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archiveofidentityconstellations · 5 years

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cass won't share her cheese nibs and bruce doesn't love me and i think?? that i deserve better??? than this???? i'm moving to alaska where NO ONE CAN TELL ME WHAT TO DO

the sequel to that one trix yogurt fic

I feel like I should tell you that I am MASSIVELY fucked up right now

like i am such a garbage heap that oscar the grouch took a look at me and said

“fuckk off!! i have standards!”

anyways

it’s Brimothy, bitch

what is UP mothertrucksrs it is Me i am back here to write a report on the UNBELIEVABLE SHIT I JUST HANDLED.

okay so u know how Gotham city is on crack cocaine all the time. with like some LSD and heroin and never ever any weed except for like who is that pig guy?? nevrm he doesn’t have weeeed but like he is definitely a Pig. what the fuck is his name. what the fuck.

okay so anyways

is it Goyle

Doyle

Pigoyle

tin foil? lmao

OKAY FUCK anyways the City, who Also May Be My Lover, is in a constant life crisis (which i relate? a Lot) and do you want to know this s h i t

Crocodile

Killer Croc

who Steve Irwin would be v disappointed in

Is climbing

into people’s FUCKING TOILETS

???????????????

THIS ISN’T FLORIDA

THIS IS NEW JERSEY

WE WEAR SHOES IN THE WINTER

WHAT SORT OF FLIP-FLOP WEARING CUCKER DOES HE THINK HE IS

okay so obviously KC is a big guy. a Dude. a whack-o whaler of a Male. a Big Boh. the largest banananana in the pack. he is Big. so he cAn’t fit into most people’s toilets. he can, however, fit into Big People’s toilets (big as in wealthy, not As in Tom Hanks)

so KC (crispy,,,nuggest…i wonder if fried alligator is good—not that im thinking of eating him, though someone really should threaten him with cannibalism, like if you’re going to be a bitch about it then you deserve the same done to you, it’s just manners) is in cahoots and canoodles with Someone Who Shall Not Be Named (not bc i don’t know, I do, that’s how detectives work. it’s my JOB to know, and i was a prodigy) but bc there is a whole other report detailing this person and their movements and its case file #4461 if u don’t believe me, but i ain’t no snitch, but i will say that tonight’s events connect to file #4461 so Dad if you’re reading this you should already have it out bc it’s your JOB

speaking of jobs ding ding here is mine coming round the mountain as she comes bc the apple bottom jeans the boots with the fur will be coming round the mountain when she comes shE’ll be coming round the mountain she’ll be coming round the mountain she’ll b e coming round and getting low low low low low l ow low

It was a crisp October night. The sun was blinking its sleepy lids, setting the ballroom with an incandescent glow. Bruce Wayne strode across the floor, his daughter Cassandra accompanying him. They wore matching expressions that the privileged always wear: guarded, yet hungry. Hungry for what? Probably for the crab cakes just out of reach. Neither of them had an allergy, and Cassandra in particular had a propensity to shove anything edible in her mouth, so it really was a tragedy that those crab cakes were all the way across the room. There should really be a table right in the middle of the dance floor just for snacks. That way caterers wouldn’t have to do so much leg work, which is actually a good thing, because that ballroom floor is slippery af. This narrator should know, he has Died A Few Times getting there. Suddenly, the night’s festivities were interrupted by a social faux pas: a scream.

You don’t just scream at regular parties, it’s uncouth and hysterical. But you can scream if the social boundaries have already been crossed, and boy, were they crossed.

You see, Dear Reader, there was a man in the toilet.

I use the term “man” loosely, as his glaring yellow eyes do wonders when you might just crap your pantaloons. You start imagining things, like dinosaurs whcih i am personally a big fan of bc Jurassic Park has a kid named Tim in it and I am also Tim.

hI y is our toilet so big that Killer Croc could wiggle his way up? also how long can he hold his breath.

it seems to be impressively long

hey Bdad how long can he hold his breath? please let me know if you can, and if you won’t i will eat all your wafers becauzs i wa

Mrs. Trenton screamed and fled the impertinent bathroom guest, who wasted no time in ripping the commode to pieces. There was a roar and all the guests paused, unsure if it was merely pipe problems or if they were under attack.

Reader: They were, in fact, under attack.

The guests, deciding that Mrs. Trenton was a social entrepreneur, followed her lead and began to scream. Killer Croc had made it to ballroom, standing at an impressive height just outside the doors.

He was Not wearing a shirt.

okay have u ever noticed that Killer Crog hasn’t got any nipples????? where are they? he’s got pecs but no nipples??

where did they go where are his nip nops i kno people don’t like to think about this but i hAve wondered since i was like 13 like where did they go. has anyone ever asked him.

did they fall off

“Take the crab cakes!” shouted Matthew Fielder, a lil bitch.

“No, take me!” said Cassandra Wayne, who would literally rather die than give up those crab cakes.

Killer Croc paid them no heed. He desired one thing and one thing only, the sweet satisfaction for his carnal craving: Humain Flesh.

(alliteration hell yeah hell yeah take that Mrs. Johnson i do know shit and im creative as well u jusy don’t know how my brian works it’s like a golden goose egg trap ye ye ye)

i just Realized

i am…a high school drop out

i don’t know why im doing this

Dear Reader, as an Aside: Smoking can lead to many health issues, especially if one begins smoking at a young age. Harmful side effects include increased risk of stroke and brain damage; muscular degeneration, eye cataracts; cancer of lips, nose, tongue, and mouth, and nipple loss.

Jason you may want to have a talk with you and your mipples

The terror in the air was stifling. Cannibalism conduct was not something conveyed in etiquette classes. Rich people never expect to be eaten.

Reader, everyone hardly breathed. Something deeply primal had occurred.

From the doorway the golden eyes struck. Deadly. Lethal. Hungry.

This was more than vengeance. It was a sadistic occasion of play.

okay good thing Dames wasn’t there because he fucking HATES KC he gets all huffy and shrieky about him like “he’s a HYGIENE PROBLEM” and it’s like,,,,,.ur right but i don’t want to agree with you because where do we stand if i do that?? as brothers???

i think the fuck not

anyways i just realized i’ve been calling Waylon Jones KC the entire damn time (NEWSFLASH ASSHOLE) but to be fucking h, he wants to to be called that. i called him Allen once and he was so PISSED so i can only think of actually calling him by his name. he wouldn’t even be chill with me naming the sewer alligators even tho they were awesome names. i called one Dundee. that’s fucking genius. that’s just. i’m fucking amazing. stupenous. and unappreciated.

maybe his nipples fell off because he swims in shit every night?????

question: why do i swim in shit almost as often

what the dfck

what are my life choices

i feel like there should have been some fine print involved here

“Robin duties include scraping shit off your asschreks 3 times a week”

mahbe,,,,maybe not what i want

personal choice

though i haven’t really seen any alligators in the sewers for years now, which is

oh my god OH MY GOD HE ATE THEM HE ATE THEM OH MY GOD OH MY GOD !!!!!!!!!!

HE FUCKING HE FUCKING. HE. HE ATE HIMSELF HE FUCNING ATE HIMAELF AND HIS FAMILY HIS COUSINS HIS CPOUSINS HIS FAMILY OH MY GOD THIS IS LIKE MY 8TH GRADE GRADUATION ALL OVER AGAIN

im so disturbed……..i like, need to eat something. Fucking hell. this Not what i had in mind when i decided to be alive.

i feel like as if i woke up one day and i was the only one in the entire world who remembered Caillou. also could pull off my face and eat it like taffy. imw so. i.

mom i know i refused to go to Shabbat when i was ten so i don’t get to say this but:

this is Not kosher

oh heyy i want some pIckes

i was also thinking of takin a spin class?? like fuck it i like to bike. fuck it. and maybe iwdont want bruce and nigtwink fucking watxhing me with their beady eyes. like get those off my calves. my cleavage is up here, gentlemen. stop talking about proper form. some people can do things and suck at them. i’m never going to be like a professional ice curler. and i shouldn’t feel bad about that. who the fuck curls for fun. maybe Canada???????

note to self: look up the history of the sport of curling

i’m going to get good at it to piss off Jason

Back On Topic:

Killer Croc took a step forward. His mouth trembled, watering in anticipation. He took another step.

Mrs. Trenton drew in a breath.

The room was silent.

Far across the room, Bruce Wayne clenched his champagne glass. Cassandra Wayne stopped chewing the crab cakes. Reader, I won’t mince words: Waylon Jones crossed the threshold.

and the instant he put his foot down on the ballroom floor he fucking slipped like a drunkass toddler

like when Damian is really really tired bc he’s like 2 years old (only an evil 2 years old like chucky) and Jason tries to give him a high five

gremlin still doesn’t get that “down low” precedes “too slow”

and he like. faceplants

onto the fucking concrete

and then Bruce yells at Jason

and then Jason yells back

“I NEVER ASKED FOR SIBLINGS”

like it was something we all did, like wrote it down on our batmas lists for Brucie Claus

and im sitting there, a perennial Forgotten Middle Child

and Damian is like still. on the ground.

anyways KC is just slipping across the ballroom, slippering and sliding bc the floor was just waxed and it’s silent except for the wet slaps of his feet against the floor and the screech his tail makes every time he trips (sort of like this) and when he sometimes falls it makes that sound of when your thighs SLAP against the mats and it sounds like a wet walrus coming to cheer you on while a Giant simultaneously swallows a liquid-filled gummy worm down his throat like QAWAGGHHHHHHH only his falls reverberated against the ceiling panels and the cherubs looked down in like. disgust.

Cass began chewing the crab cakes again by the time Killer Croc fell for the twelfth time so idk it was an embarrassing situation

we all did that Thing people do when a social barrier is breached

we like…..avoided each other’s eyes and made light conversation

meanwhile Killer Croc’s body screeched in the background

anyways Matthew Fielder was like “so I hear you dance ballet” and Cass responded “uh huh. tap too” and the chewed up crab cake crumbs fell out of her mouth and onto the floor

i CAN’T

scrambled cock on a cracker, Cass why does Alfred let this happen????? what is this?????? like she can snort creme puffs like cocaine but GOD FORBID i put my elbows on the table and call damian “a poisonous little bitch” because he ate my croutons

the standards in this family are unbelievable

So everyone is just talking and Mrs. Trenton is sipping champagne now and Luis Alvarez is doing that thing where he starts trying to eat caviar one teeny tiny egg at a time and KC is just like WHUMPH for the thirtieth time

finally dad takes pity on him and crouches down and is like “hey how you doing slugger” which???? Offended me. Very Much.

that’s MY nickname

has Waylon No-Nipples Jones been adopted by Bruce Wayne??? has Waylon No-Nipples Jones retrieved HIS sorry ass from time?? i don’t fucking think so

the audacity of this man

but before Killer Croc can reply

Red Hood

BURSTS INTO THE ROOM

guns out, voice modulator kind of fuzzy like a broke refrigerator that makes an “eeeeeeeeeee” sound ever since i tripped over it and fell on it

which wASN’T MY FAULT

IM NOT “deformed baby zebra clumsy” FUCK YOU JASON

MAYBE HE SHOULDN’T KEEP HIS EXPENSIVE HELMET ON THE FLOOR THEN

you know what? I’m GLAD i tripped over it.

yeah. suck it.

im glad you sound like a 90s japanese transistor radio

off brand too

fuck you

I GOT A BRUISE NOT THAT ANYONE CARES

even Bruce was like “hey tim you need to watch where you’re going”

???

how about YOU watch where YOU’RE GOING

“where” as in TIME TRAVEL

REMEMBER THAT BRUCE

REMEMBER THAT?!???????

HUH BIG GUY?!???????!!???

no one is allowed to criticize me from now on

i am Above Reproach

anyways yeah Red Hood appears at the party and shoots KC and Bruce was like “why the FUCK would you SHOOT HIM” as if he has some misplaced paternal feeling for Waylon No-Nipples Jones because he called him slugger which is something he calls one of his other kids but whatever im not bitter im just insecure and sad all the time but don’t worry about it maybe i’ll die one day and you’ll all be sorry especially about Certain Things like not sharing cheese nibs huh Cassandra

so RH and Bruce Wayne kind of argue. like. literally sniping at each other bc SOMEBODY forgot that Red Hood is a criminal and not their misplaced son and RH is like “it’s!!!!! a tranquilizer!!!!! ya big hoe!!!!!” only he doesn’t really say it like that but everyone isn’t even listening at this point because this party has already been so goddamn weird and we’re all suffering from secondhand embarrassment

i am Assuming,,,,,that Killer Croc Jones “Jonsie No-Nipples” has been taken away to be put into jail and studied for his non-nipple properties but at this point i’ve been sitting here huffing that cold medicine or whatever Bruce gave me. which

oh yeah i was crushed earlier

it was by “slugger” but whatever

yeah his body broke mine

it was because Bruce and Jason were fighting again and not paying attention so

KC was tranquillized and like

fell on me

he drooled on me too

those ballroom floors really hurt

like my head feels like mush

Alfred’s oatmeal

on its second day

because i refused to eat it on the first day

that man has a spine of Steel and he Does Not Let You Waste Food

btw he fell on me because i pushed Luis Alvarez out of the way

he was really transfixed by those tiny fish eggs

it’s fun to put them on your tongue and let them like slide around

so i pushed him out of the way and was promptly crushed to death

B said something about a broken collarbone

i am more worried about a broken butt

fuck

my coccyx

PROFESSOR PYM wait no shit that’s a comic book character

anyways my butt is broken and im hungry and dad wouldn’t let me get out of the chair so i write up this report because I am A Real Life Detective and I do my JOB

once again im the best

hey red jood can you get me some cheese nibs cassandrA won’t share which is p mean especially since i was all for being eaten to give her those crab cakes red hoof red why isn’t he responding to me i want xheese nibs red hanz red red Red Hood please I require sustenance red fhau red gjji red hhood ted joood redb hood red red edds red red edd dedd red red red red red wd red what the fuck what a right bastard sometimes oh hi Badaman

EDIT: His name is “Pyg.” Fucking. Pyg. Points taken off for unoriginality.

decided to have a tumblr version too ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#take this and put it on my grave #in remembrance of me

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lgbtfalloutwinterholiday · 6 years

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[fic] Veronica Santangelo/Christine Royce

Happy Holidays!

Here is @nomette ‘s submission for @ffferris with Veronica and Christine.

Pairing: Veronica Santangelo/Christine Royce Summary: Veronica & Christine have a happy holiday together, can be set during any time (like past, in-game, or post-game), bonus if you want to throw in other characters also having a good time but no need to feel obligated to do that, & bonus for incorporating trans headcanons. Word Count: 2,542 Rating: Safe for work

It’s the 24th of December, and the Lucky 38 smells of tamales, pine needles and a mysterious mix of fruit that Raul’s been boiling for hours. Veronica and Arcade must have tracked down every package of Dandy Boy Apples in the Commonwealth to make this drink, but she doesn’t mind. It’s the holidays. Arcade’s put up some kind of weird candelabra he calls a menorah, and there’s a pile of presents sitting in the Rec Room and a bunch of lumpy stockings nailed to the walls, courtesy of Lily’s knitting needles. The V on Veronica’s stocking looks kind of like a U, but she’s not going to complain, not when Christine’s stocking is hanging next to hers.

Veronica pauses in the doorway to the rec room and leans against the doorway, enjoying the moment. Cass and Boone are playing pool, Rex is sprawled out on the floor, and the Courier and Christine are hanging spent bullet casings on the Christmas tree. Christine’s hair has just cleared two inches, and it sits in a little fuzzy lump on top of her head. Veronica feels a little kick of delight every time she looks at her. She can’t believe she’s gotten so lucky. Christine didn’t come back from the Sierra Madre the same- she barely talks now, and her hair has only just begun to grow back out, and her scars- but she’s still Christine, and Veronica still loves her, every piece.

“You going to come help?” the Courier asks. She’s a skinny, half-feral little thing who doesn’t talk much and doesn’t like to sleep in the same place more than once. Veronica’s always finding her asleep in random corners of the casino, her little hammock dangling between chairs or casino tables. Veronica doubts she’s seen two decades, but Benny’s bullet knocked half the memories out of her head, so there’s no way to know.

“I carried that thing halfway across the wasteland,” Veronica says. “I think I’ve done my bit.”

“But it’s fun,” the Courier says, puzzled. “Boone’s showing me how to identify the different kind of bullet casings. This is a .38, see?” She holds up a mangled piece of metal, beaming.

“Good job, kid,” Boone says.

“I’m more of a Power Fist kind of girl,” Veronica says, flexing to show off her weapon. The Courier contemplates Veronica, then glances back at the tree.

“We could put it on top,” she says, sounding kind of dubious. Christine makes a muffled snorting sound and bursts into laughter.

“No way,” Veronica says, wrapping a protective hand around her power fist.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Christine manages between giggles. “You have to admit, it would match the tree.” The tree- a scraggly looking young pine Veronica dragged all the way from the mountains near Jacobstown- is covered in bullets casings and caution tape. Several glowing bottles of Nuka-Cola Quantum have been wedged between the branches. The tree looks like it’s ready to come to life and stage an uprising against humankind.

“I don’t know,” Cass says thoughtfully, and smirks around the rim of her glass of whiskey. “I think it would look pretty good with Boone’s beret on top.”

“No,” Boone says.

“It is colorful,” the Courier says thoughtfully.

“No,” says Boone, and Veronica takes advantage of the distraction to slip away.

Arcade and Raul are in the kitchen, along with a alrge pot of what Raul calls “ponche” and an even larger pot of tamales. Rex is sprawled out in front of the oven, keeping an eye on the large chunk of Brahmin which has been roasting since this morning. He catches sight of Veronica and whimpers and wags his tail.

“Don’t listen to that faker, we’ve been giving him scraps all day,” Arcade says cheerfully.

“When are you going to give me scraps?” Veronica asks, and imitates Rex’s mournful face. Arcade gestures to the stove.

“There’s unmashed potatoes, refried beans, apple pie, carrot cake, Cass’s jalapeño cornbread, Cass’s go-blind eggnog, and ponche. Knock yourself out.”

“Unmashed potatoes?”

“Well, I haven’t mashed them yet,” Arcade says. “I’ve been busy with the tamales.” He and Raul have made what looks like about a million tamales to Veronica, and they’re only partway through the huge tub of masa. There’s a whole assembly line on the table- masa, leaves, stewed brahmin, chickpeas. Raul looks up from his current tamale and grins.

“You wanna eat, mija? You better work. Those tamales aren’t going to fold themselves.”

“Oh-fine!” Veronica says. It’s this or get robbed of her power fist, she supposes, and she’s always liked mashing potatoes. Halfway through mashing, she feels a warm pair of arms around her waist, and looks back to find Christine, her head leaning against the small of Veronica’s back.

“Hey there,” Veronica says happily. “You come to bust me out of this life of labor?”

“Nope,” Christine says, and stands on her tiptoes to peer over Veronica’s shoulder. She’s so small. Back in the day, Veronica used to pick her up and cart her around the bunker at every possible opportunity.

“Hmmm,” Christine says, and sneaks a bit of potato onto her finger and licks it off. A small smile sneaks onto her face, and Veronica can’t help but blush. She’d mash a hundred potatoes just to see that smile. She leans over and plants a kiss on Christine’s cheek, and Christine flushes and ducks away, smiling.

Neither Raul nor Arcade say anything; Raul is engrossed enough in his tamales that Veronica doubts he’s even noticed, but Arcade gives her a wink. It’s nice to be among friends. Christine settles down next to the Raul at the table and pokes at one of the finished tamales.

“So, how do you make one of these?” she asks Raul.

“Well, you start with the leaf…” Raul begins.

It takes them another two hours to get through all the tamales, and everyone is hungry by the time they sit down at the table and start serving food. Lily has a custom-made seat just for her, an early Christmas present from Raul and Boone to allow her to sit at the table with them. Veronica, Christine and Arcade are on the right side, Boone, Cass and Raul on the left. The Courier sits at the head of the table, food already piled on her plate.

“You want to say grace, mija?” Raul asks the Courier.

“Grace?” she asks, a little line appearing between her eyebrows.

“It’s traditional to thank God before eating a big meal,” Arcade explains.

“Uh, sure,” the Courier says. She clasps her hands together, then begins to speak. “Thank you Hestia, Goddess of the Hearth, for growing the crops, and thank you Hermes for my good luck, and thank you Hades for my life. I promise to kill a legionnaire in your name before the New Year, thank you, amen.”

“Fascinating,” Arcade says, and gets elbowed by Christine. The courier is a little weird, but so is Arcade, and he doesn’t have the excuse of being a teenaged ex-slave. “Uh, amen,” he says hastily. Cass looks like she’s trying real hard not to laugh. Boone lifts his glass and grins.

“To killing legionnaires,” he says, and everyone around the table echoes the sentiment. They clink glasses, and everyone digs in. Raul’s punch is fruity and sweet, with a faint hint of sunset sarsaparilla, almost almost worth the trouble it took Christine and Veronica to find twenty boxes of Dandy Boy Apples. There’s a mountain of tamales, some heinously spicy cornbread, moonshine, apple pie, pinto beans stewed with molerat, carrot cake, eggnog, roasted brahmin, gravy, and mashed potatoes.

Back at the Brotherhood, they mostly ate variations on carrots and potato, since they couldn’t get much to grow around the bunker. Fried potato, mashed potato, boiled potato, potato soup, potato salad- every potato and then some. Veronica skips the mashed potato and goes for the cornbread and roasted brahmin, and sees Christine do the same next to her. They grin at each other, and Christine serves Veronica a slice of pie.

“What’s in this?” Arcade asks, shoving a piece into his mouth. “I thought Raul used all the apple in his ponche.”

“Mutfruit,” Cass says matter-of-factly. “Some other stuff too, but I don’t kiss and tell.”

It’s quiet for a while as everyone stuffs their face. At first, the Courier had to be bullied into eating with a fork instead of with her hands, but she came around after Veronica pointed out that if you carry a fork and knife with you, you can also use them as back-up weapons. The Brahmin is spicy and savory, with a crisp outside and a juicy inside, and it vanishes as fast as people can cut pieces free. Everyone has at least one of Raul’s tamales, and Boone has three. The man puts away food like a refrigerator.

Afterwards, when they’re all full enough to burst, one of the securitrons comes in and clears the plates, and Rex finally gets his plate of scraps.

“I feel like the casino is going to collapse under my weight,” Cass says, groaning.

“Could that happen?” the Courier asks. She doesn’t look worried, only curious. Veronica supposes that once you’ve been shot through the head, a little building collapse probably doesn’t sound too bad.

“Probably not,” Arcade says hastily. He starts in on an explanation of how architecture works, but Veronica doesn’t hear any of it, because Christine has reached out under the table and taken her hand. One by one, she laces their fingers together. They used to do this back at the dining table in the hall, but back then it was one part bravado and one part fear. Veronica isn’t scared anymore. It doesn’t matter if anyone sees.

But she doesn’t need to show them. It’s enough that she and Christine know. Christine runs her thumb gently over the edge of Veronica’s hand, and they stay there like that, smiling, together at last. Dinner conversation turns from mutfruit to apples to weird things they’ve eaten, and Cass disgusts them all with tales of some truly dubious liquor. She and Boone are well on their way to being smashed, which bodes poorly for the midnight fireworks they promised the courier.

Only the Courier’s excited demand to get them all to the Christmas Tree for presents dislodges them from the table. Veronica and Christine walk, hand in hand, to the rec room, followed by a slightly staggering Boone and a very staggering Arcade, who got stuck supporting him. The debate about the star has been settled by ED-E nesting on top of the tree like a very strange bird.

Veronica settles onto the couch, and Christine settles onto her lap. Christine is light, a pleasant weight, and she grins when Veronica sneaks a kiss onto the side of her face. The Courier, oblivious to the people watching her, tears into her first present. It’s a framed piece of paper- nothing more than a contract, really. The Courier isn’t very good at reading. She looks at the paper, her lips moving as she tries to sound out the words.

Arcade, ever thoughtful, underlined the relevant part.

“... the undersigned Ca-Can-tra-ta,” the Courier says, frowning. “Cantrata. What does that mean?”

“Veronica and I did some research,” Arcade says. By research, he means that they broke into a privately owned building, but no one needs to know that. The man at the front desk of the Mojave Express deserves it for being so unhelpful, anyway, and it’s not like they stole anything valuable. “We looked up the records from when you were hired, and found what you signed as. It’s your name. Cantrata. I think it comes from Cantare, to sing.”

The courier looks at the paper, then at Arcade.

“My name,” she says, and repeats it. “Cantrata.” A strange look crosses her face. “I used to sing,” she says to herself, then gets up and launches herself at him. Arcade wraps his arms around her and pats her back.

“Hey, I helped,” Veronica says, and Arcade gestures for her to join in the hug. The three of them squish awkwardly together on the couch, and for a moment Veronica is on the verge of having a real Christmas feeling.

“Thank you!” Cantrata says, and wiggles out of the hug. “I got you something too!” Whatever it is, it’s apparently too big to fit under the tree, because Cantrata runs out of the room. There’s a loud clunk, and then she comes back hauling a huge power fist painted entirely in teal and pink.

“It sets off explosives when you punch people,” she says solemnly, and hands it to Veronica.

“Uh,” Veronica says, and picks it up. One side has a yellow warning sign on it. The other side has Veronica’s full name written on it in beautiful pink calligraphy, complete with a little heart dotting the i. There’s little rhinestones around the cuff. The courier must have hired someone to bling it out.

“It’s beautiful,” Veronica says solemnly, and Cantrata grins.

“Open your next present,” she says.

There’s a matching dress.

Veronica’s final haul is a power fist from Cantrata and a dress from Arcade and Cass, a new waist pouch from Boone, a blanket from Raul, a lumpy sweater from Lily, and one more thing. After the festivities have died down, Veronica and Christine go back to their room and shut the door.

Christine’s presents come in two colorful little bags. The first one is light. Veronica lifts it out to find a cute little bra and underwear set. There’s not very much of it.

“You can wear it under your dress,” Christine says, flushing.

The second pair is a set of shoes, likely looted from some vault. They’re a little dusty, but they fit well. Veronica slips her feet into them, and remembers. Back when she and Christine were kids in the bunker, it was a common game to talk about what you’d do when you left. No one ever left, of course, but it was fun to pretend that you would. Some kids wanted to be ranchers, some wanted to be singers, some wanted to be gamblers or rangers or deathclaw tamers. Veronica wanted to be a princess. She wanted to have a pretty dress, and live in a colorful, safe place where they never had to eat potatoes or worry about raiders. She wanted someone to love her, not for what she could do for them, but for who she was.

“A glass slipper, for my princess,” Christine says, smiling.

“I could be in rags, and you’d still make me feel like a queen, Christine,” Veronica says, and crosses the room. Christine’s hands are so small in her own. “But the pretty dress sure helps.”

“You were a princess when we were in a hole in the ground,” Christine whispers. “But you finally made it to your tower. Merry Christmas.”

On the roof, Boone, Cass and Raul are drunkenly shooting off fireworks. The sound rings through the air. Outside the window, sparks rain down over the strip in showers of gold and green, but Veronica only has eyes for Christine. Their lips brush, and for a single perfect moment, the world is exactly as Veronica has always dreamed.

#nomette #ffferris #veronica santangelo #christine royce #fallout #fallout new vegas #submission #fanfiction #long post

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birdiethebibliophile · 7 years

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{fic} Bright-Eyed and Bushy-Tailed (part 2)

Word Count: 2.5k Relationship: Lucien/Cassian Characters: Lucien, Cassian, Rhysand, Feyre Warnings: Depression, PTSD, also just a lot of regular Sadness, Abuse

Here on AO3.

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Cassian had made Lucien exchange cell numbers with him before Feysand got back. So far he was very nearly regretting it – despite Lucien’s obvious skill as a photographer, he kept sending Cassian blurry pictures of guys lifting weights at the gym with the caption is this u.

But finally, Cassian had a chance to use number as he’d intended.

When should I pick u up? he texted to Lucien bright and early Monday morning.

id hopd ud forgotten about that he got back five minutes later. He was surprised Lucien had responded so fast – he’d expected him to be asleep, as any sensible person should be at the god-awful hour at which Cassian awoke.

Nope, sorry. What time?

He was still waiting for Lucien’s reply when his 6am Tai Chi class started to trickle in, so he put his phone in his bag. Once he’d waved all the businesspeople too hipster to do yoga out the door nearly an hour later, he grabbed it again, expecting a text from a few minutes after his own. Cassian frowned when there was no message notification on his phone. He decided to give Lucien the benefit of the doubt. For now.

But by eleven he was done with that nonsense.

If u don’t tell me what time 2 pick u up I’m going 2 come and park outside ur house.

He grinned as his phone pinged not five minutes later: come by at 1 tmrw. u suk.

Cassian grinned. ;) See u at 1.

At exactly one o’clock, Cassian pulled up in front of the apartment complex. I’m here, he texted.

cant be. all i see is the ugliest ass truck iv ever seen.

Cassian decided, in lieu of texting back, to lay on the horn.

Almost immediately, the door flew open, and Lucien practically fell down the stairs in his rush to get to the truck. Before he got in, he went over to the driver’s side and pounded on the roof. “Cut it out, you ass.”

Cassian released the horn and rolled down the window. “Happy to see me?”

“Shut up,” Lucien grumbled. He went around to the passenger side, wrenched open the door, and flung himself into the seat.

“So, where are we going?” Cassian asked, starting up the truck.

“Just start driving. I’ll tell you where to turn.”

“We going to a strip club, Lu? Because I gotta say, I’m all out of singles,” Cassian said, glancing over with a grin. “Also, put your seatbelt on.”

“You’re not my mom.”

“Yeah, but I’m driving, and I’m not moving until your seatbelt is on.”

“God, Cass.” But Lucien buckled himself in. “There. Happy?”

“Yep,” Cassian said cheerfully.

“Take a right at the first light.” Lucien settled back into the seat, staring out the side window.

“Gotcha.” Cassian tapped the steering wheel lightly. “So. You were up early today.”

“So were you.”

“Yeah, but I’m up early every day.” Now that Lucien was sitting next to him, Cassian could see that the other man looked paler than he had before, his golden-brown skin pasty, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Lucien muttered.

“Well, as I said, I’m always up early, so… if you ever need someone to talk to…” Cassian ventured. “I teach a class at six, so I’m usually up at four-thirty or five.”

“Take a right on Aspen,” Lucien said. “Then get on the freeway going east. You don’t want to talk to me at five in the morning, trust me.”

Cassian turned onto the on-ramp. “Pssh. All I do from when I get up until the class is shower and drink a smoothie.”

“A smoothie.” Lucien’s voice dripped with incredulity and sarcasm.

“Hey, what do you have against smoothies?”

“Nothing. I love smoothies. I just thought you’d be the guy that eats, like, a pound of bacon a day.” He leaned over and ran a finger down Cassian’s forearm. “I wouldn’t think you get like this from smoothies.”

Cassian’s face warmed. “I usually grab breakfast at the café on 15th,” he said. “That’s where the bacon comes in.”

“Never been.” Lucien turned back to the window.

“Great hashbrowns, fresh orange juice. Coffee so strong it’ll take the roof off your mouth. You should come sometime – I know Rhys’s coffee is shit.”

Lucien snorted. “Yeah, tasted it once, never again. I think he and Feyre get Starbucks most days. Must be nice.”

Cassian glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

“To have the money to get a five-dollar latte every morning,” Lucien said, a bitter note in his voice.

“Yeah…” Cassian let out a brief breath. “I get you there.”

“You’re going to want to take Exit 285,” Lucien said. Then, unbidden, “I don’t have a fucking penny.”

Cassian didn’t respond. There was that tension to Lucien again that told him not to ask questions.

“Not a fucking one.” Lucien leaned over further and laid his cheek against the window. “Tamlin always just paid for everything… if Feyre and Rhysand decide they don’t want me living with them anymore, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Shit, man,” Cassian said. Lucien’s voice had gone very soft again. “You can always crash at my place.”

“Thanks,” Lucien said. “I just… God. I hate him.”

“Tamlin?” Cassian asked.

Lucien didn’t respond. “Here,” he said. “Exit here…”

Cassian shifted gears as he headed in the direction Lucien indicated. He waited for Lucien to resume, but he didn’t, just continued giving directions.

“We’re here.”

Cassian looked at the sign: St. Joseph Medical Center. Then he looked at Lucien. The other man’s back was hunched, and he was steadfastly not looking at Cassian. Or getting out of the car.

“Lu?” Cassian asked quietly.

“I come here for therapy three times a week,” Lucien said after a moment.

“Depression?”

Lucien nodded, eyes still downcast. “And PTSD.”

Cassian nodded as well. “Want me to walk you in?”

“No, I… I’m good.”

“How long? I can stay here.”

“About half an hour. You sure?”

“Totally.” He opened the glove compartment and pulled out a paperback. “I keep trashy novels in here for exactly this kind of situation.”

“All right. If you’re sure.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure. Get your skinny ass out of the car,” Cassian said with a grin.

A smile ghosted over Lucien’s face. “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll… be back soon.” He slipped out of the truck.

Cassian watched until the clinic doors shut behind him.

“So. How’d it go?” Cassian closed his book and tossed it into the backseat.

“Fine.”

Cassian waited, but that was all Lucien said. “You sure?”

He closed his eyes. “Yeah.”

Cassian started the truck. “Seatbelt,” he said. “I’m taking you to that café.”

Lucien buckled in without opening his eyes. “I’m not hungry.”

“Well, I am, and my next class doesn’t start for an hour,” Cassian said, pulling out of the parking lot. “Also… feel free to tell me to fuck off, but are there any triggers I should know about?”

Lucien let out a soft sigh. “Yelling. Things… breaking.”

Cassian’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Anything else?” he said. “Or… anything that helps when…” He trailed off.

“Talking softly helps,” Lucien said. “Um…” He almost seemed embarrassed. “Don’t… don’t touch my face unless I say so, but the backs of my hands are okay.”

“I’ll remember that,” Cassian said.

Neither of them said another word until Cassian pulled into the café parking lot.

He opened the truck door, then paused. “You don’t have to come in,” he said. “If you don’t want to.”

“What, and miss seeing whether this place lives up to your hype? Not a chance,” Lucien said.

“I’m buying you a cup of coffee, then. Since I insisted on dragging you here.”

Lucien hesitated for a second, discomfort written on his face, then nodded. “I’d like that, actually,” he said.

“I bet a drink would help more, but two is a little early for alcohol, so coffee will have to do,” Cassian said.

“I owe you,” Lucien said. “First you drive me across town, and now –”

“Hey.” Cassian interrupted, putting a hand on his arm. “You don’t owe me anything. Friends can do favors for each other. No debts, no bargains. Okay?”

“I thought we weren’t friends.” But Cassian could hear something fragile in Lucien’s voice under the veneer of snark.

“Too bad,” Cassian said bracingly, swinging out of the truck. “Apparently we are now.”

“God.” Lucien dropped to the ground. “You’re so…”

“Charming? Annoying? Awe-inspiring? Sexy?”

Lucien flushed. “…nice.”

Cassian felt a lurching in the pit of his stomach. The fact that Lucien felt a need to comment on that, when all Cassian was doing was driving him to an appointment and paying a dollar fifty for a cup of coffee… “That’s me,” he said. “Nice. Rhys might say nauseatingly so.”

“I don’t blame him there.” Lucien followed him into the café, looking around with a raised eyebrow. “Nice place.”

“I know you’re being sarcastic, and I don’t care,” Cassian said, sliding into a booth by the window. “Hey, Janine.”

“Hey, Cassian.” The waitress who’d headed over as soon as they walked in the door set two cups on the table and filled them with coffee. “The usual?”

“Yep. How’s the sourdough today?”

“Even if I said it was moldy, you would still order it,” Janine accused.

“Called out,” Cassian admitted. “Take it easy on the toaster this time. My friend here has a sensitive palate.”

“You got it.” The waitress winked at him, then headed back to the kitchen.

“Cream and sugar?” Cassian asked Lucien.

“I told you I wasn’t hungry,” Lucien said grumpily. “…Just sugar.”

Cassian stirred a spoonful of sugar into Lucien’s coffee and pushed it across the table. “I know. They burn my toast every time. I thought maybe that would get them not to.”

Lucien studied his surroundings. “My eyes are bleeding. I’ve never seen so much linoleum and blue-and-white check in my life. How do you stand it?”

“Are you kidding? This place is the best. All the fun of the fifties without the racism.” Cassian grinned as he dumped half the jug of cream into his coffee.

“Good thing. Neither of us would be allowed to be here in the fifties.”

Cassian lifted his eyebrows. “I bet you could get in, with all that pretty hair. And then you could sneak me in.”

Lucien looked Cassian over from head to foot, slowly enough that Cassian took a hasty gulp of his coffee. “Sneak you in. Sure. Sounds doable. It’s not like you stand out or anything, after all.”

“Okay, yeah, that probably wouldn’t work,” Cassian agreed. “So let’s just enjoy the fact that you don’t have to smuggle me in under your coat like a watch dealer.”

Lucien choked on his coffee. “A what?”

“You know, when the guy opens his coat, and he’s like, ‘hey, buddy, wanna buy a watch?’”

“Cassian?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I know I am, but what are you? Thanks, Janine,” Cassian added as the waitress slid a plate in front of him.

“You want a warmup, hon?” Janine asked Lucien, tapping her coffeepot.

“Oh – thank you,” Lucien said, letting her refill his cup.

“’Course. Any friend of Cassian’s is a friend of mine,” she said with a wink.

“We’re not friends,” Lucien said weakly as Janine walked away.

“Don’t mind her,” Cassian said, digging into his food with almost indecent enthusiasm. “She means well.”

“I don’t,” Lucien said, and he shifted slightly in his chair. “Mind her, that is.”

Cassian followed Lucien’s gaze to his plate. “You sure you don’t want any?” he asked.

“Well… I wouldn’t say no to a piece of that toast,” Lucien said, biting his lip. “And a few of the mushrooms, maybe.”

A smile blossomed on Cassian’s face in spite of himself. “Here – give me your saucer.” He took the dish and piled it high with mushrooms, balancing a piece of toast on top. “There might be some residual bacon grease – hope you don’t mind.”

“Not really. It’s just meat itself I don’t like.” Lucien pulled the plate back towards him.

“Can’t say I relate, but okay,” Cassian said, licking his fork clean. “You can have an egg, too, if you want. I have three.”

“Ugh. Fine,” Lucien said. “But I’m using my own fork after what you’ve done to that one.”

“What – this?” Cassian licked the fork again, more slowly.

Color rose sharply in Lucien’s cheeks. “Ass,” he said, stabbing one of Cassian’s eggs and transferring it to his saucer.

“I should start a swear jar,” Cassian said. “That’s at least the third time you’ve said that today alone.”

“Only if I can start a filthy innuendo jar,” Lucien snapped, spearing a mushroom with unwonted venom.

“I bet I can fill my jar before you do,” Cassian challenged.

Lucien groaned. “Not another bet. Rhys said that if I spent any more of the allowance he’s giving me on, quote, ‘idiotic bets with my idiotic brother,’ he’d cut it off.” It was clearly a joke – Cassian knew that – and yet…

“It really bothers you, doesn’t it?” Cassian said quietly. “That you have to rely on them like that.”

Lucien concentrated on cutting a mushroom into halves, then quarters, then eighths. “They’re being so generous to me. More than I deserve, that’s for sure, after the shit I let Tamlin do to Feyre. But sometimes…” Cassian sat quietly, letting him gather his thoughts. “Sometimes, it just feels like a transfer of prisons. I don’t have to worry about –” He cut off. “– about a lot of things anymore, but my life still… isn’t my own.”

Cassian nodded. “How so?” he asked quietly.

Lucien set his fork and knife down with a soft clink. “I have to rely on them for everything. I have no car, no money, no job. No… nothing.”

Cassian heard in that I am nothing, and his heart twisted.

He’d been right, the other day, about two things: first, that it was indeed like Lucien was Feyre’s and Rhys’s child, or at least that they thought of him that way. And second…

Lucien didn’t just look like he should be stuck in a tower. He was.

“What would you need?”

“What?” Lucien looked up, and his good eye was dull, the russet-brown of the iris hooded in shadow.

“What would you need to feel like your life was your own?”

Lucien stared at him for a second, then blinked. “I… don’t know.”

“I think you do,” Cassian said quietly. Challenging him – pushing him just enough. At least, that’s what he hoped.

Lucien took a small bite of the food before him, chewing mechanically. “I guess the first thing would be to have a job,” he said at length. “An income. And… maybe a bank account of my own.”

Cassian felt hot anger roil in his stomach for the first time (though somehow he doubted it would be the last), along with the thought that he wanted to kill Tamlin. But he pushed it aside. That wasn’t important right now. “And you think that would help?”

“…Yeah. I think it might,” Lucien said softly.

“Then I’ll help you find a job,” Cassian said. Then he grinned. “In fact, I already have an idea…”

#acomaf #acomaf fanfiction #lucien #cassian #lucien x cassian #mine #fic

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giraffles · 7 years

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Fill Your Veins With Gushing Gold

so the royal au is something spawned with my rad rp tumblr fam, and I've been meaning to write stuff for it for like 5ever. I owed Star a little thing as a thank u for commissioning my bae, so this happened and then spiraled out of control. :'D will there be more in this verse?? probably, because I have a Problem.

ANYWAY, have some saiyan OCs being in lesbians with each other. C:

Fill Your Veins With Gushing Gold (Wakamei/Cassava)

Slow down, it's a science She's been waiting to bring you down

Cassava is the head of the Royal Science Division. She has no need for attachments, emotional or otherwise, but she should know by now that life has a way of surprising those who study it.

you can also read it here on AO3!

"Cass," Noria's voice held a hint of nervousness, "Are you sure this was a good idea?" It's not like the Speaker to be nervous. Noria is the epitome of grace and poise, duty and honor, bloody knuckles and hymns to the moon. Noria can be relentless, obnoxious, needlessly prying; but she doesn't do nervous. Cassava frowns at her, filing away this information for later with a flick of her tail. "It's an excellent idea," Cass counters, "They're native, they're in abundance, and they're powerful. Why shouldn't I use them?" Noria sighs. "They're sand worms." "Yes, sand worms," She returns to her tablet, organizing data streams and ignoring the look the other saiyan is giving her, "Genetically engineered to do my bidding." It makes perfect sense. The giant, desert dwelling creatures were a plague on their planet, carnivorous and venomous and dangerous. It was rare in their modern time for anyone to be eaten by one, unless the saiyan in question was exceedingly stupid, but they could still do damage to the young or untrained. In the wild, the sand worms were nothing more than untamed beasts; in her hands, as a product of her mind, they could instead be a great weapon. Cass personally had little need for field work or combat, so she found alternate ways to be useful. Even when she was young, she was putting their greatest minds to shame with her intelligence and ingenuity. The entirety of the royal palace's science department had been placed under her direction years ago. So, was it not her place to decided what to do with it? Noria is quiet. Cass continues to fiddle with numbers and outputs. Behind a clear polymer barrier, an enhanced sand worm thrashes about. "The king isn't going to like this." Noria says finally. "I don't care." "Of course you don't," She laughs, "But maybe you need a new hobby." "I'm perfectly fine with my hobbies and lack thereof, thank you." Cass bristles, because she knows where this conversation is heading. They've had it too many times before, and Noria is nothing if tenacious. There is no way in Vegeta-sei's twin suns that she is going to take a mate. "You should find a mate." Noria suggests anyway. "No." "I can introduce you to some nice boys," Noria steamrolls on, "Or a nice girl or five. Or even--" "For the last goddess damn time, no!" "Don't be like that." "I'll be however I want to be," Cass snarls, "And I could do without your meddling in my life." She could tell Noria to get the hell out of her lab. Noria might even listen, though it would only be a matter of time before she returned to hassle her. The Speaker is never far from the palace, when not attending to religious duties at least, and she makes a point to insert herself into Cass' space. There is no escaping her. So Cass growls and stomps over to a different table where DNA samples are cooking away in various stages of experiments. Noria follows. "I think you would like my daughter," Noria leans against the edge of the counter, and if Cass was a fighter maybe she could have thought about throwing her across the room, "You would balance each other well." "Noria," Cass grinds the words between her teeth, "Get the fuck out."

The tests are going well. Of course they are, this is her project, her metaphorical child-- it's perfect in every way. Cass doesn't make mistakes. There are setbacks, petty grievances at the limitations of science, even a few learning experiences. But there are no mistakes. Though she does find that there aren't many volunteers who want to help with the combat data. The saiyans are are warrior race, and yet she's surrounded by cowards. It's the one thing she can't do herself. There could be an argument made for how many ways Cassava is unsaiyan herself. The war drums that pound in the blood of so many others are silent for her. Raising her own fists in violence does nothing for her, and truth be told, she has little head for battle. Strategy does not interest her beyond what she can dream up to augment their fighting forces. Hell, she's never felt the drive to find a mate (or two, or three, like some do) and settle into a domestic life. Such things are wastes of time; they make no sense to her, and there is no reason she has to participate. No, she'd much rather be here, in a windowless lab, surrounded by logic and wonders of her own design. Here things made sense, or if they didn't, she knew it was only a matter of time before she unraveled their secrets. There are no distractions today. Noria has abstained from bothering her, and her assistants have long since fled the premises for activities like food and sleep. But Cass can't stop now, not when she's so close, it will only take a little longer, a few more tests-- Someone hesitantly knocks on the door. Cass can't imagine who it might be. Most know better than to disturb her, or like Noria, don't care and will come in unannounced. Yet this person does not. The gentle knocking comes again. "What?" She snaps, "I'm busy." The door slides open, and a saiyan she's never seen before peeks around the edge. She's of average height, round faced and certainly no older than Cass herself. She's not apart of the royal guard, as she wears no uniform or insignia, or even anything else that would identify their profession. Few scars can be seen, and she does not dress conservatively, although few do, and it's the height of summer. Cass can't help thinking that she's seen those eyes before. They must be lost. "Well?" "I was sent to check on you," for all her timid actions the stranger smiles easily, "And make sure you weren't 'working yourself half to death', as mother put it." The pieces fall into place rather neatly after that. Of course Cass knows those eyes; the subtle shade of deep emerald, the way they look innocent while plotting a galactic downfall, it's all too familiar. "You're Noria's." Cass was going to have to murder her. There had to be some way of taking her out and making it look like an accident. Though the statement was spat like poison, the newcomer is unfazed. She waits in the doorway, tail swishing, posture relaxed. "What are you working on?" "Nothing that concerns you." She snorts. "Well, obviously, but I was curious." Cass doesn't want anything to do with her, especially if she's the spawn of Noria, but something in the way she talks gives her pause. She hasn't had anyone to yell at in hours, and the dead ends Cass keeps hitting are starting to grate on her. And, maybe, she can actually scare this one off so that they'll never come back. "Fine. Get over here." The saiyan's eyes light up and Cass swears she bounces as she moves, bells and burnished metal on her clothes chiming in the silence of the lab. She is taller than Cass, but not by much, and this close she can tell she's at a fighter in some context. Latent power thrums through the body standing so near to her, putting Cass' measly power level to shame. But that is all irrelevant, because she has work to focus on. Cass expects her to grow tired or bored with the explanations of splitting proteins and recoding biological data, but she listens with rapt attention. She's sure most of the information goes over the saiayn's head, but she's interested and listening, which is more than Cass can say for some people. She asks questions, and the scientist does her best to elaborate, though she's never been one for pretty words or working metaphors. Cass tries to find the right way to frame a particular concept and swears up a storm when she can't; the stranger laughs. And it's something bright and new, giving her pause as the sound illuminates the dim room. "What's your name, anyway?" She asks, realizing Noria was remiss in mentioning it. Or maybe she had and Cass had ignored her. "It's Wakamei," the saiyan in gold and green answers, "But Waka is fine too." "Wakamei," the syllables lay heavy on her tongue in a way no others have, "Give your mother a message for me; tell her to fuck off." The last ditch effort to scare her away fails as Wakamei only laughs again.

Wakamei becomes a steady presence in her life, her protests and reservations about it being pushed aside until they fade into the void. There is something endearing in her determination, in her casual visits and easy conversation. She is not deterred by Cass' bad moods, ferries food to her on late nights, and sometimes brings strange samples from her adventures past the city gates. Wakamei annoys Cass far less than most of the people on this goddess forsaken planet, and that is saying a lot. She refuses to talk with Noria on the matter. She also refuses to even begin to think about what this might mean. It's a concept too alien and terrifying to consider, on top of the fact she's absolutely abysmal at reading people and their emotions. She wasn't made for this; her place is dark corridors and organized logbooks, not the battlefield of feelings and desires. Cass can feel herself teetering on the edge of the abyss, so close to topping over the point of no return. She puts all those stray feelings in little black boxes and packs them away, putting them up on a shelf far away from her conscious habits, to be unraveled at a later date. Or maybe never. Never was sounding better and better. It's on a night with only a sliver of a moon in the sky that everything goes wrong. Cass is outside, for once. Sometimes even she becomes claustrophobic in her workspace and seeks out the open air. The sky is dark, something that happens only briefly on their planet caught in a binary sun system, and not even the city lights can drown out the stars. The air is still, the sounds of civilization fading into the background, and Cass chooses to think about something other than work or intrusive women, like who the hell named all of the constellations anyway. Assigning shapes and meanings to points of light, ones that will change from planet to planet, is so nonsensical. That doesn't even look like a water jug, or a hill cat, or anything else that's more than abstract. But she supposes she understands the fascination with them. After all, it's where her race comes from, and where they travel to so often. They are apart of an intergalactic community now, and considering the saiyan's mysterious origins, most likely always were. (No, they still hadn't figured out where the ships carrying their ancestors had come from, all those centuries before. There are few records of their arrival, and even fewer accounts of what happened to the ships in question. And then they had other things to worry about between the Tuffles and Arcosians.) There is also something deeply soothing in counting stars, even though she's soon to lose track of where she is and that naming each by sight alone is impossible. It helps to clear her head. At least, it usually did. Which is why she didn't notice the commotion coming from the royal palace until someone came to collect her. "What do you mean it escaped?" Cass growls, trying to keep the alarm out of her voice. Her terrified assistant repeats again that yes, one of her beloved pets has somehow gotten out of its pen and is currently attempting to burrow through the walls of the palace. This is impossible; she designed the containment units herself, and the worms should be docile until called upon. A failure on this level is unfathomable. Against her assistant's protests, she storms down to the lab. Cass has to pick her way around the rubble, and she grows more furious by the moment, though who exactly her anger is directed at is undetermined. Herself, maybe, for making a fatal error somewhere along the way. Or, some idiot of a science tech who hadn't followed her instructions and had released the worm unintentionally. If they weren't already dead, she was going to kill them. Slowly. Feed them to the sand worms, maybe. She comes across the creature in question, heaving and flailing as it knocks away anyone who tries to subdue it. It's a precarious situation, because the royal guards can't go all out without the threat of taking down the whole structure. And that would certainly not sit well with the king. So Cass walks up to the worm, brushing off those who try to stop her, and stands before it with arms crossed. "Down," She commands, staring down into it's ringed maw of teeth that swirl and snap, "Stop this at once." The sand worm does no such thing. Which is unthinkable, because she has programmed them on the genetic level to listen to her whims. And yet the world slows to a crawl as it lunges at her, making to devour her unprotected form while she grapples with the impossible scenario before her. Something-- Someone?-- slams into Cass, knocking them both prone, though there is still the sent of blood in the air and a cry of pain that rings in her ears. Everything goes dull, her senses and perception of time, narrowing down to the arms wrapped around her that pull her away from the rampaging beast. Adrenaline and disbelief keep her world distorted for long moments, disorienting and causing long lost fear to bubble up. Cass clings to her savior for dear life. "Cass," a voice chokes out, "Cassava, are you alright?" Reality comes back to her kicking and screaming. It's all too fast and too loud, as she becomes hyper aware all at once, and it's more than a little overwhelming. She can't find her tongue nor the words to say anything. "Cass?" Wakamei says again, those soft eyes filled with worry, which presses strange sensations into the marrow of Cass' bones, "Please, say something." "Fine," She trembles, "I'm fine." Which is more than she can say for Wakamei, whose shoulder is torn open and spilling dark blood. Combined with the acidic venom of the sand worm, she should really have that treated sooner rather than later. It will burn and scar, and fill her body with poison if left unchecked. Wakamei seems heedless to the damage she's taken, instead looking at Cass as though she's the only thing that matters. And that's not right, because no one looks at her like that. She didn't have worth until she stepped up and carved out a place for herself, graduating from a sullen child with no friends to a surly adult who insisted she didn't need any. Wakamei has put herself in harms way for her, and Cass can't stop the swirling emotions that are clawing their way out of her chest. Wakamei goes to say something, but doesn't have even a moment to breathe before Cass is kissing her. It's desperate and stumbling because Cass has never practiced, never had that want or need before now, though she does her damnedest to perform on the spot. There's no other way she can think to express herself in the moment, and oh, is it wonderful in a way she hadn't realized it could be. It's heat and madness pumping through her veins, kicking the pounding of her heart into overdrive, and the feeling is so addicting even though she fears it will tear her apart. The dying screams of the sand worm are the only thing that distract her. "Oh." Is the only thing Wakamei says after a long pause. At first Cass thinks she's misstepped, but there's that blinding smile, the one that illuminates the edges of her ribcage. She's fallen so hard it's a wonder she hasn't bruised her soul before now. Any elation at the moment falters quickly when she hears a familiar aggressive voice breaking through the chaos. "What the hell," begins the king, "Is all of this?" Cass considers for a moment giving a deadpan and obvious reply, but someone else beats her to it. Which is fine, because she isn't sure if she can trust her voice at the moment, and besides, she has to think of a way to do damage control. She doesn't have much of a plan together before the king and his two hulking attendants are in front of them. Cass can't help but wonder if they do it on purpose, finding the biggest saiyans they can to flank their ruler, who's only a scant few inches shorter than she is. Which maybe lures foreign diplomats into thinking he's not as dangerously destructive as he is. Whatever the case is, it takes all the control her addled mind has left not to laugh. "Cassava," Vegeta eyes her dubiously, "What the fuck." She really has no explanation that will satisfy him.

"But that was months of work!" "I told you he wouldn't be happy," Noria chides as Cass mourns the deaths of the rest of the sand worms, "He really hates those things." "I don't care!" She cries, bordering on a wail, "I put so much into that project!" Noria pats her arm sympathetically, but she shakes it off. It's ruined. All ruined, and she still doesn't understand what went wrong in the first place. Cass let's out a frustrated sound. "It'll be okay, Cass. You have lots of other things you can work on--" "But that's not the point!" "Cass, please. It's not the end of the world." She sits on a broken piece of wall, head in her hands. "You just don't understand." "Maybe I don't," Noria agrees, "But you should at least come see Waka with me. I'm sure they're done patching her up by now." Cass' heart twists, and she expects Noria to tease her when she agrees to come along. But she doesn't. In fact, Noria abandons her when they reach the medical wing, leaving her alone with the person she spontaneously made out with not hours beforehand. Cass still wants to kill Noria, but perhaps she will stay her hand for her daughter's benefit. "So," She begins awkwardly, "How... are you?" "It's just a scratch." Wakamei insists, though her entire upper arm and chest are bound tight. Something about that sight makes Cass sick to her stomach. "I'll have a cool scar when it's healed." "You're an idiot," Cass tells her, but moves to her side, "And I don't know why I like you." But that would be a mystery to be unraveled another day, when her her nerves weren't burnt out and her mind wasn't fraying at the seams. For now, she will offer what little things she can. Hopefully that will be enough. Wakamei hums and laces their fingers together. This can be enough.

#dbz #Dragon Ball Z #dbz fanfiction #au fanfiction #ao3fic #original characters #ocs #seaweed saiyans #wakamei/cassava #giraffles #long live the king

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coureirsix · 7 years

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More Thoughts About My Boy

HE LOVES VERONICA!!!

not in the romantic sense but like just, like who she is?? u kno?? ESP after the sierra madre thing with christine. he’s not exactly the brightest of the bunch so it took him a while to realize christine /was/ veronica’s gf and he just loses his mind and wants to take her back immediately to see if they can catch christine and veronica’s like wtf stop.

they do end up going after a while after he tells her everything he knows but alas christine is long gone from the sierra madre. veronica is also the only person who knows firsthand about jax’s terrible fear of ghost people.like they go and he just. cannot stand still. they go back down into the sierra madre, and he’s just. suuuper antsty and they do come across a single ghost person and jax just, blacks out. thankfully veronica isn’t afraid of no ghost and she punched that fool’s dick off.

and she does get a little concerned like dude are u ok but he keeps going.

Do It For Her you know??

and like outside of the whole thing like meeting her?? after she agreed to go along with him they encountered a radscorpion and she just??? punched it in the tail???? if there was such thing as platonic love at first sight?? it’s that>???

like he was so much more invested in her whole ordeal with the brotherhood than with his own shit about finding benny.

he also calls her ‘vero’ so she calls him by his full name as retaliation.

AND CASS!!!!!

he’s also super fond of cass. and that’s mainly cause they have this really nice ‘we should probably bang like right now’ sense that is actually kind of freaky if you really think about it.

but cass is like his best friend in the end. she’s super chill to talk to at any time and she gets a lot of the shit that he talks to her about. the majority of this is done post-sex but u kno. when it’s a serious thing he’ll actually call her ‘rose’ as opposed to ‘cass.’

he’s also pretty adamant about finding her a proper gf or a bf cause he knows he probably doesnt deserve someone as amazing as her. and she’s always down to hear his picks cause his taste in people is drastically different from her own so it’s always a fun time.

she knows about all his insecurities and she’s told him about her own life too. she doesn’t know the full extent of the nightmares/hallucinations of the ghost people but she’s the one he goes to when they happen. he’s also the first person she wants to get drunk with.

they got into the tops once and drank so much they ended up playing caravan outside the casino for like 3 hours cause they got kicked out at 4 pm.

at the lucky 38 cass is floor manager and she and boone double for security.

#jay.exe #i love.... my oc....#**jax

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4lpha-w0lf69 · 4 years

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1. Last beverage: canada dry?

2. Last phone call: my mama :]]

3. Last song you listened to: Fat lip - sum41

4. Last time you cried: I’m not a wuss :/

5. Have you dated someone twice: No...

6. Have you ever been cheated on: Uh, no?

7. Kissed someone & regretted it: That fucking cat...

8. Have you lost someone special: My cat Mr.Whiskers :[

9. What are your three favorite colors: Red, Brown, Black

10. Met someone who changed you in the past month: Deon!

11. Kissed anyone on your friends list: >_>

12. How many kids do you want: A pack!!

13. Do you want any pets: Wish I had a dog

14. Do you want to change your name: Hunter is the best name and Bacon is the best nickname! How could u emprove?

15. What did you do for your last birthday: Spent it at mom&dad’s with Nora!! I also had some of the guys from the team hangin’ out.

16. What time did you wake up today: 5:45 am, bright eyed and bushy tailed :]

17. Name something you CANNOT wait for: School to fucking end.

18. Last time you saw your mother: Over the weekend-

19. Most visited webpage: This one

20. Nicknames: Bacon, Coolest dude around ;]

21. Relationship status: Single.

22. Zodiac sign: Aries

23. Male or female: Alpha Male!

24. Height: 6′3 and growing.

25. Do you have a crush on someone: :’]]]]

26. Piercings: 2 per ear, my nose, my tongue. Plan on getting .... :]

27. Tattoos: None yet!

28. Strong or Weak: The strongest around!

FIRSTS 29. First surgery: Eh, I’ve never had a surgery

30. First best friend: Eggs! He still is, but also Deon is too now :]

31. First sport you joined: Football.

32. First vacation: The family cabin up north!

33. First school: Clarence-Rockwell Elementary,

34. First pair of trainers: Converse

WHICH IS BETTER 35. Lips or eyes: Eyes. I have a thing for pretty n cool eyes :]]

36. Hugs or kisses: Cuddles???

37. Shorter or taller: Not taller than me!

38. Older or younger: Older

39. Romantic or spontaneous: Romantic? But I’m p spontaneous :]

40. Sensitive or loud: wtf does this even mean lol?

41. Hook-up or relationship: Hookin’ up is fun, but i’d be down for somethin’ more :]

42. Shy or outgoing: Outgoing

HAVE YOU EVER 43. Kissed a stranger: No.

44. Gotten a speeding ticket: On the highway once-

45. Lost glasses/contacts: Don’t need em.

46. Sex on first date: hahahahaha

47. Broken someone's heart: I dunno?

48. Been arrested: No

49. Have you turned someone down: Yes

50. Fallen for a friend: I am not 100% sure yet. :{

51. Moved out of town: Not out of town, but into a forest :]

BELIEVE IN 52. Miracles: No that shit bogus.

53. Love at first sight: I do :]

54. Heaven: No

55. Santa Claus: No. How the fuck would he fit in a chimney? And that is a LOT of cookies for one man to consume in one night. He’d be too heavy for the sleigh even w the reindeer pushing it. Plus I know for a fact that santa has the same hand writing as my mom. >:/

56. Kiss on the first date: Yes

57. Angels: Like the team? 58. Yourself: I’m the best footbal player & alpha in town!

ANSWER TRUTHFULLY 59. Had more than 1 girlfriend/boyfriend at a time: No I’m loyal like a woooolf

60. Been in love with someone you couldn't be with?: damn.

61. Ever cheated on somebody: No

62. If you could go back in time, how far would you go?: Oh to be a little guy runnin’ around without having to worry about shit like paying for his car, wifi, and when the next full moon is gonna come....

63. Are you afraid of falling in love: Nahw

64. Was your last relationship a mistake? I think that people do things for a reason, and even if you move on... It isn’t a mistake. It happened that way for a reason, and you probably learnt something from it.

65. Do you miss your last relationship? No

66. Who did you last say “i love you” to? Nora

67. Have you ever been depressed? Haha nights at the cabin is rough :’]

68. Are you insecure? I think i’m pretty confident?

69. How do you want to die? Something really epic like a brawl to the death protecting someone I care about.

70. Do you bite your nails? No 71. When was your last physical fight? Oh! At school the other day I got into a fight w someone in the change room for saying i’m hairier than big foot. FIrst off i’m only a size 13, and secondly IM NOT THAT BAD-

72. Do you have an attitude? The school counselor, principal and coach all seem to think so.

73. Twirl or cut your spaghetti? SUCK IT ALL UP IN ONE BIG BITE

74. Do you tan a lot? I naturally have one.

75. Ever eaten food in a car while someone or you are driving? Yeah, I hit up mcdicks or BK and grab a bite and eat it on the road all the time. Maybe i should clean out the back of ol’ sandy-

76. Ever made out in a bathroom? hhahaha :]

77. Would you take any of your exes back? Why?

78. Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? I don’t feel any actual need to.

79. What are your plans for this weekend? Hopfully a party with lots of liquor!

80. Do you type fast? I have big hands so that is kinda hard.....

81. Can you spell well? yeah of caurse i can!

82: What are you craving right now? Deer steak

83. Have you ever been on a horse? No

84. Would you live with someone without marrying them? Yeah why not???

85. What’s irritating you right now? A white haired little bitch-

86. Have you ever liked someone so much that it hurts? yah. :{

87. Does somebody love you? My family does. Especially my lil sis Nora!!

88. Have you ever changed clothes in a car? I’ve had to-

89. Milk chocolate or white chocolate? Milk chocolate all the way

90. Do you have trust issues? Nope!

91. Longest relationship? Haha;;;;

92: Do you believe your most recent ex thinks about you? :]

93. Have you ever walked outside in your PJs? By accident yeah. Good thing I live in a forest alone. Cause my PJs are often just me being naked.

94. Do you believe everything happens for a reason? Yeah kinda?

95. Did you have dream last night? Yeah! I sometimes have really epic ones

96. Have you ever been out of state? Sure

97. Do you play the Wii? I have a DS for pokemon and animal crossing.

98. Do you like Chinese food? Yeah it’s p good. Who gave em the right?

99. Are you afraid of the dark? That’s when I thrive! 100. Is cheating ever okay? No.

101. What year has been your best? I’m hoping 2006 cause I want this to be the best : ]

102. Do you believe in true love? Yes.

103. Favorite weather? Fall, nice and brisk.

104. Do you like the snow? Yes

105. Do you like the outside? I LIVE TO BE OUTDOORS!

106. Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? Uh, Maybe :L

107. Have you ever made out for more than a half hour straight? Nope.

108. What makes you happy? Sports, Nora, My friends :] being active.....

109. Ever been to Alaska? No

110. Ever been to Hawaii? N0

111. Do you watch the news? Sometimes, but like they say all kinds of fucked up shit. Not easy to take lightly when u live alone.

112. Do you love MTV? I like MTV cribs-

113. Do you like subway? like the trains or the sandwich? Because yes.

114 Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? eh, no.

115. Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? I don’t know that I have one of those.

116. Why did you decide to do this quiz? I’m bored!!!! This cabin is lonely at night :[

117. Have you ever seen someone you knew and purposely avoided them? Yeah. Charlie &Piper....

118. Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? Just my little sis. or my cousin Cass!

119. Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? I texted Cass-

120. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with? Deon.

121. Ever bought condoms? LMao yeah.

122. Ever gotten pregnant? I’m a guy?????

123. Have you ever slipped on ice? Yeah, but we don’t talk about that. For most people it’s called a ‘tail-bone’ that gets cracked. For me it’s more like a whole tail cracking.

124 Have you ever missed the bus? No, I drive.

125. Have you left the house without money? I always have whatever is in my account from workin at the shop.

126. Have you ever smoked cigarettes? Nope! I like healthy lungs-

127. Have you ever smoked a cigar? NO.

128. Did you ever drink alcohol? Yeah, I’m always the one who has to go buying it. 129. Did you ever watch “The Breakfast Club”? The one where the dude gets the girl and fist pumps the air on the football field??? Yeah thats my fuckin’ goals!

130. Have you ever been overweight? No i”m just heavy cause muscle weighs more than fat! :[ 131. Ever been to a wedding? Yeh

132. Ever been in a wedding? don’t think so.

133. Have you ever been on the computer for 5 hours straight? Naw, not unless I’m in a intense convo w someone.

134. Did you ever watch TV for 5 hours straight? That’s TOO LONG!

135. Ever kissed in the rain? I want to....

136. Did you ever shower with someone else? Nope.

137. Did you ever fail a driver’s test? No, I’m basically a car expert

138. Ever been outside your home country? No

139. Ever been on a road trip longer than 5 hours? Yes with my family going up to the family cabin.

140. Ever been to a professional sports game? Yeah, who do u think ur talking to!?

141. Have you ever broken a bone? When I was younger I broke my arm a few times.

142. Did you ever win a trophy in your life? HELL YAH!

143. Ever get engaged? Noooo.

144. Have you ever been on a diet? I don’t need one!

145. Have you ever been on TV? When the team goes into finals-

146. Ever ridden in a taxi? Who needs to when u have a car.

147. Ever been to prom? Not yet!

148. Ever stayed up for 24 hours or more? Yeah, full moons can be rough on the bod.....

149 Have you ever been to a concert? Yes

150. Have you ever had a crush on someone at work? Ew on the old man at the shop? No thanks....

151. Have you ever been in a car accident? Kinda, I wound up in the ditch-

152. Ever had braces? No

153. Did you ever learn another language? hablo español e ingles

154. Do you wear make-up? NO???

155. Did you ever have your wisdom teeth taken out? Nope! My strong teeth all stay put!

156. Did you ever kiss someone a different race than yourself? Yes

157. Ever dyed your hair? No, but my hair did start turning grey recently...

158. Did you ever wear someone else’s clothes? They wouldn’t fit lmao.

159. Ever ridden in an ambulance? Yes, and I got to ride first class on the gurney! : ]

160. Ever ridden in a helicopter? Nope!

161. Ever caught the stove on fire? Yes, almost burnt the cabin down! Don’t tell mom!

162. Ever meet someone famous? NO :[

163. Ever been on an airplane? Yes

164. Ever been on a boat? Ye

165. Ever broken something expensive? My mom would get mad if I reminded her of this-

166. Did you ever kiss someone before you were 14? No.

167. Did you ever find something valuable on the ground? I found a dead pigeon once. I often find cool animal carcasses

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