rolls and rolls of Moolah coins out into the alley. Conar had no idea who they belonged to, but with the alarms blaring and sprinklers pouring dirty water everywhere, he didn’t have time to care. He just stopped briefly to scoop an armful up.

“…Really?” Slim glared at him, shaking water out of his cap while Chairman panted, shaking drops of himself.

“You never know,” Conar said, before the three ran to the back, taking a left and not stopping for anything.

He soon became aware, however, of a dim red light shining from behind them. They were being watched. He risked a glance behind to confirm, yup, there was a Suppressor just watching them. He used his free arm to fling that spiked baton he stole at it, not caring that his cap slipped off and was being left behind. While he managed to knock it back and crack its lens, it just shook itself and kept following.

“Crap!”

It was too late; the two of them were no doubt already registered, and their location was being fed to a central network.

“Gimme a gun, now!”

Slim scrambled to find the Popper in the bag he’d had Chairman carry, finally finding it and tossing it to Conar. In return, Conar threw the coin rolls towards Slim, who merely dodged them and let them get left behind. Conar’d have to argue about that later, but for now he took aim with a shaky hand.

POP!

The flying camera fell, lens shattering on the concrete as smoke billowed out from the exit wound. Its mechanical whine slowed and faded into nothing, but the duo knew they’d be hearing the whirrs of others flying to their location any minute.

“Quick! We gotta get that Mool—AUGH!”

Conar was yanked into a small gap in the wall, pressing uncomfortably against Slim.

“The hell’s wrong with you?” he demanded. “We finally get some loot, and you go and—”

“Are you crazy?” Slim whispered, eyes pointing to what little of the sky they could see.

Already, they were hearing the air whine, before seeing the rounded metal of another Suppressor hover into view. Thankfully, it was facing away, giving the two of them enough time to shrink back further. Chairman was busy barking at the camera, and Conar cringed. The poor Slog was going to get taken away from them, and possibly re-assigned. What was worse, he had no clue what happened to Sloggies that didn’t attack Mudokons or rogue Sligs.

He risked reaching a hand out to beckon Chairman, but Slim once again pulled him back.

“You don’t want that trackin’ us again, do you?” Slim hissed.

“Right.”

Conar instead reached out with his Popper and hit the camera square in its round back. Once again, it fell to the ground, forcing Chairman to leap back. Conar winced before breaking free of Slim’s grip and running to his Slog.

“You alright, boy?” he asked, patting Chairman on the head. Thankfully, Chairman didn’t look the worse for wear.

“Y’know,” Slim shook his head, “we oughta let… er, rein that guy in. He’s just gonna give us away.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

With a lot of coaxing and just a bit of tugging on leathery skin, Chairman was able to follow Conar into the alcove before another Suppressor came to look. Before he followed, Slim lifted and dragged the corpse of one of the cameras to block the entrance, the dead red eye staring them all down as they waited.

They heard something rapidly beat the air, and a crude engine sputtering. Conar recognized it as the envy of Slackers, the Pants replacement all Sligs hoped for – the Copter. He instinctively scratched Chairman under the chin, knowing this would at least calm any Slog enough to not growl or bark. He just hoped Chairman wasn’t hungry – if he made too much noise, they’d all be a crater within moments.

They waited, heartbeats almost as loud as the Copter outside, before they could hear it fade into the distance.

“What was that?” Slim whispered, after a few moments.

“A flyin’ Slig with a grenade launcher,” Conar replied. “Now shaddup; he could come ‘round again.”

They waited with bated breath. And waited. And waited.

Slim tried to step out, but Conar tried to pull him back into the hiding spot.

“What? I don’t hear him anymore!”

He broke free, stepping out of the hiding spot and scanning the skies. After a few moments, he shrugged and turned back. Conar slowly stepped forward, while Chairman rushed ahead. The Slog’s head tilted this way and that, and he started to sniff the air.

“What’s with him?”

“Must be hearin’ something,” Conar said, looking as Chairman instinctively shrank back. “Could still be the Copter. We oughta move.”

Using Chairman as a general compass away from Slig Copters, they headed out. They kept to shadows and side streets, but had to resort to ducking behind trash and machinery at times. A few times, Conar had to pull Slim aside to keep him from gagging in smog and blowing their cover. It was difficult to find clearer airs to drag his face to, especially since he couldn’t see anything himself, but it was necessary as they approached Coughworth’s Station.

Actually getting into a train to FeeCo, let alone the Fleech Fields, would prove difficult, however. Train security had tightened since whatever it was Abe had done. There were Copters and Slogs everywhere, on top of the regular Slig patrols Conar would have expected. They even saw a Big Bro standing guard in the boarding area.

“Damn,” Conar muttered, looking past a Bounce Vendo, “they got the joint airtight. You got any ideas, Slim?

“…Slim?”

He looked back, and Slim seemed to be fixated on a patch of that green and yellow mold they were warned to keep from getting into Slog Huts. To Conar’s disgust and confusion, Slim raised a shaking hand, gently placing his fingertips on the disgusting and dangerous stuff. His body twitched, his eyes flickered, and he suddenly turned back to Conar.

“We’ll find justice in deeper bogs, and we shall team up with the Slogs.”

“What the--?”

“For now, though, we’ll have to reside in cargo and with Meep crates hide.”

Smack!

Slim fell to the floor, startling a couple of Ratz who just shook their heads and hopped away.

“I think I see why that Spooce crap’s dangerous,” Conar said. “Makes you guys act all weird.”

“Ow…”

Slim’s eyes refocused, and he slowly got back up.

“…I think… I just saw what we gotta do…”

***

“…No.”

“Come on, this’ll be the easiest way in.”

“But...” Conar protested, thrusting his hand towards one of the Meep. “This?! I’d rather go in guns blazing. At least then I’d have some dignity!”

The Meep looked at the green hand and tried to nibble, but just reeled back, trying to spit the taste of burnt tobacco out.

“Yeah, I’m sure these guys would be saluting your corpse. I’ve seen how you all laughed when that Slig tripped in the Recycler.”

Conar raised a saliva-covered hand, opening his mouth to protest, but he relented.

“…Yeah, point. But…”

He looked down at Chairman, who was growling at the livestock.

Slim sighed, taking a look at some of the other crates.

“I dunno, can he maybe go into some Sloggy cage?”

He heard muffled barking coming from a large crate of thick wood. Slim risked a peek through one of the airholes and, yup, there were at least twelve little Slog pups in there, rinning around and snapping at any loose thing in their crate. Slim was quick to jump back before one of them could see him.

“How ‘bout in here?” he asked, seeing as Conar was checking other crates, falling back as a caged Scrab snapped at him. “There’s just a buncha lil’ Sloggies!”

Conar got up, warily looking at the Scrab before turning to the Slog crate. He nodded, and the two of them were able to lift the lid and drop Chairman in. Conar couldn’t help but feel bad as he heard whimpers, but Chairman was quickly calming down as he seemed to notice the Sloggies and there were sniffs and purrs.

“Right, well, we coulda gone in there—”

“You might’ve been able to,” Slim replied, “If you wanna get eaten alive by twelve pups at once. You know how mean they get.”

“Yeah, I guess… Chairman might teach ‘em a thing or two, though. Sloggies are always looking for a boss of some kind.”

“You tell yourself that,” Slim shook his head.

The two of them heard a rumble, and turned to see that the cargo doors of the car were opening.

Conar wasted no time in shoving the lid back onto the Slog crate before grabbing Slim and throwing him on top of the Meep cage. As he kept his gun ready, Slim found the sliding door for the cage and hopped in. From between the bars, he lifted Conar up by the Slig Pants so he could reach the top, too. He tried to ignore the curious Meep licking his face, but he felt the metal weight lift off him as Conar succeeded in climbing up and in with him.

The two of them ducked and waited. Conar kept his possessions clutched tightly to his chest, while Slim just looked up, keeping as flat as he could against the wall.

“This is what I’m reduced to?” whined a Slig. “Watching the Mudokons lift animals into a train?”

“I told you the Blended Meep Chops were a bad idea,” replied another. “Now shut up and supervise before you get us in more trouble.”

“Yeah, yeah… Now, you three! Get these on the loading dock!”

“Y-yessir!”

There was grunting and the sound of wood sliding on concrete. There was hissing, both from some kind of animal and the steam from a loud machine. Metal found purchase on the wooden crate, and something clicked repeatedly before a loud thump signified the delivery.

Footsteps, and the same sounds over again. Metal scraped on concrete, and the Scrab shrieked, the Mudokons whimpering.

“You don’t wanna get bit? Then hurry the hell up!”

Slim could imagine the cold red glare the Mudokons were feeling. In fact, he didn’t have to imagine; he could see the light shining off him from Conar’s visor. He looked up at the window their crate had, and quickly tapped Conar’s shoulder.

“Hey!” he hissed. “Turn those goggles off!”

“…I can’t,” Conar replied. “For some reason, the damn things stay on until we take ‘em off.”

“Well, take ‘em off!”

“The hell I will!” Conar said, his louder words thankfully covered by Meep bleats.

“Shh! If they see it, it’s over!”

“I’ll just…”

Conar was about to say “empty the bag and put it over his head”, but all his stuff would be out in the open, and any idiot who worked with animals knew you do not leave things out in front of them unless you want them to get chewed up.

“…Fine. But don’t look. You won’t like it.”

Slim rolled his eyes, but turned away. Conar still felt weird, even though the only eyes on him were the dull, uninterested ones of the Meep. He let the goggles slide off his tentacles, landing on the floor with a clatter, though he was quick to snatch them before anyone else got to them.

“You can look now,” he said, cupping his hands over his eyes.

“Shaddup! I think someone’s comin’!”

Indeed, they could hear the Mudokons pant and gasp for air as they approached yet another crate, and all the contents shook and struggled to keep balance as they began to move.

Conar even forgot to cover his eyes up as he rushed to grab his things before they came into view of anyone looking in, or worse, got eaten by Meep. There was little light, but it was enough for Slim to confirm that yes, Sligs just have small, beady eyes, and nothing as horrific as they always suggested.

“Man, this thing’s heavy,” one of the Mudokons griped. “You sure this one’s just Meep?”

Conar was quick to lean back against the corner, re-cupping his eyes and holding his possessions tightly. Slim scurried to the other corner, watching their window as best he could.

He could see a yellow eye peering in, scanning over at the dopey Meep. He instinctively shrank back, hoping against hope that neither of them would be seen. His eyes widened as he saw a couple from the flock hop towards Conar. If the Scrub’s gaze followed them, the jig was up.

He only realized how tense he was when a bleat made him flinch. But who could blame him? He could have doomed himself and the only halfway decent Slig over some mold hallucination.

“The hell are you doing?” another Mudokon hissed. “You want us to get smacked around?”

“Shaddap and load the meat onto the train already!” the supervisor chimed in. “I’ll be glad to pack you with them!”

“Y-yessir!”

The two stowaways finally breathed again as they felt their crate lift, the mechanical whirrs and hisses of the claw easily covering up Conar’s groaning and Slim’s nervous laughter.

Conar was quick to slap his old visor on. It wasn’t as state-of-the-art, but they had a record of those stolen goggles. With any luck, they wouldn’t be looking for a helmet that was outdated minutes after its release.

As the familiar red flooded his vision, his gaze turned to his bag, and the Meep curiously looking at some Moolah that spilled out. It licked its lips, and Conar sprang into action.

“Be damned if some flea-bitten mutton eats my cash—Oof!”

He and several other passengers fell over, the drop onto the train car floor being jarring to all. Fortunately, this meant his Moolah wasn’t munched. Unfortunately, several bills, ammunition, foodstuffs, and the other pair of goggles scattered all over the crate.

“Don’t you dare!” Conar shouted, on his feet in an instant. He shoved some Meep aside, ignoring their bleats of protest as he scooped up as many of his things as possible. He didn’t have to worry about anything getting eaten, thankfully, since the Meep were more concerned with huddling in one corner from the sounds of crates crashing down everywhere around them. There was still much to load.

Slim would have been helping out, truly, but the smell was getting to him. The Meep musk was bad, but the real problem was the amount of pesticide that carelessly doused their wool. He sure hoped the mutton was cleaned before it was packaged, though something in him doubted it, given how Slog chow was. As it was, the one open window in this crate wasn’t helping the odor any, especially as he could see the fumes seeping in. As such, he sat and tried to enjoy the Slig scrambling to pick things up like he would have to do back home.

Conar hardly noticed any of this. All he was focused on was getting everything together, and it was going well. Thankfully, he only seemed to lose a couple of pre-processed foods to the Meep, along with about half their wrappers. If all else failed, he could maybe make some lamb chops himself if they needed food.

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself,” he muttered, shaking his head at Slim.

All that Mudokon was doing was sitting there and covering his mouth. He even pulled away when Conar approached, like he was trying to escape him. He couldn’t figure out why; Conar didn’t engage in excessive beatings like the others or anything. It couldn’t have been the smell; sure, it stank a little, but were Mudokons really so affected by that kind of thing?

The two of them felt their crate shake a couple of times, as more boxes were being carelessly dropped into the car. It was keeping the Meep too startled to even chew on the threadbare straw on the floor, and Conar had to sit rather than bother to keep his balance.

“Well, this seems to be working out okay,” Slim managed, slowly adjusting to the smell.

“Yeah,” Conar nodded. “Gotta hand it to ya, your weird mold trip got us a ride.”

They sat there in silence, listening to several animals protest as more were loaded on.

“Shoulda brought a radio or somethin’,” Conar finally said, after about five minutes. “I know a TV woulda been out of the question, but… something.”

“Hmm?” Slim looked up from tracing the grooves in the wood. “Yeah, I guess that would’ve been okay, but we could’ve gotten caught if you had one blaring, y’know?”

“I mean, I guess, but this quiet sucks! I’m usually watchin’ Name That Trauma or something by now! Maybe listening to something by Marley Mince, I dunno! Just not a zoo of RuptureFarms rejects!”

Slim stared at him for a moment, then shook his head.

“Man, you Sligs got TVs and music when work was done?”

Conar suddenly remembered the room in that dingy motel he found Slim in. Dirt floors, darkened rooms that were more like closets, and tons of graffiti.

“Er…”

“Why’re you going on a quest to rob Zeb, anyway? Sounds like you had it pretty good.”

Slim was casual about it, but Conar was getting an awkward feeling that he thought was beaten out of him when he was young. It was un-Slig-like, but he didn’t feel like he could laugh at Slim’s situation. Sure, Conar had it bad, but so did these Mudokons, really. He just hadn’t really thought about it until now.

And his memories of that game show were a lot less funny now that he was hanging out with Mudokons more. And some of the songs on the radio… and his former supervisor job…

“I mean,” Slim continued, breaking the silence, “I guess I can’t complain. Whatever your plan is, it let me out of my job too. So, uh, thanks.”

Conar grunted.

“And hey,” Slim added, grinning, “I’m glad I’ll stick it to Zeb, too!”

“Heh, yeah, that’ll be somethin’.”

A loud whistle blared, interrupting their conversation. It was joined by a chorus of bleats, howls, and roars, and the two of them covered their ears for a moment. Thankfully, it was over soon, and they could feel the train start to move.

Conar stood up and walked back to the window, looking out. He wasn’t expecting much, and, well, the view delivered. He scanned over the crates, looking for the Slogs, but he couldn’t see much past else other than several bird cages, with a caged Scrab snapping in vain at them.

He wondered why he was feeling less amused and more sympathetic to the scene.

It seemed particularly interested in one with a couple of Ratz at the top of its cage, though they seemed less concerned about the Scrab than they really should have been, their glowing green eyes focused on Conar.

“What’re you looking at?”

He heard Slim hum inquisitively, and realized he was talking to a rat like it could understand him. It was one thing to talk to a Slog, but talking to some pest? What was he doing?

He did his best to avoid eye contact with Slim as he sat back down. Looking into the vacant eyes of the Meep wasn’t much better, though, so he turned to his bag to see if he could get a smoke. With all the action he was seeing, a worrying amount of… ash?...leaves?…preservatives?...

Whatever Vykkers rolled into that paper, a lot of it had spilled out, and there were several unfurled papers. To Conar’s horror, he could only see two, maybe three cigarettes that were at least partially intact. He just had to hope to Odd he could make these last. As such, he picked the half-torn one and started to feel around for that lighter he found in that junkyard. It was a nice one, if all scratched up, with a decal displaying the Slig Barracks logo. It brought back wonderful memories.

Click.

It even still had fuel in it; Conar had to wonder just how much better the newer lighter the original owner got. He salivated thinking of it, and the smoother taste of smoke that guy was probably getting.

He was distracted from his decadent fantasy as Slim extinguished the flame.

“The hell are you doing?!” he demanded. “I need this!”

“You tryin’ to cause a fire? There’s so much here that can burn!”

“C’mon, I haven’t had a Lungbuster all day!” Conar protested, flicking the lighter back on after a few tries. “I promise I’ll be careful or whatever.”

“At least lean outside while using that crap,” Slim said, stepping back again. “Maybe the fumes’ll bother someone else for once.”

Conar rolled his eyes, leaning out to watch the Scrab as he lit up once more. The taste of pollution went down as smoothly as any snack, and the smell of the smoke billowing from his mouth was a welcome relief from all the animal smells around him. His nerves calmed just a little, and he was better able to think of what their next move could be.

Sure, they could ride all the way to FeeCo in this pen, but what would they do after that? If they stayed, they’d get caught for sure, but where could they even go to evade that? They had no idea what or who was in the other cars, and there’d be no way to escape view from anyone else…

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud ringing from above, followed by a violent torrent of water. Animals screeched all around, and he could hear the Meep behind him panicking. Some huddled around himself, and if Slim’s protests were anything to go by, he was getting mixed in the herd too.

“Dammit, put that thing out before anyone comes in!”

“Alright, alright!”

He put out the cigarette on the outer wall of the box before flicking it away, trying to aim towards the Rat that was still staring at him. While he missed, the Rat still hopped away, going towards a large screen.

It was labeled “Estimated Product Lost”, and showed a greenish-yellow screen with the words “Still Rare” on it, with a cartoon thumbs-up next to it. As the smoke started to fizzle out, the monitor changed to a deeper green, with the words “Fresh and Ready” replacing the previous ones. A picture of a happy(?) Scrab hopping into an oversized meat cleaver complemented the display.

Conar hummed to himself, seeing the door next to it. There was, as he might have expected, no handle on the inside, but there was a large window where another guard Slig still had his back turned to them. Honestly, Conar couldn’t blame him; if this was anything like the Slog Hut, there were all kinds of false alarms that went away in seconds. Still, part of him was appalled; there was a known terrorist who took out the head honcho and this guy was just slacking off.

Well, not that he could complain about that. After all, if someone did come in, he and Slim would have to stay in the Meep crate for Odd only knew how long.

“Hey, looks like the coast’s clear. You wanna see if we can find a good spot, or do you wanna sit around in Meep crap for the rest of the trip?”

Slim shot up quicker than a Sloggie on steroids at the notion, shoving members of a confused flock aside to reach the wall with Conar.

“Open that lid, willya?” he grunted, hoisting Conar up. “I’ll chuck you over!”

“Don’t just grab me like that,” Conar grumbled, shoving the lid just enough for it to slide off. He didn’t have time to grumble for much longer, though, as he was tossed over, landing with a heavy thud!

He groaned, grateful for his pseudo-helmet as he climbed to his feet again. He stepped back a little, looking up just in time to see that Scrab trying to snap at him instead of the birds.

“Hey, uh, get my stuff out, will ya?” he called back. “Or just my gun, that’d be good, too.”

“Yeah,” Slim grunted, clambering over the wall. “Got as much as I could.”

Conar’s things fell to the floor with a loud clatter, someplace to his left. He flinched, and from the stomps and snarls, the Scrab was taking this as some kind of challenge. He scrambled to get his bag, hoping to get his gun.

Clang!

He looked up from the bag to see the animal had tipped its oversized birdcage over, and was thrashing in the narrow thing, trying in vain to either pick itself back up or snap at something. It caused one of the bird’s cages to wobble, leading to a whole lot of squawking.

“Shit!” Conar hissed, looking over at the door.

The guard stirred, turning to the side. A red lens glared right at a frozen Conar for an eternity, the two visors locked in an extended gaze. After no movement for several moments, Conar risked a step forward. No response.

“Sleeping on the job,” he concluded. “Prolly thick doors, too.”

He could hear Slim allowing himself to breathe behind him. Conar himself gave a short laugh at this.

“Y-yeah, but we still got that, er, Scrab to worry about, right?”

As if on cue, the Scrab pushed against the floor, cage scraping closer as Slim jumped back to avoid its new biting range.

“Don’t think he’s gonna do much,” Conar shrugged, watching the animal pathetically flop and snarl. “Now hurry up, let’s get outta view!”

Finding a squawk-filled crate to hide behind was thankfully not hard. There were plenty of those to go around, and the thick wooden walls were better cover from whatever claws or teeth would mince them. On one side, there were crates of Fleeches and Riot Slugs. On the other, boxes full of Fuzzle cages and Meetles, almost obscured the Paramite cages on the other side, and the mewls of the Fuzzles did little to hide the hissing and squealing of the hand-faced monsters.

“Any relation?” Slim asked with a wry smile.

“Shaddup,” Conar chuckled.

He punched Slim in the arm, and to his surprise, it wasn’t even enough to bruise him. Damn, something about this whole thing was making him soft.

It still had an effect on Slim, though. He immediately started to duck, hands halfway up to his head, before he realized what he was doing. He shot back upright, groaning at his conditioned response.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he finally said, after a long, awkward moment. “Old habit, I guess.”

“…Forget about it,” Conar replied.

He was glad for the visor he had on; Slim wouldn’t know he wasn’t making eye contact.

“Anyway,” Slim perked up, “Maybe we could look for Chairman now?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

They still crept carefully as they checked the labels and listened for barks, not only due to the risk of some kind of patrol or security, but also because there were many cages with creatures eyeing them. They didn’t know if it was wariness or hunger, but it wasn’t worth the gamble.

After a few minutes, they heard the smoke alarm go off again, and cold, acrid water started raining on them. They retreated under a carelessly stacked box and looked up at the sprinklers, trying to ignore the ramblings of Chippunks above them.

“A fire?” Conar asked. “What could’ve—”

“No, no,” Slim mused, looking at the straw-covered floor, the wooden crates, and noting the smells not from the water. “With all this around, it woulda spread, right?”

“You’re right,” Conar nodded, readying his gun. “We ain’t alone.”

#oddworld conar's ambition #draft 1 #Oddworld #fic #oddworld conars ambition full chapter #Chapter 9

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neon-mind-palace · 2 years

Text

Crustwork Employment Report, lute 2070, quinary 3, Quadrant 1

[OUTBOUND COMMUNIQUE]

Crust[Q1 south/Station Power] >>>>> Mantle[Q1/Defense Headquarters]

[COMMUNIQUE INITIATED]

...Yup. Q1 here.

Hey chief, just checkin’ in.

Yeah? How ya been, Randall, still got that ache in your back?

Nah, I got that tuned up at the cydoc just down the lane. Turns out it was a loose wire poking outta the new disc I got installed.

I told ya, bud, you shoulda gone with the Nagitama, that’s top-notch hardware right there.

Yeah, and sell my arm and leg to get it? All I needed is a spinal segment, chief.

Hey, you’re payin’ for the upkeep, pal. Anyways, whatcha got for me this time?

Nothin’ much, chief. Power supply remains nominal, no changes there. Power output readings have been pretty consistent for the past few lutes. Also, we patched up those faulty spots in the infrastructure under the gravity engine too, so lemme know if you got any more and I’ll sic some repairmen on ‘em.

Sure enough. We’re gettin’ some complaints about some flickering appliances down here in the Mantle. Had some of the noderunner boys look into it, seems like the malfunctions’re pretty close together so it might be a problem on your end. The boys put together a diagnostic report on the glitchin’ infrastructure, but it’ll probably make more sense to you than it does to my eyes, so I’ll wire it to you after the call.

No problem, we’ll look into it.

How’re the shanties holdin’ up? Everything still goin’ smoothly? I don’t wanna have to sent any more bounty hunters up there…

Uh, that’s alright, chief, no need for that. Things are all good, the People’re keepin’ nice to each other, all my shantymen workers are checkin’ in on time, business is flowing down in the bazaar, no unusual activity on the nodeway on our end… No word from any of the other wardens, either. Yessir, everything checks out, heheh.

Alright. Keep that line straight, Randy. Anything else you got for me?

Just a couple obits, two workers who kicked it. But they were old timers anyway, it was about time I got some younger muscle to pick up their share of the work.

The two croakers, they from the Mantle?

Nah, they were shantymen. Got a couple more young ones to replace ‘em, too. Hooked ‘em up with some employment ID codes and put ‘em to work, that alright?

Yeah, that’s for the best, I ain’t got no more Mantle workers for ya anyhow.

That’s it on my end, then, chief.

Alrighty, pal, hear from ya next time.

Crust[Q1 south/Station Power] --X-- Mantle[Q1/Defense Headquarters]

[COMMUNIQUE DISENGAGED]

#Courte Nebulae #Crust #Mantle #Courte's Defense

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vargaslovinghours · 3 years

Photo

So full of contradictions

#💟#Doodles #Art #Edgar #Scriabin #Blood #Ladyverse #Hey another random assortment nice #It's almost like letting myself draw Vargas stuff in my main notebooks means I draw more Vargas stuff #There's only one more page to test so hm-m #Anyhow - goin' down the line #Scriabin saying ''Gosh'' is very close in line with Edgar saying ''Dang'' to me it's very funny lol #A frustrated Edgar to practice angry creases on the nose - you can probably just barely see them but that's what I wanted to practice #Might need a few more goes but I'm pretty happy with how he turned out overall #Fully marshmallow'd doodles because yay ♥#I was watching a scary video so I made some comfort doodles and then more comfort doodles! Cuddles are very good #I will stop making cutes never #I really should do that line gap to imply a kiss more often it's very cute and simple #And then straight to blood and crying :D Also yay #I was originally just going to draw him bleeding but then his face turned out like that and I was like ''Might as well''#Don't cry into your open scars that hurts #And finishing off with some Ladyverse Edgar Violation-style #I guess it'd actually be Convalescence since she's got the eye patch but the butterfly #Yet another reason to reread Violation - think about Ladyverse for a few days haha

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tulsa-trash · 3 years

Text

Girly

Request: Would it be possible for you to do a request where the reader is the Curtis brothers sister (between Sodapop and Ponyboy) and she is not feminine at all (she wears trousers, converse and jean jackets) and one day the gang sees her dressed up all girly.

WARNING(S): N/A

You looked at your reflection in the mirror for the millionth time, sighing as you smoothed out your new, light yellow skirt. Your mouth formed into a thin line as you eyed the white blouse that clung to your chest.

Your best friend had set you up on a date with a boy you barely even knew. When you reluctantly agreed she dragged you to a fancy boutique on the south side of town and bought you an entire outfit. Sure she meant well, and you appreciated it, but you couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable.

Never in your life have you thought you would be caught dead in a skirt and blouse. You never really liked girly or skimpy clothes, but she had insisted you wear something feminine for once.

You were nervous about the date, but petrified of how your brothers would react. You neglected to tell them about the date, knowing they would freak out and most likely ruin it for you. But you knew when you walked out of your room all hell was going to break loose when they see you in a skirt.

As you slipped some socks onto your feat you scoffed as your gaze landed on the new saddle shoes your friend had bought you.

“No thanks.” You mumbled under your breath.

You walked past your brand new shoes and smiled at your beat up converse that laid strewn out on the side of your bed. You slipped them on and tied them tightly, feeling content as they perfectly molded to your feet.

You sat on your bed for a moment, glancing at your alarm clock. He was supposed to be there in ten minutes to pick you up. You decided that it was now or never, you got up and walked towards your door. With a deep breath, you closed your eyes and silently prayed to yourself before exiting your room.

You swung the door open and put on the most normal face you could muster. With your head held high you confidently strolled down the hallway and towards all of the rowdy boys that occupied the living room.

Ponyboy was reading a book on the couch with Two-Bit sat beside him sipping on a beer and watching TV. Steve and Soda were wrestling on the floor, your big brother was winning only for a moment before Steve flipped him over and held him in a head lock.

“Hey, guys.” You said, casually leaning against the wall.

“He–” Ponyboy stopped once his gaze landed on you.

His eyes widened as he scanned your wardrobe, raising his eyebrows.

“Um… What– er… What are ya wearin’?” He asked skeptically.

Once those words left his mouth it seems as though the other boys in the room actually took notice of your presence. Two-Bit began to choke on his alcoholic beverage like a maniac. Soda stood laying on the floor dumbfounded while Steve was on top of him, looking at you with his jaw dropped.

You rolled your eyes at their reactions, looking down and playing with the hem of your skirt.

“I know I look lousy… Ya don’t have to rub it in.” You grumbled.

Your head snapped up when Two-Bit began to wolf whistle at you. A deep blush painted your cheeks as Steve began to join in while your two brothers looked at them in disgust.

“Howdy! Get you kid!” Two-Bit exclaimed as he examined you. “Don’t you look pretty!”

You smiled at the ground, “Awe, shucks–”

“Golly! I don’t think I ever seen you all dressed up before, you look awful nice!” Steve said.

“Erm… yeah. Why are ya dressed up anyhow?” Soda asked as he pushed Steve off of him.

“Gee, Soda. Thanks.” You said sarcastically.

“Don’t get me wrong, kiddo. Ya look gorgeous! I’m just confused… What’d you get all dolled up for?”

“I got a date…” You stated.

“A DATE!?” Both Soda and Pony shrieked.

“Why don’t ya tell the whole neighborhood while you’re at it.” You hissed.

“Hey! Why all the hollerin’? What’s goin’ on?” Darry entered the living room from the kitchen.

“Nothing.” You said quickly.

“Y/N got a date.” Soda ratted you out.

You glared at your older brother before giving the eldest Curtis a sweet smile.

“A date?” Darry asked skeptically. “Were you plannin’ on tellin’ us any time soon? What makes you think you can go on a date?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “I can date whoever I want, Darry. I’m sixteen for cryin’ out loud I can handle one date!”

Darry sighed deeply as he stared down at you, he was absolutely horrified seeing you all grown up and looking girly as ever. The last thing he wanted to do was to get into another argument with one of his siblings. He had been fighting with Pony constantly and snapping at Soda, he didn’t want to bicker with you too.

You were caught off guard when he bent down and wrapped you in his arms, giving you a big hug. Shaking off the shock you hugged him back, squeezing his broad shoulders.

“You look beautiful, buddy.” He told you.

“Thank you, Dare-Bear.”

He snickered, you had given him that nick name when you were little; and you knew that he would crumble and get all soft from your words.

“Look, I don’t feel like fighting with ya…” He pulled away from the hug to look you in the eyes. “But please, stay safe. If that kid tries anythin’ you best know all of us are gonna head for the cooler.”

Everyone agreed as he said this, you just laughed and gave your brother a kiss on the cheek before heading towards the door.

“Wait you’re actually lettin’ her go?”

“He best keep his hands to himself!”

“Bring a sweater.”

“Use protection!”

“SHUT UP, TWO!”

“I’ll be fine!” You reassured.

“Curfew is eight o’ clock.” Darry said.

“Nine.” You argued.

“Eight thirty, take it or you ain’t goin’ missy.”

“Fine. Love you!”

With that you were out the door, your date wasn’t there yet so you took a seat on the front steps.

“What are you doin’?”

You jumped in surprise as your head whirled around to face the voice. It was Dally accompanied by Johnny, they were leaning against the house whilst sharing a cigarette.

“Hello to you too, Dal.” You said with sass laced in your tone.

He chuckled dryly, trailing off as he eyed you. You shifted uncomfortably and turned away from him.

“You look nice, Y/N.” Johnny said quietly.

You turned and sent him a warm smile, “Thanks, Johnny.”

“Where you goin’ off to dressed like that?” Dally asked.

You raised an eyebrow at him, “Why the sudden curiosity?”

He simply shrugged, “Figured you’d be doin’ somethin’ special… you never dress like… that.”

“D-Do you think it looks bad?” You didn’t mean to stutter, but you couldn’t help it.

He smirked, looking you up and down once more. Silence fell between the three of you for a while.

“Take that as a yes.” You scoffed.

“Nah…” Dally said. “You look smokin’.”

“Really?” You asked. Not once has Dallas Winston ever complimented you, and to be honest you wanted to make sure you heard him right.

“I don’t like repeatin’ myself, doll.” He replied smoothly.

You smirked and averted your gaze from him to the road, a light blush tinted your cheeks. Soon enough, a beat up car came to a stop in front of the house. Your date got out and gestured for you to get in, holding the door for you.

“Looks like that’s him…” You breathed out as you got up.

“He better not try anythin’.” Dallas said lowly.

“Awe, Dal. Didn’t know you cared about me that much.” You teased as you walked down your front steps.

“Shush up, kid.”

His eyes raked your body as he watched you walk away, getting into the guys car. He smirked at you when you shot him one last playful glance before your date drove off.

“I didn’t know the Curtis gal was hot.” Dallas said.

“Best not let her brothers hear you sayin’ stuff like that about her.” Johnny silently warned.

Dallas scoffed, flicking his finished cigarette into the dirt before heading back inside. Johnny followed close behind him.

#the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders imagine #the outsiders fanfiction #the outsiders fic #the outsiders fandom #curtis!sister #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #darry curtis #dallas winston #johnny cade #steve randle #two bit mathews

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fic-request-blog · 3 years

Text

Five Times Hanzo's Dragons Protect McCree and One Time They Didn’t Have To

This is a request by an anon here on Tumblr for a “Five Times Hanzo's Dragons Protect McCree and One Time They Didn’t Have To.” It really is what’s on the lid. Oh, and they fall in love while we’re at it.

Fluff, angst, humor, rated T for non-explicit violence and mentions of sexual content, ~3K.

Read it here on AO3 instead.

Five Times Hanzo's Dragons Protect McCree and One Time They Didn’t Have To

Chapter 1

Jesse places his hand on the payload, sighing in relief, “Alright folks, we’re at the-“

Something clicks on the payload, a trigger slipping into place as Jesse checks inside. It’s empty except for a small bundle in the center. A tiny, almost translucent wire settles against the inner side of the payload and Jesse closes his eyes. Maybe he can save them from some damage on the off chance he survives this.

He knows what comes next, of course. The whole mission had been suspiciously easy. He shoulda figured.

The blast is strong enough that he’s blown clear over the wall behind him and dropped thirty some feet into the roiling sea below. From there, Jesse loses track of what’s happening. It’s a damn shame his boots and gear are so heavy, he muses, or he’d maybe be able to float up, or even swim up.

But his head is fuzzy, his ears are ringing, and it’s not like he coulda figured out which way was up anyhow. The world turns to blue around him, deep and quiet. His mind swirls around in his head as much as the water around him.

Peaceful. The blue around him is nice, and he doesn’t feel cold or any of the pain that he’s sure he should. He’d always thought he’d go down fightin’ it to the end, but this…this ain’t a bad way to go.

The blue gets brighter and brighter as he continues to slide through the water, which don’t make much sense, but he ain’t really thinking well anyhow, so maybe that’s just how death works. He watches pretty, sparkling circles drift away in the light and finally closes his eyes.

Something wraps around him, warm and comfortable, and Jesse thinks death really ain’t as bad as people make it out to be. Feels a lot like flying.

Chapter 2

There’s another roar of laughter from the bar and Hanzo rolls his eyes, safe in the darkness of his corner booth. The cowboy has certainly recovered well, as is evident by the amount of whiskey he has managed to drink this evening. There was…uncertainty for a short time. The near drowning had been a non-issue, but the burns and injuries to his face, torso, and arms had been far more critical, though Baptiste assured them all he would make a full recovery. Being blown over the wall and into the water had apparently been a far better outcome than being blown into the wall.

Frowning, Hanzo drops his gaze to the sake in his cup. He is perturbed by his own strong reaction to witnessing McCree in peril. They have only been on perhaps four missions together; they have not known one another for long. As another boisterous laugh erupts from the bar, he cannot resist watching McCree again. He is honest enough with himself to admit that the cowboy’s easy and honest personality appeals to him, and the man’s appearance, though crude, is…well-built. Hanzo knows what he likes, and McCree would be, as the American says, a cool drink of water. It does not hurt either that McCree seems to enjoy complementing Hanzo, especially regarding Hanzo’s skill with a bow. It takes more honesty with himself than he has while sober to admit that McCree is partially getting to him through his ego, but with a bottle of sake to nurse, Hanzo can swallow that truth this evening. There are few things he likes more than someone appreciating his skills.

Yet, it is rare for him to become so instantly attached, especially at work. He is usually firm about separating his professional and private lives. It seems McCree has wormed his way into Hanzo’s good graces.

Flexing his fingers, Hanzo sighs. It is not only Hanzo who is intrigued either; the dragons had reacted both swiftly and violently at the danger to the cowboy. If they intend to react like that again, Hanzo may need to be more careful in the future.

By the time the other Overwatch agents begin to trickle out of the bar, it is late, and Hanzo decides he too should find rest. That he leaves shortly after McCree is but a coincidence, he is sure.

There is a pleasant buzz under his skin and the night air is cool as he walks back to the compound. He does not rush, but it takes only a minute or so to catch sight of a familiar hat bobbing through the streets. McCree has one arm across Baptiste’s shoulders, but the other man must be drunk as well because they both weave haphazardly through the streets.

Smile quirking at his lips, Hanzo slows to maintain distance between them. While he did not mind McCree paying for his drinks this evening in thanks for saving his life, nor any of the other words of praise McCree lavished upon him, he does not intend to deal to with two drunks. He will simply follow to make sure they reach the compound.

Later, Hanzo will blame the noise McCree and Baptiste are making for his lapse of concentration, though the sake likely did not help either. He certainly will not admit to watching McCree too closely, the way his hips sway pleasingly as he tries to walk upright down the street.

The first bullet catches McCree in the shoulder, only missing the back of his head because Baptiste had stumbled, dragging the cowboy to the left at just the right moment. Even drunk, though, the two can react swiftly, and the second bullet finds only cobblestones.

Hanzo does not know if the shooter is aware of his position nor does he wait long enough to see if McCree or Baptiste are hit by the third shot. He simply pivots, leaping against the wall to his right and ricochets off to the left, onto the roof the shooter is likely using. Tracing the trajectory of the shots is child’s play.

He has no bow, no weapon at all in fact, but that will make little difference. The silence of the night is interrupted only by a fourth shot. Hanzo’s quiet footfalls as he flits across the roof and his tattoos flaring to life make no noise at all.

He cannot see precisely where the shooter is, but the dragons can taste the gunpowder on the air. They arc across the roof, blue light blinding in the still of the night.

There is not a fifth shot.

Chapter 3

“Thanks Angel,” Jesse smiles as he dodges into an alcove, reloading, “glad ta have your eyes on me!”

Hanzo makes an affirmative noise over the comms and falls silent. Jesse’s not sure if the man minds him callin’ him angel. Hanzo’s hard to read. He’s more stoic than a brick wall. But the guy has saved Jesse’s life twice already, so he can’t hate Jesse too much. If Jesse thinks of Hanzo as his own personal guardian angel, well, Hanzo hasn’t stopped him callin’ him that yet. An’ Hanzo’s not exactly a shy guy. Jessie is sure he woulda spoken up if it bothered him.

So, the real question is, does Hanzo like him callin’ him angel? Because if he does… Jesse certainly would like to know about that.

It takes some focus to shift his attention from thinking about Hanzo’s form when the man is pulling back that bow of his to the battle at hand. The way those tattoos wrap around Hanzo’s biceps as he knocks an arrow, almost like they’re alive, is real…distracting.

The man’s prettier than just about anyone Jesse has ever seen.

Something explodes behind their position and Hanzo’s voice crackles over the line, even more terse than usual.

“Move! All of you!”

Jesse jumps from their position, breaking cover with the rest of the team as the building behind them rumbles ominously.

“They’ve destroyed the building’s supports!”

Cursing, Jesse breaks into a full sprint, watching as the building’s shadow continues to lengthen in front of the team, the ground shuddering beneath them. Things have gone from not great to shit real fast and Jesse’s not sure which direction will stop them all from getting squashed like bugs. There’s a lot of buildings all around them and the one they’d been sheltering behind was tall.

Probably no direction except up is safe.

And then there’s a bright blue light behind them, throwing the shadow of the building back, and Jesse is picked right up off the ground, something big rushing above him.

Gasping, Jesse wriggles, arms pinned to his sides, “What-!”

Similar noises of surprise over the comms from the rest of the team are drowned out as the building crashes into the ground, dust and the accompanying shockwave deafening and blinding Jesse to the ensuing chaos. Air continues to rush past him. He coughs but can’t hear it, can only feel the rattle of his lungs as he tries to clear the dust.

Jesse’s not sure how long they’re in the air. It coulda been seconds or minutes, he wasn’t keeping track. At some point, whatever’s got ahold of him slows down. He cracks an eye open, squinting in the sun as he continues to hack up a lung.

He’s dropped gently onto a roof, and there is, and Jesse ain’t a liar, two dragons dropping the rest of the team onto the roof as well. They are long and blue.

Jesse is freaking out a bit, trying to get a better look from where he lays on his stomach, but the coughing isn’t helping. With wide eyes, he watches Hanzo hop off the back of one of them, graceful as ever. The dragons begin to shrink, smaller and smaller, until they wrap around Hanzo’s arm, stilling as they bleed into his skin.

There ain’t a speck of dust on Hanzo as he turns towards Jesse and, as he walks over, Jesse’s not sure if it’s the dust’s fault that he can’t breathe right. The man is a sight to behold.

Lips quirking in amusement, Hanzo raises a brow, “you dropped this, cowboy,” he says, Jesse’s hat gripped lightly in in his hand.

If Jesse weren’t still winded and coughing, he’d swoon.

Chapter 4

Whatever Hanzo and he have between them is new but so sweet and it feels like it could be goin’ somewhere real good. His thoughts are a little muddy though, swinging from their current predicament to maudlin anger. Life ain’t fair, Jesse knows that. He’s lived a life most people would consider pretty shit, but he’s never begged like this.

“Dunno what I gotta say,” he rasps, arms tightening around Hanzo’s limp form draped across his chest and down his legs, “but please, ‘m beggin ya ta get him outta here.”

It’s only been a month since they started taking dinner together, sitting in quiet spots around base and drinking long into the night. Jesse’s never considered himself a gifted conversationalist, but with Hanzo, words just come easier.

The wall behind him is cold and the alcove he’s dragged them both into is barely big enough to cover them, but with a bust leg and Hanzo’s dead weight, he isn’t going to get anywhere else. Still, the tattoos on Hanzo’s arm remain just that, tattoos.

“Please, please, I know you’re in there, please.”

With one hand, he presses against the sticky mess of Hanzo’s temple, using his chest as a better headrest than the wall, while the other hand shakily holds his poncho to the wound seeping at Hanzo’s side. This thing they’ve got going between them is still so new and the bitter reality that he’s probably not going to see where it goes is pulling pleas from his lips better than any torture he’s faced.

“Please,” he whispers, breath puffing across the crown of Hanzo’s head, disturbing the hairs escaped from the man’s usually perfect bun, “please.”

Hell, they’ve only kissed a couple times. The first had been messy with nerves and drink, but the second. Oh, the second had been slow as molasses and curled his toes right in his boots. Hanzo had backed him up against a door with a hand gripping possessively along his jaw. Just the smolder Hanzo left him with as the man sauntered away, bidding him goodnight, had made Jesse so hot under the collar a cold shower hadn’t done much.

There’s no glow from Hanzo’ arm still, no shiver of electricity in the air, and Jesse starts to lose the little bit of hope still scrabbling at the back of his mind.

“C’mon, you can’t leave him to die like this, please,” his voice just loud enough to hear over the pounding of blood in his ears as the stomp of boots echo off the walls not too far down the corridor, “please, ‘m beggin’ ya, please.”

Tears well hot and heavy at the corner of his eyes as his pleas continue, quieter and quieter as whoever is drawing near gets closer and closer. Damn it all, he’d only gotten the balls to ask Hanzo out on a real date days ago. They’re not going to get a chance to see where this will go, and he’s never hated this shit hand in life more.

A gun cocks at the entrance to their little alcove. Jesse doesn’t look up. Not because he’s too chicken shit to stare down a barrel, god knows he’s done that enough in his life, but because there’s a familiar blue glow spilling from Hanzo’s arm and he can’t look away. Relief steals the very breath from his lungs.

Well, maybe that’s partly the rib giving him a nasty poke to the lung too.

Chapter 5

Someone makes a sound somewhere to his left, a whimper, and Hanzo struggles towards consciousness. His mind swirls. Time seems to waver. Eventually, or perhaps mere moments later, he cracks his eyes open. For long seconds, he is unable to place where he is, but slowly the shadows skulking about form into the familiar interior of the infirmary. He relaxes slightly. At least it is unlikely he is in danger here.

Again, a soft whimper draws his attention to the left. It takes far more energy to turn his head than Hanzo thinks it should, but he manages to nonetheless.

Tucked into the bed beside his own is McCree, fast asleep. The cowboy’s face is tight with pain, though perhaps in his dreams it is worry or fear. Hanzo breathes deep. It is good to see that McCree has survived, a miracle that they have both survived through their last mission. From what he can remember, it had not gone well.

McCree makes another pained sound and there is a tug, a pull from the dragons, against the skin of his arm.

This again. Tiredly, he tries to calm them, “He is not in danger, hush.”

They pull anyways, worried. It takes more energy to keep them there against his skin than to allow their thrashing, and Hanzo has precious little energy to spare.

“Fine,” he releases them, “but do not wake him. He must sleep.”

In the gloom, Hanzo watches them curl tentatively into the nooks of McCree’s body, nuzzling anywhere their little snouts can reach. As one of them snuggles into the rough bristles of McCree’s beard, the pinched expression on his face begins to smooth out.

With a deep warmth spreading through his chest, Hanzo lets sleep take him.

Chapter 6

Hanzo dispatches two more of the talon mercenaries in quick succession, using his momentum to vault to the top of the building. While there are far more talon members than their intel had suggested, the mission so far is going smoothly. Jesse, and now Hanzo, have already reached the objective with little trouble. The rest of their team is not far behind.

Cresting the final set of stairs brings Hanzo in line of sight with Jesse, and time seems to slow around him, his senses sharpening. He breathes in. The scent of smoke sits acrid on his tongue. The sunlight is harsh in his eyes.

Too close. The cowboy is too close to the edge of the building. He watches as though in slow motion, watches as Jesse struggles with a talon agent against the lip of the roof, watches as the ridge they fight against begins to give way, watches as they start to fall.

“Jesse!”

His heart stops within his chest, throat closing around the word.

He breaks into a sprint, calling out to the dragons, their anger singing in tune with his own. There is still a chance he may yet catch Jesse.

But as he reaches the edge, all but prepared to leap, he spots Jesse. The man is not freefalling, but instead has somehow managed to drop into one of the talon helicopters prowling the skies. The helicopter gains height swiftly, pulling up to hover over the roof. Hanzo cannot help the smile tugging at his lips. The talon agents on the roof have yet to realize the danger they are in.

Jesse opens fire, catching the talon agents entirely off guard, clearing the roof in seconds.

The rest of the team arrives as Jesse turns the helicopter, opening fire on the two other talon aircraft still nearby. Hanzo walks back to the stairs as Jesse comes in for a landing. He is…deeply impressed.

Lucio brings the package over, grinning at Jesse in the cockpit.

“Y’all need a ride?” Jesse greets them, the roll of the self-satisfied words around his already-lit cigar sending sparks down Hanzo’s spine. There are far too many of their teammates around them for the embers of arousal to be anything but inappropriate, but Hanzo cannot stop himself from meeting Jesse’s eyes. He knows Jesse can tell where his thoughts have shifted by the stutter in his breath, the clear surprise flitting across his handsome face, and the answering interest darkening his eyes.

If Jesse flies a little fast, Hanzo does not mind. Nor do their teammates question. They have all felt the adrenaline of victory.

If he and Jesse break from their team members at base slightly sooner than etiquette usually requires after such success, none of them question that either.

#mchanzo #hanzo shimada #jesse mccree #Fluff with angst #hurt/comfort #falling in love #the dragons just really like jesse #so does Hanzo lol

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tatsumology · 3 years

Text

1-cm High World

Location: Seisou Hall Courtyard

Mitsuru: Sniff sniff… Just as I thought, the scent of bread is coming from over here!

They gotta be sweet buns~☆ It smells like the ones you can get at the supermarket!

Ah, found it! So it really was here!

But why is it hanging from a tree branch? It kinda looks like a bread-snatching race.[1] Hmm?

Well, anyway. The bread will go bad if it stays here. I should bring this to the dorm supervisor[2] right away! Dash dash, ju~mp!

Uwaah!? I got stuck in a net and now I’m hanging in the air!

So basically, this is a trap someone set up? Maybe it was the mischievous Hinata-chan? Or could this have been one of Shinobu-chan’s ninjutsu tricks?

When I move my body it feels like I'm shaking like a yoyo, it's fun! Bounce Bou~nce♪

Kohaku: ...It actually caught him.

Mitsuru: Ah, Koha-chan. Hello!

Kohaku: Though this isn’t a situation to be greetin’ each other so casually…. Good day.

Ya certainly look like you’re utterly hog-tied. I'll get ya down, so don't move.

Mitsuru: Okay! I'm bad at staying still, but I'll control myself♪

Kohaku: (Even in such a situation he’s not fazed in the slightest... sorta like Madara-han.)

(Although we’re doin’ activities together as Double Face an’ I know about the ”Mikejima” name, I still don’t know Madara-han’s true self real well.)

(Even if it’s just for a short while, I feel mighty anxious bein’ in the care of someone like him.)

(I was tryin’ ta figure out one or two weaknesses o’ his, an’ then I pieced together that I needed ta go to the Track & Field Club.)

(In order to not stir up any unnecessary trouble, I can’t touch Narukami-han, who’s real close ta bon[3]. An’ as fer Otogari-han...I can’t quite grasp his physical strength just yet.)

(Rulin’ those out, I had ta choose Tenma-han.)

(Although ‘t was me who set the trap, I didn’t think he would come. Yer run-of-the-mill folks wouldn’t get caught up in such an obvious trap, right?)

(Just how much does this dude like bread?)

(Well anyhow, it’s all dandy that I’ve been able ta get him while Madara-han ain’t around.)

…. Now yer loose. ‘M sorry that I set out a trap like this, but there’s just somethin’ I hafta ask ya.

Mitsuru: Not at all! It felt like an amusement park ride, so it was fun! I’d welcome a trap like this any time!

Kohaku: I- is that so? Well, nothin’ better than a good mood right? Here, have some bread as an apology.

Mitsuru: Yaay, I scored another piece of bread! Yesyes~!☆

Munch munch…. So, what was it that you wanted to ask me?

Kohaku: Y’see.. Y’know Madara-han? The one from the Mikejima household? I pretty much only know ‘bout how he is as an idol.

Tenma-han is also in the Track & Field Club with him, right? Can’t ya teach me what kind of person he is?

Mitsuru: I got you! Then let’s change into our tracksuits and meet up in 5 minutes!

Kohaku: Thanks a lot, ya really saved me there~

…. Eh, tracksuits?

5 minutes later

Mitsuru: Okay, first of all, let’s have a match! Get ready to dash! ☆

Kohaku: (So basically, we’re gonna run? I haven’t got a clue what this has gotta do with Madara-han, though.)

(In order ta gain his trust, it’s best ta just go along with him.)

Mitsuru: Dash dash~!

Kohaku: Hollup, how far are ya plannin’ on goin’?!

Mitsuru: Thanks to the bread I’ve just eaten, I’m all fired up! It’s just so much fun to run!

It’s the first time that I’m running together with Koha-chan. You’ve gotta show how much you can run!

I’ve become a proper oniichan now that I’m in my second year. I’m not a child that you can just baby all the time!

Kohaku: Haaa… huff..

Mitsuru: Koha-chan, are you okay? Please eat some bread and jazz up!

Kohaku: Are ya serious?! If I were to get anythin’ in my stomach right now, I’d totally throw it all up.

Mitsuru: It’s gonna be fine if it’s bread! I have some …

Huh, I don’t have any bread on me?!

Let’s go to a bakery to get some! So dash dash with all I got~!

….Not with all I’ve got. I should match up to Koha-chan’s pace, then dash dash at half power~☆

Location: Time Street

Mitsuru: Munch munch… Bread is super duper tasty when you eat it after running!

Kohaku: Yer right...it’s tastin’ better than usual ‘cause we just worked up a sweat.

Mitsuru: ....

Kohaku: ? What’s the matter? Yer starin’ like a rock...

Mitsuru: I just always got the idea that you practically don’t have any friends, so I’m happy that we’re hanging out together! Ehehe♪

Kohaku: “Practically don’t have any friends”...you don’t beat around the bush, huh. Compared ta you, I don’t have heaps, but I do have some.

(‘s all well. Although Tenma-han looks like he’s got his head in the clouds all the time, he’s real aware of his surroundings. It’s kinda surprisin’.)

(.... This ain’t the time for admirin’! I totally forgot about my objective.)

(I could keep goin’ along with him, but with bread and dashin’ I won’t make any progress. Let’s cut to the chase now.)

Tenma-han. This is about Madara-han, I don’t really understand what all this runnin’ around has got to do with him. Could ya explain it so that even I can understand?

Mitsuru: Okey-dokey! Up you go~☆

Kohaku: Waah?! What are ya doin’! Don’t carry me on yer shoulders! Egh, I can’t get down if ya grab me so tightly!

Mitsuru: Mike-chan-senpai loves festivals! He carries me like a mikoshi[4]— gives me a ride on his shoulders and all. He’s a super nice person!

Whenever I’m in a fix, he helps me out. He’s a good guy. But I’ve also become bigger too, I'm already a second year!

I wanna go from being helped to being someone who helps out others!

So if you’re ever troubled about anything, Koha-chan can also come to me for advice!

Kohaku: …. Right. If I’m in a pinch, I’ll count on ya.

(His eyes are sparklin’ when he’s talkin’ ‘bout Madara-han.)

(“A super nice person” huh … So he appears like that to a kid who knows nothin’ of the face beneath the mask.)

(Though I didn’t quite get the information I was hopin’ for, I still spent a meaningful day like this.)

Mitsuru: Sniff sniff … I can smell freshly baked bread!

It’s coming from that bakery! Dash da~sh … ☆

Kohaku: Whaah?! Put me down first~!

Proofreaders

JP: Anonymous

EN: Amagiiz

Translation Notes

A bread-snatching race in Japan is mainly done during school events. Bread is hung on a string, then children need to grab it with their mouths and carry it over a course to the finish line. You can see an example of this in Mitsuru’s bloomed 2015 Sports Festival 4* card ↩︎

The dorm supervisor is Keito. ↩︎

This is how Kohaku refers to Tsukasa. ↩︎

A Mikoshi is a Japanese portable festival shrine that you carry on your shoulders. ↩︎

#trslt #oukawa kohaku #tenma mitsuru #idol story

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prose-for-hire · 3 years

Text

All I want for Christmas is you

[This is a (late) part of my 12 Days of Chirstmas fics]

Pairing: Spike x fem!reader

Request: Hi! A spike request angst for the holiday collection. Where spike and the reader get into a massive fight and he says some really hurtful things. So its really awkward leading into Christmas and the reader considers leaving him. But then spike gives the reader a present on Christmas like a sorry present that changes her mind :)

Requested by: Anon

Warning: Spike and reader fight and say mean things. Swearing. Very light sex references.

A/N: I use the ambiguous phrase ‘jewellery’ rather than explaining what the object is because it’s a reader insert and some people like certain items and some people don’t like any jewellery (blame Buffy and Dawn sorry)

You and Spike loved each other, you knew this. But you and Spike also argued. All the time. You had broken up and got back together more times than you could count. It was a ‘can’t live with him, can’t live without him’ situation. And you were just going in circles.

This particular time, finds you and Spike finishing decorating the crypt. It had been fun, by all accounts. You had even got a tree. He had managed to distract you a lot, making an hour’s task lasting the entire day.

When you were loved up, it was bliss. It was fierce passion. Often languid and sensual. Even giddy and fun at times.

He hugged you from behind, closing his eyes as he inhaled, kissing the back of your head. His hands started to wander from your hips and you closed your eyes in delight. Pressed against him felt so right.

“Did you hear that?” You said, your eyes snapping open. It was bells. Little, twinkling Christmas bells. It was eerie, not cheery. You hadn’t bought any bells.

Spike groaned in frustration and looked around as if you had gone mad. You were always doing this. Driving him wild. Teasing him so.

“What in the buggering hell are you goin’ on about?”

“There’s something…” You said cryptically as you looked around, which irritated him to no end.

“It’s nothing, just- come here”

“Spike! Why don’t you listen to me?” You pouted slightly, hoping it was entice him to take you seriously, check if there was a threat. But it did the opposite.

“Oh, right, and what’s your plan then? Why don’t we scream and run away. That’s about the form of your fighting skills anyhow ain’t it?”

“Just shut up – it’s Christmas” You snapped, looking at him as if he needed to drop it. But this just irritated him, as if you were chastising him. Like he was someone you could control. Emasculate.

“Poor little y/n, making things up for a scrap of attention again” He stuck his lower lip out and tilted his head to the side, in a way that nobody would describe anything other than patronisingly, “You don’t know who you are, not without me” He added the end after a pause.

“You’re the one that followed me around for months on end before I agreed to date you!” You bit back. This is where everything tended to go south. Fast.

“Yeah? Well we’re only together after last time ‘cause I took pity on you and took you back – saw how I left you wantin’ thought we might as well. You’re attractive at least” He leaned in and took your chin, moving you to face him as he insulted you. You held back tears. He was supposed to love you, why was he always so mean?

“Fuck you, Spike!” You shouted, grabbing his wrist and moving him from touching you before adding, “You’re such a self-assured pig!”

“Yeah, you love it” He purred.

“I hate you”

“No, you don’t” He stated. Before dragging his voice out almost sing-song like but in a humourless way, “You want me. You need me” He bit his lip, moving closer and closer, making you shiver. He was trying to charm you into submission. Again.

Well, it wouldn’t work… not this time anyway.

“You’re the one that wouldn’t leave Buffy’s doorstep until I came back with you! You’re obsessive! You’re a slave to love, no - to pain, Spike!” You stated, moving away from where he had started to back you against the wall.

“Slave to you” He offered, that look in his eye. Offering to forget about it, although he had been the one that had been cruel. His look offering making up. In bed, wherever you wanted. He would even apologise if it meant you wouldn’t leave him again. But you were still mad, still angry at the way he spoke to you.

His look almost made you back down, he was hard to resist. You were addicted to each other. Even when you were fighting it could switch to sex so easily. To hot passion.

But not today.

“No. You’re not. You don’t want me. You want drama, a fight. I’m sick of it! Forget it” You shouted, continuing, “I mean it this time, Spike! We’re done!”

“Love, you don’t mean that – we’re-”

“Finished!” You ended his sentence for him, “Get out!”

“No- I’m the one with my name above the door, you don’t bloody pay the rent” He said, backing away from you as you had that look in your eye. You could be downright vindictive.

“Neither do you - it’s a crypt, you don’t pay shit!”

“You wouldn’t throw your fella out just before Christmas, would you, love?” He tried as you had walked him out of the front door, throwing his leather duster at him. He caught it in a ball and clutched it to his chest.

He sighed exaggeratedly. He really didn’t want to have to rough it somewhere, exposing himself to possible sunlight. He wanted you again. He cursed himself. Wished he had just kept his mouth shut.

But you weren’t so innocent. If he hadn’t created an argument, you would have done. It had been in the air. Building up over weeks.

“Bloody women!” He screamed at the door you had unceremoniously slammed in his face. He heard you slide the bolt across the door and he kicked it for good measure, howling in pain and hobbling away.

To add insult to injury, as he stalked through the streets trying to find a suitable crypt it had started to snow. The first bloody snow here in centuries and he had been caught up in it. It couldn’t get any worse.

Shit. Why did he have to think that? He rounded the corner and almost ran straight into the Slayer. He had been dragging his feet, kicking a stone until he looked up and saw her.

“There a reason you’re terrorising the sidewalk, Spike?”

“None of your business”

“Y/n’s kicked you out again hasn’t she?” Buffy’s face lit up as his face gave away she had guessed correctly.

She enjoyed seeing him like this. She was your best friend and she thought (no, knew) that you were too good for him. She told you all the time. But you were both too swept up in the animal attraction. In the possessive, heated entanglement you couldn’t escape if you wanted to.

“Betty the do-good…-er” Spike floundered. It wasn’t his best line. He was ridiculously sad. Mourning the loss of his relationship with you again. He craved you, he wept for you. There was a deep aching in his chest the further he walked from the crypt. The further he walked from you.

“That was tragic. You weren’t kiddin’ when you said you were bad” Buffy said, not able to hide the smile at her own joke.

“Yeah, well, just lost the love of my un-life here. Give a bloke a break” He snapped, sniffing and trying to wipe his eye on his sleeve subtly. Buffy rolled her eyes but for some reason, before she went over to the crypt to collect you and the overnight bag you had packed and re-packed more than you can count, she turned back to him.

“You know she feels the same. Maybe it’s time to let go, Spike. Or buy jewellery. I hear girls like jewellery” Buffy shrugged.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t know” He muttered, luckily she didn’t hear it or she would have spun back and staked him on site. She only hadn’t before the previous interaction because she knew you would never forgive her.

Your relationship was infuriating. And not just to you and Spike. It had a ripple effect, it was a part of your friends lives too. One day you would be shouting and screaming, the next passionately making love on the nearest surface. It was exciting and painful, like whiplash from a rollercoaster. The rollercoaster that was y/n and Spike.

It had been a few days now. You were staying at Buffy’s. She was a good friend to you. No matter how many times you and Spike yo-yo’d between love and hate she was there for you. With as little judgement as she could.

She comforted you while you cried, heartbroken despite Buffy being sure you would manage to find it in your heart to forgive him yet again. You clutched the mug of hot chocolate she had made, complete with marshmallows. She had learnt well from Joyce.

Dawn had slipped you some of her freshly baked sugar-cookies that she had made specially to cheer you up. She had decorated them with little Christmas characters which made you smile at her.

The girl adored your relationship with Spike, whether rightly or wrongly. She looked up to you, wanting to emulate a passionate relationship like that herself when she was older. It was like you were in a romance novel or something.

What you and Buffy didn’t know that since you had moved in, Dawn was Spike’s spy. She was, for the price of $5 and scary stories from his past, she told him all about what you said and how you were feeling. He now knew you were upset, missing him. Wallowing the same as he was. Well, good. But now, he had to make it up to you. He made Dawn help him brainstorm into the night.

She wanted to do it, she was sure it was for a good cause. In the name of true love, obviously.

Spike walked her back to Buffy’s where the Slayer was pacing and you were watching out for her to come home. You were going to give her the heads up that Buffy wasn’t pleased that she had gone awol. The snow had fallen thick now, anything could have happened and Buffy was scared Dawn was hurt.

You saw her then, with him. Your heart rose and your eyes glistened. You watched him trudge beside her, the white glow of the snow lighting up his face, making his cheekbones more prominent. He took a final drag of his cigarette before throwing it away, his eyes finally meeting yours through the window.

You walked to the door and unlocked it, whispering to Dawn that Buffy was gunning for her before turning back to Spike.

“Love…” He started. You just shook your head, you were still hurt.

“Goodbye, Spike” You said pointedly, closing the door on him once more. This time you turned with your back against the door, sliding down it as you started to cry. Dawn worried that it would take more than the Christmas gift they had been planning to win you back as Buffy scooped you up. She suggested that there was plenty of Christmas films you could watch, to take your mind off things. You nodded, leaning against her shoulder debating yourself whether to run after him or not. Buffy decided against any heavy romance-based films as you continued to sniff.

Eventually, Christmas Day came and it was the first that you spent without him in years. You usually made up before. You spent the entire day with a fake smile plastered on your face, not just at the slightly misjudged present from Anya (it was a vibrator, because you were on your own. You opened it in front of Dawn not realising and Buffy had to cover her eyes).

You thought about him the entire day. You ached, pined. You almost braved the thick snow, that you had almost been snowed in by, more than once before one of your friends distracted you with something.

As night fell, you gave up hoping. That was, until, there was a sharp knock at the door. His knock, you knew it. You had slammed the door in his face too many times not to know that knock. You sprinted over there, swinging the door open.

“Spike” You breathed, smiling. You had felt his absence so painfully.

“I know, I’m not stopping, wouldn’t wanna interrupt the touch-feely bollocks I’m sure is in full swing about now” He said and it made you smile, You loved the way he spoke. His accent. The way he phrased everything as if he had crafted it just for your ears.

He handed you a surprisingly well-wrapped gift as you smiled down at it, “It’s- for me? But I didn’t have time to get-”

“You know the only gift you could give me worth anything would be you” He admitted, which was how you felt for him. You didn’t need this, but you knew this was his way of apologising.

You opened the present and gasped, smiling wider. It was jewellery, just the kind you adored with a little gem that sparkled in the moonlight. You looked over at him, how could you ever have doubted him? He did his best by you, he always did. You knew who he was when you had started dating, just as he had known who you were.

“Spike, I’m sorry for how-” You started, but he shook his head, taking your hand.

“This- the way we- it’s not right, I know it” he admitted that the way things were, the bad seemed to take over the good. He lived in hope, though. He was convinced that this time it would be all love, “But I want you, I burn for you – it’s why the gem’s that colour, see? You’re the only one for me, the only one I could ever love through it all” He said it so honestly. So sincerely.

You invited him in after you whispered your own affections, much to everyone else’s chagrin. You showed them the gift and Dawn cheered, telling you she helped. You grinned at her and Spike had to convince Buffy not to stake him again. You both stayed in the living room for a moment, listening to the rest of them talking and just gazing into each other’s eyes.

Then you were kissing. His lips on yours hotly, you had missed this so bad. His lips were made for yours. He drank you in, all of you. Your flaws and your perfections.

He loved your everything. The good and the bad. And you matched his message. He felt it, deepening the kiss. Forgetting where you were for a moment. Until he heard your friends mutter insults at him.

He picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. All the while, you had barely stopped for breath. You never wanted to part from him again. You were pressed close to him, willing him even closer.

His lips caught any exposed skin on your neck, your jaw as he carried you without word upstairs. You looped one arm around his neck, the other against his jaw so you could catch his lips again with heightened desire.

The others just watched you leave, trying to ignore the way you were all-but grinding against Spike in anticipation. None of them were surprised by the turn of events but they weren’t exactly pleased either.

Buffy, Xander, Willow and Giles all shared a look as you and Spike thudded against the walls as you walked along the corridors upstairs trying to find a room to slip into.

They all wondered how long it would last this time as you gave yourselves a very merry Christmas.

#Spike #Spike btvs #Spike x reader #Spike imagine #Spike x you #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #btvs #btvs x reader #btvs imagine #btvs x you #Christmas fic #12 days of christmas #12 Days of Xmas #female reader #female #x reader

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border-spam · 3 years

Text

Leech Lord - The writing’s on the wall

Here we go, folks. Heavy time. Big one.

Tonight was just them, happy in the afterglow of laughter and far too much to drink. That calm quiet that falls with trusted company you can be at ease around. It was nice.

She'd assumed he felt the same way from the barely audible whistle of his breathing to her right. Figured that he was relaxing too, enjoying the dull heat of wine numbing his joints and their usual simmering pain. It was good, it felt right, until the peace was interrupted by the clink of his glass as he shifted, and the hoarse, strained whisper of -

" You're gonna leave one day, I know you will. I'll chase you away. You'll get sick of having to deal with me just l-like everyone does."

The groggy cloud behind her eyes dissipated instantly as his threat landed like ice-water, and she clumsily sat forward, wineglass dangling from her loose hand as she stared at him in confused disgust.

" What?... What are you talking about.”

“ Don't put that shit on me, Troy. Don't... don't even fucking dare try to drip feed that self hating poison into who I am. God, what is wrong with you? "

He didn't meet her eyes, still staring at the glass in his hands as he hunched in his seat, like he was about to crumble into himself. Looking somehow so much older and so much younger than she knew he was - like a child carrying the weight of the world. He mouthed something, then stopped. Started again, paused again. Reconsidering what he'd been about to say as his brows furrowed and lips tightened into a grimace.

Chasing what he wanted to express to her, grasping at it futilely, trying to find the right words and stumbling. Same self made snare as usual, tightening around his neck. The same trap he always set for himself, triggering as he stepped blindly towards it.

He sunk a little lower into himself as he wilted under her disgust, hair falling forward and blocking the shame burning across his face.

" I... I'm sorry, Sei. "

By @godkingsanointed

???: She just drives me fuckin crazy man! She just- UGHH

??: She's like fire.

???: Yeah, a hot headed little-

??: NO. Can keep you warm, safe, give light to see by. But if you don't treat it with respect, it you think that's all it's for, try to contain it, you'll be burned.

???: I don't think that's all... I-I respect her!!!! I can't believe you're taking her side in this!"

??: No sides. Just something to think about.

???: Ughhh, screw this!

(Sounds of a door slamming shut)

(A few moments of silence)

??: I know...He's gunna burn her out. All of us.

(Ding of a voice message being received)

???: Thanks. For listening.

??: Ha..we got him thinking.

By @hieroglyphix

S: Wh- Ven?! what the fuck are you- how the fuck did you get in here?

V: Aw c'mon Sei, is that any way to treat a guest? I get that you're a bigshot s-saint and all but c'mon--

S: Last time I checked, people who break into other people's houses are considered burglars, not guests- and get your fuckin' feet off my desk!

V: Hey now, just cause I broke in doesn't mean I stole anything. Im more of a buddy, paying you an....impromptu visit! Yeah!

S: ( sigh ) God, forget the semantics of it all, what the hell do you want?

V: It ain't about what I want, I came here 'cause of what you want.

S: ...Pardon? Oh God, tell me this isn't some kind of-

V: Waitwaitwait it ain't like that, S-Sei, you know i don't run that way anyhow. I came because you need a s-sign.

S: ...A sign.

V: Yeah, a sign. s-see, I know what you're planning on doing, I've seen it all laid out in the path ahead of us. But you're draggin' your feet too damn long, and it's only gonna get worse from here. so Sei, listen to me, I'm your sign. Get the fuck out of here, and don't look back for nothin'.

( silence )

S: So, let me get this straight. You broke into my house, just to....tell me to leave?

V: Well when you put it like that it doesn't sound super great, but...yeah.

( silence )

S: Who else knows about this?

V: Only me, and I ain't about to rat on you. I don't blame you for wanting out, things....well, between you me and the floorboards, things ain't gonna get any better around here.

S: ( deep sigh ) Good God...

V: Look doll, I ain't here to force you into a decision, and I won't judge you for not leaving. I'm just tellin' you which way the wind's blowing. One friend to another.

S: Right.

( uncomfortable silence )

V: Well, you think on what I said. I've gotta get home to my brother, it's spaghetti night.

S: Try not to let anyone see you on your way out, the last thing i need is more brainless gossip out on my hangar.

V: Heh. Not like they caught me on the way in, not exactly the sharpest tools out there. Anyway, nighty night Sei.

( the maglock doors hiss open )

S: And Ven?

V: Yeah?

S: ...Thanks.

V: Don't mention it.

[end echo log]

I’m just a bit shook up…” her voice cracks as she mutters. “He said some stupid shit tonight, bout how everyone leaves him and he knows it’s..” she sighs, letting her head drop to face the table with a weak shrug.

“Stupid as in.. it got to me. He ever say anything to you that’s just.. you know it’s off? I sometimes think it’s me..”

JK waited patiently, wanting to reach out and rest a hand on her shoulder but not quite knowing if that would overstep their tentative friendship as it formed.

“…that I’m going crazy and feeling things that aren’t real, overreacting…” she pauses, swiping her auburn hair back from her forehead, thumbing at her temple as she lets her eyes stare unfocused at the wall behind their shoulder.

JK grunts thoughtfully, then shakes their head a little, their mask tilting downwards as they rumble out a huff of air. “He’s… talking a lot more recently, yeah, bout things no one asked.”

They empty the bottle in a deep dreg, and lower it carefully to the table in front of them, spinning it slowly on its edge. “Like he’s replyin’ to a question that was never said, and he’s pissed about it. Gets snappy at nothin’. Gets angry at nothin’. I don’t say things, I just listen. He likes when you just listen, I think you know that too.”

She nods, watery eyes looking up at them through her thick eyelashes.

“It’s just, the thing’s he’s saying now, this last year?” JK glances to their side again, towards where Troy sleeps.

They turn back to Seifa and reach out then, touching a finger against her forearm as it rests against the table, happy to see she doesn’t flinch away even though she’s hurt too. Proud that though she’s struggling to hold back tears that swell along her lash-line, she’s still listening to them. Really listening, like what JK thinks matters.

“It’s the same kind of things axe-hands I knew in the clan would start to say before they’d go wrong. Harsh things to themselves, about themselves, about how others were seeing ‘em. I don’t like that kind of talk much either, I’ve seen where it goes. People start doing that and they aren’t themselves for much longer. Become the same thing they were worryin’ everyone already saw them as.”

They turn the bottle to its side, idly twirling it with their index finger, only the hollow grind of the glass on the table filling the silence.

“I’ve seen him goin’ the same way. Same way they did, and I don’t know how to stop it, I’m not good with..” they gesture at the bone-white mask still marked with that crumbling splash of old rust-red blood, pausing to collect their thoughts. “..Not good with talking the way it would help. Saw him hurt acolytes the last few months. He used to just grab, threaten…”.

Their leg bounces beneath the table, nerves firing haphazardly as they swallow down the frustration lodged between their teeth. “Now he grinds. Cracks their bones in that metal fist. Not enjoyin’ it, not laughin’, but doin’ it anyway. He smells like bitter antiseptic sometimes, and I think he’s takin’ things out on himself where he figures we won’t know, under the steel.”

“I don’t think he is well. Inside him. None of us are here, lady. We’re all broken a little, but we learn how to live with it. It’s that or die. He doesn’t know how to do it. We gotta…”

“… we gotta watch out for our brother”.

By @godkingsanointed

He'd dare let venom drip about Seifa around them, and Troy knew from the palpable atmosphere change that it wasn't going to be swept under the rug. He would have crumbled, he would have backtracked into sickening apologies, but after the grilling Tyreen had already given him? How helpless and powerless he already felt, child was the straw that broke him.

He span on his heels to face them, spinal implants flaring and eyes all cruel angles and rage. It only took one or two stalking steps for them to be at odds face to face, not that he was sure what he'd do when he got there.

"The fuck was that pal?" He seethed, letting jaw plates click and flicker. They didn't seem intimidated, too full of fury to even care.

"Ungrateful. Fucking. CHILD. She made you, made both of you. Without her, you'd be skag shit right now." They paused to look him up and down before continuing. "Instead of a shit eating skag."

His reaction was instant, flesh hand snapping forward to grab at the decorative chains around their neck he'd gifted them, pulling them close. "You fuckin-" he choked, mind clouded on what to do. He wanted to smash them to bits, he wanted to pull their fucking head off, but he had enough control yet to hesitate.

"If you wanna spar big man, let's go. You know the rules." They spat. They'd set out a few of them a couple of months back, not really thinking it would come to it, more so sharing a part of clan life so he felt included. Clan members could fight out frustrations, as long as it didn't go so far as to lose a body for raids or hunting. No using the prosthetic, no hitting Troys left side, no weapons. That was what they settled on, and now staring him down? They didn't like the idea of fighting him, of fighting any family. Never had. But if he refused to talk and instead was intent to act like this? They could find some satisfaction in landing a hit or two.

Mention of that past conversation seemed to snap him out of it, hitting home just how far JK was willing to take this. They didn't care about title or siren status, as far as they where concerned this was a family matter. And as far gone as he was, Troy had no intention of full on brawling with family. He pushed them away as he let go, face burning in shame and frustration as he backed down.

"Not worth my fucking time..." he mumbled, storming away and letting a metal fist impact a wall as he went,one final show of force.

They stayed put after he was gone, head tilted back and taking deep breaths as they steadied themself. Seifa...didn't need to know about this. She hardly needed defending and she'd scold them for almost coming to blows over a few nasty words but...They couldn't have just bitten their tongue either.

Ven - "I mean boss, have you considered ever actually thinking about what you want?"

Troy - "..." Troy - "...Everything. All the time. I want e-everything. Everything. Everything I see, all the time. The way you love Eli, and the way he smiles at you and it's real 'cause he knows how to love, I want that."

Troy - "...I want it, and how Sei puts her arms around all of you and never me but she looks at me and I feel s-something but I don’t know how to say it in words, I want that."

Troy - "...I want Jak-Knife and the way their mask a-and their face - both of them are beautiful and better than anything I can pretend I see in a mirror and I want everything all the time, Ven, and I don't even know if it's me that's actually wanting."

Ven - "Right..." Ven - "...Ok bud, so first of all, I'm going to get us some drinks..."

By @godkingsanointed

-- Uroboros log - M0noli7h / S0litar3 prsnl e-dev com msg log //Private Line - SAVED- blame=GKT -- Machina: So Adalphus is where you’re saying is the best bet. Aurum: Simple logic. Close enough to Pandora for you to still perform your role, far enough from.. well. What you need to be far from. Machina: Feels apt somehow, ending up wasting away on some off-world base. Never did belong here, huh. Aurum: A feeling I understand better than I’d like. Regardless of our personal opinions you’ve been one of the few colleagues I’d describe as competent, A’Rosk. It’s a reassurance to know you aren’t abandoning your position. Machina: Mutual on that, Sol. Staying on isn’t by choice though. I’m sure you know that too. You remember Fragor. Aurum: I remember what was left of her absolutely ruining a pair of Ausler dress shoes, yes. You’re going to be hounded. You know that. Machina: I know that, I’m just praying it will be gently. The Crusaders are under Troy, and Troy.. Machina: I Machina: I trust Troy

Aurum: That’s your prerogative, regardless of how stupid. Machina: Thanks, you nasty shit. So you’ll manage the fund movements once I’m out, keep the flow going to the accounts I gave you? Aurum: Yes, yes. Not exactly work deserving of my touch, mind you. Junkers leave residue. I prefer to keep my hands clean, Seifa. I’m sure you appreciate that, considering this deal. Machina: Ohhhh absolutely. You scratch my back, I’ll stab yours. Aurum: Cute. I’ll manage your assets this side, and my little history with those slag shipments to Elpis will remain off your people’s raidar. Machina: That they will. Solomon, much as it pains me to say this, it has been a pleasure. Thank you. For.. for everything. Aurum: Not needed, Seifa. It’s just good business. [end log]

#borderlands #borderlands 3 #bl3 #troy calypso #tyreen calypso #calypso twins #leech lord #seifa #ven #jak-knife #my writing #my hcs

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danganronpasurvivoraskblog · 3 years

Text

Out of Luck.

[3 Days Later]

Hagihara: Now we come to the recent bombing attack believed to be caused by the Terrorist group, Organization Zetsubou, at the office of Detective Yui Samidare.

Hagihara: Future Foundation officials who were on the scene have extended an apology to the public, and have stated they have opened an investigation into the case, while adding that they already have a suspect in mind, and are pursuing their line of enquiry.

...

*Makoto sits inside the Mighty Anchor with a drink, and stares depressed up at the screen.

Is everything alright sir?

Eh? Oh, nah, it’s nothing...

...

Forgive me for asking this...I just wish to know out of curiosity, but...

Yeah? It’s ok, you can ask.

Are you, by any chance, Makoto Naegi?

Well...yeah...that’s my name alright...

But I’ll warn you, I’m not the man I was...

What’s that supposed to mean?

Well, if my life was the same as it’s always been, you wouldn’t be seeing me here.

Oh, sorry if that sounded rude, I just don’t typically drink...

Down on your luck?

Ironically...Thanks for hosting me anyhow.

It is fine. I was merely curious. You needn’t share the details, but I’m sure all of this will get resolved one way or another...

Yeah, I...

*belch!*

Sorry! Sorry, that was so rude.

Haha. Clearly you’re not an experienced drinker if you don’t find that normal...

Hahaha...right...

...

Hey...would you mind if I got some of this to go?

Not at all. But please be careful on your way home.

*Makoto leaves the Anchor and makes his way towards a convenience store.

Gotta buy dinner with the limited cash I have...

*He enters the store. It’s mostly empty, save for one or two customers.

Clerk: Evening.

Evening...

*He goes to the back of the store to get what he wants for dinner.

...Mr Naegi?

Huh?

*Out of pure coincidence, he bumps into Misako.

Oh...evening Ms Rokuhana...Fancy meeting you here...

You...look like shit.

Thanks...You look as beautiful as ever...

Sorry, I know that sounded rude, but...

Well...I heard what happened with Detective Samidare.

I don’t know how much you heard, but before you say anything, know that I didn’t kill her.

I know you didn’t. If I thought that, we wouldn’t be talking.

But seriously, are you ok?

Well, it’s been hard living by myself. I haven’t been to my temporary apartment for so long, it’s kind of run down. The shower doesn’t have much spray, and nothing in terms of hot water.

Oof...that sounds rough...

Eh, I’m getting by...So long as I can, you know, stay alive, it’s fine.

What brings you here anyhow?

Mr Ouma asked me to pick up a few ingredients for him. Mr Hayamoto at the Cabaret specifically likes to use this kind of lobster in his meals.

Ah, right, your night job...I take it you’re enjoying it.

Misuzu’s happy, so I’m happy. That’s all I can say.

Clerk: P-Please...

...?

*Makoto suddenly hears the clerks voice in the quiet store. Curious as to what’s going on, he peers around the shelves.

Payment’s due. Money in the bag. Now.

...!

*Makoto watches as the clerk takes handfuls of cash out of the cash register and stuff them into the bag of the intimidating looking man, who holds him at gunpoint.

(Don’t cause a scene...Don’t cause a scene...! Don’t! Cause! A! Scene!)

*Makoto repeats this line in his head as the mugger wraps up the bag and leaves.

...

*Makoto takes his dinner to the counter and pays for it.

Keep the change...

*He leaves the store, and Rokuhana leaves behind him after she pays for her own stuff.

...It’s horrible...I want to interfere, so desperately but...I know my chances against a man with a gun...

...Yeah...me too...Have a nice evening Ms Rokuhana.

You too Mr Naegi.

*Makoto lazily walks up the stares to his apartment. He walks down the hallway and sees the man opposite him speaking to his girlfriend.

Lovey-Dovey Woman: Ok, but seriously honey, I gotta get goin’.

Lovey-Dovey Man: Aw c’mon babe! Fine...see you tomorrow.

(Dick...)

*He secretly thinks this to himself as he enters his room.

*sigh*

*He takes out his dinner from the box and stuffs it in his crummy microwave. He also takes one of the drinks of alcohol that Dash gave him, and starts to drink it.

Hagihara: More news regarding the bombing in just now from our reporters. Future Foundation’s Second Branch Leader, Mr Byakuya Togami, previous heir to the Togami corp, has issued a public statement. He revealed that as a result of the bombing, the Foundation Chairwoman, Mrs Kyoko Naegi-Kirigiri, has become critically injured and hospitalized as a result of the attack.

*hic!* Kyokoooo...

Hagihara: He has also stated that he shall take over her duties as the Acting Chairman until she has recovered.

*An extremely drunk Makoto blows a raspberry at the screen.

PPPFFFFFTT! Fuckin’ AAASHOOLE! You ain’t never gon’ be shit!

*He tosses an empty bottle towards the screen. It flops onto the floor and rolls towards it.

NGGGH!

*All of a sudden, extremely loud rock music begins to play from the door over. The guy who Makoto saw earlier with his girlfriend is across the hall playing guitar at full volume.

UGH! I can’t- ugggh...Can’t TAKE IT ANYMORE!

*Makoto bursts out of his apartment and hammers the door across from him. His neighbor stops playing and opens.

Lovey-Dovey Man: Wassup?

Hey...could you...ugh...keep it down plez, I’m really havin’ a hard time, and I need some quiet.

Lovey-Dovey Man: Psh, sure, whatever.

...!

*Makoto suddenly grabs the man by his shirt collar.

TURN DOWN THE FUCKING MUSIC BEFORE I BREAK YOUR GODDAMN FINGERS TO STOP YOU!

Lovey-Dovey Man: ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! Shit, you’re stronger than you look! I-I-I’ll turn it down!

Fuckin’ better...

*Makoto pushes him back into his apartment and returns to his own.

Yeah, thas right asshole, youre my bitch hehehehe...

*Makoto grabs a pillow and spoons it, flopping back down on his sofa as he watches the TV.

Hagihara: Detective Kyoko Kirigiri and Detective Yui Samidare were originally both Detective’s working for the anonymous Detective Library group, meeting when the two were only children. However, even in their youth, they solved a number of cases, both independently and together.

...

Ngh...Kyoko...KYOKOOOOO...

*Makoto tightens his grip on the pillow and cries himself to sleep.

#danganronpa survivor #danganronpa #danganronpa 1 #dr1 #danganronpa new world order #drnwo #danganronpa blowback #drb #makoto naegi #dash #dash nwo #misako rokuhana #the fugitive arc

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thegreatestofheck · 4 years

Text

Little Village pt.6＊Outer Banks＊

find the first five parts on my masterlist here!

word count - 3.6k warnings - An inkling of swearing. synopsis - June asks herself some important questions and goes to visit a friend with a surprise visitor. tagging - @apoguecalledjj @ijustreallylovethem @deathcompass @lolitstiana @ jxpiter-sxturn @parkerpetertingle @diverrdown a/n - Y’all getting some Rafe in this chapter, you’re welcome. Also, I heard some vying for JJ x June, so, I’ve given you a smidgen of that as well. You’re welcome again. Also, I just reached 400 followers which is absolutely mind boggling. Thank you all for your support! I hope you enjoy!! Stay safe, healthy, and groovy out there!

***

June slept on the floor the first night she got home. Kie, Sarah, and John B all tried to coax her to bed once Eleanor was sound asleep in her home made crib. When it was clear that June wasn’t going anywhere, Pope and JJ pulled the mattress off her bed and brought it to her.

“Are you going to be okay here?” John B asked quietly, putting a hand on June’s shoulder as she sat on her mattress, facing Eleanor’s crib. June put her hand over her brother’s and smiled.

“I don’t think there’s anywhere I’d rather be,” she said softly. John B gave her shoulder a soft squeeze before leaving the nursery.

June sat there, watching her baby through the bars of the crib with a smile on her face. She could feel exhaustion in her bones. She hadn’t slept a wink since that first night at the hospital. All of it was catching up to her now, but she didn’t want to close her eyes. She was afraid of missing a single second with Eleanor, even while she was sleeping.

But even more, June was afraid that if she fell asleep, she would wake up and Eleanor would be gone. It wasn’t the first time it had happened. It wouldn’t even be the second. Or the third.

June had lost her mother and then her father and she thought she had lost her brother too when the cops thought he had killed Sheriff Peterkin. In light of all of that, she couldn’t imagine losing Eleanor. She’d only had her for three days and the baby already had all of her heart. Losing her would be...

June blinked back tears. That was a horrible way to think about things. She didn’t want to be the girl that was afraid that everyone she loved would one day leave. Closing her eyes, she reminded herself of all the people who had never left her.

JJ, who had been one of her best friends since she was in the fourth grade. Pope, who was always there to make her laugh and tell her random tidbits of information that she never knew she needed. Kie, who would not hesitate to come running if June needed her to. Sarah, who was never opposed to going on a shopping spree to get her mind off of anything and everything.

And John B, her brother. Her brother, who had gone on a treasure hunt to fulfill their dad’s stupid legacy. Her brother, who held her as she cried after they listened to that audiotape that was only addressed to him. Her brother, who was framed for a murder that he didn’t commit and still came out on top.

June reminded herself once she opened her eyes that not everyone leaves and that Eleanor would still be there when she woke up. Sucking in a deep breath, June lay down on her side, still watching Eleanor.

Her eyes closed at some point and then she fell asleep. It was peaceful for all of two hours before Eleanor started to cry. She was crying for only a few seconds before June had her in her arms, but her little cries were heard throughout the house. Kie, Sarah, and John B all stumbled into the room still half asleep.

“She’s fine,” June said, turning toward them with a smile. “Just hungry.”

John B’s cheeks went red and turned away from the room, walking back to his. But Kie and Sarah lingered, small smiles on their faces.

“I want one,” Sarah cooed, walking forward. June gave a quiet laugh, bouncing ever so slightly to keep Eleanor calm.

“Relish in Eleanor for a bit, Sare,” June said. “You’re a bit young to have one of your own.”

“Says you,” Kie said with a laugh, leaning against the door. When the realization of what she said hit, her smile dropped and she looked up, her mouth falling open. “Jue, I didn’t mean-”

June laughed again and shook her head.

“Don’t worry about it, Kie. I think my experience is enough to warn you not to get pregnant now,” June said, looking back at Sarah. “Especially not with my brother.”

Sarah sighed, her gaze fixed on Eleanor.

“You’re right,” she said finally. “I guess I’ll just have to take that baby as often as I can.”

June let them relish in Eleanor for a few moments before she looked up at them.

“Alright you two, back to bed,” she said finally. “And don’t get up every time she cries. You have school tomorrow, you need sleep.”

They both mumbled their agreement.

“’Night Jue,” Kie said as she turned to shuffle back to the futon where Pope was passed out.

“Nighty night,” said Sarah, giving a small wave. She closed the door behind her.

June set Eleanor, who had already fallen back to sleep, in the crib before settling back on her mattress.

Four weeks later, June was feeling absolutely over her head. She was getting maybe three hours of sleep a night and spending most of her days stressing over all the things there was to stress about. All of her friends were at school for most of the day, leaving her in an empty house with a baby she barely knew how to take care of.

Sometimes, Ms. Lana or Mrs. Heyward would stop by for a chat or to watch Eleanor while June took a 20 minute nap. She was ever so grateful for them and all of their help, but June couldn’t help but feel like she was on the end of her line.

Crying in the bathroom while Eleanor slept, June couldn’t help but feel like there was something she was doing wrong. Taking care of a baby on her own had seemed impossible before her baby was even born and now it seemed even more so. She needed to start working again soon, which meant finding someone to watch Eleanor during her shifts. June didn’t think she could part with her daughter, but she needed to start making money.

It was all just too overwhelming for her and she didn’t know how to do it all.

She was kneeling by the toilet, her endless sobs making her dry heave. But then she heard Eleanor crying from the other room, so she wiped her tears, sniffling, and stood. She would figure things out, she always did.

***

“Hey, J? Have you seen Eleanor’s-”

June froze in the middle of the living room, her gaze fixed on the couch. In the ten minutes it took June to get ready, he had fallen asleep. Holding Eleanor against his chest, the two snoozed peacefully. Both of his hands were on top of Eleanor, almost completely covering her body. She was making her usual quiet sleeping sounds and with every breath that JJ let out, he made a hushed “shh” sound, as if still trying to calm her down as she slept.

June felt her heart seize in her chest at the sight of them.

She had hoped that after Eleanor was born, that feeling she got when JJ was around would be gone too. It had been the hormones, that’s all, she tried to tell herself. But it had been almost two months since Eleanor was born. She had been working to get her body to look like it had before, but those feelings she had still remained.

It wasn’t right for her to feel this way about her brother’s best friend. He was a year younger than her and she had spent most of her life practically raising him. Just because he was older now didn’t change anything. What would John B say if he knew that she was feeling this way? He’d probably be disgusted.

And it didn’t even matter anyway. JJ liked nothing more than being able to hook up with whatever girl he wanted and was never tied down to one person. June had little doubt that was going to change any time soon. He was a teenage boy, after all. He was allowed to do what he wanted.

She wouldn’t lie and say that making breakfast for the random girls he brought home wasn’t irritating. But cleaning up after her little brother and his best friend was always irritating. June was starting to wonder if irritation was what she was really feeling.

Seeing him holding her baby wasn’t making any of those complicated feelings go away.

June put an amused smile on her face and crossed her arms. JJ startled awake when she cleared her throat, his blue eyes opened wide. He held onto Eleanor tighter as he tried to figure out exactly what happened.

“Hi,” he said with a groan and a smile, taking a hand off of Eleanor’s small body to rub the sleep out of his eyes. “You ready to go?”

June nodded, not trusting her own voice. JJ nodded, tucking his arm underneath Eleanor and pushing himself up to a standing position. The baby in his arms made a few disgruntled sounds before settled back into her new position.

“Come on, Little Pogue,” he said quietly, walking her over to her car seat. “We’re going on a little ride.”

“Thanks for watching her while I got ready,” June said, walking toward them. JJ shrugged, not taking his eyes off of the little girl.

“It was only ten minutes, Jue. No biggie.” He stood back, giving June room to crouch down and place a small, handmade a blanket over Eleanor.

“Thank you all the same.”

“Where you goin’ anyhow?” He asked, flopping back on the couch and placing his hat back on his head backward. June felt herself smile.

“Sarah’s,” June said, picking Eleanor’s car seat off the ground. “Said Wheezie really wants to meet her, but Rose won’t let her come down here. ‘Sides, I thought it might be nice to get us both out of the house for a bit.”

JJ plucked a magazine off the counter and started to flip through it.

“Sounds fun.”

“Do your homework while I’m gone.”

JJ rolled his eyes. And there it was again. The reminder that no matter how much he seemed to have matured in the the last few years, JJ was still a kid and June wasn’t sure why she was expecting him to act any less than that.

“Thanks, mom.”

June sighed, shifting the car seat. Two months and she still hadn’t really gotten the hang of carrying this thing.

“See you, J.”

“Byee.”

It took a little bit of a struggle to get Eleanor into the car, but June managed it without waking her. The entire ride to Sarah’s, June tried to get the picture of JJ sleeping while holding Eleanor out of her head.

Knocking on Sarah’s door, June held the now awake Eleanor in her arms. Sarah threw the front door open with a grin on her face.

“June! Oh, Little Baby Pogue.” Sarah’s grin grew even wider somehow. “Come in, you two! Wheezie and Rose are so excited to meet Eleanor.”

June stepped inside. It wasn’t the first time she had ever been in the Cameron residence, but she was surely amazed every time she stepped foot inside. She was sure she could fit the entire Chateau in just the living room.

“She’s darling,” Rose said as they all sat in the living room. “You named her Eleanor?”

“Yeah,” June said as Eleanor sat on her lap, staring at Wheezie and Rose who sat on the other couch. Sarah sat next to Eleanor, nervously tapping her heel against the ground.

“Was there a reason for the name?” Wheezie asked, sliding to the ground so she could coo at Eleanor. June reddened, not really wanting to tell Rose that she had almost accidentally named her daughter after JJ’s dead mom.

“Oh, you know, it just felt right,” she decided to say instead.

“Hey, June?” Sarah put a hand on her shoulder. “I have to tell you something really quick.”

“I’ll take Eleanor!” Wheezie said more than enthusiastically as she stood. June glanced at Sarah, hoping to see whether or not it was really that important. But from the look on Sarah’s face and the state of her nails, June could tell that it was.

She was hesitant to leave Eleanor with a woman like Rose, but if she knew anything about Wheezie, June felt like her daughter would be safe in her hands.

“What’s wrong?” June asked as Sarah pulled her to another room.

“I should have told you this before you came and I’m so sorry I didn’t.” Sarah crossed her arms over her stomach, looking around askance.

“Sarah, what is it?” June reached out and put a hand on Sarah’s arm, her eyebrows pinched together. The girl took in a deep breath, preparing herself for what she was about to say.

“Rafe got out of rehab yesterday.” Of all the things that June was expecting Sarah to say, that wasn’t one of them. “And he came back home early this morning.”

June’s eyes widened. She had just walked into a house with the boy who had shot and killed a woman because he was high and then pinned it on her brother, the boy who had beat up her best friends on multiple occasions, the boy who never once hesitated to call her names and tear her down. And she had brought her daughter with her.

At the sound of a quiet cry from Eleanor, June rushed back into the living room, her heart already racing in her chest.

And there he was, Rafe Cameron, standing in front of Wheezie as the young girl held Eleanor in her arms.

“Get the hell away from her!” June crossed the room and snatched her baby out of Wheezie’s hands, shielding her from Rafe.

There was a pained look in his eyes, a look that June had never expected to see on his face. But it wasn’t from the fact that June had taken her daughter back.

“June, I need to apologize,” he said, taking a step closer to June. She narrowed her eyes and backed off, holding tighter to Eleanor.

“I don’t want to hear shit from you, Cameron,” she seethed. Rafe breathed deeply, shutting his eyes for a moment.

“Give him a chance,” Wheezie said, standing behind her older brother as Rose held onto her shoulders.

“A chance? He framed my brother for a crime he didn’t commit and beat all three of my friend’s half to death!”

Rafe cringed, as if hearing her words cut him like actual daggers. For the moment, she didn’t care.

“I did some fucked up shit, June,” he said. She was appalled to see tears in his eyes. “And I regret all of those things.”

“Beating Pope up with a golf club? Choking Kie out? Beating the shit out of JJ for no reason? Shooting Sheriff Peterkin? Letting the police think that my brother had killed her? He almost died for that!”

“So did my sister.” June expected his words to be explosive like they always were, but he spoke quietly, calmly, the tears never once leaving his eyes. “I almost got my baby sister killed and...I hurt you and your friends and I am sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me.”

June let out a heavy sigh through her nose. She was never really the type to hold grudges. In her experience, that just made one wrinkle faster. Forgiveness was the only way to keep bitterness out of her heart.

But she remembered that feeling of waking up and JJ telling her that John B was on the run from the police. She remembered Sheriff Shoupe telling her that her brother and Sarah had died. She remembered cleaning Pope and Kie and JJ up after she brought them home. She remembered having no time to mourn her brother because her three other friends needed her.

Yet, John B did end up coming home. He and Sarah made it back safely. JJ and Pope and Kie healed up perfectly fine. In the end, everyone was safe and everyone was happy. Rafe had done his part, going to rehab, getting clean, trying to be better. Here he was, apologizing even.

Slowly, June nodded and began to relax.

“Thank you.” Her voice was quiet as she spoke. “And I...I’ll try to forgive you. For whatever it’s worth.”

A smile broke out on his face. He quickly blinked his tears away and ran a hand through his messy hair.

“She’s beautiful, by the way,” Rafe said, nodding toward Eleanor. June glanced down at her daughter, amazed to find her gaze fixed on the boy in front of her, a smile on her little face.

“Thank you.”

“Is she...JJ’s?”

June was taken aback, ice running through her veins.

“What?” She scowled and shook her head. “No. Of course not.”

“I didn’t mean to....shit....I just thought-”

“June, why don’t I get you some lemonade, yeah?” Sarah said from behind. June eyed Rafe carefully before nodding. Sarah put a hand on June’s elbow and lead her toward the kitchen.

“Why would he think that JJ is Eleanor’s father?” June asked, sitting at the counter as Sarah poured her a glass. The other girl shrugged.

“You and JJ have always been close.”

“No closer than I am with Kie or Pope,” she huffed to herself, bouncing her knee to keep Eleanor entertained.

“Well....”

“What does that mean?”

“I dunno, June.” Sarah pushed the glass across the counter top toward her friend before lowering herself into a seat. “The two of you just seem...close. Closer. Besides, I don’t think anyone would expect Kie or Pope to be Eleanor’s baby daddy.”

June glowered at her lemonade glass, unsure as to why she felt so defensive all of the sudden. Maybe it was those complicated hormones that she was still experiencing from the pregnancy.

“Whatever. Let’s talk about something else.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t text you about Rafe. It’s been a busy morning,” Sarah said, twirling the liquid around the bottom of her glass. June was grateful for the subject change, even if it didn’t shift to her favorite topic.

“I understand. I was just shocked is all.”

“Thank you for understanding. And thank you for not flipping out and killing him or something,” Sarah said with a small smile. June found herself laughing.

“I definitely thought about it.”

Sarah let herself give a little laugh before her smile faltered and it fell. Tears gathered in the girl’s eyes and she tried to hide them by taking a drink.

“After everything he did....” Sarah shook her head, swallowing a lump in her throat. “I didn’t think I ever wanted to see him again. But he’s still my brother and despite everything, I still love him, you know?”

June sort of understood the feeling. Neither of her parents had ever killed anyone, but they both did things that no parent should ever do and June still loved them. If her mother or Big John came waltzing back through the Chateau doors, June knew she would never be able to turn them away.

“I understand, Sarah.”

“I’m worried about what John B will say when I tell him.” Her hands started to shake. “I don’t want to ruin what we have, but I can’t just turn my brother away when he needs me.”

“Just tell him what you feel, Sarah. He’ll understand. It might take him some time, but he’ll come around.” June reached out and put a hand over Sarah’s to steady them. “And if he doesn’t, I’ll beat his ass.”

A smile quirked at the edges of Sarah’s lips.

“Question,” Sarah said, forcing herself to smile as she took another sip of her lemonade. “You’re always taking care of other people, June, but who takes care of you?”

The way Sarah asked it, the question seemed to be innocent enough. But it caught June off guard. If she was honest with herself, she didn’t think about it much. She took care of others and they took care of her in return, didn’t they? They all rallied around her when she got pregnant, doing more than she could have ever asked.

“You guys do,” she said, trying to keep her glass out of reach of Eleanor’s grabby hands. Sarah sighed.

“When was the last time you told one of us what was really on your mind?” Sarah asked, pushing a little farther than June was used to. She gave a small shrug, hiding behind a drink. “Rafe mentioning JJ clearly made you upset. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

“Why?”

June could feel irritation starting to brew in her chest. But there was the question again; was it really irritation at all? Sarah was just trying to help, even if it felt like she was rubbing salt in an old wound.

“I’ve just got more important things to be thinking about,” she said finally. Sarah watched June carefully before deciding that it was clear she didn’t want to be pushed any further.

“Alright,” Sarah said with a sigh. “Are you comfortable coming back to the living room? I can tell Rafe to go upstairs.”

June shook her head slowly.

“I should probably go,” she said before downing the rest of her lemonade. “It’s almost this little girl’s nap time. But I’ll come back.”

Sarah stood, helping June out of her chair and leading her toward the front door.

“I’m glad you came,” Sarah said as she hugged June. “Despite everything.”

June looked into the living room and saw Rafe, Wheezie, and Rose all staring at her. All she could muster was a small wave.

“I’ll see you at the Chateau soon, right?” June asked. Sarah smiled.

“Of course.” She placed a small kiss against Eleanor’s head. “Bye, Little Lovebug.”

Eleanor laughed and reached for Sarah, who pressed one last kiss against her palm.

“Bye, Sare.”

“See ya, June.”

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second-chance-stray · 3 years

Photo

RP Log: Riylli is worried about Cravs.

Riylli Aliapoh knocks on the door to Cravs room, having grabbed some emergency drinks beforehand just in case. "...Cravs? You in there?" She called out, shuffling her feet awkwardly. "I was thinkin' we could talk a little? About the whole... plan, thingy..."

Cravendy Hound is right about to tuck into a pastry roll when Riylli knocks on the door. Panicking, she grabs the plate and hides it unceremoniously on the ground behind the bar. She then clears her throat and shouts to welcome the miqo'te in. "AH YEAH. I'm 'ere! To talk."

Riylli Aliapoh enters the room, drinks in hand, and gives it a look over. "...Huh. This place is a lot... Cozier than I expected." She muses, stepping further inside. "I was kinda expectin' it to just be a hammock. That's how you folks sleep in Limsa, right?" She asked, moving to take a seat by Cravs' minibar, realizing her grabbing drinks from upstairs may have been a little pointless

Cravendy Hound rolls her eyes. "Did ye expect my room to be an empty space with a hammock in the middle, then? Haha, yer right about 'em being common in Limsa, but mostly cause they're cheap and fit on boats." Behind her is an assortment of bottles, most half empty. She sets out two glasses and pours Riylli a bit of rum.

Cravendy Hound: "So, mind pourin' me a bit of what ye brought?" She eyes the drinks that Riylli has with her.

Riylli Aliapoh watches Cravs pour her a drink, then looks towards her own. "O-Oh, uh, this is just some stuff I grabbed upstairs... Sorry, I only remembered last minute you're supposed to bring gifts to peoples homes..." Riylli mumbled, rubbing the back of her neck. Still, she picked up one of the bottles and pours Cravs out a shot. "It's just some mead. I didn't know what you liked but you brought that bottle yesterday so..."

Cravendy Hound chuckles, but accepts the mead anyway. "Word of advice. If yer regiftin' someone somethin' ye got for free, it's best to not let 'em know. I don't care, but a fancier fella like Mivo would."

Riylli Aliapoh 's cheeks coloured a bit at the gentle scolding. "...Sorry. I don't exactly care what that pompous shitehead thinks, but I'll make sure to bring you a proper housewarmin' gift next time!" She declares with a nod, taking the first sip of her drink. A strained expression on her face makes it obvious she is clearly struggling with it, but she manages to get it all down thankfully. "It's... good." She fibs

Cravendy Hound: "Yesterday I learned the guy ain't a thoroughbred, though 'e might talk like one. But anyway, enough about 'im. Look, Riylli, I literally don't expect anythin' of the sort. I'm not the type to get wound up over 'ousewarmin' gifts or proper etiquette." She gestures over to the pile of dirty dishes stacked on top of a barrel behind her to drive home the point.

Cravendy Hound picks up on Riylli's struggle and grins. "......well, if ye like it so much, 'ow about a refill?"

Riylli Aliapoh hesitates, but nods. "S...Sure." She says, trying her hardest to be a good houseguest. "And, I still wanna get you somethin'! I don't suppose you'd accept an animal pelt or something along those lines? That's usually what we Miqo'te gift when visiting other clans. Can use it as a rug!"

Cravendy Hound: "Could use a rug. Yeah, why don't ye bring me one?" Cravs grabs the bottle of rum and empties what little remains into Riylli's glass. She thinks for a second. "...would 'ave to be pretty big to be used as a rug. Ye 'untin' bears out there?"

Riylli Aliapoh: "Usually antelope and boars, but those won't do as a gift. I could totally get you a bear if that's what you want!" She says with a grin, picking up her glass and holding it for a moment. "Though... Might take a bit. I doubt Ava will let me use one I don't catch myself." She pauses to take a deep breath before once again downing her drink, trying to swallow it before she can taste it and making another face when that plan failed. "...Speaking of. I talked to her like I said, and she seems to agree that goin' about things the legal way is probably the best path... But... I sorta... I don't know." She shuffled in place awkwardly, before closing her eyes and taking another deep breath. "I... Don't think it's a good idea to go through those... 'friends' of yours..."

Cravendy Hound: "Well, be careful? Bears are no joke, and 'onestly...ye'll 'ave the Elementals to worry about too. Stupid forest ghosts sent a buncha bees after me, even though it was just a misunderstandin' on my part." Cravs twitches and looks around herself. "They can't 'ear me in 'ere, can they? Shit. I mean, the blessed, all-mighty Elementals."

Cravendy Hound leans back and focuses on the bits of dust caught on the edge of her glass, the topic change putting her a bit on edge. She sighs. "Well, what do ye suggest then? Go diggin' for a different crime to catch Mindred with?"

Riylli Aliapoh shrunk a bit, feeling the change in the atmosphere. Though Cravs could not see from behind the bar, her tail had ended up in her lap and she was nervously fiddling with it. "I... Don't know. I don't think I have any suggestions really... I just... Don't like the idea of you getting close to them again." She mumbles, deciding the nearby plant had become rather interesting and keeping her eyes on it instead of Cravs. "But... I'm sure we can think of something, right?"

Cravendy Hound raised a brow. Was Riylli...worried? Or jealous? Both, neither, something else altogether? Either way, Cravs was having trouble reading Riylli's reaction. "Eh? Oh, uh, they're really not that bad. I'm sure if ye met 'em ye'd change yer mind. And it's not like I'm plannin' on goin' back to piratin' full time anyhow, I've got responsibilities 'ere now."

Riylli Aliapoh raised an eyebrow, not in disbelief but in curiosity. "They... Aint? But I thought..." She hesitates, not really sure how to put her words together. "Um... Tell me about them then? If they really aint bad, then we can go through them. Just... I don't want you going back to... Y'know..." She mumbled, hoping the implication was enough for her to avoid mentioning anything specific.

Cravendy Hound: "A bandit's a bandit until ye get to know 'em. Not sayin' they ain't crass, violent, or dumb as 'ell sometimes, but at the end of the day, they're just people who value....freedom," Cravs tries, as she attempts to present them in the best light possible. "Don't go lookin' for 'em yerself though. Seriously."

Cravendy Hound tilts her head as she tries to complete Riylli's thought. "...don't know if I can make any promises. I'm naturally....well, I'm not particularly good at bein' good."

Riylli Aliapoh makes a face. "Violent is what I'm worried about... There are plenty of Miqo'te clans and tribes that aren't afraid to kill if someone trespasses or goes against their laws, but... They don't go lookin' for trouble like bandit groups do." She says, before Cravs speaks again. Her frown returns, "That aint true! I know you're a good person! That's why you helped build Dirtpatch back up, and that's why you're helpin' keep Baldur safe to begin with!" She insisted, something about the Roegadyns words seeming to strike a nerve. "Your past don't matter to me, but... I can't let you go back to being bad. So... Please, if working with those people might push you back on that path, can't we just find another way..?" The anger in her voice wavered near the end as she made her plea, a hint of fear in her eyes

Cravendy Hound is silent for a moment. She downs her mead and holds her glass upside down in her hand as she looks away. This isn't the first time she's heard something like this, and every time her gut reaction is disbelief. She can't shake the feeling that she's fooling everyone. Pretending. It'd be easier if no one put their trust in her, let her flail about without pressure.

Cravendy Hound: "I am...already...that's." She shakes her head. "Okay. If we can find another way. But if we can't, well. Then I wouldn't be opposed to bringin' ye along, if yer up for meetin' some unsavory saltfolk."

Riylli Aliapoh's eyes light up. "...Really?" She hops to her feet suddenly, leaning against the bar counter excitedly and absolutely not standing on her toes to do so. "Yeah! We'll come up with a great plan! And, if not, then I'll be there with you when we meet 'em to keep you safe!" She declares, grinning wide enough to show off her fangs. "Rising can help us come up with somethin' clever I bet, I always hear those folk up in Idyllshire are supposed to be smart after all, so maybe some of that rubbed off on her!"

Cravendy Hound lets out a well-meaning laugh at the thought of Riylli and Rising keeping her safe. "Wha? Pf, if I bring ye two to meet 'em, I'll be the one on babysittin' duty! I'm worried one of ye'll rub one of 'em the wrong way!"

Cravendy Hound: "Does it work that way? Don't think I ever get any smarter from talkin' with Lin..."

Riylli Aliapoh: "Course it does! You've learned stuff about earth magic from hangin' around me, haven't you?" She asked, a question that clearly only had one safe answer. "If anythin' bad happens with them, Rising and I can handle ourselves! I aint scared of wannabe bandits, no way they can live up to what we got in the shroud! But... Anyroad. As long as they don't try to pull you back into their mess, I won't start nothing. Even if I really want to."

Cravendy Hound shakes her head with a grin. "Ayyye, I'm really startin' to regret agreein' to this...it's like take yer kid to work day. Ye'll, uhh. Ah," She pauses and a slight blush crosses over her face. "I've got a reputation to uphold in that group, okay? Ye guys see a real soft side to me, but they don't, so don't say anythin' embarassin' and leave most of the talkin' to me when it 'appens!"

Cravendy Hound: "Oi, I've done a lot of watchin', but not a lot of learnin'. And tossin' a rock with my 'ands doesn't count as earth magic!"

Riylli Aliapoh 's cheek colour. "I-I aint a kid! It'll be fine dammit!" She huffed, Cravs striking a nerve. "Though, I aint gonna let them try to say bad things about you, reputation be damned. That's why I'm goin' really, to make sure you remember that you aint that person anymore. Er... But we won't go! We'll come up with a better plan, remember? Solve it the 'lawful' way!" She said with another nod. "Or... At least a way not involvin' them."

Cravendy Hound: "Haha, yeah, that's right. Let's 'ope for the best then," Cravs answers. She doesn't want to get her hopes up, but Riylli makes that hard. "....Wait. Are ye actually a kid? I don't remember if I ever asked yer age."

Cravendy Hound: "Always thought ye were 22 or 24. But maybe...Gods, don't tell me yer actually...older than me..." Cravs trails off, pale as a sheet.

Riylli Aliapoh crosses her arms, giving Cravs a glare. "I said I aint! I'm an adult dammit, this is my twentieth summer." She mutters, daring Cravs to try and say something further about it. "Just because I'm shorter than you doesn't make me a kid. Everyones shorter than you!"

Cravendy Hound lets out a sigh of relief. Then: "Risin' ain't shorter than me."

Riylli Aliapoh: "She aint?" Riylli has to pause to think about it for a moment, it was rather hard to tell from her perspective. "Well, everyone not a Roegadyn then. My point still stands! Don't treat me like a kid just because I'm a Miqo'te, it's not my fault I wasn't born a giant like you!"

Cravendy Hound: "I think she's a little taller than me. Or maybe I'm gettin' mixed up with 'er lance. Eh." She shrugs. "I ain't treatin' ye like a kid! It'd just feel weird if ye were older than me is all!"

Riylli Aliapoh keeps her arms crossed, eyeing Cravs suspiciously for a few moments more before finally nodding. "...Good. We Miqo'te get looked down on all the time, but even if you're my friend I aint gonna let you do it too! It's gettin' late for you though, yeah? Should we make plans to meet up with Rising later to brainstorm? Can get drinks at the same time!" She said, flashing Cravs another bright grin

Cravendy Hound: "'ow else can I look at ye? Yer all the way down there!" Cravs teases, shooting Riylli a smug wink. "Hah, sounds like a plan. Best ideas come while drunk!"

Riylli Aliapoh glares back at Cravs. "Very funny. We'll meet up later then." She says, turning to leave. She opens the door only to pause for a moment, then turning to flash Cravs one final grin. "Enjoy your pastry!" She says, sending Cravs a smug wink of her own as she taps her nose and quickly disappears out the door.

Cravendy Hound 's eyes go wide and her mouth opens to shout something back, but Riylli is gone before she can get anything out. Damnit, how long did she know?! Cravs groans.

#ff14 rp logs #Cravendy Hound #Riylli Aliapoh #the idea of putting food on the floor will always amuse me #that and food in your pockets

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