Rosegarden Week Day 7: Free Day | Cross over AU

It’s finally come to an end for this rg week! Ending it with a redraw from Netflix’s movie “Bubble”. Super happy with all the pieces I got to share with you all, thank you for all the love and support!

It was fun making Oscar jacket and Ruby dress

Here it is, @rosegardenweek short and late, but here nonetheless

Nightmares shatter his slumber and a scream, rough and dry as sand, tears out of his throat. He could have sworn he was in the witch’s clutches, that he was being tortured and that he’d felt a dull shot of pain in his chest.

But then, as he awoke violently, he found himself back in the bed of the hotel where he’d been asleep the whole time, Ruby’s arms around him and he has no idea what to do except to hold her back.

“It was just a dream,” she said. And he suddenly wonders if he had been making enough noise for the whole floor to hear. When his breathing evens out, Ruby moves to pull away, but he only holds tighter.

another short late one @rosegardenweek enjoy

“What time is it?”

Oscar looked over to where Ruby was sitting, arms crossed, a sour look on her face. Oscar looked at his watch.

“Four fifteen,” he said.

“How long is this party supposed to last again?”

“Four hours.”

“And when did it start?”

“Forty minutes ago.”

Ruby groaned, burying her face in her hands and Oscar had to smile.

@rosegardenweek It’s late; enjoy

Pine parried the strike of the Ripper’s knife with his walking stick, the blade’s silvery glint too close to his face for comfort.

“That was nice, sweet boy,” the Ripper said, flipping to avoid his strike, “have you been practicing?”

The Ripper slid into the shadows of a nearby alleyway as Oscar gave chase, the shadows and smog making the light of the street lamps seem far away and dim.

“You’re getting closer, my sweet boy.”

The Ripper’s voice seemed to come from everywhere, but nowhere that he could see.

“Stop this,” Pine said, drawing his pistol, hoping his voice wasn’t shaking.

“Stop what?” said the Ripper, “cleaning house? Stepping on bugs? They weren’t queens; they weren’t even a deuce!”

Pine swallowed and clicked back the hammer on his revolver, forcing his legs to move forward into the alleyway, looking for the Ripper. Hoping she didn’t catch him before he caught her.

“Nobody cared for them,” the Ripper laughed, “they were just a pack of cards.”

Summer days of reading Lewis Carrol by a girl with silvery laughter and beautiful eyes flashed in his mind and he fought to keep them away. That girl was gone, if she ever existed at all. Pine wheeled towards where he thought the voice was coming from, only to see a stray cat, barely discernable in the darkness, bound away the direction Pine had come from.

“They were women,” Oscar said, steeling his nerve, “they had names. Friends. Lovers even.”

“They were whores, Inspector Pine.”

Pine’s blood boiled at the flippancy in her tone.

“Their names,” Pine said, “were Mary Ann Nichols, Annie Chapman, and Elizabeth Stride!”

“Only three,” the Ripper laughed, “I though I had more than that!”

“More?”

A laughter, rosy and girlish that could make his heart flutter in spite of his fear, echoed in the darkness.

“You’ve killed again?”

“Maybe? I know I killed a Catherine tonight, after I killed an Elizabeth. I think I killed a Martha or maybe an Emma? I might have taken someone’s kidney?”

“Tell me if you’ve committed more crimes. What have you done?”

“No.”

The word was petulant, teasing.

“This isn’t a game!” Pine shouted, “Throw yourself on the mercy of her majesty’s court and you might find leniency! You’re not in your right mind!”

“You won’t fix me just yet,” the Ripper said and Pine heard what sounded like papers being disturbed to his left. He advanced.

“Besides, I love my work and want to start again soon.”

There was a sound like metal scraping on stone to Pine’s left.

“My crescent rose's so nice and sharp I want to get to work right away if I get a chance.”

Pine backed against the wall. Even if he didn’t see the Ripper coming, they wouldn’t be able to sneak up behind him.

“You won’t get a chance.”

“Oh, you’re so adorable when you’re a little boss!”

The Ripper gave no inclination that they had heard him. Pine willed his breathing to even out, The ruckus in his chest to cease. Don’t get rattled, she’d not who you knew. She’s a killer, a cruel murderess who couldn’t possibly love anything.

The Ripper shot from the darkness, their cloak flaring like a huge pair of black wings, her arms wrapping around Pine in a vice-like grip

“Gotcha!”

Her lips were warm and wet and Pine fought the urge to melt into her kiss as he realized that she must have been wearing blood as make up.

The Ripper pulled away from him, and Pine fell to his knees, unable to stand.

“Goodbye, Dear Boss,” she said.