#BECAUSE SOME IDIOT FED HER PEANUTS | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

iconic-ponytail · 3 years

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there's always money in the banana stand

riverdale promptathon week 3: yellow + business

Even as the sun sets, even as the breeze blows, the hell furnace of July in Riverdale burns on. It’s triply as sweltering inside the tiny booth running three freezers, offloading heat to sustain the frozen merchandise inside. “How can it be so hot in there when we are supposed to be selling frozen bananas?” JB complains, at least twice a week.

She’s twelve. Complaint is her new first language. She complains about being left in Riverdale while Gladys went back to Toledo. She complains about living in a trailer park that usually does not have warm water. She complains about their father being imprisoned for covering up a gruesome murder. But most of all, she complains about working in the banana stand.

Child labor laws aside, Jughead can’t blame her for that one. He hates the damn banana stand, but it’s their best shot.

Gladys’ monthly check covers rent and utilities for the trailer. Everything else is on him, now. The idiot eighteen year old who decided to petition the court to be his sister’s legal guardian. Well, and his idiot mom who signed off on it. So he needs money, and the Jones family has never been particularly flush with cash, just trampled over by FP’s failed “business opportunities.”

Enter: the banana stand.

It’s not the fastest revenue stream, Jughead finds. But it’s got potential.

Initially, Dilton doesn’t let him sell during the Twilight Drive-In’s concession stand hours. Before or after the movie, sure, but no overlap. “I’m not worried about competition, Jones. It’s just too humiliating for me to watch you sweat through that horrible yellow polo you call ‘branding.’”

But when customers asked him more than twice a night when the banana stand would be open, Dilton caved.

It’s not like being open during the screening hours is a whole lot more preferable. He only just transferred from Southside to Riverdale High last spring; now he’s the rising senior who hands out phallic symbols from inside a giant phallic symbol. Not exactly a boon to his popularity.

Still, recently the money is enough to pay the internet bill and keep JB fed for dinner when she can’t go to the summer breakfast and lunch program at the local park district. It’s still not enough for him to eat particularly well, and the smell of hot dogs and slurp of his classmates’ slushies makes the heat feel like a minor inconvenience.

He eyes the tip jar, willing himself to wait on rampaging the concession stand until the beginning of the film roar dies down. It’s a double feature tonight, which means maybe he can score enough cash to cover those damn college application fees his counselor will start hounding him about week one of school.

Then he sees her—Betty Cooper. She’s laughing, watching Archie Andrews try to catch popcorn in his mouth, tossed by his paramour, Veronica Lodge. She pauses to sip from her slushie straw, her lips—which he’s watched argue against homophobic and racist comments in their advanced lit class, or pressed to the cheek of her other best friend, Kevin Keller. Which he’s imagined, doing slightly less savory things, though the mere thought of said imagining has his heart pounding wildly.

(Jughead’s been eating way too many fucking bananas. Someone needs to check his potassium levels.)

His absolutely pathetic gaze, once available three times a day in their shared classes where Jughead has still not managed to exert any confidence whatsoever regarding speech, eye contact, or general acknowledgement of Betty Cooper’s existence other than whatever drooling may or may not be happening, all of which he finds he has no control over… is all interrupted by the absolute polar opposite of Betty Cooper. Hiram Lodge zooms up to the banana stand on his segway, angling to a stop just before taking out the stand’s foundation.

“Still getting a hang of that, Mayor Lodge?”

Hiram grimaces. “Just checking that you’ve renewed your business permit, Jones.”

They do this once a week. It’s still the same permit.

“You know,” Hiram starts as Jughead rustles for the paperwork to make him go the fuck away, “I could find you an arrangement with a better banana supplier. For a discount. If you’re interested.”

Jughead rolls his eyes. “I’m not interested in your GMO, black market bananas, Hiram.”

Hiram gives him a pointed look. Jughead rolls his eyes even harder. “Mayor Lodge.” He proffers the papers, Hiram waves them away. “I’ll take one chocolate peanut butter dip. With peanuts.”

Jughead kisses his teeth. “That will be $3.50.”

Hiram’s whole face goes serpentine. “Not between business partners, Jones. Put it on my tab.”

Jughead grits his teeth, handing the finished banana so aggressively he hopes that the chocolate splatters and stains Hiram’s $500 tie. It is only slightly worth it to watch Hiram struggle with navigating the segway one-handed, frozen banana in the other.

He muffles a chuckle before realizing he’s used the dead end of the chopped peanut topping, and exits the stand to update the order board hanging on the outside. It’s mostly an excuse to feel a ten degree drop in temperature, a sweet relief he might be able to extend by grabbing a hot dog before the intermission rush.

He’s crossing off peanuts from the topping list and spinning around when he hears a shriek and a sudden, cold slosh across his chest. The yellow polo drips with artificial blue slushie, but Jughead swallows his fucking hell when he sees that the shriek, gaping stare of horror, and stumble in question all belong to his very own blonde kryptonite.

“Oh my god. Oh my GOD, jesus, shit, I’m so sorry!”

Jughead is frozen while Betty grabs about half his napkin dispenser and starts pawing at his shirt in a vain attempt to right the giant sticky blue mess all over his chest.

Finally, Jughead swallows the golf ball in his throat and chokes out. “Honestly, it’s fine. That stand is a sauna. I needed that.”

Betty stops, both her blotting and her stream of apologizing (which includes a fair bit of cursing, and he is a little revolted with himself by how much this turns him on).

“It’s going to get very sticky, soon. Maybe I should buy a bottle of cold water?”

Jughead can’t help himself. “Oh, impromptu yellow t-shirt contest?”

Betty grins.

I did that.

“Do you have any employees who could bring you another shirt?”

Jughead shakes his head. “Just my sister. She’s playing video games at home. There’s no earthly way she’ll bring me a spare.”

Betty cocks her head. “I had a feeling you were more than the silent back row kind of guy.”

The fact that Betty Cooper has, at any point, considered what kind of guy he is triggers full-on nervous blathering. “I’m usually very tired at school. I have this little sister—but I’m kind of um, her guardian. So I’m doing this stupid banana stand thing because it’s like one of the three assets to our entire family name I guess? Anyway, it’s hard to engage with Haggly’s basic discussion questions at eight in the morning when you spent the whole night dreaming about wholesale banana margins.”

He’s essentially vomiting words, but Betty is still smiling.

“Anyway, I should crawl back into my fruit-shaped purgatory and let you go back to your friends.”

She’s biting her lip, hedging. “Honestly, they’re probably using the alone time to make out in the car, and I’d rather let them get all their sexual tension out so that I don’t have to feel it radiating off of them for the whole second half of the double feature.”

Jughead laughs and tamps down the impulse to offer her a frozen banana, because he cannot possibly say something like that without making it sound sexual.

“What are frozen banana profit margins like, anyway?” Betty asks, either genuinely interested or legitimately flirting with him. Jughead finds both potentials baffling.

Jughead hesitates, then ducks inside the stand, pulling out his spiral bound notebook. “I’m still kind of figuring it out. All my records are in here.”

Betty sidles up to the stand, taking up the whole window. They’re both leaning over the scribbled line items on college ruled paper; he can smell her shampoo. She takes the notebook, scanning thoroughly.

“Do you have a pencil?”

He hands her one and observes her going to work, writing out some algebraic formula and calculating quickly in her head. There is a calculator within his reach, but he thinks handing it to her might come off as an insult. (Jughead wouldn’t know; he assumes Betty is in an advanced math class. Jughead is not.)

After a few minutes of watching her devoted focus, thinking about her hands touching his pencil, thinking about her hands wrapped around his hand, or his—

“I don’t know how to tell this to you, Jug.”

The shortening of his name stops his heart for a jolt, and his response is embarrassingly delayed. “What is it?”

Betty winces but smiles through it, a combination she’s surely learned to use when delivering bad news. It’s well earned, it really does soften the blow.

“There’s no money in the banana stand. At least, not with these margins.”

Jughead finds himself less than devastated by this news, mostly because it makes a hell of a lot of sense. The messenger doesn’t hurt, either.

“But,” she interrupts. “I don’t know if you’ve nailed down your course load for senior year. But I’m taking AP Econ? This could be, um, a good project. Like, if you want to take the class. Or even if you don’t. Not that you’re like a project or… whatever. I’m just saying we could figure it out. Make lemonade out of… bananas.”

Betty Cooper is extremely cute when she stammers.

Jughead doesn’t know what to do, so he gives her an easy out. “I can’t like, hire you, if that wasn’t obvious by the whole… deficit spending or whatever the whole negative circled number at the bottom of the page really means.”

She flushes. “No, that would be highway robbery. I just thought there might be an… opportunity. For um, us. I mean, for you and I. I mean—” she clears her throat, as if it’s closing up. “An academic opportunity. Or, in your case, professional. Well, a betterment of your livelihood. Okay, um, shit, just… I should go!”

She turns away, her face the deepest scarlet he’s ever seen.

“Betty, wait.”

She pivots back, eyes down at the ground.

“How about I buy you a new slushie and you come back into the booth. Tell me everything I’m doing wrong for the rest of the night.”

Betty looks up, biting the corner of her smile. “Sounds like a deal.”

They shake on it.

#this is unhinged but i had to ok #I HAD TO #riverdalepromptathon #riverdale fanfiction #bughead fanfiction #riverdalepromptathonweek3

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chelsfic · 4 years

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Leftovers - Part 12/12 - Nandor the Relentless x Female Reader Fanfic

For Previous Parts: WWDITS Masterlist

Summary: The reader shares her last night alive with her new family.

A/N: I realized as I was writing this that this whole fic could really be read as an elongated metaphor for my falling in love with this show and this fandom. I hope you guys like this ending and aren’t disappointed.

Warnings: Angst, Emotions, Crack humor, Turning into a vampire

---

It’s an hour after sunset and you can hear your housemates stirring. You’re still lying in bed. The ceiling overhead is cracked and peeling in places. You suppose this probably won’t be your bedroom for much longer. Nandor will want you to move into his crypt. Will you have your own coffin? Or will he want to keep sharing? How does one even purchase a coffin for...personal use?

You know you’re stalling. Nandor is being uncharacteristically patient, but he won’t wait all night. You’re not afraid. Okay, you’re afraid. But, you’d be stupid not to be. You saw Guillermo during his transition. He looked like hell for about three whole days. But you know Nandor will take care of you. Well, strike that. You know Nandor will try to take care of you and if he fails, Nadja and Guillermo will be there.

The night you met...the night you almost became a meal...was your birthday. So much has happened since then. You’ve been kept prisoner, fed upon, attacked, hurt. You’ve also fallen in love with every vampire in this crazy house, even Colin Robinson, bless his heart. Nandor and his bizarre mix of vicious lust and achingly sweet softness has somehow pulled you into this world, into a place you’ve always belonged without even knowing it. So, yeah, you’re afraid. But the idea of not spending every night for the rest of eternity surrounded by these beautiful, damaged, stupid idiots is even more frightening.

A knock comes at your door and Nadja’s voice trills, “Hello, human? May I come in?”

You roll onto your side and sit up, dangling your bare legs over the edge of the bed. You’re wearing one of your few dresses because...well, because you’re going to die tonight and shouldn’t you dress up a little?

Nadja slips inside looking resplendent and deadly as always. She gives you a sympathetic smile and comes to sit next to you.

“Feeling a little nervous about our unholy transition, are we?” she ducks her head and gives you that mama-vampire-knows-best look of hers.

You lean your shoulder into hers, taking comfort in her presence.

“Maybe a little…” you admit. “I’m not having second thoughts or anything it’s just…”

“A little spooky wooky, yes?” Nadja supplies. She wraps her arm around your back and pulls you closer. “Don’t concern your head off, darling. I don’t know if you realize this but I am considered a bit of an expert. I’ve turned many, many humans in my time. Including my dear Laszlo. I’ll make sure Nandor does not slip up and accidentally make you into a zombie monstrosity like my poor Topher.”

You rear back and stare at Nadja with horror stricken eyes, “That’s a possibility!??”

Nadja chuckles and tweaks your nose, “I am giving you sarcasm! To lighten the mood! It’s working, yes?”

You let out a long-suffering sigh that hiccups into nervous laughter.

“I love you, Nadja,” you say with sudden, overwhelming emotion. You dive forward and wrap your arms around her in a fierce hug.

Nadja is stricken for a moment and she pats your back gingerly, “That’s...very nice. You think you want to come downstairs now? Because Nandor is being a real donkey dick down there waiting for you, but his balls are too shriveled to come up here and get you himself.”

You laugh and pull back from the hug, wiping tears from your eyes, “Yeah, let’s go. I’m ready.”

---

“SURPRISE!”

“HAPPY DEATHDAY!”

“SMASHLEY’S IN DA HOUSE!”

“What’s crack-a-lackin’?”

Nandor looks supremely put out when everyone yells something different as you walk through the door to the fancy room. Does no one listen to him? They had an agreed upon plan! He scowls at at the other vampires, especially fucking Colin Robinson, before sweeping over toward you and taking you from Nadja’s arm.

“Welcome to your Death Day Party! Do you like it?” Nandor looks down at you with those wide, sparkling eyes that make you forget he’s a centuries old blood-sucking fiend who once conquered nations and slaughtered thousands.

You take in your surroundings with a look of wonder. There’s a giant glitter banner hanging above the fireplace that reads “Congratulations on your Dark Awakening.” You recognize it as Nandor’s handiwork at once. Also, Guillermo has obviously been to Party City because everyone is wearing pointed birthday hats with little Dracula emojis all over them and the whole room is absolutely covered in crepe paper.

“It’s...so cute!” you squeal, grabbing him around the middle in an enthusiastic hug. This is...just want you needed. A little goofy, human levity before stepping off the edge of the unknown. Your eyes continue wandering over the room until they fall upon a long table set up against the wall. “Oh...my g--gahhhh--is that mac and cheese?”

The table is covered in dish after dish of all your favorite comfort foods. Macaroni and cheese, pizza, lasagna. Apple pie, blueberry pie, cherry pie! There’s a whole giant bowl of Reese’s peanut butter cups. You pull away from Nandor and dash across the room, launching yourself into Guillermo’s arms.

“You’re the sweetest monster I’ve ever known!” you cry, doing your best to squeeze the unlife out of him.

Guillermo laughs, “Listen, you’re going to be puking for days either way. You might as well have one last chance to enjoy human food.”

You roll your eyes, “Thanks for the reminder, Memo.”

“Alrighty!” Nandor is suddenly picking you up from behind and plucking you out of Guillermo’s arms. “That’s enough of that. Why don’t you have some of this--” he turns his head away from you and gags “--yummy food and then we’ll listen to some human musical arrangements that Nadja and Laszlo have prepared.”

Nandor hovers at your side, watching with a wrinkled nose as you pile food onto your plate. You’ve barely made a dent in the impressive spread and you’re feeling guilty about the waste when Colin Robinson ambles up.

“So, nervous about Nandor draining all your blood and killing you tonight?” he asks breezily.

You ignore the question and instead ask one of your own, “Hey, you think you can bring some of the leftovers into your office tomorrow? I’d hate to waste all this…”

Colin’s face lights with a maniacal grin, “Barbara’s on a diet...Yeah...this will be perfect!”

You settle onto one of the couches, sandwiched between Guillermo and Nandor. Both vampires look vaguely nauseated as you tuck into your food, but they’re holding it together.

Laszlo stands up with Nadja and starts strumming a guitar as he addresses everyone, “When I first met our human I assumed she’d soon be fertilizing my vulva garden--”

Nadja slaps his arm and Nandor hisses indignantly.

“But! But!” Laszlo continues, bowing with a flourish in your direction. “I came to realize that this particular human was something special. I decided to accept her into the fold. Mostly because she kept Nandor off my back and also my wife threatened to maim my testicles if I ate her…

“So, here we are, human. The last night of your life and we’ve got just one thing to say…”

The couple launches into a screeching, cloying rendition of “(I’ve had) The Time of my Life” from the Dirty Dancing soundtrack (blatantly stolen from Laszlo’s catalogue of compositions). Your face is frozen in horrified laughter and you flick your gaze to Guillermo’s to see that he’s covering his mouth to stifle his own laughs. On your other side, Nandor is clapping along and bobbing his head with the music. Yup, this is your tribe.

The party goes on for another couple hours. Laszlo and Nadja perform several more “hits” before finishing up with “The Girl in the Village with the Very Small Foot.” Nadja’s singing voice is still ringing in your ears when Nandor bends down to whisper, “It’s time, my human.”

The levity of the party has done a lot to calm your nerves, but you can’t help the sudden grip of anxiety around your throat at his words. You look up, falling, once again, into the fathomless depths of his lovely, dark eyes and you think, That’s what this is. You’re going to live in that deep, dark beauty from now on. There’s nothing scary about that.

You both stand up to leave and say your goodbyes. Laszlo and Colin wish you luck. Guillermo hugs you and presses several quick kisses to your cheeks as Nandor murmurs warningly, “Watch it!”

When he releases you, you’re suddenly engulfed in the arms of a crying Nadja.

“I do love you, you magnificent, ruthless baby!” she sobs. “Nandor, if you fuck this up I’m going to make a hat out of your asshole.”

You laugh into her shoulder and Nandor complains, “Yeesh! Alright, calm down, Nadja!”

By the time you’ve pried yourself from Nadja’s grip you’ve joined her in crying and your face is soaked. Who knew vampires could be so sentimental?

Nandor grimaces in distaste as he brings his hands up to wipe away the tears.

“Ready!?”

---

Nandor’s crypt looks just as it always does. No crepe paper or glitter in sight. Just the warm glow of candles, the rich red and gold accents of the decor, and the solid familiar bulk of the coffin where you’ve spent so many nights wrapped in his protective embrace. He leads you over to the chaise lounge and you both sit, fidgeting nervously and darting shy glances at one another.

Nandor plucks at the fabric of your dress, “This is nice.”

You smile faintly, “Thanks, I--I thought maybe I should dress up for the occasion. Is that stupid? I guess it’ll just get stained…”

“No,” Nandor cuts in, looking earnest and serious. “No, I’ll be careful.”

You nod and fall silent again. The knowledge of what you’re about to do seems to hang like a thick curtain between you. The easy intimacy that you’ve shared is strained with the gravity of what is to come. Nandor finally huffs out an exasperated sigh and pulls you into his lap. At first you think he’s just going to bite the bullet, so to speak, and dig into your neck at once. But instead he grabs your face and pulls you into a searing, all-consuming kiss.

He tangles his fingers in your hair, pushing his tongue into your mouth with a low groan. You stroke your hands down the long column of his throat, running them across his broad shoulders and down his back. How this man--this perfectly imperfect, wonderfully fragile, fierce warrior man--has come to choose you, you can’t begin to understand. For countless other human souls, catching the eye of Nandor the Relentless has meant grim misfortune. For you, finding yourself the prey of a murderous vampire is the best thing that’s ever happened in your life.

Except maybe being MVP at last year’s championship bout.

Nandor’s lips fall away and he looks up at you, panting heavily with his hair mussed and tangled. His gaze flicks down to your exposed throat and you see him swallow in anticipation. He reaches for something on an end table and shows you the stainless steel travel mug containing his blood. You take it from him noting the strip of masking tape on the lid with Nandor’s elegant scrawl--his name and the date.

You snort, setting the container down on the cushions beside you and looking back up at Nandor.

“Prepare yourself, my mortal,” he growls, fangs elongating and eyes flashing with a predatory gleam.

You turn your head, baring your neck for your vampire boyfriend, and answering lightly, “I have a name, you know.”

---

THE END

A/N: Hey, thank you so so so much to everyone who read and supported this fic from the beginning! Your comments and encouragement mean the world to me!

Tags:

@festering-queen, @kandomeresbitch, @strangestdiary, @glitterportrait, @scuzmunkie, @redwoodshadows, @sarasxe, @rileyomalley

#nandor the relentless #nandor x reader #nandor the relentless x reader #nandor the relentless imagine #wwdits fanfic #wwdits #what we do in the shadows

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xpeachesncream · 3 years

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my tears are because of my cramps and not because i just read ch12

i was just reading and reading and reading and suddenly : taglist

i didn’t feel sorry for jungkook, when jimin gave him a piece of his mind i was like go jimin wohoooo

but then,, oh boy

like how can you be so dense ??? why on earth would you go upstairs with that chick ?? what made you think that letting her suck you off will do you any good when you want your “girl” back ?? you don’t do shit like that when you want to fix a relationship with someone you want/care for romantically

then bolts out of the house after oc and starts with the pathetic nothing happened… sweetie did your zipper wanted to go explore the area there or why was it open

i felt so sorry for oc🥺🥺when she came clean about their relationship i was like my poor bby

howeveeeeer i still managed to feel a liiiiiiittle bit sorry for jk, but only for a moment when he was like please🥺 but then the moment faded and i was like i hope you think they gave up on you for good and now you’re gonna cry through the whole night and day until they talk it out with you i’m actually really nice i swear 🤞🏻

it was always going to be Jungkook🥺🥺my too much angst but with happy ending lover heart can't take it

it’s 11:30pm so i’m gonna go and sleep and bet just like the last 3times i’m gonna dream about this idiot and his poor angel girl

I LOVE U FIRST AND FOREMOST and i hope you got some sleep after bb! ❤️

jimin was fed the hell up cause like why in the H E L L did jungkook think he could just walk up in there and ask to play?! 🥴 sir?! and the whole thing with jennie?? a PUPPET!

but our peanut did what had to be done! hopefully jungkook learns, he deserved it and he should cry (pls but still make up or whateva, im not that evil either lol 😭) hard part is over tho! TY FOR STICKING WITH ME THRU THIS RIDE! 🥰

#asks #xpeachesncream #wearenot7withu✨#lowkey series

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vmfx · 4 years

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FRACTURE.

I had a bad right shoulder. I had it for most of my life. It occurred as I rode my bike and somewhat somehow lost control, causing myself to hurl over the front of the bike and land shoulder first onto the concrete. Somewhere along the healing process I happened to be unlucky: both the bone and muscle grew into each other which caused atrophy and severely limited the movement of my arm. Tiny shards of bone also were given birth and settled within my shoulder, pinching the nerves and muscle resulting in sharp stings equivalent of electrodes shooting through my right arm. I have had two operations to remove the shards but was told by my orthopedist that the shoulder could not be fully repaired. Looking at pictures of myself, you would not suspect that there’s physically wrong with me and on the surface things actually do look normal, but in reality they are not.

I also had this job that deals directly to the public mostly focusing in basic goods, nothing special. There was no intelligent discourse about statistics, proper methods, Fibonacci spirals, hexa-decimals, or blueprints. None. Instead, the core audience of patrons were simpletons, idiots, and know-nothings. The belligerent, the feisty, and the damp fish-wives who couldn’t be told anything. People who magically believed were royalty and constantly demanded, repeated themselves, or argued to the death over the most inconsequential things. People who were way too nice, non-specific, or simply went blank because they usually had no clue. So this should tell you about the mentality of some of our customers.

Put the two together and the cards thrown at me is putting up with the absolute worst in people I ever have the misfortune of dealing with.

One afternoon I took the next customer. She was a fading middle-aged woman with a tye-dye shirt. After I take her number and started helping her, she brought up the issue of my shoulder.

“Hey…um, what happened to your shoulder?”

“Ma’am, don’t worry about it---“

“Because I notice you are---“

And then she started impersonating me. Her interpretation of me, which I never even opened my mouth to her for, was this over-exaggerating heaving and hobbling over on one side a la the Hunchback of Notre Dame, as her eyes almost rolled to the back of her head and her mouth wide open as if she was gasping for breath. Yes, that was her version of me, because I really needed to know someone else’s vision of what I look like when I am walking around in public.

And I just stood there watching her make a fool of herself, entertaining but ultimately embarrassing herself in the process. My eyes were locked in position. My face was in disdain. I looked to move on but she wanted to complete her curiosity, something I absolutely refused to entertain.

“Ma’am, what else would you like?”

“But what happened to your shoulder?”

“Ma’am, what else would you like?”

“Ummm, I…”

“Ma’am, what else would you like?”

“Ohhh…I didn’t mean to—-“

“Ma’am, what else would you like?”

Yes, it took me four tries to see what else she needed because she was that stupid. Four tries before she realized how much of a nosy, insensitive, ignorant misfire she was. Four tries before her whole world started moving again and left her dumbstruck self behind. She finally given up and told me the rest of her order before she said something about an apology and really feeling sorry, which she should have.

If not for my managers being present at that moment, I would have lashed out at her. But I held onto everything I could and stopped short of humiliating her in return to not strike out and get fired on the job.

I gave her the final part of her order. As she spent her one last attempt at saving herself, I quickly walked away, abandoning her and throwing her out for good.

**********

Poor examples like that are exactly why I never bring my shoulder issue up. I don’t need to drop everything I am doing to waste my time, energy, and wind on explaining something most people will forget about in five minutes…something which is none of their business in the first place.

Most of these people don’t get it. They are trained and taught to see and learn certain things around them by the books, TV, or movies on a regular basis. When they do notice or see something that’s not normal to them, they turn into invasive idiots. Idiots, who instead of keeping to themselves and figure it out on their own, need the easy answers fed to them right there and now. They only seem or pretend to care, and if they really did, they could offer some real help in the form of a calling card to an orthopaedist instead of spending that time looking like a deer in truck headlights.

That person that I dealt with chose to be uneducated, misunderstanding, and foolish. She settled to make a quick laugh out of my expense by showing me how I acted in public, and in return I showed her exactly just how unfunny and pathetic she really was.

**********

But that’s not all.

Another moron customer asked me what was wrong with my shoulder. I respectfully told her that I was not allowed to talk about my personal issues. As I walked away, I overheard her get the attention of another co-worker who was doing something more important and asked her about me and my shoulder. I almost lost it. Here was someone, whose blank mind couldn’t take “no” for an answer and decided to run through the backdoor for the win after being told to get lost. The ninth-rate know-nothing who had a lack of personal respect and the inability to mind her business couldn’t move on without the answer to those urgent burning questions.

Yet time had passed and the intrusiveness and nosiness had gotten even worse. Mostly it comes from the town where I work, and it seems like my situation has now become a fascination to the point where it’s now becoming increasing creepy and disgusting.

I recently had a situation where I came out of my car and walked across the parking lot to get to work. I was approached by a man who stood in the middle of said parking lot. He asked me for directions and at first I thought he was a mild-mannered person. When I was in the middle of answering him he interrupted me and asked about my injury. I just shook my head, walked away, and said nevermind. As I walked away from him, he followed me and still questioned me about it. Directions were no longer on his mind as he now asked me what was wrong and was still flustered to. He was constantly apologizing to me to the point where he was stammering but I wanted absolutely none of it as I walked right into work. The human question-mark finally stopped short at the entrance as he was left behind and already forgotten about, never to be paid attention to again; Another situation declared a dead issue as far as I was concerned. But nothing could compare to what else I had experienced:

One afternoon I decided to get some peanut-butter cups around the corner down the block to the highway gas station. When I walked down the service road I see that someone was slowing down while driving past me in a beat-up pickup but I thought nothing of it. About fifty feet from my destination I look up to find that same driver, who happened to be very interested in my injury and my personal life, literally waiting for me at the door in front of the gas station. The closer I approached the entrance was when I noticed him ogling at me with his mouth half-open in such fascination. He started asking about my injury for a good fifteen seconds before he put me through repeated assurance to help equate his childlike curiosity before I was allowed into the store.

Maybe the world would be a better place if people would mind their own fucking business and let others be.

(An expired story.)

#VMFX #writing #wow #WTF #oops #Long Island #personal #health

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in-tua-deep · 5 years

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Hi, I'm the anon who asked for the fluffiest most heartwarming headcanons and they really cheered me up thank you so much! ❤️

asdfghASFGHJ i can give some more random headcanons if you’d like >:3c

we’re gonna go with a theme of food since i went grocery shopping today

After a while in the apocalypse, some things started to grow back. Plants are tough, and a fantastic way to supplement a diet of insects if you know which ones are edible

that’s a long way to say that the siblings witness Five just stuff an Entire Flower into his mouth and he also randomly will stoop while walking and just grab some clover or something and stuff it in his pockets

“And y’all say I’m weird.” Klaus says while they watch Five absently pick and eat an entire patch of dandelions on their Forced Family Bonding Picnic

Five isn’t the only one with food issues - Klaus and Ben also come with food issues and surprisingly Luther also has food insecurity thanks to his time on the moon (everyone noticed that nice note which asked his dad to please remember to send more food right)

Klaus lived with homelessness and Ben hasn’t eaten actual food since he died regardless of the fact that Klaus always sets a place for him or saves him a cup of coffee or tea to include him, and the day that Klaus manages to make Ben manifest enough to actually eat and drink is going to be a Whole Barrel Full of Emotions

honestly what i’m saying is that there is some really wholesome mealtime shenanigans where everyone takes turns providing dinner or lunch and everyone has to attend because it’s family time and there is. varying level of success.

Luther’s food is a little basic but edible enough once they all grab some seasoning. He doesn’t do anything fancy with it, but he can put together a fairly solid meal - and if he actually genuinely studied for this and watched a bunch of youtube channels on cooking well he’s allowed to do whatever he wants on his free time thank you very much

Diego is. Well. He’s been living on his own for a while he’s technically capable of putting a meal together. And if everyone is served scrambled eggs on toast then hey it’s breakfast for dinner shut up that’s a real thing screw you all. (He might have forgotten it was his turn until someone casually mentioned it and he had to make do with whatever was in the kitchen oops)

Allison looks competent in her life but the first time it’s her turn to do dinner they end up having to order pizzas because Allison gets distracted and everything burns. There is some extreme heist shenanigans scrubbing everything down and busting out the air fresheners before Five gets back and Five scowls when he finds out but is actually endeared though he’d never admit it

Everyone expects Klaus’s dinner to be a fucking disaster and it was but that disaster is not what the family was fed so it all turns out okay in the end. Mainly because they went shopping earlier and ended up with a bunch of freezer food and so the family is served a wonderful mean of turkey dinosaur shaped nuggets with sides of kraft mac n’ cheese and microwaveable steamed broccoli

look Klaus is easily distracted and inclined to experiment to the point of inedibility which is not a fantastic combination for family dinner night. the only reason it goes decently is because Ben exists to act as Klaus’s one brain cell and Ben’s intervention depends entirely on how much his siblings have pissed him off this week so.

Five probably just fucking. Proudly dumps a bunch of cans of food on the table and considers his job in ‘providing’ for his family done. When question he defensively says “they aren’t even out of date yet!” and everyone is left squinting at these metal tubes containing their dinner

Next meal though, after much explanation on what they mean by family dinner nights, is probably some kind of stew?? probably a really bizarre and weird veggie stew because you can just kind of toss whatever in a stew pot and go with it which is probably one of the only real things he knows how to make. He may or may not build a fire in the courtyard to cook it since he isn’t sure how to do it making an oven and stove but like. baby steps y’all baby steps.

Ben gets to opt out of being in the roster for family dinner nights due to. his dead-ness. plus the fact that Klaus isn’t reliable in keeping him corporeal yet, but he does make some bomb ass desserts on klaus’s dinner nights when klaus has the energy to manifest him (as long as ben bugs klaus to remember to get whatever it is out when it’s ready)

Vanya makes so many casseroles y’all. When she was on her own she looked up stuff she could make that could be made in one dish and kind of went from there. Did she watch too many shows as a kid where a kindly neighbor brought over some casserole? probably. but her food is actually both edible, homemade, and freeze-able which puts her a leg up on pretty much all of her siblings tbh

the last day of the week, bc ben doesn’t cook, goes to Grace and everyone eagerly awaits those days because let’s be real Grace’s food is the best food and yeah, they might have come up with this thing to give her a break in the first place but damn if she isn’t the real expert and at one point or another they all end up seeking out her advice which she is always pleased by

Five might mainline coffee but surprise! He’s actually not alone in that. Vanya has long long hours of orchestra practice and needs a kick to stay awake, and Allison is completely unashamed with her starbucks obsession. Klaus is always eager to accompany Allison and gets the biggest most sugary drinks possible (as long as she’s paying)

Vanya does try to switch and keep to teas though. Especially after the whole apocalypse debacle. Look her powers are linked to her emotions and she’s going to drink whole gallons of calming whatever tea if it means she isn’t going to punt her idiot brothers through a few walls and go full on Carrie (even if they totally deserve it). She does have some regrets about the frequent bathroom breaks though

Luther is the sibling who tries the teas with Vanya. It’s quiet, they don’t really have to talk to each other, and it’s supposed to be calming so it’s their little bonding thing since god they both need it a lot tbh

Diego thinks coffee pollutes his system and probably keeps a whole bunch of sports drinks. and SMOOTHIES or like those dumb blended drinks? everyone loses respect for him the day they witness him voluntarily drink something with not one but multiple raw eggs in it

even Diego “my body is a temple” Hargreeves balks at Allison’s health smoothies which havekale in them. Allison insists they don’t taste that bad but everyone sees her grimacing when she thinks they aren’t looking. The only one that dares drink Allison’s smoothies is Five and everyone is convinced his taste buds died with the rest of the world in the apocalypse

Allison and Diego team up at least once to try and get the rest of the siblings to go on a health kick. Luther reluctantly joins their side because of the power of Allison and is regarded as a traitor by the rest. Vanya was almost persuaded until Allison said they were having spaghetti and brought out spaghetti squash.

Klaus is ardently against this health kick because he wants waffles for breakfast, mainly. Five is only against it out of spite because they tried to throw away his marshmallows for his sandwiches

Klaus gets really hungry after using his powers to manifest Ben. His power is usually passive but when he’s actively using it, he’s burning calories. This probably leads to at least one collapse before Five elbows his way in to coach Klaus on How Not To Pass Out and to keep snacks on his person

Five’s power is similar in that jumps burn calories for him, which is why he almost never jumped in the apocalypse unless his life was in danger. The peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches were created to give himself some much needed calories and energy. He fainted a lot as a kid and knows how to handle this kind of bullshitbut Klaus is kind of garbage at taking care of himself so i mean. it’s a big old learning curve going on and tbh both Klaus AND Five don’t eat enough they’re both too skinny smh

Everyone takes turns going grocery shopping except for Five and Klaus. Five because he’s not driving to the store alone because he might get arrested (plus his grasp of paying for things is. very loose).

Klaus because of the Incident that Shall Not Be Mentioned involving a local grocery chain store, an entire aisle of baby food, just a little bit of public nudity, and a wet floor sign. That, and Klaus always came back with the most ridiculous things possible anyway so

Klaus tries to wheedle everyone into letting him go because Ben is with him, guys! But no one falls for this. Ben is petty and will take Klaus’s side or egg him on almost as much as he acts as Klaus’s sole brain cell, and Klaus also has a history of ignoring Ben even when he is acting like that one brain cell

Klaus does occasionally tag along with the others. Mainly Diego, because Diego has a not-so-secret Klaus-shaped soft spot. Klaus usually demands to ride in the trolley and knocks things off shelves like a small toddler or particularly mischievous cat

Everyone in the house teams up to make sure Klaus eats at least one (1) fruit or vegetable at least every other day

okay that’s all i got for now i have to take a shower but enjoy ;3c

#ask me #anonymous #tua #the umbrella academy #tua headcanons #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #number five #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #some headcanons to do with food !!#i thought it would be fun #they're all disasters tbh #allison had to grow up from age eighteen with hollywood's bizarre dieting culture #luther had food insecurity up the wazoo #diego ate RAW EGGS #klaus was homeless and had food insecurity #five's food insecurity doesn't even need mentioning #boy ate COCKROACHES #ben can't eat anymore!! let's talk about that!#how much would he give to actually eat a waffle!!#a whole lot is the answer!#vanya is the only siblings with an actual healthy relationship with food in any way and that's the tea on that #and honestly i wouldn't be surprised if she had food issues as well smh

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misssophiachase · 4 years

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Remember this story? If not, I don’t blame you! I have been adding (and in some cases amending) my fics and uploading to AO3 and am hoping to get a couple done because they are almost finished. Thanks to @romanoffsbite for the stunning cover : ) Click on the cover above for the link to the full story on AO3. It’s also on FF HERE

Synopsis: British Ambassador to the USA, Klaus Mikaelson, needs a babysitter to look after his daughter. Enter nanny, Caroline Forbes.

Lessons in Diplomacy - Chapter 7: Attaché

British Embassy, 3100 Massachusetts Avenue NW, Washington DC

"I know this isn't exactly what you had in mind when we discussed a date." Klaus looked at Caroline apologetically hoping that she understood. Klaus was used to his job disrupting every other facet of his life, but it had been so long since he liked someone, let alone went on a date, that he wasn't familiar with the protocol.

As if his job wasn't difficult and time-consuming enough, he also had an eight-year-old who required constant care. Darcy had woken earlier that day with a stomach ache and he'd been reluctant to leave.

Klaus had spent the past week planning their date and had made reservations at one of the best new restaurants in DC as per Rebekah's recommendation. He could have hired a sitter for the evening but given Jane had recently decided to retire from her post and Caroline was his alternate he didn't have much choice. Not seeing Caroline wasn't an option, it had already been six days since the ice hockey game and Klaus was greedy for some alone time without the peanut gallery (also known as his siblings) commenting.

"I don't know," she murmured. "At least I get fed, so that's something sort of date-like. How's Darcy feeling?" His face softened, he liked the fact she was so concerned for his daughter even though they'd only met a few times.

"Well, last time I checked she was asking the chef for some chocolate brownies, so I think we can safely say the worst of it is over," he explained.

Klaus was worried that Darcy wasn't okay with him dating Caroline given her miraculous recovery earlier. He figured it would be difficult for an eight-year-old to get their head around the fact their babysitter was also dating their father. Klaus was solely devoted to Darcy and she always came first, no matter what. That's why he thought it was important to check she was okay.

One hour earlier

"So, brownies hey?" He asked, approaching his daughter. She was lying in bed, hair in messy pigtails and wearing pajamas while watching Frozen on her iPad for what Klaus swore was the millionth time. If he was told to 'Let it Go' one more time, he'd lose it.

"I haven't eaten all day, I was hungry," she whined. Klaus took a seat next to her and ruffled her hair affectionately.

"For chocolate, Darce, really?"

"I think it's the only thing that will make me feel better," she argued. "Trust me on this, dad."

"Oh, so you're now a medical expert?" She gave him a look which meant he wasn't funny. "Everything else is okay, right? I mean, besides the stomach ache?"

"It's fine," she answered, scrunching her nose up in that adorable manner he loved. "Well, except for the lack of brownies."

"You know Caroline is coming over tonight, right?"

"Can we play together? I want to show her my new nail polish and tell her all about what Marcy Johnson did for show-and-tell. Oh, and we need to read the next chapter of The Little Prince." The fact she spoke so excitedly and seemed to genuinely like Caroline filled him with warmth.

"Well, actually she's coming to see me tonight. You know how I told you last week that I like Caroline and wanted to spend some time with her?" She nodded. "Would that be okay? I promise you can see her next time."

"As long as you promise," she smiled.

"Pinky swear," he grinned, interlacing fingers with her. He then leaned down and murmured in her ear. "How about I get Marjorie to bring you up some of those brownies, sweetheart?"

"Well, I actually brought her a little something, there's nothing worse than being stuck in bed sick with nothing to do," Caroline murmured bringing him out of his trance and handing him a brightly coloured bag.

"You really didn't have to, Caroline," he smiled warmly, thinking just how kind and considerate she was, amongst other things.

"It's nothing," she replied. "I know that she's trying to out-do Marcy Johnson on show-and-tell so I thought this might help." Klaus was beginning to think this Marcy Johnson was going to be a problem and the fact Caroline knew, and after such minimal contact, was extremely telling. She obviously mistook his silence for something else. "I know it isn't all about competition.."

"The hell it isn't," he laughed.

"Like father like daughter," she teased. "Although I've been known to get a little competitive myself, just ask Katherine about our days in the Cheer Squad." Klaus had to admit the visual of Caroline in a tiny skirt and pompoms wasn't entirely unwelcome. He coughed, attempting to regain his composure.

"How is Katherine? I asked Elijah after the ice hockey but he's like a vault, no one is getting any information from him. I always thought he would have been an absolute asset in the secret service."

"Good apparently," she murmured. "Although given your sister's interest in her designs, Katherine's workload has increased ten-fold, not that she's complaining. I've always known Katherine was talented but it's really great to see it finally acknowledged."

"That's good news," he smiled, thinking how generous Rebekah could be and happy that her best friend was the recipient.

"When I left tonight she was still at her atelier, apparently your brother was dropping past to get fitted for a suit for Saturday's reception."

"And here I thought she already had his measurements," he grinned knowingly. "So, I probably should invite you inside given this is a date and everything?"

They were still standing in the front hall and Klaus watched as Caroline shed her excessive layers of clothing to ward off the chill outside. Her blonde hair hung in loose waves around her shoulders and her creamy skin was tinged pink from the cold air.

It wasn't until the last layer, in the form of a thick, woollen scarf, came off that Klaus was stunned into silence. He'd seen her mostly in jeans and casual clothes which were flattering anyway but she'd certainly made an impression with tonight's outfit. The little, black dress fit her perfectly and highlighted every delectable curve. He felt his mouth go dry, willing himself to speak but nothing was coming out.

"What's wrong? She asked, looking down at her ensemble. "Do I have something on me?"

"No, " he stammered. "You just, uh, you look.."

"And here I thought diplomacy was about being a good conversationalist?" She smirked, her blue eyes twinkling mischievously.

"You look stunning, Caroline, not that you don't always look good because..."

"It's okay," she soothed, placing her hand over his. "Message received," Klaus mentally kicked himself thinking what an idiot he must sound like to Caroline. He planned to be confident and suave but obviously the horse had bolted on that. "So, what's for dinner?"

They were taste testing the menu for his welcome reception on the weekend and Caroline had offered to play guinea pig for the evening. Klaus much preferred her as his date than having to sit through it with Rebekah and her excessive amount of opinions.

"Just so you know, Rebekah tells me there's no foie gras or black truffles on the menu. She wanted to avoid any messiness on the night."

"Now the real Klaus Mikaelson is back," she teased. "You realize there won't be another date with me, outside or inside the Embassy if you continue to bring that up? I could talk about your form at the ice hockey game the other night if you'd prefer?"

"I know it's called a puck," he replied defensively.

"I'm glad you called though," she smiled. Klaus couldn't get over how one smile could take his breath away but Caroline wasn't like anyone he'd ever met. "It's nice to know you're not that guy who says he'll call and doesn't."

"The twenty-something-year-old, college me probably would have," he explained. "But I haven't been that guy for a very long time."

"Since Darcy was born?" Klaus knew he'd changed a lot since his daughter came into his life but he also knew that he'd matured long before that.

He paused briefly gesturing in the direction of the dining room so he could compose his answer while they walked. As they did, members of his house staff smiled and greeted Caroline personally on the way.

"Wow, I've been here so many times that people know me. Do you realize that I didn't even have to tell the security guys outside why I was here? Usually, they are so foreboding and serious but I swear I saw Ahmed crack a smile."

"You got Ahmed to smile? I'm impressed, love. Let's just say word travels fast around here, mainly due to my nosy siblings who have no filter whatsoever as you witnessed the other night," he chuckled. "Just consider yourself my personal attaché."

"Attaché for what? Last time I checked I don't have the requisite skills to be your military aide or any other aide for that matter," she laughed.

"How about we stick with Personal Attaché to the Ambassador?"

"And what exactly does the Personal Attaché to the Ambassador do, Your Excellency?"

"They stop saying Your Excellency like that because the Ambassador might lose all sense of control and want to skip dinner altogether."

"Oh I know what this is about," she purred. "You make a girl come to your house and expect her to put out. Just so you know, I'm not that easy, mister." Klaus hadn't expected the night to go there so soon and he'd be lying if that comment teamed with the cheerleader visual wasn't messing with him.

"I happen to think it will be well worth the wait," he smiled, pulling out her chair.

"Now, there's that diplomacy in action."

"The chair yes, but just so you know, my diplomacy doesn't extend to that familiar kind of language. If I'd said that to the Ukrainian Ambassador I'd be on the floor," he joked. "She has black belts in both Taekwondo and Aikido."

"Just so you know, I'm glad you only say things like that to me," she smiled, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek before taking a seat at the table. "And I'd be willing to fight the Ukrainian Ambassador for you, in case you're wondering."

"You've got to stop saying things like that, love," he murmured. "I think we definitely need to eat before I do or say something untoward." She giggled, sending him a sly smile from across the table.

Katherine Pierce Designs Inc, Cady's Alley, 3318 M St NW

"You do realize I have your measurements, right?" Katherine asked, smiling at the eldest brunette.

Elijah had called her earlier in the week to ask if she'd fit him for a new suit for the Welcome Reception. She'd agreed but also mentioned how busy she was and he'd suggested dropping past her atelier to make it easier.

"It doesn't hurt to double-check," he offered. "Plus, I brought you dinner to say thank you." He held up a brown paper bag enticingly. The combination of hunger and relief on her face was enough to tell Elijah he'd made the right call.

"I love you," she smiled, grabbing the bag excitedly before realizing what she'd said. "Oh, well, I, well you know what I mean."

"You must be starving given that response," he chuckled. "I promise I won't take any offense."

They walked inside and she cleared her table so they could eat. Elijah could tell she was tired but he didn't think she had ever looked more beautiful with her long, dark locks pulled into a ponytail, wearing simple jeans and a t-shirt combination with a measuring tape hanging around her neck as if it was an accessory.

Elijah Mikaelson was a professional and cautious person who was solely focused on his work. The fact he was so successful and wealthy was case in point. He didn't often let himself feel or get involved with anyone but there was something about Katherine Pierce that had intrigued him from the moment she spilled hot coffee all over him.

Yes, at first he was angry but decided that was due to the hot, scalding water rather than the woman who did it. She'd not only apologized repeatedly but had fitted him with a brand new suit for his meeting. Elijah didn't consider himself a clothes horse but if there was one thing he knew it was how a well-fitting suit should look and feel. And hers were not only classic, but they were also well-tailored.

"You don't have to buy another suit you realize?" She stated, clearing her plate and looking up at him curiously. "Oh come on, Elijah, I know you have like a thousand suits you could wear on the weekend."

"Well, maybe not a thousand," he joked. "And yes, maybe I could, but I want a Katherine Pierce original to mark my Washington DC Embassy debut. I also happen to know that both Niklaus and Kol would like to be fitted up as well."

"You realize I'm good but not that good, right?" She asked, mouth agape. "Especially with all the business your sister has thrown my way before the big reception for your brother. I'll be making suits until next month at this rate. Not that I'm complaining, of course, your family's generosity has been amazing."

"Well, Rebekah has her moments," he teased. "Maybe I got a little carried away." He was staring at her earnestly now, afraid to tell her how he felt, especially after such a short time but also knowing exactly what to say, he was new to all of this. He noticed a slight but adorable blush cross her cheeks.

"I like a man who gets carried away," she cooed. Elijah moved around the table, deciding that once he got to her he'd hopefully know what he was doing until his cell decided to ring and interrupt the moment.

He was so close to her now, his lips mere inches from hers. Elijah looked at her helplessly, he wasn't one to ignore calls especially if they were work-related. He noted the caller ID. It wasn't his work but he felt a sudden need to answer it.

"Answer it," she murmured, her hand brushing his arm briefly. "I'll go get your suit and we can start the fitting." He nodded, thinking his brother was going to pay for interrupting him.

"Kol? What's going on?"

"You need to get down to the hospital right now, there's been an accident."

British Embassy, 3100 Massachusetts Avenue NW, Washington DC

"So, is it a bad sign that we aborted the taste-testing to scoff Darcy's brownies in the kitchen instead?" Caroline asked, licking the remnant chocolate from her fingers while moaning about its delicious flavor. Klaus decided then and there it wasn't safe for her to do that in his presence unless sex was in their future. But given it was kind of their first date he knew that was not a possibility.

"We don't have to tell her," he replied, taking another bite. "Plus there was nothing wrong with the menu, we both just decided we wanted to binge on brownies more than canapés and whatever that crab, artichoke and brie thing was."

"Yeah, that was, uh, interesting. Is Darcy going to be upset we ate her dessert?"

"Oh, you mean my naughty daughter who was supposedly so sick with a stomach ache that she couldn't go to school today?"

"You wouldn't want to go either if Marcy Johnson was in your class," she quipped. "I had a Marcy Johnson except her name was Dana Andrews and she tried to beat me at everything."

"Is there something I should know about this Marcy Johnson you know besides her views on how boys act when they like girls?" Klaus was beginning to think he was a bad father given both Caroline and Darcy knew all about her and he had absolutely no clue. "If she is bullying my daughter..."

"Chill, Klaus," she soothed. "Marcy is just an annoying know-it-all, but we've got it in hand. Bonnie said she and Kol are taking her to the zoo next week so she'll have plenty to talk about for show-and-tell."

"It's remarkable how much you know about my daughter and her movements," he laughed. "I didn't even realize Kol was taking her to the zoo but I suppose he'll fit right in with his animal friends. It's nice of Bonnie to babysit both Kol and Darcy for me on her day off."

"You realize she likes Kol, right?" Klaus was dumbfounded. Sure, he had the tendency to miss certain things but that fairly big detail he would have known about. Well, he thought so anyway.

"No, they can't stand each other," he explained. "At first I thought it was this cute banter thing but Bonnie is way too smart to be seduced by him and we all know Kol likes to play the field too much to even consider a steady relationship, especially one with my best friend."

"I don't think excessive rambling is going to make it any less true, Klaus," she replied, rolling her eyes. "Bonnie couldn't take her eyes off him when he was playing the other night, plus she told me all about how Kol ends up in her ER all the time due to injuries. Coincidence, I think not."

"Well, I'll be damned. Is there anything else I don't know?"

"I think your sister and the bodyguard are in denial, I sat next to them at the hockey and the combustible energy between them is enough to..."

"Okay enough about my siblings and their sexual urges," he drawled. "I never thought our date would descend into a discussion about them and Darcy's know-it-all nemesis from school." As he said it Klaus, couldn't help but feel completely happy and comfortable in her presence and how things had turned out. It was as if he'd known her for years, not weeks.

"Caroline..." he murmured, his voice raspy. He ran his hands through her waves and pulled her closer, his sole focus on her lips. He was wondering if they were as soft as they looked and if they'd taste like chocolate. Klaus figured it was time to find out.

His phone rang at that exact moment. He wanted to ignore it and finally kiss her without distraction but Caroline had already pulled away from his grasp and was picking up his phone from the counter.

"It's the zoo animal," she explained holding it up so he could see the name Kol displayed on the screen. He faltered, thinking it could probably wait but the moment between them had passed and given Kol knew they had a date he figured it must be important.

"Niklaus," he said before Klaus could speak. "You need to get down to the hospital." Klaus felt sick from all of the memories it evoked, it wasn't the first call he'd had like that before.

"What's happened?"

"It's Enzo, he was shot on duty and they're not sure if he's going to make it through the night."

#yes i'm back #lessons in diplomacy #misssophiachase #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline #my writing

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lesbian-peanut-writer · 5 years

Text

Meal at Work

So... here’s a little piece that I never actually got around to posting on my old blog. Nothing wrong with a little bit of Stingue, it’s amazing how much my writing had changed from when I first wrote this to now. Had to rewrite some bits because they were just horrible but hopefully, you all enjoy this. Also, pretty sure this was spurred on by @cheeky-kitsune when I first wrote it.

~Lesbian Peanut

It was a day just like any other, everything was as it should have been within the confines of the great Sabertooth Guild’s walls and honestly, that’s how most people liked it to be first thing in the morning. The sound of casual laughter could be heard out of the main hall, the result of various mages telling tales of their grandeur and the things they had encountered on their adventures. Tired smiles could be found all around the expanse of the hall on the faces of Mages not long returned from their jobs, while others left the Guild with a spring in their step and enthusiasm in their hearts. It was unusual for people not to have a spring in their step when it came to the Sabertooth Guild, unfortunately for two souls this morning this just wasn’t to be the case…

Tucked away in the cramped darkness of his own office, Sting Eucliffe the designated Master of the Sabertooth Guild was extremely busy. He had been taking every measure possible to avoid contacting his office for quite some time now and because of it, the paperwork had begrudgingly piled up on his desk to the point of overflowing. There was nothing more on this great earth that the Dragon Slayer despised more than the endless flow of paperwork that hit his desk every day. There was a mixture of mission requests, damage repairs and legal documents from the Magic Council in the piles, as well as various other forms the man had to put his signature to in order to keep the guild functioning properly. To Sting, it felt as though his life revolved around signing documents at his desk all day long and nothing else, he missed being able to take missions as he pleased.

A grunt of protest let Sting’s lips as he was smacked on the top of his head harshly, his mind had wandered away from him halfway through signing one of the many important documents before him. He looked up at his silent partner as he stood next to his desk, a thick stack of papers held tight in his head as he looked down at Sting with a look that bordered on infuriated and boredom. Though Sting loved to have the man’s company while he was trapped in his office doing his work, his partner made things a little stressful when he was constantly shoving papers in his face. Sure, he was aware how tiring this whole ordeal was for the man but it wasn’t like he asked for him to stay by his side while he worked on the paperwork.

To say that Rogue Cheney was not in the mood to be standing at the edge of his partner’s desk was an understatement, but doing this was the only way to ensure that the blonde man kept on top of the work he was supposed to do. Rogue narrowed his eyes in annoyance as he realised that Sting was watching him, the pair of azure blue eyes filled with boredom and the was something that Rogue could fully understand. He knew that there wasn’t a single bone in his partner’s body that wanted to be here doing paperwork, being restricted to his desk wasn’t something he enjoyed but it had to be done! He sighed in resignation as he shook his head, handing another piece of paper over to Sting as he continued to spur the blonde on.

“You know, it’s not like you have to be cooped up in here with me Rogue, go out there and get one of the many job requests that’s on the board.” Sting said as he took the singular piece of paper from his partner, laying it down on the desk in front of him before running his eyes over it thoroughly.

Rogue could help but to scoff as he looked down at Sting, his face twisting into a look of disbelief as his eye twitched and he restrained himself from hitting the blonde man for his idiotic comment. “Do you happen to remember what happened the last time I left to go on a job and you said you’d do the ‘paperwork’? I do, I came back to find that you were tucked up under your desk fast asleep, while the paperwork looming over your head had managed to triple in the time I was gone. The Lady almost killed us both for that incident alone.” Rogue muttered, an involuntary shudder passing through his body and stealing what little breath he had as he recalled the incident. “Besides, we are the Twin Dragons for a damn reason, remember?” He added as a smirked pulled at the edges of his lips and he watched Sting for his reaction.

Sting couldn’t help but to grimace as the reminder of the near-death experience had glimpses of it flashing through his mind. It had been one hell of a day, well more accurately a week after Minerva had managed to chase them both all over the Guild before subduing them and forcing them into getting the paperwork done. It had been a hellish week for them and it was something that Sting had no sudden desire to ever relive anytime soon or in the future! He frowned as he placed his pen down on the paper, signing along he designated line at the bottom as he tried to focus on the task ahead of him. Sting’s stomach churned as he ground his teeth together, a silent demand from his body to be fed.

Rogue turned his back to Sting, knowing full well that the looming threat of Lady Minerva was more than enough to settle him back into his task at hand and get the damn paperwork done. He moved about the room, picking up the next stack of papers and carried them over to the desk and placing them down where he could find the space. He sifted through the papers diligently, making sure to bring the more urgent papers to the top of the pile and get Sting signing them first. Some of the papers within the pile had already managed to obtain the signature of the blonde man, so the Shadow Dragon Slayer was simply setting those aside in their own pile to be sent off later. Rogue smiled as he handed over the first important document he came across to Sting, only to have it ripped out of his hand. He did a double take as Sting held his hand out for the next document to be handed down to him, causing Rogue to eagerly thrust the next one into his outstretched hand.

There was dead silence in the room as the same thing happened to this piece of paper and the manner others that followed it, each one being torn out of Rogue’s hand before he could even process it. Rogue stepped up his pace of handling the documents to Sting as he demanded them, their pace quickening at times and then slowing right back down to a crawl as the blonde subsided in his speed or a lengthy document appeared before him. Rogue wouldn’t lie, he was rather impressed with the speed at which his partner was managing to get the work done, probably meant that the man wanted to get out of his office or he feared facing Minerva’s wrath; Rogue was leaning towards the latter. The procedure continued for well over two hours, neither man speaking a word to one another and thus ensuring that the work was being done quickly. That is until Rogue picked up the final pile of papers and plonked them down on the edge of the desk, handing the top onto to the outstretched hand that was awaiting it.

“Wow, I’m seriously impressed by you St…” Rogue’s praise for the blonde was choked in his throat as he turned to face his partner, his crimson eyes glistening dangerously as he watched the scene unfolding before him.

Rogue’s crimson eyes zeroed in on the small corner of white material that was sticking out of the side of Sting’s mouth as he sat in his chair, nonchalantly chewing on the substance that filled his mouth. He was no stupid man; he knew precisely what that small piece of white sticking out of his partner’s mouth was and it made him angry to have fallen for the smoothness of the work flow. The silence that fell between the two Dragon Slayers in the room only lasted for a split second before being overcome by a suffocating tension. Rogue was pissed, he wanted in that moment to reach his hand out and strangle the life out of the blonde but he knew it would be pointless. Come time for Lady Minerva to come check on the work load, they would both be dying at her hands and that was something that only served to stoke the flames of anger within Rogue.

“R-Rogue…?” Sting’s voice wavered in fear as he mumbled around the paper that he had stuffed into his mouth, his eyes trained on his partner’s trembling form. He understood Rogue wasn’t trembling out of fear, this was something he knew well and this trembling meant that Rogue was seething in silence, just waiting to burst!

There was a sense of death that washed over Sting, the dense feeling radiating off the Shadow Dragon Slayer standing next to his desk and if looks could kill then Sting was certain he would already be dead. His face drained of all colour as he instantly sucked the last bit of paper into his mouth and chewed on it cautiously before gulping it down. Sting bolted up out of his seat, moving his body just in time to avoid being hit by the shadowy mass that his partner’s fist had become. It wasn’t often that Rogue struck out towards Sting, especially not while using his Dragon Slayer magic; it was something he thought irrational.

“STING! TELL ME YOU DIDN’T JUST EAT ALL OF THE PAPERWORK WE WERE DOING!” Rogue oared in anger as he turned his head to glare over at the blonde, his pupils thinned into slits as he ground his teeth together.

Anger flared in Rogue’s eyes as Sting’s lips twitched before his stupid and aloof grin spread across his face, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he grinned back at him. He knew for a fact that the paper Sting had just been chewing on and quickly swallowed was the very same one he had handed him just moments beforehand. He couldn’t believe that this moron in front of him had thought it perfectly fine to eat the important paperwork he had been doing, making it impossible for them to send it where it needed to go. A dreaded feeling washed over Rogue as he spun around, taking a thorough look around the room in order to assess the damage inflicted by his partner. Almost all the paperwork in the room was gone, Rogue was willing to bet that it had all been inhaled by the blonde and was now residing in the stomach of the White Dragon Slayer of whom his growing fury was directed at.

“Aw come on partner, you know what I get like. When I’m hungry and my body starts complaining, I just have to eat!” Sting whispered as he stepped towards Rogue tentatively, cautious of how the man in front of him would react to his comment. “There’s just one thing that I can’t figure out though…” Sting continued as he frowned and scratched at his cheek in a manner of showing that he was thinking to his partner.

“Would it have anything to do with how you are going to come up with a way to replace all the documents that you just shamelessly guzzled down? Did you seriously not think about the consequences this was going to have on the both of us before you opened that cyclone inducing mouth of yours? You, idiot of a blonde bombshell!” Rogue growled in frustration as he stood to his full height and looked over at his partner, his eye twitching from the built-up anger.

Sting’s eyes widened as he looked back to Rogue, chuckling as he shook his head and his grin spread further over his face. “No way, who cares about any of that anyway… No, I was really just trying to figure out why in hell it has taken me so long to realise that all the paperwork I’ve been avoiding all this time was actually edible!” Sting concluded cheerfully as he clicked his fingers as if he’d just discovered the best thing ever and pointed towards Rogue in his excitement.

Rogue’s face dropped as he stared at the man in front of him, his anger simmering as he tried to find a way to make the man see just how stupid his actions really were. As much as he loved the imbecile that stood in front of him, there were times much like this one where all he wanted to do was reach out and do nothing more than choke the life out of him! Of all the things his moronic partner was worried about, he chose to worry over the length of time it had taken him to realise his work was edible. Rogue was beside himself; he knew that Sting could be dense but he had never thought he could be this dense when it came to his life being on the line.

Rogue growled as his anger reached its boiling point, launching himself at Sting and tackling him over the desk. “YOU MORON! Of all the irresponsible things… you, out of all this, you’re only concerned about the fact that it took you this long to find out that paper was food? Sting, you have eaten all the documents that were from the Magic Council and therefor had to go back to them!” Rogue stressed as he pinned the blonde down beneath him, glaring down into his eyes as he ground his teeth.

Sting smirked a she looked up into Rogue’s crimson eyes, a sudden and undeniable desire washed over him as he gazed into the fiery orbs above. “Who cares?! It was the best friggen meal that I have had in a long time!” He chuckled mischievously before leaning up, kissing Rogue firmly on his lips and smirking as he pulled his head back only for Rogue to chase after his lips momentarily.

Rogue’s eyes narrowed dangerously, aware of the fact he had just chased after Sting’s lips subconsciously. He growled as he lowered his head down towards the blonde, his eyes locked with his as his hands tightened around his wrists securely. “I guess I’ll just have to punish you then for having down the stupidest thing in this world!” He teased as he moved his leg between Sting’s pressing his knee up against him as he bared his fangs at the moron.

“Rogue, baby… you know it’s not punishment if I end up enjoying whatever it is that you end up doing to me.” Sting said triumphantly before moving his body, reversing their positions as he rolled with sting, pinning him on his back securely. He smirked in triumph as he pressed their hips together, rolling his lazily against his partner’s and creating friction between their dicks.

Rogue blinked in surprise as his body stiffened beneath his partner’s, a low groan rumbling in his throat as his hips involuntarily rolled up to meet his. His eyes locked with the azure ones above him and a shudder travelling down his spine as his dick stirred to life. His breath hitched as the insides of his Kimono were breached by Sting’s wondering hands, travelling down over his chest and finding their way to his stomach. Rogue let out a low moan as Sting laced his fingers into his happy trail and pulled on the delicate hairs partly, lowering his head down to nip at his sensitive ears.

“S-Sting… I said I w-would be the one to punish you.” Rogue stammered as he moved his hands up into the blonde’s hair, cording his hands through the messy blonde locks. He bit his lip as he tangled his fingers deep into Sting’s hair and pulled on it roughly, his Kimono being pulled down off his shoulder and exposing much of his chest. The cool in the office quickly becoming an annoyance for Rogue as it contacted his much warmer skin, sending violent shivers through his body as it tried to maintain its temperature. He moaned low as Sting bit down along his neck, pulling his Kimono further down his body and almost revealing his hips as Sting uncovered his happy trail.

Sting smirked as he felt the shivers run through Rogue’s trembling body, finding satisfaction in knowing that he was anticipating what he knew was inevitably coming his way. He moved his head down further, biting along his neck and leaving marks as he made his way down to Rogue’s chest. Sting took pleasure in leaving behind marks on his partner, making sure to cover as much skin as he possibly could in his teeth marks and let the world know that Rogue was taken! He ghosted his lips over the expanse of Rogue’s abdominal muscles, biting into the flesh a couple of times before moving his attention to the man’s nipples. Rogue’s chest hitched under Sting’s lips as he sucked in a quick breath, his eyes widening as one of his nipples was sucked into the warmth of the blonde’s mouth. Rogue moaning low beneath the blonde as he sealed his lips around the delicate bud and rolled it between his teeth, rubbing his tongue against it roughly as he smirked in satisfaction.

Rogue whined softly as he arched his back off the ground, an involuntary moan slipping past his lips and encouraging the blonde to keep at his act of violating his sensitive nipple. Rouge bit down on his bottom lip as his eyes slid shut, trying to focus on keeping himself from making any more noises that may entice the man to go further than what he had already dared. Rogue gasped, his eyes flying open as Sting rocked his hips down, one of his hands slipping down between their bodies and palming his dick firmly, causing Rogue to buck his hips up into his hand. He moved his legs on instinct, wrapping them around the slim yet well-defined hips of the man looming over him and secured them there by locking his ankles together.

“STING…” Both men froze in their places as the door to the office was thrown open and an all too familiar figured loomed in the door way. The tone threatening as it reached their ears and the glare that accompanied it was nothing short of a personification of death!

Sting lifted his head from Rogue’s nipple, releasing the tender bud with a loud pop and meeting the narrowed eyes of Minerva as she stood glaring in at the blonde man. He smiled tentatively as Rogue moved about uncomfortably beneath him and removed his legs from where he had just wrapped them securely around his waist. He flicked his eyes down to peek at Rogue, smirking as he saw that his cheeks were ablaze and that he had became extremely frazzled. Sting was aware that Rogue was a very private person and didn’t like making public displays of affection, no matter who they were around.

“My Lady… what a surprise…” Sting whispered as he shifted his eyes back to Minerva and smiled over at her tentatively, his voice cheery as he tried to make light of the current situation.

“The hell Sting?” Minerva growled as she stomped into the room, promptly making her way over to the two men and grabbing a hold of Sting’s ear roughly. “Where the hell is all the paperwork that was in here this morning? There is no way in hell that you could have already finished all of it, much less sent it off already. And more importantly, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO ROGUE?!” She screamed as she looked down at the bewildered man beneath the blonde, pulling on Sting’s ear harder as she tried to get him to his feet.

Rogue took his chance as Minerva pulled Sting to his feet, slipping out from under the man and moving away from the two that could explode at any moment. His cheeks felt as though they were on fire as he pulled one side of his Kimono back onto his body properly, covering up his happy trail and attempting to gain himself some semblance of decency. Rogue turned his attention over to the pair that had locked eyes in the middle of the room, knowing full well that they could break into a fight at any given time. He took a steady breath as he pulled the other side of his Kimono back on his body and fixed his gaze on Sting, narrowing his eyes at the moronic blonde.

“He ate the paperwork that you wanted us to do, all of it within the last 2 hours…” Rogue grumbled, disgruntled by the fact that Sting had done such a stupid thing and that they had just been busted by Minerva.

The silence that was in the room could have suffocated the average person, the stillness of the air was uncomfortable and it was making Rogue regret saying anything. The silence was shattered as a loud crash resounded around the room and the once beautiful desk was shattered into pieces, Sting’s body slamming into the wooden fixture. Minerva seethed with anger, heaving as she lifted her head to glare over at Sting, her rage radiating off her like heat.

“YOU…You ATE the paperwork! ALL OF IT!” She screamed as she moved after their supposed Guild Master.

Rogue stood back as he watched the two of them exchange heated words with one another before Sting took it upon himself to flee from the office. He stood there alone in the office for a moment, his hand hovering over his chest as his heart raced and felt as though it would shatter through his rib cage at any moment. Rogue gathered himself together slowly and moved to walk out of the office in time to smack straight into Sting’s body. He blinked as he lifted his head to look into the other man’s eyes, instantly regretting his decision as the blonde’s lips crashed against his own.

Sting smirked as he pulled his head back and looked into the crimson eyes before him. “Just in case… you never know what she’s going to do to me, but just in case I don’t survive; know I love you baby!” Sting said calmly before taking off again, running away just as Minerva made her way towards them.

Rogue stood there stunned as he stared off at nothing, he could hardly believe what Sting had just done to him. He hated displays of public affection and he knew his boyfriend was aware of that, yet he had just kissed him in front of the whole guild. Rogue’s face was flushed crimson as he stood there frozen, his mind racing amidst the thunderous cheers of his Guild-mates. The crowd fell silent as the sound of a petrified and shrill scream reached their ears from in the direction of the front of the Guild, indicating that Minerva had won her fight. Good, Rogue wanted to have words with his supposed Master and those words might include him pounding some sense into the incredibly thick blonde!

#sting eucliffe #eucliffe sting #rogue cheney #cheney rogue #sting x rogue #eucliffe x cheney #rogue x sting #cheney x eucliffe #stingue #scenario #fairy tail #ft #ft imagines #fairy tail imagines #lime #death by minerva #dom!sting #lesbian peanut writer

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jlpat82 · 6 years

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Not Our Home

Chapter 9

It had been along time since he was down here, Preacher thought, the underground halls hadn't changed. He lead the group through the maze of corridors, twists and turns in the absolute darkness. He was in front, followed by Sasha, Julianne, and Reaper bring up the rear. Each held onto the shirt of the one leading, so not to get lost.

"We need a place to stop, and devise a plan," Reapers voice just above a whisper. "To figure away out of this city."

"I know the perfect place." I responded.

"First, we need to stop by and get a few things." Preacher added. His voice calm, as we rounded another corner.

"How do you know where we are going?" Sasha whispered.

"I snuck in when the bombs starting dropping, before the seals were put into place. At first I stayed down here, to avoid being seen. This was long before the criminals took over the place."

"Why did you come here to begin with?" I asked.

"Once I realized that someone had went through and murdered the scientist on our team I knew it wouldn't be long before they came after us. It took me a while to figure out it was Riptide that betrayed us. He was the one that let the activated nukes slip past." He paused for a moment and then took another turn. "I knew that if he saw me, he would kill me. So I snuck in and went straight to darkest most unlivable place I could."

"Basement level." Sasha stated.

"Exactly, I stayed here for a long while. Roaming these catacombs, I had free roam. Once every month guards would sweep through, they didn't know the darkness like I did. I smashed every light I passed, I wanted the darkness."

"Why?" She asked.

"Being genetically modified the complete darkness is nothing for me. I can see just as well as you can in the day, the people that came down here had limited visibility. I could out run them, cause I could see them coming. The only down side, it makes daylight a bitch to handle."

"When did you go top side?"

"Couple decades back, I stayed low and kept to myself. Found out Riptide didn't hand pick the military, if that's what you call those idiots, anymore and joined. Did a lot I ain't proud of." You could hear the agitation in his voice. "We're here."

I could hear some metal on metal scrapping, Preacher let a sound of a mixture of a groan and a huff. Low light spilled into the hall as he pushed the heavy metal door open.

We stepped into the room, it was smallish. One single light bulb mounted in the far corner was the only source of light. Items I had only seen in videos hung from hooks on the wall. Old camouflage army fatigues adorned with a heavy bulky vest, no doubt reinforced Kevlar. Dusty black boots sat neatly squared under each set, large rifles artfully hung on the walls. These were items from another era. An era tense by war and bloodshed, supposedly a thing of the past.

"I believe these belong to you, Sir." Preacher handed Reaper a set, a name emblazoned across the right breast of the jacket. Harper, in bold stitching. A smile played across his face as he took them, he pulled them close.

"How I've missed you." Reaper spoke softly, pulling his shirt off. Scars lined his bare chest, I turned quickly looking at my sister. Preacher was in the middle of disrobing, changing into his uniform.

"Sasha, you can wear these." Preacher handed her a set, she gladly took them. She stripped quickly out of her slime and maggot covered clothes. They dropped with a wet thud.

"Julianne," Reaper pulled me aside, he handed me a set of fatigues. "These were your grandmother's, you should wear them."

"Why?" I cautiously took them from him, his face relaxed a bit. The kindness had returned to his eyes, something I hadn't seen since that night in my house.

"You are a lot like her." He replied as Preacher walked up to us, handing Reaper a rifle. He turned to me and pushed one in my hands on top of clothes. Bewildered, I turned my attention to him.

"Trust me, we'll need them." He stated, turning he walked back to the wall of weapons.

"News flash Rambo, we normal people don't know how to use these!"

"Easy to figure out, you hold gun, point it thing want to permanently stop and pull the trigger." He replied not looking back.

"You should get dressed." Reaper added and followed his comrade.

I stripped quickly, and put the uniform on. It was heavy and bulkier then it looked while hanging. It felt odd to put on clothes of someone who had been deceased for as long as she had been. Her being my grandmother just made it very weird. Hopefully history would not repeat.

—-

"What do you mean you lost them!" Riptide yelled inches from the guards ruddy face.

"It was guard 116, he turned on me." The poor man croaked out, his eyes averted from Riptide. His left eye was swollen shut, dried blood crusted around his broken nose.

"How?! You were supposed to be one of the best! You passed everything with honors you stupid moron!" Riptide's whole head was a bright red, a vein bulged from his temple throbbing with every word. He absent mindedly rub the back of his head. He could feel the headache starting to come on, he was beginning to wonder if he was surrounded by idiots.

Riptide stepped over to the computer, quickly typed in 116. The computer brought up the file, there was a face he hadn't seen in a hundred years. Riptide felt the blood wash from his face, as a cold chill raked through his body.

The ghost from his past popped up on screen. Preacher had just barely slipped in the force, nothing worth while on his record. Just average, the kid knew how to cheat the system. No honors, no disciplinary actions, because of this he was able to slip under his radar.

"How long has he been on the patrol unit for the prisons?" He barked, panic raised his voice a notch as his hands started to tremble. This could be detrimental, dealing with Reaper was going to be a challenge but adding Preacher to the problem aggravated the situation. Preacher was Reaper's second in command, his go to buddy. Not only did this mean it was a two on one but Reaper would now know the lay out of entire complex.

"This was his second patrol shift." He slowly brought his eyes up, looking at his commanding officer. His brow knotted together, he saw fear in the man's eyes.

"Damn it!"

"Sir, if you don't mind me asking why is that so damning?"

"Because he only needs a day to completely memorize the entire lay out of structure. It was his unique specialty."

"Sir, the guy barely qualified on his exams, I don't see how that is possible."

"He is not as stupid as you are! That's why, his brain works at a faster and higher setting then your peanut size brain does."

"Uh, I don't think I'm following you."

"He's like me." Riptide pull his handgun out, he pointed to his own head with it. "My brain is much bigger then yours, hence why I'm in control and you are not. We, him and I, were created to be better then people like you."

"What do you mean, created?" Riptide brought the gun down leveling it to the ruddy faced guards head. He pulled the trigger, blowing chucks out of his head.

"You wouldn't understand, and now I wasted a perfectly good bullet."

—-

Reaper was in deep conversation with Preacher, he looked over briefly and pointed to the black boots. I slowly sat down, pulling a pair of socks that had been rolled up in one of the boots. I shook the dust off of them pulling them on, watching them conspire. I grabbed one of the heavy boots, I dusted it off and saw a full shine. I shoved my foot into it as Sasha came over, she sat next to me and she started doing the same.

"Wonder what their plan is." She stated, watching the two, as she laced the boots tightly.

"Escape, fight back, who knows." I sighed, I turned my head to look at my sister. Red slime still clung in her hair, blood streaked across her ivory cheek. Even in the low lighting I could see the dust that streaked her face. I never asked her to be apart of any of this, and she was in no way obligated to stay. She continued to prove me wrong.

It seemed like our old lives were hidden far deep in the past, so much had changed in a week. The world her and I grew up in had changed violently, but it hadn't changed at all. It was the same, we had just woken from the dream into a nightmare fueled by hate and bloodlust, that was our reality. The facade had been pulled back, leaving devastating results in its wake.

Genetically modified people were a reality, they stood before us, the last of a forgotten era. Living relics, trained to fight, trained to kill. They had once lived by code to protect, and that's what they were planning on doing. While one attempted to keep us at bay, by all cost.

The world outside our revered reinforced cinder walls were far from the utopia most had aspired for it to one day be. It in its self, the world as a whole, was livable, filled with horrifying wonders yet to be seen. Twisted and knarled oddies waiting to be to be gazed upon. Lands to be explored and documented, fresh air to breathed. A life I had always wanted to see.

Within these walls is the real horror show we had seen. We had been kept in check by powers beyond our control. Cruel and evil men who held our daily lives captive, not only to keep the status quo in check but actively kept our numbers in check. We had been fed the flesh of our peers none the wiser, arguing over flavors that we had never really tasted. Going to and from meaningless jobs, to appease the elite. We were nothing more then clogs on a wheel.

She had seen these horrors first hand, and yet here she was, sitting next to me. Willing to fight till the end of line, a strength I had never known radiated from somewhere deep with in Sasha. She didn't give up when they took me, with the intent of killing me, even with odds stacked against her. It was her loyalty that brought her the courage she needed to keep going. Then again I could hallucinating all of that, and in reality all she just wanted to do was go home and take a hot shower.

"You said you know a place?" Preacher asked walking towards us. "They'll starting sweeping soon, trust me we don't want a fire fight down here."

"Yeah, can you get us to housing complex A?" I responded taking Reaper's hand as he helped me off the ground, pulling me a bit to close to him. I felt like a tiny awkward creature being that close, I could feel the heat spread through my cheeks. His golden eyes locked onto mine.

"Can I get you to housing complex A?" Preacher chuckled mocking me, as he grabbed a couple more handguns, strapping them to his thighs. He tossed a couple to Reaper who caught them one handed without breaking eye contact with me. "Oh child, if you only knew where I've been."

"Preacher, lead the way." Reaper stated, slowly turning from me. My heart in my throat, I let out a deep breath I hadn't realized I was holding. Why did he do that to me.

—-

"Gentlemen, we've had a breach." Riptide shouted, pacing before the hundred men. "First we have a man who has come in from the outside. A contaminant has breached our walls as is a potential threat to our hollowed society, he is to be considered highly dangerous. He will also be armed to the teeth, this man is not to be under estimated. Do not hesitate, take him down, I assure you he will not hesitate to put a bullet through your skull. The second problem we have had one of our own has turned on us."

All eyes, focused on him. He had re-composed himself since his slip, a momentary weakness. He could feel his power begin to course back through him, he was back in control. These idiots were eating up what he had to say, not questioning his orders. Things back to the way it should be and soon back normal all the way around.

"He is also to be considered highly dangerous, he will also be armed. Though 116 seemed to be average don't let that fool you. The man is a highly trained killer. He is ruthless, shoot at first chance. Both these men must be taken with a head shot, if you miss and shoot another body part they will still continue to fight. Be alert to your surroundings, these two have skills you could only dream of." He paused waiting for his instructions to sink in. He had to remind himself that he was dealing with simpletons. After this was all said and done, these men would be purged and the records wiped. Like nothing ever happened. "As for the woman, I want her taken alive."

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fuck-customers · 6 years

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A two-day ordeal with a customer wherein the police were called no less than twice

This was several months ago and while it's a wild story, I'm sorry for being fuzzy on the details. It's gonna be long. For some context: I work at a burger place in the south that sells peanuts that you can just throw on the floor. The shift manager (M) that day had just finished his training and was running his first shift by himself with assistance from an experienced shift leader (C) but otherwise it's just me and a couple of other people. The customer I'm talking about looked in her mid 30's and had a few kids, and came in with them and her husband during our lunch rush at around noon. Nothing really major happened while she was eating, except that she was the type to stand at the counter and just stare at us while we made her food, but that happens with open kitchens and it wasn't too much of a bother. She gets her food, eats, goes home, yada yada. Later, she comes back alone at around 2 o'clock after we've started to slow down for the afternoon and insists that one of her kids, a nine year-old, told her that there was blood on his food. She apparently told him to throw it away, and then went home, called the local hospital, and claimed that they told her that we had to let her go through our trash to find this kid's thrown away burger and take it to get tested or she needed to call the police and take legal action. She also demands to look at all of our hands to see if any of us are cut. We're not busy and M really doesn't want to deal with it longer than he has to and complies, so he lets C go through the trash with her (that she was very lucky we hadn't taken out yet) and finds the burger, which is NO sign of blood on it whatsoever. She looks at our hands after this, and thus arises an issue: one of my coworkers (R) who had been working while she was there had already gone home and was too far away to turn around and come back in a timely manner because he lives an hour and a half out. We tell her this and she throws a damn tantrum, yelling at us over the counter about how her husband works with the government and she knows how this all works and how we're playing with her kid's life even though we've already given her the damn burger back. So we call R, who can't come back but pulls over on the interstate to take pictures of his hands and send them to C to show to her, and she isn't satisfied. She starts offering money, threatening us with the police, blah blah blah. All that fun stuff. When it becomes clear that we can't make R come back so she can look at his hands in person, she calls the police. Now, I'm on the register this shift, so I get to watch this customer talk to the officer outside as I continue to take orders as normal and M is fuming because this is his first shift as official management and he's done as hell. After awhile the officer comes in and looks at me like this is taking years off his life, tells me that this is ridiculous, and then asks for my manager. They talk for a little while and the agreement they come to is that the woman can come back an hour and a half after we've opened the next day to see R and have it be done with. She doesn't show until the afternoon and seeing as it was a slow day and R was having issues with his blood pressure, we figured she wasn't going to show and sent him home to rest. M & C are both still on this shift and so am I. Now, when she learns we did this, she throws another tantrum and calls us suspicious on top of everything she yelled and had a tantrum about before, only this time when we called R he made the effort to come back and let her look at his hands. There wasn't anything wrong on them, no fresh cuts or anything, so she just looks like this huge melodramatic idiot in front of us and the rest of the customers in the building, but she doesn't just stop and go home! Oh no! She then proceeds to ignore M asking her to leave in favor of sobbing to other customers. Like actually sobbing, talking about how we're playing games with her child's life and how we aren't a safe place to eat and generally making everyone uncomfortable. This goes on for maybe half an hour before M gets fed up and calls the police to make her leave, since she won't listen to us when we tell her. Tl;dr: a kid who's too young to know his ass from a hole in the ground says he has blood in his food and it turns into a 2-day nightmare with his mom.

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nadiarizavi · 6 years

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BETCHA DIDN’T SEE THIS COMING,,,,,,

people were asking for a part 2 of the fro-yo date so..... yes....... it was really nice to revisit this fic!!! please look forward to part three qq

here’s part one!

Class ended two hours ago.

At least, if Lance was keeping his time right. And he was pretty sure he was.

Pidge was burning daylight, forcing him to wait for her.

He thought it would be a little creepy, to try and hang out in front of her dorm room and surprise her when she finally stepped out in her daytime glory. Did Pidge have a daytime glory? Was he imagining some sort of fantasy girl that didn’t really exist? How was Pidge’s daily routine? Clearly it was pretty messed up if she spent a couple of nights every week doing homework before the asscrack of dawn, right?

The anxiety was starting to get to him. He drummed his leg a little bit faster.

She wouldn’t have cancelled on him, right? Maybe he was wrong about when her classes ended. But she told him her schedule! He was pretty great at remembering things, but Pidge usually wasn’t, so maybe she did forget? Should he text her? Would it be annoying to text her?

Why was he so damn nervous?

Focus on something else.

His eyes drifted around the common room. It wasn’t particularly big, no, but it was comfortable. A small kitchen, a couple of couches and chairs and a television to sit and watch. A couple of guys had turned on Indiana Jones but were barely paying attention. Another girl was making herself a sandwich. He could hear a conversation down the hall, as more people approached the commons.

His heart began to hammer a little harder in his chest.

It wasn’t a date. Maybe. Pidge just called it a date by accident. Lance certainly didn’t want to think it was a date. After all, it was just Pidge and frozen yogurt. Just him and his weird night owl friend and a couple of bowls of delicious fro-yo.

Then he saw her.

It was a little disorienting, to say the least. He didn’t recognize her for a moment. Usually, he couldn’t make out Pidge’s features, because the commons at night were dark and she refused to turn on the light because “McClain, that wastes energy and we are not about to become earth murderers,” or something. He stood up quickly, smoothing out the wrinkles in his jacket, running a quick hand through his hair as Pidge got closer.

For someone he thought of as a friend, it was like meeting her for the first time.

She has freckles.

That was the first coherent thought Lance had.

“Hello McClain,” Pidge chirped, raising a hand in greeting. Green sweater, dark blue overalls. Beat up sneakers. Not what he expected. Or everything he expected?

A smattering of freckles.

Remember to speak, idiot.

“Uh. Hello! Yo. Hi, Pidge.”

Smooth like butter.

Pidge switched the weight of her footing, head cocking as she stared up at him. Her hair was tawny. Her eyes were honey.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

Lance blinked.

“The hell do you mean?”

She splayed her arms, doing a dramatically slow spin. “I’m here. During the day. The forbidden hours.”

He barked out a laugh. “I didn’t expect you to look so…”

He paused, biting his tongue. What was he going to say? Normal? Stylish? Pretty?

“What?”

“Well rested.”

There we go, settle with the joke. Pidge liked jokes.

“I didn’t expect you to look like a jackass.”

“Ah, that’s the Pidge I know and adore. Shall we?”

He offered his arm. She ignored him and pressed onwards.

“We shall.”

And it wasn’t a quiet journey. Lance would’ve preferred him and Pidge not having anything to talk about, in hindsight. He would’ve preferred a quiet, seemingly awkward walk to the bus stop without anything to talk to her about.

But Pidge was a secret powerhouse.

It threw him off, again. Lance hadn’t seen this side of Pidge before, ever. She was always… awkwardly chatty, to put it mildly. But here, beneath a bright blue sky and a shining sun, Pidge had an almost impenetrable air of absolute cool radiating off of her. She had a way of somehow knowing almost every person the pair passed by. A greeting there, a short breeze of a question that she seemed to know all the answers to, whether it was about a class meeting, a due date, a general “how’s your day going?”

“You’re… pretty popular,” Lance said casually, as she waved goodbye to a leaving pair of girls who had stopped her to ask about their next robotics meeting. Robotics. He didn’t know she was in the robotics club.

“I do a lot of extracurriculars,” Pidge said, unphased by the inquiry. “It keeps me busy between classes.”

“Jesus, and you still can’t find the time to get a good night of sleep?”

She laughed at him, throwing her head back as she did. “You know, I thought the same thing! One of these days I’ll finally have enough on my plate to knock my ass out at the sound, reasonable hour of… midnight.”

Lance instinctively elbowed her shoulder.

“Maybe push for two in the morning, first.”

“Har-har.”

He wasn’t sure when it happened during their stroll, but he was hyper-aware of it now. The weight of Pidge’s hand in his. It must’ve come naturally to him, or to her, or to both of them, because it wasn’t until they were at the bus stop did he realize she was swinging his arm with hers. Gently, almost unnoticeable, if Lance didn’t realize it was happening.

He gave her hand a squeeze, to test her, to see if Pidge also realized that at some indistinguishable walk from point A to B, their hands had intertwined.

She squeezed back.

And then the bus rolled up.

It was crowded, much to Lance’s expectation, and he wondered, quietly, if Pidge was alright with that. He looked back towards her as she filed in line behind him, and fortunately caught her eye. A smile.

“What?”

“Is… uh…” Lance looked around. “The crowding okay for you?”

“I’m not claustrophobic if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh. Cool, cool.”

There was a long pause, as Lance vice gripped the handgrip above him and the bus began to move. Pidge took hold of his other hand, not too tightly, the rest of her body leaning into the pole next to her.

“You’re claustrophobic?” came her voice. Lance let out a strained laugh.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not,” Pidge said, and she returned to swinging his hand in hers. “I would never.”

The words were reassuring in a way Lance didn’t expect them to be. She gave him a sincere smile, and despite the lack of movement available, got as far away from him as she could. But she never did let go of his hand. Not until their stop came up in the city, and she had to let him go to ring the bell to be let off the bus.

It was a nice day for frozen yogurt, Lance decided.

It was a brisk walk to find the fated frozen yogurt place, because if Lance was honest, it wasn’t hard to find. A soft pink exterior, blue and white striped umbrellas, a neon sign that flashed the word “OPEN” like a lighthouse beckoning ships home. Pidge beat him to the door, swinging it open and bowing to him as he came up, as if she was a professional in opening doors for people.

“My good sir,” Pidge said, her voice dripping in a mocking posh accent. Lance let out a hard laugh, poking her in the shoulder as he stepped through the threshold.

“You’re so dumb.”

“Hey! That makes two of us. Twice the dumbasses.”

They fed into the line, which was about three other people in front of them, eyes reading over the different slowly-spinning machines filled with about twenty different frozen yogurt flavors.

“Are you a fruit or chocolate person?” Pidge asked, hands aimlessly twisting and turning her empty fro-yo container.

“I usually go for fruit flavors. Why?”

“Interesting. I like chocolate.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

“With like, peanut butter cups.”

“Again, not shocking.”

“And sour patch kids.”

Lance blinked, giving Pidge a double-take. For a brief, bliss moment, he had fallen for it.

That is, until he saw the shit-eating grin she was giving him.

“I dare you to do that.”

“What? No! That totally messes up my carefully curated flavor profile, McClain!”

Lance shrugged, trying to keep his smile on lockdown, not when this was the perfect opportunity to act nonchalant. “Maybe you shouldn’t have suggested it.”

“God, if you’re daring me to do that, then…” She spends a long time thinking. Almost too long. “All the toppings.”

“That renders it inedible!”

“If you do it, I’ll do it. Then we’ll both have inedible frozen yogurt.”

“That completely misses the point of getting frozen yogurt.”

She grinned. “Then I guess we’d have to make it up by going out again, right?”

And despite himself, Lance’s heart stammered to a stop.

Going out.

Again?

With him?

Pidge crouched, maneuvering around Lance, talking as she makes her way to her preferred brownie fudge flavor. “So, are we doing this or not?”

“Uh,” Lance began, standing up straighter, aware of the heat that went from the tips of his ears to his toes. “Doing what?”

“All the toppings. Duh.”

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, definitely.”

He trailed behind her, almost aimless, and Lance’s mind went a mile a minute. He couldn’t have a crush on her, right? She was just his weird gremlin night-owl friend. She was his weirdly comforting rock in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep and it was nice to walk into the commons and just find her existing in that space. She was some turd who listened to him vent and gave weird advice and always had something to say that made him laugh. She was just Pidge, after all.

Maybe that’s what he liked about her, that she was just Pidge.

She had a look of triumph on her face when they reached the end of the toppings line, while the employee gave them both a confused, tired look. They paid a lot more than just his savings from the failed blind date. Not that either seemed to mind.

“This is disgusting,” Lance said, once they decided to settle in one of the outdoor sitting areas. Pidge let out a laugh, lifting up a spoonful of toppings with hardly any yogurt.

“Just close your eyes and pretend you’re not eating a horrifying amalgamation of sugary, fruity, savory, chocolatey--”

“I got the gist of it. Please stop.”

She let out another laugh, digging her spoon into the horror, mixing as carefully as she could. “So what’s the plan after we eat as much of this monster yogurt as we can?”

Lance blinked, weighing a spoonful of Oreo cookie bits and gummy bears. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she leaned in, spearing her yogurt with the spoon. “Do you want to keep hanging out, Lance?”

“Well, obviously. We’re friends,” he stressed the last word, hoping to convince himself. “It’d be dumb if I wanted to stop hanging out with you.”

She studied him for a moment, head bobbing up and down in slow motions. “Okay. Yeah, you’re right. It’d be dumb if we stopped hanging out with each other.”

She dug back into her yogurt, eating a bit faster, and Lance cocked his head to the side.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

A stop. A crunch of a bad combination of toppings.

“I like hanging out with you,” Pidge said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “But this was weird, right? Hanging out like… like normal people.”

Her voice dropped as she said it, a teasing grin on her lips. Lance snorted.

“It’s only weird if you make it weird, you know.”

“I know! But it’s like,” she waved her spoon at him. “We’re totally different people out here. No one understands our dynamic. It’s so exposing.”

Lance let out a laugh, almost shy. “Who cares, dude? I like you. Not what people think of you.”

She froze in her stance, spoon dripping chocolate frozen yogurt onto the table, and Lance moved quick to clean it up with a napkin. Slowly, Pidge dropped her spoon back into her bowl, gaze unwavering from Lance. He looked back, beaming.

“What’s up now, Pidge?”

“Sorry. That was just a really nice thing to say. I like you too, Lance.”

There was warmth in her tone, warmth that was almost too easy for Lance to read as anything other than platonic. It made his heart stammer. It made his knees weak. But he wasn’t going to let that show.

Quickly, he jabbed his own spoon towards her nose, letting out a shit-eating laugh.

“You called me Lance again!”

#plance #pidgance #flirtyrobot #amaje fics

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tatooedlaura-blog · 7 years

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The Madness of Punch

the series read as follows:

Superman … Monday … Cheezy Pouffs … Bacon … Stumbling … Trail Mix … Punch … Friday … Preparation … Uncle Mudler … Normal … Backseat … Mudler-sense … The FBI … Unthinkable … Patience … Elephant Jokes … Cooking … Rickety Tables … Mr. Skimmer … Bert and Ernie … Midnight Confessions … The Moon … Bright Sunshine … Graying Skies … Darkened Night … Possibilities … A Thing with You … Humming and Thrumming ... Warped Cosmology

@today-in-fic

____________

MRI taken, fish fed, email answered, thumbs twiddled, Mulder phoned, brain picked by aforementioned phone call, groceries shopped for and mother retrieved, they headed to the appointment.

An hour later, they settled in the car, quiet for a moment before Maggie spoke ...

amusement lacing every word that followed, “so, basically, you have polyps in your sinuses and vigorous sex will break the blood vessels in your nasal cavity?”

This was possibly worse than when she innocently asked her mother, after hearing Bill talking to one of his friends, what 69’ing was, “I should have left you in the car.”

“Oh, no, dear. Then I would have nothing to share at the card party Thursday.”

“Don’t make me make you walk home.”

Maggie moved her hand to Scully’s arm, squeezing it tightly, “honey, believe me when I say I am overjoyed to hear that the worse things you have are fatty growths and too much sex.” Moving on, she clicked her seatbelt, “now, do you think we have time for milkshakes before you need to leave for the airport?”

Key in ignition, dignity thrown out the window, Scully grinned the grin of someone with fatty growths and too much sex, “plenty of time.”

&&&&&&&&&&

Mulder collapsed into guffawing giggles that left him gasping for air, “oh … good … God … shit, I can’t breathe … I would have given almost anything to have seen that.”

She shoved his feet over to make room so she could sit on the already creaking bed, “it was an experience but who really cares as long as that’s what it is. I’ll get the polyps taken care of when we get back and we’ll just have to have less vessel-breaking sex in the future.”

This sent him right back into laughter the likes of which finally had her putting her hand over his mouth, trying to get him to shut up given it was after 11pm local time and they were going to get thrown out of the dump that was ‘MeadowLodge Suits: Drive up, sleep in, get out’ if they didn’t quiet down. Yawning while she waited for him to calm, “by the way, I like that you didn’t even attempt to get two rooms, then lie about sharing.”

“Skinner isn’t an idiot. He’ll keep it quiet though and Dennis down in billing has been asking about us for years so he’ll shut up as well. Why waste money when we don’t have to?”

“Then why didn’t we stay at a better hotel with all this money we’re going to save?”

Mulder looked around the aesthetically unappealing mustard yellow décor, “what? You don’t like this?”

Moving to pull on pajamas, “just once, you’re going to let me book the hotel.” Once dressed, Mulder watching intently the whole 30 second process, she returned to the bed, “give me the five minute rundown, please.”

&&&&&&&&&

Case done by the following Monday afternoon, Skinner shipped them to Wyoming, mosquitoes the size of Scully eating her alive while they tramped the outskirts of Yellowstone, looking for a bank robber attempting to hide in the woods. At least this time, Mulder didn’t mention a nice trip to the forest.

As an aside, they traveled over the Old Faithful and shared a pizza in view of the geyser, Mulder, for what it was worth, snapping a picture of the top of the spout so he could show people how tall it was. Scully looked at him until he cracked, “what? I want to see just how many people give me that look before they either laugh me into oblivion or gently correct me in what they hope is the nicest voice possible.”

“You’re special, Mulder, you know that?”

Ringing his arm around her neck, he smiled as he kissed her temple, “just ‘cause I’ve got you.”

&&&&&&&&&

And suddenly it was the end of July, Skinner finally letting them home after varying degrees of cases and assholes and scary type fellows. Walking into Mulder’s apartment, he dropped their bags to the ground and turned to her, “it’s Thursday, Scully.”

“It is Thursday.”

“You know what Thursday is.”

“The day after Wednesday, last I checked.”

He could give her the Look like nobody’s business and she loved it, “I need some Punch.”

Shaking her head, she moved towards the bathroom, “call Mom and see when the festivities are happening.”

And he did and it was good.

In less than an hour, after a quick shower together and some general fooling around, which they had chosen not to do while on cases, they pulled up to Maggie’s, Mulder rushing up the walk and inside, leaving Scully behind to lock the car and be amused.

She found him breathing deeply the scent of homemade cooking and motherly love, grinning like the proverbial idiot. Maggie was already walking slowly towards the pair, boots gone, braces on, crutches present. Mulder hugged her the moment he could, Scully following soon after, “how are the ankles?”

Looking at her daughter, “it feels strange and I’m nervous without the boots but the end is in sight and that’s something.”

All moving into the kitchen, the ladies greeted them as if returning from a three-month long expedition, Betty going as far as declaring how much they’ve grown since they last saw them. Scully hugged her, “Mulder needs punch.”

With a grin, “we already have two glasses ready and places for you at the table.”

Mulder studied the seating arrangement, “why are we not next to each other?”

Janet, piping in as she shuffled Roswell cards courtesy of Mulder’s kitschy souvenir binge on vacation, “because, from what I recall, the punch makes her floppy and we need someone who can handle their liquor to catch her.” Pointing the deck at him, “that, my friend, is not you.”

He really couldn’t argue.

&&&&&&&&&&

Scully was asleep on the table by 9:18pm, head resting comfortably on the wood surface, the game happening around her, Lillian tucking her hair out of the way whenever it drifted across the playing area.

Mulder, on the other hand, somehow managed to hold total punch annihilation at bay even though total inebriation still occurred, his plan of one gulp of water for every two sips of punch failing miserably. His tongue was blue as midnight, which he continually shared roughly every 5 minutes and Betty, beside him, had to keep gently nudging his cards closer to his chest so the entire table, at least, couldn’t see them. When that round had finished, she turned to him, “Fox, would you like some more pie?”

With an enthusiastic nod, he moved to get it himself but Maggie held his arm while Betty retrieved the dessert. Thanking everyone at the table for their part in pie presentation, he took his first bite, waving his fork in Maggie’s direction, “she makes the best pies.”

Maggie caught the fork before it went in her eye, returning it and the attached hand to the table, “Janet made this one.”

“Then Janet makes the best pies, too.” Another bite later, “Scully doesn’t like pie. I don’t understand. I mean, she keeps trying pies but she just doesn’t like them. I’ve tried her with apple pie and cherry pie and peach pie and pumpkin pie and chocolate pie and I mean, my God, the amount of pie I’ve wasted on that woman is astounding. Peanut butter pie and blueberry pie and every time, she just takes a bite and looks like she’s gonna die and then slides it over to me to finish.” Turning towards Maggie again with the fork, “what did you do to her as a child? Did you force feed her rhubard pie or mincemeat or something? How could you raise a kid who doesn’t like pie?” Maggie tried to answer, defend her dessert choices for the past 34 years but never got past taking in a breath before he plowed ahead, re-addressing the table, Scully’s prone head and the air in general, “I love pie. Any kind of pie. My sister Sam used to make pretend pie and she always knew I’d eat it ‘cause she called it pie. She’d serve it up in her tea set, make me sit in that damn little chair and scoop up forkfuls of fake pie. At least she’d serve fake ice tea with it so that was something. She would line up her stuffed animals and dolls and just go down the line, feeding everybody pretend pie and pretend cookies and fake cake … once she made a pretend pot roast for us but then took it away ‘cause she said she’d accidently burned it and it tasted funny.” Taking a deeper swig of his Punch, “she stopped having her tea parties about a year before she disappeared but even on that last day, that afternoon, before we had the fight about the TV and before she floated in the air, she made a real pie for me … she made it with Oreos she’d smashed up and pressed into a pie pan and put frosting on as filling. She cut it and served it and brought me a glass of ice tea and told me she’d make me real pies from now on because she was going to be a chef and learn how to make all the pies for real so she’d always have something I’d like to eat.”

The table, right down the line, Maggie, Janet, Lillian, Betty, Ellie and Ruth, all had to fight various stages of sighs and sympathy, all wanting to hug Mulder tightly, all wanting to make the life of their Fox better.

He didn’t notice any of it, fork feeding himself another mouthful, “I think she would have been a good cook. She loved reading cookbooks. She’d get up on a stool when our mother was gone and study the buttons and dials on the stove, look inside the oven, make me come explain to her how the gas to the burners worked. She is irritating as hell sometimes but for a little sister, she’s not too bad.”

No one corrected his present tense usage for his long-gone sibling but Ellie quietly scooted his cup away as he continued, “I think that when Scully and I have a kid, I’ll buy her a tea set and explain the stove to her, feed her all kinds of pretend pie and see if maybe she wants to be a chef.” Aiming for the third time at an astonished Maggie, “you’ll have to teach her how to make meatloaf and pie and lasagna but,” swinging the fork around to Betty, “you will not be teaching her how to make the Punch. You will make the Punch and I will drink the Punch but even when she gets to be 40 or 80 years old, she will never be old enough to see the Punch.”

Looking around at the women, he grinned a blue-tooth smile, “why are we not playing? Did I win?” Glancing from the fork in his hand to the near empty plate in front of him, “I like pie.”

Twenty minutes later and after another piece of pie, sans diatribe, Mulder gave into annihilation, entire body dropping slowly against Betty, his last words being, “I should get Scully home to bed.”

Betty, supporting his dead weight admirably, gestured for assistance and soon, FoxNDana were both snoring peacefully on the table. Maggie took them both in, her glance sliding between, then to her cohorts, “how should we get them somewhere to sleep for the night?”

Studying the situation, Ellie suggested they start with Mulder. It took all of them to get him up, move him, pull down the sheets on the adjacent bedroom, lay him down, set an hopefully unnecessary wastebasket by the side of the mattress, be amused by his arm searching for Scully.

Returning to the kitchen, they expected to move Scully next but instead, found her sitting up in her chair, tears evident on her cheeks, the saddest look on her face they’d ever seen. Maggie held still on her crutches, “Dana?”

Scully sniffed hard, swiping her cheeks but not answering until Maggie asked when she’d woken up, if everything was okay, to which she finally responded, “I woke up when you asked him if he wanted pie.”

The ladies had a concrete-enough, vague notion of Scully’s personal life, complete with abduction, infertility and gunshot scars to collectively and quietly gather bags and shoes, calling hushed goodbyes while Scully sat there, guilt-laden at having chased away her mother’s friends with her insanity. Once the front door shut and Maggie returned to her, Scully waited for the inevitable, ‘what’s wrong’ but instead received a gently hand to her back and a quiet, “did you know he wanted to have a daughter with you?”

#msr #samantha #the truth behind the punch #diatribes about pie #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #My writing #Life part 2 series

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savage-rhi · 7 years

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First 20 Pages of Ravage

@msaruetar

@dontunderestimatemypoison

//Tagging you guys because you showed interest. I would like some feedback if you got the time! For anyone else, this is the first section or two of my novel on Rhi and her world I’ve been working on. I’m finally getting close to getting the manuscript done then have to go through editing. If you got any tips or feedback yourself, let me know! I will appreciate constrictive feedback!

Story is below the line

RAVAGE CITY

THE POISON APPLE

9:30PM

The neon colors of Ravage City illuminated the fixers red green eyes. Wild abandon had hit the citizens as nightfall sparked to life. It was time to party. A time to give into primal desires. Fucking, drinking, dancing, all of it could be done with no qualms. For Rhi, this was a time to hunt, and she had her gaze on a target.

Rhi found the hotshot heading towards The Poison Apple--a stripper and sex joint that catered to high fantasy with gene junkies. Rhi snorted with a low growl when her target disappeared into the confines of the red light establishment. There was no way in hell she was going to waste her time going in there to look for her mark. Not with the headache that was pounding the side of her head like a drummer banging with wild abandon

A migraine didn’t compare to the pressure splitting numbness that built up in her nasal cavity and frontal lobe. She felt like her face had been socked in by a pro wrestler thirty times over. At this point, Rhi wished some idiot would come up and do just that, deck her hard so she wouldn’t have to deal with the irritation of her nose being set on fire from the putrid musks that filled the crisp night air. Her olfactory zone was overstimulated from the scents of humans around her. Tar and bile, candy and oil, artificial strawberry and lemon zest all permeated from the the sweat of people that passed her by. Like a trained bloodhound, Rhi could pinpoint anyone as long as she had their smell. In a large group however, she tended to get overwhelmed. That’s precisely why she didn’t find her target Flint Jasper until now, the bastard caught onto that weakness of hers earlier in the week as she spied on him.

While waiting for Flint to come out, Rhi mentally went through her assignment. First Casey Moniker, a crime boss, had contracted her to go after Flint on suspicion of embezzlement. Second, she needed capture the thief and bring him to Casey. Third, if Flint tried anything Rhi was allowed to take matters into her own hands. Granted that meant getting her bounty fee cut in half considering Casey wanted Flint alive. Before she could continue further, Rhi grimaced upon catching a whiff of expired milk and jelly emitting from a woman that bumped into her during a drunken haze. Rhi forcibly pushed the intoxicated gal away, earning a fit of laughs as the scantily clad female swayed off.

Why do people have to stink so fucking bad? Rhi thought to herself after taking out a Crime Wave cigarette, shoving it into her mouth and quickly lit it up while waiting for her target to leave the establishment. Probably getting his dick wet with cunny juice. Who could blame Flint? Sex was good. The ladies and men that worked in The Poison Apple were sexy for gene junkies to boot.

The aroma of peach and weed musk filled her taste buds with a fervor. Nothing could ever beat the natural taste and smell of Crime Waves. Best of all Rhi couldn’t get high from them. The marijuana however allowed her to tune out most smells. Rhi could feel a pleasant hum floating in her nose now, the marijuana in the product saiting her olfactory zone for the time being. It was a terrible habit of hers, smoking. Rhi didn’t care. It helped her fit in with the local nightlife and spared her a couple hours of smelling genetic defaults in human sweat. Once upon a time when she didn’t have Crime Wave cigarettes to tame her senses, Rhi would get so fed up with the smells she’d end up killing the people that stood out the most in the crowd. Now that she learned to adapt to human society, Rhi realized that was a big no no to kill on the spot. Well, unless she was having a treat yourself day.

Inhaling for a final time, Rhi allowed the smoke to snake through her nostrils as she exhaled then put the rest of the cigarette out. She took a moment to gauge in her surroundings. There were hologram commercials playing on every corner, with the same stout middle aged man in everyone but with different attire from glittered out tuxedos to wearing nothing but a cowboy hat or doing an impersonation of Prince. Pop up Wheezy was the name of the actor. DNA havoc! Ravage’s favorite alcoholic beverage! Try out the new doberman flavor! Exotic and raw! Straight to your tongue! The Vipers Den has everything! Sex, drinks, 80s music, and personal rooms to cater to whatever devious shit your little heart can think of! Book a conference room now! You win some you lose some, but you’ll always be welcome at Drongos. Ravage’s finest watering hole! Let us cater to you! Rhi wasn’t sure which was more annoying: Pop up Wheezy, or humans in general. Both probably.

A couple passed by Rhi as she watched The Poison Apple doors like a hawk. Rhi caught the actions of the two for a brief moment out of curiosity. Their eyes were a mess of blues, reds, and greens. Eye coloration like that was usually a dead giveaway that said person was a gene junkie. It was quite common on the streets of Ravage to encounter people who have dabbled with animal genes. Using high powered chemical cocktails to enhance one’s physicality via the traits of other organisms. It became an overnight sensation in the black market, genie, once upon a time, but had the worst side effects.

Their laughter got under Rhi’s skin. Especially the male who doused himself up with a genie cocktail of cat and frog DNA. He had bulbous eyes like a frog but the fleshy orbs had that signature cat slit as the pupil. His feline features, the whiskers and button nose, were enhanced by his laughter, though he couldn’t help but make a ribbiting sound in his throat as the flesh would bob in time. The female, whom Rhi assumed might have been a girlfriend or fuck buddy, had canine DNA. She had two big floppy ears, a saggy face, and a semi snout. To Rhi she looked more like a baboon than a dog. Rhi assumed the female was a newbie to the drug scene, from her jittery behavior and single genie dose. More experienced genie users loved to mix and match animal genetics to obtain unique attributes. The young twenty something nearly barked when her gentleman caller tried his luck at tickling her. Like a rabid dog, she bit him hard and thrashed around like she was tearing up a newspaper. He let out a harsh meow, but laughed it off. His first three fingers on the left hand were dangling by a tendon, blood pooling slowly around him, but he didn’t seem to mind.

To be young, dumb, and fucking stupid.

The two swayed, bumping into one another like a couple of drunk high school lovers, shushing each other as if their parents were going to find out they were wasted from a prom party. Rhi turned to face them fully for a moment. They were annoying, but she couldn’t help letting out a chuckle at their antics, especially once their temporary tails poked out of their pants started feeling one another up. It made Rhi envious. She hadn’t been able to get out of her meatsuit in a month. Her own tail was chafing for all she fucking knew. Rhi could almost feel it trying to break out of her flesh prison.

Rhi’s attention went back on the establishment. Now that the Crime Wave smoke filled her nose, it helped her tune everyone’s scent out minus her target, which she was able to give her undivided attention. She thought back to how he smelled. His sweat was a combination of tar and peanut oil, greasy and bitter. Rhi allowed that scent to flow back into her skull, almost to the point where she could taste it with every deep breath. Clicks and deep guttural growls escaped her throat as she tasted the air for her mark. Her nostrils flared, flexing like a cocaine users after taking a hit. There was no chance in hell Flint was going to be able to escape her. Not tonight.

Her red-green eyes widened. Rhi’s pupils went from dark abyssal orbs to reptilian slits as the blue neon lights across the street lit up. Rhi blinked a few times to adjust to the new lighting, then noticed her target was moving out of the stripper joint and heading down main street.

Pfft. Didn’t take long. Twenty minutes tops. Flint must be ‘fun’ at parties if he couldn’t last an hour in there. Before pursuing her hunt further, Rhi took another deep inhale through her nose. Nope. Her guy didn’t get lucky tonight. There was no smell of sex lingering off the poor bastard. She almost felt sorry for the poor fella. Almost.

Rhi observed Flint Jasper duck for cover into the farmers market. The smell of rancid dog shit hit Flint like a pound of bricks and he brought up a part of his tattered t-shirt to cover his nose. Rhi could tell the barking was intense for him, and he looked like he wanted to throw up whatever contents he possibly drank at The Poison Apple. Rhi had the impression Flint purposefully came here assuming the smells from the canines approaching the slaughter houses would throw her off.

Casually, Rhi took notice Flint would observe the food auctions going off. People buying the canines for meat resources. Flint jumped as a large doberman breed being shot between the eyes with a needle gun, stunning the animal while the butcher went to work cutting and separating the meat out to their customers. Rhi recalled overhearing Flint mention at The Vipers Den that he had eaten dog, but could never bring himself to butcher them. Flint was a rare type of man in this day and age. He didn’t like to get personally acquainted with his food. Rhi on the other hand, was quite the opposite.

Rhi could remember when she first encountered Flint at The Vipers Den when Casey first contracted her. She tried not to appear intimidating. Not on direct sight. Rhi flaunted her haughty nature, and bragged about how she was one of the best fixers in Ravage. A person whom made arrangements for people especially of a devious nature. It was much like bounty hunting, but with style. She could tell Flint was taken aback by the statement given that she was playful and a little too cocky. Even by first appearances, one wouldn’t think Rhi would be involved with some of the darker aspects of Ravage but here she was, talking to Flint like they were old school chums.

Her and Flint had hit it off well. She could tell he had a thing for her eyes. He even went as far as to compliment Rhi that her eyes reminded him of the rare emerald gemstone. She had him charmed like a snake. Upon seeing the red in her green hues, Rhi could tell Flint was thrown off and grew more cautious around her. Though he did compliment the scar under her eye. It was crescent shaped but flipped with the bowl of it turning up, meeting directly with those piercing orbs of hers. He said it was pretty, then quickly bolted once he put two and two together that perhaps Casey hired her and she wasn’t really into him. Rhi had a feeling too Flint got the vibes that she wasn’t a run of the mill gene junkie. Even with some of her animalistic attributes, there was something off about her compared to them.

Rhi could see Flint visibly swallow nervously after doing a quick scan of the farmers market and adjusted his shirt accordingly as he moved out of the area and away from the putrid dog shit. Flint was an idiot for assuming Rhi would never be able to get him. Besides for having a rep, Rhi knew people. Knew how to get the right connections to find her targets. He was impeccably stupid compared to other targets Rhi had taken down in the past. Most people that knew Rhi had a bounty on them would go to her at this point, saving themselves the trouble of being hunted down. They’d either try to kill her themselves or would make a plea bargain. Rhi loved it when people owed her favors. That’s why she was quick to take up those offers and half a bounty fee instead of the whole. Flint was running away like a coward, thinking he could outsmart her just because he got a tip about her sense of smell and how her head could get overstimulated from scents. She had to give him credit, at least he tried.

Rhi was so close to Flint now, she could practically taste his flesh.

“Hey tuna melt.” Flint froze, turning around after he felt hot breath creep against his hair and neck. Rhi’s voice penetrated his eardrums, and his heart thudded deeply in his chest. He was scared out of his wits that Rhi could almost clap in time with the sound his pulse was making. Like a deer in the headlights, Flint was locked in place, ready to meet the headlights of the vehicle. His skin was littered with goosebumps as he tried to hide a nervous swallow. That got Rhi to chuckle as she came around to talk to him face to face.

“You wouldn’t be trying to run away from me now, would you Flint?” Her tone was mocking, albeit playful in nature. Rhi was toying with him and enjoying it thoroughly.

“N-no. Nothing like that!” Flint managed to choke out, trying to sound normal. “People know better than to run away from you, Rhi. Look--I was in a hurry. A lot of errands to run, you know, for the boss. I need to be getting back to Casey. You know how he gets about people being late. I mean--he’s hired you before.”

Rhi raised a brow. Looking over Flint like a parent would after catching said child in a lie. Playing dumb. Most targets of hers pulled this shit. It got old real fast.

Sighing, Rhi shook her head scratching the side of her cheek and smiled wide. Flint noticed how unnatural her lips looked. Almost like her mouth wanted to expand, grow larger, but restrained itself. Like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. Meeting her red green eyes didn’t help the fear that was creeping up in his spine. Flint wanted to shit himself. His body was bracing itself for a fight or flight response. His eyes widened as he noticed one of Rhi’s sharp shark like teeth poking out.

“Look Flint, I don’t know you too well even after during our little swaray at The Vipers Den. You seem like a nice bloke, but you pissed off a very powerful guy. You done fucking goofed, asshole. So don’t lie to me. Casey wants you dead for your little side business embezzling money from his personal account, but I’m going to give you a couple options to get out of this mess because--” Rhi was cut dangerously short as Flint in a moment of weakness and terror, pulled out a handgun and fired.

Flashes of light and the piercing sound of machinery went to work, the guns gears clicked rapidly with the slick sound of flesh being pierced echoed throughout the marketplace. Rhi’s blood flew all over in a spectacular splash of different shades of red, her body flailed as it followed the impact of each bullet that hit her skin. The customers and owners of the dog farms moved out of the way, some screaming, others not caring in the slightest. It was another night in Ravage after all.

After Flint had made his move and bolted from the scene, the smell of the gunpowder began to recede and the strong stench of blood began to emit in their air. Everyone went back to business leaving Rhi’s body to whatever wanted to scavenge her corpse.

Rhi breathed heavily after five minutes of stillness. As she felt air fill her lungs, Rhi sounded like a feral beast catching a first wind after running. A gal smoking nearby watched, taken aback as the cigar she was chewing the butt end of fell from her chapped lips and toppled on the ground. The young twenty somethings eyes held a petrified look to them as Rhi slowly stood up. She was bathed in several streams of blood that stained the white over shirt she wore, seeping into the black t-shirt underneath the soft fabric.

“Mother fucker—” She gasped as a worn out series of chuckles began to escape from her mouth. These didn’t sound like the carefree childlike ones she had been displaying earlier. These were more sinister. And as the slick muscle of her tongue darted out, revealing it to be a dark blue color and gently swiped at her own fluids that painted her face, she vowed that Flint was going to regret putting a bullet in her hide.

Getting up, Rhi patted herself down, wincing occasionally from the bullets bee like sting. Her eyes glanced up at the woman who was still gawking. Smiling and giving an inhuman chuckle, Rhi shrugged her shoulders and gave the woman her full attention.

“You heard me right? I said I was gonna give him some options! Can you tell me where my shooter ran off too?”

Rhi had never seen a human pass out so quick.

“Well, fuck you too mate.”

RAVAGE CITY

THE ABANDONED AIRPORT

10:00PM

Flint’s right leg gave out on him after he hit one of the light poles. His running became more weak over time. He pressed himself to keep going, to get out of the area. He had pumped twelve bullets into Rhi’s body. She wasn’t going to be his problem any longer unless, but the repercussions for killing someone with notoriety was well on his mind. There were people in power that would be pissed off to hear a fixer such as Rhi went six feet under considering she was one of the best at taking care of people’s personal problems. In retaliation and in honor of the fallen, those in power could send out lackeys to pick off whoever did it. Flint had to get out of here. Had to get out of Ravage, and maybe migrate to one of the other thirteen tribal cities. Carnivora sounded good. The violence and crime wasn’t a high point compared to Ravage. It meant he would never have to deal with embezzling scandals ever again.

He tried to calm his erratic breathing. His pulse had skyrocketed. Flint covered his own mouth to get his body to chill and took refuge in an alley. Now came the hardest part of this whole ordeal: waiting. Waiting for his body to calm down before moving on. Flint was near what was once an old airport. He could see one of the hundred year old planes in the distance now a decaying relic of the past with rust and vegetation growing from it. Planes hadn’t been used since the early 2100’s in Australia, not since the Resource Wars. The place was incredibly silent. Flint could only hear his own heartbeat, the warm air flowing from his nose and the semi humid Australian air that breezed by.

He had tears in his eyes now. This was not how he wanted to go. Flint had dreamed of getting out of Ravage for a long time, and he thought stealing money from crime lord Casey would help him get out fast. He didn’t want to be in Ravage too once he found out the plans for city some folks had in mind. Flint slid down against the alley wall, hitting his head on the brick a couple of times. He felt stupid for believing that he could outsmart someone like Rhi or Casey, that no one would catch onto the embezzlements.

Flint remained in place for five minutes as he collected his thoughts. It felt like hours as his pulse ticked by like the hands of a clock on its last limbs. Somehow through the fog of adrenaline and anxiety he forced himself to look around the corner of the garbage bin. His dark eyes roved the area, not seeing anyone or anything. He quietly brought his head back.

Red green eyes stared at him mere inches away. Close enough he could see their reptilian slits Those hadn’t been there before. Flint felt several pops in his face that had a similar sensation to being bitten by a swarm of hornets; warm breath hitting his face like a steam bath and his vision disappeared in a wave of sickle sharp teeth and a blue tongue with its own set of miniature knives. He screamed loudly into the unhinged mouth of Rhi as she ravaged and skinned his face off with her mouth. She shook her head back and forth, sounding like a dog chewing up a toy. Warm blood hit her skin and Flints screams became deeper and echoed down her throat. She’d pull away after growing tired of using Flint as her personal pacifier, the skin of his face caught on the bottom section of her teeth as she could see the porcelain glow of his skull underneath delicate layers of muscle. She swallowed the last bits of his face. Flint was still screaming, his eyes now so big and bulbous without skin covering them that for a moment it made Rhi uneasy, recalling a zombie in an old 80s flick that looked like poor Flint in this sorry state. It didn’t stop Rhi from grabbing Flint by the head and bashing his skull into the brick wall behind him. It was like a bowling ball dropping on a watermelon. Bits of brain and bone flew in every direction before the body slumped over. Flint was no more.

Deep growls left Rhi’s throat as she collected herself. Her face was twisted in a glare that wouldn’t go away as she got up and decided to walk off her high. She stopped herself short feeling the sting from the bullets beginning to make their strike yet again. She leaned against a giant light pole nearby, her eyes closing while she focused on the sounds of the city. The various screeches from cars being stopped at the last second, the piercing sound of an angry group getting ready to fight, the voice of the warm summer rain hitting the ground, even the smells in the air had their broken promises and endless bounty. She could easily fall asleep right now.

Rhi took in a deep breath and another. Several bystanders appeared, exiting out of some night clubs and other establishments. Rhi composed herself and began to walk back towards Flints carcass.

“This is the worst walk of shame I’ve taken since I tapped that drag queen last spring,” She muttered to herself. Such fuck ups in life made her laugh. It made it easier to get through the day. Rhi didn’t care for the outcome of this job.

Contrary to popular belief, the fixer didn’t like killing unless she had to. Unless she was hungry. Something she was reminded of when she came across the violent aftermath of her glorious display of power. Petrichor and the metallic scent of Flints blood intermingled in a lovely dose of a natural perfume. She devoured it like candy. Rhi didn’t want to kill him, didn’t intend to but he made his choice. Technically he’d done her a favor: One, she didn’t have to give him a backdoor out of Casey’s possible death penalty. Two, she got to sate her animal needs that had been neglected for a while.

Rhi licked her chops before her mouth receded back. No longer was it that huge snake like gape, but now she carried about her regular appearance. No big ass Cheshire Cat like mouth could be seen, and no sharp teeth either. She stepped through the oozing tar pit of blood, guts and skin to come across Flints wallet lying beside him. She pick pocketed then started shoving some of the brain matter and bone bits into her mouth. Rhi sat down and picked up bone and tissue like crumbs off a pizza. Her lips smacked in pleasure as she treated herself before having to haul the body.

“Jesus fuck. Flints mom should have been shot when she found out she was gonna give birth to this cunt…” Cursing was her personal therapy when she got shot.

Rhi was beginning to head out with Flints corpse dangling from her left shoulder like a stereotypical caveman carrying a woman to his den, when she felt the vibration of her phone below her knee in a pocket of her cargo pants. She sighed, feeling like perhaps maybe there was some deity out there that just wanted to see her bend over and burn from her wounds. Rhi reached for the cell phone in her pocket. She dumped the corpse down beside her feet while she took the call.

“Yorgi! You grade A cunt, how’s it going?” She tried to put on her most cheerful voice to keep her associate from picking up on her not sounding well.

“Hey Rhi we need to talk about the--”

“Look mate we can spit in the wind later I’m in the middle of tagging my mark.”

“But Rhi I need to--”

“Yorgi I love you, but piss off mate.”

While hearing her associate chat it up on the other end, there were more folks coming into the area, taking the party scene with them. As when Rhi got shot, no one really cared about seeing a corpse by her feet. A body could be lying on the street and no one would bat an eyelash until it rot. Such was Ravage life. A couple people had some perplexed looks when they saw Flints body next to Rhi. She knew she needed to get out of there before anyone got too curious for their own good. After being able to hunt and feed after such a long while, Rhi would love more than anything to tally up the body count. She needed to tend to her wounds instead.

“Yorgi I’m gonna have to call you back. I’m about to get some fast food and head home. Anyway if you bump into Casey, let him know I took care of Flint. We came to a mutual understanding on the embezzlement case.”

With that she hung up putting the phone back into her pocket, bent down and swung her prize carcass over her shoulder and began to head back home whistling an 80s tune she couldn’t remember the name of.

RAVAGE CITY

THE FIVE POINT FLATS

11:30PM

The clatter from the flats elevator came to a halt when Yorgi arrived at his and Rhi’s pad. A large yawn escaped his mouth as he scratched the dark stubble on his face with two cybernetic fingers. One was getting rusty after the first month. The cheap metal was wearing thin. His back shivered, still not use to the cold his new limbs emitted before he pushed the elevator door up and out of the way. Home sweet home, he thought to himself. Yorgi paused for a moment to observe his and Rhi’s flat. 80s memorabilia such as posters littered the walls. Intricate tapestries hung from the ceiling. Ten of their fans were spinning at a snail's pace, doing little to get rid of the humidity. The flats deck area was covered in lights, some were blinking rapidly while on their last limbs. Pillows and shirts were littered on the living room floor nearby the L couch. He could smell Rhi’s scent which was like peaches and cream permeating from that area. Yorgi needed to remind Rhi that her nests needed to be picked up after she was done phasing. He’d wait until tomorrow to fight with her on that. He was exhausted. Besides earning his fixer bounties for the night, he had been trying to track down Rhi. He was still mildly irritated at how she had hung up on him earlier. He then proceeded to the kitchen to get a much needed drink.

Yorgi kicked off his boots near the fridge and rubbed the sweat off his face with both his palms. Yorgi stopped midway after taking a big inhale. Something smelled god awful coming from their secondary living room. It was a rancid flavor. He followed the trail, inhaling occasionally before he found the source, a corpse on the couch, and nearly leapt like a gazelle evading a lion’s frontal attack. Panting heavily, Yorgi observed Rhi watching television. 80s and 90s esque shopping commercials played on the Nostal-Channel. Her four fingers dipped into Flint’s carcass, pulling up intestines and god knows what else like it was a bag of popcorn and munched on the organs contently.

“Crikey!” Yorgi breathed out loud.

Rhi’s nostrils flared when she picked up on Yorgi’s scent, smoke and whiskey, and she turned her head to face a highly irritated associate. His arms were crossed, looking down at her like a parent catching their child sneaking back into the house after they had been on a drunken rave binge with friends. She smiled big then grinned to show off those sickle teeth, stained with blood.

“Hey buddy!” She exclaimed.

“You got shot. You’re bleeding into the couch. You fucking suicidal imbecile!”

“How observant of you.”

Yorgi sighed and face palmed, rolling his eyes as his head shook.

“Rhi, you said you were off getting fast food.”

Rhi looked down at Flint’s carcass that was sitting beside her on the couch as if she were having a movie date night. The arms were even resting at the top of the black furniture like so. Not batting an eyelash, Rhi once more dipped her hand into Flints stomach and pulled out an organ and plopped it into her mouth. As she munched, Rhi gave an innocent shrug to Yorgi’s remark then looked him dead in the eye as she chuckled.

“Well he ran, didn’t he?”

She wasn’t expecting Yorgi to backhand her upside the head that quick.

RAVAGE CITY

THE FIVE POINT FLATS

12:15AM

“That looks bad Rhi.” Yorgi murmured as he sat in on one of the stools nearby, his dark brows furrowing tightly as he observed how deep the bullet wounds traveled. In the bright lighting and with her shirt off, the injuries looked more grotesque. It didn’t bother Rhi as she took a pair of tweezers and sunk it into one of the fleshy pockets. The gurgling sounds from metal meeting squishy flesh bothered her ears as she winced, digging around for the bullet before clamping down and ripping the bullet out. To Rhi, this was the equivalent of ripping a botfly maggot from the skin. Bullets behaved a lot like them, wanting to burrow further and greatly resisted being pried at.

“It could have been worse. I’m getting better at pushing them out. Gotta give me some credit there.”

“Last month you could handle up to five bullets after shooting yourself.”

“You got a point to that?”

“My point being is you took twelve hits!” Yorgi gestured with his hands, counting the amount on his fingers, exaggerating some but nonetheless was trying to get his point across to her. “Twelve my friend, twelve! Twelve shots tonight you crazy bitch!”

“I could use twelve shots of another kind after this if you catch my drift--”

“No, no drinks for you after tonight.” Yorgi interrupted.

Rhi couldn’t help but smile, trying to suppress a laugh as she went to work digging another metal seed out. Yorgi was right about one thing, even though he didn’t outright say it. She needed to take it easy when it came to testing her body’s limits. Then again Rhi wasn’t one to hold back when it came to pushing past the envelope, even if it ended up killing her in the process. If she could push science past the edge of no return, then surely there was a way for her to expand on her meat suit.

“You sound like my ex when you worry.” Rhi said.

“Well if your ex was alive, I’m sure he’d have a heart attack knowing the freaky shit you dab in.”

Rhi smiled again as she ripped another bullet out and placed it into a tray nearby with a solution at the bottom that would eat away any traces of her blood. Sighing, she took a moment to wipe off the sweat that had been trickling down her face with the backside of her palm.

She decided to change subjects while the ball was in her court otherwise she wouldn’t hear the end of his lecturing about self care. “I’m going to need a clean up crew at the site where I killed Flint.”

Yorgi rubbed at the fine black hairs on his chin. His eyes held a sadness in them. Yorgi knew what she was doing, once more trying to push him away. Even though Rhi had a hard ass nature, he had the feeling she often downplayed her personal bullshit, getting shot or otherwise, so others wouldn’t worry too much about her wellbeing. Or it could have been her animal nature telling her not to appear wounded for fear of being challenged.

“You’re perfectly capable of ripping apart a human body, you’re perfectly capable of handling the cleanup by yourself. Not to mention you could have licked the place clean.”

Yorgi snorted as Rhi looked at him via the rustic cheval mirror she was using to help see her body in the bathroom.

“True I could take care of the mess, but given half the women Flint slept with I wouldn’t be surprised if I catch an STD and die tonight after eating most of him. I might be too sick to clean up. Besides you wouldn’t send poor little me out there after I got shot up, would you?”

The quietness of the room was interrupted by Yorgi’s booming laugh. Despite not knowing much about Flint, it was well known in Ravage he was a bit of a man whore. Rhi could attest to that given how he had come onto her at The Vipers Den.

“Poor little you? Don’t make me laugh. It’s funny how Flint had a penchant for fucking women according to Casey. Didn’t think the poor bloke had it in him. I thought for sure Flint was under the belief to never trust something that bleeds for days and doesn’t die. Much like yourself.”

“The period joke is a little juvenile, don’t you think Yorgi?”

“Hm..you’re right I need to work on that. Considering you don’t go through what most females endure.”

They both snorted, then went back to enjoying a few moments of silence. The two knew as soon as Rhi would haul the last of the bullets from her body the serious talk would begin. They’d have to be quick and on the clock to get their shit done. As Yorgi let out a puff of air, he nearly regretted going out for the night to take care of his own marks. Then again he wasn’t expecting Rhi’s meet up with Flint to end this bad.

Once the final bullet had been snatched, Rhi fell back into the chair in full. Letting out soothing breaths. Her chest would slowly rise and fall almost to the point where she could easily fall asleep. There was still work to be done in the young night, and her red green eyes shot open and she adjusted in the chair accordingly to face her associate.

The three large claw scars on the left side of her chest illuminated more under the light after she moved, and Yorgi’s throat bobbed as he briefly gazed upon her breast area at the patches of rough pink skin. Even after all this time they had known each other, he felt intimidated by her body . He found it honoring and scary he could sit in the same room with her at times and hold a conversation like two old school buddies, especially when Yorgi knew what Rhi was. Truly was.

“Let’s get something straight, I would have cleaned up the scene, but I got sidetracked.” Rhi began, giving a brief pause as she locked eyes with Yorgi, making sure he was listening in full. “Flint was involved with Dingo Snake Exy.”

The raised brows and the “o” shape at Yorgi’s mouth showed his shock. Nine times out of ten, if Yorgi thought something was up shits creek his face would contort into a variety of obscene features.

“You being serious?” He asked.

“As serious as I am about purposefully letting Flint shoot me up so I could get a few days off from this fucking job.”

“Wait, so you allowed yourself to get shot just so you could take a fucking day off?”

“Duh.”

Rhi smiled and winked much to Yorgi’s chagrin. “Anyway…what makes you think Flint had it in with the ‘mother nature’ cult?” Yorgi asked.

“On the way back home I dug through Flint’s wallet. He had some sticky notes cramped up where his money should have been. Apparently he was helping Dingo Snake Exy smuggle in GMOs. Fifteen specimens were promptly delivered to them.” Rhi said.

“Flint never gave the impression he was a smuggler.”

“You learn something new everyday about humans,” Rhi paused and continued. “The only place anyone can get GMO’s is from Carnivora, but their security is so tight I don’t see how a guy like Flint could get in, much less persuade someone to let him leave the city with any modified creature. I remember when we had to smuggle GMOs it was a pain in the ass. We barely made it through. Hell we don’t take those gigs anymore, but how did he do it?”

Yorgi sighed. “There’s always Rikers Enterprises. They’re within our borders. God knows what kind of stuff they are up to in there when it comes to genetic engineering.”

Rhi had to agree with her associate, except there was something that didn’t set right with her. Rikers was a secretive company within Ravage. They worked on biological enhancements to help save humanity from the impending doom of global warming and resources near run dry. The company was founded in 2112 around the time the Australian civil war subsided and worked on creating genetically modified animals that could adapt to an earth that lacked clean air, water, and other valuable natural resources. After a number of years Rikers tanked, money ran dry, but they still continued to produce product and work with the other tribal cities in the area to de-extinct plants, clone dogs and cats for the farmers markets since bovines were permanently extinct, and the like. Rikers was a humble company. They kept to themselves, provided resources for citizens in Ravage and the other tribal cities, and people left them alone.

So after all this time of keeping a low profile, why the hell would they be involved with Dingo Snake Exy? If Flint wasn’t smuggling from Carnivora, Ravage’s sister city, then what business did he have taking from Rikers Enterprises?

Rhi was in deep thought. She hadn’t said a word in a while. She contemplated about her possible connection to Rikers. Given that Rhi wasn’t human, not in the slightest, it was assumed the company had something to do with it.

“So what are we going to do?” Yorgi asked.

“First, I want you to take care of the cleanup for me while I recover. Then I want you to do me a solid and go to The Poison Apple where I caught Flint poking around. See if he talked to anyone from Dingo Snake Exy or otherwise. It’s not our place to get involved with the cults business unless they pay us, but I gotta figure out how the hell a cockroach like Flint was able to get his hands on GMOs.”

“Why the urgency?” Yorgi asked.

“Yorgi, think about it. The last time we had a job smuggling GMOs we nearly got our asses handed over. If we didn’t have enough money bragging the cops to get off our butts we would have been executed given how valuable the assets were that we stole for Richfield Rex. Figuring out how Flint pulled it off would be a business opportunity for us.” Rhi’s enthusiasm leaked in her words.

“You got a point Reese.” Yorgi smirked. He liked the direction she was going. There was more money to be made in smuggling GMOs than taking care of people’s personal problems in the fixing world. Rhi and him needed a new scene.

For now, Rhi needed to rest. Maybe have a few drinks before taking a dive into the covers of a warm bed. She couldn’t do much when she had taken quite the punch.

Yorgi sighed and got up from the stool, looking down upon her as he mentally prepared himself for the long night of work ahead. Cleaning up murder scenes was his forte. He had seen brutal shit, but there was something unsettling whenever he had to take care of Rhi’s killing sprees. Which is why most of the time she took it upon herself to do his job for him cause most cases were so ghastly, he’d end up hurling.

“Before I go I got a call from your pal BWM. He was wondering if you’d help him out on an assignment in the Ruin District. Said he’s willing to make a cut with you, yeah?”

The tired, almost glossy look in Rhi’s eyes were subdued by intrigue as her orbs widened subtly. She seemed to perk up rather quick.

“Did he mention what kind of assignment it was?”

Yorgi shook his head. “He said he’d give the details to you personally either by phone or in person. You know how eccentric the mother fucker is.” He smirked. “But since you’re hurt and now on a temporary vacation I guess I could take the job in your stead and—“

“Nah I’m good. I’ll call him first thing tomorrow.” Rhi said.

Yorgi had an exasperated look on his features as he groaned.

“You went through all that trouble getting your ass nearly blown up just so you could have a few days to yourself, now you’re suddenly feeling better to go help BWM?”

Rhi smirked, shrugging as she closed her eyes again. This time letting the gentle coax of sleep take her momentarily.

“Hey, I need money still since I lost out on the fifty grand killing Flint in a rage. It was worth it to me at the time, but I know Casey wanted to do it himself. He’s not going to happy with the results. And more money equals food and paying off cops.”

Yorgi couldn’t argue with that. He swallowed roughly. Trying to keep it subtle but Rhi knew this part of the clean up job when it came to her dealings always bothered him to one degree or another. It was a fact of life, and considering what the woman was, this was only natural.

“Do you want the remains of Flint on the couch rare, medium, or well done?”

She could almost smell the flesh again upon hearing Yorgi’s words. Her long dark blue tongue darted out slowly from her mouth like a snake exiting its den as she licked her chops. Her eyes half open as she looked over at Yorgi with a carnal smile.

“Just put them my freezer when you’re done. G’night Bushy Baba. Owch!”

Strike two for Yorgi backhanding her.

“You know I don’t like you using my old stripper name.”

Rubbing her head, Rhi smirked. “Why, is it giving you an existential crisis?”

“Nah, just further proving my point that nothing matters in the world. At the end of the day we’re all lousy strippers. Trying to put our bodies out there for someone to take interest intermingling their genes with ours so we live on somehow. Life is about fucking and getting fucked over.”

“If nothing matters then why did you care about me calling you Bushy?” Rhi countered.

“I--well--” Yorgi was at a loss for words on his hypocrisy.

Rhi shrugged not knowing anything clever to say. She always felt put on a spot when it came to Yorgi having one of his nihilistic rants. Most people in Ravage had a passive aggressive approach to nihilism much like Yorgi. It was the staple diet for people’s minds in the day and age and fit well with their Roman empire culture where everyone knew society was collapsing, so they drank, fucked, and were merry until it was over. Rhi could wrap her head around it to a degree, but like a child, she was still learning the mechanics, the deeper meanings.

“Hey Yorgi,”

“Yeah?”

Rhi figured before the night was through for her, she’d amuse her associate. Snap him out of his funk.

“Last month when I got out of my meatsuit, a man saw me.”

Yorgi’s eyes widened. “Is this something we are gonna have to worry about?”

Rhi shook her head. “I took care of it. But he called me something I never heard of before. Dray-juh.”

“I think the proper term is drah-geh.” He corrected.

“Ring a bell since you’re the language expert?”

“Eh, not really. But it sounds like old Norse. If I could compare it to anything in old English it sounds like dragon, chimera maybe?”

Rhi leaned back in the seat, nodding in approval. She whispered the word to herself several times. For years Rhi had been trying to find something, a word that separates her from the two legged apes she had to share the planet with. Finding her name was easy, but a species name was a whole other job in itself. This new word seemed to fit the bill.

“I think I like being called a drage.”

#outofhotpockets #ooc #ravage #novel #work in progress

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seanpatricklittlewriter · 4 years

Text

A Man of Mystery

--An Abe & Duff Short Story by Sean Patrick Little

The young woman walked into a bar with all the subtlety of a tornado touching down in a suburb. She kicked open the door with a long, slender leg and strode into the center of the narrow club with all the eyes in the place on her. She had a short black skirt that hugged her hips and a billowy white pirate blouse that was cut in a low vee at the neck. She flashed a brilliant smile and made eye contact with all six of the men in the bar. “What’s up, gents?

None of the men answered her. Women were not forbidden at Wheels’s Bar, but they were never exactly running rampant there, either. There were a few ladies who might stop in now and then, but none of them were regulars. Wheels’s place was one of those hole-in-the-wall dives that had a couple of TVs that played a nonstop dose of Chicago-area sports and a few tables along one wall opposite the bar where the regulars took up tall stools. It was not a hip hangout. It did not have fancy blender drinks. Most of the place seemed to be the exact opposite of the sort of joint a woman of any sort of discerning taste would ever set foot. From the outside, the place looked like it was a few days away from being condemned. It did not attract customers. If you were there, it was because you wanted to be there.

None of the men in the bar could be considered a catch. The bartender, Wheels, was a former one-percenter gone into nomad status in a sort of semi-retirement. At one point in his life, he would have struck fear into the heart of anyone who saw him coming down the road on a heavily customized Harley-Davidson. The other five guys were all pudgy, soft, blue-collar minions, most with a Tinder profile that went perpetually unswiped.

The men in the bar were not exactly agog at the sudden presence of an attractive and dynamic woman, but neither did the know how to process her suddenly showing up in their depressing little den of waning testosterone.

The woman did not seem to notice their discomfort. She walked right up to the bar. “How’re the Cubs doing?”

Rodridgo “Sally” Salazar, a paunchy Latino who normally worked as a painting contractor, swallowed the mouthful of Miller Lite he’d forgotten to swallow when the woman kicked in the door. “Uh, not great.”

“Typical.” The woman slapped a black Visa card onto the bar. “You take fantastic plastic, I assume?”

Wheels Wright shrugged. “All forms of legal tender and credit are acceptable at Wheels’s Bar. What are you drinking?”

“What do you have that’s expensive?”

Expensive drinks were not usually served at Wheels’s place. A retired bus driver with abnormally hair eyes named Billy Butkis, leaned forward. “I think Wheels has a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue somewhere in here.”

“Perfect!” The woman nodded toward the stack of bottles at the mirrored counter behind Wheels. “Let’s crack that sucker open and pour some drinks for me and all my new friends.”

“I can’t afford to drink no JW Blue,” said Billy.

“I’m buying, friend. I’m Tracy, by the way. C’mon, let’s have some fun.” She pushed the card toward Wheels.

The bartender picked it up and swiped it through the old card machine next to the register. After a second, it spit out a receipt. His eyebrows arched in surprise; he had probably been expecting it to be rejected. “I guess everyone’s drinking Blue tonight.”

There was a mild cheer from the guys at the bar.

Sally was impressed. “Can I make mine a double? I ain’t never had any fancy whiskey before?”

“Fuck it; make ‘em all doubles,” said Tracy. “Doubles for everyone.”

Wheels stacked up five glasses and poured a health slug into each.

Tracy did a quick head count. “There’s seven of us here. We need two more.”

“Nah.” Wheels pointed to his ever-present mug of black coffee. “I’m sober almost ten years, and that sad sack in the corner only drinks beer.” Wheels jabbed a thumb at a chubby man in a hooded sweatshirt and Milwaukee Brewers cap. He was bald beneath the cap, and clean-shaven. He had sad eyes and a pale complexion.

“You only drink beer?” Sally looked at the guy in the Brewers cap. “I never noticed.”

The man held up his Miller Lite. “If you’re buying, you can refill this thing for me.”

“Done.” Tracy nodded at Wheels. “Give the man with the bad taste in baseball teams a Miller Lite on me and split whatever’s left in the bottle of blue into these glasses.”

Wheels did as she bid and killed the rest of the bottle, filling each of the five lowball glasses to a potentially lethal level. “That’s a lot of whiskey, hey?”

“Hey, indeed.” Tracy picked up her glass and held it aloft in front of her. “To new friends.” The other men at the bar quickly snatched up their glasses and held them aloft, echoing her toast. Tracy clinked her glass to the other four glasses of whiskey and nodded toward the Miller Lite drinker in the corner. He did not return the gesture, only picked up his bottle and took a drink, his eyes drifting back to the TV where the Cubs were blowing a three-run lead in the top of the seventh.

Tracy was bubbly and fun. The regular barflies were a little shocked by this. They usually sat at the bar in sullen silence, ate the free peanuts while they drank their bottles of major-label beers, and cursed at the Cubs’ middle-relievers when they hung curveballs over the center of the plate that ended up getting tattooed into the deep left field bleachers. Tracy told bawdy jokes. She laughed easily. She asked the guys questions that made them feel like she was really interested in them. And most importantly, she kept buying drinks.

At one point, she noticed the dusty jukebox in the far corner of the bar. “Does that thing still work?”

Wheels nodded. “Works great. None of these cheap-asses ever uses it, though.”

“We’d rather hear the game,” said Sally.

Tracy turned on her stool and dropped to the floor on unsteady legs, the effects of the copious amounts of booze evident as she swayed over to the machine. She flipped through the lists of available songs. “Christ. Is there anything on this thing from before 1976?”

“No. I wouldn’t risk accidentally hearing disco,” said Wheels.

“I tried to get him to put some Duran Duran on there once.” Sally covered his neck with his hands defensively. “Wheels threatened to cut me with a broken bottle.”

“Plenty of Beach Boys, if you’re into real music.” Billy added his two cents. “Far as I’m concerned, Brian Wilson is twice the musical genius John Lennon ever was.”

Tracy patted her miniskirt. “No pockets. Anyone got a dollar?”

Sally rushed over to her side, his roly-poly body jiggling all the way. He handed her a five-dollar bill. “Least I can do to pay you back for the drinks.”

“This will get us thirty songs.” Tracy fed the bill into the machine. She started tapping in the codes for different tracks. In seconds, the thin audio of the ball game commentary was buried beneath the harmonies of the Beach Boys.

Tracy danced on wobbly legs. Sally started dancing along with her, doing his own, arrhythmic version of 1950s craze, The Jerk. Tracy danced back to the bar and bought another round. The Blue was gone, so she had Wheels fetch his second-best whiskey, a liter of J. Henry & Sons from a micro-distillery in Dane, Wisconsin.

Wheels watched Tracy with concern. “You’re kind of poring it on there, miss. You going to be alright?”

“Are you my dad? Believe me, I can hold my liquor.”

“I never doubted you could. Just pointing out that you’ve had a lot for someone your size.”

Tracy winked at Wheels. “You calling me skinny?”

“Something like that.”

“I’ll take it. How ‘bout you use my card and order us a few pizzas? You boys want some pizzas?”

“I could eat.” Sally resumed his seat at the bar.

“I ain’t never seen you turn down food,” said Billy.

Dirty Ernie, a tall, almost anorexic Black man who got his unfortunate nickname because he worked for Waste Management, ponied up to the bar next to Sally. “Get extra. I only got this skinny because I end up in the chow line behind Sally too much.”

“Hey, if you can’t outrun me, that’s on you, Ernie.”

Wheels handed Tracy the cordless phone from under the bar. “You want pizza, go ahead. I don’t have a problem with that.”

Tracy winked at Wheels when she took the phone. She called the place down the street, ordered three large pies, and gave them her credit card info over the phone. Twenty minutes later, three pizzas were walked through the door by a college kid. After he set them on the bar, he handed Tracy the receipt. She scribbled out her signature on the receipt along with a tip.

When the kid saw the tip, his eyes got big. “Ma’am, I think you made a mistake.”

“I know what I did. It’s a gift. Thanks for all you do.”

The kid could barely stammer a thank-you. He backed out of the bar with a smile on his face that even a kick to the nuts would not have washed away.

“What’s the occasion?” Dirty Ernie helped himself to a couple of slices of pepperoni. “You’re spending a lot of money here tonight.”

“I won the lottery,” said Tracy. “I just wanted to spread some of my good fortune.”

“No foolin’?” Sally’s jaw dropped open. “I been buyin’ them fuckin’ tickets for twenty years. Once, I won twenty-four bucks. That’s about it, though.”

“Some days, it just feels good to be lucky, I guess.”

Tracy kept buying drinks until the rummies were good and soused. They ate the pizzas, even Wheels and Duff had a couple of slices. They danced to the thirty songs. Billy and Pauly Ryecliff fell asleep on the bar. Sally eventually got logy and collapsed in a sitting position against the wall. Ernie fell asleep sitting up with his jaw propped up on his hand.

Tracy took the hint. She was practically asleep herself. “Well, I should get on home, I guess.”

“You want me to walk you home?” Wheels looked around. “I could lock these idiots in here for a while. They’d never notice we were gone.”

Tracy held up her phone. “I’m getting an Uber. I’ll be fine.” She kicked off her heels before she dared to climb down off her stool. She was listing hard. It took effort and a hand on the bar to steady herself to pick up her shoes. “I’ll be fine,” she reiterated. “I had a good time with you guys. Thanks.”

“Come back anytime.” Wheels held out the black credit card for her. She grabbed at it, missing a few times before she finally caught it. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m perfect.” Tracy saluted Wheels. “It was nice meeting you all.” Her words slurred together in a drunken jumble. She looked at the fat man in the Brewers cap. “Even you, Mr. Baseball.”

The man just nodded at her. He hadn’t said more than three sentences all night. He just kept watching the game.

Tracy inhaled a deep, cleansing breath of stale barroom air and let it go slowly through pursed lips. It helped to clear her head. She glanced down at her phone. “My Uber is almost here. Thanks, fellas.”

From his spot on the floor, an extremely inebriated Sally tried to say something, but it only came out as nonsense. Hearing the nonsense made him laugh. Laughing made him tip over onto his side, which only made him laugh harder until the laughter suddenly switched to snoring.

Tracy smiled down at him. “Lightweight.”

“Might be the first time he’s been called lightweight in his lifetime.” Wheels flipped the switch by the end of the bar that controlled the open sign in the window. The red neon in the window went dark.

Tracy stumbled out to the sidewalk. It was late September and far too cold for a miniskirt and pirate blouse. The booze had screwed with her internal thermostat, though. She felt the cold press at her skin, but that was as far as it got. Her head was hot, and her face felt warm. The cold air felt good. It was trying to balance out how hot the booze made her feel.

Tracy walked down the block. There was no Uber. There had never been an Uber. She did not even have the Uber app on her phone. Where she was going, she did not need an Uber. She walked to the parking garage down the street on the corner. She ditched her shoes in a trashcan next to the garage. Then, she slipped into the enclosed staircase and started walking up the sixteen flights to the eighth floor. Ten steps up, turn around on the landing, and another ten steps to the second floor. Repeat until she hit the top.

She was winded and jelly-legged by the time she got to the eighth floor. The booze was really surging through her bloodstream now. It made her eyelids heavy and her body feel like lead. She had come to far to fail, though. She had a plan and was going to carry it through.

Tracy pushed through the door at the eighth story of the parking garage and froze. The fat guy in the Brewers cap was standing there leaning on a cane.

At first, Tracy was amazed but then she got angry. “Are you stalking me? You some kind of pervert?” She could not remember his name. Dan? Dave? Fluff?

“Nope. Not in the least. I just figured I’d come up here and try to talk you out of killing yourself.”

His words ran through Tracy like a spear. She suddenly felt very, very cold.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“How? How did you get here before me?”

The fat man pointed with his cane toward the opposite corner of the garage. “Elevator over there.”

She looked over and cursed under her breath. “Well, I came up here for a reason.”

“I know. That’s why I followed you.”

“How did you know?”

The fat man shrugged. “I’m a private investigator. That’s what I do.”

Tracy turned and walked toward the nearest ledge. “That didn’t explain it.”

The man followed her limping badly and leaning heavily on his cane. “I knew you were planning to kill yourself about thirty seconds after you came into the bar.”

Tracy stopped and turned back to him. “How.”

The fat man stopped. “Four things, really: First, you were spending way too much money on strangers. That meant you did not care about paying bills; you were having a last hurrah. Second, the fact that you came into a dead-end bar where you knew you wouldn’t know anyone. You didn’t want to run into anyone you knew either because you felt they might know what you were doing and try to stop you or because you were scared or too sad to see them. Third, you were drinking like someone who wanted to get drunk enough to make bad decisions. You weren’t about to have sex with any of us pathetic degenerates from the bar, so it had to be that you were prepping yourself for a different sort of mission, one where being too drunk to think would be helpful. And lastly, and most importantly, that’s a hell of a tan-line on your left hand where the engagement ring used to be.”

Tracy’s cheeks were suddenly cold. She was crying and the wind was freezing her tears on her skin.

“You want to talk about it?”

Tracy shook her head. She started to climb up the chest-high wall at the edge of the garage. “Don’t try to stop me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. We are all free and independent, aren’t we? If you want to take yourself out of this world, well that’s your right as a sentient being with free will.” The fat man limped over to the wall ten feet to Tracy’s right. He was taller than she was. He leaned his head over the edge and looked down. A low whistle escaped his lips. “That’s a long way down. That’ll do the job, for sure. You won’t even know what hit you.”

Tracy boosted herself to the ledge by using a Volkswagen bumper as a stepping stool. “I’m here for a reason.”

“No doubt. If you want to die, this is a guaranteed way to do it. You’ll probably bounce when you hit the pavement. Did you know that? Human bodies actually bounce when they hit pavement from these sorts of heights. People thing they just go splat, but it’s actually way more disgusting.”

“Stop talking.” Tracy’s stomach was starting to roil. She looked over the edge and a combination of booze, fear, and adrenaline made her guts lurch like she was going over a big wave.

“The trauma of hitting the sidewalk from this height, there’s no surviving it. You’ll probably break a lot of important bones. Your chest cavity will collapse, and rib fragments will pierce your lungs and heart. Your skull will probably fracture. Your aorta will tear. You won’t feel a thing, though. You’ll be dead the second you hit the ground. No pain.”

“Stop. Talking.” Tracy tried to put emphasis on her command, but her stomach betrayed her. She suddenly spewed a whole night’s worth of pizza and booze eight stories down to the sidewalk.

“That was a good precursor to the main event.” The guy limped a little closer to her. “Before you do this, why don’t you tell me why you’re doing it? You know, for the statement I’ll inevitably have to give to the police who show up and demand to know why I didn’t try to physically restrain you before you did your best Franz Reichelt impression?”

“Who?”

“Franz Reichelt. He invented the parachute. Well, sort of. He tried to test his invention and took a header off the Eiffel Tower. It’s not important. Tell me what brought you up here.”

Tracy did not want to be on the ledge at that moment. Her stomach was still reeling. She launched a second volley of vomit to the sidewalk. Her sinuses were burning from bile and whiskey.

She dropped off the wall and slid to a sitting position alongside the silver Jetta. “It’s been a bad year.”

The fat man limped around to the front end of the Jetta. He stopped eight feet from her. “Tell me about it.”

Tracy swiped vomit from her chin with the sleeve of her shirt. “It’s just another woe-is-me sob story. Everyone has one.” She was suddenly very lucid and sober as if puking the booze in her stomach eight stories down had rid her of all the poison in her bloodstream. Maybe it was the adrenaline that was giving her clarity.

“I like woe-is-me stories,” said the man.

Duff. Tracy suddenly remembered his name.

“What kind of a name is Duff?”

“Irish.”

“No, I mean, what does it mean?”

“It means I’m mad at my dad. What’s your story?”

Tracy shook her head. She looked up at the night sky. In Chicago, only a few stars were visible high above them because of the light pollution. “I never knew my dad.”

“By choice?”

“My mom said he died in Iraq when she was pregnant with me. She never told his family.”

“Ah. By accident, then.”

“My mom worked her ass off to raise me and keep a roof over our heads. She only had a G.E.D., but she did it. I didn’t have much, but I never went hungry. And we used to laugh all the time. We had fun together.”

“Past tense, I see. I imagine she died, then? I’m going to guess she died in what? March? April at the latest?” Duff took another step toward her. He leaned against the front fender of the Jetta.

“March twenty-third. Breast cancer. How’d you know?”

“It would take that long for you to get the bottom of your proverbial barrel. Let me guess what’s next: Your fiancé was banging your best friend?”

Tracy’s eyes went wide. “Yes! How’d you know that?”

“Logical guess. Your mom’s death was traumatic. You probably retreated into yourself for a bit. Your best friend was around a lot trying to make you feel better. Your boyfriend was doing his best but felt powerless. You were too depressed to do anything for him, so he felt neglected. Things happen. I’ve seen it before.”

“Found out about their affair a few weeks ago when Danny called off the wedding. He got Jasmine pregnant. All my friends sided with them because I’ve been so depressed. They actually blamed me for the affair.”

Duff grimaced. “Ouch. That’s a kick in the ass.”

“I lost my mother, my fiancé, and my best friend inside of six months.”

“Let me guess—it gets worse?”

Tracy bit back a sob. “I found out last week that I can’t ever have a baby. Congenital infertility.”

Duff’s eyebrows raised on his forehead. “Wow. That’s…wow. I get it. All that shit happens to me, I’m probably chucking myself off a parking garage, too.”

“Why am I even here?”

“Because you were going to go out in a blaze of street pizza. Did you forget?”

Tracy rolled her eyes at Duff. “No, I meant, why am I here in the big picture sense? What’s the fucking point?”

“Of Life?”

“Of Life. Why do we bother? All my dreams got wrecked in six months. My mom never got to see me walk down the aisle in a white dress. I went from planning a wedding to single. I lost my best friend. I’ll never get to be a mom. What does it all mean if I can’t have the life I want?”

Duff shrugged. He slid down to a sitting position alongside the Jetta. It was a painful series of movements to get to that point. He moved like an old man despite being in his mid-forties. “You want to know a secret? Most of us never get the life we want. My parents wanted me to be Ph.D. in some sort of highfalutin degree program. I ended up being a dirt-poor private detective because it’s the only thing I’m good at. It’s nowhere near the life I wanted, but it’s the life I got.”

Tracy looked over to Duff with red-rimmed eyes. “What keeps you going?”

Duff thought about it for a moment. He weighed a few option in his head before he declared, “Pure fucking spite.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Duff gestured toward the sky. “Look at that. You get more than a few miles up and we die without oxygen tanks or pressurization. Get out of this atmosphere, and we die. Seventy-something percent of this big, stupid rock is covered with water. We can’t breathe in that water. A lot of this planet is freezing cold. We die without the proper clothing and shelter. A lot of the planet is burning hot. We die there without shade and water. The parts of the planet that do adequately support human life have things like tornados, flash floods, hurricanes, earthquakes, and volcanic eruptions.”

“What are you getting at?”

“I’m saying that since we evolved out of great primate ancestor as a minor surface annoyance to the planet, we’ve had to deal with the fact that Earth doesn’t want us here. It is constantly trying to kill us. Not only that, but we’re the only creature that understands that this grand failed experiment eventually ends. We have to live every day with the specter of death hanging over us and the knowledge that none of us truly knows what comes next. That’s a pretty heavy burden for a normal mind. That’s an even heavier burden for a mind that’s dealing with trauma. Believe me, lady, it never surprises me when someone chooses the easy road out. In fact, I’m surprised most of us don’t do it. This world is crazy.”

“Then why haven’t you?”

Duff looked around them. He shrugged. “Because it’s the only way I can flip middle fingers at the whole system. The system doesn’t want any of us here. The Earth is trying to kill us. The Universe is trying to kill us. We can’t live in the oceans. The atmosphere occasionally throws wind, arctic cold, and random bolts of electricity at us in an attempt to kill us, and we just keep going.” Duff raised his right arm to the sky and extended his middle finger at the dark blue-black heavens above them. “I’m still here because whatever runs this whole thing hasn’t figured out how to kill me yet. I keep living because by living, it means I’m outsmarting the big organism that continually tries to shuffle me off its mortal coil.”

Tracy swallowed hard. It felt like there was a stone in her throat. It burned when she swallowed. “I don’t think I can go on, though.”

“Why not?”

“Because I just feel like I can’t. I can’t stand to see one more day. I don’t know why.”

“If you don’t know, then you’ve got a mystery on your hands. You can’t quit life with a mystery to solve.”

Tracy bit back a sob that tried to escape. “Spoken like a true detective.”

“Spoken like a guy who has been where you are. Spoken like a guy who knows what you’re going through. I weighed it out. I did the math. Quitting Life is easy. For some people, maybe it’s the right thing to do. Emphasis on ‘maybe.’ Me? I want to piss Life off some more before I finally go. We get few enough precious spins around the Sun anyhow. It’ll be over before we know it. No need to end it early.”

There was a long silence between them. Tracy let tears slide down her cheeks.

“My ass hurts.” Duff listed to his right side and rubbed at his butt with his left hand.

This made Tracy laugh. It was a short, barking laugh but it was still a laugh. “Was I being stupid?”

“When you were rooting for the Cubs earlier? Absolutely.”

She smiled. “No, dummy. I mean just now.”

“There was a Superman comic some years ago where a girl was going to jump from a ledge. Superman told her if she honestly did not believe she would never again have another happy moment, then she should jump, and he would let her fall.”

“Did he let her fall?”

Duff shook his head. “She took his hand, and Sup’ got her the help she needed.”

“So, I need help?”

“We all need help.”

“Even you?”

Duff gave her a half-smile. “Especially me. I’m a fucking slow-motion train wreck.”

Tracy got to her feet and walked back to the ledge. Her legs were unsteady. She felt sick and dizzy. She looked down at the sidewalk far below. “If I want to jump, will you let me?”

Duff gestured at his bum ankle with his cane. “Look at me, lady. I’m half-crippled, obese, and slow. If you wanted to jump, you could be kissing pavement before I could get to my knees.” Duff made no move to get up. He laid his cane across his lap. “We are all creatures of free will. If you want to go, you’ll go. Maybe not now. Maybe not tomorrow. But, if you’re dead set on going, pardon the pun, no force on the planet could stop you.”

“Not even you?”

“Especially not me.”

Tracy looked back at the sidewalk. Her eyes drifted up to some of the high-rises around them. People were living in those buildings. They were watching TV or sleeping. They were raising families. They were raising pets. They were learning new languages, or learning how to play guitar, or playing a PlayStation game they played too many times before because it was a comforting escape from reality.

“Duff?”

Duff did not answer. He knew she knew he was right there.

“Duff, I think I want to go home.”

Duff said nothing.

Tracy turned around. The big man had somehow gotten up silently and was already limping away toward the elevator.

“Did you hear me? I said I want to go home.”

Duff stopped and turned to face her. “So go. Free will, remember. You’re a creature of choice, not habit.”

“But, you—”

Duff turned back toward the elevator. He kept going.

Tracy was confused. She started to walk after him.

“You’re wasting your time.” A voice from the door to the stairs stopped her cold. The bartender, the man they called Wheels, was standing in the doorway with two Chicago cops, a tall, Black man, and a shorter, stouter White woman.

Tracy’s jaw hung open. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough.” Wheels jutted his chin toward Duff. “You’re wasting your time with him.”

“Why? What? Where is he going?” Tracy was confused. “I thought he was concerned.”

“He was, in his own way. He wouldn’t have followed you if he wasn’t.” Wheels walked over to Tracy and took her by the arm. He walked her toward the stairs leading her gently.

“So, why did he leave?”

“Because he’s Duff.”

Tracy let herself be helped by the two police officers. The women took Tracy’s other arm. She spoke lowly to her, comforted her. The staircase was warmer than the top of the parking ramp. An ambulance came around the corner of the ramp and stopped at the staircase. Two EMTs got out. They had one of those silver foil thermal blankets and they wrapped it around Tracy while they helped her into the back of the unit. Tracy let them.

Wheels watched as the EMTs strapped her to the bed in the back of the truck. “Get better, okay?”

Tracy nodded. “Tell Duff I said thanks, will you?”

I will. He won’t care. But, I will.”

One EMT climbed into the back of the truck with Tracy. The other closed the doors and ran back to the driver’s seat. After a moment, the truck lurched forward and began the slow descent down the parking ramp.

Wheels watched from the top of the ramp until the truck was spat out the ramp’s exit. It drifted off into the night, red-and-white lights spinning on the roof rack, but no siren. In moments, it blended into the wash of lights and was gone.

A fat guy with a cane limped back to his apartment. He stopped at the taqueria on the first story of his building and got three carne asada tacos to go. He climbed the stairs to his apartment slowly, using his good leg to propel himself up each step and dragging his weak ankle after like a dead weight. He stopped to rest twice, and in those rest periods, a taco met its fate.

Duff keyed the door to his apartment and limped into his room. There was no bed in his room, only a plush recliner. Duff flopped into the chair and popped the footrest. He turned on the TV. A MASH rerun was on. It wasn’t one of his favorite episodes—it was the one where Hawkeye and B.J. pretend to be nice to Frank—but it would do.

The next morning, when his business partner, Abe, would come into the office, Abe would ask Duff, “What did you do last night?”

Duff would answer, “I watched MASH.”

Abe would ask, “Is that all?”

And Duff would answer, “Yep.”

--End--

If you liked this story, please check out the full-length novel THE SINGLE TWIN, available now on Amazon Kindle or at your favorite local independent bookstore.

https://www.amazon.com/Single-Twin-Abe-Duff-Mystery-ebook/dp/B0829D4F4L/

#mystery #suicide #short story #Abe & Duff #abeduff #TheSingleTwin #Sean Patrick Little #Sean Little

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dark-unimaginably-stupid-kids · 7 years

Text

No Kisses Allowed

Dusk Drabble

(If you’re following this account for Voltron, these are the original idiots you will most likely meet as side characters in the fic- I Feel Everything, JSYK.)

Not very reader friendly because this was basically a lazy self indulgent free-write to get some mostly fluffy Collin and Angel written because I miss them /not/ being the outlet for my misery. (I mean, Angel’s got plenty to sulk about but I definitely made shit waaaaay worse)

Also slightly fed by two posts on here- the one about “If they have to kiss to prove they love each other you’re not writing romance right” (But Idk. what is romance.) And the disappointment that is our not getting a gay Dumbledore as was PROMISED. Fuck this bro, if Dusk is ever published my babies are going to be as blatant about their love interests as they are right in this little fic.

And as usual I might continue this because I have no impulse control and just a ridiculous desire to write loads of crap lately.

MostlypostingthisforLisasoIdon’thavetocopypasteitintoskype,whoamIkiddinglmao.

The gang is eating shit above the cafe as usual, Collin and Angel are being weird and affectionate and trying not to make a big deal out of it. The others would too if they’d stop being weird.

They were loitering in Kale’s apartment tonight. Lucy and Amoretta had decided to try baking under Kale’s slightly critical supervision while Vincent had invited the guys up to show them his newest sims game.

Luneth had somehow gotten stuck with the controller, “This main character is kind of…rude? Why is he so mean to her?”

“Don’t you get it Luneth? The douchebag always gets the girl,” Collin laughed from his spot on the floor next to him.

Luneth rolled his eyes, “You would know, wouldn’t you?”

“You’re right, I would.”

Vincent wrapped an arm around both their shoulders, “Children, behave and play the romance novel game… so I can watch you cry.”

“Watch us cry?” Luneth asked, ever the sensible one. He then got distracted by the irony of the girls baking and quoted the dialogue on screen with a soft chuckle, “I sold my soul for a cupcake…”

Collin, ever the piece of shit, leaned into Vincent, “So when do the creepy poems start?”

Vincent waves him off, “Soon, shh, don’t spoil Luneth.”

“Wait! What creepy poems!?”

Angel rolled his eyes fondly from his position sprawled out on the loveseat. His legs dangled off the armrest and his head was back down against the seat cushion. Sometimes he really wondered why he bothered hanging out with these people.

He glanced at his friends, at Luneth’s growing panic, Vincent’s sly glee, Collin’s shit eating smirk, and breathed out through his nose, shutting is eyes.

Eh. Not today.

Half of Vincent’s glee seemed to flood out of him when he realized something though, “Hold on—Collin! Have you played this before?”

Collin shrugged before scooting back to lean against the loveseat on the side closer to Angel’s head.

“Nah, never played it. A girl back in the home town really wanted to show me a walk through once though. Her selling point was creepy poems.” His voice, may the world help him, made Angel’s insides flutter.

If he rolled over he could lean across the space between them and inhale Collin’s generic shampoo.

Thankfully a crash from the kitchen kept Angel from giving into that sort of thing. Lucy’s declaration of “Sorry!” and Kale’s pained groan nearly drowned out Luneth’s confusion.

“I thought this was supposed to be some cute fluffy romantic stuff. Why would there be creepy poems?”

Amoretta waltzed out of the kitchen covered in cake batter a tired expression on her face, “Alright guys. Luce and I are going home to shower so—”

Vincent moved to the couch so he could lean over it as he beamed at her, “together?”

“Yes together? What—” At the expression on Vincent’s face she groaned, “No, not that together—”

Lucy leaned her head out of the kitchen window, “A darn shame.”

Angel didn’t need to crane his neck to know Lucy and Vincent were probably grinning at each other.

“Lucy, darling, we should get married.”

“Not on your life Vince.”

“Good thing I’m dead.”

“Haa~” Lucy snorted and Amoretta went back into the Kitchen.

“Whatever guys, stop being weird. You’ll have to get your own snacks now.”

Collin leaned his head back against the couch cushion. Angel turned just his head to the side and slowly, carefully, cautiously slid the hand closest to him up the couch and toward the loose black curls now so close he could graze them with his fingertips.

“We live above a café, Ama.” Vincent deadpanned.

Kale’s voice sounded from the kitchen, immediately shooting down Vincent’s plan to raid the café by announcing that he wasn’t wasting anymore stock on them today. Vincent cried out in mock anguish.

“Dude, Natsuki is adorable.” Luneth mumbled absently, mashing A and reading quickly. “But they talk forever.”

Collin didn’t lift his head but he adjusted himself and somehow ended up with his hair covering Angel’s fingers in their inky black. Angel breathed deeply, letting those fingers tangle themselves in the strands just loosely enough that it would take a moment for Collin to catch on.

“Dude you would. But don’t go for her go for the childhood friend. I like that one,” he offered. Angel watched his jaw move as he spoke.

Luneth scoffed, “Of course you do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” It felt like Collin was about to lift his head but taking notice of the resistance in his hair he paused and decided to make himself comfortable again. Angel didn’t need to see the smile on his face to know it was there and for his chest to feel tighter.

“It’s cause she’s blond isn’t it? Small cute blond with a history.” Angel could hear him roll his eyes, “Honestly she gives me a bad feeling. She’s too cute. She’s clearly hiding something. Which probably makes her more your type huh? Sound like anyone we know?”

Collin waved him off while Angel attempted to ignore that whole range of conversation, his own blond hair falling into his face.

There was a very sudden very short lasting burst of negative energy from the kitchen and Vincent slid off the couch before setting up camp on the floor next to the coffee table. With the girls having taken their leave Vincent turned his attention back to the game and Luneth attempting to speed through the dialogue. His eyes did land on Angel for a moment, hand comfortably tangled in a very content looking vampire’s hair, but all he offered that image was a skeptic look.

“Oh. Yeah, no. You should totally go for Sayori,” Vincent grinned.

At this confirmation, Collin groaned, pushing his head further back, close enough Angel’s fingers could graze his scalp now. Angel turned onto his side completely then, folding one leg against the cushion and allowing the other to fall off the side by Collin’s arm. If he sat up he’d almost be using the couch for it’s intended purpose.

Instead, he curled around the back of Collin’s head, soft hair barely tickling his nose.

“What’s going to happen to Sayori Vincent?!” Collin had growled, but when Angel finished adjusting Collin seemed to stiffen just the slightest bit before a weight was placed on top of his boot. Angel couldn’t see it, but he was pretty certain Collin had just chosen to place his hand there, some semblance of acknowledging Angel’s closer proximity.

Angel could see Vincent’s face though as he passed Collin the same skeptic look from earlier before once again turning back to the game.

Luneth had noticed nothing yet and was still reading through mountains of dialogue he kept mumbling about taking too long.

Kale made his way out of the kitchen by the time Luneth got to pick the words for the first poem, “These words aren’t even creepy. This can’t be a creepy poem guys.”

Vincent shrugged, “You do you dude.”

“I’m going after Natsuki. She likes cute shit right?” Luneth asked the peanut gallery.

Collin bopped his free hand on the ground, “Go for Sayori!”

“We already know something awful happens to her I’m not going for Sayori.”

“Coward!”

Kale chuckled before climbing over the back of the three seater couch and laying down, his arms crossed over his chest and batter in his hair that he didn’t seem to care about, “Oh, yeah, I can see how Collin would like Sayori.”

“Shit’s gonna happen to her, isn’t it?”

“I thought this was supposed to be a cute happy romance game, Isn’t it?” Luneth shouted, clearly dismayed.

“Of course Lulu, go for Sayori.”

Luneth groaned and wen back to smashing A.

Collin tilted his head up towards Angel, “Wanna bet on whatever awful thing is going to befall her?”

With Collin’s bright green eyes on him like that Angel had to remind himself how to breathe.

“But I’d be cheating…” as he spoke the hand on his shoe traveled up, Collins fingers walking up the skin of his ankle and calf, on display today because he’d chosen to wear cargo shorts that morning.

Collin scoffed lightly but Luneth’s reaction was louder.

Though Angel had barely whispered his response Luneth dropped the controller.

“You know! You know what’s gonna happen!”

Then of course Luneth’s eyes finally landed on the display. His eyebrow quirked up. Collin went frigid and Angel felt the blush creeping into his face.

“W-well Vince isn’t doing a good job of hiding it…” Angel muttered, squeezing himself smaller in an effort to hide from Luneth’s judgmental eyes but this only managed to squeeze him closer around Collin, lips and nose now completely covered by his hair.

“You okay there, Bro?” Luneth’s voice was warning. He was clearly preparing himself to reach over and pull Collin away from him by the throat if need be.

In a slight panic Angel’s eyes darted over to Vincent and Kale who looked like they were trying to will Luneth not to make a big deal out of it. Of course, he didn’t get the memo.

Finally, Angel nodded meekly, “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Why wouldn’t he be?” Collin asked, his hand curled around Angels leg now despite his initial anxiety. Angel’s confirming he was alright with Collin’s attention must have made him braver.

Luneth narrowed his eyes at the vampire but relented.

“You let me know if you’re not, okay?”

“Again, Luneth, I’m totally okay.”

Vincent stood from his sport and walked the long way around the coffee table to the couch to throw himself on top of Kale who squawked indignantly. On the way there he casually nudged Luneth hard in the side and the werewolf did a poor job of hiding it.

Angel sighed again, before throwing caution to the wind and burrowing his face into the top of Collin’s head.

He could feel the other boy chuckle at that, his free hand going up behind both their heads to run his hand through Angel’s hair soothingly.

Angel moved the hand he wasn’t laying on to play with the surprisingly short hairs at the base of Collin’s neck, occasionally scratching at his skin sending sporadic little shudders through him.

Kale managed to dig himself out from under Vincent just enough to point broadly for the screen, “Luneth! The dokis await! Come on guys you’ve barely started.”

Luneth turned his attention away from his roommate and the boy who caused them both stress and looked at the screen. “But what if I don’t want to go for Sayori? What if I wanted to go for…I dunno, Monika?”

“Monika isn’t an option Luneth.”

“Well technically…” Angel started against Collin’s head.

Vincent quickly reached for his shoe and threw it at Angel’s couch. It was close enough to alarm the boy but nowhere near close enough to actually hit him.

Collin still hissed, “Yo! Watch it!”

Vincent ignored him, “Spoilers Blondie! Shut your face!”

Angel rolled his eyes but nodded, his nose brushing against Collin, “Yeah, yeah, sorry.”

He breathed, bypassing the shampoo and just getting a waft of Collin. And the idea of that made him dizzy. He shook his head and abruptly realized it looked like a nuzzle to everyone in the room. It certainly felt like one to Collin who made a very small noise that made Luneth’s ear quirk.

But no one said anything.

And yet it had officially gone too far for him.

He reluctantly pulled away from Collin, the vampire dropping the hand that had been trying in vain to sooth the other boys hair, and dropped his other leg so he was finally sitting correctly.

“Well, this has been fun all. But I think I’m gonna head home, head to bed, not watch Luneth cry.” He stretched and casually pulled his leg free from Collin as well. He had to force himself not to look at the boy’s face otherwise he’d probably lay back down.

“Kay, see ya’ Angel.” Kale said casually, trying to ease the tension.

Vincent made himself comfortable on top of Kale, “Your loss kid.” The way he said it, his eyes darting between Angel and Collin and his own pleasant position implied…

In more ways than one.

Luneth watched him curiously but only shrugged, “see you at home then.”

“Yeah, see you guys later.” He finished, getting up and patting his roommate on the head before letting himself out.

Then he was gone, the door shut behind him.

Luneth put the controller down and turned at the waist so he was facing Collin. Vincent propped himself up on an arm while Kale only had to stare passed him for the two of them to be doing the same.

It was quiet for a long moment before Collin groaned and threw himself face first into the ground.

Vincent rolled his eyes and Kale sighed, Luneth reached over and shoved him.

“Really?”

“Seriously?”

“Collin!”

“I know! Okay! I know!” Collin grumbled from the carpet.

“Why do you two have to be so weird about it? Why can’t you just. I don’t know, be like them?!” Luneth hissed, motioning towards Kale and Vincent. To emphasize this point Vincent leaned his cheek against Kale’s while the two continued to stare at Collin.

Collin raised his head, “Dude I don’t know, ask him! He’s the one who just— UGH. would it be weird if I ran down stairs and walked him home just—“

Luneth looked like he was gonna have an aneurysm, “GO!”

The vampire didn’t need to be told twice but thankfully thought better of running and simply teleported to the front door of the cafe in time for Angel to open said door and almost walk into him.

“Oh! Uhm, did I leave something upstairs?” Angel asked, fighting the flush on his cheeks with every fiber of his being.

Collin didn’t do as well of a job, “Ah- no, I just. Uhm. Wanted to walk you home?”

Angel blinked at him, “…why?”

Collin croaked. Angel raised a brow. Why did this boy always make everything so unbelievably difficult? They were standing a few feet away from the spot of their first and last kiss, the night they’d decided to at least try being friends. Angel knew exactly why, why did he have to be such a dick about it?!

“I just want to walk you home. I thought we established I like spending time with you?”

Angel lost to the flush that stained his face and quickly shut his eyes before turning his head away from Collin and walking forward. Of course, Mr. Evasive.

“O-kay then. Whatever I guess, walk me home.”

Collin breathed heavy through his nose before setting off after him. Perhaps he walked a little too close and when their hands moved maybe he put a little effort in to make sure they brushed, watching the flush on Angel’s face deepen.

They didn’t talk much, but exchanged a couple glances and quickly shaking heads as if they each knew what the other was thinking and were trying not to.

By the time they made it to the apartment building Angel was so focused on not thinking he almost tripped on his own feet.

Collin thought he was adorable.

He caught him by the wrist and called him clumsy to which Angel scoffed. Then, with more bravery than he had, Collin slipped his hand down Angel’s wrist to intertwine their fingers. Angel went stiff.

“Just trying to make sure you don’t eat it, you know.” Collin offered with a smile he hoped was endearing enough to let him get away with it.

Angel took three quick shallow breaths before shaking his head for the umpteenth time and forcing himself to relax. He returned Collin’s grip on his hand.

“Right.”

They started upstairs.

“Yeah.”

“I mean I wouldn’t have tripped if you—”

“If I?”

“….Never mind.”

Collin chuckled and leaned against the other boy’s arm, turning his head into Angel’s hair. He said his next words without thinking, “You smell nice.”

Angel’s flush disappeared and a flash of anger replaced it. Collin immediately had to back track.

“I mean! Good like pleasant, like I could wake up every morning to this smell— not like breakfast or anything to eat just I mean something comfortable and nice and LORD why do you do this to me..!” Collin, still refusing to relinquish Angel’s hand despite what the other boys wrath could have been like, raised his other hand to his face and groaned into it.

Then Angel laughed.

And just like that Collin melted.

“You’re literally going to be the death of me, you know that?” Collin offered, a light laugh of his own on his lips now.

Angel shrugged, his grasp on Collin’s hand tightened, “seems only fair.”

“Oh?”

“You give me life, you do, but you kill me too.” He stated flatly as they reached the landing for the third floor.

Collin had to remind himself to breathe, “did you really just say that?”

“Say what?”

“Angel, please.”

Now he’d gone and done it. He’d used his name. Angel’s eyes darkened, he pulled his hand out of Collin’s grasp and wandered down the hall. Collin wanted to yank his hair out. If Angel would just tell him what had happened, what was going on—

“You have the most uncanny ability of reminding me why I’m not allowed to kiss you right when I really want to.”

Lord have mercy.

“For the love of Grim, why did my saying your name wreck it?!” Collin flailed, his anger rising though he wasn’t oblivious. He knew it felt weird to say his name. He knew it felt just as awkward for Angel to say his name. He knew something about it was painful and nostalgic and misery inducing for Angel—

But he wanted to say his name, damn it.

He wanted Angel to say his.

He wanted—

Angel sighed in front of his apartment door, his hand on the knob, his face tilted downward. Collin stopped just beside him and quietly hoped by some miracle Angel might not slam that door in his face.

Finally, the blond released his hold on the door and turned around, offering Collin a soft small smile, “Sorry, I know it’s really not your fault…” He reached a hand up to twist a lock of Collin’s hair around his fingers, “I was just being a shit okay? Just. My own sulking over not being able to…”

Collin felt his heart hammer against his ribcage, he held Angel’s hand and pressed it, bent fingers and all, against his cheek, “Well I for one am not going to stop you.”

Angel rolled his eyes but flattened his fingers against Collin’s skin.

“Goodnight Collin.”

It sent a shudder through his body. He hoped he could memorize this moment. Angel pulled his hand away and let himself into his apartment. As he shut the door, quietly, thankfully no slamming, he pressed the hand that had been on Collin’s cheek to his lips.

Yup. Collin was going to die.

“You okay, dude?”

Collin almost jumped, glancing at Lucy who had her door cracked open, clearly having watched him walk her neighbor inside.

Collin bit his lip and looked from Angel’s shut door to Lucy who shrugged and pulled her own door open. She had a towel draped over her shoulders and her hair still looked a bit damp but otherwise she was presentable.

“Come on, I’ve got some orange juice, let’s talk about our hopeless love lives.”

At Collin’s ridiculous expression she scoffed and tugged him inside.

“My love life isn’t hopeless…! Is it…?”

#Dusk #writing #yes they're playing DDLC because I had a thought only I fucked up #cause I've only seen like one video of the game and assumed that was early on #and not after 6 hours of gameplay to lose all your saved files like wow wtf is this game lmao #collin #angel #gonna leave the tags here cause this really was just kinda #meh

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