#But taking the core struggle of not being taken seriously works pretty damn well for any girl but especially black girls AT ALL TIMES

[majoringinsarcasm]

People hating on a literal child because she doesn’t physically look like a character in a book who we only ever saw in concept art and fanart vs me who was kinda sad when I realized book Percy wasn’t black because the description of a young boy living in New York who’s close with his single mother parent who is constantly seen as stupid troublemaker by both peers and teachers and his moms awful boyfriend and who’s only friend is the only other Outcast (non white) classmate who’s only ally is the literature teacher who then he finds also has doubts about him felt very if not fully black then at least mixed coded.

But then I moved on and enjoyed the story for what it gave me, can some of these people say the same 🤔

[huntunderironskies]

infodump away, my good friend — 1) guilt for silas, 2) midnight for charlotte, and/or 3) hunt for leo

:^) Oh boy!

Silas

As you know extremely well, Silas is the embodiment of Catholic guilt. I am not exaggerating in the slightest that he's convinced he's damned. The fact that he died and is currently Schrodinger's Zombie is not helping. He does think that God has given him one final chance but the only way he's salvaging his life is by making some sort of incredibly grand sacrifice that nobody else could possibly do. He's not sure what it is, but he's sure that God is going to guide him to it.

Being that he's damned, it logically follows (at least in his own head) that he can't become more damned on the path to being not damned, and that's why this keeps involving him committing nonviolent crimes (he doesn't want to actually kill anyone because if he does, they might die without getting a chance to repent for anything they did wrong, which is bad.) That aside, he is exceptionally perfectionistic when it comes to his behavior, down to never swearing, but this is more trying to prove to God that he really genuinely means he wants to be saved and is willing to do whatever it takes.

The extreme tl;dr of how this all started is he got dragged into running some errands for a local crime syndicate when he was young and desperately trying to keep his family out of poverty. He was gullible enough he didn't completely understand what he was getting into until it was too late and they didn't take him trying to do the right thing and back out well.

They didn't expect him to come back, of course. :V

Charlotte

I'm not going to dance around the issue, Charlotte has borderline personality disorder. So the questions around what her anxieties et al are is...a lot, and she does in fact tend to sleep pretty poorly because she's in a near-constant state of agitation despite not looking like it. This can be more "positive" in the sense of her hitting a grandiose phase where she's busy with working and plotting, or negative in the sense she's collapsed into a self-loathing lump.

Charlotte is exceptionally concerned with coming across as sensible, no-nonsense, and generally someone who both is taken seriously but also is the kind of person you aren't afraid to approach with your problems. There's some element of brutal practicality to this, because she knows that knowing everyone else's dirty secrets is worth its weight in gold and also she does kind of deal in acting as a ringleader for a third-party whistleblower who can silently release information about social parties (whether they be corporations, politicians, or anything else) who would otherwise be too dangerous to speak openly against for a single person.

She really, really, really, really is invested in this idea of herself as a clever above-it-all social manipulator. On some level, she expects everyone to be completely transactional in their relationships with her

Unfortunately, she is very aware that she has actual emotions and that they're pretty difficult to control. She hates the general fact that there is a seething core of anger, fear, and frustration that's constantly boiling beneath the surface because it's so contrary to what she wants to think of herself as being like and because she knows people won't like it if they see it. Like a lot of people with "quiet" borderline, she tries to bury her emotions until she has an implosive episode. She's still incredibly petty and vengeful when she feels slighted and fantasizing about revenge is something she's very prone to do.

(Side note, she's a lot easier to manipulate than she wants to believe she is and she's very easily won over by flattery, it's not a coincidence that her two most consistent partners are very effusive in their affection, which is good because she needs near-constant reassurance but struggles with actually asking for it, so someone who's going to show it without her actively prompting it helps. A lot.)

...oh, and she can't have nightmares. Like, literally. It's impossible. So that doesn't really keep her from sleeping but everything else does.

Leo

So. Leo's dad is a piece of work. Here's his theme song. Anyway, they aren't outright trying to kill each other but they're both strongly considering it.

Leo's dad (hence, Elijah) works for a subsidiary of Cheiron Corp called Maranatha and is currently Maranatha's CEO, a position he inherited from his father/Leo's grandfather. Maranatha takes a more biblical approach to Cheiron's usage of monster parts-- specifically, they believe that humans were meant to inherit the Earth and are allowed to have full dominion over what's in it. Monsters are trying to take that birthright from them...and if humans are allowed to take all resources of the world that God gave to them, it's only right that they take power from monsters in order to ensure the world remains in their hands.

(EXTREME oversimplification here but we'll be here all day if I give the full theological details, it's essentially a Christian dominionist worldview.)

Leo grew up extremely sheltered (technically relevant: they're DFAB, I always assumed this was implicitly obvious but it seemed like it flew over the heads of a lot of people in the game they were in? I guess you need an understanding of typical gender role dynamics within American evangelical subcultures) and their future was always kind of decided for them. They never knew what kind of wetwork their dad was involved in until it was too late.

Maranatha had developed a new, highly experimental procedure and they needed a host for what they believed was a new and heretoforth unseen relic, a part of God's body itself. If you ask Elijah Giles, he'd prayed long and hard on the matter, and giving up his eldest child was no easy feat. Men are usually the one on the front lines, anyone else getting the chance to take up the sword of judgement is rare indeed. Still, he was sure he'd made the right choice. Leo was devout, pure, the perfect servant of God. They'd earned it in a sense, even if they were an unconventional choice.

Still, it's a little suspicious he didn't choose his trueborn son over his daughters when they'd tried so hard for so long to have a proper heir, isn't it? Especially given how dangerous it'd have been.

The procedure failed in a way that absolutely nobody expected when the Dark Mother pulled the metaphysical equivalent of "I licked it, it's mine now" which is why Leo is both a Stigmatic and a Beast. They did not have a good time and it's going to be everyone else's problem, especially Maranatha. Leo's been hunting them down with single-minded dedication and their secondary focus is on the God-Machine itself, which they have internalized an extremely odd theology around (I think I've mentioned the Church of the Night Angel on this blog before, so...they are an extremely devout member of it to the point that more senior members have been desperately trying to keep a metaphorical leash on them so they don't do something stupid in the pursuit of the Church's goals.)

Leo is...less paranoid than you'd expect because they have absolute faith in the Dark Mother to lead them down the right path. They are absolutely desperate to trust people, in fact, and while they can be a bit wary of others at first they try their best to be friendly, the problem is that their "friendly" is deeply offputting for reasons that are very complicated to explain but long story short they are incredibly socially awkward and only part of that is from being so isolated they only had extended contact with their family and a few other people within the Maranatha inner circle until they were ten.

[bluebellhairpin]

The Silence In Between

Jaeger Pilot!Levi Ackerman X Engineer!Reader

Part One

A/N: I know what I said about the writing thing, but this just happened over time and I finally finished it. - Nemo 

Warning(s): Injuries. Character Death. *sighs* Drfiting. 

Summary: 

Listening to: ‘When We Were Young’ by Take That - ‘We were drawn to whoever could keep us together and bound by the heavens above’ 

Series Masterlist 

Masterlist 

The Drift wasn’t something to be taken lightly. As years passed, Levi was the one person who knew about that the most. 

From his first three-pilot Jaeger, to the one he piloted with Hange - and everything in between - he’d been through so many co-pilots that he used to think his time was coming soon. It had to be. He was too tired for it to not be. 

It had been a week since he sparred with (y/n), and things were going as smoothly between the two as it had before the intense training session. But it still didn’t explain the weird feeling in his chest that he kept denying. And the fact that he didn’t really feel like dying in a Jaeger cockpit anymore. 

Then, for the first time since the early-morning beating, he suited up to go fight a Kaiju. Their tech gave them the ‘OK’ that they’d drifted properly, and Hange was already sending Levi looks from his right. 

“You and the engineer, huh?” 

“Shut up.” He said, finishing up prepping their Jaeger to be dropped in the ocean. He caught Hange’s eyes, seeing them with a no-good glint in them. 

“I’m not in your head as much as you are, but I sure as hell could see it coming.” They laughed. “You’re so dense.” 

“Hange, I-”

“- Ackerman. Zoe.” Erwin said, his ever-prominent ‘I’m the Marshall’ tone cutting Levi off before he could finish his threat. “You’ll be lifted off-base in T minus 3 minuets. You’ll be dropped in the Philippine sea. You’ll be fighting a category III Kaiju, dubbed by our Loccent Officer here as Anago -”

“- Nice name -” 

“- Hange. Please.” 

“Sorry.”

“As I was saying,” Levi could practically hear Erwin rolling his eyes. “It’s a category III Kaiju. It’s not something you haven’t fought before, but our sensors are picking up that it’s still pretty big. And moving fast. We’ll have Warrior Titan and her pilots on standby the moment things start looking like they’re moving downhill. It’s too early in the morning to have anyone die.”

Levi wondered if there was any time for anyone to die. 

By the time Levi got back to the Tokyo Shatterdome it was past noon. He was too tired to function properly. His eyes kept drooping, and his legs felt wobbly. 

He hadn’t felt like that since the day Ewrin lost his arm. 

Or when Furlan and Isabel died. 

These things kept happening. Bad things. And it was never to him. Always to his co-pilots. He hated it. With every fiber of his being he wished he could go back and save them. To have been able to keep Furlan and Isabel alive. To have been able to save Erwin from losing his arm. To have moved that much faster to save Hange.

Sure, Hange was laying across from him in the medbay, but they might’ve as well died. 

Looking back, one of the worst things about having Erwin ripped from the jaeger cockpit next to him wasn’t the fact he was sure Erwin had died - no, it was finding out he was alive and having to wait for if Erwin would even wake up. Now he was doing it all over again.

After spending the rest of his day with Hange Levi was ushered out of the medbay for the doctors to do their checks. He took the time he wasn’t allowed by Hange’s side to go to the mess hall to pretend to get something to eat. He was vaguely aware of what time it was, but when he got there he was a little surprised to find it was empty. 

He was even more surprised when - after he’d made himself comfortable at one of the many tables, nursing a mug of untouched tea - you stumbled in, looking as worse for wear as he was. 

Your tech overalls were tied haphazardly around your waist, your hair was messier than usual, and there were shiny grease stains all over your hands, forearms and tank top. If he squinted he thought he could see some on your cheek too. But your appearance wasn’t entirely unusual. 

He still liked it - only because it was normal. No other reason. 

What was unusual was that you were pouring hot, tar-like coffee from it’s urn into your bowl instead of the evening’s soup - of which was located on the other end of the room. You were tired. Very tired. Levi wondered what the hell you were working on to get you so exhausted. 

He watched you turn from the urn, still unaware of your ‘not-soup’ situation, and somehow navigate to take a seat on the table next to his. You sat right across from him, one table over, and still hadn’t noticed him staring at you yet. 

He also watched you raise your full spoon to your mouth. He had thought about saying something. But the thought of your reaction also crossed his mind, and he decided to go with staying quiet instead. 

Unfortunately the only reaction he got was you looking very confused. 

“It’s coffee you dumbass.” Your head shot up, meeting his eyes almost instantly. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, I know that now. Dumbass.” you said, dropping the spoon to simply drink straight out of the bowl French-style. “How’s Hange going?” You asked, voice much quieter, and much more gentle than you’d ever used with him before.

“Hange -” he started, letting out a sigh as he ran a hand through his hair, “- Hange is okay. At least from what everyone keeps saying.” 

“Good.” you hummed, “And you?”

“What about me?” He asked, bringing his mug up to his lips to take a long and unsatisfyingly cold mouthful of tea. He set the cup aside, scowling at it. 

“I’ve never piloted a real Jaeger before, Ackerman, but I do know that when things like this happen to one of the pilots, they actually happen to both.” He looked over at you, squinting. “So how are you?”

He didn’t think he’d been asked that in a while.

“What,” Levi said, “did you just say?” 

Erwin sighed. He knew this was coming, Levi could tell he did because he sighed. Erwin moved, his chair squeaking across the floor of his office as he lent forwards to address Levi more seriously. 

“You and I both know Hange won’t do well in a Jaeger anymore.” Erwin said. “As much as you know I’d hate to say it, you should seriously consider the possibility of finding a new co-pilot.” 

“I’d rather not.”

“I know.”

“I’d rather retire.”

“I know.”

“Why can’t I retire?” Levi asked. He knew the answer to that too. He just wanted to finally hear it. 

“You’re too big of an asset to just,” Erwin gestured, “let go. Your knowledge of Kajiu’s and skill in a Jaeger is unparalleled. Only Miche and Nanaba come close to your level and they’re -”

“- on maternity leave. I know -” 

“- so having you out of commission right now isn’t something my higher-ups are keen on.”

A couple beats past. Erwin and Levi kept looking at each other. They both also knew the solution to this new problem - finding Levi a new partner. 

“We need to bring in the engineer.”

“Don’t.”

“We have no choice, Levi.” Erwin squinted at Levi. “You weren’t so defensive the other times.” 

When Isabel and Furlan were replaced with Erwin. When Erwin was replaced with Hange. It was true, Levi barely battered an eyelid at them all being replaced - mainly because he did know them all fairly well before they joined him in the drift. They were all originally from the same batch of cadets. With you, however, it was a little different. 

Sure, he did know you - for a couple years now - but he also knew that your connection ran deeper than just being ‘drift compatible’. That scared him.

“I’m tired, Erwin.” Levi lied. “I just want it to be over.” 

“We all do, Levi.”

“Huh.” 

Levi raised his eyes at you.

“Is that all you have to say?” he said, “‘Huh’?” You quickly caught yourself, wiping your dirty fingers across your jumpsuit, and shaking our head.

“No, no, no, sorry,” you stuttered, “I just - it’s only just kicking in.”

He asked you to be his co-pilot. 

Hange had woken up yesterday afternoon, and there was nothing anyone could do about the lack of an eyeball they were now suffering from. They were no-longer fit to pilot the left hemisphere, seeing as the injury would be a hindrance. But you as a replacement for the dominant side of a Jaeger? 

“I can’t do that.”

Levi blinked at you.

“What?’ 

“I can’t pilot a Jaeger, Ackerman.” you said, shaking your head again. “Not one of such high of a reputation at least. I -”You were cut off by Levi grabbing your arm, yanking you away from the crew working on the Warrior Titan, and into a very small, and barely lit space.

That bastard pulled you into a supply closet. 

“Listen brat, and you better listen pretty damn well -” he said, his grip still tight on your arms, “- you train like a pilot. You want to be a Ranger, and this is your chance. In this world you make decisions - your choice is either one you agree with, or you regret. Make sure you don’t regret a single thing.” 

His words were dead serious, and you were planning on taking them seriously. But his eyes - they were saying something you couldn’t understand. Become a Ranger, live life to the fullest, regret nothing. Stay an engineer, stay safe, regret nothing. He was telling you to say yes, and to say no, at the same time. 

And he was also very, very, very close to you right now. And there was too little room inside that room. 

So you ran away.

Not even a few hours later, Marshall Erwin himself came to find you - and you made sure to put yourself somewhere where even the other engineers would struggle to find you. But he found you anyway - crammed in the space between a Jaeger’s breastplates and it’s reactor core.

Bastard.

“Ranger Ackerman said you didn’t respond too well to his offer.” he said. You sighed, dropping your tool in your lap. “Why did you run?” 

“I don’t really know.” You wiped your forehead with your arm, and then rested your hands on your hips as you looked up at him. He looked back at you, steely eyes softening, and he took a moment to sit down with you. 

“You don’t have to know, so I’ll rephrase.” he said, “Does it not feel wrong?” 

“No! God, no.” you said quickly, waving a hand out at him. “No it feels right. It’s just, it’s scary. The idea of going into that cockpit with him when he’s had so many others go through his brain like that. You, and Hange, as well as the other two he started with - that’s already more people than any other pilot in our history. I…”

“You don’t know if you can handle it.” Erwin finished. He stood, smoothing out his clothes and brushing off the dirt, then looked down at where you still sat. “If it helped ease your mind, he wouldn’t have talked to you about it at all if he didn’t think you could do it.”

“They’re not coming.”

“They have to.”

“They won’t.”

“Jeezus Levi, have some faith. I know the new copilot thing isn’t something you want to do but try to not act like you’ll miss me in your head that much.” He almost liked the idea of Hange being back in the med bay rather than watching from up in coms with Moblit. 

But deep, deep, deep inside, he was glad that Hange was awake now. 

After Erwin went to talk to you, he went back to Levi and they spoke a little more. Levi agreed to being nice on your first day. But inside he was adding if you even showed up. 

“Better quit daydreaming Ackerman, or I’ll start piloting this hunk without you.” 

He swiveled his head, turning to the left to see you standing there waiting to get ‘locked’ into place. Unfortunately, you looked really good in the drivesuit, and that was unfortunate only because you would know he thought that in, like, five minutes. 

You’d know everything in, like, five minutes. 

“You’d better be ready for this.” he said, looking over at you with an intensity only an Ackerman could pull off. “Don’t make me look like a fool.” A smile slowly creeped onto your face. 

“You know, technically I’m in charge. You should stop bossing me around.”

“Oh damn -” Hange’s voice cut through your coms, “- I like this one Levi.” 

“Shut up Hange.”

You’d prepared yourself for the drift. 

Erwin had given you a file the night before, barely an hour after you went to him and said you’d do it. It was a lot of paperwork, and a surprisingly vague amount of information. 

But was it enough?

Levi had been through hell and back, and now you’d get a front-row seat to all of it. But at least you were a little prepared. 

You guessed, also, that Erwin gave Levi some info on you too. Not that there was a lot of it. Or any of it. Not compared to what was in his head anyway. 

“Initiating the neural handshake in three… two… one…” 

A jolt went down your spine, through your arms, to your fingers and down to your toes. Memories flashed behind your closed eyes, blurry and rushed. 

Playing outside with your father. 

Reading with your sister. 

The first kaiju reached the news. 

Not being comparable with anyone in training. 

Sparring with Levi a few days ago. 

You sucking in a deep breath. No chasing the rabbit. Let the memories go. Then Levi’s memories hit. 

Growing up with his mother and uncle. 

Kaijus. 

Living at the shatterdomes.

Losing his friends. Again. And Again. 

You stumbled where you stood, opening your eyes and looking over at Levi. He was already looking at you, asking if you were okay without speaking. You nodded, letting out a shaky laugh as you smiled. 

“This is amazing.” you gasped. 

“I know.” he said, but you heard a different reply. ‘Just like you.’ 

You heard a lot, felt more too. The overwhelming emotions you got from drifting with Levi was more than you expected. He felt more than he let on. 

“How about taking her out for a run?” You offered, distracting yourself from overthinking about everything too much with the buttons and screens around you.

“What do you think Levi?” Erwin asked. 

“You ought to know what I think Smith. They wouldn’t have offered otherwise.” 

“Copy that Ranger,” Erwin scoffed, “We’ll get you ready to go out.” 

A beat passed, you side-eyed Levi, letting a giggle slip. He huffed beside you, and the jaeger weight shifted with you as you both lent your weight on a different foot. 

“What now?” 

“You like how my shoulders look in my tank top, huh?”

“You like staring at my ass so we’re even.” 

Series Taglist: @tanyeonn​ 

Series Taglist is Open! 

[shimmershae]

My thoughts on Episode 7--Promises Broken

Placed behind a cut for those of you that would rather escape my babbling, lol.  You’re welcome.  

The episode opens with Maggie, Elijah, Father Gabe, and Negan.  

Right away I can’t help feeling disappointed because the emotional core of last episode (Kelly and Connie’s reunion and the aftermath) seems like it’s being ignored and punted further down the road so we can waste another hour getting piece meal progress on the Reaper front, but I’m going to try to push my misgivings away and enjoy this episode for what it is, so.  

“Daryl just told us to go home.”  

And save your hides and keep the rest of the community safe?  I can’t argue that Negan might have an actual point here, lol.  But Maggie sure can.  

Not gonna lie.  When Negan came back with “I think he was being subtle. He said they were armed with lookouts” I had to LOL.  

“We will never be even.”  I mean.  Maggie been frustrating me with her stubbornness in this suicide mission, true.  But she right.  They will never, ever be even.  

“Ya’ll know Blackbeard, too?”  I admit it.  I laughed.  A little.  

Okay.  I don’t know if this bodes well for this episode or not, but the cold opening in this episode?  Was the most underwhelming cold open of this season.  

At least the opening credits still give me that old familiar rush of the heyday of TWD.  

Fake Stephanie and Eugene are on Walker clean up duty.  Hmm.  I think I’m going to refer to Fake Stephanie as Fifi until she gets a real name for brevity’s sake.  

Fifi handles herself surprisingly well with the Walkers.  Is she one of Mercer’s stormtroopers working undercover maybe?  

Somehow I doubt it’s true that our friends can trust “Lance” but whatever, lol.  

I hate to admit it but I’m already kind of bored with this episode.  We’re barely over 6 minutes in.  

I didn’t recognize Princess without her fluffy pink coat!  

Zeke is definitely struggling.  

I do like that these two  have been paired up.  They have taken to each other quickly and already have a good rapport.  There’s something endearing about their scenes together.  

“Never been afraid of hard work.  Kinda anti-friends who die from stubbornness.”  Have I mentioned lately how much I love Princess?  Because I really, really do.  

So it’s been days.  Has it been days that Maggie and Negan and Co. have been outrunning the Reapers?  I’m talking since they left the safe house.  Does that mean that it’s also been days since Kelly and Connie’s reunion?  This timeline is so slow and yet they keep telling us it’s been days and making me think we’ve been missing time.  Like I can’t even.  

You know Carol’s “Pookie is in danger” senses have to be big-time tingling by now if it’s been DAYS.  

Also?  Alden almost certainly has to be dead.  

But I digress.  They obviously don’t want us getting hung up on the apparent time warp between ASZ, Meridian, and the Commonwealth.  It’s like the Bermuda Triangle of the ZA.  

“A person with your pedigree...”  

Okay then.  Commonwealth is full of uppity assholes.  Good to know.  

Yumiko looks classy!  I say that in my best Princess voice, lol.  

Well.  At least they’ve given Daryl Dog back.  Has Dog come to his senses though?  That is the question.  

Daryl sharing a smoke with the enemy to gain some intel.  Or maybe just the keys to food storage.  

So.  Another redshirt (Elijah’s sister’s friend) we don’t know bites the dust.  Meh.  Including that tidbit in the trailer was purposefully misleading, lol.  Not that I want people to die, but still.  

“But the one?  He’s mine.”  Let’s take bets.  Was it Carver Elijah has a beef with because it just seems like it was.  Could also be that his name is the only one I know, lol.  

Where is Maggie sending our hobbled Father G?  

“I kept my mask for practical and sentimental reasons.”  Negan?  You almost had me.  He really can’t help his inherent asshole-ishness can he?  

But seriously.  Yuck at what they about to do because I assume Alpha and Co. at least cured the nasty skins.  

I wish I could say I give a damn that they’re attempting to give Leah some more likeable layers but it’s a cheap cheat so naw.  

There’s that damn river that symbolizes the great divide between Daryl and his love and his family.  At least it’s pretty.  

I’m with Daryl.  Is Pope just looking to cleanse the earth of those he doesn’t feel belong or what?  Wheedle the truth out of her, Daryl.  

“You never needed anyone to make you strong.”  

Think our guy has ever said this to his real girl?  

It’s kinda funny that the Whisperer flunkie is now the herding Whisperer tutor.  

Is that the Reaper’s version of a priest?  Sorry.  I swear.  I’ve been trying to pay attention during their scenes.  But my mind wanders because it feels like Woodbury and the Sanctuary all over again.  The Whisperers at least were elevated by Samantha Morton, Ryan Hurst, Thora Birch, and yes, Jeffrey Dean Morgan.  Like I love Norman Reedus and the character he’s crafted in Daryl but he’s not enough to have me enthralled with Leah and these dudes.  I don’t care if they were all Calendar pinups before the ZA.  

Truly.  A+ casting with Yumiko’s brother.  

Yeah.  Something’s definitely fishy about Tomi’s reluctance to go back to his old life in the Commonwealth, but the desire for a slower, less stressful existence is definitely relatable so I’m not going to hold that part against him at all.  

What did Maggie say after Elijah asked if Negan had changed?  Because I replayed it a handful of times and still don’t know.  

This Lancy Hornsby dude reeks of slimy politician.  

Too much one on one Daryl and Leah in this episode.  Without any kind of chemistry at least these two drag each other and their parts of the episode down.  Leah’s character is a fail for me and it has nothing to do with shipping reasons.  She’s just not believable or authentic to her role as a mercenary.  

“If I could do it all over again, I’d have killed every single one of you.”  Damn.  Well.  He’s being true to himself, I guess.  Unapologetically Negan.  

Again.  I can’t say Negan’s wrong exactly but shit does he deliver some uncomfortable truths.  

Princess’s childlike delight over treats is <3.  

Look at Eugene running toward danger!  OG Eugene would never.  Abe would be so proud.  

Eugene and Fifi actually work pretty good together but it all feels so staged.  I feel sorry for our guy.  

“This guy was being, well, an asshole.”  LMAO @ Josh’s delivery. The asshole definitely deserved that punch and his date deserved to be eaten.  

Real Stephanie is so pretty.  

Aww.  She’s concerned about Eugene.  

Oh shit.  Eugene punched Pamela Milton’s little entitled prick of a son.  This feels like the ASZ Monroes all over again.  Sorry.  I can’t remember their names.  

Poor Eugene.  Have I said that already?  

Is this Lance Hornsby guy the lesser of two evils or...”  

All the chances you’ve gotten, hmm?  Seems to me they’ve been set up for some failure too, though.  

Maggie and Negan leading a herd where?  Meridian?  

That poor woman.  Just wanting her family safe and spared of seeing her meet her maker.  

f

So Leah’s not completely cold.  Okay.  Doesn’t mean she’s able to be saved though.  

At this point, Kang is just  yanking Daryl’s chain and ours in the process.  

Even hidden behind that skin mask, Elijah made me tear up when he saw his sister.  

No previews?  What a copout.  

Not Kang correlating Maggie and Negan to child and coach, lol.  

The narrative they keep pushing about the villains having families and FEELINGS doesn’t change much for me, Angela.  Gracie was the only innocent in that outpost Team Family attacked.  I’m not saying they should have done it but stop trying to make the bad guys sympathetic.  It isn’t earned.  

Interesting how she mentions Gabe is trying so very hard to hold onto faith.  

If Leah’s the frog boiling in that pot?  They better be serving frog legs to the starving community she’s hunting.  Just saying.  

Overall impression of this episode?  

It was boring.  No seriously.  

I wish I could say I liked it better but it was just meh.  I can’t even muster up any words because I just feel blah about it and that’s not a good feeling to have going into the first final (mid?  half?  tri?  I don’t know what to call it) episode of the season.  

Withholding the previews further adds to the doldrums because what is there to actually be excited about here after that episode?  At least try to pique our interest, Angela.  

[willownoir1112]

Hiya everyone! Wyn here with today's White Rose Week 2021 entry, which is flirting! Now, today features a genderbent Weiss in honor of my friend CelestialPrincess, who could not participate due to scheduling conflicts, as well as for Akirou 02, who wrote one of my all time favorite fics, They're Yours Too! I hope everyone enjoys, and I will see you tomorrow with another day!

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Flirting

Ruby Rose can feel her eye twitching as the drunk white haired wolf Faunus man continues his verbal assault on all four of her tender, not innocent in the least, but still offended ear drums. It wouldn't be so bad if he was at least good at it, but even she's starting to think that it's impossible.

"Sho, you should gib me a chance, cause I'm… ummm…"

She's pretty sure he's trying to flirt. She's actually almost sure he's trying to flirt, and for the life of her she doesn't understand why! She's nothing special, just another non descript rabbit faunus stuck on an overnight layover in Mantle while trying to get home to Vale. Not for the first time since she left on this trip, she wishes she hadn't agreed to come to Atlas to meet James Ironwood on behalf of the Rose Weapons Corporation.

She especially despises being the Heiress of the company her mother, a successful huntress, founded after her retirement.

"I got it!" He grins drunkenly at her as he pounds a fist into his hand. "I'm not a dolt!"

She couldn't help it. She couldn't stop her hand from colliding with her face, then slowly dragging it's way down her fair skin in her… She's honestly not sure if it's because she's exasperated, or because her older half brother Xiang would be crying at how badly this guy can flirt. "So I should leave with you because you're not a dolt?" She asks, getting an enthusiastic nod of the head in reply.

"Not only am I not a dolt, but I'm also a virgin!" He declares in his eagerness, a goofy smile on his face. One that grows as he takes another sip of his drink, what appears to be a vodka on the rocks by the look and smell of it. And she's convinced he's had at least two too many.

"Look, I'm flattered that you want to lose your v-card to me, but I have to pass." She replies calmly, feeling her heart break a bit at the sad puppy look that comes across his face. "I'm only here for the night."

"See?" He declares as his drunken smile returns in force. "You can make a man of me, then you'll never see me again! It's a win-win!"

"Uh huh." She mumbles as she motions for the bartender to top off her own wine glass. If she's going to keep listening to this, then she might as well as go ahead and get buzzed. "What's your name?" She asks, deciding she needs to give the source of her irritation a proper name other than Drunken Wolf Idiot.

"It's Eis, and did you know you have really pretty eyes?" He adds the last wistfully as he stares into them, making her stare into his own sky blues. She has to admit, he has gorgeous eyes, and after taking a liberal sip of her wine, she has to admit he's not too bad looking. Now if only he could actually flirt.

"You're not the first person to tell me that, Eis." She replies as she offers him her hand. "I'm…" Before she can introduce herself, a second drunk with dark skin and wearing a fedora pushes him into her, making her spill her wine as well as his vodka onto her dress. "Awwww, oatmeal cookies!" She swears as she grabs a napkin and tries desperately to clean herself off.

"Hey, Eis? There you go buddy!" Fedora cries out before he begins to cackle drunkenly.

"Flynt, you dolt!" The wolf named Eis roars as he quickly turns and shoves him away. Meanwhile, giving up on getting herself cleaned up, Ruby finally makes a bad decision and simply motions for a refill. If she has to keep dealing with this crap, then she's going to be good and drunk. Besides, all her clothes are back at the airship port, which means she's going to have to find a twenty four hour laundry or something to wash said clothes while praying she doesn't get arrested for being naked in public.

So, as her Mama Raven would say, time to load up on liquid courage and then wrestle the Ursa to get your weapon back.

"Damn, I'm so sorry." Eis murmurs as he turns back around and frowns. She's pretty sure she's a mess. She can feel her soaked bra starting to stick to her skin, as well as her skirt sticking to her bare…

She really doesn't want to know if a certain part of her anatomy can get independently drunk as well. It's a constant struggle to make sure it doesn't get her into trouble as it is.

"Look, it's fine. Can you just tell me where I can go to clean up?" She asks in irritation as she grabs at the bottle of red wine and simply tilts it up, spilling the contents into her mouth and down her throat in a fashion that would have her brother and the rest of her friends cheering her on. Not for the first time, she wishes she hadn't had quite as much fun at Beacon as she did, and had taken her studies and training a bit more seriously.

Nodding, he offers her an arm. "You can get cleaned up at my place." He replies quietly, obviously a bit sobered up. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it." She replies firmly as she glares at him. "And… thanks." She adds the last as her gaze softens. Offering the bartender her credit card, she makes sure he bills her for one more bottle of wine. If she has to keep listening to Eis's flirting, she definitely needs the liquid courage the fermented beverage provides.

Especially since he really is cute, and she's now tempted to lose her own virginity to him as well...

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"Wow, nice place." Ruby admits as the cab pulls up to the curb of a multi level apartment complex in downtown Atlas. She has to admit, he's been a polite gentleman during the entire trip, even trying to ignore the fact that her skirt has been slowly riding up her bare bottom to reveal it as well as her constantly wagging cotton tail.

"I live here with my twin sister." He replies as he struggles to look everywhere but at her exposed rear, while she takes another deep pull of the wine bottle still in her hand. "She works for the family company, while I am a huntsman."

This gets her attention. Her dream was always to follow in her mother's footsteps, but an accident when she was on a hunt left her with permanent nerve damage to her legs. Nothing painful, but still unable to use her semblance to its full effectiveness. "I was a licensed Huntress in Vale." She admits to him quietly as he pays the driver and gets out, offering her a hand out next. "Got hurt on a hunt, and had to quit."

He smiles sadly at her as she struggles to lower her skirt back down on her bottom. "My sister lost her sword arm during her last hunt. Her body rejected the prosthesis."

"Damn." She mutters before finishing the bottle, while struggling to stay upright on legs that are quickly refusing to continue to function. But she can't help but to squeak as she suddenly gets scoop up into surprisingly powerful arms, a smiling Eis looking at her.

"See? I knew I would sweep you off your feet before the night was out." He declares as he walks towards the door, the doorman nodding as he opens it for them.

"Finally! You learned how to flirt!" She declares with a giggle as she cuddles into his chest, enjoying the movement of powerful muscles obviously hidden underneath his dress shirt.

She almost wants to see them…

"I admit, there was more liquid courage pumping through my veins than blood at the time." He replies as he carries her through the lobby and towards the elevators. "But, I do believe we have traded places now."

"Ayup. And how can a beefcake like you still be single?!" She blinks as he chuckles while shaking his head.

"Willow, my twin, doesn't help matters there." He replies as the doors open and he steps in. "She firmly believes very few women are good for me."

"She's just being a good sister then." Fuck, he smells really good. And his wolf ears are so freaking cute! "My older brother's an asshole. But you? You're so cute I could almost eat you up like a tasty snack!"

Eis chuckles as he continues to hold her securely in his arms. "And you claim I'm bad at flirting?" He asks as he looks at her with those sky blues she's rapidly getting lost in.

"I'm drunk. I'm allowed to be bad at it." She declares with a wink. And then her sensitive nose catches the scent of spoiling wine, making her frown. "I stink."

"It's not that… WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU DOLT?!" She can't help but giggle as she stops unbuttoning her blouse to look at him.

"I'm stinky." Is her simple response before she returns to unbuttoning her red and black blouse, while the doors ding. But she can't help but to laugh as the white wolf makes a mad dash down the hallway and towards one of only two doors down the entire corridor.

Setting her down on her feet, she keeps laughing as he pats his pockets, obviously looking for a key or a scroll. Meanwhile, she finishes unbuttoning her blouse and slips out of it. And the look on his face as she stands there in just her bra, skirt, and heels, her blouse in her hands is absolutely priceless.

She can feel the warmth starting in her core. A warmth that won't be denied…

They barely get through the door before her lips are against his, while her hands work at unbuckling his belt. It's been a long twenty five years of chaste virginity, and her frustration is at a boiling point. She can feel her tail wagging so quickly it almost feels like it's going to fall off or go flying off, but she doesn't care. She's still fairly young, far from home, and he did present an excellent argument in that they'll never see each other again after tonight.

Ruby Rose is moaning within seconds. She is soon screaming within minutes. And Eis is full of shit if he's still a virgin in her eyes after bringing her to her first real orgasm ever. The first of many. But neither the rabbit faunus or the wolf faunus realize that she had moved a little bit too quickly, neither of them even considering using any kind of protection whatsoever...

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Eis Schnee awakens with a start, clutching his head and groaning in his discomfort. After agreeing to go out with his partner, Flynt Coal, to a local pub popular with travelers simply passing through, he soon found himself drunk and flirting with…

All he can remember is her brilliant quicksilver eyes. Those and how much he had made her scream as they made passionate love in his now partially destroyed bed.

Glancing at the opposite side of said piece of furniture, he sighs as he realizes that she was already gone, only the smell of her perfume to prove the fact that she even existed. Noticing his bladder and the fact that it is demanding to be emptied, he finally stands and rushes into the bathroom, groaning at the fact that despite her absence, she still left several bite marks on his shoulders and chest, including one that appears to have drawn some blood.

He's more than a bit concerned that she's mate marked him, but he soon puts it out of his mind as he smells the first aroma of freshly brewed coffee coming from the kitchen. Grabbing a pair of shorts, he stops long enough to put them on before exiting and joining his sister, Willow.

"Good morning, Twit. I see you finally took advantage of me being gone and punched your v-card." Willow, like him, is unusually tall for a woman at six foot, one inches in height thanks to their birth father, a Mountain of a wolf faunus man. With her long, ankle length white hair, brilliant ruby red eyes, and curvy figure, she is possibly the most highly sought after bachelorette in all of Atlas and Mantle, despite her missing limb.

"Indeed, dolt. It was nice having the place to myself for a change." He replies quietly as he helps himself to the coffee. Looking around, he sighs as he notices that, once again, there is no sign of the young mystery woman who came home with him last night. A few small clues in the fact that his own clothes are still strewn about, the smell of laundry detergent and fabric softeners cling to the air, and her empty wine bottle is still in the garbage.

"Then perhaps I should return to Vale more often." She replies quietly as she slowly sips at her coffee, the mug held securely in her sole hand. "I found myself having a rather lovely evening of my own with a particularly handsome man around our age."

"Oh?" He asks curiously as he sits next to her and grabs at the morning paper. "Please say you at least caught his name." He adds while opening it to the classifieds to look for a small hunt of some kind to stay busy.

"Xiang Xiao Long, my dear twit. And let me guess, you once again showed your lack of manners by not introducing yourself properly?" She asks while shaking her head in disbelief.

"I will admit to being quite intoxicated. So much so that even Dad would have been lecturing me."

"Ouch. When even Daddy would be raising hell as he calls it, you know you overdid it somehow." She admits as she sets her coffee down and checks her messages. "I wish the guild would leave me alone." She suddenly blurts out angrily as she throws her scroll across the room and into a wall. "Why would I take a contract now?! When I am a diminished weakling!"

Seeing the coming meltdown, Eis puts his own search for work to the side to wrap his arms around his volatile twin. "Be at peace, sister. I'll go have a word with the general."

She nods as she bursts into tears while clinging to him. "Is it not bad enough to be a cripple, Eis?! Is it not torture enough to not even be able to look at myself in a mirror without feeling like a weakling?!"

"Shhhh, you are not a cripple, Noiry. You are the strongest woman I know. Not many can continue on like you have, living your life as you do with courage and passion." He whispers to her as he rubs her back.

All thoughts of figuring out who his mystery partner flee his mind as he begins to rock his sibling gently, while she weeps into his chest with almost bone shaking sobs of sorrow. It would be several hours before he is able to return to his room to make his bed, discovering a bracelet of some kind left behind on his mysterious guest's side of his bed. A bracelet with a burning rose set in the middle…

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Ruby sighs as she settles deeper into her seat in the business class section of the Melta Airlines airship. After the events of her drunken night, as well as the rush to wash her clothes and get back to the airship port, she can only hope no one saw her walk of shame. Both of her mothers would kill her for pulling a Xiang, and Robin would be giving her shit for it for years to come.

But wow! What a night before all the rushing around!

As she settles down even more into her seat, while also curling up under the blanket she bought at the port, she is beginning to drift off when her scroll begins to vibrate insistently. Opening one silver eye, she begins to swear softly as she sees her older brother's grinning face on the screen. Grabbing an earbud out of her purse, she sighs as she puts it into one human ear and pushes the green button. "What?"

"Damn sis, is that any way to greet your favorite brother?"

"You're my only brother, thank the Goddesses, and I'm hung over."

"Awwww, poor poor bunny. It's been too Xiao Long since I took you out, hasn't it?" The older blonde replies impishly.

"Oh shut up, you obnoxious dragon!" Ruby snarls as she digs in her purse for some asprin or something to make the pounding in her head go away. "What do you want?!"

"I met someone."

"What's their name?" She asks as she motions to a flight attendant for something to drink, grateful the woman brings a bottle of water a moment later and not soda or alcohol.

"Her, thanks. I think I'm done with non binaries since Blake broke my heart and all." She can't help but to have a small moment of sympathy for her bisexual disaster of a brother. He had loved Blake Belladonna deeply, and the nonbinary panther faunus had broken his heart into pieces when they decided they were more interested in the fairer sex than him. Ruby and Raven both still have some choice words for the panther the next time they cross either woman's paths.

"Wow, an actual woman this time? You must be losing your touch with men again." She can't help but to tease him. She recognizes that tone of voice, and she wants him to stay positive.

"Correction: a black wolf faunus woman. A perfect black wolf faunus woman." She smiles at the delight in his voice, and quickly takes the headache medicine in her hand so that she can keep him on topic. "Tell me about her."

Ruby Rose keeps smiling as she settles back into her chair, under her new blanket, and listens to her brother tell her excitedly about this new woman he met while in Vale, while she was there on a business trip. At least until she realizes that her bracelet is missing…

[princessofgayskull]

somehow I’ll still love you more (kitra fic sneak peak)

so this is a scene from my upcoming fic somehow I’ll still love you more, which at is core is going to be a kitra/baby fic. However, there’s a lot I want to say about this (you know me, can’t keep that word count down) so this fic will be nothing if not a full course meal.

The fic is told in a nonlinear fashion. This particular scene I wanted to share with you guys because I believe it touches on a lot of what the fic is going to be about. It’s set between the episodes White Out and Light Spinner in Season 2. Enjoy! (this has not been beta’d yet)

“Scorpia,”

“Hmm- huh?”

“Stop doing that.”

“Stop doing what?”

Pulling up the hand brake, Catra stopped the speeder in its tracks before whirling around, her left eye twitching like the movement was the only thing keeping her eyeball in place. “That- that thing you’re doing with your mouth. That noise you’re making under your breath.”

“Singing?” Scorpia raised an eyebrow. 

“You call that singing?” Catra scoffed at her inferior. Look, Catra got that growing up in the Horde meant there weren’t any private music lessons (even if that was in Shadow Weaver’s job description she’d just relegate that responsibility off to some tone deaf Force Captain so she’d have more time to make Catra’s life a living hell and dote on Adora on the side) that all those half-witted princesses definitely got growing up, but it was like Scorpia was trying for the same sound her pincers made when she dragged them down slabs of concrete. 

Catra’s hand squeezed the brake handle until the pressure hurt the bones in her hand, her left eye still twitching. It was like Scorpia was trying to tank Catra’s recent promotion as Hordak’s second in command by being as annoying as she could on purpose. But who wasn’t trying to derail all of Catra’s hard earned progress these days?

“Oh um, I could stop. If you want.” Scorpia muttered, her face falling into an expression that gave Catra the urge to both scream, puke, cry, and beg for forgiveness at the same time. And lately, every action, every word, every little breath that any took in her direct vicinity set off a domino effect of violent emotions in Catra, every single one too enormous and too consuming for her body. 

Good thing Catra didn’t have time for any of that. 

“Just-” Catra’s breath faltered when Scorpia refused to look at her (what? Now she was the bad guy just because she needed focus or Hordak would have her sent to Beast Island? Or worse?!), “- just don’t do it right now, okay?”

This earned Catra an enthusiastic nod, and she was too fucking tired to do anything but figure that was going to have to do, given the time crunch, and not mention, the insane amount of pressure she was running under. Clicking the brake, Catra pushed the handle down, fucking ecstatic to be driving the speeder the rest of the way in peace and quiet. Finally. Scorpia didn’t say another word, didn’t make another noise, until Catra was pulling up to the edge of Dawn’s Pass and activating the brake again.

That was good enough for Catra.

Just as Catra moved up to the edge to take a watchful stance of the town, Scorpia opened her big mouth. “Uh, boss? Not that I don’t love these recon missions with you lately, but I gotta ask: why are we staking out this village again? The Horde’s occupied this place for the last twelve years, and this isn’t exactly what I pictured when you said we were going to start hanging out over work? I mean, unless Dawn’s Pass has a mean bowling alley. Does- does it?”

“No,” Catra’s tail twitched in irritation. 

“Oh.” 

A cadet, waving his baton in a steady motions, stood at the broad brick wall that blocked off the town as his shift replacement approached from the west, whistling a tune through their helmet so ear shattering it put Scorpia’s new little song to shame. Keeping her eyes trained on the two of them, Catra braced herself for the metallic scent of magic to hit her nose. There was the quick swish of her claws unsheathing, and then, a pregnant silence. 

If they’re going to strike, Sparkles and Rainbow and- and Adora, or any of the other dopey Princesses- are going to strike now.

But Catra watched unfold was a typical exchange between Horde Cadets: a simple salute, a complaint about standing for ten hours, and a wish for good luck during the dull, boring night shift. No Princesses. No magic. No threats anywhere in sight.

Nothing. Just like Dawn’s Pass went from being a primary target to just another boring occupied village and Catra’s paranoia had wasted another night. Grimacing, her claws digging into her forehead, Catra actually found herself hoping Hordak would be too busy wasting pleasantry on the Princess who sat at (or on it, literally, because Entrapta just thought she was the shit and that she could waltz into any room) his throne to speak with her tonight. Her lengthy string of failures was getting harder and harder to choke her way through excusing.

“So um,” Scorpia started up again, sending Catra’s ears laying flat up against her head. She exhaled a hot and irritated sigh, but the Horde’s hostage/princess stayed true to her inability to take a fucking hint, “when you said we were going to start hanging out after we came back with all that tech from the the Northern Reach, I just- I just didn’t picture us, you know patrolling.”

An angry pulse ran up Catra’s back at the mention of their tech victory- Entrapta’s tech victory- back in that shitty winter wasteland she almost froze her tail off in. “Scorpia,” her voice was thin, “I told you a thousand times, I don’t have time. Just take what you’re given and try not to complain.”

Wow, did she just sound like Shadow Weaver right then. Whatever, Catra turned her head away from Scorpia, in no mood to deal with the fallout of seeing her sort-of-friend’s expression, maybe the Old Crone was right about some things in the end.

“Can I ask why we’re here? Like here, here? What makes a place with no bowling alley so interesting?” The second Scorpia let up, Catra let her forehead hit the rim of the speeder and didn’t even blink at the ringing pain. Ugh, Scorpia just never gave up. How many times did Catra have to ask for some damn silence so she could think? 

Running her claws down her face- again- Catra grunted, “Dawn’s Pass can’t fall into the hands’ of the Rebellion. If we lose it, or if they’re conspiring with the Princesses, we’re going to lose the Horde’s longest occupied village and we’ll be giving up the tactical advantage it gives us against that flower Princess’s kingdom.” And I will have another failure under my badge. If I lose another town, I can basically kiss my Force Captain badge goodbye. And maybe my life.

“Ohhhh…” Scorpia trailed off. At this point Catra was going to end up with a bitch of headache just from rolling her eyes at the other Force Captain. “Yeah, that makes sense. This’ll be fun! Patrolling the occupied territories with my bestie!”

Catra made a noise of disgust, but it wasn’t enough to stop Scorpia from pushing herself onto the front seat and almost pushing Catra out of it. Leaning the exoskeleton covered parts of her elbows onto the rim, Scorpia let out a contented sigh, her ditzy gaze trained on the town as Catra struggled- yipping and yelping to no end and scratching up the dinged up leather of the seat- to get her tail out from under the other woman’s butt. 

Do the words “personal space” just mean absolutely jackshit to her? Catra, gripping her freed tail, growled under her breath and turned away from Scorpia. The seat was practically hers now! Looks like kneeling on the floor would have to do! It’s like I’m wearing a sign on my forehead that reads “what’s mine is yours, including the air I breathe!” Ugh, of course Hordak doesn’t listen to me, nobody does! Not even Scorpia! Everyone is too busy with their own heads up their asses to see what I’m trying to accomplish, or to give me enough space to let me do it! And she wonders why I don’t wanna “hang out after work,” or whatever.

Maybe bringing Scorpia as her backup belonged up there with some of Catra’s worst ideas; not like she didn’t have a pretty impressive tab of those wracked up already. Whatever, the universe wasn’t exactly open to responding to any of Catra’s actions with anything other than another round of punishment, so it wasn’t like acting on her impulsive or emotional notions were really going to be her undoing. Not with Hordak out for her neck, her badge no longer wielding the protective force that came with having real authority. 

Catra was an idiot to think that power would’ve actually lasted her longer than a week, that now that she’d taken out Shadow Weaver and left her to her rotting self in a cell that there wouldn’t be another player on the board that could take her shield of Second in Command away from her. Well, that’s what she got for letting Entrapta into their vents. Helping them win the war or not, Horde or not, their resident techwhiz was still a Princess.

And princesses weren’t good for anything other than being annoyances that stood in Catra’s way.

“Are you seriously humming again, Scorpia?!” Catra yelped out, the volume of her voice loud enough to scare several birds from off the town’s wall. Her split eyes had been trained on the town as she crouched at the bottom of the speeder, the only entertainment the angry spiral echoing in her brain, tailing the action of a family and their wagon of sparse supplies as they approached the gate when the grating sound smacked her upside the head. The resulting intensity of her fury was almost enough to give Catra the strength to put her fist through the wall of the speeder.

Scorpia retreated into herself. “Sorry.”

Holding back a response, Catra just scoffed again and turned back to the previous subject of her attention. Watching one of the men of the family reach the gate and request entrance into his town was better than directing a full on meltdown at her inferior, kicking her out of the speeder, and forcing her to walk her way back to the Fright Zone. Catra wasn’t so far drowning her rage to something that idiotic, yet.

It was big yet. Catra knew that as she tried to shift her position, rolling her head on her shoulders and squeezing her fists, breathing only through her nostrils despite understanding that there was no sitting with an anger this encompassing. The feeling pushed and pushed and pushed at her physical walls until it was practically promising that Catra’s building fury would end one mesmerizing explosion, one that would take her, Scorpia, the family, the Horde Cadet, the entire town, all of it, out with a bang. 

Now if only Scorpia had the brains to know that when she started her singing up again.

Catra peeled her blue eye open. The sun was beginning to set, and it had bathed the surrounding forest in shades of soft pink and orange, a scene so painfully ordinary it meant they couldn’t be anywhere else other than reality. Underneath the shadow cast by the stone wall, Catra took in a breath as she watched the first man continue to negotiate his family’s entrance into their own town.

Okay, so she’d hadn’t blown them all to fiery simtheriens- not the speeder, not the wall, not the little girl watched over by another man stumbling barefoot in the grass, letting out happy babbles as she pulled out clumps of grass and started sticking them in her cloth diaper until her father got down on his knees just to get her to stop. Guess Catra could count that as victory that her emotions hadn’t ended in an explosion that ended a child, a baby. Catra figured that given the fact that each step the little girl took on those chubby little legs of hers was a leap of faith that she probably wasn’t even a year and a half old.

The other man, the one that had chosen to forgo the customary negotiation in favor of watching the little girl experiment with walking near their wagon, moved from his kneeling position to pick her up. Something about the way the villager held her with a grip firm enough to keep his child from falling, yet not with so much strength that he hurt left a series of psychosomatic bruises up and down Catra’s ribs. She watched as the man ran a hand bigger than his daughter’s entire head through her soft and downy mauve hair, careful to avoid the tiny stumps in her head that would eventually become long enough and pronounced enough to match the horns of her father’s head. Catra let out a breath she was holding just to suck in another.

“Dada!” Even from the faraway vantage of the speeder Catra’s ears still picked up on the sound of the little girl recognizing her father. Because the universe was both impartial and cruel. Right as Catra realized she had stuck one set of claws in her mouth and she was chewing on them- who was she?! Adora?! Out her biting her freaking nails ‘cause something had the nerve to make her uncomfortable?- the baby stuck her tiny, chubby little hand into her father’s bright orange beard and yanked without mercy.

Now that guy’s screams scared the rest of the birds away.

As the family’s head negotiator rushed away from the Horde Cadet to tend to his husband’s facial hair, their daughter laughing up a riot at their combined reactions, Scorpia leaned over to where Catra sat on the floor, her tail twitching back and forth. “Uh boss?” she started but Catra didn’t turn away, her hand clutched into the fabric that rested above her sternum and not on her Force Captain badge for once. “Should we do something about these guys?”

“Why? They’re not Princesses.” They’re just a normal family trying to get into the place they live, so they can take their daughter home and have a dinner together that’s not mush, and then tuck their daughter in, tell her bedtime stories, be there in the night in case she has nightmares and needs them.

The fathers joined in on their daughter’s laughter.

“Well, that is true.”

A new feeling crept up Catra’s spine, but this time around the discomfort didn’t bring to her the edge of explosion. Implosion, actually. It was the same heaviness that settled in her lungs and crawled up to her throat, a slow and destructive effective infection of Catra’s self, when Hordak shut down her ideas to let Entrapta speak. When the Princesses left a trail of glitter behind running, tripping over themselves to follow She Ra’s lead. When Shadow Weaver cupped Adora’s face and showed her with praise for the simplest fucking task. 

Yeah, Catra knew it made her the world’s biggest idiot to keep her eyes on the seemingly indifferent family and the happiness that radiated off them. She was aware of the damage she brought on herself by not turning away, the risk she ran by letting her emotions run her. So why couldn’t she look somewhere else, anywhere else?

“I can’t wait to be a mom.” Scorpia said out of nowhere. Ears flying straight up, Catra blinked before turning to gawk at her. 

“Wait, really?” A mom mom, as in a  person who takes care of and looks after her children? 

“Yeah, I mean, it’s something I’ve always wanted.” Scorpia shrugged, somehow rubbing her neck with those big pincers of hers. “Why, do you think that’s a bad idea?”

“Scorpia, we’re in the middle of a war,” and that was putting it bluntly, “Besides, Hordak doesn’t even allow fraternization between his soldiers, much less-” her sputtering stops, Catra’s brain still tripping over the word fraternization, “having a family!”

“Well, we’re not going to be at war for the rest of our lives, Catra. Once we get the rebellion to surrender, I kinda wanted to set down roots, do something other than be a Force Captain, not that I don’t love doing that. I’m sure Hordak will loosen up about the whole fraternization thing as soon as we win! I mean, you’ve seen how he was with Entrapta!”

At her words, Catra came close to all out hurling over the speeder’s edge. It was crappy enough of Scorpia to bring up how Entrapta and Hordak were getting closer every day and shoving Catra out of the position she worked her ass off for, but then she had to go and frame it like that? 

Look, Catra got that Entrapta wasn’t the most socially aware princess, but yikes. That didn’t mean she didn’t have some sort of standard.

“What about you, Catra?” Scorpia continued, “What do you- um, what do you see yourself doing after the war?”

Catra met Scorpia’s eyes, only to regret it. “I- I-” she stuttered, looking away and forcing her eyes closed. Pfft, after the war? After the war? How the hell was Catra supposed to picture an after when her entire life, her entire purpose, every goal she’d ever had, was only because there was a war to begin with? 

The Horde conquers the rest of the planet, sends the Princesses running, puts She Ra in the ground, and what, Catra was just supposed to have a plan for after that? What… what was Catra supposed to do when they did win, when the Horde pulled off everything she worked for?

Even though she was expecting to find an emptiness, a blank space, a new start for the after the war when she tried imagining it, all Catra could picture was blonde hair tied up in a tight ponytail, melodic laughter accented by brief snorts ringing in her, the bluest eyes cutting through the longing. The same longing that plagued Catra when she forced her eyes open and saw the two fathers talking to their daughter in gentle yet bright voices, explaining to her that the soldiers had processed their papers and they could go home now.

“I don’t know.” was Catra’s quiet response. 

There wasn’t any promise Hordak would keep her alive that long anyway, or if there would be anything left to live for by the time Catra got Adora down her knees and ended it all- by giving into that implosion that lived deep down in her core, letting it rip right through her and seeing to it that her love for Adora severed the universe in two, creating black hole that would suck them all in eventually- right then and there. Like it always promised to.

A part of Catra tried to push beyond that implosion, tried to picture the future Scorpia envisioned in her mind of setting down roots and birthing legacies. Was there a part of her, beyond the pain and the brokenness, that wanted what Scorpia wanted, too?

Watching that family tonight had been the only part of her mission that hadn’t felt the same as downing a vat of acid down her throat. And as hell bent as Catra was on obliterating any princess that dared to mess with this town’s occupation, there was no animosity in her heart towards that little girl.

She was kinda cute, in the mischievous, funny kind of way. And almost fun- for a baby, that is.

But when Catra closed her eyes once more to picture that little girl and her happy, innocent smile, all that was waiting for her was the image of a shriveled shadow, locked and rotting away back in the Fright Zone.  

[pheedraws]

I got tagged in this ultimate OTP meme a while ago and this has been sitting in my drafts since because I am, at my core, indecisive. It also means I can’t remember who tagged me so my apologies! I could not sleep at all last night so I finally finished it off ... voila 

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice?

They both try to keep things low-key, especially if others are within earshot, but they are also incredibly stubborn and won’t back down from an argument if they think they are right so things can often get loud.

Who threatens to leave but never actually does?

Neither of them. They’ve both had enough people walk out on them in the past that they wouldn’t threaten the other with that in the heat of the moment, regardless of the argument.

Who actually keeps their word and leaves?

As above. At the very most, one of them will go somewhere to cool off for a few hours but that’s the extent of that.

Who trashes the house?

Neither of them. Billy has the shorter temper of the two but that’s not his style.

Do either of them get physical?

Never.

How often do they argue/disagree?

Hoo boy. After Billy breaks things off mere days before they lose Maria and the kids? Dee can’t stand to be in the same room as him without fighting. Billy plays along, after all he needed the dispute to seem real so Rawlins would drop Dee as a potential pawn to use against him (thus keeping her safe), but the part of him he buried deep down hates seeing her hurt and angry. Doesn’t stop him from landing a few cutting jabs every now and then, though…

Post-S1? Not a lot. It takes them a while to work through things after Rawlins’ death and Billy’s pardoning, eventually getting back to how things were in the ‘good old days’. All the previous grievances just seem petty in comparison and thus arguments are few and far between. When they do get back together? It’s all small domestic things, the most common argument being Billy trying to get Dee to just slow down and stop working herself to the bone.

Who is the first to apologise?

Usually Billy. (He is usually the one in the wrong, so…)

Sex:

Who is on top?

More often than not Billy, though he certainly has no qualms against sitting back and making Dee work for it from time to time.

Who is on the bottom?

Mostly Dee, with exceptions of course. (She can top Billy every so often, as a treat)

Who has the strangest desires?

I wouldn’t say either of them have particularly strange desires, but their sex life is never boring. Let’s leave it at that.

Any kinks?

Too damn many. Dee more so than Billy, which he fucking loves.

Who’s dominant in bed?

Almost always Billy. Even when Dee’s on top, he’s still the one in control.

Is head ever in the equation?

Absolutely.

If so, who is better at performing it?

Billy’s an incredibly confident and smug man, both in life and in the bedroom. Is it justified? Wholly.

Ever had sex in public?

…Yes.

They just had to break in the newly refurbished head office at Anvil, after all…

Who moans the most?

They both get pretty vocal in their own ways. For Billy, it’s a lot of guttural moans and ‘fuck’s. In Dee’s case? Well, Billy doesn’t rest until she’s screaming loud enough that all her neighbors know him by name…

Who leaves the most marks?

Billy. He’d never push Dee past her limits or seriously hurt her, but he does get a little... carried away in the moment.

Dee loves it though.

Who’s the more experienced of the two?

Again, Billy.

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’?

In the early days it was almost exclusively fucking. They had a friends-with-benefits situation going on that didn’t leave room for the feelings they both refused to acknowledge.

Post-S1, when everything is back on track and positive? It’s a healthy mix of the two.

Rough or soft?

Again, a healthy mix of the two.

How long do they usually last?

Billy has the stamina of a superhuman. Whether it’s fucking or making love, you can bet your ass he’s making it last until Dee is fully spent.

Is protection used?

Yes. They’re both too busy to consider the, ahem, alternative right now.

Does it ever get boring?

With Billy Russo? Never.

Where is the strangest place they’ve have sex?

An elevator.

Heathens.

Family:

Do they plan on having children/or have children?

That is… a complicated topic. After losing Lisa and Frank Jr., Dee was kind of put off the idea of starting a family with anyone. Billy has his own reservations about kids and parenthood too, given his own history. Plus post-S1, with both of them working hard towards getting Anvil re-established? There isn’t time for that.

Neither of them completely rule out future possibilities, though.

If so, how many children do they want/have?

Neither have given it much thought, in all honesty.

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle?

They are both partial to a good cuddle on the sofa or in bed, particularly after a long day.

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places?

B I L L Y. That man’s randiness is second to none.

Who struggles to keep their hands to themselves?

As above, Billy. It isn’t always inherently sexual, though; he uses touch as an affirmation more so than words, so he’ll make a point of brushing loose hairs out of Dee’s face, or sliding his arms around her waist whenever he can. He’s finally at a stage in his life where he can afford to be soft and affectionate, so naturally he wants to make the most of it.

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable?

Depends on the situation. Both of them are borderline workaholics, so staying still for anything longer than half an hour during the day just doesn’t sit well with them and they’ll take themselves off to get back to work. If they fall asleep in each other’s arms, though? You best believe they’ll still be entwined when morning comes.

Who gives the most kisses?

Dee’s the smoocher of the pair, always has been, though Billy has taken to planting a kiss on her forehead when her brows knit together while working to ease the tension there.

What is their favourite non-sexual activity?

Their secret indulgence is sacking off work on a Friday night to order pizza and drink beer while watching some dumb movie neither are really interested in. Sometimes they invite the others over, but more often than not it’s just their night to breathe and enjoy each other’s company.

Dee will adamantly deny that she almost always falls asleep during the movie, though…

Where is their favourite place to cuddle?

Billy spared no expense when decorating his penthouse, so the sofa and bed are simply to die for. In the end that’s what spurs Dee to move in with him, lest she have to listen to him complain about her brick of a sofa one more time…

How often do they get time to themselves?

Not as often as they’d like. Later on down the line, when Dee leaves her clinic behind, they both work at Anvil, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they have more time to themselves. It’s busy, especially in the wake of the Rawlins fiasco, but things settle down eventually. They take those moments to themselves whenever they can.

Sleeping:

Who snores?

Mercifully, neither of them do.

If both do, who snores the loudest?

While neither of them snore, Dee talks utter nonsense in her sleep, which Billy then teases her for relentlessly.

Do they share a bed or sleep separately?

Always share a bed. Sleep doesn’t come easy to Dee, but having Billy beside her helps.

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart?

They’ll cozy up as they fall asleep. More often than not they’ll wake up like that too, though Dee has been known to shift into some utterly nonsensical positions that would make a chiropractor cry.

What do they wear to bed? If they’re together?

Dee sleeps in a vest and shorts all year round.

Billy? Just underwear, unless previously removed before falling asleep …

Are either of them insomniacs?

Dee is a chronic insomniac and workaholic. While they’re in the middle of their break-up, can’t-stand-the-sight-of-each-other phase, Dee works through the night until she physically can’t stay awake any longer; anything to avoid the tossing and turning and overthinking that awaits her in bed. Things get better after Rawlins is dealt with and Billy is back in the picture, but it’s still a struggle for her at times.

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside?

Dee tried them once. They don’t work.

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side?

A little bit of both. Dee likes feeling Billy there with her so will tangle herself up in his arms and legs when she can, but if it’s hot? Stuff that. There’s nothing Dee hates more than feeling hot and smothered.

Who wakes up with bed hair?

Dee, and she will forever be bitter that Billy I’m-So-Perfect Russo can wake up looking like a damn model regardless of the antics they got up to the night before.

Who wakes up first?

If Dee had a fitful night of sleep, she’ll be up and out of bed at the earliest reasonable hour. On a normal day, Billy will wake up first.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other?

They usually just grab breakfast on the way to work, but if it’s a weekend or a special occasion? Billy is known to surprise her with breakfast in bed.

What’s their favourite sleeping position?

Billy on his back with Dee against his side, her head in the crook of his neck.

Do they set an alarm each night?

Billy doesn’t need one; perks of being a marine, and all. If they need to be up at a certain time, he’ll wake Dee up himself… sometimes in creative ways.

Can a television be found in their bedroom?

No. Billy never had one in his bedroom when he lived alone, and Dee wasn’t fussed either way.

Who has nightmares?

They both have their demons, so nightmares are a frequent occurrence. There’s a shared sense of comfort there, though; the pair always knowing what the other needs when they awake with a start, sheen of sweat on their body. The nightmares don’t follow them into the waking world anymore.

Who has ridiculous dreams?

Dee. And she’ll mutter and talk in her sleep the whole time.

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed?

Surprisingly, Billy. While he’s kept many of his old sleeping habits from his days in the marines, he just can’t resist sprawling out in a big, fancy bed these days.

Who makes the bed?

They’re both neat people, so the general unspoken rule is whoever was last out of bed in the morning makes it.

What time is bed time?

It varies. They do try to have a healthy work-life balance, but Anvil is Billy’s pride and joy; if he needs to stay late working, he’ll do it without complaint. They’ll usually collapse into bed any time between 11PM and 2AM.

Any routines/rituals before bed?

Regular things; showering, brushing teeth, etc. If they haven’t seen much of each other all day they’ll lay awake chatting for a while, catching up on news and such. If Dee is going through a particularly bad stint of insomnia, she’ll work out in the evening to try and quell some of the restless feelings, and Billy has taken to joining her.

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up?

Dee. Billy is insufferably smug and cheerful on a morning.  

Work:

Who is the busiest?

It varies. When Dee is working at the clinic, she’s working constantly. Where Frank goes, trouble is never far behind, and thus there’s never a quiet moment without a bullet wound to patch up or regular patient to see to. After she decides to call it quits and work for Anvil with Frank, Billy and Curtis, her workload decreases a bit. Though she may be the resident medic, Billy has a lot more work and responsibilities being at the top of the chain in that scenario.

Who rakes in the highest income?

Mr Billy Bigshot-CEO Russo

Are any of them unemployed?

No.

Who takes the most sick days?

Dee is very much of the ‘work until you drop’ ethic, and while the same can be said about Billy too in some respects, he’s more lenient with himself and will take a day off when he really needs it. He’ll also bribe encourage Dee to do the same when it’s evident she needs a break.

And I mean hey, what’s the point in owning your own company if you can’t take a cheeky sick day off every now and then?

Who is more likely to turn up late to work?

They travel together (technically live in the same damn building as their offices) so they really have no excuse. For the most part it all runs smoothly, but there are occasions where their ….. morning activities….. overrun, though Dee is adamant that you can never actually be late if you turn up with the boss; everyone else is just there early.  

Who sucks up to their boss?

Billy is technically Dee’s boss so…. go figure.

What are their jobs?          

After leaving the military, Dee establishes a small clinic in Hell’s Kitchen and works out of there for a few years. It’s met with a lot of resistance, what with her helping Frank out and getting involved in his grievances with local gangs. Eventually, post-S1 and after an arson attack leaves the clinic worse for wear, Dee decides to take up Billy’s offer of working for Anvil alongside Curtis on the medical team.

Billy still owns and runs Anvil, only with his friends by his side this time. It takes some time for the company’s reputation to recover, even after the truth about Rawlins comes out and Billy is exonerated, but he doesn’t mind the work. It makes it feel like his company again.

Who stresses the most?

They both have a knack for stressing and worrying, but Dee comes out on top in this regard. Maria always used to joke that she’d end up with frown lines by the time she’s thirty.

Do they enjoy or despise their careers/occupations?

They do. Billy has an immense sense of pride in his work now, and it’s therapeutic for him to work through the mess Rawlins made and reclaim Anvil as his.

Dee loves helping people, always has, so her work suits her.

Are they financially stable?

They are.

Home:

Who does the washing?

They’ll take it in turns for the most part. Both are incredibly neat people so household work is a breeze.

Who takes out the trash?

They’ll usually do it on the way to work, though if it’s cold outside and they have nowhere to be? Billy’s the one to take one for the team.

Who does the ironing?

Billy took one look at the way Dee irons shirts and forbid her from going near an iron again.

Who does the cooking?

Cooking is something they love to do together. It’s a chance for them to unwind and chat and laugh with each other after long working days, so it’s never a chore for them. If a few glasses of wine just happen to be drank during the process, too… well… they deserve it.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying?

They’re both pretty competent cooks.

Who is messier?

Neither is particularly messy, per se. Dee will say she’s not untidy and call her chaotic desk ‘organized clutter’, but that’s usually limited to her workspaces. The penthouse itself is almost always clean and tidy.

Who leaves the toilet roll empty?

Neither, because they are not heathens… in this regard, at least.

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor?

If Billy is tired, he’ll just strip wherever is convenient and deal with the clothes in the morning. Dee at least makes the extra effort to hang things up or, at the very least, drape it over a chair.

Who forgets to flush the toilet?

They’re both pretty good for remembering that.

Who is the prankster around the house?

Dee has more of a sense of humor than Billy, but that’s not to say Billy doesn’t act like an utter asshole at times when he sees the opportunity.

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere?

Dee doesn’t have a car (she can drive, there’s just not much use for one in the city) so she’s exempt.

I feel like Billy’s car keys are permanently attached to his person. He drives a Wraith, after all.

Who mows the lawn?

Lawn? What’s that?

(Not having a garden is the one thing Dee doesn’t particularly like about city living, though)

Who answers the telephone?

Each has their own mobile, so they deal with their own calls and such.

Who does the vacuuming?

Like with most housework, they’ll take it in turns. Dee refuses to hoover stairs, though, on the grounds that she doesn’t have a death wish.

Who does the groceries?

It depends on whoever has the least amount of work to do on that particular day. Billy quickly catches on to Dee’s confectionary-buying ways, though, so he’ll volunteer to do the shopping more often than not to save their pantry from yet more sugar.

Who takes the longest to shower?

With both of them having served tours overseas, they’re used to showering quickly and effectively. If they’re in the shower together, though? All notions of saving water are out the window.

Who spends the most time in the bathroom?

Billy. Russo. That man has a morning beauty routine to rival any model.

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem?

Nope!

How many cars do they own?

One.

Do they own their home or do they rent?

Billy owns the penthouse. Prior to moving in with him, Dee used to rent an apartment in the city.

Do they live in the city or in the country?

New York, New York, baby!

Do they enjoy their surroundings?

Both grew up in city environments, so New York just feels like home to them. I think after everything they’ve been through, both individually and together, anywhere else would just feel…. Boring?

What’s their song?

Green Grass by Tom Waits

What do they do when they’re away from each other?

If Billy is away with work, they call or skype whenever they can. They’ve spent unwanted time apart in the past, on particularly bad terms to boot, so they don’t like being away from each other for extended periods.

Where did they first meet?

Dee practically grew up with Maria; the two had been nigh on inseparable since the day they met in elementary school, and formed a sisterly bond that carried on way into adulthood. Dee was already going through basic training when Maria introduced her to Frank, who then brought Billy along to the group a couple of weeks later. The two swiftly became close friends, and dabbled in a bit of the ol friends-with-benefits arrangement when off duty.

Who spends the most money when out shopping?

Billy is more willing to spend money, but he rarely goes out shopping for himself; it’s either something to boost Anvil’s status or capabilities, or something for the penthouse. Dee grew up lacking the financial cushion they have today, so old habits die hard in her case. She won’t buy things for herself unless she really needs something, and even then it takes a lot of internal debating to reach that point.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over?

Dee is fairly clumsy, much to her dismay (and Billy’s apparent enjoyment).

Any mental issues?

Hoo boy. Billy is an entire essay in his own right so I’ll focus on Dee, though a lot of their mental troubles overlap. Dee left the military after a mission in Iraq under Schoonover went awry, landing the unit in a hostage situation with only Dee and the Major managing to survive two weeks until they were extracted. She was initially given leave to recover and recuperate with intentions of returning to duty, but she decided against it and was discharged. Dee was later diagnosed with PTSD as a result of the incident. Add to that the later trauma of losing Maria, her lifelong best friend and practically her sister, as well as Lisa and Frank Jr.? The woman went through a lot in an incredibly short space of time and it took its toll on her both mentally and physically.

(I’m missing a lot but alas I have not slept and cannot write a coherent paragraph)

Who’s terrified of bugs?

Dee point-blank refuses to be in the same room as a spider. She knows it’s a bit pathetic, but frankly? She doesn’t really care. Other bugs are fine, just no creepy crawlies inside, please.

Who kills the spiders around the house?

As mentioned above, Dee will not touch a single spider so it’s down to Billy to be the hero and remove them from the building.

Their favourite place?

New York City apartments don’t have much in the way of gardens, but the rooftop terrace on the penthouse quickly became their favourite spot once it was given a bit of TLC. Dee has a few planters for growing flowers and herbs for the kitchen, and Billy surprised her one night with a firepit perfect for huddling around as the sun goes down. It’s like a little safe haven away from the stressful jobs and business below them.

Who pays the bills?

They both contribute, Dee was very insistent on that when she moved in, though Billy offered otherwise.

Do they have any fears for the future?

Plenty. Billy still doubts himself, still judges himself by his past mistakes and actions and worries that one day, everything he holds dear will eventually crumble before him again, only this time he won’t be able to pick up the pieces. He keeps these fears to himself, but Dee can tell when those thoughts are giving him grief, and is always there to offer words of reassurance.

Dee worries about Frank. Her elder brother almost; the one constant in her life over the tumultuous years. She worries that one day, this life they’ve all rebuilt together won’t be enough for him, that he’ll miss what made him him, miss the violence and vengeance. And she gets it, to an extent. She lived that life too after Maria and the kids passed, helping him and getting her hands dirty in ways that meant they’ll never be clean again. But she’s settled now, here, with Billy and Frank and Curtis. She just worries the peace she found won’t last.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner?

Billy, most definitely. He has expensive tastes to begin with and is fairly spontaneous in nature; he’ll often call Dee at work to announce that they’re going out mere hours in advance. It brings him joy to do things for others.

Who’s the tallest?

Billy. He’ll tease Dee about it from time to time, but really? He loves the way he can press his lips to her forehead when she’s in his arms.

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other?

While they both love showering together and, ahem, other more scandalous antics, it’s usually Billy who initiates and slips into the shower behind Dee as opposed to the other way around because for Christ sake Billy shower at a reasonable hour who willingly gets up at 5:30 every morning

Who wanders around in their underwear?

Dee, though Billy has been known to join the underwear party when he a. hungover b. exhausted or c. too damn warm.

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio?

Dee, and while she can indeed sing, she gets so much more joy out of seeing Billy’s grimace whenever she purposefully butchers a song.

What do they tease each other about?

Dee pokes fun at Billy’s hair and how goddamn perfect it is all the time. She’s also taken to lovingly ruffling it up a tad when they’re at home, though that often ends with either her being hoisted over his shoulder or tickled relentlessly…

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times?

They both dress fairly smartly on a day to day basis, taking pride in their appearance and the way they present themselves to the world. There is one exception, however, and that is when Dee insists on lounging around the penthouse that god awful “I Got A Dig Bick” tee Frank gifted Billy during one of Anvil’s annual jokey Secret Santa exchanges. Each time he sees it in the laundry basket he tries his best to dispose of it, but that thing just keeps on making its way back into the wardrobe...

Do they have mutual friends?

They do! Frank and Curtis being the main two, with Karen being more of a mutual acquaintance for Billy, who missed out on a lot while stuck working for Rawlins.

Who crushed first?

There was a mutual attraction there which ultimately spurned the whole friends-with-benefits situation, but Dee was the first to start getting actual Feelings.

Any alcohol or substance related problems?

None.

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk,  at 3 am?

If they’re out drinking that late, they’re most likely out together. Dee’s accent gets stronger when she’s drunk, which Billy finds hilarious. Coincidentally, he also finds everything funny when shitfaced drunk. Naturally, they make quite the pair...

Who swears the most?

Dee swears like a sailor, at any minor inconvenience. Dropped something? Oh fuck off. Minor inconvenience? Bastard. Billy blames it on being exposed to Frank Castle at an early age, which earns a fuck you from them both.

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary - Chapter Two

Warnings: brief mention of child loss, depression, PTSD

Tagging: @valkyrie-of-the-light (I told you I’d give you more soft Tyler), @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007

They work silently and diligently side by side; tearing up the wood planks of the old back deck in preparation for the new one they plan to build. Tyler had opted to take the first three days off after arriving home; no new or existing clients until he had a least seventy hours to spend with his family and to get all the shit done (or at least started) that he’d been putting off for months.  The kid -he still calls him that, always having to remind himself that he is in fact, just shy of being a grown man- has been a huge help over the years: always stepping up to the plate when it came to learning new skills, helping Esme with the kids,  being the ‘man of the house’ when Tyler was away and keeping an eye on not only the house but his wife and his children. He’s matured: taller, a slim yet strong athletic build, his voice much better. Yet there were times where Tyler still caught a glimpse of someone much younger; that terrified kid he’d been hired to extract, the one he’d had to give a fresh pair of pants to because he’d wet his own, the one who’d clung to him on Gaspar’s steps, sobbing that he wanted to go home.

The trauma had set him back a little. Maturity wise. And he still struggled with PTSD, depression, and severe anxiety. Being in a loving and stable home was helping that. He had responsibilities and priorities there; working hard at reno projects or with the animals and in the gardens. He was treated like he was one of their own; disciplined when he needed to be, expected to pitch in when needed.  It had been a struggle at first: his own father had been non existent and an army of servants and other hired help had catered to his every need. He’d never known what it was like to have chores. The feeling of satisfaction it gave when a job was completed and you were given money for it. He’d rebelled at first; mouthy, rude, aggressive. But with the tough love he’d snapped out of it and calmed down.

His moods have settled over the past two years since his mental health diagnosis; mostly due to a host of meds, some of it attributed to a less stressful and more relaxed environment. He is a good kid. A damn good kid in fact. One that was well on his way to becoming a great man.

“Hot today,” Ovi says, as he uses the front of his t-shirt to wipe his brow.  

It is mid June and the sun is high and bright in the sky. Hot for a standard summer in Colorado, especially so close to the mountains.  But a far cry from the sweltering temperatures and suffocating heat and humidity that Ovi had spent more than half his young life growing up in.

“You’d think you’d be used to. You used to live in a lot worse,” Tyler remarks, as he tosses one of the rotted and weathered planks onto their quickly growing pile.  Sweat gathers at his temples and beads on his forehead, and he pushes his baseball cap up and uses his own tank top to clear the perspiration off his brow.

“It never felt this hot there,” Ovi says, as he grabs a bottle of water from  the cooler they’d brought out with them. “At least I don’t remember feeling this hot.”

“Probably because you were inside all the time. You didn’t have to do things like this. You could stay inside in the air conditioning all day, playing video games.”

“What did you use to do? When you were my age? Other than wrestle dinosaurs and drag women back to your cave?”

Tyler smirks. “You and Esme just think you’re so funny, don’t you. I turn forty and all the old timer jokes start. I see how it is.”

“I could have made it worse by mentioning all the gray hair that you’re getting,” the kid teases.

“Mate, all these gray hairs have my wife’s name written on them. Believe me.”

Ovi hopes up onto the edge of the deck, sipping his water while swinging those long legs back and forth. “Seriously though, what were you doing when you were my age?”

“I was already in the army. On my first tour in Kuwait.”

“That’s awful young to go to war. You were just a kid.”

 “So were you,” Tyler reminds him. “When you fought your own war. I chose to be there. To make it my life. You were a lot younger than I was and you didn’t ask to put in the situation you were in.”

“I suppose…” his voice trails off. And he absentmindedly picks at the label on the bottle in his hands as he watches the kids as they chased each other through the grass; giggling and shrieking with no cares in the world.

“One day you’ll have some of your own,” Tyler says, as he helps himself to a beer in the cooler.

Old habits die hard; he’d gotten back into the booze when they’d gotten home from their second bullshit visit to Dhaka. It wasn’t nearly as bad as before; he kept things in moderation and was able to cut himself off it he felt like things were becoming problematic. He no longer had a reason to drown himself in a mix of alcohol and pain killers. The demons he battled weren’t as prevalent anymore; he was able to shove them back down into hell where they belonged.

“Think so?”

“Why wouldn’t you? Kids love you. You’re great with them. You’d be a good dad.”

His entire face brightens; an enormous grin spreading from ear to ear.  “Do you think you’re a good dad?”

“I don’t know,” Tyler admits, and leans back against what remains of the deck. “I know the first time around I was a pretty horrible one.”

He didn’t think about it as often now. He remembers the days when the guilt plagued him; eating away to his core, burrowing through to his very soul.  How he’d been struggling with the faded memories of his son until he’d nearly died on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. It had felt as if Austin had been right there with him. The sound of his laugh and his face as clear as day. He often wondered if it was because he’d been so close to death; right on the doorstep of seeing his son again.  Now he only thought of him on special days; the anniversary of his death, birthdays, Christmas.  And it wasn’t with an overwhelming sense of grief. But a bittersweet recollection of the good times they did have in his short six years.

His kids knew about their half brother; how their dad had been married before their mom and had had a baby. And he had told them -as best as they could comprehend at their tender ages- just what had happened to him: he got very sick and was in the hospital and the doctors couldn’t do anything for him.  The twins had been confused; not fully understanding the concept of death. But Millie had been curious and asked a lot of questions. Even now she’d randomly come up with something. Wondering what he’d look like now and if any of them looked like him. If maybe she could go and visit him someday. She understood that he wasn’t an actual physical being any more. And in her mind he was in heaven where he was perfect and beautiful and healthy again. But could they go and visit where he was sleeping?

It was the first time that he had ever cried in front of his daughter. Reduced to tears by the sheer innocence and beauty of her request. And because he had absolutely no idea where Austin was. His ex wife had made sure of that.  Her way of punishing him for his shitty, selfish choices.

“If I was a little kid and you were my father, I’d think you were a great dad,” Ovi remarks. “Your kids don’t have a reason to be scared of you. You don’t ever really yell at them, you don’t hit them. They know that they can trust you and that you can fix all their problems. They know they won’t ever have to afraid of coming to you and telling you things.”

The words hit home. Ovi wasn’t just speaking about his own father’s downfalls, but Tyler’s father’s as well. While Mahajan Senior was still rotting away in prison, Tyler’s dad was still back in Australia, as bitter and miserable as ever, and refusing to return any of his son’s phone calls.

“And most  of all,” Ovi continues. “They see how you treat their mother. They see that you love her. That you don’t mistreat her. That you respect her. That’s important too. That they see their mother being treated well.”

“Well, she’s a queen,” Tyler reasons. “And she deserves to be treated like one. She’s done a lot for me. Since the first day we met. Putting her own ass on the line to help me. Then giving up her life and moving to Australia. I doubt it was the life she had planned for herself. Meeting some random bloke on the job and giving everything up for him. I’m not the easiest person to live with. I know that. I may not always be the best friend and man for her, but she still sticks around. And she’s given me four amazing children. I wouldn’t give her or them up for anything in the world.”

 It’s the first time he’s been that honest with anyone, outside of his wife, about the way he feels about her. About them. About the life they have together. He usually keeps that kind of stuff closely guarded; always wanting to keep his private life just that. Private.  But if he’s learned anything in the past five years, it was that life was too damn short to keep anything back. Because everything could be taken away from you in the blink of an eyes and you’d spend the rest of your life regretting that you didn’t say the things that so desperately needed to be said.

“I hope one day I find that,” Ovi says. “Someone that I love that much. Someone that loves me just the same.”

“You’ve got a lot of time left for that, mate. You still have a lot of living left to do before any of that should cross your mind.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence; sipping their drinks and watching as all three kids try to climb into the hammock strung between two trees.

“Can I ask you a question?” Ovi asks. “It’s kind of personal.”

“How personal?”

“It’s about girls. And sex.”

He’s honestly surprised that it’s taken this long for a conversation like that to come up.  Not for a  lack of trying on his part; he was always trying to get Ovi to open up about the girls he was dating and whether or not he’d had any sexual experience under his belt. And if he did, was he being careful about things? But Ovi would always get embarrassed and change the subject. Another sign of the maturity issues he struggled with, Tyler supposed.

“What about them?”

“When you first had sex, were you in love with the person?”

“I thought I was. But no mate, I wasn’t in love them. Not if I judge by what I know love is now.”

“How old were you?”

“Fifteen.”

“That’s pretty young. Do you regret it? Being that young?”

“I’ve honestly never thought about it. Why? Where’s all this coming from?”

“I’ve been thinking it a lot lately. About wanting to meet someone I love. Someone that I can give myself to in that way.”

“So you’ve never…you know…”

“No!” he exclaims. “Never! I’ve always wanted to be special. With someone special.”  He frowns. “Why? Do you think that’s weird?”

“Nah, I don’t find that weird, mate. I find it pretty damn honourable, actually.”

His eyes widen. “You do?”

“It’s a personal thing, yeah? What we do, who we do it with, when we do it. Most guys would have long ago coughed up their V card. Just giving it to the first girl that showed even the remotest bit of interested. I think it’s admirable. That you feel the way you do. And that you’re able to stick with it. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. One day you’ll find the right girl. And you’ll know pretty quick that she’s the one you want to be with and experience that with.”

“Like you and Esme?”

Tyler laughs. “Let’s not kid ourselves. It wasn’t one of those love at first sight bullshit stories you hear about. Lust at first sight, absolutely. But love? No. It took a while for that to happen.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know. A few months maybe. She was already pregnant when it happened. One day I just looked at her and she just looked so beautiful with my baby growing inside of her and I knew I felt it. I knew there and then that I was in love with her and I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. Sometimes I think she thinks I only asked her to marry me because she was pregnant and I felt obligated to do it. But that wasn’t the case. I wanted to marry her because I loved her. No other reason.”

He had felt something before then. The inklings of love perhaps. The beginning of the journey of falling in love with someone. He had known he wanted something more than just a sexual relationship; they had chemistry, a bond unlike he’d ever shared before with a woman. And he’d been looking forward to exploring that when Ovi’s extraction was over and they got back from Dhaka. That had been their plan; spend two months travelling together and getting to know one another.

But sometimes life works in mysterious way.

“If someone had have told you five or six years ago that this is how your life would be, would you have believed them?” Ovi inquires.

“Honestly?” he laughs. “I would have told them they were fucking crazy. I never planned on being a husband again. Or having more kids. I thought it was a one and done for me.”

“But you’re glad right? That your life turned out the way it did in the end.”

He smiles as he watches his kids. All three of them now cuddled up together in the hammock, pointing up at the clouds and talking about what animal or shape they thought they were.

“Not just glad, mate,” he says. “Fucking ecstatic.”

 ****

He sits on the front porch swing watching the sunset; the streaks of vivid pink and orange that paint the sky.  His hands behind his head, one foot moving the seat at a slow, even pace.  Listening to the chirping of crickets and the croaking of toads and the other various sounds of wildlife waking from their daytime slumber. It’s a peace and a contentment that he’s never known before; being able to take the time and just sit back and listen and observe what most people take for granted. He’s tired; weary to the bone. A mixture of the two week shitshow that is now thankfully behind him and the work that he and Ovi had put in during the day.

He aches; the lingering issues brought on by years of injuries, his freshly cracked ribs, and the touch of sunburn that he sports.  He’s glad to be home. Grateful that he’s lived long enough to see this kind of view again. To be able to tuck his kids in bed and kiss them goodnight. To be able to just stand beside his wife while washing dishes and talk about random bullshit. There was no need to talk about the job; he preferred to leave it behind him once he stepped back in the door and she preferred to stay oblivious to just what kind of danger he was putting himself in. She knew of course. How could she not? She had been in the game herself once. But it was easier for her to cope if it was simply out of sight, out of mind.

The front door creaks open and he glances, smiling at his wife as she steps out onto the porch in her bare feet. A mug of a steaming hot beverage in each hand and a faded and worn flannel blanket tucked under her arm.  She looks beautiful; no make up on those smooth, youthful features, her hair tossed up into a messy bun, wearing a pair of sweat pants and one of his shirts. Every day he falls more in love with her. Seeing the way she adores and nurtures the children they’ve made together, the respect and love that she shows towards Ovi, that way she just carries herself with a quiet dignity and grace, even if she may be falling apart inside.

“What’cha doing?” she asks, as she hands him a mug of black of coffee and sets her own drink -a honey and ginger tea- on the ground.

This is their ‘thing’. For five years they’ve spent nearly every night -when he’s home and weather permitting- out there on the swing. It was their time together; outside of sex. When the kids were in bed and the world was falling asleep and they got to relax together. Rediscover all those little things that made them tick and had them falling in love with one another in the first place.

“Nothing,” he replies. “Just sitting. Waiting for you.”

She settles down beside him; turning her body towards him and tucking her legs into her core, covering her bare feet with the blanket and then reaching for her drink.

He wraps an arm around her and she scoots a little closer; so her head rests against his shoulder. “Coffee?” he asks with a grin. “Are you trying to keep me up all night?”

“Why would I ever do that?” she counters, and they both laugh. “This is how I seduce you now. There’s no more sexy underwear or dirty talk. It’s a cup of coffee sending you the message that I expect you not to fall asleep after round one.”

He snorts. “When have I ever fallen asleep after round one? You must have me mistaken for your other husband.”

“Awww yes,” she grins. “The rich one that comes over when you’re out of town.”

“What’s he like? Nice enough guy? Big? Could I take him?”

“You absolutely could kick his ass. No doubt about it,” she sips her tea, relaxing under the sensation of his fingertips and thumb softly gliding across her upper arm.  “What were you thinking about?”

“Kicking your other husband’s ass.”

“Don’t be jealous, baby. He can’t do the things you do. I’m only with him for the money.”

“I’d like to know where some of this money is, then. Because we need a new roof and a I need a new truck.”

“Money never came through? From the job?”  It happens sometimes. You do all the heavy lifting and you get royally fucked in the end. Mahajan Senior wasn’t the first time it happened. And it won’t be the last.

“Definitely won’t be the pay day that Nik promised it would be. But anything is better than nothing, I suppose.”

Financially speaking, they aren’t hurting. They are careful with their money and now that some of Mahajan’s assets had been unfrozen, he’d been sending them some pretty hefty checks in exchange for taking care of his boy. Child support, in a way.

“What happened?” she asks. “It was only supposed to be four days.”

“I’m surprised you want to talk about it. I thought you liked me to leave it on the porch when I got home.”

“Just curious, I guess. I suppose I feel like I have the right to know why Nik keeps sending my husband to these godforsaken shit holes.”

“In all fairness, I’m the one that picks which godforsaken shitholes to go to. She’s just the one that lets on that things are going to be easier than they are.”

“So what did happen?”

“Just a whole bunch of little fuck ups that when added together just made one big fuck up. Problems with the radios, issues with communication on both sides, a lot more hostiles that anyone thought there’d be, a mix up on where the extraction site was supposed to be. Just a regular old shit show. But it got done. Eventually.”

 She nods, sipping at her tea. She remembers those days all too well.

“But it’s done. It’s over. I’m home now and that’s all that matters.”

“How long is it for? How long do we actually get you here for?”

“I call the shots, remember. I don’t have to take every job she brings my way. Hopefully she gives it a couple weeks before she’s ringing me or knocking on the door.”

“I hope so, too. Because I really need you to fix the toilet in the basement.”

He grins. “So that’s all you need, huh? You need me to lay a little pipe.”

“You’re such a pig,” she laughs. “And don’t sell yourself short. In your case, it is way more than a little pipe.”

“You’ve always been very good for my ego,” he says, and drops a kiss on the top of her head.

“Hey, I call them as I see them.”

“Kids asleep?”

“Finally. Those little shits. What is wrong with your children? Why do they have to be the way they are?” She’s teasing; saying it with the utmost love in her voice and sparkling in her eyes. “I can’t believe you wanted more than one.”

“Well one was twins,” he points out. “So we have four but technically we only went through it three times. So…”

“Don’t even think of following that up with anything. Nothing good will come after that. If you want another baby, you get your mistress to give you one.”

“Which one of the three?” he jokingly retorts.

“You’re such a dick sometimes.”

“Hey, if you can have another husband, I can have a couple mistresses. Don’t worry, babe. None of them are as good as you. I keep coming home, don’t I?”

“You must be a glutton for punishment. You keep coming back for more. Bet you’re wishing you were back in that little shack with bathroom chicken to keep you company.”

“Naw…” he gives her shoulder a squeeze. “…I’ll take you over bathroom chicken every day.”

 ****

They remain on the swing long after the sun has set. The moon full and bright; the velvet sky dotted with thousands of clearly visible and glistening stars. He continues to push that swing; one foot moving it back and forth, his arm still wrapped around her, her head on his chest. And he’s just beginning to wonder if she’s fallen asleep and he’s going to have to actually carry her inside when he feels her move against him. And when he opens his eyes, he finds her sitting straight up -facing him- staring at him intently.

“Stop being a creeper,” he teases.

“This coming from a guy who once confessed to smelling my hair.”

“That was five years ago and you took that way out of context. What I said was that you should be standing close enough to me that I could smell your hair. Not that I did I smell your hair.”

‘Bullshit. I bet you would lie awake at night sniffing my hair. You forget that I’ve known you for five years. I know what kind of weird shit you’re into.”

“Well smelling hair is not one of those things. Why are you staring at me?”

“I’m not allowed to stare at my husband?”

“Not if you’re silently plotting my death while you do it, no.”

Frowning, she reaches up and traces her fingers over the cut above his eye.  

“It’s fine. I ran into a fist.”

“God I hate when that happens. You should have gotten that looked at. It probably could have used stitches.”

“Medic said it wasn’t deep enough. Just to let it heal on its own.”

“And your ribs?”

“Sore. But nothing much I can do about them either. Other than taping them. And I’m not doing that so…”

“You’re a stubborn shit even now, Tyler Rake. I thought for sure you’d grow out of that. Are you sure they’re just bruised? Because if they’re broken they could cause some serious problems and…”

He silences her with a kiss. Long and soft and sweet. “I’m fine. Honest. I’ve had worse.”

Wasn’t that the truth.

“I was worried,” she confesses. “When the fours days were up and you still weren’t coming home. I thought maybe there was something you weren’t telling me.”

“Like maybe I was with one of my mistresses and not really working?” he teases, and she scowls. “Things just went to shit. Things that were totally beyond my control.  Believe me, I wanted to be home after those four days too. Who doesn’t want to get home and have to read Goodnight Moon half a dozen bloody times in a row.”

She smiles at that. “I missed you.”

“I know. You showed me that three times last night.”

“You’re impossible,” she huffs, and when she stands up and attempts to leave, he grabs her by the hips and pulls her onto his lap; her knees settling on either side of his hips.

“I missed you too,” he says. “A lot.”

“So much you had to ‘study’ alone?”

“Now who’s being a smart ass? And yeah…that’s part of it, I guess…but I just missed you. I missed sitting out here every night and just talking. I missed waking up beside you and seeing that sleepy little smile. I even missed hearing you bitch about me leaving the toilet seat up and dirty socks on the floor. I just missed us.”

She smiles, and taking his face in her hands, presses a kiss to his lips. “I can’t help but worry about you. I know you wish I wouldn’t. But I can’t help it.”

“I know,” he runs his hands up her sides and around to her back.

“You’re crazy you know. For going back to it.”

“I know that too.”

“I know I said I’d support you no matter what, that I said I was behind you one hundred percent, but it doesn’t mean that I have to like it. That I have to sit back like a dutiful little wife, ignoring the danger you’re in, pretending that it doesn’t exist.”

“I don’t expect you to,” his palms travel over her shoulders and down her arms, stopping at her wrists. Fingertips tracing a circular pattern on the tops of her hands.

“Aren’t you sick of this life yet, Tyler? Aren’t you sick of the bullshit? Of all the fuck ups and all the worrying and all the wondering if you’re actually going to make it back home?”

“The money’s good.” It sounds pathetic even to him. But it’s the truth.

“Good enough that you’re willing to die for it? When is it going to be enough? When will these goddamn suicide missions stop? A year from now? Two years from now? Ten? When you wind up crippled? Or worse, when you wind up dead?”

“I already told you just one more year.”

“You said that last year. And the year before. And the year before that.”

“Yeah, well this time I mean it. The kids are getting bigger. I’m starting to miss too much. And I see what it’s doing to Millie. When I’m gone for longer than expected and I come home all beaten to shit. I don’t want to have to tell her the truth. About what I’m doing. At least not until she’s older.”

“She idolizes you. There’s no one in this world that she loves more than you. As far as she’s concerned, you can do no wrong.”

“I guess she’s going to be real bloody disappointed years from now when finds out who I really am.”

“Who you really are is her daddy. That’s all that matters to her. That’s all that should matter. Come home, Tyler. To stay. No more running off. No matter how good the money is. Because I can guarantee that we need you a lot more than Nik does. Promise me. This year is the last one. You get this all out of your system and you just come home and stay home.”

“I promise,” he says, and laying a hand on the back of her head, pulls her into him. The kiss is slow at first; closed mouth moving upon closed mouth. His free hand sliding up the bottom of her t-shirt and up her back, fingertips gliding along her spine. And he feels her shudder against him when his feathery touch passes over the small of her back.

What happens next can only be described as a good old fashioned make out session. The type teens get caught up in on the couch in their parents’ basement. Hungry, demanding kisses, greedy hands exploring through the fabrics the still covering their bodies, his hands on her hips as she grinds her pelvis into his. Simple yet sexy enough to get him rock hard in his sweats.

They’re both breathless when he pulls away, running his hands through her hair and taking in her wide pupils and her flushed face and her heaving chest.

“Maybe we should go inside,” she breathlessly suggests.

“Maybe we should. Maybe we can even try for number five.”

She frowns. “Don’t push your luck.”

[ericsonclan]

When She Braided Her Hair

Summary: Prisha struggles to adjust to life with only one functioning arm. Violet helps her see that there's still hope.

Notes: Companion piece to “Braiding Her Hair”, this time from Prisha's perspective.

Read on A03:

Prisha sat alone in her dorm room at Ericson’s School for Troubled Youth, trying her hardest to keep perfectly still as she reached with her one good arm to stroke the brush through her hair. Every misplaced twitch had her seizing up in pain, the burning sensation from her shattered arm radiating throughout her entire body. It had already been weeks since the injury, but she was nowhere near recovered. She would never fully recover; she was maimed for life. Prisha gritted her teeth, trying to focus on the task at hand rather than the new grim reality of her condition. She might be an invalid, but she could still have neat hair. She wasn’t letting this injury take away the one part of herself she’d always maintained. Finally after several minutes of painstaking effort and barely contained gasps of agony, her hair had been thoroughly brushed out. All that remained was to braid it. Prisha reached behind her, groaning in pain as she attempted to pull her hair forward. She started her regular steps, separating the hair into equal portions on her left side, right and her back, then froze as the realization struck her: this wasn’t going to work. This method relied on her approaching the braid from both sides at once with two hands. Prisha felt panic rising within her once more, the same she had felt at Ruby’s words as she informed her of what had happened to her arm. The same she experienced as she watched Dana and Marie be taken away while the rest of her group bled to death on the cliffside. No. Don’t let yourself go back there. She would find a new way to braid her hair. Standing up, Prisha walked over to where she’d laid the brush on the desk. Perhaps she could use it as some sort of placeholder, a bookmark while she shifted her good arm to the next position. This could work. The panic subsided as she once again began to undertake the task of braiding her hair. It was soon replaced with anger however as the brush quickly proved itself ineffectual. It would either slide out of the place she wanted it to be or get tangled in the hair it was meant to hold. After a few rounds, the brush became particularly snarled within her hair. Prisha tried to pry it out gently, then grew angry, swinging her hair back and forth. Her crippled arm immediately retaliated with an absolutely debilitating pain, causing Prisha to cry out and crumple in half from the pain. The brush clanged against the metal bedpost and fell uselessly to the ground. “Prisha? Are you OK?”

She heard the door open and immediately straightened up, casting a venomous glare at the treacherous brush. The corners of her eyes stung with tears she was too furious to shed. “What’s wrong?” It was Violet’s voice. She was the one who had carried Prisha back to the school, the girl who had saved her life. For her to come at this of all times was utterly humiliating. Prisha let out a harsh sigh. “I asked Ruby for a brush since after three weeks in a braid my hair looks like it belongs to a mongoose. Silly me though, I forgot that I would need two hands to rebraid my hair, just like I need two fucking hands for everything in this goddamn world!” Prisha felt her chest heaving as her emotions swelled. Damnit, she couldn’t let herself fall apart now! “Y’know what? I can braid your hair. I may not know a fucking thing about hair care, but it’s just a braid, right?” Violet bent down to pick up the brush. “You can sit down on the chair or the bed and I’ll get it done,” Prisha felt dazed. In the midst of all the chaos, she’d been repressing her emotions for weeks now. Having them all come out at once like this was proving taxing. Shakily, she nodded then sat down on the bed facing the closet, pulling her legs up against her chest and wrapping her right arm around them, her left cradled uselessly by her side. She had to make sure she didn’t jostle it. One more bout of pain might be too much for her to manage. She could hear Violet crawl on top of the mattress and sit behind her. To greet that childish outburst with an offer of help… these Ericson survivors really were something else. In all her years on the road, Prisha had only met a handful of people who would offer a stranger a hand. They tended to be those who’d been denied the same kindness in the past and did not wish that suffering to fall on another. From the burn marks on Violet’s face, Prisha wondered if the same story held true for her. Violet hadn’t moved yet. “Umm, remind me of the first step,” Prisha felt a smile weakly tug at her lips. Of course the art of braiding’s been lost with the apocalypse. Everyone else had the sense to cut their hair short. “You need to separate my hair into three equal sections,” “Right,” She could feel Violet touching her hair, so gently it almost felt like she wasn’t there. Prisha wondered if Violet was worried about hurting her. Considering that the purplish bruising of her arm travelled far above her bandages, it was a valid concern. Violet was certainly gentler than Prisha than she’d been with herself in her efforts to untangle her hair. Violet had stilled again. “Do you need the next step?” “Uh, yeah,” “Start with the section on the left side and cross it over the middle section. Then take the right section and cross it the other way, then bring the middle section over. Then just keep repeating those motions,” ��Alright. Here goes nothing,” It was sweet of Violet to be attempting something she was clearly uncomfortable with. Prisha could hear her whisper a cuss as one section of her hair slipped out of her grasp. She was such a fascinating person. Prisha hadn’t thought much of her in the months since their first meeting, but the same traits that had stood out in Violet then were present here as well: tenacity and tenderheartedness. The two qualities tended to be mutually exclusive after the world ended. Either you were soft and died or you were hard and survived. It was exceedingly rare for someone to embody both within themselves. Prisha suddenly realized how quite she was being. She’d been so drawn into the peacefulness of the moment she hadn’t considered that her terseness might be unsettling. Awkwardly, she cleared her throat. “Did you used to have longer hair… before?” “When I was little. My grandma used to put it in braids whenever she took me to church. I hated it,” Violet paused and quickly back tracked. “Not that braids are bad! Just on me. She did them so tight,” It was cute how quickly she’d corrected herself. As if anyone had time to be offended by braiding preferences in the apocalypse. “My mother braided my hair when I was little, but she taught me how to do it myself from a pretty young age. She said that braided hair was a sign of dignity for a woman.” Prisha reached up a hand, fiddling with a stray strand by her face. “I know it would be more practical for me to cut it, but something just stops me each time I consider it. Who knows. Maybe it’s just my way of saying fuck the walkers and fuck this entire shitty world. They can take a lot from me, but how I do my hair is still my own fucking choice. I may not control what I eat or where I sleep or…” She took a shaky breath. “Or the well-being of my own body, but dammnit, I still have my hair,” Damn, way to monologue, Prisha. “That’s sorta badass,” Prisha snorted. “Thanks, I guess. Everything’s going to shit and here I am being Indian Rapunzel,” “It works on you,” “Thanks,” Prisha felt a bit of warmth growing in her chest at the reiterated compliment. Violet didn’t strike her as the type to give compliments lightly. She should know better than to brush her words off. Prisha turned slightly so she could look back at Violet who was earnestly focusing on the braiding process. “You know, I can see why you hated them. The braids, I mean. Your hair looks good short,” “If by ‘good’ you mean ‘looks like some hay that a cow shit on’ then yeah, I guess it looks good,” Prisha scoffed. “No, it’s not like that at all. It looks like… y’know that tall grass that grows beside rivers? The kind with those wheat kernels on the end that you can’t eat? Then autumn comes and they turn this warm, light gold tone and just sway back and forth in the breeze…. Your hair is like that,” Shit, that sounded super gay. She hoped she hadn’t just freaked Violet out. “Your braid is done,” Violet draped it over Prisha’s right shoulder. “Thank you,” Prisha said, fiddling with the tail end of the braid. Not bad at all for a first attempt. “You got it perfect. Not too tight,” She turned around on the bed, leaning against the wall. “Sorry you had to come into the middle of my tantrum. Was there something you needed from me?” “Dishes,” Violet answered abruptly. “Omar wanted me to bring your dishes down if you were done with them,” “Oh, yes, of course. Could you tell him thank you for me? His cooking is seriously amazing. The best I’ve had in years,” “He’ll be happy to hear that,” Violet reached out to grab the small pile of dishes, moving backwards toward the door. “I’ll leave so you can sleep now,” Dang it. She shouldn’t have asked Violet what she came in for. “Alright. And Violet?” “Yeah?” Prisha found herself looking out of the boarded-up window, unable to meet the eyes of the girl who’d just helped her for fear of her voice cracking with emotion as she spoke. “Thank you. For dropping by. It helped,” “Anytime,” With that, Violet was out the door and Prisha was alone again. Well, there wasn’t anything else to be done tonight. Her hair was fixed and the tension in her body had finally dissipated enough that she felt she could sleep. Blowing out the candle by her bedside, Prisha lay down on her bed. Her future was still unclear, a fact that terrified her to her very core. But for the first time since she’d lost the use of her arm, lost her group, lost everything… for a few minutes things had been pleasant. Perhaps all was not lost just yet. She needed to stay practical and be prepared for the worst, but the people at Ericson hadn’t kicked her out yet. Maybe, just maybe they wouldn’t? It was too much to think of right now. With a sigh, Prisha closed her eyes, waiting for sleep to take her. She was glad that Violet had dropped by tonight. She’d given Prisha something she thought she had lost: the comfort of knowing she was not alone.

[doomedandstoned]

Devilish Acid Doomers LáGoon Reveal The “Father of Death”

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

Review by Billy Goate, with Stephanie Savenkoff

Some days you just need a good swift kick in the pants to get the week going. Portland acid doomers LAGOON got you covered with 'Father of Death' (2020). It's the band's second album so far this year, marking an especially prolific period for the Portland band. Hell, we just got through reviewing and debuting 'Maa Kali Trip' (2020) back in March. Indeed, the band reminds us, "There aren’t rules to this shit, despite what anyone may tell you. We figure, release the music as you make it. Two full lengths in 3 months, why not?" You won't hear any objections coming from this end, fellas.

The new spin also witnesses LáGoon’s core transformation from duo to trio, something which has obvious ramifications for their sound. Featured on this effort is bassest Ignacio De Tommaso of Luciferica, and Argentinian band we heaved profuse praise upon during a recent episode of The Doomed & Stoned Show. "Same skate rat doom sound," LaGoon assures fans, "just in louder form."

The bass is the first thing that hits us with a wallop straight away in the title track. When I learned that Doomed & Stoned's tireless Portland photographer Stephanie Savenkoff was likewise immersing herself in the new LáGoon album, I asked if I could share her notes. "Great fuzzy beginning," she observes. "Repetitive and trancey." The song appears to be about a godlike figure who holds the power of death in his long, boney hands. Singer Anthony Gaglia personifies him with appropriate dramatics. "Love that sneer!" Stephanie adds "Reminds me of Billy Corgan."

"Resuscitation" by contrast is "stripped down" with a "peaceful opening. Simple but moving." Were I to match the music with a narrative, it would be of someone awakening from a near-death experience -- or simply from blacking out, as I once did in a local grocery store (took down a whole shelf of Gatorade with me, too). Waking up from that otherwise peaceful step out of consciousness was a blurry, surreal ordeal. Soon, the unreality of it all came flooding back and I struggled to make sense of the events leading up to it. I imagine this is doubly so in the case of an NDE. Thus, we move from the serene to the stormy as the patient is resuscitated. Stephanie notes its "surfy center, energizing," and hints at Spanish rhythms with one final word: "Bandito!"

A "simple, mellow riff" begins "Bloodied Mouth," then "builds and intensifies," Stephanie suggests, offering us a "cool spark at the end." I can't help loving that Brady Maurer rhythm. His drumming makes this fundamental rock 'n' roll, the kind you wanna really twist to -- LaGoon's trademark menacing twist, that is.

Speaking of all things sinister, "Broken Oath," is "creepy and funereal" Stephanie says, an atmosphere conjured in no small part by guest keyboardist Adam Scott of Thunderbird Divine, who makes effective use of the Mellotron. We also hear, I believe, two sets of vocals, which I'm fairly certain is Ignacio De Tommaso's or one of his compadres.

"Soft, sweet, gentle, intense, beautiful, dark." Those were the words that converged with Stephanie's stream of consciousness for "Stab & Cut." Lyrically, it feels full of alienation and the need to protect oneself from the many enemies of happiness, some of which are more insistent than others in taking away our roadmap. Thankfully, there's still that trusty van to get us over the winds and dips of the road ahead.

As we might expect from an album conceived in quarantine, parts were recorded separately by various members of the band during lockdown, then mixed and mastered by Anthony himself. I'd say he did a damn fine job of it, with the usual low-fi ethic in play.

And now, Doomed & Stoned is pleased to bring you the title track from Father of Death, which emerges June 19th and can be pre-ordered here.

Give ear...

An Interview with LáGoon Frontman Anthony Gaglia

By Billy Goate

LáGoon is now, what, four, five years old?

Just approaching 4 years!

Hellll yeah.

It’s been a good run!

What was the last show you played before the Great Lockdown of 2020?

Took me a second to remember it’s been so long! Our last gig was March 6th alongside fellow PNWers Grim Earth, Sorcia, and Ravine!

Right on. I think Stephanie Savenkoff may have been there to snap some pics that night.

She was, indeed; always great to see her at our shows!

You've got some big things happening this month, right?

We do! Our last album, MAA KALI TRIP, has finally made its way out of the record plant (pusher back due to Covid) so this Friday it will be available for purchase, and then the Friday after that we’ll be releasing our new album Father of Death!

Listening to that opening track on ‘Father of Death’ (2020) you can tell something is different. The bass just jumps out at you with bold ferocity! You’ve got a new member? Please introduce us.

Hell yeah! The man behind that thunderous tone on the record is Ignacio De Tommaso of the band Luciferica. Ignacio and I have been collaborating on some music for the past few months, so when it came time to lay down bass on the record he was the perfect man for the job!

What was it like to jam with a third person after being a duo for so long?

Refreshing! At first being in a two piece was great because I had just left a 5 piece band, and that was a headache. But after being the two of us for a while, it feels great to have someone else on board so I can play some solos and overall broaden what I can get away with playing!

Do you feel any urgency to expand your number in real life when the bars and concert halls open up again along the West Coast?

Definitely. I want to start playing these new songs in their entirety as soon as things open up. I really feel like this album is the new sound of LáGoon, and I’d hate to step backwards for live shows.

How would you describe LaGoon’s core sound and approach to heavy music?

It’s hard for me to describe, but I think the most important piece of LáGoon’s sound is that we’re really not concerned with fitting under one particular label. We all listen to a variety of music, and I think that comes through in the music. Our biggest concern is keeping things fun and fresh for us, and we’ve just been blessed that some people seem to really dig it!

What styles of music would you say you draw the most inspiration from?

Those are constantly changing, but going into this album I was listening to a lot of 90s bands like Sonic Youth, The Pixies, The Melvins, and The Butthole Surfers. Which are bands I come back to time and time again. There’s something about the music that was made in the late '80s to early '90s that has a ‘I don’t give a fuck’ rawness to it. Anything that sounds like it was labored over isn’t the vibe for me.

Is it just me or do I feel a kind of chill surfer vibe thing going on, too? It's probably just me.

You’re not wrong! I think that comes from the type of people we are, or the amount of weed I consume haha. It’s pretty hard to get any of us upset, and so I think that there’s definitely elements of that in our music.

Right on. How have the last 3-4 months of shutdown and lockdown affected you and the people around you?

It was pretty hectic at first. I haven’t been working since the shutdown, so financially it’s definitely been a struggle. My mom and sister are both nurses as well so it’s been pretty scary to hear about all the madness in their hospitals. Overall, I’m happy to be living in the city and state I’m living in. Everyone I know has taken it seriously and that’s refreshing!

That's awesome to hear. Well, on a positive note, maybe take a few moments to tell us about the new album and walk us through all five tracks?

Would love to! This album largely came about because of all the free time I’ve had over the quarantine. As we mentioned before this is our first album as a three piece. I made that decision going into the album, so most of the tracks feature guitar solos and other elements we couldn’t pull off as a two piece.

FATHER OF DEATH

"Father of Death" is the first track on the record and the title track for the album. It sets the pace for the album with a driving tempo and the introduction of the bass as part of our sound. The song is about the grim reaper, a character that regularly surfaced in LáGoon songs.

RESUSCITATION

"Resuscitation" is the song that is just that for this band. It’s the first song of ours that couldn’t be played without the bass, and brings a new life and sound to the band. It’s also one of our longest songs and has multiple tempo changes.

BROKEN OATH

"Broken Oath" features another friend and label mate of ours Adam Scott of the band Thunderbird Divine on keys and melotron. This is one of the heavier songs on the album, and tells the story of a man cheating on his wife with a prostitute.

BLOODIED MOUTH

"Bloodied Mouth" is the most danceable of the album. This song was written at the beginning of the COVID crisis when everything first shut down. I felt a little beat down, and this song is what came out.

STAB & CUT

"Stab & Cut" is probably the furthest from any of the other songs we’ve written. I wrote it as an acoustic guitar song years ago and had forgotten about it. For some reason I played it on my electric guitar one day while I was recording other songs for the album and it brought new life to it.

That’s all of 'em!

Cool, thanks for sharing that! What instruments and gear are you working with these days?

I’ve had the same Orange CR120 head and Marshall 4x12 since the formation of the band! For a short period I was playing split through that and a bass amp, but now that we’re a three piece I’m back down to the Orange through the 4x12 and I have one distortion pedal that I more or less just use as boost. We’re lucky enough to have a deal with Baxter guitars so that’s all I play and we’re hoping to get a Baxter bass on stage soon!

First Coronavirus, then Lockdown, Recession, and Social Unrest. Any predictions on what the second half of 2020 holds in store?

I have no idea, but what I hope for is serious social reform at the federal level, a new fuckin’ president, and the return of live music. I may be asking for too much though. (laughs)

Sounds like you're just itching to get back on stage again and belt out these new tunes for a real live audience!

Absolutely! My wife is getting sick of hearing me play by myself! (laughs)

Right on, man. Well we hope to see you soon, so we'll keep our fingers crossed for a bright close to the year. Thanks so much for chatting with Doomed & Stoned!

Hell yeah, man! We appreciate your continued support. See ya out there. Stay healthy, and stay heavy!

Follow The Band

Get Their Music

[bluesakurablossom]

Bad Girl, Bad Girl What You Going To Do? Leo x Reader

Finally after a long day of work, her shift finally ended. Eight hours today of running back and forth making every dog at the resort was getting their playtime and doing small jobs on the side was a bit tiring, but at least it was good pay. She loved her new job and was looking forward to her next shift. Clocking out and grabbing her coat and purse, she made her way back to the parking lot to her car to head back home. Working full time while going to school full time did feel like overload sometimes to her, but at least she had this weekend to relax and unwind. Her lover and handsome boyfriend should be getting off his night shift pretty soon. Since coming to know the police Leonardo had taken up into becoming a patrol officer as well as keeping the role for the ninja team, he figured he could do more good being both. 

She had to admit he did look rather sexy in a police uniform when he came back home after a long night. But she was proud that he was taking on this opportunity, it gave her the feeling of happiness that he was accepted into the world and showing that no matter who you are and what you look like, you can do good for the world. 

Getting into her car she drove off into the night taking the long route home, it was just a nice night to open up the sunroof of her car to feel the cool breeze come through. It was just starting to get nice outside and wanted to enjoy it while she could. Driving down the nearly deserted highway to head to the home where she and her lover shared together, she was looking forward to being able to catch up with her man and have a romantic time with him. Since they both worked full time and with her going to school on top of that, schedules can get pretty hectic, but they made the best when possible. 

Nothing seemed to have ruined her drive home. The wind blowing against her hair and her favorite music station going, it was a great way to unwind and distress. Nothing was going to ruin her good mood. She noticed in her rear view mirror that a slick car was traveling behind her, she didn’t think much about it and continued to sing along to one of her favorite songs. But traveling further and further down the road to where it was almost pitch black out with barely any light coming from the lampposts, she noticed the car was still behind her. Still not thinking anything of it she shrugged, but her stomach dropped and her heart beat quickened seeing red and blue flashing lights come on with high flashing headlights blinding her view in front of her.

“Oh shit! Seriously?!”, she said, slowing down immediately “Not good”

She slowed down her speed and begin to pull her vehicle over to the side of the road as both cars came to a stop. “Damn it, man I can’t believe this”, she said, throwing her head back in frustration

This is not what she had in mind. Her mind was wondering on what she had did wrong. She had her seat belt on, she wasn’t on her phone, she was going the right speed, and she knows good and well that her tags were up to date. What on earth could she be being pulled over for?

She turned off her car and had both hands on the stirring wheel, looking in the mirror waiting for the officer to exit the patrol car. Wait? Something about that car looked familiar to her and when she saw the door open and someone step out, the tall muscular shadow seemed to have cause her mind to recognize it. But when she saw his arms go up to adjust something behind his head and saw the three fingers, she couldn’t help but sigh and smirk shaking her head. 

She knew he would of done this sooner or later. This was going to be a fun game to play. 

She slid off her jacket before pulling up her work shirt revealing a dark blue tank top and pushed her breasts up in her bra. She shook her head around making her curly hair fall into a perfect natural position before applying some lip gloss to her lips and sprayed some cherry blossom perfume over her neck and body. “Alright Leo, two can play at that game”, she said, with a giggle

She saw the shadow come over and knock on her window. She literally had to bite the inside of her lip to keep herself from laughing. He was now next to her as he let his knuckles tap a few times on the window. She rolled it down looking up to officer with a coy smile. “Hello there officer”, she said, with a slight blush

Damn he looked so sexy in that uniform, it fit him so well and, it showed off a lot of masculinity and the way his muscular tattooed arms that were leaning above her, made her heart beat faster. He pulled off his black shades giving the young woman a grin shining a flashlight on her that made her skin glow under the light. “Well hello there to you madam”, he said “Any idea why I pulled you over tonight?”

“Not a clue, I mean after all I didn’t break any law”, she said, in an innocent tone “I have no idea why I am being pulled over”

His smirk seemed to have made her more giggly inside as she struggled to contain her blushing. “Why don’t you show me your license, registration and insurance first before I tell you why”, he said

She smirked at him, she kept everything she needed right in the glove compartment and knew how to start her game. “Sure thing....sir”, she said, unbuckling her seat belt 

She got up on her knees to reach over to get what she needed to retrieve, even though it was right there in plain sight, she pretended to struggle to find it. “Where the heck did I put that?”, she asked, in a giggly voice

He kept the light shined on her and she heard a low rumble from his chest, the kind that she knew all too well. Soon as she was about to reach for her registration and getting her license out of her purse, she felt a hand grope her butt and she couldn’t help moan moving up and down to his intimate touch. His hand move down her thigh giving it a squeeze making her let out a sigh of content and soon it moved inside getting close to her aching sex. His fingers barely flying over it making her shudder and grip the passenger seat tightly with her fingers. She didn’t want him to stop, it was already so overwhelming, but his hand had left her aching body without the satisfaction it wanted. She was able to regain her breath before she sat back down handing him everything. He flipped over everything giving a few nods before he shined the flashlight back on her. “You just wait right here, don’t move”, he said, his voice pierced her like an arrow 

He left her side and went back to the car. She felt the pool of desire heat up quickly in her core to the point where it was painful. She was anticpating what his next move was going to be, but she knew he was playing hard to get. Something he did sometimes to tease her and it would send her over the edge. He played a very smooth game and he knew how to push her buttons. After a few more moments, he came back over shining the light on her again, oh the way his chest puffs in and out with each breath he took, it was so hot it made her become breathless. “Mam I ran your record and I need you to step out of the car for me”, he said

“Oh? Well okay”, she said, with cocking her eyebrows up as she opened the door to step right into his space giving him a passionate smile

“Turn around and put your hands on top of the car”, he whispered into her ear

She willingly complied slowly turning around and his warm firm hands began to move along her body. He closed the space quickly pushing his own body against her backside till there was barely any room for her to move around. “You have weapons or items that might hurt me on you?”, he asked, whispering in her ear, licking and sucking along the lobe, as he let his hands rub her sides and over her belly

A sigh escaped her lips and she could feel her knees starting to buckle. “N-no, but I might have something that might bring you delight”, she whispered, breathing quickly

He let his hands go down her hips, giving her ass a good slap before moving back up in the front. One hand held firmly against her lower back while the other started to sneak its way down past inside her pants to where it was now stroking and rubbing at her already wet sex. “Oh and just what is this?”, he asked

“My god”, she said, moaning loudly, her head was leaning back 

“And what might this be?”, he asked, again

“I think we both know good and well it is”, she said, looking behind him, as he slid a finger inside of her and begin to pump her with her hips following his rhythm

“Well then”, he said, pulling his hand out from inside her as he took both of her wrists from the car, gripping them with one hand

She knew what was happening next, and couldn’t be more excited. He opened the back car door of her car. He pulled her back before pushing her in, to laying on the back seat. She turned over on her back and before she could do anything else he was on top of her pinning her arms above her head. “You mam have been a very bad girl”, he said, showing her a pair of handcuffs 

He took her wrists clipping the braces to one wrist before wrapping it under the handle of the door and clipping her other wrist to it, restraining her. “You are under arrest”, he said, as she tugged on the restraints, she couldn’t move at all

“On what charge? You got nothing on me”, she said, looking at him with a teasing look shaking her head 

“For breaking the newest law”, he said, unbuttoning his shirt throwing it down on the car floor

“And what law might that be?”, she asked, licking her lower lip giving it a bite

Damn his body was a masterpiece, she could stare at it all day long never to blink. “Well according to this law”, he said, starting to undo her pants lifting her hips up to remove them to join the shirt

The cool air coming from the sun roof against her already hot skin was unbearable and she was begging to have him. She wanted him so badly. “Made and approved by yours truly”, he said, unbuttoning her shirt letting it slide open and unclipping her bra, letting her sore breasts bounce open 

He took one breast suckling on her perked nipple she moaned and whimpered as his hot tongue rolled repeatedly over the skin, releasing it with a pop before doing the same to other. “Its illegal to for a woman such as yourself to be this beautiful and sexy”, he said, as he kissed down her belly letting his tongue lap up the taste of her skin, causing her back to arch up whimpering for more of his touch 

“Well can’t you just let me off with a warning?”, she asked, fluttering her eyelashes at him 

“I am afraid I can’t do that mam, its my duty of the law”, he said, starting to slide down his pants to reveal his hard erection

He climbed over the top of her tugging on her restraints to make sure she was secured. “You have the right, no you better remain silent”, he said, giving her passionate kiss “Anything you say or do, will cause me to punish you”

“I have my rights, you can’t take that away from me”, she said, mocking him

“Well then have it your way”, he said, pulling her by the leg smacking her butt before pulling her legs over his shoulders, making her whimper

He pushed her back as far as her legs could beside her legs before he teased his aching erection against her before shoving it inside of her causing her to gasp loud with delight. His length stretching her to her limits how he always does, made her moan and groan uncontrollably as he continued his pace going deeper and deeper inside of her. His hands squeezed at her breasts to where her nipples perked their way in between his fingers as he let his lips locked on to hers, silencing her cries of pleasure. The car itself begin to rock slightly from the amount of force he was putting into her as she could barely contain herself. “Don’t stop”, she said, begging looking up to his blue crystal eyes

“Don’t resist me, cum for me my beautiful angel”, he said, picking up the pace

She began to scream in delight as he let himself slam against her again and again, feeling him repeatedly hit her spot. Her eyes shut tight as he arched her back up to him, making the orgasm build up stronger and faster with each thrust, to the point where she could no longer contain. She released with a cry of delight as he groaned slowing down as she panted for breath. He turned her head to face him as they kissed each other desperately. “I love you”, he said, with a loving smile

“I love you too”, she said, as they reunited lips again

He unlocked the cuffs from the door as she stretched her arms to rid of the ache as you both started to get dressed back into your clothes with him sliding out of her car with her following behind him. “I should misbehave more often, it feels good to be a bad girl”, she said, with flirt in her voice

“Mmmmm maybe you should”, he said, bringing her back into another passionate kiss “Now drive home safe, I still have to get you booked”

He cocked an eyebrow making you giggle and smirk. “Well I will be sure to give you my best mugshot”, you said, giving his chest a pat and kiss on the cheek, as you got back into your car driving home

Oh it wasn’t over yet but you would be looking forward to it. Your bad behavior wasn’t going to get away easy, not with your boy in blue on the job. 

[badboys-imagines]

Professor

Pairing : Loki, Reader

PART VI

Last chapter : Y/N got drunk and out of control. Warned by Jane, Loki came to her rescue…

Summary : Y/N, a student, and Loki, a professor, attend the same wedding. They don’t realize they could meet again.

WARNING : Smut

A/N : I was listening to Helplessly Hoping by Crosby, Stills Nash when I wrote this. I definitely love that song.

Y/L/N : Your Last Name

The first sunbeams were lighting up the sky when Y/N slowly opened her eyes. The room was warm and she could have slept for hours if she hadn’t noticed it wasn’t actually her room.

What the hell…

The young girl abruptly sat on the bed, still dizzy as she made huge efforts to remember what she was doing here. Pressing her fingers against her temples, she was startled by a voice.

‘’Good morning.’’

Y/N’s eyes widened, the source of the sound leading her gaze to the door. Oh god, it couldn’t be. She gasped, shocked as she saw him.

“Didn’t you sleep well ?” A white shirt and blue jeans replaced Loki’s usual black suit and she realized she’d never seen him without it. Still devastatingly gorgeous, he opened the curtains and gave her one of his famous grins.

He took a few steps closer and sat on the edge of the mattress, causing her to pull the sheets against her chest. It took Loki a moment to understand what had crossed her mind. “Oh, you’re the one who assaulted me yesterday night, Y/N.”

“Alright…’’ she huffed, ‘’Did we…”

Obviously offended, Loki shifted, a peevish frown crossing his face. “Oh dear, you really don’t remember anything about last night.”

Heat flooded her cheeks as she sucked in a short breath. It was enough to spark a wave of panic and she tried to stand up.

“Oh no, no, no. You don’t want to get up.” Loki clamped his long fingers around her wrist in an attempt to dissuade her from standing, but Y/N shot him an accusing glance. “I do want to get up thanks, I’m a big girl, Professor.”

Loki looked away, releasing his grip on her arm as she almost shouted at him. When Y/N finally managed to get out of the bed and finally stood up, the cool air came caressing her bare skin. The only thing she hadn’t taken account of was her lack of clothes.

“Holy shit !” she swore, falling back on the bed and swiftly pulling the sheets back against her breasts as she tried to hide her nudity.

Still looking away, Loki couldn’t keep a laughter. To the satisfied smile on his face, she could say he was enjoying the situation. Explosively fulminating, Y/N leaned forward and repeatedly punched his arm.

‘’How dare you ? Why would you take my clothes off ? Fuck you, I was drunk Loki, drunk !’’ She yelled.

Loki moved back, exasperation clear on his face, ’’Y/N, stop. Enough !’’ he grabbed her wrists, seriousness written on his features, ‘’You vomited on your dress, I just helped you taking it off.’’

She instantly stopped.

Oh. That wasn’t glamour, at all.

Y/N stared at him in disbelief, completely ashamed. However, stubborn as she was, she couldn’t help but throw another displeasing comment.

‘’Normal guys cover the girl with one of their shirts.’’ She grumbled.

Rolling his eyes, Loki beckoned her to look behind. She took a glance at the pillow he was pointing next to her. A wrinkled shirt was resting there, wide open. Memories started to flash in her head. Had she really… Oh god, yes. She’d taken it off.

‘’You said I assaulted you ?’’ Y/N whispered, shame keeping her from talking louder. Loki slowly nodded, his icy gaze piercing her soul.

Now she remembered. The stupid drunken girl she was had literally tried to kiss him against his will. Fuck… Burying her face into her hands, Y/N tried to push the memories and the words she’d spoken away. Did I really… As she tried to make sense of all this, Y/N grabbed the shirt next to her and put it on. Absently buttoning it, she suddenly opened wide eyes.

‘’Did we…’’

An incredulous smile crossed Loki’s lips and he chuckled, ‘’I’m not quite into rape and helpless women, Y/N.’’ Standing up, his eyes roamed around, ’’How do you feel ?’’ He finally asked, changing the subject.

Scratching the back of her head, Y/N cringed at the pain that spread to her forehead, ’’Sober, I guess…’’

‘’Very well,’’ Loki mumbled, ‘’Because there comes your punishment.’’

I had almost forgotten that…

He waved a paper in front of her, his eyes sparkling with victory. Y/N immediately recognized what he was holding and she groaned. 

‘’You don’t want your parents to know what you were doing last night Miss Y/L/N.’’

Smart ass, hm.

A sigh escaped her mouth as he placed the form on her knees, handing her a pen. She hesitantly took it and lowered her head towards the paper, her eyes quickly skimming through the lines.

‘’I hate you, Loki Laufeyson.’’ She murmured, tapping the pen against her chin.

When she looked up at him, a grin had spread on his face.

Oh, damn you, trickster.

That did it. Y/N grabbed a pillow and hit him as hard as she could. Loki’s eyes darkened, his smile fading away as he managed to grab her hands. Their gazes met. Noticing his solemn face, the young girl rolled her eyes. Always so serious…

Taking advantage of his tight grip, Y/N slid her leg between his and he tripped on it, falling right over her on the bed. A giggle escaped her throat as he laughed. That sound, that smile. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

They suddenly calmed down, and the young girl came back to her senses as she seemed to realize Loki was hovering over her. Amusement replaced with a strange sensation she’d already felt before. Oh, dear lord.

Her heart started hammering in her chest and she was pretty sure he could hear it from where he was. She licked her lips, her body tensing with anticipation. The sound of his raspy breathing echoed off the walls, causing her to gasp. She felt it, again. But what about him ?

“Were you… being serious ?” She whispered, their faces so close it instantly made her blush.

These feelings, his scent, his eyes… The passion inundated her, barely allowing her to breathe.

Not answering, Loki stared at the young girl for a moment and she stuttered, ‘’A-about the T.A thing.’’

Her rib cage pressed flush against Loki’s chest, Y/N’s desire ramped skyward. Out of nervousness, she inadvertently moved her hips under his. Unable to hide her crimson cheeks, Y/N just turned her head, avoiding his green emeralds.

‘’Are you going to stop squirming ?’’ The tone of his voice seduced away her inhibitions but she stopped for a second, finally laying eyes on him. As soon as they made eye contact, the young girl thoughtlessly continued with her nervous struggle; unintentionally rubbing her breasts against him, not to mention what her thighs were grinding.

Loki’s mouth silently opened, taking a short shallow breath, ‘’Y/N, if you’re trying to flirt, I do say it’s working. If not, I suggest you stop what you’re doing.’’

She immediately stilled and it registered the effect she had on him. Feeling somewhat frustrated, Y/N shyly blinked, cautiously avoiding his deep gaze. Blood rushing to her head, her heart was about to explode. She closed her eyes as to calm down her arousal.

A short silence fell between them until she felt his lips softly pressing against her cheek, causing her to open her eyes. Her heart then skipped a beat.

Slightly out of breath, they gazed into each other’s eyes.

Silently staring at her, Loki had brought his face closer, his lips only a few inches from hers. The tip of his nose rubbed against her soft skin and Y/N’s pupils flared, her pulse leaping at the base of her throat. Oh, god.

‘’Aren’t you tired of keeping me away ?’’ Loki whispered, his hot breath burning her lips.

The tone of his voice sent a molten spark to the flesh between her legs. An ache throbbed into life there and she tried to clench her thighs to hold it off. ‘’I can’t… I just can’t be your T.A.’’ she sighed, but her legs were already spreading of their own accord, making a space for him at the innermost core of her. Trailing kisses along her neck, Loki slowly glided his hands down her naked thighs. ‘’Are you sure ?’’ He mouthed against her bare skin, sending delicious shivers down her spine.

Moans and whimpers fell from her mouth and Y/N’s body hummed from his tender touch as he kissed parts of her she didn’t think were possible to be aroused.

She’d missed him. Oh, how she’d missed him.

She could have fled right now. Avoiding another heartbreak would have been easy, right ? But she wanted him. Above everything else, she needed to know how he felt about them. The answer was slowly being given to her, and yet she had to be sure.

Loki’s hand slowly came up, unbuttoning the first buttons of her shirt. Here, he allowed his fingers to run along the soft skin of her chest until he registered the frantic beat of her heart through the lacy material that covered her breasts.

I shouldn’t do this…

Fighting the powerful surge of desire, Y/N desperately called up mental images, anything to get her errant body back under control. But everything led to him. Her insomnias, university, nothing could distract her from Loki’s expert touch.

Suddenly, his hand palmed her breasts, instantly drawing a high pitched and uncontrolled moan from her throat. Where his fingers touched, all was fire. A fire that threatened to devour her as he undid several other buttons.

Hands shaking, Y/N’s body was needing and claiming the touch of skin on skin. She squirmed on the mattress again, as if she was trying to escape and Loki pinned her against it, forcing her to face her own lust.

The need to touch him back almost drove her to the point of madness and she splayed a hand across his chest, only to notice his heartbeat was insanely irregular.

They were both panting and craving each other when their gazes locked again. They caught their breath in silence, wondering what to do, how to deal with these impossible emotions.

Without saying a word, Loki pressed his forehead against Y/N’s and she closed her eyes. In an instinctive and tender gesture, the tip of her nose gently rubbed against his, encouraging him to continue.

Loki brought his lips closer, enough for them to brush against Y/N’s mouth. Then he finally kissed her. Deeply, passionately, twining his tongue with hers in a sinuous dance that ignited fires of response all the way to her core.

Oh Lord.

This kiss was enough to banish the last barriers standing between them. Loki hastily got rid of his clothes, lips still caressing, kissing and loving hers. He then threw her shirt on the floor, leaving only a tiny band of lace around her hips.

The young girl knew a sudden moment of shyness as it came back to her mind that Loki was now her Professor. They weren’t drunk. There was no excuse for what they were doing. But she desired him and the thought was enough to dispel her fears.

Loki’s fingers softly tugged at the last piece of cloth she was wearing, ‘’This, too.’’ He demanded.

Her eyes timidly looked for his, heart racing as she blushed. At the sight of his dominant gaze, Y/N tossed her head back, defying him.

Loki’s eyes narrowed, ‘’Well, well, what do we have here…’’ he tutted.

He didn’t bother adding anything, but lifted her body, carrying her until he was able to set her down on a desk that stood in the corner of the room. The wood felt cold against her skin and multiple goose bumps appeared on her thighs as Loki’s hands traveled along them.

As he ripped the tiny scrap of lace from her hips, Y/N gasped, her heart skipping a beat. Loki’s fingers slid between her thighs, spreading them softly. She’d never felt so exposed in front of anyone.

What was to come made Y/N melt. Every part of her begged for his touch. Forgetting her shyness, the young girl abruptly pulled him closer and she kept her gaze locked with his dreamy eyes as she freed his manhood, causing him to gasp.

However, Loki wasn’t about to put her out of her misery yet.

Linking her arms around his neck, Y/N found his lips again, eyes closed as she kissed him. The anticipation had her soaked and panting when Loki’s finger came caressing her most intimate spot.

Her mouth opened against his, her breathing coming harshly as his fingertip teased and brushed against the little nub, offering her the most torturous experience she’d ever endured.

Moans of pleasure started to come out of her mouth and he silenced her with a fierce kiss, covering the sounds of pleasure born into her throat.

The pleasure almost verged on pain as he explored her external sensitive spots, tracing lazy circles against her bare skin until she wanted to cry out with an unbearable need to be filled by him.

Slowly then, Loki parted her labia and his teeth sank into Y/N's earlobe, forcing a whimper of pleasure from her mouth.

‘’Oh, good girl,’’ he purred.

Not giving her a chance to relax though, Loki dipped a finger between her wet folds. ‘’This will do nicely.’’ He cooed and Y/N closed her eyes, unable to meet his intense green gaze.

Without warning, he added another finger, stroking her walls with firm pressure and she felt her internal muscles contracting, tensing with pleasure until he withdrew them. ‘’No…’’ she desperately sighed, frustration tightening her muscles.

Nibbling her earlobe, Loki spoke impossibly calmly,

‘’Are you going to fill in this application, Miss Y/L/N ?’’

As she wasn’t giving him the answer he wanted, Loki grabbed her shaking legs and splayed them wide, putting her on display for him. A new pressure on her fold caused her eyes to dart open. As the tip of his hardness glided smoothly inside, Y/N felt her walls stretched to their maximum and her mouth opened, releasing a soundless gasp.

Loki’s fingers dug into her skin as he fought his own moans of pleasure. With a deep, slow thrust, his full length reached her fleshy limit. He didn’t wait for her to recover and began to thrust hard, hitting every single sensitive spot inside her.

Electric bolts of heat shot from her head to toes and she fisted his long dark hair, her other hand gripping his shoulder. As he slammed into her, Y/N found his lips and pulled him into an extended kiss. Every pore of her skin claiming his touch, the young girl couldn’t take it anymore.

A wave of intense pleasure rushed through her, clenching and deliciously twisting her insides. The fire burning her core suddenly erupting, ripples of emotion streaked across Y/N’s face. Loki’s thrust became slower, but harder, deeper, until he groaned, muttering nonsense against her lips and holding her tighter.

As he rode out his release, Y/N could feel the tensed muscles of his back, his hardness reaching to its maximum and pushing deeper as he came, flooding her depths with his seed.

Y/N’s body was almost convulsing against his. Emotions overflowing her, she snuggled into Loki’s arms, unable to think at the moment. The warmth of his body wrapped around her, soothing and calming. Fingers entangled in his hair, Y/N felt a tear rolling down her cheek. God, she’d missed him.

His eyes and lips searched hers, pressing tender kisses against her temples and cheeks. Slightly frowning, he gently cupped the side of her face as he wiped the wet trail on her skin.

Full of hopes, Y/N stared into his eyes, waiting for him to say something, anything.

All of a sudden, Loki seemed lost. He moved back, leaving her sitting on the desk, alone and empty. He slowly stepped away from her, absently brushing his fingers through his dark hair. Y/N’s heart broke into pieces. Again ?

‘’Aren’t you going to say something ?’’ she tried, but Loki remained impassively silent.

How stupid you can be Y/N. 

She jumped off the furniture, shaking her head in exasperation as she put her dirty clothes back on.

Insufferable.

She picked her bag and headed for the door.

‘’Y/N.’’

The young girl stopped, turning to him.

Loki handed her the Teaching Assistant application form. She was about to fling an offensive comment when their gazes crossed, his intense green eyes begging for her to take the paper.

Her shaking hand grabbed it, tears misting her eyes. ‘’I thought there was something...’’ Y/N started, but the words were strangled in her throat. 

His mouth opened and for a moment, she thought he was going to talk. But nothing came. There was no point insisting. 

Y/N picked her jacket and quickly left.

Bastard.

Once outside, the cold surprised her and she burst into tears. She wandered alone and without purpose for quite a long time until she reached campus.

Absently looking down, Y/N suddenly ran into a tall man,

‘’Oh, sorry,’’ she sniffled and looked up realizing she knew him, ‘’Leo ?’’

The young man smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder,

‘’Y/N ! Are you alright ? You’re crying,’’ He frowned, ‘’did Professor Laufeyson hurt you ?’’ She quickly shook her head and offered him a fake smile, ‘’No, I’m fine, really. Just a terrible headache.’’

An odd sensation curled through the pit of her stomach as he started to walk with her. Unable to remember the party, Y/N didn’t know why he made her feel somewhat uncomfortable.

‘’Hey, what about the date you promised me last time ?’’ He stopped in front of her and she shrugged, ‘’Well, I don’t know…’’ Leo rolled his eyes, ‘’Come on Y/N…’’

The young girl stared at him and her heart started pounding. After all, she wasn’t in any kind of relationship, right ? 

‘’Alright. Monday afternoon, after Professor Laufeyson’s class.’’

A smile crossed Leo’s lips and he nodded towards the building next to them, ‘’I’ll wait for you there.’’ he stepped back and waved his hand, ‘'Gotta go. See you on Monday, Y/N.’’

Shoving her hands into her pockets as she watched him leave, the young girl frowned. There was something in here… With her fingertips, she withdrew a small piece of paper from her pocket and took a look at it. A phone number had been scratched out on its back, followed by a few words,

‘’Call me, L.’’

Her heart hammering in her chest, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder...

‘’L.’’ for… Leo or… Loki ?

-

Tags :  @writingstudent​, @spookycatqueen, @tchallaholla, @addyliners, @josiehosiedaninja, @kemona, @frenchfrostpudding, @neurotic-narwhal, @conqueries, @kasiarella, @thisisnotseriousbussiness, @hakuoyuki, @demon-soldier, @alijulia87,  @davidteninchme

[velcro-rave]

post-emoji movie Trauma

WARNING: the following text contains spoilers and can be considered disturbing to some readers. especially my brain, because it’s leaking out my ears after typing this.

This is the first movie ever I’ve gone to see on opening night. And let me just say that, for the record, I’m glad I went to watch with friends. Without them, I would have most likely calmly exited the room, climbed up to the roof, and dived straight off.

I’m honestly fucking terrified of how much this shitty movie has pushed me to the edge. I’ve never felt more ANGRY in my life and at the same time wanted to just curl up in a ball and cry myself to sleep. This is so fucked up. What made it possible for this level of psychological warfare to be used so casually by Sony? Why did they decide this was ever a good idea to present to the public? I’m still shaking (and not from the overpriced Coca-Cola I was sold). Whether it’s out of rage or fear, I don’t know. Not even throwing myself into the deep fires of hell can attempt to restore the intrinsic warmth I felt before I witnessed this crime of a movie. They say that there’s a special place reserved below for people who cause enough pain to humanity, and it is at this point where I pose this question to the following:

Tony Leondis. Eric Siegel. Mike White. Michelle Raimo Kouyate.

Why?

Did you want this to happen to me? Was this the plan all along? To destroy everything you could possibly love in the process of creating this film, to make the audience suffer without any remorse? You got PATRICK FUCKING STEWART as a voice actor, and what is it you do?

Yeah, you make him play A WALKING PILE OF SHIT!!!!

Someone could’ve ran up to me after I left the theater, put a shotgun directly up to my forehead, pulled the trigger, and that would have still not come close to how much my mind had been blown at the shocking reality that this movie, this spawn, could exist in the known universe and continue to be shown to innocent people. There were kids there. Hopeful, happy, young kids with iPhones who thought it was a great idea to head off to the movies and watch a funny relatable movie about emojis without a care in the world. Communicating ideas without the use of words is the “staple” of their generation, as the movie so proudly portrays (even comparing it to ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics!), and there’s no reason a family shouldn’t agree to bring their children to this beautiful, heartwarming adventure, right? WRONG.

Nothing could have prepared me for the horrific amount of groan-worthy jokes this movie tossed out. I’ve been wracking my brain for an entire hour trying to remember the most potent ones, but they were so easily forgettable that I can only recall a few offhand. They were tragic. Whenever an opportunity for a shitty pun showed itself, you can bet your ass the writers took it and ran with it to lengths beyond the realms of humor. From the character known as Hi-5′s nonchalant Bye Felicia! to his two puns about snapping (as if one wasn’t enough), I wanted to get up and scream at the ceiling in the hopes that my cries of agony would disrupt the structural integrity of the building and have it fall on top of me, finally freeing me from the slow-cooker of torture that is The Emoji Movie.

At a certain point, Hi-5 (by the way James Corden, I thought you were cool. I thought you were here for us, for all of us as an entertainer, but you just had to take part in ruining me and the world as we know it by accepting this role. I will never forgive you.) mentions something about his heart beating. His… heart? This walking, talking hand has a heart? Does he have lungs? What other internal organs could fit in there and be capable of being slapped around constantly as a result of his stupid ass decisions? Why doesn’t he have arms like Gene or Jailbreak, does his body somehow take into account that he’s already a living appendage? This movie is making me sit and contemplate the anatomy of a fucking animated HAND, and that’s not even as preposterous as a thought can get while watching.

On multiple occasions throughout my viewing experience, I had to take a break to just lean back and sigh, both in anguish of what was happening onscreen as well as the sheer exhausting aspect of it all. The voice acting couldn’t have been more unreliable. Every other line it was a gamble between it being a poorly executed pun delivered so flatly that not even the 4-year old up front let out a little giggle, an obvious statement about what they’re planning to do next, or the most unremarkable snippet of backstory ever revealed. I’m sure all those scenes between Gene and Jailbreak where they gaze at each other were meant to be construed as romantic, but her blasé response to each of his approaches because she “isn’t some princess waiting for her prince” or how “women are deserving of more respect” completely knocked the mood off whatever pedestal it was stepping up to. I get it, these are actual important themes that need to be recognized, and I would be more than happy to see this acknowledged in a movie built on as many metaphors as Zootopia, but the timing of her commentary was the worst I’d ever seen. The constant interruptions made it seem like her words shouldn’t be taken seriously at all!

Unsurprisingly, character background was virtually (unintentional pun. I’m incredibly sorry.) nonexistent, and everything that’s possible to be wondered about the universe could pretty much be answered with a big shrug. For example, why does Hi-5 have a band-aid? Did he get stabbed or something? When did Gene begin to show signs that he was capable of other emotions? Was the Just Dance girl deleted after the trash bin emptied itself out? We didn’t see any signs of the characters going back for her after Hi-5 had to shake off the troll, so did they just leave her there to die? If Jailbreak had been working for a long time to get out, why didn’t she use more of her hacking skills? She pulled up her hologram window things maybe three times total to escape or hide somewhere, does she seriously not have anything else in her repertoire that could potentially help Gene and Hi-5 get to where they need to be quicker? There’s so many questions that don’t even get passively explained. Then again, I’m arguing against the same people who genuinely advocated for the setting to be called Textopolis.

AND WHOSE FUCKING IDEA WAS IT TO MAKE THE MAIN CHARACTER “MEH”??

The ONE emoji with zero interesting qualities and the most monotone parents that, for some fucking batshit insane reason, were given more than the minute of screentime they deserved. I understand for a quick gag, their emotionless response to everything could be funny, but their conversations would just stretch on and on and on. As for Gene, I trusted you, T.J. Miller. I can’t believe you betrayed me, especially after such a hilariously perfect role in Deadpool. Never in my life have I felt so disappointed in a single person. There is no justifiable reason for you to be proud of what you’ve done here. To be honest, I’m pretty sure I astral projected at least three times as I struggled to repress the memory of this trainwreck before it even ended. When I wasn’t desperately clawing at the armrests mid-convulsion, I was staring vacantly at the center of the screen, wondering how this week could have gone so wrong.

This was basically a 91-minute long advertisement. The whiplash of traveling between product placement to product placement nearly made me throw up, which was ostensibly the only thing that could’ve made this worse. Dropbox, Spotify, Candy Crush, Just Dance, YouTube, Facebook, and the almighty Twitter, I hope you’re happy with what you’ve wrought. The “emoji-pop” dance assaulted my eyes so suddenly, acting as the unnecessary cherry on top of the feel-good ending; I think that’s when I officially lost all hope in enjoying the rest of my night.

It’s honestly taking every ounce of my being to hold onto the little bit of life that I have after the Emoji Movie ripped my soul to shreds. The amount of violation I felt as my ears were subjected to endless pop culture references that were relevant years ago, nightmarish depictions of the content of each app on Alex’s phone, and the fact that the god damn Eggplant was in the Unused Emojis room when everyone knows that’s not the case is indescribable. I now have to live with the fact that every time I switch keyboards on my phone, those blank yellow faces will serve as a dark reminder of what I’ve gone through. To any of you reading this that have also watched The Emoji Movie, I am so sorry. I know how difficult it is to process. My recommendation to each and every one of you who haven’t had the chance to witness this sickening spectacle is to KEEP IT THAT WAY. Don’t give in to the peer pressure; this abomination parading itself around as an endearing motion picture will wholly and truly rattle you to the core. My only solace was the complete absence of dabbing or whipping (apart from hearing the song), and I’d like to thank every deity above and below for that small act of mercy.

Here’s to you, Sony. Thanks for ensuring that I not only sink deeper into my depression, but for forcing my mind to house the images I’ve seen today for as long as I live. I wish I could physically bring myself to chuck my phone in a garbage fire, but my entire body has gone numb. Here’s to you, and to all the writers, producers, and directors of this movie that made me sit in a corner pondering how I can possibly live in a future where this monstrosity exists.

Gravely, sincerely,

fuck you, and goodnight.

🖕

[pokefanbri]

I got in touch with my 1st love a couple months ago..hes a half native American & white dude, pretty pudgy now like triple the size of himself in middle school lol. Doesn't have much time left on this earth I feel for him, im glad I know now cause if I hadn't it probably would've been alot more devastating. Doesnt have to wear a mask cuz really whats the point. We met for coffee, got to hang out at the mall & he visited my work, we did talk & clear the air..got some things out that were left unsaid & i gotta say it really did help & we're better for it 😊 we're now cool & no hard feelings.

We used to be on & off in hs but the last time I broke it off with him for good reasons & also due to my mother 😒 If it weren't for him & our own experiences, & then every guy since...I would've have known how much I really love or attached I can be to someone (which has been all of them really but does disintegrate over time & going into new relationships they become just a distant memory as the yrs go by & then ur all about the new guy 🤔 basically right) or how unattached I can get when I just dont love them anymore...(of which has only happened twice)

For the record I've had 5 relationships my whole life...not counting flings..out of 2 they broke up with me.. & they so happen to be the ones i fell hard & fast for...its a common theme but they are the best ones I've experienced & I think I have a confirmed type now that I think about it lol. Im thinking too much again, but..they're top tier unforgettable.

I fell damn fucking hard this time around just like I did Thomas..don't think I got enough of him either...😤 seriously wtf is it with these charming & hilarious, headstrong, smart ass, string bean, stoner, Leo men fucking my heart up after only a few months time! What is the universe trying to tell me! I swear to God in another lifetime they would've been friends its an incredible likeness. History repeated itself it seems..I was so in love with him too, we were only 19 but omg he was awesome & we were ALL OVER EACHOTHER 🤤. He was my coworker, a red headed skinny bobblehead tho, & lived in my apt complex his best friend Danny boy did too in his own, hard core Call of Duty players I remember they high jacked my tv for optimum experience...😒 walking the tv across the parking lot was super sketchy looking lol.

Anyway after Thomas broke up with me for saying the L word "too soon" it freaked him out I guess & my brain cracked from the devastation...doctors are convinced it was the weed 😒 and apparently I ODd on Tylenol...crock of bs btw but whatever...i couldn't sleep & for days I was in a haze til I finally called my aunt for help & all of a sudden I was locked away in a psych ward for 2 weeks so they could observe what was wrong & diagnose me. Had to quit pima college & stop working, put everything on hold for my health. After I came back, Tom admitted he wanted me back but he hated my 1st love with a passion. I confessed I was back with my 1st as he was there at my side & visiting..when Tom had no idea where tf I was, me missing worried him sick. I had no clue & for all I knew he forgot about me while I was grieving over us in the hospital (I couldn't have my phone..knew a select few #s by heart otherwise he would've been the 1st I'd call), I was still dazed & super fucked up from the hospital..just outright exhausted when Thomas came to my apartment wanting to try again....yea I messed that up though regretfully. I told him the truth...I know it hurt him, hurt me too. Never saw Thomas again 😔 he was my 2nd, wonder how he is.

After I broke up with my 1st there was like a 1 or 2 month relationship with a fat Irish dude named Patrick I met from college, he insulted my mom..kicked his ass the curb 😂 yea she chased him away too just like my 1st...but an Irish version..was kinda a deadbeat anyway good riddance. I was alone for about 5 years after that til eventually met my ex-husband matt & was with him for technically 7 years & then that ended.

Long story short I was hit with another love bomb over the past year (T2.0 lol) & the fallout is taking forever to disapate lol...well good technically I don't want it to yet lmao, it feels good to love someone with a full heart except for the fact they ain't here 😔

I love genuinely & with a full heart, ive never had a problem with love, except for my abusive mother I sought approval for....never have I been with someone that didnt want it...didn't want me, until him. If someone shows that to me in a relationship it hurts me at the roots, u don't understand how much it brings out that little girl that just wants to be loved back..to be wanted. It hurts to think im not even worth that. I realize though that he may have his own issues to get past first b4 he can learn to give it back & its not my fault. I should on some things honestly but I don't blame him..not anymore. I blame my own trauma that made me so fucking sensitive & off-putting to him, going from 1 relationship to another without healing first, & not knowing how to function walking on eggshells around a new person trying not to piss them off...not knowing how to do a fresh relationship from the start again....when you've been with 1 person prior for 7 yrs.

I grew up being beaten as a kid, I have no father, my mother chose drugs over her own children, everybody in my family arent like a hallmark card far from it...its fucking tucson ok it's a hell hole. A good amount are notorious for causing trouble around the city, nobody talks to eachother..stays away & fends for themselves, or just killing themselves with drugs & selfishly hurting people around them. Very few of us are really trying to make it out & create life for ourselves but it's really hard to escape because we're all struggling. I cry because I've been strong for way too long on my own, I cry when I think im not good enough. Besides some relationships & friendships along the way for support guess who's always taken care of herself to survive, yours truly. It's a huge accomplishment that I've never been homeless, only a couple times have I had to rely on a friend or family member for a roof over my head & that was just 2020-2021,boy is it good to have connections during a pandemic phew, alot more tough to find someone willing to help. My big sis Lisa, my mentor assigned to me at 12 yrs old cuz my mom couldn't be a real parent lol...she says im a strong princess thats gone through hell & back, she's seen me do it countless times, she can attest to how much of a boss & survivor I am...she knows I deserve nothing but to be appreciated,respected, valued. I'm underestimated all the time because apparently people think they can read what kinda person I am just by looking at me or by word of mouth, hell no very doubtful screw u lol... i don't need anybody's belittling opinions of what kind of person I am ok, how about talk to me & ill see if u in the ballpark lol cuz I guarantee im a boss ass goody 2 shoes that can kick butt 😊. So listen here, I know my worth & I deserve a prince to keep me safe from the big bad world right? I need an actual shoulder to cry on not someone that'll walk away when I need them most 😔 Why tf do I feel like rapunzel & all I get is fuckin Flynn 😂 I'm a queen ok, hear me now.

This will be my 3rd own rented apartment. The 1st time I was a teen & imancipated...had that place for a few years 1st & 2nd love era, 2nd time was the escape from my mother as an adult & I moved away eventually got married. And now at another turning point in my life... escaping a very different hell & losing pretty much everything including the man that started it all, 3rd time is the charm right. Fuck my life sidewinder style. Honestly this is the best apartment complex I've found that I want as my home....its gated nothing can touch me from outside unless I say so, so at least im secure to a point.

Why am I talking and not sleeping 😐 I'm tired, it's 5am now. Yeaaaaa I'm done 💤

[artificialqueens]

Brooklyn Nights (Sashea) - Dandee

Summary–Though Sasha comes from privilege, Shea is the only thing she’s ever really wanted.

AN– Lesbian AU! Sasha’s husband is only referred to as Mister Velour, he’s not Johnny, because this is purely a work of fiction, and I have the utmost respect for the queens’ real-life relationships! Songs that inspired this chapter/entire fic- Quit by Cashmere Cat and Brooklyn Nights by Gaga. Anyways. I suck at titles, and writer’s block is a bitch, so this was a struggle. Thanks to dare for holding my hand throughout this process, and for pretty much being Superbeta. P.S. You should all go read her fic.

Sasha pulls her black sleeves down over her knuckles, hugs her knees to her chest, and glances around the empty apartment.

Well, it’s not exactly empty. It’s fully furnished, sure, and there’s a decent amount of what someone would describe as quality artwork hanging from the walls. Yes, there’s a television with surround-sound, and maybe a few Tiffany lamps, and a chaise lounge and a grand piano and alright, okay no, it’s not empty. It is, in fact, far from empty. Sasha’s apartment is far from empty.

But her apartment is person-less.

Mister Velour is gone.

He left like a storm, a whirlwind of shouting over broken cries, a hurricane of scathing accusations and malicious backlash that somehow left the apartment pristine. Everything looks as though it hasn’t been touched, as though Mister Velour had never been there at all. There’s nothing visibly wrong with the picture; he’s taken nothing, but he’s taken everything. The storm is still there, brewing in Sasha’s mind.

She rests her cheek against the back of the couch and gazes at the door. It’s quiet without him.

Peaceful.

Not that he’s a bother. Yes, his constant chatter and clamouring could be a bit much at times, but she always sort of viewed that as his ‘artistic’ side. She has high regard for Mister Velour, through his ins and his outs, despite his flaws and lack-there-ofs. It had made sense to marry and start a business with him. He was a smart match for her; she was beautiful, and he was crazy about her. It had been regarded by all whom she’d considered close to her as a good move, to share her life with him and start a career.

Sasha has tried, throughout her life, to always make good decisions.

So when she sees her phone light up at the end of the coffee table, she can’t help smile at the irony. Shea.

Good decisions. Right.

She could ignore the call– she could be done. She could be the Sasha that she’s supposed to be, the Sasha that everyone wants her to be, and she could sit on the couch and think about all that she’s ruined, wallow in the events arisen and figure out a way to ‘work on things’, as Mr.Velour had so eloquently put it. It wouldn’t be too hard. He would take her back.

She shakes her head at the familiar fluttering in her chest as she reaches to answer.

“Hey.”

A chuckle at the other end.

“Hello, devil I know,” Shea purrs, and Sasha can hear the smile forming on her lips through the phone. “I thought for a minute you weren’t gonna answer.”

Sasha lets out a breath and runs a hand along the back of her neck. “You know I always do.”

A moment passes between them, and Sasha holds the phone closer, as if somehow it will bring Shea to her. She can feel the lump forming in her throat.

“I need to see you,” Shea says quietly.

That’s the thing about Shea. However badly Sasha misses her, Shea misses her more. It’s hard to tell who’s in love with who. If that’s even how it works. Sasha doesn’t know.

Sasha says with a long sigh, “I want to see you too.”

“I’m in the city.”

Sasha’s breath hitches in her throat.

“You– you are?” she asks incredulously, her heart thumping in her ears.

“Yeah,” Shea answers with a short breath of a laugh. “I, uh, I got a couple nights off.”

Sasha can only blink, her mouth agape. It’s been weeks. Weeks. Of all nights, her mistress comes to her city the night her husband leaves her. Divine intervention?

“Sasha?”

“Yes! Yes. I’m sorry.” She breaks from her thoughts. “I just– I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I know,” Shea says, and the blaring of traffic behind her grows louder, “I haven’t been here in months.”

Months. Had it been months? Sasha had been to Chicago at least a few weeks ago, but Shea hadn’t been to New York in months? It was difficult to keep track.

“Can you get out tonight?” Shea asks.

Sasha bites her lip. Of course she can, she’s alone, but Shea doesn’t know that. She doesn’t need to know that.

“I don’t know, Shea, it’s not– it’s not the best–”

“Please,” Shea cuts her off, and the desperation in her voice melts Sasha right to her core. “Please. I need to see you. Even if it’s only for an hour.”

“An hour?” Sasha raises a brow. “Seriously?”

“Maybe two.”

Sasha knows she’ll be out all night.

“Come on,” Shea pleads, and Sasha can feel herself giving in, just like she always does. “I got some friends of mine at a club off Fourth, and they really wanna meet you.”

“You have friends?” Sasha asks slyly, leaning back against the couch and draping a leg over the armrest.

“Yes, bitch. And I already told them you were coming, so don’t make me look stupid.”

“I would never,” Sasha chuckles lightly, toying with the end of her skirt. “Is it a nice club?”

“What do you think?” Shea says, and Sasha can pretty much see her eyeroll.

“Well, I don’t know,” Sasha trails off, earning a huff of a breath from the other end of the line. She knows she’s just being annoying at this point– of course she’s going to meet Shea wherever the hell she is. Shea could probably call her and tell her to get on a plane and she’d do it. That didn’t mean she couldn’t play with her a bit.

“Look, just get here as soon as you can,” Shea says, and the sounds of the city in the backround grow impossibly louder. “I’ll drop you a pin.”

“I don’t have anything to wear,” Sasha says, her last pseudo-protest slipping away from her.

“That’s fine with me,” Shea replies coolly, and Sasha purses her lips as the call ends.

Cheeky bitch.

She sits and clings to the thought of staying home for a moment longer. It’s what she should do. She’s got an early morning, they’ve got a meeting with the bigwigs about publishing; this would definitely be a regret in the morning.

They. Oh God, she’d almost forgotten.

She presses her fingers together just over the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes. Of course he’ll be there, he’s CEO of the whole damn company. How could she forget? It was incredible, how easily she forgot about Mister Velour.

Unfair, really.

She presses the heels of her hands into her eyes. God, this was a shit show. Not only did she have to ‘work on things’, probably file for divorce, but she had a career tied to him. A business. Everything she’d worked for, everything she’d built from the ground up was now on the line. All because she had to go and fuck it up. All because she couldn’t cover her tracks.

The screen of her phone lights up. Shea’s pin.

Sasha sighs when she opens Maps. She’s not sure why she even thought Shea would be talking about Fourth in Manhattan. Of course she meant Fourth in Brooklyn. Shea loves Brooklyn. All of her friends live in Brooklyn.

“Would you like me to call a car, Madam?”

Sasha fumbles to catch her phone as it flies from her hands. She whirls around and lets out an exasperated breath when her eyes fall on George, who polishes a glass absentmindedly while looking at her for an answer. His skin is pale and pasty in the lamplight, and the circles under his light blue eyes are dark.

“Jesus, George,” she chuckles, a palm coming to rest delicately over her chest to calm herself. “You scared me. I thought you’d already left.”

“Just finishing things in the kitchen, Madam,” he replies, eyeing her with mild suspicion. “Unless, of course, you wish me to leave.”

“No, no,” Sasha stammers, then rises from the couch. “I mean yes, do whatever you’d like. I don’t mind finishing the rest.”

George frowns a bit, eyeing the glass. Sasha knows he won’t leave without a spotless kitchen. Mister Velour has always run a tight ship, and George often overworked himself, trying to please him. She sighs and walks toward him, and as she gives him a warm smile, she gently takes the glass and pulls it from his hands.

“Go home, dear. Get some sleep.”

Still frowning, George blinks and nods, shuffling his feet awkwardly as Sasha sets the glass on an end table. She pats him on the shoulder before slipping past toward the door, and he calls after her.

“Are you quite sure, Madam, that you wouldn’t like me to call you a car for the night?”

“No, that’s alright. I’m taking the subway.” She moves to do a once-over in the mirror and turns her slim figure to the side, considering a change from her button down and pencil skirt, and it’s all she can do to to keep from rolling her eyes at George’s horrified expression. “And what did I say about listening in on my conversations?”

“I’m sorry… I couldn’t help but overhear,” he says warily as he fiddles with his hands, taking a few steps closer to her. “But I must advise against it, Madam. I cannot, in good conscience, let you take the public transport at this time of night.”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” she assures him, pinning a loose strand of blonde hair back into her neat bun. She frowns at her reflection, tilting her head and worrying her bottom lip; maybe a little too neat? She undoes the pin and lets the curl fall back into her face again. It’ll have to do. No time for dawdling, not with George breathing down her neck.

“I insist, Madam,” he says as Sasha turns to pull her coat from the rack. He swiftly takes it from her and holds it open, yet continues his protests as she slips her arms through. “It isn’t safe for you to walk the streets alone at night. A lady such as yourself-”

“Is perfectly capable of taking the subway,” Sasha finishes for him, fastening the belt of her coat around her waist. “I’ve got protection, don’t worry,” she assures him, and this time she openly rolls her eyes at his look of shock. “Oh calm down, it’s just a bit of pepper spray. I keep it in my purse. Seriously, it’s fine.”

George falters a bit. “Alright, very well then. Shall I at least make arrangements for your departure from… well… wherever you’re going to be?”

Leave it to George to try and keep tabs. Sasha knows this game very well.

“No, I’ll be getting home late,” she says, grabbing her purse off of the hook. “Now I mean it, George. I don’t want you to be here when I get back. I want you home, in bed. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Madam.”

“Good,” she says with a smile. She leans in to place a quick kiss on his cheek, then turns abruptly on her heel and heads out the door.

******

Sasha can’t help but feel a certain independence, sitting alone amongst strangers. She tries her best to blend in but doesn’t– she’s in her work clothes, white heels, and doesn’t even have a pair of earphones to pull out as a last attempt at looking normal. Not that she could, anyway– her posture is basically chiseled into her spine at this point, so she sits completely upright, one leg crossed over the other, her Chanel bag gripped tightly in front of her. She tries not to be too obvious in her staring at her fellow passengers, but it’s not that kind of busy tonight, the kind of crowded where everyone’s shoulder to shoulder and in each other’s way. It’s not that kind of obstructive, compact space where you take in no detail of the people around you, no, there’s plenty of space on the train tonight, plenty of room for people to watch one another, to judge and make assumptions.

There’s a lady with her back turned to Sasha, wearing a short, summery dress, and she’s leaning against the pole. Actually, she’s leaning so fiercely that the pole has begun to slip in between her ass cheeks, and it’s spreading them unnaturally far apart, and Sasha’s doing her best to look away, but the thought of sanitation is making her inwardly cringe.

Then there are a few kids further down doing flips in the hopes of making some kind of something, whether it’s cash or just being noticed. Sasha’s admittedly a bit more entertained than her fellow passengers, who only seem happy to avoid a kick in the face, and she cranes her neck a bit to see past parted-ass lady. One of the kids seems to be rapping, or singing, but it’s almost impossible to hear over the guy on the phone next to her.

She winces as he raises his voice, and she can’t help but imagine the person on the other end of the line as female. He’s angry about something– he barely lets her get a breath in, much less a word. He barely takes a breath for himself, and his face turns red and a vein pops out of his forehead as he continues to yell about something not getting done, about being lied to, and it all starts sounding too familiar to Sasha. His eyes randomly meet hers and she jumps a bit, peeling her eyes away and looking at her hands. Thankfully, she feels the inertial pull as the train slows to a stop, and she’s somehow one of the first to hurry out of the sliding doors.

It’s a cold, rainy night, and Sasha flips the collar of her coat upward to cover her neck, inwardly cursing herself for rushing out without a scarf. Her heels click against the wet pavement as she makes her way down the street, and she suddenly can’t stop thinking about Mister Velour. How angry he was, how despairing his voice sounded as it reverberated through their home, bouncing off the marble pillars in the hall. The way he’d paced in front of her while she’d sat on the couch, unable to offer him any words of comfort.

He stopped his movements for a moment, a fist coming to press hard against his mouth. He looked at her with such abandon, such intensity that he was hardly recognizable.

”Do you love her?”

Sasha blinked for a moment, and cast her eyes downward. Her breathing grew shallow as she thumbed the end of her skirt, unable to speak.

“Sasha?”

“Sasha!”

That deep, velvety voice pulls her from her thoughts. Sasha snaps her head up and there she is, in all of her street-walker glory– Shea, in a bright pink coat and a next-to-nothing leotard underneath, with neon boots that go all the way up to her armpits and a headband to match. Her sleek black hair sways behind her as she dashes across the street toward Sasha, and Sasha doesn’t even know she’s running until she meets her in the middle.

Sasha forgets everything when she’s circled tightly in Shea’s arms. Her eyes fall shut, her eyebrows scrunch together and she hides the rest of her face in Shea’s ostrich-feathered coat, and Shea’s arms are firm around her shoulders as they cling to each other, swaying like fools in the middle of the street.

“God, I’ve missed you,” Shea murmurs into her hair, and Sasha’s hands try to pull her closer, her fingers splaying across Shea’s back. She says nothing, but Shea knows. Shea always knows.

Shea tilts her head and brings Sasha’s face up to meet hers with the tip of her finger, and their eyes lock, blue meeting brown. Suddenly Shea’s face falls, and her eyes begin to search Sasha’s.

“Hey, are you– are you okay?”

Sasha nods and her eyes cast downward, but Shea’s hand catches her cheek and coaxes her gaze back upward, her eyes now filled with worry.

“No you’re not. What’s wrong?” Shea asks, and she turns her palm to brush Sasha’s cheek with the back of her knuckles, then jumps a bit and brings her other hand to the other cheek. “Oh, you’re cold.”

“I’m always cold,” Sasha says quietly.

“Where’s your car? Where’d you park?” Shea pulls back a bit and looks over her shoulder, her eyes darting around for Sasha’s car.

“I don’t have it,” Sasha says, frowning against the brisk wind and pulling the top of her coat tighter. “I took the subway.”

Shea’s eyes bulge. “You took the F?”

She nods.

“Oh, baby, no,” Shea says with a furrowed brow, and places her hands on Sasha’s shoulders. “At this time of night? That’s dangerous.”

Sasha scoffs lightly, crossing her arms over her chest. “You do it all the time.”

“That’s different. I’m from Chicago.”

“Well, I’m from Moscow.”

Silence.

“But you’re little,” Shea says softly, then sighs and pulls Sasha back into her arms, resting her chin atop her head. “I just don’t want you to walk by yourself at night. I wish you would’ve said something, I would’ve came and got you.”

Arms still folded, Sasha buries her face into Shea’s neck. They stay like that for a moment.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” Shea asks in a soft voice.

“‘m fine,” Sasha mumbles into her neck, then pulls back to look up at her. Shea is always such a beautiful sight, her brown eyes dark next to her glimmering eye makeup, her pouty lips that could turn into a crooked smile in the blink of an eye.

“You sure?” Shea asks again, concern evident in her features.

Sasha nods, holding her gaze. She then admits in a small voice, “I’m just really glad you’re here.”

Shea’s expression softens, and she runs her thumb along Sasha’s cheek. She bends to place a soft kiss to the corner of Sasha’s mouth, and Sasha’s eyes flutter closed as she smiles into Shea’s lips. Her arms glide up to curl around Shea’s neck while she stands on her toes and deepens the kiss, and Shea gives a soft laugh and she’s kissing her back, her hands falling to Sasha’s waist and pulling her closer.

Sasha loves the soft familiarity of it, how easily she fits into Shea’s embrace. It’s so fluid, so simple, really. It’s as if the rest of the world melts away– everything around Sasha seems to dissipate when her lips touch Shea’s.

A car horn blares. Sasha jumps and pulls back to stare into a pair of bright headlights, idling impatiently beside her.

“Get out of the fuckin’ road!” the little bald man leans his head out of the window to shout, and leans on his horn again.

Shea frowns into the headlights for a moment, then smiles curtly and holds a middle finger high in the air. “Fuck off, asshole!”

“Fuck you, lady!” the guy hollers back, and he inches his car closer toward them.

“Oh my God,” Sasha ducks her head out of the light, utterly mortified. Shea only laughs and takes Sasha’s hand, moving them out of the street and onto the sidewalk. The guy rushes past them with a still blaring horn and his middle finger hanging out the window, and Shea, too, holds her finger up until the car turns onto the next street, then turns to Sasha and laughs.

“God, I missed Brooklyn.”

Sasha shakes her head. “You’re insane.”

Shea smiles and takes her bag, looping it through her arm, then laces her fingers with Sasha’s. “Come on, let’s get you warm,” she says as she leads her to the entrance of what looks like a very abandoned building.

“Wait, what are we– is this the club?” Sasha stammers, slowing her pace and pulling against Shea.

“Yeah, come on.” Shea tilts her head toward the door.

“But it’s–” Sasha furrows her brow in confusion, feet rooted to the sidewalk, “–is there anyone here?”

Looking at the entrance, you wouldn’t really think there was. It’s an older, unkept one story building, with dirty pebbled-brick and vine growing up the side. Then there’s this bright red door that looks like it should be leading to a closet or an outdoor bathroom, and that’s where Shea’s trying to take them.

Shea chuckles and grabs Sasha’s other hand, continuing to walk backwards to the door. “What, you don’t trust me?”

Sasha rolls her eyes and reluctantly follows. “I probably shouldn’t.”

Shea stops just shy of the door, a devilish gleam in her eye as she pulls the blonde closer. Her breath tickles Sasha’s ear.

“You probably shouldn’t do a lot of things.”

Sasha says nothing when her gaze meets Shea’s, but Shea doesn’t seem to mind either way, and she pushes the red door open and pulls Sasha inside with her.

“Whoa.”

Sasha’s stunned at the difference– she grips Shea’s hand tightly as she follows her down a long hallway, with black and white floor and red velvet walls, illuminated by lanterns that hang from the ceiling. The walls are littered with glamour shots of people that Sasha’s never seen before, all framed and signed. There’s a guy at the end of the hall standing in front of another door, also painted red, and Sasha can hear the faint beat of a fast-paced song behind it. The guy gives Shea a short nod as they near the door, but eyes Sasha keenly, like he’s not sure she belongs.

“She’s with me,” Shea says coolly, and offers a folded bill that Sasha can’t quite make out between her fingers.

The man takes the bill and pockets it, then touches his finger to his earpiece and mutters something over his shoulder. After a quick “copy that”, he turns his gaze back to Sasha. Giving her a once over, he raises a brow and reaches for the handle of the door.

“Welcome to Red Door, ladies.”

Shea gives Sasha’s hand a reassuring squeeze before leading them through.

The odd music resonates throughout the room, as well as the dull hum of conversation and the faint clinking of glasses. It’s not too crowded– and the black and white tile continues into the bar area, and the walls are still red, still covered in framed black and white photos. There are a few exotic-looking women scattered about the bar, all dressed much more like Shea than Sasha. In fact, it seems like every woman in the room is stunningly beautiful, with legs and ass for days.

“Here, lemme take your coat,” Shea says as she shimmies out of her pink jacket and tosses it over her elbow.

Sasha feels self-conscious as she undoes the belt of her coat. Her eyes roam over Shea’s almost Herculean figure– taught and strapping, yet still feminine against the tight material of her black leotard, from the dip in her waist to the curve of her thighs. Shea’s dressed far more appropriately for this kind of environment than Sasha is, she’s dressed more like almost everyone else in the bar, and Sasha shakes her head as she slips out of her coat.

“I knew I should’ve changed,” she mutters as she hands her coat to Shea, and smoothes the front of her skirt mindfully.

Shea furrows her brow and looks her over. “Why? You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, but I–” Sasha lets out a breath of a laugh, and begins to fumble with the buttons of her shirt. “I don’t really look like I belong here.”

Sasha loosens the top of her button-down and straightens her collar, and when she moves to unbutton the cuff of her sleeve, Shea’s hand comes to gently lay over her wrist. Sasha’s eyes drift upward to meet her gaze, and though Shea speaks firmly, she flashes her that crooked smile.

“You belong anywhere with me.”

With a shy smile, Sasha nods and takes Shea’s hand, following her to the coat check.