#<- hes not in this but who do u think bucks talkin about

[2knightt]

Do you think u could write abt the gang being (separately) absolutely obsessed with the reader. Like they adore everything she does, they can’t get enough of her. To the point where the rest of the gang starts releasing them abt it, meanwhile reader is like completely oblivious lol

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ heaven and hell were words to me.⋄ 𓍯

…IN WHICH! the greasers are totally obsessed!

tags/warnings: no confessions—just the gang having a crush, gang being literally whipped, them being a little odd, kinda toxic!johnny LFMAO, nothing else to my knowledge

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ i’m just working…working hard so i can please you.(shout out to ema/corvyes/loml for that ref.) but if i get a req asking me for like the gng confessing to you—i will do it. trust.

Dallas Winston

WHEN HE’S DRUNK, YOU’RE ALLLL HE TALKS ABOUT LMFAOOOO

“i’m tellin’ you—there ain’t a girl like her.”

dallas would repeat after what felt like this 5th drink of the night. buck is sick of him, two-bit regrets dragging him along, and dallas just wants to tell them how good you looked today.

when he sees you walking home, to school, or to work he WILL tag along. HE DOESN’T GAF IF YOU TELL HIM TO TAKE A HIKE!

actually, he kinda does. you’re like the only person he listens to.

LMFAOOO THE GANG THREATENS TO CALL YOU OVER WHENEVER DALLAS IS DOING SMTH STUPID

like whenever you threaten a kid ur gna tell santa.

“dallas, i’m gonna tell y/n what you did last week.”

“??if you do, i’ll beat your head in, soda.”

“YIKES..i’m gonna have to tell her that too…”

“…don’t, she’d be so mad at me😔😒.”

THE GANG TEASES DALLAS THE WORST(besides ponyboy) ABOUT YOU LFNAOAOAOAO

like they’re shoving him toward you, nudging him at even the slightest mention of you, giggling as they tell him they seen you today.

“look, it’s your girlfriend.”

“steve, shut up! she ain’t deaf!”

—

“GO SEE HER!”

“OW—i mean—hi, y/n.”

“did you…trip? or did you mean to bump into me?”

“yeah, sorry or whatever. some IDIOT back there pushed me.”

—

“guess who i saw..🥰🥰”

“who?”

“your wife…”

“can you NOT.”

despite all that, you somehow, still don’t know how he feels about you. how? we’ll never know. it’s beyond the human mind.

his friends try and hint at you that the big, bad greaser has a school girl crush on you. do you get what they’re trying to say? no. but that’s okay, you’re just a girl.

lowkey pisses dallas off but that’s okay cuz he prefers admiring from afar. DOES HOWEVER ASK YOU TO HANG OUT AND CONSIDERS THEM A DATE IN HIS HEAD TO KEEP HIM SANE LFMAO

“you wanna go see this drag race tomorrow?”

“sure! i don’t have work then. uhm, pick me up at my place!”

“alright, cool.”

‘yeah..,it’s date🥱😍’ — dallas’ brain.

Johnny Cade

‘johnny, if you even fucking stutter when you talk to her today—you’re gonna have to drink pickle juice.’

“oh, hi. i didn’t see you there, johnny. ‘m sorry.”

“o-oh—it’s alright.”

‘well, shit.”

he thinks he looks like such a fucking loser when he talks to you omfg😭😭

the gang tries to tell him he might have a shot but he thinks they’re just telling him that because he’s their friend. :(

HEAVILY admires from afar. like seriously he’s a fucking stalker

WAIT LMFOAOO HE’D BE THE TYPE OF GUY TO ACCIDENTALLY STALK YOU LIKE HE’D FOLLOW YOU PLACES FROM AFAR LMFAOAOAOOAOA

what a little freak

anyways

he accidentally lets things slip to let you know he’s better than any other guy trying to go after you. like if you had a shitty ex—he’s preaching that he’d ‘never treat you like that, he can’t imagine that a guy with a brain ever would.’

johnny does everything to keep your attention on HIM and nobody else when your friends try and talk to you when you two are out together. like you could be having a conversation with him and he’d be just pouting in the background with his arms crossed.

“y/n, look. they got that shirt you was talkin’ ‘bout. let’s go check it out. c’mon.” “oh—alright! bye, viv!😊” “yeah, bye viv.😒”

side eyes the gang whenever they bring you up in conversation

“johnny and y/n sittin’ in a tree—“

“😒🤨”

“alright.”

he tries to subtly hint that he really likes you and that you’re his type but it’s not subtle at ALL.

“y’know, if i were to have a girlfriend, i’d wish she was like you.”

—

“my type? uhm, it’d probably be someone-“ and he goes on to describe you.

Ponyboy Curtis

‘holy fuck that’s literally y/n walking towards me??!! does she know i’m here—does she even know me-wow she looks good in red. i mean—SHE’S WAVING OH MY GOD.’

HE IS SUCH A WRECK I CANTTT

ponyboy is the type to stare off into space in your direction and dream about how well he’d treat you if he was your man!!

yk how bitches be like ‘my man, my man!’ whenever they talk about their crush?? he’s all ‘my girl, my girl!’ WUAGRMRNEE

the gang was so confused on why he was so eager to go to school all of a sudden?? and why he cares about his appearance just slightly more than usual?? …is that soda’s shirt he’s wearing?-

two-bit was the first one to realize what was happening when he seen ponyboy and you talk in the halls. that wasn’t the giveaway, though.

it was the way he stared at you like you were the only girl alive and everyone else was just gone. two-bit was almost moved to tears to see ponyboy all grown😞😞!!!

“is tha’ your girlfriend? that why you couldn’t wait ‘til monday?”

“shut up!”

“ouuu, wait until the gang hears ‘bout this!”

“YOU AIN’T TELLIN’ ‘EM NOTHIN’!”

ever since — it has been hell on earth for ponyboy. dallas brings you up every time ponyboy gets smart, johnny giggles at every kissing scene at a movie nudges him, soda and darry had to give him ‘the talk,’ (soda just made it worse by making snide remarks.) and steve never stopped poking fun at him.

two-bit tried to get you to spill the beans on how you felt about him, but all you’d do was huff and ignore him. FINE THEN😒!—is what he always thought.

soda, johnny and two-bit all let ponyboy rant about you.

“LIKE, BRO. my girl, my girl! she’s so cute and smart. LIKE SHE’S TOTALLY MY DREAM.”

—

“that’s so cute ☹️” - soda

“SHE WANTS YOU SOO BAD” - two-bit

“just go tell her, man.” - johnny

does everything to impress you stoppp 😭😭!! pony is trying harder in school, using less hair grease, wearing darry’s cheap cologne when he’s not looking, etc.

HE’S SO SILLY I LOVE HIM!!!

Sodapop Curtis

delusional king!!! yes soda, let the voices in your head tell you that she wants you so bad!!🫶🫶

swear to goddd he thinks y’all are meant to be. you tipped him when he was working at the cash register and he was sooo in love

sorry in my head he’s a hopeless romantic

cause a) you were gorgeous, b) kind enough to tip him, and c) most likely rich💯💯

when he seen you at random places with your friends—soda would get so excited LMFAOOO

STOP HE’D HOUND PONY FOR YOUR NAME

“bro they probably go to your school—just lemme look at your yearbook!”

“no??? you weirdo???”

“please??!! i’ll do the dishes or something!”

“….get me a pack of cigarettes and i’ll tell you.”

“OKAY🥰🥰”

stole them but pony never said how to get them so who gaf!!!

SODA WOULD TOTALLY WRITE YOUR FIRST INITAL + HIS LMFAOOAOAOAOAA

or he’d see who’s last name went best with curtis or your last name!!!1!1!1

he’s crazy insane over you did i say that already

whenever you come by the dx—he’d give you shit for free while you insist to pay.

“jus’ take it.”

“i can’t—i’d feel terrible.”

“it’s alright, no one has to know. right?”

he’d flash his million dollar smile, pushing your coke and chips close to you, inciting you to just take the food.

WAJENEDKD he wants u so bad it’s. so terrible.

steve hates his rambles

“YOU SHOULDA SEEN THE WAY ME AND HER WAS TALKING—SHE’S SO INTO MEEEE”

“yeah, she wants you!!! shut up now!!”

Darry Curtis

nobody knows. it’s like a top secret only darry knows. the gang has their suspicions but they can never really know why darry is suddenly so adamant on going to go get him, soda, and pony’s hair done at the salon.

they alllll can see that he only really talks to you—but at the same time he does that weird ass dad stance where they stand with their arms crossed and legs far apart LMFAOOOOO

darry thinks you’re like…model fine btw.!!!!!

BROOO WHEN YOU LIKE UNCONSCIOUSLY MASSAGE HIS HEAD WHEN YOURE CUTTING IT—HE’S SOO READY TO JUST ASK YOU OUT

darry doesn’t know what it is but goddamn!! you have him in a spell!!

“c’mon—we gotta go to the salon again.”

“….we just went?”

“TWO WEEKS AGO. it’s about time we go AGAIN.”

does in fact work a little extra just so he can see you. he’s that much of a loverboy i fear.

HE DOES ACTUALLY NOT WAIT TO ASK YOU OUT

like, among all the gang, he’s the only one mature enough to actually flirt with you properly & to ask if you’re single.

darry’s fucking down like that.

AWWHHH HE TOTALLY BUYS YOU FLOWERS AS A ‘THANK YOU’ GIFT LOL

flexs his strength around you to prove he’s worthy !!! DARRY LOVEEESSS SHOWING OFF WHEN YOU’RE LOOKING

megara + hercules methink…..

you two probably started hanging out as ‘friends.’ …yeah right!!!!

he’s driving you around as you be his pretty little passenger princess, he’s offering to buy you things when you two are out, etc, etc.

darry might not know how to show that he likes you, but trust me, the second that you look a little too far into his actions—it gets obvious.

like maybe too obvious idk.

Steve Randle

HELLLOOOO??? HE IS TOTALLY SHOWING OFF HIS GYMNASTICS MOVES AROUND YOU

“bro, bro! (yes he’d call you bro. idgaf.) watch what i can do!!😊😊” “wowwww, steve that’s so cool.”

geeks out near you. when you aren’t around the average person would see him and go ‘jesus christ, he literally might beat my ass.’ but when you’re around, they might think, ‘why is that scary looking guy talking about cars and comic books rn??’

you bring out the nerd in him in the best way possible🫶😊 BECAUSE THAT MEANS HE LIKE LIKES YOUUUUUUU

and it’s so obvious to the gang bc wdym steve told you all about DC comics while all they got was a ‘yeah, it’s alright.’ …hm…..

soda NEVER shuts the fuck up and him and his little girlfriend. NEVERRREE

“why’re you so pouty today? y/n ain’t say hi?”

“bro, shut up!”

steals for you and gives them to you all proud like he paid for it LMFAO

tries to be sooo cool around you but the second you bring up the latest batman comic he’s all “OMGOMGOMGOMG IT WAS SOO GOOD!! DID YOU SEE THE-“ he’s a loser what can i say.

dallas totally flirts with you in front of steve just to piss him off LOLLL like when he sees dallas twirling your hair around his finger steve is just all “???🤨🤨😡😡”

and then becomes your knight in shining armour and swoops you away as he glares daggers at dally!!!!<3

Two-bit Mathews

he becomes the funniest man on the planet i’m not joking

he says jokes that anybody and everybody will laugh at. just because he wants to see you laugh at what he says for his delusions

two-bit thinks like ‘she laugh=she likes me’

he’s not the brightest but it’s okay

HE MAKES IT SOOO KNOWN THAT HE LIKES YOU LFMAOOOOOO

“you’re lookin’ pretty? who’s the fella?” / “gee, i didn’t believe when they said they seen an angel walkin’ around until now.” / “well, now you owe me dinner.”

shit like that

two thinks he’s soooo smooth…smh.

DALLAS AND PONYBOY SO BADLY WANTS HIM SHUT THE HELL UP ALREADY ABOUT YOU LMFAOOO

they keep on telling him just to confess already but then two gets all giggly and shy and goes “omg guys noooo🤭🤭🤭🫣🫣”

just coincidentally runs into you everywhere you go!!! (literally has eyes everywhere. he’s weird. he’s odd.)

follows you around like a lost puppy and lowkey kinda gossips. idk.

[kaijime]

watch your mouth

includes. osamu miya x f!reader

cw. corruption kink, virgin reader/first time, osamu wants to breed u <33, dubcon, kitchen sex? [it’s in his shop so?], fingering, pierced dick [prince albert piercing], vaginal penetration, size kink, praise kink, tummy bulge, breeding kink, slight dumbification, creampie, thigh slapping?

wc. 3k

a/n. my piece for @seita’s corrupt-a-virgin collab, thank you for letting me join!!

osamu miya likes to think he follows a strict routine. he wakes up early, shows up for his job, works, and goes home, waiting for tomorrow to arrive and the cycle to repeat itself.

but ever since you've entered his restaurant, you've become a part of his routine.

he sits behind the kitchen counter, watching in admiration how you tend to the customers. he'd be lying if he said he wasn't staring at your ass, but it’s not a lie if he doesn't say it right?

"samu?" there's that nickname again, the one you deemed him ever since that interview for the part time job. "this customer says you forgot to give her a part of her order"

"no i didn't"

"yeah, look" you approach him with the receipt in hand, pointing to a small part of the inked writing. "see?"

he can't see. or at least he can't see the receipt. he's too focused on you, pressing up against him. he knows you're not at fault, but you couldn't be that innocent.

you couldn't be innocent enough to not know the things you were doing to him, the things you were making him feel, the urges that blossomed with every lingering look and longing touch you left on his body. you just couldn't be.

right?

yet, even when his idiotic brother dropped by his shop and shamelessly started flirting with you, you, it seemed like you didn't catch onto what he was doing.

"what's the freakiest place you've ever had sex in?" the fake blond asked, and osamu would've stopped him, if he wasn't curious to hear the answer for himself. still, he doesn't drive his full attention away from the counters he's been wiping, seemingly focused on the simple task.

you chuckled awkwardly under your breath. "that's inappropriate, tsu-"

"c'mon, tell me" he bumps his elbow against yours "can't be that bad"

"no i-... i've never uhm..." osamu can tell you're stumbling and stuttering to find an answer, so he lends you a few helping words.

"'tsumu” he calls "will ya stop harrassin' my employees?"

"'m just talkin' to her samu, no need to make a big fuss" he downs the last of his food and leaves, supposedly in a sudden rush.

it doesn't seem like it’s been hours since then, but the moon hangs low, and the crickets sing outside the window in spite of the late hour. despite the passing of time, not a single word has been said between you and your boss about the conversation you had with his brother, and every minute that passes only seems to thicken the tension between the two of you.

"shit" you mumble, mostly to yourself. you didn’t expect him to shoot up from his place, bent down searching through the lower cabinets.

"watch yer mouth" he says, an evident frown on his face, where he would once smile at you and nod in greeting.

"sorry" you reply, lip pouting slightly while you cleaned off your finger with a paper towel "just got a papercut" the blood tints the paper red and you wince at the stinging sensation.

"here" he holds out his hand to examine yours, even though you already cleaned most of it off, there's still a slight trickle of blood. he wipes it out with the towel he always hangs on his shoulder.

as he cleans your hand, he can't help but think about how it'd look so pretty wrapped around his cock. it would certainly bring more relief than his fist after all this time he's spent thinking about you while stroking himself late at night.

it’s not the first time thoughts like these cloud osamu's mind, but this time he's a little less discreet about it. he stares at your hand like he wants to devour it, and you'd be a fool not to notice it.

"samu?" you call out to his faraway mind, and he snaps out of his thoughs, loosening his grip around your hand.

"right" he mumbles, clearing his throat "sorry"

"thank you" you almost whisper, if he wasn't so close to you, he probably wouldn't have heard it.

he turns and goes back to the cabinets, thinking about what you answered earlier. you'd never what? had sex? were you that uncorrupted?

it would make sense to him, and it would help ease the pain of seeing you let his brother flirt with you like he wasn't even there, but those are all selfish reasons he wants to believe, and he's too scared to ask.

apparently not scared enough.

“what were ya talkin’ about with my brother” he asks, nonchalant as ever, making your breath hitch as you turned around hesitantly.

“we were just chatting” you say, the slightest purse on your lips that tried to relieve the nervousness of the conversation.

“sorry about that” he apologizes. “he can be annoyin’ sometimes”

“oh no, he wasn’t” you lie, clenching around the table cloth you held in your hands. even if the talk had been going smoothly, you still felt on edge after the question his brother left you thinking about. “he was really friendly”

“really?” his hands find comfort in his pockets, and if you’d looked close enough, you would’ve seen the slight smirk in his lip, one that indicates how eager he is to hear what you had to say. “then why didn’ you answer his question?”

if only you knew how much it mattered to him, to know if you were a pretty untouched virgin or not. osamu miya likes to go for girls like you, college girls who look for a quick cashgrab as a part time employee, innocent little girls who unknowingly fall for his charms and next thing you know he’s ruining them with his cock.

but you feel different, you feel delicate. like a pretty piece of porcelain he might break if he continues to toy with you under his calloused hands. yet, he can’t help but think about how perfect he finds your body. perfectly ripe and ready to be filled to the brim with his seed, the perfect age to be plump and round with a child. his child.

“does it matter?”

oh, it does, especially when he pins you against the counter and grips your cheeks between his thumb and his index finger. “samu?” you ask, displaying that innocent look on your face he’d grown to hate.

“i told ya to watch yer mouth” his hands roam down your body until they grab at the back of your thighs. “now jump”

“samu i- i’ve never done anything like-“

“i said jump” hesitant with your actions, you jump and wrap your legs around his waist as he settles you on the shop counter, where he takes off your pants and runs a finger over your clothes slit.

“please” you grip his wrist and beg in hopes for him to stop, but he slaps it away, pinning them behind you with his other hand. he slides your panties down your legs and plays with your clit, circling the nub with his fingertips and watching as your expression changes from one of fear to pleasure.

“please what?” his breath shudders against your neck, where he nuzzles his head and finds comfort in your scent. he slowly inserts a finger into your hole, scanning your face and searching for any signs of discomfort, despite him practically forcing you into this position.

you’re not strong enough to answer him, too lost in the way his fingers feel inside you. you’d been too afraid to do anything by yourself, but god did it feel so good when you gave yourself up to him, slightly bucking your hips into his thrusting fingers and arching your back into his frame.

he’s fond of every little expression you make, the bite of your lips, the clench of your thighs around his hand, and the tilt of your head, willingly granting him access to the skin, all for him to mark, bite and suck. all for him to claim as his.

“d’ya like it?” he asks, putting another one of his fingers to use inside your tight walls, feeling them clench and suck his fingers back inside every time he was close to taking them out.

“yes! yes! i-i... mmh!” you can’t even finish the sentence, not only because you’re sobbing and clenching around his digits uncontrollably at the foreign yet pleasurable sensation, but also because his lips suddenly enclosed yours in a hungry kiss.

he didn’t even have to put up a fight with you, pleased to find you let him do whatever he wanted with your mouth. his tongue tangles with yours in a passionate clash of lips, until he pulls away at the feeling of your hips wildly bucking against his hand, a sign of your inevitable orgasm approaching.

“feels weird ‘samu! ‘s-‘samu please!” the implication of your sensations being new to you made his cock strained against his pants, threatening the thick fabric of his jeans to snap if he grew even harder. the tight knot in your stomach finally snaps when he curls his fingers, sending you into ecstasy as your vision blocked out and you moaned uncontrollably loud.

still, after everything, osamu hasn’t forgotten where he is, and he knows his shop isn’t a decent place to lose your virginity. so he puts you down with shaky legs and slips up your panties, catching you before your trembling thighs can treason you and make you fall.

“do ya have a car here?” he says, grabbing his keys from the counter and puts a hand on your hip, guiding you over to the door which he locks before he continues to walk to his car. the dim lighting of the parking made this the perfect spot, if he were to fuck you in his car, no one would see it. but he has self control, or at least he tells himself that.

“no, my friend usually picks me up” he hums an answer and opens the passenger door to his car.

“i live a few minutes from here” he explains “wanna come over?” he asks, fully aware that he’s taking a leap of faith and you could just refuse him. but that’s not the case, and he’s more than happy to see you hesitantly get in his car and put your bag in your lap, covering yourself as much as you can since he ‘forgot’ to give you back your shorts.

the short ride to his house is awkwardly silent, and terribly torturous. his hand had found home in your thigh, and it had only sent an ache between your legs like you’d never felt before, prompting a clench from your thighs every so often.

he wasn’t lying, he only lived ten minutes away from his shop, but the distance seemed so much longer when his lingering touch would leave you high with the need for more.

“you ready?” he asks, holding the door open for you again as he waits for you to take his hand and get out of his car. he’s quick with hoisting you up and wrapping your thighs against his hips, carrying you to his doorway and leading the way to his room. there, he gently placed you on the bed and stripped off his clothing, taking off the apron he should’ve taken off at the shop, his shirt, his pants and—

“eager?” he can see the wanting look in your eyes, he’d be a fool not to notice it. his voice only startles you out of your thoughts, enough to make you stand up and take off your shirt as well, now fully exposed to him if it weren’t for the bra covering up your tits. there’s only so much he can hold back, but right now, with those pretty puppy eyes you unintentionally give him, he just can’t help it when he takes off your bra and slightly suckles at your nipple, circling his tongue around your perky nub and watching your face warm up in embarrassment.

he takes you to his bed again, this time while he plants kisses all over your neck. he’s hungry with the way he nips and bites at the skin, leaving a trail of teeth marks that would need to be covered up in the morning. in the morning, because right now, you couldn’t be bothered to care about anything else other than the way he rutted against you.

his cock already seemed big when he hadn’t taken off his briefs, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when he slipped them off and rubbed his tip against your clit, right?

he was huge, thick tip dripping precum, with a girth that looked too big to be real, pulsing against your pussy. he positions it against your drooling hole, using your slick to lube up his tip and feeling— metal?

you sit up, leaning against your elbows to see the prince albert piercing that runs along his tip, metal jewelry threatening to slip into your pussy, but you put a hand on his chest to stop him.

“i-it won’t fit!” you kick and shake your thighs around him, only for him to put your ankles together and fold your legs over his shoulder, pinning you down and slipping in the pierced head of his cock. you wince and gasp at the sudden stretch, silenced by his mouth clashing against yours, eagerly nipping at your bottom lip, desperate to drink in all your saccharine moans.

“good girl” he praises, slipping in inch by inch of his cock into your tight virgin walls “fuck- this tight little cunt is suckin’ me in, want ma cock princess? yeah? gonna stuff ya full of me ‘til ya can’t even speak, you’ll just be a dumb baby for me”

“hurts!” your words only drive him closer to shoving himself in one smooth thrust, but he holds back, he sees how much you struggle to take barely half of him, he wants to make this good for you to. he wants to make your first time your best time, the one you’ll remember and think about if you ever fuck another man. he wants to mold your insides to fit his cock perfectly, he wants to train you to be his perfect little girl who won’t find another way to get off if she doesn’t have his cock, he wants you to depend on him to always make you feel good.

“‘s ok princess” he leans down, folding you into a mating press as he kisses your neck and slips in the last of his cock, covered in a thin layer of white sheen. “my good girl, creamin’ around me” he mumbles against your ear while he starts a slow pace into your pussy, carefully rutting his hips into you, almost afraid he would break you. “so pretty”

“please!” you sob, tears stream down your face despite his carefulness, it would break his heart, but he can feel the way your own body betrays you, clenching around him and pulling him in for more of the delicious sensation of his cock dragging against your walls. “so big! c-can’t take it!”

“sure ya can, look” he puts a hand to your tummy, guiding you to do the same as he puts his hand over yours. there’s a small bulge, that appears and disappears whenever he thrusts in and out. “you’re takin’ it so well princess, keep yer hand right there” his other hand starts working tight circles against your clit, making you throw back your head at the sudden sensation.

“no! if you do that i-!”

“what are ya gonna do? cum? clench around my cock like yer doin’ right now every time i praise ya?” you fist the sheets to your sides, anything to relieve the aching between your legs and the tight knot that keeps forming in your stomach again.

“please don’t!” you desperately paw at his wrist, only to be slapped away and for him to increase the speed of his cock, rutting into your with more force. suddenly, the head of his piercing hits a different spot, one that left you gasping for air and arching your back against the mattress. “ah! right there- right there ‘samu!”

“yeah? you like it when i fuck ya right there?” he parrots, angling his hips at the same spot over and over, abusing it until he’s sloppily thrusting into you, on the verge of cumming and spilling all his load into you. “my pretty girl, moanin’ like a bitch in heat, all because i’m makin’ ya feel good”

“yes ‘samu! please please, please m-make me feel good! wanna cum, please!” fresh tears roll down your cheeks as you scream and beg for him, unwillingly rutting your hips against him as you cum around his cock, your high too much for your sensitive body as you whine uncontrollably when he doesn’t stop. you’re too overstimulated to say a word, gone too dumb on his cock to even realize that you’re babbling little nonsense words about how good you feel, and how much you want him.

“dumb lil’ thing” he says, giving one sharp, final thrust before he empties his load between your legs, deep inside you, careful not to move you too much in fear of his cum spilling out of your clenching hole.

he’s right, you are a dumb little thing, because as soon as he pulls out you’re desperately bucking your hips, blindly searching for him in hope he would fill up the sudden emptiness in your pussy, unintentionally spilling all his hard work between your thighs.

“no!” he grunts, slapping your thigh and grounding you to the mattress as you wince in pain, dark color blossoming at the skin where he’d placed the spank. “look what you’ve done, bad fuckin’ girl” he says, the sudden tone shift sends a tinge of fear all over your body, and you’re reduced to nothing but a kin to a stray puppy, a terrible look of guilt in your eyes, even if you don’t realize what you’ve done wrong.

“look at the mess you made” he mumbles, flipping you over and placing ass up “now i’m gonna have to fill ya up all over again”

©️ kaijime 2021 | all content belongs to kaijime, do not modify or repost

[monaisdark]

Ok ok, just hear me out, I haven’t read any one shot or story with knife play and like, I’m kinda into that shit, no judgment plz, um but for my request I would love a dominant reader who’s a villain, paired with literally anyone, I literally just want femdom with a knife plz 🖤 I really like your content 🖤

FEMDOMS WITH KNIFES FEMDOMS WITH KNIFES THANK YOU !! decided to do some bakugou because yknow what - that man needs to be put in his place by a sexy villain lady goddammit !! also, dw about judgement here ‘cus there is a 90% chance im into it :’) ofc thank u for the ask bc yall’s brains >>> 

➨ paring — Pro Hero! Katsuki Bakugou x Fem! Villain! Reader

➨ warnings —  dubcon, Sub! Bakugou, Dom! Reader, knife play, blood play, begging, handcuffing

Bakugou didn’t know what even led up to this. It was late at night and he was on patrol, he does this all the time! Yet, you got him. He didn’t even have time to react before his gauntlets were knocked out of his hands, cuffs were put on him, and connected the chain attached to the cuffs to a fence in the alleyway.

“You fucking bitch!” He yelled, immediately trying to activate his quirk but it only amounted to a few sparks. “Huh?! —“

“Quirk cancelling cuffs. Crazy the things the black-market sells.” You lifted the hood of your coat, getting a little too close for Bakugou’s comfort. “Dynamight, huh? I was expecting more of a fight for a Pro Hero.” You were taunting him, the sounds of sparks echoing throughout the empty alleyway.

“Y’know, that’s the definition of insanity — doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.” A laugh left your lips, as Bakugou scowled, “You’re the crazy bitch here! What the hell do you want!?” Your tone darkened, grabbing his face. “Stop yelling, I might have to put a gag in your mouth.”

Bakugou couldn’t help but shudder, your touch was cold. And your eyes staring into his didn’t help him stay calm. Bakugou hasn’t felt this vulnerable in a long time. You captured him so easily, how has he never heard of you?

“The smart ones lurk in the shadows. Bet you didn’t even hear me!” You were back to laughing his face, you were able to read him so easily. He growled curses under his breath, thrashing around. “Ah, don’t be like that. I haven’t even done anything to you... yet.” 

“You low-life! Take these cuffs off and fucking fight me!” That was it, you pulled out a scary-looking knife, “A lot of people want you dead, I’m sure you know. If I were someone boring, you’d be lying in your own blood right now.” Bakugou could feel the tip of the knife though the fabric of his hero costume on his chest, his breath hitched. There was nothing he could do. 

“Mhm... even with quirks, I don’t think anything beats a good ol’ knife.” Bakugou could see the blood that stained the knife, you’ve used it before. “I’d rather have some fun with you, y’know? Not everyday you get to capture such a great hero.”  

“What the hell are you talkin — !“ A lick. You licked his collarbone, “Aha! You are so cute.” Bakugou froze up, he wasn’t expecting this. He tried to hold back a gasp when you started palming him. You were crazier than he thought.

“Shit, stop... stop this!” He wanted to move, just enough to kick you in the chest to get you away from him, but the knife was pressed so closely to him. Any more movement and he would have it piercing his chest. And even then, he’s still cuffed and chained, how will he fight you? “Ah, stop? But you’re getting hard, what monster would I be to give you blue balls?” You giggled in his ear.

It wasn’t long before you were crouching before him, the knife moving from his chest to his lower  abdomen, “Get the fuck away from me! I’ll fucking kill you!” Bakugou tried to cling onto his power. He didn’t expect you to listen, but like hell he’d let you get away with this so easily.

A smile spread on your face as you took his semi-hard dick out of his pants. “Such words for someone who’s turned on.” Bakugou’s breath hitched, damn his body for responding to you. “Don’t...don’t do anything — shit!” You were stroking him, bringing your mouth close to his head to give him kitten licks. He cursed as he felt himself grow fully hard now under your touch, much to his dislike.

“I have to say, you’re impressive. Now — “ You pressed the knife down on the exposed skin of his lower abdomen, Bakugou could feel a small blood trickle down from there. “Don’t try to fight back right now. I’d rather not plunge my knife into you right now.” You pushed him onto the cold concrete ground, moving his trapped hands above his head. 

Everything was rushing over Bakugou, he wasn’t one to not fight back. But the knife paired with your quick movements and those damn cuffs, he’s weak. Weaker then he ever imagined himself being around a villain like you. You crawled on top of him, not wasting time on removing your panties and hoisting your skirt up. You sat on his lap, his cock against the fabric of your skirt.

He could still feel the blood from his abdomen trickle down, a wince coming from him as he felt another small slice go with his previous one. “Sorry! Couldn’t help myself.” Your voice was oddly smooth, it was like it was tickling Bakugou’s every being. Maybe it was the blood rushing through his body but he couldn’t deny you were attractive. Bakugou tended to focus on his hero work, he had no time for women even as a Pro Hero. 

Bakugou was becoming puddy in your hands, your gloved hand stroking him as the knife trailed his torso, a small a trail of blood being left behind. He tried to hold his panting, but he couldn’t help it. It made it worse seeing you lift yourself from his lap, not wasting time on plunging yourself on him.

“Ah, aha... A snug fit, right?” Bakugou was fully a mess now, you felt amazing. “No... shit — get... get off! You...you bitch!” He didn’t want you to stop. His pride was getting over him, what if someone saw him? He was a Pro Hero - a damn good one as well - and he let a villain with cuffs and a knife get the best of him? He should hate this, yet his pants and moans were showing otherwise. He was even bucking his hips slightly!

“You’re so mean!” Bakugou winced as he felt stinging again, this time on his upper thigh. You cut him again. “Say sorry.” You demanded, your knife teasing another slice to his thigh. Bakugou stayed quiet, clenching his jaw as he felt you going up and down on him. “Say sorry!” This time you were louder, another stinging pain hit Bakugou, a second cut to match the previous one on his thigh.

Bakugou couldn’t even open his eyes or mouth, how pitiful did he look right now? Say sorry? You’re the one doing this to him! You were making him such a mess, he’s the one that’s supposed to be stronger! 

“How childish. You can’t even say two words yet you’re panting like a dog right now! Let’s see...” Bakugou felt you stop moving and the knife move to his neck, he wanted to curse. You can’t tease him like this. “I wanted this to be fun but you can’t just let your stupid superiority complex go, huh?” Friction, he needed friction desperately. The knife was cold like you, but your cunt was so warm. Please just forget about it and move, wasn’t tying him up enough?

“Fuck... move, just move.” He didn’t want to have to beg, that’ll confirm you have the upperhand. “Mhmn, not until you say sorry —” You stopped for a second, a devious smile forming, “...Actually, if you want me off you so bad...” You lifted yourself off of him slowly, teasing him as he could no longer feel your soft insides around him. 

God, he hated this. He was so hard it hurts, a string of pre-cum was forming at his tip. He was sweaty and red despite the weather being cool. You still sat on him, even without him inside you, he could feel your soaked, warm core that contrasted your body. Your eyes staring down on him like he was a deer and you were a hunter. You wanted him to beg. 

Bakugou struggled to form a sentence, he was out of breath and half lidded. Words that he never would have expected himself to utter came out, “Inside... back inside. I’m sorry! P-Please, please, put it back in!” A tight, warm feeling engulfed around Bakugou’s cock again, he missed it. A smile spreaded on your face, not one of deviance but one of joy, “Ahah, you see? How hard was that?” You removed the knife from his neck and opted to trailing it along his lower stomach. 

You beat him, Bakugou was enjoying this. He didn’t care that you were a villain anymore, or how you had the upper hand in all this. Hell, you could use that knife all you wanted on him! Just bounce on his cock, that’s all he wants.

He could feel you pulling him in every time you thrusted yourself on him and Bakugou was brought to the edge each time. He was beginning to twitch and you seemed to notice too, slowing down to drag out the feeling you gave him. “Do you want to cum inside?” He nodded profusely, “Use your words.” He has to beg to cum? He truly has to give up all his control.

“Please! Ah! Cum inside... let me cum inside!” Bakugou was loud, it was a surprise nobody ventured into the alley with all the sounds of skin slapping and moans. Perks of shitty, small neighborhoods. Nobody gave a fuck. Not that he wanted anyone to see this anyways, this was certainly a way to be ‘defeated’ by a villain.

“Go ahead — you’ve been so good.” You left the knife on his stomach but with the way Bakugou was breathing, the tip of the metal could poke him still. You let him buck his hips into yours, leaning down to grab his head with your free hands to give him a kiss on the forehead. He wasted no time in filling you up, the way you continued to bounce on him despite him cumming already brought him over the edge to another orgasm. 

After what felt like hours of warmth and tightness, Bakugou was a mess. Everything was clouded in his head, he just came in a villain. And he liked it.

He could the weight of your body get off of him, grabbing the knife from his stomach and tucking it in your coat pocket. Bakugou cursed himself for missing your touch, the cold from the air was different from the cold of your body and knife. “Be good and don’t do anything, hm?” You dangled the keys to the cuffs and chain above him. He nodded — not like he would anyways, he was smitten. 

As you uncuffed him, Bakugou didn’t even try to attack you, which was great for you. He didn’t say anything, looking at the ground though his breath was heavy. He felt a piece of fabric fall on his lap, your panties. “Parting gift.” You laughed but Bakugou felt his stomach begin to turn. As you walked away without another word, he could feel panic build up slightly — he still knew nothing about you. 

He wasn’t mad like he should be. He wanted to see you, feel you. All he could do for now was hold the fabric close... the thought of you still fresh in his mind.

[bolontiku]

“An Avenger”

Chapter 3

Work Drabble - Avengers AU

Characters: Mutant!reader, Tony, Bucky, Steve

Word Count: 815

************

“So?”

You sucked in a shuddering breath as he wrapped the bandages around your wrist, further up your forearm. “I-” you looked away as he looked at you, “you ever? It’s like when you are walking and suddenly you can’t breathe?”

“Like the world swallows you up, but there’s the screaming in your head no one else can hear?”

You looked at him, “yes…”

“And the way they look at you,” he placed medical tape over the end of the bandage. “Why- why don’t you just heal yourself?” he asked sitting against the counter opposite you. 

You looked around the kitchen, “nice place you got here.”

“Deflecting,” he growled at you.

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Then why are you here?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I just,” you licked your lips, shoving away the image of Bucky’s disapproving glare. Hateful words, the ache that was ingrained deep in your bones, anger darkening your soul. “I just…” you shook your head, “I should go.”

He caught you as you stood, arm wrapping around your neck, pulling you in, your hands falling against his chest, his hand buried in your hair, “we will always be here. You don’t have to kill yourself for us, we won’t judge you or expect everything from you.”

“Nnmmgh!”

He sighed, listening as you whimpered, fighting the sobs that had torn your soul, the pain that wracked your body. “You’ll let them kill you? We’re not so bad… nobody asked you to be a superhero dummy.”

But you deserved this, you couldn't even save one small child- “can I..?” you buried your face in his chest as your voice broke.

“Just fuckin’ cry, I won’t say anything.”

And as you stood there in his embrace, he didn't, his familiar presence a soothing balm to your soul. The broken sobs leaving you breathless as you leaned into him, fingers curling in his shirt.

Criminals, villains, the bad guys, these were the ones you had left, they were the ones that had smiled as you declared that you were going to be a good guy, a hero.

They were the ones that opened their doors, readily welcoming you back into their homes. 

**

"She did it on purpose!"

You flinched as Tony pushed you behind him, Steve pushing Bucky backwards, "c'mon Buck, what did we talk about?"

"ITS HER DAMNED JOB!" He cried out, "you could've done it sooner, but you left me out there injured! DO YER DAMNED JOB ON TIME!! BE EFFECTIVE!!"

"Do you think you're the only one out there?!" You cried angrily from behind Tony, "there are also civilians out there that had been injured, I cannot be expected to follow you around, making sure that you stay in prime condition- don't be an ignorant fuck!"

Tony snorted, turning and catching you round the waist, "she has a point, she's not your personal healer."

Bucky growled as Tony stalked away with you in his arms. Glaring at Steve who had pushed him back, "WHAT?!"

"Buck… you are going to get along with her. She has these powers and I don't understand why you hate her so much."

"Steve! She keeps dropping the ball, first that kid, then today! She needs to step up or back off, we don't need her around."

Steve chewed on his bottom lip, looked at Bucky with disappointment. "Losing that kid hit bad huh?"

Bucky scowled, turning away from him and cursing, "ya don't know what your talkin' bout Stevie. That mutants gotta learn to be better!"

"Like Wanda?"

Bucky whirled around, "you cannot compare Wanda to that-!" he exclaimed motioning towards where you and Tony had disappeared.

Steve shook his head, “what is it with you and her Buck? Why won’t you tell me?” Bucky shook his head, “fine, you're grounded, no missions until you can say something nice, apologize and learn how to work effectively with the team.”

“It’s not me, it's her!!”

Steve shoved Bucky backwards, “ya heard me, effective immediately, I’ll figure out who will take over your missions you got coming up. Deal with it!”

**

Tony followed you out, once he sweet you down, hurrying to catch up as you made your way down towards the car lot, “where are you going?”

You shook your head, “I have to get out of here for a while,” you stopped as he ran to the other side of the car, “please… just, I need some alone time away from here.”

Tony sighed, leaning over the roof of the car, “you break it, you bought it.”

You nodded, smiling tightly as he stepped back, letting you climb into the car and watched as you drove out and away. “FRIDAY keep an eye on her, if she gets into a wreck let me know and be ready to have a med unit deployed."

“Of course Tony.”

“Thank you sweet thing.”

[ld-fc]

im not even that far into the episode, but first off,

i woulda turned my ass around and went back to the house, cuz who tf finna be chasin this girl all around the street at night? nilsa bein extra asf and makin shit about her like always, like girl them mfs was not fightin over u. dramatic ass, bitch the door

second of all, the whole fight was stupid asf. that ‘florida boys are garbage’ comment did not warrant a fight and the dude wasnt talkin about ALL florida boys, he literally said that. if it dont apply to u, why get mad? all gus really did was kinda prove the dudes point, actin all buck and shit, lyin and tryin to make it seem like the dude was talkin specifically to him, WHICH HE WASNT. and i dont know who tf gus thinks he is, but if they do fight, my money is on jeremiah. like gus, go sit tf down lil boy

[dannydevitosheight]

Headcanon that Bucky only talks to Old Steve with Avril Lavigne Lyrics

Steve, right before he went back in time: So I’m going to purposely go back to 1945 so I can be with Peggy.

Bucky: But you’re so fine I want you mine you’re so delicious. I think about you all the time, you’re so addictive. Don’t know what I can do to make ya feel alright?

Steve: I--

Bucky: Don’t pretend I think you know I’m DAMN PRECIOUS. and HELL YEAH, I’m the MOTHERFUCKIN’ PRINCESS. I can tell you like me too and I know I’m right

Steve: but, Peggy...

Bucky: she’s like,,sooo whatever. You could dooo, so much bet-teerrr

I THINK we shOUld gET togeTHER NO-OOOW N THAT’S WHAT EVERYONE’S TALKIN’ ABOUT

Bucky, after Steve misses his chance to return to the present: All this TIME yOU wERe pRETENDIN

S O  MUCH FOR MY HAPPY ENDING 

Bucky, after Steve gives his shield to Sam: Are you aware of what you make me feel? Baaay-beee 

Right now I feel invisible to you

likeI’mnot 

re-EA-EA-eal

Steve: Aw Buck--

Bucky, leaning in: DiDN’t YOu FEEL me LOCk my aRMs aRounD You?

WHY’D you turn awa-aay?

Here’s what I have to sa-aaay;

I was left to cry tHERE WAITIN’ OUTSIDE THERE, GRINNIN’ WITH A LOST STARE THAT’S WHEN I DECIDED 

Steve: Bucky-

Bucky, yelling in Steve’s face: WHYYYYY SHOULD I CAAAAAAAARE?

‘CAUSE YOU WEREN’T THERE,,WHEN I WAS SCARED.

I WAS SO AAALLOOOOOONE.

Steve: Hey come on, you know how I feel about Peggy-

Bucky, grabbing Steve by his shirt collar: YOU!

YOU NEED TO LISTEN

I’M STARTIN’ TO TRIP

I’M LOSIN’ MY GRIP N I’M IN THIS THING ALONE.

Bucky, after noticing Steve’s Wedding Ring: Was I just some chick you placed beside you to take somebody’s place?

Steve: wait what

Bucky: When you turn aro-ound can you recognize my FA-EA-EA-EACE?

you uSED TO LOVE ME 

YOU USED TO HUG ME 

but that wasn’t the ca-ase 

EVERYTHING WASN’T OKAY-AAY.

Bucky, holding a boombox outside Old Steve’s window:

IT’S A    DAMN    C   O   L  D     N I G H T 

TRYNA FIGURE OUT   T H I S   L I F E

WON’T YOU 

TAKE ME BY THE HAND, TAKE ME SOMEWHERE NEW 

I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU ARE

BUT I

I’M WITH YOU--

*shouting over music* -- ‘TIL THE END OF THE LINE

Steve: Yeah, being married to Peggy was--

Bucky: ALL OF THE MEM-OR-RIES 

SO CLOSE TO ME JUST FAAaaaAADE AWAAAY

ALLTHISTIME YOU WERE PRETENDIN’ 

SO MUCH FOR  M Y  HAPPY ENDIN’

Steve: ,,,Bucky did you wanna talk about something

Bucky: IT’S NICE TO KNOW THAT YOU WERE THERE

THANKS FOR  A C T I N G  LIKE YOU CARED

AND MAKING ME FEEL LIKE I WAS THE ONLY OO-OONE

Steve: Uh, Buck-

Bucky, standing on a table: IT’S NICE TO KNOW WE HAD IT ALL.

T H A N K S FOR WATCHING AS  I 

F 

      A

              L 

                      L

AND LETTING ME KNOW WE WERE DOO-OOOONE.

Steve, looks to Sam to help, but Bucky immediately blocks Steve’s view and says to Sam, quietly: he was

e v           y            i  n g

       e  r        t h

e v           y            i  n g

      e  r        t h 

that I wanted,,,

Bucky, yelling: we WERE 

MEANT TO BE

SUPPOSED TO BE 

BUT WE LOST 

                                   T

                            I

                     I

                I

          I

     I

I

Steve, showing Sam pictures of Peggy: she’s so beautiful isn’t she

Bucky: in a sECond you’ll be WRAPPED arOUnd MY FINGER

‘Cause I CAN, ‘cause I CAN do it BET-TAH

tHERE’s NO OTHA

SO WHEN’S IT GONNA SINK IN?

SHE’S SO STUPID WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKIN’?

BONUS: 

Bucky’s Voicemail: If this is Steve calling:

DON’T CRY TO ME

IF YOU LOVED MEEE-EE

YOU WOULD BE HEEEEEEEEEREEEE WIIIIIIITH MEEEE

Y O U   W A N T   M E ?

COME FIND ME.

MAKE UP YOUR MIiiiIIIIiiiiiIIIIIiiiiiiIIIIIIiiiiIIIIiiiiiIIND

If this is Sam: YOU NEVER CALL ME WHEN YOU’RE SOBBBEEEEEERRRRRRRRR

[bbbb-barnes]

Who's she? - bucky barnes x reader

How Steve would describe you to a friend.

WARNINGS / swearing, drinking, drunk, rambling steve.

Bucky X Reader

This is always a narrative I've wanted to explore, I might do different ones for different personality traits/ characters etc just let me know what u think

You breezed down the stairs with tunnel vision, your eyes searching and scanning the dance floor for your boyfriend, you stopped at the bottom of the stairs to survey the room, but when you couldn't find the brooding solider you set off into the excited and tipsy crowd, your heels clipped as you decided to check the bar, your eyes did a quick sweep and your concentrated expression softened slightly when you caugh sight of Steve, leaning against the bar, in casual conversation with a pretty girl you didn't recognise, you effortlessly grabbed a glass of something from a passing waiter, giving him a bright smile and a sincere thank you and made a bee line for Steve.

"Hey, Steve" you greeted with a smile, he looked dapper in a fitted blue suit, very on brand.

"Hey you! Looking dashing" he gave you an over-enthused wink, followed by a little giggle. What a dork.

"As do you. Have you seen Buck anywhere?" You questioned, scanning the dance floor from your new vantage point.

"He's been looking all over for you, too" he laughed and took a sip from his flute.

"He's over there by the windows I think" he continued, giving you a mock shove in that direction, you grinned and held your glass up to him, he returned the gesture and you followed his directions, eager to see your boyfriend.

"Who's she?" The beautiful blonde, called Carol asked Steve, hers eyes following the girl across the dance floor.

"That's Y/N" Steve grinned, as he watched Y/N and Bucky reunite across the dance floor.

"Bucky's girlfriend?" Carol asked and Steve nodded, he'd had more than enough alcohol and while it didn't really effect him, he felt very gushy this particular evening.

"She's great, really great" Steve beamed as he watched his two friends laugh at something across the floor.

"They seem like polar opposites" Carol commented.

"Well, they are. Buck avoided her like the plague when she first started working for Stark" Steve chuckled and took a sip before continuing.

"She was loud, confident and talkative and he was a fuckin' cave dwelling, angry man, but she was patient with him, kind and loving and she gave him all the time in the world to let his walls down and now... Well he can't seem to pull himself away, I think she's his comfort blanket" Steve chuckled again, peeling his eyes away to look at the blonde young woman who worked administration for Stark industries, she smiled up at him, taking in his flushed cheeks and slightly glassy eyes.

"Wow, sounds like they have it all" She commended absentmindedly, watching the two again, who had taken to dancing, a little goofily on the dance floor, giggling at each other while doing so.

"I don't know, those two can fight, door slamming, screamin and shoutin kinda fights" he laughed and Carol joined in.

"I guess that comes with relationships" she agreed and he nodded his head.

"Y'know I didn't know much about relationships until I observed them. It's not all tooth rotting stuff, they make each other laugh and enjoy each other company, they aren't just a couple they're best friends and I think that's super important" He added wistfully, eye wanting around the room in a haze as he took the evening in.

"Sounds like you got the old Bucky back" She said carefully, not wanting to overstep the mark, Steve gave a sad smile and shook his head.

"I'll never get him back, that was James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th, loved his ma, his sister, tomato soup, cold ale and talkin' to all the ladies. This is Bucky Barnes, happy but not carefree, loves puppies, watching Brooklyn 99, going to the Dinner on 46th and her. He is who he is because of Y/N, I couldn't thank her enough even if I tried and my god, if anybody deserves it, it's him" He tipped his glass down and set it down at the bar a little too hard and the two giggled together.

"She's easy on the eyes too" Carol laughed and Steve joined in, watching as Bucky twirled Y/N in a circle, with a love sick grin on his face.

"Beautiful, inside and out' he commented, he turned to Carol, offering his hand.

"Would you like to dance?" He blushed a little whilst asking but Carol simply took his hand with a small grin and led him to the dance floor.

"Steve's getting some" you whispered into Bucky's ear and his head whipped up from the crook of your neck and followed your eye line, his face broke out into a cheeky grin.

"Thank god he finally stopped talking the ear off the poor girl" he joked and you both laughed and carried on dancing, keeping a sly eye on Steve and the pretty blonde from admin...

[wincestisasincest]

Murder in the Blue Morgue -- Part 4

Trigger warning: Verbal, and a little bit of physical abuse. Unpleasant family life in general.

Also, yay! America. We’re heeeeeeere!

Also, also, I realized that I write 2D’s accent a little inconsistently, but y’all know what he sounds like. I’ll try to get it right, of course, but yeah I’ve realized I missed it a little.

First chapter: https://twincestforthewincest.tumblr.com/post/181730682110/murder-in-the-blue-morgue-part-1?is_related_post=1

Second chapter: https://twincestforthewincest.tumblr.com/post/181756574650/murder-in-the-blue-morgue-part-2

Third chapter: https://twincestforthewincest.tumblr.com/post/181756696770/murder-in-the-blue-morgue-part-3

Let’s-a go!

Hey this is Stuart Pot right

Whos this

It’s ur kid Jo

Powell

Oh yea

So apparently my mom wants to take u to court anyway

Thought u would like to kno

What

She still needs some more money

Says ur not doing ur part

And apparently theres evidence that u missed payments

From other moms as well

Damn

Thanks luv

Np

Gl

////A week passes////

The apartment that stood before him looked like something straight out of an inspirational movie about inner city kids finding their voice, of course, written by people that had never actually gone into the city. The dilapidated building seemed near inhabitable, and looked to be more susceptible to squatters, not people who made an effort to pay rent. The bricks were jutting out in random places, looking like they were just barely keeping the building in place. The windows were cracked, with the ghoulish colors of the curtains on the other side making them incredibly off-putting. Even the fire escapes were so rusted and ramshackle in appearance that they looked like they would fall apart if any weight was put on them. It was almost comically broken and in pieces, stereotypical in nature. But, apparently, it was home to someone. “Well, it looks like 2D won’t be the first person murdered ‘ere.” Murdoc slithered out of the car, taking in the entire building, and somewhat enjoying himself. “They must’ve really been struggling if they can’t keep the rent up for this place,” Russel and Noodle clambered out of the back, approaching 2D as he gawked at the building in front of him, “Looks like one of those spots where drug deals happen.” “Hey now, that’s not always a bad thing.” Murdoc took another step forward. “Well, no point in standing ‘ere all day.” 2D walked forward towards the door, careful to pick a spot on the handle that wasn’t covered in some sort of unidentified substance. He pulled on the handle, caught off guard when it didn’t immediately open. He pulled again, with more force, still the door was stalled by its lock. “2A, was it?” Noodle approached 2D’s side. “Yeah, why?” Noodle’s well-manicured nail pressed on the buzzer as the ear-splitting noise rang out through the empty street. “It’s Joey Powell, who’s this?” A familiar, albeit distorted voice welcomed them on the meager speaker. 2D actually found the distortion somewhat comforting, as he was reminded of the Gorillaz musical style in the distortion. “Hey, Jo, it’s, uh, 2D. Can we come-“ “’D, ya gotta press on the button.” “Oh, sorry,” Buzz, “Hey, Jo, it’s uh, 2D. Can we come in? The band’s all ‘ere.” “Sure, hold on.” The speaker turned off, and another, louder buzz rang out, along with a click. 2D finally managed to open the door, and the band crowded into a musty hallway with a linear, uninviting stair case. 2D checked behind himself, knowing that the band wouldn’t leave him, but still wanting to be sure that he wasn’t going up the stairs by himself. 2D traipsed up the stairs, Noodle following suit, Murdoc taking time to gawk at the shoddy light fixtures in the apartment, and Russel slowly keeping Murdoc shambling forward. The stairs were carpeted with some poorly colored green and blue patches, looking like they had definitely seen better days, but also worse ones. The various mystery stains and white splotches that were sprinkled on the carpeting looked like they were ripped out of a crime scene, adding to the vibe of the building. They creaked their way past the first floor, and explored their way into the second floor, stopping in front of the scratched, wooden mess that was the entrance of apartment 2A. 2D gave a hesitant knock. “It’s open!” The same voice, this time muffled, yelled to them from inside the apartment. 2D pushed the door open. The first thing that hit him was the smell of the place, which was surprisingly homey, despite the depressed condition of the small apartment. There was a large central room, sporting a couch with clothes and a blanket strewn all over, a small television, a brief tiled interlude with kitchen equipment and a small table, and a large table in the back, with several sheets of paper stacked on top of it. It branched out into two smaller rooms, one with a half open door that contained a twin-size bed. The second thing that hit him was the heat, or rather lack of heat. The minute he stepped into the room, 2D began shivering, and instinctively zipped up his jacket. “Make yourselves at home, sorry about the cold.” 2D peered into the kitchen, containing the same girl who had visited Kong just a few weeks ago, this time resting on one of the countertops under the cabinets with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. A small ensemble of tools was at her side, and she appeared to be screwing something into one of the hinges of the cabinet, while supporting it with her other hand. “Where’s, uh, where’s Kathleen?” 2D tentatively took a step into the kitchen. “She’s, uh, supposed to be here right now, but she told me that she’s picking up dinner on her way home from work, whatever that means. Also,” She turned her head to the side, looking directly at him, “Why’re you here? And… how’d you find this address?” “Well, uh, I figured I would discuss the legal issues with your mum in person, I dun want her talkin’ about them behind my back or anyfing. And, um, Noodle and Russel just wanted to see you an’ Murdoc didn’ want ta be by ‘imself. I found the address in one of the legal files from my lawyer.” “So, wait, you flew all the way out here for this?” “Yeah, didn’ really have anyfing else to do, and I kinda wan’ this to be done wif for good. So, I figured I would come in person. ‘Specially seein’ as email isn’t really the best way to have legal conversations.” “And, how do you plan to tell her you found out about this?” “Oh, um, I hadn’t really fought about tha’ I just figured-“ “She’s not gonna be happy with me, even if this gets resolved. But, I guess you’re here already, so…” her voice trailed off as 2D looked at the floor, “Anyway, help yourselves to the fridge. We have some beer, I think, and there’s a sink if you want water. It’ll definitely be cold. Hey Noodle! Hey Russel!” Noodle and Russel continued their gander around the apartment, with Murdoc heading straight to the fridge and pulling out a beer. “’Ello, luv. I’m Murdoc Niccals, but you probably already know that,” He kept one eye trained on her, and used his other socket to snap the top off the beer bottle, “So you’re 2D’s, then?” “Apparently so.” 2D watched their conversation, ready to step in I anything were to happen. Murdoc had been nicer, recently, but that didn’t mean that he was more tasteful, especially when he was curious about something. “Wan’ some advice? Neva tell anyone. Ever. You’ll get a lo’ of fake friends, who just wanna talk to you so they can get a shot at meeting Murdoc Niccals.” “Already doin’ a good job at not telling anyone.” “Heh heh, I like this one, Dents. Mind if I smoke?” “I don’t, but mom might. But she’s also not here.” Murdoc pulled a box of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and lit one, offering one to 2D, who accepted. Noodle and Russel had sat down on the couch, both giving each other vaguely awkward looks as they were reminded of the squalid conditions that some people lived in. Of course, they’d both had hardships of their own, but it was easy to get used to luxury. There was always the slight, but noticeable, difference in living conditions that required a bit of adjustment. “What’re ya doin’ there, anyway?” Noodle questioned from the other side of the room. “Fixing the cabinet. Damn thing’s been broken for a week now,” Jo put one of the tools in her mouth while picking up another silvery instrument and a screw, still fiddling with the hinges of the cabinet, “We don’t even keep things in here, but the landlord is gonna charge us if it stays damaged for any longer.” She muttered through the screwdriver. “How did you break it?” “Mom had a wild night, apparently.” The keys in the door were jiggling, and the room went silent. The door was pushed open by a stout looking woman carrying a large purse, a bag of McDonald’s, and jingling keys being twirled around her finger. She took one look around the room, and sighed. “I figured I would see you again, Stu.” “Yeah, I kinda need to talk to you about somefing.” He took a long puff of his cigarette before looking at the floor again. “Lemme guess, you found out because of the waste of space over there?” She strolled into the kitchen and plopped the bag of McDonald’s on the table. “Sorry for not wantin’ to be in court for an extra two bucks. My priorities must be screwed or somethin’.” She slid off the top of the counter and investigated the bag of food. “The fries are for you.” “Ooh, a large. How generous.” She pulled out a container of fries and began to chomp away ravenously. “Hey, it’s not like you’ve been workin’ all day or anything.” “Actually, I have. I babysat for five hours and fixed all of the cabinets and the bedpost. And don’t you get free food at work, anyway?” “Yeah, but dealing with your shithead of a daughter is enough of a second job. ‘Specially when she’s goes behind your back to cover legal business that she’s not involved in.” “I’m literally the reason you have enough legal power to do any of this!” “Yeah, but you’re also the reason I’m so goddamn miserable, so keep your nose out of it, slut.” “Ooh, the walking sperm bank wants to talk about being a slut.” Her rejoinder was met with a slap upside the head as Jo quickly moved out of the kitchen. “And why the hell are all these other people here?” “They, um, they wanted to-“ “We wanted to see Jo and we were wondering if she could show us around town a little bit.” Russel interrupted 2D, knowing that there was already enough tension in the room. “Huh, first time for everything.” Kathleen shrugged. “Well yeah, usually people are too scared of you to come visit.” “Alright, let’s go, Jo. New Jersey’s got their diners, right?” Russel stood up, bringing Noodle with him and giving Murdoc a death glare as he began to walk towards the door. “Mom, I’m takin’ some of the money.” Jo peeked in the lockbox at the back of the drawer. “My ass you are.” “I earned half of it anyway. And don’t act like you were planning on paying for anything important with it. I wonder how many escorts 1700 dollars can buy anyway.” This rejoinder was met by Kathleen picking up Murdoc’s empty beer bottle and chucking it across the room. It shattered against the wall and Jo ducked. Noodle was shortly at her side, practically pulling her out of the room. “It’s okay, Ms. Powell, we’ll handle it. Murdoc, let’s go.” They had slammed the door behind them before either of the Powells could get out another word.

Man, we love those casually abuse relationships, don’t we?

Also, next chapter, plot, excitement, violence!

Get ready.

Also, thanks for everyone who’s made it this far.

[hella-free-space]

life update~

the fin kids: all doin pretty good :) beans (my halfmoon double tail male) has bitten some of his fins but they haven’t got any rot and he has SO MANY THINGS to rest on and he seems otherwise healthy so hopefully he doesn’t nibble any more <3 the guppies are mostly grown :O one female is rly big o.o i ended up with 4 females and one male, but he’s pretty colorful :3 love his blues ^-^ bubble (ct female betta) is forever wiggling and crystal (vt female betta) is big and graceful af. triton (delta tail male betta) is enjoying his new sponge filter. the inverts: FRIDAY FINALLY MOLTED!! so that’s cool :) but i can’t remove her molt :) because it’s in her webbed up cocoon of a corkbark tube :) el capitan died ;n; the first dwarf cray i had disapeared ._. so i decided to give the next one it’s own tank...since s/he had a sunken ship hide i named it el capitan. it molted and seemed okay but then i went away for 2.5 days over thanksgiving and i came back and it had passed :/ i did wc before i left and testing the water when i came back wouldn’tve helped since ammonia would’ve been spiked anyways. all i can think of is that it didnt eat enough after it had molted or not enough iodine or excess copper in my water...i’m gonna stay away from crays for a while :/ tbh i’m super bummed because i’ve wanted a dwarf cray since i started the hobby...maybe next year when we move i’ll get another but for now no more crays :/ tiny kitty: still very tiny .-. she’s nearly a year! her bday is in january :) she’s got shortish legs BUT CAN JUMP SO HIGH OML. TALKIN LIKE 5 FT VERTICAL HERE. and she’s very very fluffy. she loves crunchy treats v much. lulu: our dachshund mix :) excited about all her new toys! we cleaned out under the bed...and we found her hoard of junk e.e like socks and toys and stuff like that...we had an intervention and we’re working through this with her. she’s not afraid of her harness anymore (she’s a leash puller so harness > just collar) and she wants 100% of your attention. always. the cutest puppy-dog-eyes face; no human can resist.  the geck: skippy is doing well! she’s got a little nub now and her tail healed up just fine :) she does NOT like dubias but she loves to hunt for crickets! she sleeps in the funniest positions and i love her. she currently weighs 28g and i found a little gram scale at goodwill for $4 *0* so i’ll be able to track her weight now! :D possible future ham: i’ve been on and off researching hamsters and their care for about a year or so now and i’m finally into the more complicated stuff like nutrition and foods :3 i saw this suuuper cute little black and white syrian (which is the species i wanted!) and im hoping my hubs lets me get him for xmas :) cuz i’ve already started buying supplies :) took advantage of black friday/cyber deals week to pick up bedding (60L bags of carefresh are $10 on amazon rn yall! reg priced at about $20!), toys, chews, hides, treats, etc. i’ve messaged someone about a 12″ wheel (they’re like 20-30 bucks reg price so HOPEFULLY they’ll sell it separately from their stuff for 5-10 cuz that’d be a steal!) and i’ve found a cute sand bath container :) the last things on my list are: staple diet, water bottle (petco, $5), 12″ wheel, sand, sand bath, small corner litter box, screen mesh for bin. he’ll have a bin cage (650 sq in rn) since its most cost effective...the plan is to have 2 bins on top of each other (1300 sq in total) to give him more floor space but not take up any more room in the apt since there’s not a lot left tbh ^-^” probably the bottom will have deep bedding for him to burrow in and the top bin will have a thinner layer :p so anyways he’s black and white and i might name him oreo but who knows~ possible future ratties: my mom has 4 rats in a double critter nation and she takes awesome care of them :) but she feels like she doesn’t give them enough time out of the cage (their cage has plenty of enrichment tho, no worries there) so she said if i had the time/room i could take them when we move back to san antonio :D she also said i can just keep the cage and all the supplies after they’ve passed :O she also said i could have her planted 10 gallon when she rehomes the fish ;u; which means an awesome upgrade for my little bubbles! basically she just wants to have their chihuahua (which my lil sisters BABY. they had matching halloween costumes and they’re goals af.) from now on since she’s gotten really busy and she’s basically giving me all of her pet supplies for free o.o i feel so hella blessed to have such a rad mom (and not just cuz she gives me stuff~ she’s always been rad <3)

[dirtyfruit]

today our bus was delayed at a stop where you have to wait outside and it was frosty and windy and everyone was cold, and this girl talked the whole time on her phone about how she was better than everybody there and didn't belong with all "these ugly people" and how she paid NINE WHOLE DOLLARS!! extra for her shitty ass bus seat to be late, and tbh she was annoying the piss outta me but w/e i figure i'll just sit away from her

bus shows up, everyone's sorting out luggage, girl tries to swing around in front of me in line

thought #1: whatever, we're getting on the same damn ass bus, it's one spot in line, who cares thought #2: this bitch really thinks she's so much better than me that she can just jump in front of me when we're all cold and tired standin out here, just cause she spent more money on a seat that's exactly 1 foot more toward the front than mine?? and i'm gonna let her do it???

normally thought #1 wins out but i'd just got done with Homeless Man With Knife so i decided mmm no i'll throw down if i gotta today

so i said "um, lmao, you wanna get back behind me?"

and she turned from her phone and said "excuse me?"

"you can't just jump ahead in line like that"

"you have to put your luggage away"

"this is a carry-on, i'm gettin' right on that bus just like you."

"okay well we're all gettng on the same damn bus bitch is it that big a deal???"

"lol yeah? you can't cut around like that, so get back in line and wait like everybody else."

and she did! she bitched up a storm and was talkin the whole time to her friend about what a cunt i was but she grabbed her ugly lil bag and stepped back behind me and that's all i was after so i didn't say a word about it. 

idk how everyone else felt but at least 1 lady was as annoyed with her as i was because after the girl kept saying “it’s not even that serious wtf” she turned and said “then why are you still talking?” like LMAOOOOOOOOOO get shit on!!!

then it gets to be my turn to get on and the bus driver is “having trouble finding my number” (i think maybe he was stalling me boarding because he thought i was bein rude to that girl?? or he was stallin her gettin on just to piss her off?? it coulda gone either way)

and the girl was like "oooooh hold on i'm about to LIVE watchin this shit" cause she thought i wasn't gonna get to board, but then he flipped a page and went "oh! my bad, i was looking at the wrong number. here you are, ma'am"

and she was like "i'm so glad she got to get on the bus :)" and it was just the extra cherry on the cake cause she was SOOOOOOOO confident i was about to get my 'just desserts' for not letting her be an entitled brat and get her way but   s u p r i s e   b i t c h

i got a good ass seat and slept like a baby afterward with her bragging the whole time about how her unreclined shitty plastic seat near the cold ass front windows was better than my comfy warm reclining seat in the back that i DIDN'T pay 10 extra bucks for lol

rich people are wild

[ecotone99]

[HR] [SF] Spence - Chapter 3

Got Smiley’s stump sta’nched up some. Propped him up against the wall on the porch. Kinda hard to cuff up a stump, soz I latched his good hand to the cross foot, and ran the cuffs ‘round one of the porch posts. Had some old pain pills from a busted leg couple years back, and got him to wash those down with a little water. Thought I might have an argument, but ever’ time he started up, Spence would chirr and grin, and Smiley’d forget what he was gonna say.

Grabbed his keys, and then said ‘Ok, slick. You need to start tellin’ me about your merry bunch of assholes. Pretty sure we all know what yer after, so let’s us work on who and why. You really need a doc, and while Ima leanin’ towards lettin’ you live to count to 15 on what’s left for fingers and toes, Spence here is less forgivin’. I suggest you don’t fuck around for long.’

Here’s the tee ell dee arr, as they say on the Internets:

‘They’ still didn’t really have a name. Smiley called them ‘The Org.’ He (as well as the Stooges) was hired guns. From some company of private mercs, like them fellas over in the big sandbox. They had been assigned to ol’ Doc MFK for whatever it was he needed done, as well as security. The Org pays the bill. Smiley and company, he insisted, was just ‘doing a job.’ When the Stooges and ol’ doc MFK disappeared, word from on high came back, and Smiley and Sneaky been sent to follow-up, recon-like. The buzzard-what-wasn’t was their surveillance drone. Couldn’t directly track ol’ Spence since my tinkerin’, but they did get a general idea. Seems ol’ doc was real big on job security, and other than some general notes and reports for The Org, the details was all in his head. Ima thinkin’ his laptop has a few things they want, too. The Org wanted Spence so they could take him apart, and reverse engineer what Dr. McFuckknuckle hath wrought.

‘Just trying to make a buck, old man. Just following orders. The doctor says ‘bring me cats’, we go get cats. The doctor says ‘go get my run-away toy’, we go get it. The Org says jump, we ask how high.’

My rib-kickin’ foot was itchin’ for a workout. Spence chuffed. Smiley kinda jumped. ‘Leave him be fer now, Spence. He ain’t done talkin’ yet.’

Got Smiley to point out on a map just where his home-base was at. Was about 30 miles other side of town, up in the ridges and mountains. There was another 4 of his buddies there, and once they had Spence, they’d be told where to take ‘im, and take off, get paid, and be done.

The drone had been recalled for refuelin’, and some maintenance. Seems it had been flyin’ way over normal work-cycle, and had pancaked into the ground on the way home. Would be some time ‘fore it came back, if at all.

‘Spence, you keep an eye on our guest. Ima take care of some things.’ <chuff> and a smile. Smiley sat real still. ‘That’s a good fella, Spence.’

Dragged Sneaky and his parts over to the prowler. Popped open the trunk, and dumped him in. Jiggered the latch soz the emergency opener wouldn’t open from the inside. Up close you could tell it wasn’t really a statie prowler. The paint job was off some, and the stars on the doors was decals that was bubbled up in places. Good enough from a distance tho, I spoze.

Ima thinkin’ me and Spence might need to do our own little recon at ol’ doc’s lair. Mebbe get a handle on things, mebbe figger out a way to get The Org to leave us be. We can’t stay here, fer damn sure.

Walked back to the porch. Smiley was lookin’ pretty pale. ‘Ok son, here’s what’s gonna happen. Ima park you in the trunk over there with yer buddy. Gonna let folks know where you at, and they can come get ya. I’ll leave ya some water.’

Hauled him up, and walked (well, he was kinda hobblin’, seein’ as I had re-cuffed him, minus the porch post) over to the prowler, Spence playin’ sentry. As I was loadin’ him in there, I realized I done fucked up, ‘bout the same time he did. Sneaky’s hands mighta been Spencified, but his sidearm was still on his belt. Smiley grabbed at that, awkward like, and it brappppp-ed off a few thru the upraised lid. I stepped back and was gonna try slammin’ the lid on his head ... just as Spence jumped in the trunk. It was over real fast. Smiley ain’t in any hurry for a hospital now.

‘Thanks bud. I almost fucked that all up.’ Spence chuffed what ima thinkin’ was his version of ‘de nada, you old fart.’

Took Sneaky’s walkie, which needed a good wipe-down, off his harness. Made sure it was off. Smiley’s was kinda tore up. Tucked all Smiley’s dangly bits in, and slammed the trunk closed.

‘Brother Spence, time we got the hell outta Dodge.’

When Spence come outta the camper-shell, that whole plastic and aluminum frame had popped out whole. Got it wedged back in place. Wouldn’t be sliding open again anytime soon, but it did fit back in with a little persuasion.

I unrolled the arsenal, and grabbed a few choice bits. I had a half-assed idea, and needed those to make it work. Grabbed my pack. Stowed them choice bits, rolled the rest back up in the tarp, and stowed it again, and latched up the shell.

Opened up the cab door, and Spence hopped into the backseat. Went around to the drivers side, got in, and we headed down the dirt road to the highway.

Gonna kinda miss the old shack.

At the highway, I stopped, engine idling. I told ol’ Spence what I had in mind, while he set there with his chin on the seat-back. When I was done, he cocked his head at me, like he was ponderin’ on it. Then he give me a head bunt against my shoulder. He thought it was a good idea.

We turned towards town, as the sun settled down for the night, blazing reds and purples as it went.

Was dark when we hit town. We rolled on through. When we passed the store, Spence was tracking it as we went by. ‘Sorry brother, no chicken sammiches this time.’ He chuffed quietly. He don’t need to eat no more, but I think he still misses those.

Took us near an hour to get to the general area on that map, and leave the highway some before. Drove off-road towards the highlands. Finally ended up in a dry-wash that had decent enough ground to keep the truck from buryin’ to the axle. By my reckonin’, we was within a couple-three miles of the map markin’.

Took me about 45 minutes to take care of the prep for my plan. Spence was prowlin’ the perimeter, occasionally lookin’ back at me, and then goin’ back to sentry.

‘Ok bud. This part is done. I know you don’t need any grub, but Ima starvin’.’ Dug out the camp-stove, made up some stew, and took care of that problem. Spence watched me chew every bite. Yep, he misses food.

‘Sorry brother. I really am sorry.’ He come over where I was sittin’, stretched out, and put his head on my leg. I rubbed that ear, and he buzzed his purr, thumpin’ that lazy tail.

He’s still good company, my buddy Spence.

We just relaxed under that big night sky for a bit. Then it was time for the next part of the plan. We moved away from the truck, and settled in on a ridge above. Had my pack, my sawed-off, and one of the Stooges’ weapons handy, too.

I turned on Sneaky’s walkie. I figgered they must have repeaters of some kind, to make these useful at all up in the hills.

I keyed up the mike. ‘Breaker breaker. Can you chuckleheads hear me? This is the fella who you been fuckin’ with. Let’s us have a little heart-to-heart. I got somethin’ you want, and I wanna make a deal. You try to fuck with me anymore, and Ima ruin your day, so you come back to me, it best be the honcho what makes decisions, and not some flunky. Needs to be the man who don’t need to ask anyone for permission. You got 15 minutes.’

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[projectalbum]

R U Talkin’ I.R.S. R.E.M. RE: ME? 183. “Murmur - Deluxe Edition,” 184. “Reckoning,” 185. “Fables of the Reconstruction,” 186. “Lifes Rich Pageant,” 187. “Dead Letter Office," 188. “Document” by R.E.M.

If you’ve been following this blog with any regularity, you may have noticed how often references to R.E.M. weave their way into my appraisals of other artists. That’s because the band has become a bit of a Rosetta Stone for my musical taste: eclectic, ever-evolving, beautifully melodic, with evocative (or downright inscrutable) lyrics. I delved into their decades-long catalogue- piecemeal and out of chronology in the pre-Spotify days- at the exact point in my adolescence when I was forming what that taste would be. And now I must ask the question that has so ignited the public's curiosity: When did I first hear of the band R.E.M.?

My answer, at long last, is… "Hmm, not sure." As recounted in my entry on Barenaked Ladies (or “BNL,” as befitting such an essential band): during a high school trip through Europe, a bus ride from Ireland to Wales was scored by an all-over-the-map mixtape.* I was definitely already familiar with “It’s the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)” when it popped up. And I remember, sitting there as misty green hills moved past the window, that it sparked a web of associations: I likely thought of “Losing My Religion,” probably “The One I Love.” After watching a Comedy Central documentary on Andy Kaufman, I became briefly obsessed, and my mom helpfully told me that there was a song written about him, titled “Man on the Moon.” She pulled Automatic for the People, the only R.E.M. release she owned, off the shelf and played that track for me. I think I liked it, but I didn’t go further than that.

So, sitting on that tour bus, I figured that when we reached the London leg of our whirlwind trip, I would use my personal pilgrimage to Virgin Megastore (remember those?) to pick up a greatest hits collection. And I did, getting the recently released In Time: The Best of R.E.M. I loved it so much, I barely noticed that half the songs I knew, including the one that had inspired the purchase, were nowhere to be found.

As I later learned, that compilation was put out by Warner Bros Records, and as such was solely focused on the songs the band recorded while under contract to that label. And it’s true, several of their biggest hits came out of those first few WB releases. But wither “The One I Love?” Well, before they signed that lucrative deal, R.E.M. made their bones putting out arty, jangly, pastorally pretty rock music under the banner of I.R.S. Records.  

It’s been awhile since I first heard their debut full-length Murmur (#183), but after the slicker, weirder, string-flavored tunes I was used to, hearing the upfront immediacy of the young-and-hungry band, playing as a tight group over a chasm of reverb, was a bit revelatory. Recorded at the now-defunct Reflection Sound Studios in Charlotte, NC (a liner note discovery that filled me with no small amount of regional pride), Don Dixon and Mitch Easter's production makes the jangle rock dreamy and beguiling while avoiding cheesy 80’s pitfalls. It’s all killer, no filler (I even love “We Walk,” all bouncy repetition and ever-climbing arpeggios)— right now, I’d say the earnest “Talk About The Passion” and the almost hiccupy hook of “Catapult” rank as my favorite moments, but that changes and shifts unpredictably.

The sonic muscle of Reckoning (#184) is cleaner, with opener “Harborcoat” immediately shaking loose the spooky cobwebs of Murmur. Again, the immediacy surprised me when I first heard it: I was hearing the version of the band that tore the roof off of tiny venues in sleepy college towns throughout the South. For a time, it was the comparative lack of the fussy arrangements and earnest, soaring melodies I’d come to expect from my R.E.M. that dismissed this album to a dusty gray corner in my mind. But the mark of a Favorite Band means that you can return to their work at different times in your life and find that while the music stayed the same, you’re hearing it with different ears. There’s not a weak link in 10 tracks, and songs that I’d once had trouble even recalling became new favorites: "So. Central Rain,” with its ringing Rickenbacker guitar line, melodic bass, and keening chorus (“I’m sorry”) is a fan favorite for a reason, and “Camera,” which recalls a departed friend of the band’s, builds to a shattering chorus. And of course, the one straight-up, tear-in-your-beer country rocker in their catalogue, “(Don’t Go Back To) Rockville."

I remember driving to night classes in my first year of community college, listening to my newly-purchased disc of Fables of the Reconstruction (#185). Now this was immediately my speed, with the spooky, menacing, string quartet-inflected “Feeling Gravity’s Pull” and incantatory “Maps and Legends" leading the pack. The band had a lousy experience recording it, and they badmouth the way the songs were mixed, but to me the thick-as-kudzu production is a big part of this album’s hallucinatory power. I love the surreal, umber and burnished gold and chartreuse cover art as well: though the layout looks a little too cluttered on the CD, I bought the vinyl record from a second-hand store just to frame it, with the “Reconstruction of the Fables” ear-box side facing out from my wall.

Not every track does it for me. “Can’t Get There from Here” is fun but a little too affected in its whimsy, and “Auctioneer (Another Engine),” already a bit monotone, is the track most hampered by sludgy sound. But sandwiched in-between are “Green Grow the Rushes” and “Kohoutek,” glimpses of the environmentally-conscious, culturally-sensitive side of Michael Stripe and Co that led directly into their follow-up, Lifes Rich Pageant (#186). They expand the promise of those two tracks with “Fall On Me” and “Cuyahoga,” to devastatingly pretty effect.

Where Fables was a nighttime drive down an inky-dark American highway, Pageant is a wide-eyed survey of virgin prairie, a longing to return to unspoiled harmonic existence. “Let’s put our heads together / Let’s start a new country up,” the natives of “Cuyahoga” resolve over the ashy remains of the river bend. "What you want and what you need, there's the key / Your adventure for today, what do you do / Between the horns of the day?” Stipe exhorts his listeners in “I Believe,” and the Southern beach rock behind the words pushes you to make your move. “We are young despite the years / We are concern / We are hope despite the times,” he belts out over furious riffs and annihilated drums in “These Days," Mike Mills calling out affirmation in his backup vocal.

Right down to the absurdist sea shanty “Swan Swan H” and infectiously fun cover “Superman” that close it out, it’s hard to find a more consistent document of the band’s strengths. And now, damn, I want that to be a crackerjack segue to discussion of their next studio album, but months before that final I.R.S. release, there was Dead Letter Office (#187). A collection of occasionally rather sloppy outtakes and covers of varying reverence, the main draw here is the inclusion of their debut EP Chronic Town (on the CD, anyway. I notice that Spotify separates those songs from the DLO tracks). The angular menace of “Wolves, Lower” and the subtle, melodic magic of “Gardening At Night” (Stripe’s almost unintelligible lyrics are Exhibit A for his early-years shyness) are justifiable fan favorites to this day— not bad for the first batch of songs from such a prolific group. A must.

Buying Document (#188) finally gave me easy access to “It’s The End of the World...” and “The One I Love” (rather than, you know, waiting to hear one or the other on the radio). It also meant first experiencing one of my favorite opening salvos on record: “Finest Worksong.” It sounds HUGE, to borrow an oft-accurate phrase from notable actor/R.E.M. podcaster Adam Scott. Bill Berry’s thundercrack drums echo as if recorded in a cavernous factory where the overlords have been overthrown, while Peter Buck’s guitar chugs and drones, a dramatic change from the nimble arpeggios that made up previous records. It, and the songs that follow— “Welcome to the Occupation” ("Listen to the buyer still / Listen to the Congress / Where we propagate confusion”), “Exhuming McCarthy” ("Vested interest, united ties / Landed gentry, rationalize / Look who bought the myth / By Jingo, buy America”), “Disturbance at the Heron House”— make the album, at 31 years old, feel like a queasy reflection of our current milieu. No one feels fine right now.

Luckily, the music is still driving, fun, singable, varied in its grooves and moods. “Fireplace,” coming right after the twofer of the most famous singles, provided me such an unexpected thrill with a rare appearance by sinuous be-bop saxophone, such a different color for this band. Sax in 80’s songs is usually an utterly cheeseball affair, but this is a dark, weird tune, and is nowhere near that register of power balladry. “Lightnin’ Hopkins” is just as unique, with a metalhead rolling drum beat and Stipe acting like a throat-shredded street preacher over echoey chain-gang backup howls.

This band takes up a whole shelf in my house, so hold on tight for several more comprehensive and encyclopedic write-ups. 

*It’s been over a year since I wrote that entry, and I recently realized my memory is jumbled up. I now have a clear recollection that the songs from BNL’s Everything For Everyone were repeating in my head ON THAT VERY TRIP! So I was already a fan.

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Episode #57 - "You Inside Me" by Tori Curtis

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    You Inside Me

by Tori Curtis

  It’ll be fun, he’d said. Everyone’s doing it. You don’t have to be looking for romance, it’s just a good way to meet people.

“I don’t think it’s about romance at all,” Sabella said. She wove her flower crown into her braids so that the wire skeleton was hidden beneath strands of hair. “I think if you caught a congressman doing this, he’d have to resign.”

“That’s ’cause we’ve never had a vampire congressman,” Dedrick said. He rearranged her so that her shoulders fell from their habitual place at her ears, her chin pointed up, and snapped photos of her. “Step forward a little—there, you look more like yourself in that light.”

  Hello! Welcome to GlitterShip episode 57 for May 21st, 2018. This is your host, Keffy, and I’m super excited to share this story with you.

GlitterShip is now part of the Audible afflilate program. What this means is that just by listening to GlitterShip, you are eligible to get a free audio book and 30 day trial at Audible to check out the service.

If you’re looking for more queer science fiction to listen to, there’s a full audio book available of the Lightspeed Magazine “Queers Destroy Science Fiction” special issue, featuring stories by a large number of queer authors, including  John Chu, Chaz Brenchley, R.B. Lemberg, and many others.

To download a free audiobook today, go to http://www.audibletrial.com/GlitterShip and choose an excellent book to listen to, whether that’s “Queers Destroy Science Fiction” or something else entirely.

Today I have a story and a poem for you. The poem is “Dionysus in London” by Tristan Beiter.

Tristan Beiter is a student at Swarthmore College studying English Literature and Gender and Sexuality Studies. He loves reading poetry and speculative fiction, some of his favorite books being The Waste Land, HD’s Trilogy, Mark Doty’s Atlantis, Frances Hardinge’s Gullstruck Island, and Madeline Miller’s The Song of Achilles. When not reading or writing, he can usually be found crafting absurdities with his boyfriend or yelling about literary theory.

  Dionysus in London

by Tristan Beiter

  The day exploded, you know.

Last night a woman with big bouffant hair told me, “Show me a story where the daughter runs into a stop sign and it literally turns into a white flower.”

I fail to describe a total eclipse and the throne of petrified wood sank into the lakebed.

James made love to Buckingham while I pulled the honeysuckle to me, made a flower crown for the leopards flanking me while I watched red and white invert themselves, white petals pushing from the center of the sign as the post wilted until all that remained was a giant lotus on the storm grate waiting to rot or wash away.

I let it stay there while the Scottish king hid behind the Scottish play and walked behind me, one eye out for the mark left when locked in. You go witchy in there—or at least you—or he, or I—learn to be afraid of the big coats and brass buttons, like the ones in every hall closet; you never know if they will turn, like yours, into bats and bugs and giant tarantulas made from wire hangers.

The woman showed me our reflections in the shop window while one or the other man in the palace polished the silver for his lover’s table and asked me who I loved; I decided on the cream linen, since the wool was too close to the pea coat that hung

by your door. I suppose that the cat is under the car; that’s probably where it fled to as we walked, knowing we already found that the ivy in your hair was artificial as the bacchanal, or your evasion, Sire, of the question (and of the serpents who are well worth the well offered to them with the wet wax on my crown). I

suppose the car is under the cat, in which case it must be a very large cat, or else a very small car. I eat your teeth. I see brilliantine teeth floating in her thick red lipstick. James tears apart the rhododendron chattering (about) his incisors and remembering the flesh and—nothing so exotic as a Sphinx, maybe a dust mote or lip-marks left on the large leather chaise. Teeth gleam from the shadows where I wait, thyrsus raised with the cone almost touching the roof of the forest, to drown

in a peacock as it swallows (chimney swifts?) the sun—or was it son—or maybe it was just a grape I fed it so it would eat the spiders crawling from the closet. It struts across the palace green like it owns the place, like it will replace the hunting- grounds with fields of straggling mint that the king would never ask for.

The woman teases up her hair before the mirror, filling the restroom with hairspray and big laughs before walking back into the restaurant, where we wait to make ourselves over—the way the throne did when the wood crumbled under the pressure of an untold story, leaving nothing but crystals and dust.

We argued for an hour over whether to mix leaves and flowers, plants and gems, before settling on four crowns, one for each of us.

Her hair mostly covers hers. The cats will love it though, playing with teeth that were knocked into your wine in the barfight (why did you order wine in a place like that, Buck?) and you got replaced with gold, like I wear woven in my braids as the sun sets on the daughter that, unsurprisingly, none of us have. But

if we did, she would turn yield signs into dahlias and that would be the sign to move on with the leopards and their flashing teeth and brass eyes and listen. To the walls and rivers, to the sculpture that is far whiter than me falling. And to the peacock which has just eaten another bug so you don’t have to kill it. Get yourself a dresser and cover it with white enamel it’ll hold up, and no insects live in dressers. Keep

the ivy and the pinecone in a mother-of-pearl trinket box with your plastic volumizing hair inserts and jeweled combs. And put a cat and dolphin on it, to remember.

    Next, our short story this episode is “You Inside Me” by Tori Curtis

Tori Curtis writes speculative fiction with a focus on LGBT and disability issues. She is the author of one novel, Eelgrass, and a handful of short stories. You can find her at toricurtiswrites.com and on Twitter at @tcurtfish, where she primarily tweets about how perfect her wife is.

CW: For descriptions of traumatic surgery.

  You Inside Me

by Tori Curtis

  It’ll be fun, he’d said. Everyone’s doing it. You don’t have to be looking for romance, it’s just a good way to meet people.

“I don’t think it’s about romance at all,” Sabella said. She wove her flower crown into her braids so that the wire skeleton was hidden beneath strands of hair. “I think if you caught a congressman doing this, he’d have to resign.”

“That’s ’cause we’ve never had a vampire congressman,” Dedrick said. He rearranged her so that her shoulders fell from their habitual place at her ears, her chin pointed up, and snapped photos of her. “Step forward a little—there, you look more like yourself in that light.”

He took fifteen minutes to edit her photos (“they’ll expect you to use a filter, so you might as well,”) and pop the best ones on her profile.

Suckr: the premier dating app for vampires and their fanciers.

“It’s like we’re cats,” she said.

“I heard you like cats,” he agreed, and she sighed.

    Hi, I’m Sabella. I’ve been a vampire since I was six years old, and I do not want to see or be seen by humans. I’m excited to meet men and women between the ages of eighteen and sixty-five.

“That’s way too big of an age range,” Dedrick said. “You want to be compatible with these people.”

“Yeah, compatible. Like my tissue type.”

“You don’t want to end up flirting with a grandpa.”

I’m excited to meet men and women between the ages of twenty and thirty-five.

I’m most proud of my master’s degree.

You should message me if you’re brave and crazy.

    It took days, not to mention Dedrick’s exasperated return, before she went back on Suckr. She paced up the beautiful wood floors of her apartment, turning on heel at the sole window on the long end and the painted-over cast-iron radiator on the short. When she felt too sick to take care of herself, her mom came over and put Rumors on, wrapped her in scarves that were more pretty than functional, warmed some blood and gave it to her in a sippy cup. Sabella remembered nothing so much as the big Slurpees her mom had bought her, just this bright red, when she’d had strep the last year she was human.

She wore the necklace Dedrick had given her every day. It was a gold slice of pepperoni pizza with “best” emblazoned on the back (his matched, but read “friends,”), and she fondled it like a hangnail. She rubbed the bruises on her arms, where the skin had once been clear and she’d once thought herself pretty in a plain way, like Elinor Dashwood, as though she might be able to brush off the dirt.

She called her daysleeper friends, texted acquaintances, and slowly stopped responding to their messages as she realized how bored she was of presenting hope day after day.

    2:19:08 bkissedrose: I’m so sorry.

2:19:21 bkissedrose: I feel like such a douche

2:19:24 sabellasay: ???

2:20:04 sabellasay: what r u talkin about

2:25:56 bkissedrose: u talked me down all those times I would’ve just died

2:26:08 sabellasay: it was rly nbd

2:26:27 bkissedrose: I’ve never been half as good as you are

2:26:48 bkissedrose: and now you’re so sick

2:29:12 sabellasay: dude stop acting like i’m dying

2:29:45 sabellasay: I can’t stand it

2:30:13 bkissedrose: god you’re so brave

  (sabellasay has become inactive)

    “Everyone keeps calling me saying you stopped talking to them,” Dedrick said when he made it back to her place, shoes up on the couch now that he’d finally wiped them of mud. “Should I feel lucky you let me in?”

“I’m tired,” she said. “It’s supposed to be a symptom. I like this one, I think she has potential.”

He took her phone and considered it with the weight of a father researching a car seat. “A perfect date: I take you for a ride around the lake on my bike, then we stop home for an evening snack.”

“She means her motorcycle,” Sabella clarified.

He rolled his eyes and continued reading. “My worst fear: commitment.”

“At least she’s honest.”

“That’s not really a good thing. You’re not looking for someone to skip out halfway through the movie.”

“No, I’m looking for someone who’s not going to be heartbroken when I die anyway.”

Dedrick sighed, all the air going out of his chest as it might escape from dough kneaded too firmly, and held her close to him. “You’re stupid,” he told her, “but so sweet.”

“I think I’m going to send her a nip.”

    The girl was named Ash but she spelled it A-I-S-L-I-N-G, and she seemed pleased that Sabella knew enough not to ask lots of stupid questions. They met in a park by the lakeside, far enough from the playground that none of the parents would notice the fanged flirtation going on below.

If Aisling had been a boy, she would have been a teen heartthrob. She wore her hair long where it was slicked back and short (touchable, but hard to grab in a fight) everywhere else. She wore a leather jacket that spoke of a once-in-a-lifetime thrift store find, and over the warmth of her blood and her breath she smelled like bag balm. Sabella wanted to hide in her arms from a fire. She wanted to watch her drown trying to save her.

Aisling parked her motorcycle and stowed her helmet before coming over to say hi—gentlemanly, Sabella thought, to give her a chance to prepare herself.

“What kind of scoundrel left you to wait all alone?” Aisling asked, with the sort of effortlessly cool smile that might have broken a lesser woman’s heart.

“I don’t know,” Sabella said, “but I’m glad you’re here now.”

Aisling stepped just inside her personal space and frowned. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude,” she said, “but are you—”

“I’m trans, yes,” Sabella interrupted, and smiled so wide she could feel the tension at her temples. Like doing sit-ups the wrong way for years, having this conversation so many times hadn’t made it comfortable, only routine. “We don’t need to be awkward about it.”

“Okay,” Aisling agreed, and sat on the bench, helping Sabella down with a hand on her elbow. “I meant that you seem sick.”

She looked uneasy, and Sabella sensed that she had never been human. Vampires didn’t get sick—she had probably never had more than a headache, and that only from hunger.

“Yes,” Sabella said. “I am sick. I’m not actually—I mentioned this on my profile—I’m not actually looking for love.”

“I hope you won’t be too disappointed when it finds you,” Aisling said, and Sabella blushed, reoriented herself with a force like setting a bone, like if she tried hard enough to move in one direction she’d stop feeling like a spinning top.

“I’m looking for a donor,” she said.

“Yeah, all right,” Aisling said. She threw her arm over the back of the bench so that Sabella felt folded into her embrace. “I’m always willing to help a pretty girl out.”

“I don’t just mean your blood,” she said, and felt herself dizzy.

    It was easier for Sabella to convince someone to do something than it was for her to ask for it. Her therapist had told her that, and even said it was common, but he hadn’t said how to fix it. “Please, may I have your liver” was too much to ask, and “Please, I don’t want to die” was a poor argument.

“So, you would take my liver—”

“It would actually only be part of your liver,” Sabella said, stopping to catch her breath. She hadn’t been able to go hiking since she’d gotten so sick—she needed company, and easy trails, and her friends either didn’t want to go or, like her mom, thought it was depressing to watch her climb a hill and have to stop to spit up bile.

“So we would each have half my liver, in the end.”

Sabella shrugged and looked into the dark underbrush. If she couldn’t be ethical about this, she wouldn’t deserve a liver. She wouldn’t try to convince Aisling until she understood the facts. “In humans, livers will regenerate once you cut them in half and transplant them. Like how kids think if you cut an earthworm in half, you get two. Or like bulbs. Ideally, it would go like that.”

“And if it didn’t go ideally?”

(“Turn me,” Dedrick said one day, impulsively, when she’d been up all night with a nosebleed that wouldn’t stop, holding her in his lap with his shirt growing polka-dotted. “I’ll be a vampire in a few days, we can have the surgery—you’ll be cured in a week.”)

“If it doesn’t go ideally,” Sabella said, “one or both of us dies. If it goes poorly, I don’t even know what happens.”

She stepped off the tree and set her next target, a curve in the trail where a tree had fallen and the light shone down on the path. Normally these days she didn’t wear shoes but flip-flops, but this was a date, and she’d pulled her old rainbow chucks out of the closet. Aisling walked with her silently, keeping pace, and put an arm around her waist.

Sabella looked up and down the trail. Green Lake was normally populated enough that people kept to their own business, and these days she felt pretty safe going about, even with a girl. But she checked anyway before she leaned into Ais’s strength, letting her guide them so that she could use all her energy to keep moving.

“But if it doesn’t happen at all, you die no matter what?”

Sabella took a breath. “If you don’t want to, I look for someone else.”

    Her mom was waiting for her when Sabella got home the next morning.

Sabella’s mother was naturally blonde, tough when she needed to be, the sort of woman who could get into hours-long conversations with state fair tchotchke vendors. She’d gotten Sabella through high school and into college through a careful application of stamping and yelling. When Sabella had started calling herself Ravynn, she’d brought a stack of baby name books home and said, “All right, let’s find you something you can put on a resume.”

“Mom,” she said, but smiling, “I gave you a key in case I couldn’t get out of bed, not so you could check if I spent the night with a date.”

“How’d it go? Was this the girl Dedrick helped you find?”

“Aisling, yeah,” Sabella said. She sat on the recliner, a mountain of accent pillows cushioning her tender body. “It was good. I like her a lot.”

“Did she decide to get the surgery?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask her to choose.”

“Then what did you two do all night?”

Sabella frowned. “I like her a lot. We had a good time.”

Her mom stood and put the kettle on, and Sabella couldn’t help thinking what an inconvenience she was, that her mother couldn’t fret over her by making toast and a cup of tea. “Christ, what decent person would want to do that with you?”

“We have chemistry! She’s very charming!”

She examined Sabella with the dissatisfied air of an artist. “You’re a mess, honey. You’re so orange you could be a jack-o-lantern, and swollen all over. You look like you barely survived a dogfight. I don’t even see my daughter when I look at you anymore.”

Sabella tried to pull herself together, to look more dignified, but instead she slouched further into the recliner and crossed her arms over her chest. “Maybe she thinks I’m funny, or smart.”

“Maybe she’s taking advantage. Anyone who really cared about you wouldn’t be turned on, they’d be worried about your health.”

Sabella remembered the look on Aisling’s face when she’d first come close enough to smell her, and shuddered. “I’m not going to ask her to cut out part of her body for me without thinking about it first,” she said.

“Without giving her something in return?” her mom asked. “It’s less than two pounds.”

“But it’s still her choice,” Sabella said.

“I’m starting to wonder if you even want to live,” her mom said, and left.

Sabella found the energy to go turn off the stovetop before she fell asleep. (Her mother had raised her responsible.)

    12:48:51 bkissedrose: what happens to a dream bestowed

12:49:03 bkissedrose: upon a girl too weak to fight for it?

12:53:15 sabellasay: haha you can’t sleep either?

12:53:38 sabellasay: babe idk

12:55:43 sabellasay: is it better to have loved and lost

12:56:29 sabellasay: than to die a virgin?

1:00:18 bkissedrose: I guess I don’t know

1:01:24 bkissedrose: maybe it depends if they’re good

    “It’s nice here,” Aisling confessed the third time they visited the lake. Sabella and her mom weren’t talking, but she couldn’t imagine it would last more than a few days longer, so she wasn’t worried. “I’d never even heard of it.”

“I grew up around here,” Sabella said, “and I used to take my students a few times a year.”

“You teach?”

“I used to teach,” she said, and stepped off the trail—the shores were made up of a gritty white sand like broken shells—to watch the sinking sun glint off the water. “Seventh grade science.”

Aisling laughed. “That sounds like a nightmare.”

“I like that they’re old enough you can do real projects with them, but before it breaks off into—you know, are we doing geology or biology or physics. When you’re in seventh grade, everything is science.” She smiled and closed her eyes so that she could feel the wind and the sand under her shoes. She could hear birds settling and starting to wake, but she couldn’t place them. “They’ve got a long-term sub now. Theoretically, if I manage to not die, I get my job back.”

Aisling came up behind her and put her arms around her. Sabella knew she hadn’t really been weaving—she knew her limits well enough now, she hoped—but she felt steadier that way. “You don’t sound convinced.”

“I don’t think they expect to have to follow through,” Sabella admitted. “Sometimes I think I’m the only one who ever thinks I’m going to survive this. My mom’s so scared all the time, I know she doesn’t.”

Aisling held her not tight but close, like being tucked into a bright clean comforter on a cool summer afternoon. “Can I ask you a personal question?” she said, her face up against Sabella’s neck so that every part of Sabella wanted her to bite.

“Maybe,” she said, then thought better of it. “Yes.”

“How’d you get sick? I didn’t think we could catch things like that. Or was it while you were human?”

“Um, no, but I’m not contagious, just nasty.” Aisling laughed, and she continued, encouraged. “Mom would, you know, once I came out I could do pretty much whatever I wanted, but she wouldn’t let me get any kind of reconstructive surgery until I was eighteen. She thought it was creepy, some doc getting his hands all over her teenage kid.”

“Probably fair.”

“So I’m eighteen, and she says okay, you’re right, you got good grades in school and you’re going to college like I asked, I’ll pay for whatever surgery you want. And you have to imagine, I just scheduled my freshman orientation, I have priorities.”

“Which are?”

“Getting laid, mostly.”

“Yeah, I remember that.”

“So I’m eighteen and hardly ever been kissed, I’m not worried about the details. I don’t let my mom come with me, it doesn’t even occur to me to see a doctor who’s worked with vampires before, I just want to look like Audrey Hepburn’s voluptuous sister.”

“Oh no,” Ash said. It hung there for a moment, the dread and Sabella’s not being able to regret that she’d been so stupid. “It must have come up.”

“Sure. He said he was pretty sure it would be possible to do the surgery on a vampire, he knew other surgeries had been done. I was just so excited he didn’t say no.”

Ash held her tight then, like she might be dragged away otherwise, and Sabella knew that it had nothing to do with her in particular, that it was only the protective instinct of one person watching another live out her most plausible nightmare. “What did he do to you?”

“It wasn’t his fault,” she said, and then—grimacing, she knew her mother would have been so angry with her—“at least, he didn’t mean anything by it. He never read anything about how to adapt the procedure to meet my needs.” She sounded so clinical, like she’d imbibed so many doctors’ explanations of what had happened that she was drunk on it. “But neither did I. We both found out you can’t give vampires a blood transfusion.”

“Why would you need to?”

She shrugged. “You don’t, usually, in plastic surgery.”

“No,” Aisling interrupted, “I mean, why wouldn’t you drink it?”

Sabella tried to remember, or tried not to be able to, and tucked her cold hands into her pockets. “You’re human, I guess. Anyway, I puked all over him and the incision sites, had to be hospitalized. My doctor says I’m lucky I’m such a good healer, or I’d need new boobs and a new liver.”

They were both quiet, and Sabella thought, this is it. You either decide it’s too much or you kiss me again.

She thought, I miss getting stoned with friends and telling shitty surgery stories and listening to them laugh. I hate that when I meet girls their getting-to-know-you involves their Youtube make-up tutorials and mine involves “and then, after they took the catheter out…”

“Did you sue for malpractice, at least?” Ash asked, and Sabella couldn’t tell without looking if her tone was teasing or wistful.

“My mom did, yeah. When they still wanted her to pay for the damn surgery.”

    Aisling pulled up to the front of Sabella’s building and stopped just in front of her driveway. She kicked her bike into park and stepped onto the sidewalk, helping Sabella off and over the curbside puddle. Sabella couldn’t find words for what she was thinking, she was so afraid that her feelings would shatter as they crystallized. She wanted Ais to brush her hair back from her face and comb out the knots with her fingers. She wanted Ais to stop by to shovel the drive when there was lake effect snow. She wanted to find ‘how to minimize jaundice’ in the search history of Aisling’s phone.

“You’re beautiful in the sunlight,” Ais said, breaking her thoughts, maybe on purpose. “Like you were made to be outside.”

Sabella ducked her head and leaned up against her. The date was supposed to be over, go inside and let this poor woman get on with her life, but she didn’t want to leave. “It’s nice to have someone to go with me,” she said. “Especially with a frost in the air. Sometimes people act like I’m so fragile.”

“Ridiculous. You’re a vampire.”

Her ears were cold, and she pressed them against Aisling’s jawbone. She wondered what the people driving past thought when they saw them. She thought that maybe the only thing better than surviving would be to die a tragic death, loved and loyally attended. “I was born human.”

“Even God makes mistakes.”

Sabella smiled. “Is that what I am? A mistake?”

“Nah,” she said. “Just a happy accident.”

Sabella laughed, thought you’re such a stoner and I feel so safe when you look at me like that.

“I’ll do it,” Ais said.  “What do I have to do to set up the surgery?”

Sabella hugged her tight, hid against her and counted the seconds—one, two, three, four, five—while Ais didn’t change her mind and Sabella wondered if she would.

    “I have to stress how potentially dangerous this is,” Dr. Young said. “I can’t guarantee that it will work, that either of you will survive the procedure or the recovery, or that you won’t ultimately regret it.”

Aisling was holding it together remarkably well, Sabella thought, but she still felt like she could catch her avoiding eye contact. Sabella had taken the seat in the doctor’s office between her mother and girlfriend, and felt uncomfortable and strange no matter which of their hands she held.

“Um,” Ais said, and Sabella could feel her mother’s judgment at her incoherence, “you said you wouldn’t be able to do anything for the pain?”

To her credit, the doctor didn’t fidget or look away. Sabella, having been on the verge of death long enough to become something of a content expert, believed that it was important to have a doctor who was upfront about how terrible her life was. “I wouldn’t describe it as ‘nothing,’ exactly,” she said. “There aren’t any anesthetics known to work on vampires, but we’ll make you as comfortable as possible. You can feed immediately before and as soon as you’re done, and that will probably help snow you over.”

“Being a little blood high,” Ais clarified. “While you cut out my liver.”

“Yes.”

Sabella wanted to apologize. She couldn’t find the words.

Aisling said, “Well, while we’re trying to make me comfortable, can I smoke up, too?”

Dr. Young laughed. It wasn’t cruel, but it wasn’t promising, either. “That’s not a terrible idea,” she said, “but marijuana increases bleeding, and there are so many unknown variables here that I’d like to stick to best practices if we can.”

“I can just—” Sabella said, and choked. She wasn’t sure when she’d started crying. “Find someone else. Dedrick will do it, I know.”

Aisling considered this. The room was quiet, soft echoes on the peeling tile floor. Sabella’s mother put an arm around her, and she felt tiny, but in the way that made her feel ashamed and not protected. Aisling said, “Why are you asking me? Is there something you know that I don’t?”

Dr. Young shook her head. “I promise we’re not misrepresenting the procedure,” she said. “And theoretically, it might be possible with any vampire. But there aren’t a lot of organ transplants in the literature—harvesting, sure, but not living transplants—and I want to get it right the first time. If we have a choice, I told Sabella I’d rather use a liver from a donor who was born a vampire. I think it’ll increase our chance of success.”

“A baby’d be too weak,” Aisling agreed. Her voice was going hard and theoretical. “Well, tell me something encouraging.”

“One of the first things we’ll do is to cut through almost all of your abdominal nerves, so that will help. And there’s a possibility that the experience will be so intense that you don’t remember it clearly, or at all.”

Sabella’s mother took a shaky breath, and Sabella wished, hating herself for it, that she hadn’t come.

Ais said, “Painful. You mean, the experience will be so painful.”

“If you choose to go forward with it,” Dr. Young said, “we’ll do everything we can to mitigate that.”

    Sabella had expected that Aisling would want space and patience while she decided not to die a horrible, painful death to save her. It was hard to tell how instead they ended up in her bed with the lights out, their legs wound together and their faces swollen with sleep. Sabella was shaking, and couldn’t have said why. Ais grabbed her by her seat and pulled her up close.

“You said you couldn’t get me sick?” she asked.

“No,” Sabella agreed. “Although my blood is probably pretty toxic.”

Ais kissed her, the smell of car exhaust still stuck in her hair. “What a metaphor,” she murmured, and lifted her chin. “You look exhausted.”

Sabella thought, Are you saying what I think you’re saying? and, That’s a terrible idea, and said, “God, I want to taste you.”

“Well, baby,” Ais said, and her hands were on Sabella so she curled her lips and blew her hair out of her eyes, “that’s what I’m here for.”

Sabella had been human once, and she remembered what food was like. The standard lie, that drinking blood was like eating a well-cooked steak, was wrong but close enough to staunch the flow of an interrogation. (She’d had friends and exes, turned as adults, who said it was like a good stout on tap, hefty and refreshing, but she thought they might just be trying to scandalize her.)

Ais could have been a stalk of rhubarb or August raspberries. She moved under Sabella and held her so that their knees pressed together. She could have been the thrill of catching a fat thorny toad in among the lettuce at dusk, or a paper wasp in a butterfly net. She felt like getting tossed in the lake in January; she tasted like being wrapped in fleece and gently dried before the fire; her scent was what Sabella remembered of collapsing, limbs aquiver, on the exposed bedrock of a mountaintop, nothing but crushed pine and the warmth of a moss-bed.

She woke on top of Ais, licking her wounds lazily—she wanted more, but she was too tired to do anything about it.

“That’s better,” Ais whispered, and if she was disappointed that this wasn’t turning into a frenzy, she didn’t show it. They were quiet for long enough that the haze started to fade, and then Aisling said, “I couldn’t ask in front of your mother, but was it like that with your surgery? They couldn’t do anything for the pain?”

Sabella shifted uncomfortably, rolled over next to Ais. “I was conscious, yes.”

“Do you remember it?”

It was a hard question. She wanted to say it wasn’t her place to ask. She tried to remember, and got caught up in the layers of exhaustion, the spaces between the body she’d had, the body she’d wanted, and what they had been doing to her. “Sounds and sensations and thoughts, mostly,” she said.

Ais choked, and said, “So, everything,” and Sabella realized—she didn’t know how she hadn’t—how scared she must be.

“No, it’s blurry,” she said instead. “I remember, um, the tugging at my chest. I kept thinking there was no way my skin wasn’t just going to split open. And the scraping sounds. They’ve got all these tools, and they’re touching you on the inside and the outside at the same time, and that’s very unsettling. And this man, I think he was the PA, standing over me saying, ‘You’ve got to calm down, honey.’”

“Were you completely freaking out?” Ais asked.

Sabella shook her head. Her throat hurt. “No. I mean—I cried a little. Not as much as you’d think. They said if I wasn’t careful, you know, with swallowing at the right times and breathing steady, they might mess up reshaping my larynx and I could lose my voice.”

Ais swore, and Sabella wondered if she would feel angry. (Sometimes she would scream and cry, say, can you imagine doing that to an eighteen-year-old?) Right now she was just tired. “How did you manage?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I think just, it was worth more to me to have it done than anything else. So I didn’t ever tell them to stop.”

    “Please don’t go around telling people I think this is an acceptable surgical set-up,” Dr. Young said, looking around the exam room.

It reminded Sabella of a public hearing, the way the stakeholders sat at opposing angles and frowned at each other. Dr. Young sat next to Dr. Park, who would be the second doctor performing the procedure. Sabella had never met Dr. Park before, and her appearance—young, mostly—didn’t inspire confidence. Sabella sat next to her mother, who held her hand and a clipboard full of potential complications. Ais crossed her fingers in her lap, sat with a nervous child’s version of polite interest. Time seemed not to blur, but to stutter, everything happening whenever.

“Dr. Park,” Sabella’s mother said, “do you have any experience operating on vampires?”

Dr. Park grinned and her whole mouth seemed to open up in her face, her gums pale pink as a Jolly Rancher and her left fang chipped. “Usually trauma or obstetrics,” she admitted. “Although this is nearly the same thing.”

“I’m serious,” Sabella’s mom said, and Sabella interrupted.

“I like her,” she said. And then—it wasn’t really a question except in the sense that there was no way anyone could be sure—“You’re not going to realize halfway through the surgery that it’s too much for you?”

Dr. Park laughed. “I turned my husband when we were both eighteen,” she said as testament to her cruelty.

Sabella’s mom jumped. “Jesus Christ, why?”

She shrugged, languid. Ais and Dr. Young were completely calm; Ais might have had no frame of reference for what it was like to watch someone turn, and Dr. Young had probably heard this story before. “His parents didn’t like that he was dating a vampire. You’ll do crazy things for love.”

Sabella could see her mother blanch even as she steadied. It wasn’t unheard of for a vampire to turn their spouse—less common now that it was easier to live as a vampire, and humans were able to date freely but not really commit. But she could remember being turned, young as she had been: the gnawing ache, the hallucinations, the thirst that had only sometimes eclipsed the pain. It was still the worst thing that she’d ever experienced, and she was sure her mother couldn’t understand why anyone would choose to do it to someone they loved.

“Good,” she said. “You won’t turn back if we scream.”

Dr. Young frowned. “I want you to know you have a choice,” she said. She was speaking to Ais; Sabella had a choice, too, but it was only between one death and another. “There will be a point when you can’t change your mind, but by then it’ll be almost over.”

Ais swore. It made Dr. Park smile and Sabella’s mom frown. Sabella wondered if she was in love with her, or if it was impossible to be in love with someone who was growing a body for them to share. “Don’t say that,” Ais said. “I don’t want to have that choice.”

    The morning of the surgery, Aisling gave Sabella a rosary to wear with her pizza necklace, and when they kicked Sabella’s mom out to the waiting room, she kissed them both as she went. “I like your mom,” Ais said shyly. They lay in cots beside each other, just close enough that they could reach out and hold hands across the gap. “I bet she’d get along with mine.”

Sabella laughed, her eyes stinging, threw herself across the space between them and kissed each of Ais’s knuckles while Ais said, “Aw, c’mon, save it ‘til we get home.”

“Isn’t that a lot of commitment for you?” Sabella asked.

“Yeah, well,” Ais said, caught, and gave her a cheesy smile. “You’re already taking my liver, at least my heart won’t hurt so much.”

They drank themselves to gorging while nurses wrapped and padded them in warm blankets. Ais was first, for whatever measure of mercy that was, and while they were wheeled down the dizzying white hallway, she grinned at Sabella, wild, some stranger’s blood staining her throat to her nose. “You’re a real looker,” she said, and Sabella laughed over her tears.

“Thank you,” Sabella said. “I mean, really, for everything.”

Ais winked at her; Sabella wanted to run away from all of this and drink her in until they died. “It’s all in a day’s work, ma’am,” she said.

It wasn’t, it couldn’t have been, and Sabella loved her for pretending. Ais hissed, she cried, she asked intervention of every saint learned in K-12 at a Catholic school. A horrible gelatinous noise came as Dr. Young’s gloves touched her innards, and Ais moaned and Sabella said, “You have to stop, this is awful,” and the woman assigned to supervise her held her down and said hush, honey, you need to be quiet. And the doctors’ voices, neither gentle nor unkind: We’re almost done now, Aisling, you’re being so brave. And: It’s a pity she’s too strong to pass out.

Sabella went easier, hands she couldn’t see wiping her down and slicing her open while Dr. Park pulled Ais’s insides back together. She’d been scared for so long that the pain didn’t frighten her; she kept asking “Is she okay? What’s happening?” until the woman at her head brushed back her hair and said shh, she’s in the recovery room, you can worry about yourself now.

It felt right, fixing her missteps with pieces of Ais, and when Dr. Young said, “There we go, just another minute and you can go take care of her yourself,” Sabella thought about meromictic lakes, about stepping into a body so deep its past never touched its present.

END

    “Dionysus in London” is copyright Tristan Beiter 2018.

“You Inside Me” is copyright Tori Curtis 2018.

This recording is a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license which means you can share it with anyone you’d like, but please don’t change or sell it. Our theme is “Aurora Borealis” by Bird Creek, available through the Google Audio Library.

You can support GlitterShip by checking out our Patreon at patreon.com/keffy, subscribing to our feed, or by leaving reviews on iTunes.

Thanks for listening, and we’ll be back soon with a reprint of “The City of Kites and Crows” by Megan Arkenberg.

  Episode #57 – “You Inside Me” by Tori Curtis was originally published on GlitterShip

[calum-hood-could]

Making a quick buck off a guy u knew for 3 weeks is not "doing something good" that's his mother. I think she knows what she's talking about. She made a store while with Luke, took the money and sent out no items and then pretended she didn't even have a store. Then she made fine whining, made merch, dropped the channel and still didn't send out merch to people. How is anyone shocked she's doing it again?? Yikes. His fam > her

See this is exactly what I was talking about. Y’all hating on a girl who fell in love, and then did some dumb shit with good intention... not the store that was fuckin stupid as hell... like I am all with you guys when it comes for her and Luke and that their entire thing was passionately fucked, but her and Peep were together for a short amount of time, but she put her all into that... like as in actually trying... and then he dies. That’s gonna shake anyone and her plan was not to profit, the plan for profit actually came from his team. She wanted it to go to his fam, and then when they didn’t want it she wanted it to go to charity, AND THEN when his family, in their grief, said nasty things to her, everyone starts massively hating on her. She just lost someone she either was in love with or felt that she was in love with, and now the family she reached out to bc she wanted to connect this with them, treated her very rudely. The rude is understandable tho, as they did just experience a category 5 earthquake to their hearts, but that doesn’t mean we should be sitting her and talkin shit about arz. Have some fucking respect for EVERYONE grieving. Now is not the time to be throwin shade and hate at a situation that is far beyond them thinking arz is an “attention whore”.... which is rude to call someone but they said it not me.... it’s about a ton of people on both sides who are handling their grief in different ways. I know we all like to hate her and shit, but she was fucking trying. The bitch is heartbroken. Leave it be.

[shorttfuse]

The OA Soulmate au

so i know no one asked or will care about this but i’m writing this (sort of) buck x french soulmate au for the oa and i just gotta talk it out for myself

some ranting (so much ranting. all the ranting. why do i never shut up) under the cut as i think

i didn’t reread anything after i typed it so i hope this makes sense lmao

-i want to keep kind of the basic plot of the oa without like, the kidnapping or the supernatural/sci fi shit (except for soulmates i guess) which is hard

-so i want to make this a primarily buck x french story, where you recognize your soulmate when you lock eyes for the first time (or at least that’s how it goes for most people, see below)

-this happens for buck/french at that banquet scholarship dinner thing. while buck is singing. oa never flips her shit over wifi so they never see each other at the drug house

-french lowkey freaks out bc:    1. french is a senior. buck is a freshman. a 3-4 year age difference doesn’t matter when ur older but in high school? thats a big difference. how the fuck is he supposed to gracefully handle that    2. i was thinking about how french would feel about the idea of soulmates, and i think i decided that he would like them in a nebulous “in the future” kind of way, but wouldn’t be excited about it either. “i do everything by myself” etc, i imagine he thinks of it as just another responsibility on his plate and another person depending on him and he doesn’t like. have the time right now tbh.    3. he is finally getting out of here!! he worked so hard!! and is almost free!!! or like. he’s never gonna be totally free and i don’t think he really wants to, this boy loves and cares so deeply. but he was gonna get to go to college, and visit on weekends, and. don’t tell me french was not a little excited to have only half his life revolve around taking care of his entire family instead of 100%. this is not a good time for this!!!!

-anyways french freaks out. buck tries to talk to him after the banquet but he’s tryin to deal with his drunk mom, finds out buck rode his bike to the thing and *has* to offer him a ride home, wtf, it’s after dark. (french’s very selective bleeding heart i love him)

-they kind of talk after they drop of french’s mom. french is like “you’re young!!! im leaving!!! i don’t really know what to do!!!” and buck is like “uh chill? im 14 im not asking u to marry me or anything. we can like. be friends??? u wanna get ice cream some time”

-french agrees but then kind of. never texts buck bc he still doesn’t really know what to do and he’s kind of a a coward when it comes to this.

-idk if there’s a canon to what happened to french’s dad but in this i feel like his mom and dad are soulmates and his dad left them and both french and his mom have some Issues about that still

- anyways!!! the other people!!! how do i bring them together including bba without oa’s story

-so i’m thinkin everyone gets to be the same age they are in canon except oa and homer, who i’m gonna age down to hs seniors.

-they’re soulmates obvs (homer the football star and oa the kind of odd blind artsy girl who have known each other for years i love it)

-im thinkin breakfast club esque thing, they all end up in detention with bba as the instructor, bba doesn’t rly care if they talk so long as there are no phones

-oa starts tellin a story or like. maybe one of them (im thinkin jesse) asks about how her and homer met and how they know they’re soulmates if they can never, you know, lock eyes

-oa is rly poetic about it and some1 asks if she writes or anything

-oa admits she wanted to start a creative writing club but you have to have a teacher sponser and at least 5 members

-ta da all of them end up in the same club, tuesdays after school, ostensibly to be creative but mostly oa tells stories while buck draws things inspired by them and french does his homework etc and its fun

-most importantly the detention forces french to interact with buck again, they finally get that ice cream and start talkin over things and being friends and bein cute and probably at least once buck kisses french on the cheek and i die

-french starts to realize that like. you can let people help etc (not just buck but the others as well) and a soulmate doesn’t mean another burden on french’s shoulders but is each others burdens shared over a larger surface area and its great and french looks at buck with miles of affection forever, amen

-i have side ideas re: everyone else’s soulmates (or lack thereof)  too but this is already super fuckin long and i think i have a general idea of how i want this story to go now, thanks tumblr.