[MINGLE] Scout's Honor

[sixthiteration]

WHERE: Hot Springs
WHEN: 21 Sept, after sunset
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
WARNINGS: Please warn in your subject line as needed
NOTES: Details found here

---

It's been a strange, rough couple of months for our intrepid villagers — Bunkers, superpowers and clones, oh my! Perhaps the Observers are sympathetic to their plight, or maybe they just have a peculiar sense of humor. At any rate, they've set up a gathering space chalk full of summer camp goodness, no strings attached. Not that anyone knows that part.

Just before sunset, a cheery message pops up on wrist devices all across the settlement and beyond. The instructions seem simple enough, although one does have to wonder at what dubious gift awaits them all after everything is said and done.

Marshmallows are on the house, so grab yourself a stick, strap on a sash and get to roasting, villagers. Skinny dipping, sing-alongs and friendship bracelets optional.

Comments

Liv Moore | OTA

[living_proof]

I've never been much of an outdoors person. I am nothing if not good at adapting, including to the woodsy reality that has been foisted upon me in this place, but do not be fooled. My Girl Scouting career lasted exactly two weeks and two meetings, the second of which involved bugs. On purpose. Now, as an adult who is used to being up to her elbows in dead people, examining grasshoppers and fireflies and carpenter ants would be no biggie, but seven-year-old me was out of there with a quickness. No, ma'am.

I do not know the words to "Kumbaya." (I am assuming it has more than three words.)

I have never told or listened to a ghost story around a campfire.

I have only ever toasted marshmallows over fire pits in well-groomed backyards.

But you know what? I'm a girl, and where I come from, that means I know how to make a bangin' friendship bracelet. Not the lazy knotted ones — The really fat ones that spell out names or 'BFF' and have hearts on them. Needless to say, I got my friendship bracelet game on LOCK.

Maybe also needless to say, I am intensely focused on the task — More than is probably called for when we're talking about embroidery thread spelling out 'UR RAD' in neon green letters, but we've all got our coping mechanisms, okay? Mine just currently involves sitting in front of a fire, hunched over a tiny weaving project I am holding in place with my knees.

[ataashihunter]

Bull has been relaxing for a while before he sees her working on the bracelet and finally he walks over to sit down next to her. He looks at her work for a bit before he speaks up. "What does rad mean?"

[living_proof]

I know it's Bull before I even look up — A man that big has a certain way of moving, of taking up space. There's nothing tentative about the way he steps over and sits down. Which is just fine by me; it's one of the things I like about him.

"It's short for radical, which is slang for like..." I pause in my weaving and tip a glance up, squinting into the middle distance. All of the alternate words I can think of are also slang he might not get. "Nice, or excellent. Keen?" I grin, looking up to Bull. "Marvelous."

[ataashihunter]

Bull thinks about it for a moment. "And the U and R are also short, right?" He can guess what for but he wants to be sure about it. Then he smiles slightly.

"You're Tony's doctor, right?"

[living_proof]

"They are," I confirm, and then immediately snap my attention from the bracelet up to Bull's face, my eyes narrowing.

"That doesn't sound at all ominous," I say. "What are you doing to my eccentric genius patient, Bull? He has had a serious, life-threatening injury."

[ataashihunter]

"Nothing he doesn't want, Liv. He said you'd told him no strenuous physical activity. And fucking does count as that."

[living_proof]

"Thank you for making clear your sexual escapades are, in fact, consensual," I reply, my expression going pinched. "Also, fucking does not always count as strenuous physical activity. Love him sweetly, Bull. Love him tenderly. Do not tie him to the headboard and nail him into the mattress. Okay? Trust me that you will be sorry after when he starts to bleed internally."

[ataashihunter]

"Some people get ideas after they've gotten a look at me. And sweetly and tenderly is not why he is interested in me. He wants someone to hold him down and let him have it rough. But alright, I'll go easy on the actual fucking."

[living_proof]

I can't help the way my face screws up at that bit of casual information. "That is really..." I begin, and then trail off, mouth open as I falter, reconsidering. "Actually not remotely surprising now that I consider it. But for the record, I hadn't planned on considering it."

What is it about Tony Stark that even when he is only tangentially involved in my conversations, they end up about sex? Because that is really not the outcome I would prefer.

"But thank you," I continue, and give Bull's knee a pat. "I promise you, he'll be up to a deep dicking soon enough."

[ataashihunter]

"Alright, then I'll get creative in the meantime. You're welcome to come along if you're interested." Bull answers with a smile and then picks up some strings to make his own bracelet.

[living_proof]

"I'm actually super well set in that area, but thank you for the very thoughtful offer," I reply with a soft huff of laughter and a shake of my head. "Also, Tony really, really isn't my type." Hell, between the two of us, it would probably be non-stop talking and very little actual screwing.

Not that I'm technically screwing anybody anyway, but the fact remains.

[ataashihunter]

"Good to know." He grins slightly. "So who's the lucky guy or gal?" He continues the braiding and shrugs. "You'd be surprised at how easy it is to make him shut up with a hand in his head and a bossy attitude." That's how Bull does it at least.

[living_proof]

"You're also about five times taller than I am, Bull," I point out with an arch of an eyebrow. "And Tony has a vested interest in doing what you say. Not so much with me." At least, I really hope not.

I turn back to my weaving, then glance up with a jerk of my chin across the circle. "And the completely swoon-worthy, metal-armed gentleman doing a very poor job of making a bracelet over there is mine. Somehow."

[3ofswords]

Kira's bracelet weaving comes from a different set of skills, unfairly barred as he'd been from chunky bracelet sleepovers in his youth. Maybe the hobby would have superseded the abuse of snap bracelets for all of his early middle school years, but he doubts it. What greater joy is there at eleven than slapping a flimsy piece of metal onto your peers like you're breaking a cement block with your hand?

Definitely not camping, which is only tolerable in their large group and with the ability to pre-game.

Careful not to jostle her, it takes a better part of the hour for him to finish the lettering on a neat little bracelet, woven tight and sleek like a lanyard. Maybe it should have been a lanyard, for all that the science types don't have key cards and name tags at the clinic. "See, you've got the right idea," he comments, admiring her handiwork as he passes over a length of neon blue and bright red proclaiming R U NASTY.

What do you get the girl who has everything, when you maybe almost got her dick donor killed by snakes? Nothing but the best.

[living_proof]

I'm in the friendship-bracelet-making zone, so it takes a couple of beats for me to blink away my focus and slide my gaze to the offered accoutrement. My stunned stare shifts almost immediately into wide-eyed glee.

"Oh my god," I say, dropping the ends of my work in progress to pick up the finished article Kira's passed over. "This is the best thing I've ever been given in this place that wasn't attached to a war veteran."

[3ofswords]

Call of Duty fan that he was, Kira always knew Ravi was good people--there's proof in who he surrounds himself with, who knows him. Liv is a fucking bastion when the ren faire set try to hear the tick in their smart watches or he trips up on someone mentioning a battle for New York.

"Don't worry, I gave him one too." Or do worry, considering its resemblance to the specimen he dropped at the clinic after that whole ordeal. "I'm just regretting the oversight of not putting hugs, not drugs on it.

"How's things? I hear Major went on a rant about my cheekbones."

[living_proof]

"See, I was wondering what to put on the one I'm going to make him, and now I know." As if it's a joke. As if I hadn't wanted to strangle Bucky for venturing into the wilderness to battle giant fucking snakes.

The casual segue from current boy to previous boy makes me squint at the fire in a vaguely-pained fashion, but I can't expect Kira or anyone really to understand the history there, both ancient and recent.

"Yeah, that—" I begin, and lift a hand in an awkward, oblique gesture. "It was a thing that happened for sure."

There are people that Ravi has told and people Ravi has not. Generally, I have no idea who falls into which category until they announce the knowledge out of nowhere.

[3ofswords]

It better not be a joke: Kira wants nothing more in the moment than for every string on Bucky's wrist to be a wry reminder of that time they almost died on a shitty island. Meanwhile, his half-chunky-garbage bracelet stands as a reminder that they did not die, and no hard feelings.

Sometimes a place just has snakes.

Sometimes the guy who gets bit was a KGB assassin, or what the fuck ever.

Shit happens. "When I met Major he mentioned a shirt made of condoms, so, seems--normal, but from the tone I take it this was more z-word normal." Having spilled the entire fucking story days one through whichever day the fountain spat him back up, Kira knows more about Major as a zombie than Major as an ex. Lifting his brows, he half-explains: "Ravi has a big mouth, and I live with Mark."

[living_proof]

I hadn't thought of the Mark connection, although I probably should have — Not being a stoner, I don't have a lot of cause to be thinking about who happens to live in the Weed House, as it is affectionately and appropriately called. Kira's reaction is so mild it's edging into blase, but my expression still goes pinched. I hate having these things sprung on me.

"He has a very big mouth," I agree with a faint sigh. "I don't think he's ever really understood the optics of being a full-time zombie." I slide Kira a look. "I'd appreciate it if you'd keep that bit of trivia to yourself. This isn't like vampires. It's not an exotic, sexy affliction. People just think Night of the Living Dead and body parts falling off."

[3ofswords]

"None of them seem like much fun, from what I've seen." The convenience of not having, or not being able to eat the food the village provides is debatable--no one's really made him catch a squirrel to get his protein for the day, in this year of village life or from what he's read of the last one. "I wasn't aware sexiness was the big concern, but noted."

Unlike other certain horrible secrets that came to light weeks later anyway, this one affects him shockingly little.

"Some people make their weird shit work for them," he says, nodding at the far more existentially baffling grey dude with horns, who doesn't seem to own any shirts and has had no one asking him to find one.

[living_proof]

"Oh, you do not even want to know how well he makes his weird shit work for him, trust me," I immediately reply, holding up a palm to stop Kira right there, except not really, because this is the good village gossip. I squint at Bull from across the wavering firelight. "If I was into Tim Curry in that movie about the unicorn with baby Tom Cruise, he could get it," I admit.

Could, but wouldn't, because that's actually the point of the conversation, even if it's veered pretty far away from the tribulations of zombiism.

[3ofswords]

"You didn't like Legend," he asks, like it's a bigger affront than Bull's entire existence. How did they even fit that in a tube? Where did the size difference end? How lucky were they that the food situation was mostly under control when he arrived?

Not the pertinent questions. Kira full on tilts his head and considers as Bull turns to engage some conversation, because somehow a perfectly pleasant and sentient person resided in that big grey chassis. "I don't know, there's a point where big is too big, but I guess if I lost an arm up there I'd have a buddy to help me through the adjustment period."

[living_proof]

"When did I say I didn't like Legend?" I'm quick to shoot back. "Not being ready to climb Red Horned Mountain doesn't mean I'm not into unicorns and fairies and Tom before the couch-jumping."

The armless support system remark I let slide, because there is something else that needs to be addressed. I lift a hand. "Hold on. How? What are you doing with anyone in the bedroom that would end in lost appendages? You know your arm's attached, right? So if you go for a deep dive or something, you can pull it back out, it's not gone forever."

[3ofswords]

Kira sighs deeply enough, he seems on the verge of terrible revelation--fisting related or otherwise. "I don't think there really was a Tom before the couch-jumping. I think it was always inside of him."

Speaking of things inside of people: "Look at him, Liv. Look at his back muscles, look at my arms. He'd clench it right off at the finish."

[living_proof]

Frowning, I squint over at Bull, and then slide Kira a skeptical look. I could point out that assholes don't really work that way, but what would be the fun in that?

"Best to just avoid that ride, then," I settle on. "But the point stands, I guess, that some people are into that." I hesitate a tick. "Tony, for example, which is fine, I'm glad they found each other, but not what I might have expected. Maybe I should have." I direct my squint to the genius in question. "He looks like he'd be into spanking."