Side Quests for Bux - WIP
this is unfinished and tbh no clue when i'll finish it so hence i'm not putting it on ao3 but i had a fun time eating up phighting lore for this and wanted it out :]
please forgive if there's mischaracterizations and incorrect lore things.
block tales x phighting!
Phights are fun. Phights are also rough. Phights are a massive pain in the ass regardless if a Support heals your body back into fighting shape, because one's nerves will always decide it's a wonderful idea to replay the last sensation it felt - achey, sore pain from having a subspace tripmine blown up in your face.
Rocket relishes that he at least blew up that egotistic prat. The sooty look on that pompous inphernal was truly worth the hours of excrutiating itchy poison. It's a shame Medkit wasn't working today or the annoying sensation would've been dealt with way quicker.
At least the Phighting tournaments ensures their Phighters get medical attention after each round. It's one of the only reason why Zuka is fine with Rocket going to town blowing inphernals up into a sooty, intact mess.
Also, victory pays well.
Sword, wonderful walking ball of sunshine, is in the middle of yapping Rocket's horn off about the stunt he pulled off with Skateboard during the Phight.
Had Rocket not been occupied with Subspace, he probably could've witnessed the awe-inspiring scene of Skateboard using Sword's Phinisher as a momentum boost, and the equally inspiring conclusion of Skateboard falling off his gear and landing flat on his ass. Alas, Sword's verbal description of the scene would have to do.
"It was like he was straight out of an action movie! Big explosion in the background that goes pssshaaaw! Right when the music starts playing that really catchy guitar riff-" Sword chattered, waving his arms around animatedly to reenact the memory in Sword's usual exaggerated manner.
Rocket just grunts out a noise of acknowledge, feet taking the left turn to the street where his family's shop is. He wonders what Zuka has planned for dinner today. He should probably ask his dad if he needs to buy anything from the shops before he and Sword sinks the remaining daylight hours into videogames until the latter's curfew comes around.
That idea is swiftly thrown out the window when the inphernal manning the counter is not his beloved one-armed father.
"Who's that?" Sword echoes his thought with two easy words, but none of the wariness and suspicious that is filling Rocket's head.
"Dunno." Rocket frowned suspiciously, fingers twitching to summon his gear.
He's not usually this trigger happy, but there is a complete stranger who is standing in his dad's spot in his dad's shop in the hour his dad would usually be. Also, surely Zuka would tell him if there was going to be some random inphernal working in the shop, or at least even bring up the idea of hiring someone else to Rocket at some point. Past experiences usually indicates that an unmentioned change in routine means something bad and likely painful for Rocket.
Rocket turns to his friend with all the seriousness he can muster, "Get ready to back me up."
"Back you up?" Sword parrots, a little lost but he catches on quick once he sees how unnerved Rocket is about the stranger. His face twists into worry as the gears starts clicking in his head, "Oh. Oh no, do you think something happened to Zuka?"
Good ol' Sword and his habit of catastrophizing. Both a curse and blessing (especially when Sword gets an intrusive thought at 3AM in the morning and decides to make it Rocket's problem too) but in this case it would be a blessing. It means that Rocket's concern is entirely validated and has at least one basis that isn't just 'classic Rocket hate'.
"Doubt it. Dad's tough. But he would've told me if there's a new worker in the shop."
The inphernal gazes at them indifferently as the two Phighters approach. It gives Rocket a closer look of them, and his first honest opinion of them is that they look like a wimp. An easy target if they were in the Playground, and not the Crossroads.
"Hi! Who're you?" Sword is the first to initiate conversation with a smile that channels the sun.
It's a lethal weapon that induces either strong hostility or heart attack inducing gooeyness in one's chest, in either order. For the latter in the case of Sword's enigmatic mentor, at least according to Sword.
The stranger seems to be leaning towards neither. They simply point at a cheap sticker slapped onto their chest that reads:
Hello! My name is:
___ JON ___
A stranger with a very strange name that doesn't offer a single insight to the kind of inphernal they are. Yep. Rocket did not like the feeling this 'Jon' was giving him.
Sword pursues the conversation ahead anyway. "Hi Jon. Do you know where Zuka is?"
'Jon' gestures vaguely outside the shop's vicinity.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Rocket can't help but ask testily, lips curling into a displeased frown. "Is he here or did you do something to him?"
'Jon' slowly turns their head to give Rocket a weird look. Ah wait, no. He's familiar with it; it's the kind of look you give when you're trying to assess someone of their danger level.
Are they a threat? Are they going to be a problem?
It takes 'Jon' ten seconds for the look to drop into an apathetic expression. They don't seem to consider Rocket a threat at all. Instead, they give the two inphernals a lazy shrug. Not once do they open their mouth to give Rocket a verbal answer - a confirmation of Zuka's whereabouts.
Sword takes the subtle dismissal far less personally than Rocket does. "Do you mind if we wait for Zuka here?"
'Jon' shrugs again. Evidently, they do not care.
Rocket walks past the main counter to the shop's side and leans over the counter's top to grab the stools he and his dad keeps there to sit during downtime. 'Jon' glances at them only a brief moment before returning to their solemn duty of attending to the counter.
Sword probes at the stranger a few time to get a feel of who they're dealing with, while Rocket plans out an explosive murder in his mind.
"Where did you come from?"
"What do you do in your free time?"
"Do you like Phighting?"
'Jon' does not deign to give Sword a verbal answer for anything, other than a blank look.
"Where are your horns?" Sword cannot help but ask with the grace of a truck.
'Jon' finally regards Sword with a look other than the blank stare they've been giving the entire time. Slowly, their gaze shifts from Sword's rigid upright horns, to Rocket's neatly trimmed horns, then simply tips the brim of their cap at the two Inphernals.
In other words, small horns.
Rocket wonders if 'Jon' is embarrassed about having small horns and viciously decides to hold that as blackmail, however that'll work. He is not above mockery.
"Hey." Sword whispers out to Rocket in a hiss, hand cupping over his mouth to speak to his friend lowly, "What do you think?"
"Suspicious as hell." Rocket grunts back, eyes glaring holes in the back of 'Jon's top.
Rocket does not trust this stranger at all. Has he mentioned that?
"Yup." Sword hums back as if Rocket vocalised the thought.
The Phighters sit and wait, watching with near obsession of 'Jon' standing behind the counter and occasionally dealing with Zuka's customers. They're awful at the job, not even bothering with trying to sell the ideas of artificial gears to the customers.
All 'Jon' does is silently push out one of Zuka's old magazine and let the customers read, and write down their name on some piece of paper before the customers leave.
A few seconds before Rocket decides he's waited long enough to summon his gear for some lighthearted threatening, Zuka arrives to the stranger's rescue with a plastic bag hanging in his hand.
"Kid, why are you sitting out there?" There's a slight furrow in the old mercenary's brow as he stops close to Rocket, not acknowledging the stranger standing in his spot in the shop. "Thought you had a match today."
"We lost." Rocket jabs a thumb over at 'Jon'. "Who's that?"
"A part timer." Zuka replies after a moment of thought, glancing at 'Jon' who finally looks away from their vigil. "Thanks for covering today."
"Wait, they actually work for you?" Sword pipes up curiously with a slight bounce in his movement, looking back and forth between Zuka and 'Jon'.
"Since when? You never mentioned there was a new guy here." Rocket brings up doubtfully, lips pulled into a pensive frown.
At least, he's fairly certain Zuka never mentioned anything of the sort.
"It was a last minute thing." His dad shrugged, setting the plastic bag down on the counter as 'Jon' puts the magazine back under the counter. "I needed them to fill in for today while I got dinner."
"You could've asked me, I would've gone and done it." Rocket brings up as 'Jon' looks through the bag like a nosy rat.
Their gaze turns pensive when they pull out a crumbled voucher page with big stamps on it.
"Limited sale time in the supermarket and I thought you were going to be Phighting longer." Zuka reasons back, plucking the crinkled paper from 'Jon's sticky fingers and putting it back into the bag.
'Jon' stares at the father with a silent demand for the bag's content. What the hell, wasn't that his family's dinner anyway?
Zuka defies that presumption by putting his hand into the bag and pulls out a can of Witches Brew. 'Jon' takes the can and inspects it closely like a magpie would do with its treasure.
"It'll probably taste different than what you're used to." Zuka tells his new part time worker who scrunches up their face at the thought.
What was that supposed to mean?
Rocket tries to beams his questions into his dad's head, and predictably fails when instead, Zuka proceeds to pull out an entire burger from the bag and hands that to 'Jon' as well.
"We don't have med kits here." Zuka huffs at 'Jon' when they held out an expectant hand, and shakes his head when they reach into their pocket to pull out some yellow vouchers. "TIX isn't a currency here. We use Bux." The retired Inphernal pulls out a small handful of Bux and deposits that in front of 'Jon'.
'Jon' expression flickers into something else briefly - surprise? - before it settles back into their apathetic gaze. They simply nod and accept their labor's reward of a soda can, a burger and Bux.
"Dad, you still haven't told me who that is." Rocket reminds his father. Something about that makes 'Jon' look at Zuka with a furrow in their brows and they point at Rocket.
Zuka ignores 'Jon' in favor of his son. "I told you, they're a part time worker I just hired for today." He looks back at them right as-
Rocket blinks. He did not just see that. "Sword, did you just see that?"
"Yeah." Sword nodded with wide awed eyes as the soda can is the next to disappear.
Who the hell puts a perfectly fine burger in their pocket?
Apparently the nutjob called 'Jon'.
'Jon', as if to add fuel to the flames, does not acknowledge their reaction with a verbal response. There is a slight spark of amusement in their eyes though, if one knew how to decipher their expression like Zuka.
Zuka however does not feel like entertaining his son and his friend with an explanation of the tomfoolery they just witnessed. Either that or he too, is equally at loss for the blatant violation of physics that happened in his shop.
Still, Zuka had acknowledged 'Jon' as a part time worker of his shop. Despite how stupid it was and illogical as well, Rocket felt a very, very minor stab of jealousy at 'Jon'. It's always been just Zuka and Rocket at the shop after all. Never anyone else.
Zuka refused to employ any other inphernals on the basis that one, he didn't trust anyone to not screw up the shop and two, it was just more affordable for the family. If he was too tired and on the rare instances when Rocket wasn't available to cover his dad's shift, then the shop would just be closed for the day. That was how it was as far as Rocket could remember when Zuka trusted him to look after the shop.
The only exception was that creepy welll-dressed inphernal that comes to crash at their home every now and then.
What did this 'Jon' guy do for his dad to employ him on the spot?
Neither 'Jon' nor his dad bothers to clarify a thing for Sword or Rocket, as 'Jon' simply vacates the spot for his dad while the latter returned back to his rightful spot again.
"Be sure to come back before it gets dark. And don't stray too far from the area. You're not used to this place." Zuka tells 'Jon' with the same stern tone he uses for Rocket whenever the latter is up to crimes.
"They're coming back?" Rocket can't help the little whine in his voice while 'Jon' wanders off like a stray thing returning to whence it came - that is, some dingy alley.
There's that tiny, tiny unreasonable voice of old insecurities and anxieties in the head that whispers threats of replacement. Rocket thought he stamped that out ages ago during one terribly awkward spawn day thrown by one terribly awkward dad.
Rocket is not being replaced. Rocket is very much Zuka's son. Begone, self doubts.
"Yeah. They don't have anywhere else to go for now." Zuka nodded as he pulls his own stool into place and seats himself to rest his legs. "It's only for a while, at least until they catch their breath again."
"Are they in trouble? Do we need to help them?" Sword assumes with worried brows, looking over to the direction 'Jon' disappeared to.
"Hopefully not. We have enough trouble going on in the Inpherno as it is." Zuka huffs out, bracing one arm on the countertop and resting his chin atop his hand. "Also, they've got enough going on too. We all need a break." A beat passes before Zuka looks over at Rocket with a bemused smile, "You gonna help out with dinner?"
Rocket withholds the 'tsk' from his tongue. Dang, his dad didn't say to lend him a hand. Missed opportunity.
"Dad, it's only five." Rocket snorts back, easing himself back into the familiar banter and routine.
--
'Vote your favourite Phighter today!' reads a colourful poster that's halfway off peeling from the concrete wall, featuring a boisterous figure in purple.
Towers of steel and glass, the near and far grumbles of cars and the ever present chatters of the horned population that inhabited the world.
It's both a familiar and confusing sight for them. The Bizville they fight for hasn't quite reached that state yet, but the one they grew up in has. What's the opposite of nostalgia where your childhood happens in the future of when you are at?
The media does not convey just enough how much of a headache time travel is. Or in their newly developed case, both time travel and parallel dimension travel. At least, they hope it's parallel. They are not ready for considering the consequences of their meddlings in the past.
The big tower at the central plaza is still quite the sight though - a gargantuan spire of interconnecting steel beams and a spiked halo to surround its head. It reminds them slightly of the Headquarters from both times.
Homesickness nearly strangles them by the throat before the emotion is wrangled back to nothing. No, there's a much more important matter to deal with here anyway.
They peel off the tacky little name tag sticker from their top, balling it up and stuffing it in their pocket before counting the BUX Zuka paid them for fulfilling his side quest. Truthfully, retail was something they kind of missed, but more for the normalcy it re-introduced in their life rather than the experience of dull servitude. A nice break from the fighting, even though every second passing felt wrong.
Speaking of a break, they never could've perceived receiving a very generous reward from a simple side quest. Not many people were willing with BUX.
Maybe one, or two if they were feeling extremely generous, but a whopping fifty?
Without a difficult fight to impede their path?
… Zuka had mentioned that the city uses BUX as their currency.
They may have tamed Greed, but they also do not look at a gift horse in the mouth. This would let them purchase a lot of beneficial upgrades and items that'll make the rest of their quest easier once they get back.
Perhaps they could finally afford those elusive cards that costs them five. The possibilities are endless.
No, wait.
Better yet, what new items can they acquire here? New cards even?
( You are merely delaying your quest. )
( You are keeping yourself trapped here. )
They are not. They are… Taking a break. A nice little moment to themself, like Kyoko had advised them so many times in the quiet times when Shedletsky tells them to wait while he arranges their route to the next sword.
Besides, it's not like the way back is within their control.
They make sure to keep track of the light level as they wander, being mindful of Zuka's request for them to return to his shop before it got dark. It was nice that the man- Inphernal, they remind themself of the quick terminologies Zuka briefed them on - was looking out for them, considering that their interactions were mainly as shopkeeper and customer.
It also really explained why Zuka looked uncomfortably out of place in the Vermillion village, even after he confided with them about being misplaced. Who would've thought he was from an entirely different world that mirrored their home time?
What luck the both of them have.
Speaking of luck, their ability to locate trouble doesn't fail them as the corner they turn to makes them witness to a blue individual with pink horns shouting after a cackling group that runs, leaving behind colorful cans.
"It is on sight when I see you lot again! On sight!" The blue one yelled loud and full of spite, shaking one balled up hand after their disappearing figures. There's a scowl on their face as they turn to look up at the blue wall that's freshly defaced with grattifis of way too stylized names and other obscenities. "Ugh, this is going to be a pain to clean up… Couldn't they have picked literally anything else as graffiti? I wouldn't complain as much if it was cute at least."
They agree. This was just plain tacky and ugly. Garish with not a single color to match the wall's already pretty colour.
"Gah! How long have you been standing there?" The poor worker startled when their presence is finally noticed.
They have the decency to give a little apologetic bow of their head.
There's an awkward beat of silence that passes before the worker decides to speak up, "Ah, if you're a customer, just come inside. I'll be with you in a short moment, just as soon as I figure out how to clean this up. Or at least, cover it up."
Based on past experiences, a short moment usually translates to however long it takes for the problem to be resolved by them. Not entirely unwelcomed, they were starting to feel a little restless with their aimless wanderings anyway.
They stare at the vandalised wall with a contemplative look. It's not exactly a small canvas on an easel, but anything was technically a canvas, right? It didn't stop those taggers from treating it as such anyway.
Pulling out the Paintball Gun from their inventory, they give the worker a little tap on the shoulder and once the attention has been drawn, held up the Paint Gun invitingly.
"Huh? You want to paint over the wall?" The worker frowns at their nod, lips pursing in a pensive manner as they glance back at the shop that's filled with chatters of customers, "I guess… You're not planning to replace it with more graffiti, are you?"
They shake their head.
The worker seems to lighten up a bit and holds up a finger sternly, "Mm… Okay, in that case, you can. But only in the same colour as the wall! Or at least roughly the same colour." There's a beat as the worker looks at the Paintball Gun, "Do you need to buy the paint? Because-"
They shake their head again. Inexplicably, the Paintball Gun would always have the right colours needed for the job, even a mime's request for the Mona Lisa. They chalked it up to Opticus enchanting the tool in some way before handing it to them. Opticus was a wizard after all.
The worker brightens considerably at this. "Okay. Okay, thank you so much. I'll come check on you again when I can-" They glance at the shop again when someone called out for a staff, and back away towards the door, "Or better yet, come inside and speak to me when you're done. I'll ask my brothers about a suitable payment if you do it right."
And with that, they rush back inside to deal with their customers.
That suited them just fine. They liked to work alone for painting anyway.
Positioning themself at the center of the vandalized wall for maximum range and view of the chosen canvas, they raise the Paintball Gun and pull the trigger.
They missed this a little. Painting wasn't exactly their usual tool - the pencil and eraser was much more affordable and gentler with mistakes - but the whimsical joy of creation was always appreciated. Not even Hatred mocking them with the title of creator could stamp that out entirely.
Click. Splat. Click. Splat. Click. Splat. Click. Splat.
It was a little troublesome to find the right hue of blue to fit the wall. Also, a little dull to be honest. Even Trinity had runes for them to paint in order to progress through the city. Cassie had been very delighted to explain each design, though they sometimes wonder if it was so the girl wouldn't feel too awkward or lonely standing there while they painted.
They can appreciate having a bigger canvas to work with at least.
Honestly, these graffitists had no taste. Stylized texts were good, but not so overly angled to the point that you could barely even read the letters. That was just messy. An icon would've left a better mark. Like a white cat. Maybe some paw prints too. White and blue was a good colour combination anyway.
"Hey!"
They kind of miss petting cats. They haven't petted one since being flung to 2010. The closest they ever got to petting an animal was the turtles and while it did sate the curiosity for a while, there was always the desire to pet something soft.
"Helloooo? Inpherno to inphernal!?"
Round and rotund. Maximum squish. Gods, what one would not do to be subjected to toe beans.
Someone puts an entire hand on their shoulder and they nearly smack an unfortunate worker with the Paintball Gun. The flash of pink is the only thing that stopped them, fear of hitting Kyoko overriding violent instincts.
Thankfully, they did not hit 'Kyoko'.
"Sorry! You weren't- Well, I noticed you hadn't come inside after a long while and I did try to call out to you a bunch of times." The pink horned worker spoke with a mix of sheepishness and certainty, "How long does it take to paint a… Wall…?"
They look back to the freshly painted wall and winced. What was meant to be a simple blue wall to replace the graffiti was now adorned with a short trail of paw prints that lead up to a rotund beast of white. An absolute unit.
Apparently they missed drawing so much they zoned out from having a big canvas with zero restriction on the end goal. This was probably worse than giving Kitchen Chef the wrong red bottle, because at least that incident was contained locally to the kitchen. Their mistake is huge and easy visible to any potential customers who wanted to stop by this shop.
They prepare themselves for being yelled at for their incorrigible mistake-
"This is really cute??? Hang on, stay right there- Slingshot, come outside!" The worker called out loudly.
There's a moment of tense silence as another worker garbed in blue - entirely in blue, now that they're observing the approaching newcomer - who slows their stride as they gaze upon the Mistake.
"I- What is happening? Happened? What is- Vine, what happened to the wall?" Slingshot gestured at the painted wall in bewilderment.
"Some Inphernals came around a while back and tagged the cafe with graffiti while we were in the evening rush. I was gonna clean it up but they," Vine gestured at them, "Offered to fix it up. I did ask them to just repaint it blue like it was before, but this is too cute to clean off."
They blushed a little at the compliment. It wasn't that cute, right?
"… You're not wrong." Slingshot agreed with another glance at the painted wall. "Still, you could've told me earlier when the rush ended?"
"Yeah but what's done is done." Vine shrugged with a beaming face, "So, can we keep it?"
"Fine. Yeah. Luckily it fits the cafe's look anyway." Slingshot approved with a nod and turned to face them, "How long did you work on this?"
They wiggle their hands in an uncertain manner. It's not like they had a watch on hand or any other method of time observation except for the setting sun, which was neither great at obtaining the exact time either.
"Two hours." Vine filled in helpfully, which seems to be enough for Slingshot to walk back into the cafe before coming back out to deposit a handful of Bux into their hand.
It's considerably bulkier than the amount Zuka gave them.
They try not to stare at their hand's occupant. This much for a painted doodle they made in an art deprived stupor?
Slingshot and Vine give their thanks to them once more before disappearing back inside the cafe. A shame that the cafe was in the middle of closing, and they didn't want to be that one customer who puts a huge order at the end of a shift.
They'll come back another time. It was getting dark anyway and they needed to trace their steps back to Zuka's shop.
'Jon' returns to the family at exactly seven-thirty, without the name tag sticker. Rocket is in the middle of trying to busy himself with tinkering one of the artificial gears marked for repairs, while also spying on 'Jon'. Sword sits besides him as moral support.
"Welcome back." Zuka greets 'Jon' with an awkward grunt that is received by 'Jon's usual silence, "Dinner will be ready in a bit."
"They're weird." Sword comments quietly, just within Rocket's earshot.
"Yeah?" Rocket hums as he tightens a bolt, thinks about it before loosening up the bolt again with the wrench.
"I dunno. Do you get a weird feeling?" Sword continues on with a sigh in his words, chin resting on his hand.
"If by weird feeling you mean doubts, then yeah. But you heard my dad." Rocket fumbles with re-orienting the bolt and attempts to tighten it properly this time. "They'll stick around for a day and probably head off somewhere. Why? Do they give you a different weird sense?"
"Kinda? Maybe?" Rocket looks at his friend's muddled expression that only shows itself when Sword is really thinking hard.
100% usage of whatever brain cell is left in the melee Phighter's head. Either that or Sword's uncanny sense for unspoken baggage.
The mechanic stops his tinkering for a moment. "Is that meant to be a good or bad thing?"
Sword throws up his hands in a very lost shrug and looks away immediately when 'Jon' glances over at the duo.
All Sword knows is that whenever they look at 'Jon', it feels like he's greeting a member of his estranged family.
Then in a surprising turn of events, 'Jon' approaches them. They stare intently at the artificial gear being tended to by Rocket, who bristles at the newfound attention.
"What?" Rocket nearly spits out, brows furrowing when 'Jon' gestured at the weapon in his lap, "Oh. It's just a laser guided launcher. Or at least, supposed to be." He grumbled as he lowers the screwdriver in hand.
'Jon' seemed to be thinking over something before in another casual act of violation of physic, pull out an entire launcher from behind them. Rocket nearly dropped the laser guided launcher and instinctively summons his own-
'Jon' holds the launcher out to Rocket with their two hands, beckoning for the Inphernal to take a look.
Rocket glowered at 'Jon' for the unwanted scare. "You need to give a guy warning before pulling out your gear on him! Also, I'm busy looking at another launcher already?" He gestured obviously to the launcher on his lap.
"Oh hey, Rocket, their gear is a rocket launcher like yours!" Sword grinned at his friend, earning a flat glare from Rocket, and oddly enough, a strange frown from 'Jon' followed by a shake of their head, "It's not? It's an artificial gear? What's your gear then?"
'Jon' looks back at Zuka who's still waiting for the rice to finish steaming before deciding to indulge with Sword's curiosity. The launcher is set down on the floor gently before 'Jon' begins to pull out their gear. Or gears rather, as Sword and Rocket bore witness to 'Jon's phlethora of tools.
A Classic Brigand sword.
A Slingshot.
A Paintball Gun.
A pair of Rocket Boots.
"Dude, what-"
A stick of Dynamite.
A white version of the Superball.
"Um-"
Some greyish bottle.
Another bottle that had… a ship inside it?
"Hey-?"
A shovel.
"Kids, put away the weapons. It's dinner time." Zuka's gruff voice is the only thing that stops 'Jon' from pulling out a suspiciously bright blue dagger from their back, before they sweep all of their tools back into whatever hole they store their gears in and ditch a flabbergasted Rocket and Sword in favour for dinner.
Rocket just remembers to put the laser guided launcher on the coffee table before running up to his dad, "Dad, are you sure they're just a part time worker and not a secret regular customer of yours?"
Zuka takes a moment to stop and consider. Well, they weren't technically a regular of his shop.
"Positive. Now sit down and eat." Zuka grunts as he takes his seat next to 'Jon' and spares a look at them. "You look like you had fun."
'Jon' mimes pulling the trigger of a rifle to Zuka, and Rocket wonders if 'Jon' had committed murder somewhere in Crossroads.
--
"What the fuck." Rocket nearly startles upon seeing 'Jon' at the table in the next morning, poking at the cereal in a bowl.
Slapped on their chest was the same dumb sticker with a nameplate that reads:
Hello! My name is:
___your mom___
Rocket feels like he's having a stroke. They look back at him with the serene and grace of a civilized inphernal who did not just fucking call themselves that.
I fuckij love this oh my god lmfaoo
Absolutely astounding
eee thank you, glad you enjoyed :]
