my_belfry_of_fun | A meme round-up.

"I'm not gonna get sick~" Esteban assured him, careless and reckless and breathless and keeping himself from staring back into his companion's eyes. There would be no end to his foolishness if he did.

So he guides them, sure-footed and graceful, the both of them. He's never asked too much about Loki's past, seeing as his friend will tell him if he wants, but he can't help but know that Loki has some training. Whether that is as a fighter or as a dancer, he cannot guess.

The rain is still falling around them; a deluge that cuts away the rest of the world. It makes it strangely private, even though they are out on the streets. Esteban shakes himself from the strange lull of his senses, grins and brightens and twirls Loki just because he can.

"What was the first thing y' remember enjoyin' on Earth?"

Always curious, always greedy. Esteban reaches out to his friend, curious to know, wanting more from him that Esteban might gather and hide away, like a precious jewel. Something he can use to cheer Loki on, whenever he might need it.

He wants to know more. Wants to know about him-- whatever Loki might give him-- so that one day, he might build something upon the little shards of knowledge that he gathers. Bit by bit.

[Gamora has seen many moons in her time. This one is different. It is bigger somehow. The light of it makes the field they are lying in glow. A late-night picnic under the stars had seemed like a silly thing when it was initially pitched to her.

Things have finally quieted down. Gamora is weary. Maybe it isn't too silly to take stock of the world around them and hope this natural beauty isn't another strange omen of things to come.]

This wasn't a terrible idea. [Gamora admits. She can't say she's having fun.]

[Sometimes one simply needed to take a break. Silly or not, distractions could be useful and Gamora had absolutely needed a distraction. Which Loki was happy to provide. Lying there on the blanket, one leg up and the other crossed at his knee, with his arms pillowing his head, Loki hmmd for a moment.]

That's hardly a winning endorsement however. What's on your mind?

[Gamora considers lying. She isn't good at it. She hardly sees the point aside from saving Loki some distress. He is old; older than her at least. He can handle the consequence of his question.] It occurred to me not that long ago that this life I lead with you, Alice and all the others is all I will ever have. I wished Thanos dead as he killed me. That will not save my life. I will never see my family again.

[She lets the words sink in.] It is a heavy burden to carry.

[Loki has faced worse, and would know if she was lying anyways. Few can actually accomplish deceiving him, really. But he's patient and lets Gamora approach this in her own way for now.]

We still don't actually know how the wishes work, or how any of it does. By all rights, based on the knowledge you've given me then I already know none of us will get our wishes. For I wished not to die, to not let that be the end. Would that I could've done Thor more good... Perhaps I could've found another way. Perhaps I should never have grabbed the tesseract and hoped that it would be destroyed as Asgard was.

[Blue-Green eyes look up at the stars. Unfamiliar stars, and an unfamiliar galaxy far away from the nine. But he still hopes that perhaps Frigga is watching him. Proud of him. Perhaps maybe Odin too, somehow.]

You found Thor, after all, but no mention of me. So am I to assume then, that our wishes mean nothing and are lies?

[He's meditative in his tone, softly voiced but not to be gentle. More out of respect for the mood.]

Do you know why I still go on, then? If the likeliest answer is that there is no 'hope'? Especially as I've never been one for sentimental nonsense. Better to let it burn.

[She listens without comment. He's not saying anything unreasonable. The fact that she came from a time technically after the wish was made isn't promising for any of them. While he is good to her, their child, and she assumes Puck, he's no more sentimental than she is. The depth of her hope began and ended with the thought that people deserved better than oblivion or the horror of surviving what Thanos planned.

Gamora takes an audible breath and admits:] That is exactly what I wish to know. You are dear to me, but I am not foolish enough to think I know your every thought.

[That honor still lies with Peter. The burden of knowing lies with Thanos.]

The streets of London are quiet. There is a sharp chill in the air, the kind that bites at your nose if you stick around for too long. It is about that time of the evening where everyone is inside their cozy flats. Only a handful of locals and tourists bundled in the thickest of coats are braving the bitter winter to head to the local tavern.

No one bothers to take a glance at the poorly lit alleyway. It was the perfect spot for The Doctor to tuck himself so he can patch himself together.

He hobbles over to the nearest rubbish bin, ripping the lid away to dig through all of its discarded contents.

“Come on…! Anything? Anything!”

Alas, it’s not there. The stress building more and more inside of his head. He scrubs his face down with a hand and pulls out a digital watch from the inside of his coat, counting down by the second:

65:01:29

There is still time, but The Doctor is already playing a dangerous game of needle in a haystack.

Legs moving faster than his head, The Doctor makes a run for it until a sharp pain strikes him from the chest.

And then he collapses, body tripping over a stack of abandoned newspapers.

"Spike? Dru's voice, as soft as it is, drifts through the night air from where she's perched on a grave stone. Call it stereotypical but Dru finds the graveyard, the smell of death and decay, quite comforting. But tonight, she's not looking down, not sniffing the wilting flowers or tracing her fingers over long forgotten names. Instead, her eyes are fixed on the skies, on the bright, twinkling stars far above the earth. She almost smiles, her face twitching into a day dream as she sways.

"Do you see them too? The pretty patterns. They're winking at us, you know?"

Spike was on the ground, laying in the grass actually. So he could look up at Dru, at the sky, just enjoying his time with her. "I see them, Poodle. What patterns do you see?" Winking huh? He didn't see them wink, but that was alright. If Dru saw them winking, then that meant they were winking.

"There's one there. A funny little line." Drusilla tilts her head back. "And a bright one."

She shudders suddenly. "They're like eyes watching us. Bright eyes, looking down on us. I don't like it, Spike. I don't like them." Her hands go to her head; she knots her fingers into her hair and pulls.

"I don't like it. I don't like it."

The shudder had him rolling to his feet. Instantly alert and attentive to her. "Shh, Pet. I've got you." Moving his hands to her own, mouth going to her hair and forehead. "You don't like it, we can go inside somewhere. If I could, I'd put out their eyes in a heartbeat for you."

Dru cuddles into him, letting her face press against Spike's side.

"Yeah, tear out their eyes. All of 'em. I don't want that monster up there looking at me no more. I want you."

She presses her palms flat against him. "I want you, Spike," she murmurs into his flesh.
"I want all of you."

Wrapping her up in his arms, Spike does his best to shield her from the sky. From the stars. "You have all of me, Pet. I'm all yours." Murmured into her hair and savoring the closeness for a bit. "I can't tear out their eyes, more's the pity, so why don't we go find somewhere we can have fun? Maybe somewhere I can tear out eyes for you."

"Take me somewhere." She trails her hands up over his torso, reaching to wrap her hands about his shoulders. She looks up, pleadingly, asking him silently, to carry her to wherever they are going. She could walk, but snuggling just a little closer to him for those minutes is something she doesn't want to miss.
Dru, once Spike has her in his arms, leans her face against his, lets her lips press to his jawline.

"You always know what to say to make me feel better. I want to see you hurt 'em. I want to see their pain. I want to touch it. I want to help."

Even like this, her touch set him on fire. Simple enough to scoop her up in his arms, hold her close. Lean into her touch and kisses. "Then help you will." There was a nightclub they could go to. Dark corners, it was almost funny in that it catered to those who wanted to be creatures of the night. Which made it a perfect hunting ground for those who were said creatures of the night.

Spike would carry her until she wanted him to stop. Sod what anyone else thought. She was his princess, his everything.

Dru lets Spike carry her until they reach the club. When she demands to be put down, and he of course complies, she hugs into him again, one arm around his waist and one on his shoulder as they queue to be let in. She giggles into his chest.

"Who shall we choose, my love? A boy or a girl? I want them to be pretty. It's more fun when they're beautiful. Their screams sound like music, like the angels crying. That's what I want. Someone beautiful to destroy." She giggles, high pitched and childish, as if she's suggesting something perfectly innocent.

His arm went around her waist in turn, keeping her close as they were in the line. Leaning his head down towards hers, ignoring the queue and line and other people. "How about both? You choose. You have a way about you, of choosing just the right people." Spike murmured, nuzzling her hair and closing his eyes. Her being with him, her darkness and shadows, her in his arms, it was all he ever wanted. Them together.

"Mmmm," she murmurs back. "I'm always right." Her tone is languid, but even as she speaks, Dru turns her head so she can scan the queue.

"Blonde or brunette?" She murmurs. "Let's get a couple - one of each. They always scream more if you threaten the one they love."
Dru giggles. "I like watching them, the play of emotions on their faces. It's like poetry, like music, when your torture makes 'em sing."

Spike smiles against her hair, nuzzling it as she murmurs about being always right. He lets her scan, but moves so his own hazel eyes scan too. "Now now, we tortured the last couple openly. This time let's try for more subtlety, hmm? Make them feel watched. Stalked. Uncomfortable." A beat, and Spike lets a smirk alight on his mouth. That arm around Drusilla's waist slipping down to her hips. "Hunted. Sound fun?"

A meme round-up.

no subject

5 - kind of game compliant

Re: 5 - kind of game compliant

no subject

no subject

no subject

[ High and Dry ]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject