#Meanwhile I’m begging for another round

[saturnsorbits]

Insatiable girlfriend who’s exhausted boyfriend hands her off to his friends like… Please, do what you want with her, just bring her back tired.

[worseforwords]

Danger

(Alessia Russo x Reader)

Chapter IV of Marshmallow

Four minutes. That’s how long it took for Alessia to say something that made your head spin when you saw each other again for the first time after Paris. You were in the changing room, unable to stop yourself from eavesdropping on the conversation on the other side of the room after Beth asked Alessia about the weekend you spent together in the city of love. “Yeah, it was really romantic. It almost felt real in a way.”

Her words caused you to perk up in an instant, and you could hear big, dramatic gasps emanating from Beth, Vic, and Kyra. “No, not like that, you idiots,” she quickly added. Of course not. Of course, it wasn’t like that.

The next few weeks once again revolved around finding the right balance between you and Alessia which was tougher than it seemed at first. You consciously distanced yourself from Alessia, even though you valued the friendship and connection the two of you had built over the past two months.

About three weeks in, you started feeling like you finally had things under control. You saw each other in training, talked and laughed together, but you always kept it light and casual. Both of you mostly fell back into your usual friend groups, so avoiding her outside of football wasn’t that hard, although you had to come up with excuses a few times in the process.

You were really feeling more confident in your own defences, so when Leah begged you to finally join a team night out again, you said yes. After all, you had started to run out of reasons not to, and obviously, you couldn’t tell her the real one.

The night out at the bar with your teammates was exactly what you needed after a long week of training. As you entered the lively bar, the sounds of laughter and music welcomed you. The atmosphere was electric, and you could tell it was going to be a memorable evening.

Leah wasted no time in rounding everyone up for a round of drinks. “First round’s on me!” she exclaimed with a mischievous grin, already heading towards the bar as you followed closely behind.

Meanwhile, Beth and Viv found a cozy corner booth for all of you to sit. Katie, true to form, was already causing a scene, engaging in animated conversation with the bartender as she ordered a round of shots for the table. “Make ‘em strong, mate!” she called out, earning a chuckle from the rest of the group.

“Katie, you’re going to get us kicked out before we’ve even had a chance to sit down,” Beth teased, rolling her eyes playfully.

“Relax! I’m just trying to spice things up a bit,” Katie retorted with a wink, earning another round of laughter from the group.

As the night progressed and the drinks kept flowing, Katie’s suggestion of playing a drinking game was met with enthusiastic approval from the group. The game started innocently enough, with rounds of laughter and playful banter filling the air. Laura was the first to lose a round, and she accepted her fate with a grin, downing a shot with flair.

Next up was Vic, who groaned dramatically when she lost. “Alright, no more shots for me. Hit me with your best dare,” she declared, rolling her eyes playfully. After a brief debate the group decided she had to do a TikTok dance all by herself on the empty dance floor. Brave as she was she did so without much hesitation, before sprinting back to the booth and falling into a fit of giggles in embarrassment.

After a couple of rounds, the alcohol had clearly taken its effect, and the laughter grew louder with each passing moment. The first few rounds you were on top of your game, and admittedly also a bit lucky. Luck wasn’t on your side forever though, and as the alcohol started taking its effect on you too, you eventually found yourself making more mistakes and losing a round.

Having had plenty of alcohol by now, you too decided on doing a dare instead of a shot. As everyone started discussing what they could have you do, Katie’s voice cut through the chatter, “How about you tell us how good of a kisser Alessia is!”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you shot a startled, somewhat angry glance at Alessia, who met your gaze with an apologetic expression. You hadn’t realised anyone beyond the two of you knew about your intimate moment in Paris. 

Alessia’s eyes then darted to Vic, who was busy shooting daggers across the table at Katie, who remained grinning, awaiting your response. It dawned on you how naive you had been to think such a juicy secret could remain between just the two of you in this team, but you couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed in Alessia. Though you now realised she likely saw the kiss as nothing more than a funny anecdote, and you couldn’t blame her for that. Unlike you, one sloppy kiss hadn’t left her longing for more, wanting to do it again every time you moved your lips to speak. She didn’t think about the feeling of your hands caressing the back of her neck every time she caught a whiff of your perfume, and she sure as hell didn’t imagine being trapped against a wall anytime you leaned into her before a corner. She wasn't pathetic like that. And neither were you, of course.

“I’ll take the shot instead,” you declared, tossing it back before excusing yourself and swiftly heading towards the toilet. You splashed some water on your face, and waited a while, hoping the topic of conversation would change whilst you were gone. Stepping back out after a minute, you found Alessia waiting in the hallway.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, her expression apologetic as she placed a hand on your arm, indicating her sincerity. “I was stupid enough to think that would spread this quickly.”

“It’s fine, really,” you replied as you turned away, intending to rejoin the team, but Alessia’s grip on your wrist stopped you. “Wait—” she said and you turned around expectantly just as she tripped over her own feet and stumbled towards you, letting herself be caught by you. 

“Oh hi,” she said, her face now mere centimetres away from yours, and the familiar smell of her breath mixed with the smell of alcohol messed with your brain. “Maybe we should… you know— practice being girlfriends again, in case your parents show up or whatever,” she suggested with a grin, prompting you to steady her on her feet. She was clearly very intoxicated, more so than you and you realised there was no use in explaining to her again that your fake relationship was over. “Let’s head back inside shall we?” You suggested, avoiding her gaze as you turned away from her once more. 

“Yes! Let’s dance,” she exclaimed excitedly, following behind you.  By the time you arrived, your teammates were already dancing the night away, and you quickly made your way over to Leah, distancing yourself from Alessia.

“Mate, are you okay?” Leah asked, concern evident in her voice as she observed your expression. “You look proper floored.”

“Yeah, all good,” you lied, forcing a smile. “Nothing to worry about,” you tried to reassure her. Leah remained quiet for a bit, looking you up and down then scanning your face, seemingly unconvinced. “Well, great,” she replied finally, crossing her arms. “Now why the hell didn’t you tell me the two of you kissed?”

“Oh, that,” you began, trying to sound casual. “It didn’t mean anything, okay? So just drop it, please.” The annoyance in your voice caught yourself off guard and you quickly shifted your gaze to the floor, in fear of Leah’s reaction. “Jesus, all right,” she said, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Didn’t mean to step on your toes, mate.”

“Sorry Lee,” you groaned with an apologetic smile, although you knew she wasn’t really mad at you. She knew you were upset but she also knew you were as stubborn as a mule when it came to being vulnerable and talking about your feelings. She rolled her eyes dramatically and said, “Yeah, whatever. Let’s just have a good time and forget about it, alright?” 

You danced with Leah and some other teammates for a while before some of them headed to the bar with the promise of yet another round of drinks. Alessia seized the moment, pulling you into the centre of the lively crowd. The atmosphere was charged with energy, and Alessia, unburdened by inhibitions, twirled you around with an infectious grin.

As the music intensified, Alessia’s movements grew bolder. In the dim light and pulsating music, she closed the distance between you, her hand lingering on yours, and her body moving in sync with yours. You swallowed hard as you realised your intoxicated state inhibited you from doing anything but enjoy this moment.

At one point, the music slowed, and Alessia’s hand found its way to the small of your back, her gaze locking onto yours. She leaned in, a hint of mischief in her eyes, and you tensed, any questions you had getting stuck in your throat as you anticipated her next move.

Alessia’s lips brushed against your cheek, dangerously close to a kiss, but as you looked over her shoulder, you noticed Leah raising an eyebrow at you from where she stood across the bar. The realisation of what was happening hit you like a jolt, and you instinctively pulled back, breaking the intimate moment. A wave of conflicting emotions surged within you—temptation, confusion, and the desperate need to regain control. And you ran.

Leah caught up with you after a few minutes. “Hey! Wait, Y/N,” she called, grabbing your shoulder to slow you down from behind. “I don’t want to talk about it, Lee,” you groaned.

“Fine, don’t talk. But you’re not going home alone. I’m calling us an Uber,” she declared, and you knew there was no changing her mind. “Fine,” you sighed.

As you and Leah settled into the Uber, the ride was uncomfortably quiet. Each passing streetlight cast fleeting shadows across Leah's face, highlighting the concern etched into her features and her clenched jaw. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet her gaze, opting instead to stare out of the window as the city blurred past.

When the Uber pulled up outside Leah’s apartment, you braced yourself for the inevitable confrontation. Following your friend inside, you sank into the welcoming embrace of her sofa, feeling the weight of her gaze like a physical pressure.

Leah wasted no time, her voice cutting through the silence with unwavering determination. “Alright, out with it,” she demanded, her tone firm and uncompromising. “You’re not getting any sleep before you tell me what’s going on.”

At first, you scoffed at her blunt approach, your defences rising instinctively as you crossed your arms and stared at the wall. But beneath Leah’s steely exterior, you could sense the genuine concern and care in her words, and a part of you longed to unburden yourself to someone who truly understood. “I don’t know what to tell you, Lee. Nothing’s going on.” You briefly paused before quietly adding, “That’s the problem…”

“This is about Alessia,” Leah stated. Clearly, it didn’t matter how vague and distant you acted; she would always see right through you. “Y/N… that didn’t look like nothing to me.” Her voice was softer now, as she took a seat next to you.

“Well, it was,” you stated, and with a heavy sigh, you relented, the floodgates opening as you poured out anything and everything that had happened between you and Alessia in the past two months and how you felt about it. How you felt about her.

Leah listened intently, her expression softening as she absorbed your words, offering no judgment, only support. As you spoke, if only slightly, you felt a flicker of relief wash over you. And as the tears flowed freely, Leah remained by your side.

When you were done speaking, she held you as you shed a few more tears, until you felt your eyelids grow heavy. “Let’s get you to bed,” Leah softly stated as she took you to her guest bedroom.

The next morning, you woke up feeling a bit groggy but grateful for Leah’s help and care. When you entered the kitchen, she was still nowhere to be seen, so you decided to cook up a nice breakfast to thank her. You knew her kitchen like your own, as you always had to cook for her when you visited, not trusting her with it one bit. By the time Leah walked into the kitchen, you noticed her eyeing the food on the table with a mixture of surprise and amusement.

“I made breakfast,” you offered with a chuckle, knowing all too well Leah’s lack of culinary skills. “Figured I’d return the favour. I can’t handle feelings without you, and you won’t have anything to eat without me.”

Leah raised an eyebrow in mock indignation. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to take cooking lessons,” she retorted, grabbing a slice of toast and taking a bite.

You both shared a laugh as you sat down to enjoy the delicious breakfast you had made. You ate in silence, and despite the weight of yesterday’s conversation still lingering in the air, there was a sense of peace and understanding between you.

Eventually, Leah broke the comfortable silence, her tone serious yet gentle. “Listen. I know there’s no way in hell you’re taking my advice on this,” she began, “but just for the record, I think you should tell her how you feel.”

You couldn’t help but shake your head, a sad smile tugging at your lips. “I can’t, Leah,” you admitted, the weight of your words heavy in the air. “She’s happy with Dan, and it wouldn’t be fair to her. Besides, I’d rather be friends than nothing at all.”

Leah sighed, her expression softening with understanding. “I get that, I really do, but you’re torturing yourself by letting things go on like this,” she said, her voice laced with concern.

Leah’s words stuck with you the rest of the day as you replayed the events of last night in your mind. She wasn’t wrong; this was torture for you.

By the end of the day, the solution seemed clear to you: avoid Alessia altogether. Confessing your feelings to her was not an option, and being around her hurt you. So, really, avoiding her was the only sensible thing to do.

The following week, you did everything in your power to make your plan work. You sat opposite to wherever she was in the changing room and in meetings, and left immediately after every training session. You stopped hanging out with teammates altogether, fearing she might join in. When Lotte mentioned she was coming over to your shared apartment, you quickly made up an excuse and left for the rest of the day.

It wasn’t easy, and frankly, it was painful when you felt her trying to reach out to you. She would attempt to start a conversation, and you would suddenly make a beeline for Leah or pretend you didn’t hear her. One time, she even sent you a photo of a new type of chocolate pretzels she had found, which you ignored. When she asked if you wanted to talk, you ignored that too, and it hurt.

Nevertheless, you knew in your heart this was the only way to keep the both of you from getting hurt, and so you persevered. That was until after two more weeks of avoidance, the inevitable finally happened.

Your alarm went off early that morning after not having had much sleep. The night before, Alessia had suddenly shown up at your apartment, stating she was there to meet Lotte. She had asked if you wanted to join them for dinner, and you made up an excuse and left. You didn’t return until much later, when the only light visible through the curtains was the little nightlight in the living room, and you knew the coast was clear. You stirred for a long time before finally falling asleep, having spotted Alessia’s coat and shoes in the hallway and knowing she was lying on the other side of the wall you were staring at.

You didn’t have training until later that day, but you decided on an early alarm so you could escape the apartment before anyone else would wake up. You quickly threw on some joggers and a sweatshirt and kept your morning talk in the mirror short and to the point. You felt a sense of confidence wash over you as you realised you’d managed to prevent yet another encounter with the person you had been avoiding for weeks. 

All that confidence left your body in an instant however, when you opened your bedroom door to be met with a pair of widened blue eyes already staring at you. “Hi,” said Alessia, a shy smile on her face.

“Morning,” you said dryly, “you’re up early.” You didn’t really want a conversation with her, but at this point, small talk seemed unavoidable. “I, uh, couldn’t sleep anymore,” she replied. You brushed past her to grab your shoes and sat down on the edge of the sofa to tie the laces.

“Hey, Y/N?” She started hesitantly, causing you to look up at her, dreading whatever she was about to ask you. “Do you want some coffee? I just made some.” 

“Oh, no thank you. I was just about to go for a walk actually,” you answered, avoiding her gaze by focusing on your shoelaces again. “Oh right, of course,” she said quietly. The discomfort she felt was clear in the way she moved, the tension in the room palpable. You felt your eyes starting to water as your emotions overwhelmed you. The disappointment written on Alessia’s face, the way your body tensed up with every word she said, and the fact that you still had to fight the urge to kiss her right then and there, it was all too much.

“Enjoy your walk,” she said softly as you disappeared into the hallway. You grabbed your coat and keys and finally left the house. 

As you were trying your best to fight the tears now brimming your eyelids from falling down your cheeks until you had at least rounded the corner, you heard a different voice calling your name from behind you: Lotte. And she didn’t sound happy. “What are you doing?” Her tone was like a shout but her volume that of a whisper, given how early it was.

“Taking a morning stroll,” you replied quietly without turning around hoping to leave it at that. “You know that’s not what I meant. I’m talking about Less. She really wants to talk to you but you’ve been avoiding her, ignoring her. I have no idea what’s going on with you but I can tell this is hurting her, and after all she’s done for you—” she stopped abruptly when you turned around to face her and she noticed the tears now rolling down your face. You saw the hesitation in her eyes. Lotte was not an angry person. In fact, this was the angriest you had ever seen her, so you knew you had really messed up. She scanned your face for a little longer before asking, “Can you please just tell me what’s going on?”

“I— I really can’t, I’m sorry.” You felt an immense sense of guilt wash over you. These past few weeks you had hardly given it any thought how your actions were affecting others. You had decided this was the best thing to do for everyone involved, but of course Alessia did not know that and she had had no say in the matter.

“Okay,” Lotte mumbled hesitantly, “okay, but will you at least talk to her later? You can’t avoid her forever, Y/N,” she stated, and you knew she was right. You took a deep breath before accepting your fate and telling her, “Yeah, okay. You’re right.”

You opted to save the talk for after training, giving both of you some time to prepare. Lotte relayed the news to Alessia and assured to spend the night at her boyfriend’s place, granting the two of you some privacy. 

You spent your morning trying to figure out how to tell her what was going on, struggling to come up with the right words. The day went by fast and training, albeit awkward and tense, also flew by. Before you knew it, you were back home, bracing for the dreaded conversation.

Alessia seemed unusually uncomfortable, fidgeting with her hands as you walked into the familiar living room in silence. “Tea?” You asked and she nodded as she got settled.

Returning with two cups of tea minutes later, you took a seat on the opposite end of the sofa. You sat in silence, both of you playing with your teabags for a while, contemplating how to initiate the conversation.

Finally, she broke the silence, her voice hesitant. “I, uh, have been wanting to talk about the other night, you know, at the bar” she began, her words coming out slowly and anxiously. Weeks had gone by since that night, but you had not given her a single chance to talk about it since. “I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable or crossed any boundaries.” 

You waved off her apology with a small smile. “It’s fine,” you reassured her, not really wanting to think or talk about that night anymore, since you knew it was just a drunken mistake to her, and so much more than that to you. “Just... caught me off guard, is all.”

Alessia’s expression softened, like she somehow knew exactly what you meant by that. She took a deep breath before blurting out three words you had never expected to hear her say.

“Dan is gay,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “His parents are... well, they’re really homophobic.” As she spoke, you could see a mixture of pain and embarrassment etched in her features, the weight of her words heavy on her shoulders.

Your confusion must have shown on your face, prompting Alessia to continue, her words tumbling out in a rush. “And, well, my parents were like yours. They kept asking when I’m going to settle down with a boyfriend,”

As Alessia spoke, the pieces started to fall into place, and you listened intently as she unraveled the complex web of her relationship with Dan. “We were really good friends, Dan and I," she explained, “And we get along well, so we came up with this... arrangement.”

She paused, taking a moment to gather her thoughts before continuing. “We decided to pretend to be together,” she admitted, pausing again to finally look at you. “To make everyone around us happy.”

“We just get each other so well, you know?” she added, her voice small. “And we already spent so much time together, so it wasn’t hard to pretend.”

You thought about what she said. Somehow, suddenly everything made sense but at the same time nothing did. After a moment of silence, you finally found the words to break through the heaviness in the air. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” you asked, your voice gentle yet curious.

Alessia hesitated for a moment before responding, her gaze fixed on the floor. “I was embarrassed, I guess,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “And all I wanted was to focus on my career, so this seemed like an easy way to get everyone to stay off my case too.”

She paused briefly before continuing. “I love the friendship I have with him,” she explained, a hint of sadness in her voice as she looked at you. “And I never really felt the need to be more than friends with anyone anyway, so this has just always felt like it was enough for me. Well, until—” she stopped speaking abruptly, her words trailing off into silence.

“Until what?” you pressed, your curiosity piqued by her sudden pause. But Alessia shook her head, her expression guarded. “Nothing, never mind,” she replied, avoiding your gaze.

The conversation lapsed into silence again, the unanswered question hanging between you like a heavy fog. “Okay… so why are you telling me this now?” you asked, breaking the silence once more, your voice soft.

Alessia shrugged, her eyes flickering up to meet yours. “I don’t know, I guess I felt really bad about lying to you all this time,” she confessed, her voice tinged with regret. “Since we’ve gotten so close. Not many people know. In our team, it’s just Lotte actually. I really value our friendship, Y/N.”

As you sat there, letting everything she had just confessed sink in and trying to make sense of what it all meant, you suddenly noticed how uncomfortable Alessia looked. You quickly scooted over to her side of the sofa, prompting her to look up at you.

Reaching out, you placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Thank you for telling me, Less,” you said gently, offering her a reassuring smile. “You know you have nothing to be embarrassed about, right? Especially since I did the same thing with you.”

A small laugh escaped her lips, a hint of relief flickering in her eyes. “Guess we’re both experts at this fake relationship thing, huh?” she remarked, the tension in the room easing slightly.

You chuckled softly. “Yeah, now it does make a lot of sense why you came up with the idea in the first place,” you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

Alessia smiled, the embarrassment slowly fading from her features. “Well, it seems to have worked for both of us,” she quipped, her tone lightening.

Taking a sip of her tea, Alessia seemed lost in thought for a moment before meeting your gaze once more. “Thanks, though,” she said sincerely, her eyes softening. “For understanding, and for not judging me.”

You returned her smile with a soft one of your own. “There’s nothing to judge. I think it's really nice of you to do this for Dan,” you added.

Alessia’s smile widened, a touch of warmth in her eyes. “Thanks, Y/N. Means a lot.” She paused, clearly wanting to add something else, her smile fading into a frown. “So… are we okay?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, we’re okay,” you said genuinely. You didn’t exactly know why yet, but somehow you felt a sense of peace about the whole situation after the conversation you had just had.

“Good, I’m glad,” she said, a relieved sigh escaping her lips. “Cause I’ve missed hanging out with you. I was really glad we had become such good friends, and I was afraid I had ruined it all by not being honest.”

“You didn’t,” you reassured her. “I was just a little… confused,” you added, hoping to leave it at that.

She nodded. “Yeah, I get that. I hope this cleared some stuff up then.” She sent you a warm smile. As the conversation wound down, Alessia glanced at the clock, realising the lateness of the hour. “I should probably get going,” she said, rising from the sofa with a small sigh.

You nodded in understanding, standing up as well. “Yeah, no problem,” you replied, walking her to the door. Before she left, Alessia turned to. “Good night,” she whispered with a grateful smile on her face as she pulled you in for a warm hug.

“Good night, Less.”

[stillfoodforguys]

My friend Sean’s appetite had been out of control recently. Even before he started eating so much, the fact he was at least a foot taller than me with a generally broad, muscular build made me feel small and insignificant next to him. Now he’d started to have a big round gut to match the rest of him, which he always seemed to be able to fill indefinitely with whatever he deemed delicious enough. Perhaps I should have taken it as a more serious warning when he joked about being big enough to eat me in one bite, but I stupidly laughed it off at the time.

One night we decided to check out a new ramen place that had opened in our town, obviously Sean’s first choice after he heard about their massive portion sizes. It was almost hypnotic watching him slurp the thick noodles down his throat, so much that I even handed my leftovers to him just to keep him going for longer. My curious arousal at his sucking ability aside, it became ridiculous when he decided to order another full bowl and forced me to stick around until he was done. I could sense the gaze of all the other diners at the tables around us; their reactions were a mixture of awe and disgust as my friend lifted the bowl to his face to guzzle down every last drop of flavourful broth, gasping for air once he had finished.

To save us any further embarrassment, I had to call for the bill quickly and drag Sean out of there before he ordered more. Unbelievably, even all that food I’d watched him consume apparently wasn’t enough for his insatiable appetite, which he made me aware of after a hearty belch on the walk back to his car. “Man, I’m still hungry. I don’t know what’s been wrong with me lately.” I told him he should probably lay off the massive dinners for a while and placed my hands either side of his bloated belly, secretly enjoying the feeling of it’s curve and weight as I rubbed it gently.

“I just need one last snack, I think. But it would have to be substantial, a nice chunk of meat that’s big enough to keep me going for a while.” Since I was already so close to him, Sean went right ahead and took hold of my waist as he spoke, a strange gleam in his eyes that I’d never seen before. He licked his lips as he watched a bead of nervous sweat roll down my face, and I shuddered knowing exactly what he was about to say next. “Something about as big as you…”

Sean mouth widened from a sinister grin to a gaping, monstrous maw that descended over my entire head. In the absolute darkness, the sound and sensation of his tongue sliding around my face was intensified, making me squirm uncontrollably in the first moments he spent tasting me. I was soon lifted off the ground, my fists hammering against his chest but doing nothing to stop the powerful man from swallowing my head and stuffing my shoulders past his lips. My arms were crushed tightly together as they slipped into his throat, the muscles inside forcefully dragging me towards his stomach.

After pulling my pants off to make things easier, Sean continued to maneuver his wet tongue through my crotch and along my legs as he took in their flavour. Meanwhile I was uncomfortably curling up inside his tank, my body slowly filling up the sweltering space deep inside him. With a final greedy gulp, my feet went sliding down his gullet and fell into his stomach, the entrance sealing tightly behind them to secure his meal.

I struggled and begged for Sean to let me go, but all I got was a short, quiet refusal that he barely managed to fit between his satisfied belching. “So full, you really *urp* hit the spot. Really tasty too…” Being eaten alive was already scary, but what made it even worse was the fact that there wasn’t a solid piece of food siting in his gut, already having been turned into a bubbling soup. If his metabolism was that powerful, it was a clear sign that I was in for an intense and painful experience.

Sean tossed my clothes onto his passenger seat and sat down in his car, rubbing his belly while I was agonisingly melted down and my consciousness quickly dissolved away along with my physical form.

[michelle-is-writing]

Aspen, Johnny Knoxville

Word Count: 1.3k~

With how much Jackass has travelled over the years, you’d think making hotel reservations would be easier. However, it is the jackass guys we’re talking about, and even though my husband is one of the sweetest and most caring guys, he’s included in that jumble. Then again, Johnny was one of the very first members of Jackass; so the bar for common sense never started out very high.

“There’s no way I’m sharing a room with him,” Dave states as he points at Pontius, obviously upset with the hotel’s recent revelation. “Why should we all have to share a room, huh? Why can’t we just go to another hotel?”

“Because this is the one we booked, and the floor we have only has big rooms with double beds,” Jeff states, already tired of Dave’s constant complaints. “Now just shut the hell up.”

Meanwhile, Johnny and I remain silent as everyone discusses their roommate plans for the next few nights. The guys decided to go to Alaska for an upcoming skit they’re wanting to do, and already, some aren’t happy thanks to the harsh weather change.

“Well, I already found my roommate,” Johnny points out the obvious as he pulls me closer to him by my waist. I only giggle up at him as the guys groan around us. Many years of marriage later and the guys are still waiting for our honeymoon phase to be over. Unfortunately for them, I don’t think of it as just a 'phase’ that will go away sooner or later.

Playing along with him, I gasp dramatically and slap his chest gently. “You'd choose me over Steve-O? What?” I joke making him snicker as he only tugs me closer to him. I’m not much for PDA, but I’ll happily accept the little bit of warmth coming from Johnny’s hold.

“Oh, honey, I’ll always choose you,” he assures me, his face barely inches away from mine as he grins coyly. His face is so close to mine that I can even smell the cinnamon gum he has in his mouth - the same gum I watched him take out of my purse right before we got here.

Before I can stare back at Johnny’s smirking face for any longer, Bam’s voice interrupts us, sarcasm clearly laced in his voice. “Can you two just not for five fucking seconds?” He complains, the guys fake gagging around him to match his attitude. However, Johnny and I just look back at each other with unfaltering smiles on our faces.

Thankfully, the guys are able to get their rooms sorted out, allowing all of us to head up to our rooms and get comfortable. We’ve been on the road for who knows how long because somebody had the great idea to go to Aspen for some stunts. After all of the driving and harsh temperature changes due to it being late at night, you’d think Johnny would want to go to bed or just relax, but nope. Not Johnny.

It’s only after a couple rounds that Johnny is happy, and I can’t say I’m unhappy as I thoroughly enjoyed those couple of rounds. However, I can say that these rooms are pretty small, and I have no doubt that the walls are thin as well.

“I’m so happy I married you,” Johnny murmurs to me after everything, making me smile despite the growing embarrassment gnawing at me. There were several times where my ears caught the immature laughter of the guys outside, and even though we tried to keep quiet, a few moans slipped out here and there.

“I think they heard us,” I point out to Johnny in a quiet voice, but I don’t think it reaches his ears.

“You’re so stunning,” he responds, making me roll my eyes.

“Johnny, I’m serious!” I tell him, sitting up in bed. “Get up and make sure no one is outside of the door or anything, please?” I practically beg him, earning a similar eye roll back.

“…fine.” Johnny groans after a few seconds, shuffling out of bed before throwing his pants on begrudgingly. After doing so, he heads to our hotel door and unlocks it before peeking his head out and turning to look down the hallway. My eyes watch him closely, waiting for the inevitable pin to drop.

“Hey, guys, if you could keep the noise down, I’m a little busy in here,” Johnny decides to yell out, making me completely freeze in the bed.

“Why the fuck are you talking?!” I hear Bam yell back, “We’ve had to suffer for the last thirty damn minutes hearing you and (Y/n) go at it like animals in there!”

As if I wasn’t already covered up by all of the blankets because of cold, I scoot myself farther underneath the covers to hide my burning face. I’ll never be able to live this moment down with the guys, and I’ll never let Johnny forget it either.

My brain doesn’t have enough time to register the blankets being lifted up behind me before a surprised shriek leaves my lips feeling a cold body jump in bed behind me, equally chilly arms wrapping around me and pulling me close at the same time. Instantly, I recognize Johnny’s hold from anywhere and shrink more into my blankets with an embarrassed giggle. “That was mortifying, PJ!” I murmur, earning a loud laugh back from him. He knows when I use his actual name, I’m not joking around.

“I’m sorry, honey,” Johnny apologizes, nuzzling his nose into my neck as he gently rocks us back and forth in the bed. “I didn’t realize the guys were standing out there… not saying it would have changed much, but-“

My laughter cuts Johnny off from saying anymore as he begins to join me in my giggling fit. It’s only when Johnny begin to nuzzle his face into my neck that our laughter begins to die down, causing me to turn over toward him. With our noses almost touching, I smile at him as I continue to get comfortable in Johnny’s hold. The whole time, he stares at me intensely, making me lift a questioning brow at him. “What?” He asks, shuffling his body even more against me. “Can I not stare at my stunning wife?”

Hearing the descriptor from earlier leave his lips once again, I only smile at him before closing my eyes. As I do this, I take a deep breath before pushing my head deeper into the pillow beneath our heads. For a few seconds, the room remains quiet (all except for the loud music still coming from the rest of the guys’ rooms), but Johnny soon breaks that silence. It starts with the rustle of the covers before his hand rests itself on my hip and he speaks up.

“Do you feel okay?” He asks, making me reopen my eyes to look back at him. “I didn’t hurt you, right?”

I love these moments where Johnny’s sweet and caring; we might be married, but I still find my heart beating faster in the moments where Johnny shows that tender side of him as he always has to be the jokester or prankster of the group.

“No, I’m okay, honey. I promise,” I tell him before pressing a soft kiss to his lips to seal the promise. However, before I can pull away, Johnny moves a hand behind my head and kisses me back fervently. This lasts for a few more seconds until he pulls away with a small sigh.

“You know I always want to make sure,” Johnny reminds me, earning a nod back from me. With that, we’re finally able to relax together with nothing else worrying us; however, once again, it’s Johnny who ends up breaking the silence in the room.

“After this, I have realized I cannot go anywhere else without you again,” he tells me, a smirk evident in his voice. “Ready to fill out your passport, babe?”

[siriusblackloml]

Day 3 - Hermoine Granger (Kinktober 2023)

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 1200+

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: swearing, eating out (MDNI 18+)

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist┊Day 4

Your naked body rubs against Hermoine’s clothed one as both your lips devour one another. She’s hovering over you as you lie on the bed so gracefully, completely nude while your legs are spread in a way that silently asks your girlfriend to get a move on already. She had taken off her own shirt and skirt, but barely had time to process taking off the rest of her undergarments before you were pulling her by the neck into a heated kiss. It was intense, messy, and rough as the two of you swirled your tongues and bit bottom lips. You gasp at the feeling of Hermoine’s hands running up and down body. Fingers carefully fluttering over your perky nipples, down your stomach, all the way to your round thighs. The knot in your stomach was getting tighter and tighter the longer she touched you.

Just the mere thought of Hermoine licking your pussy and swirling around your clit makes your mind go blank for just a split second. You dig your fingers into the bed sheets as she starts to trail kisses down your chest and stomach. However, she takes a bit too long for your liking. Hermoine pulls away from your stomach and starts to kiss your jawline, inching closer and closer to your lips. Body on fire from every kiss she leaves behind, you start to squirm underneath her power. You let out a deep huff, craning your neck to the side to pull away from your girlfriend’s intoxicating lips. “Can you just fuck me already?”

Hermoine rolls her eyes and clicks her tongue, making your stomach explode with butterflies. You knew that this meant she would (hopefully) start doing exactly what you wanted. Hands still on your thighs, she gives them a quick squeeze and closes the gap between both your bodies by swiftly kissing you. She bites your bottom lip, making you moan softly in the process. In a cocky tone of voice, she responds, “You’re such a little brat sometimes.”

No matter how much you might whine about her taking too long, and no matter how many times Hermoine will tease you for it, she’ll always cave in. She spoils you rotten.

“I’m sorry, Hermoine, I just want you to…well, you know!” You confess, smiling ear-to-ear. You keep your legs spread, however, and interlock your ankles together behind her back as to keep your girlfriend in place above your body.

Hermoine is amused by your behavior. You could practically feel holes burning into your skull the way she stares at you for so long. She likes to just take everything in at one time; the desperation in your voice, the spit covering your mouth, the way your eyes are begging her to fuck you like a toy. She bites her bottom lip and says to you, "I hope you know I plan to push you over the edge and make you feel like heaven is on earth. It’s only adequate that I treat my baby like she’s a princess.”

Something about her ability to talk so intelligently has you completely engrossed. Not that you weren't before. Under your bottom, you could feel a patch of dampness soaking the bed sheets. Her words alone make you a miserable, drenched mess.

One last time, Hermoine kisses your chest and starts to shimmy her way down towards your wet hole. You make sure to loosen your grip on her around your ankles so she has room to move. Meanwhile, you lean back even further into the pillows and sheets and sigh blissfully. This is exactly what you were wanting. Memories flash across your mind of the first time you and Hermoine ever did anything so dirty together. It was both rough and beautiful at the same time. The first time your girlfriend was slipping her tongue within you struck you as surreal. She has a way of getting you to finish in minutes, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

She knew exactly what to do to make you itch. It usually started with the whispers in your ear, then the kissing up and down your body. It all led up to this moment where she would finally treat your pussy like it was a candy meant to be eaten. Her hot breaths on your inner thigh leave you whiny again, repeatedly begging her like it was a mantra. “Please, please, please eat me out! Please, Hermoine!”

She finally shuts you up by pressing her mouth against your hole. Hermoine flattens her tongue against your folds and licks at the slick that was spilling out of you. You exhale a breath you hadn't known you'd been holding. You gasp at the sensation of her tongue working like clockwork in between your folds. She was moving everywhere that made you whimper with delight, up and down, side to side. "My, my, you taste so good," she murmurs against you, "I adore eating you out."

You can barely choke out any words the more she laps at your pussy. You throw your head back and let out a strangled moan, shutting your eyes tight as you enjoy the wondrous sensation. Her tongue caught you off guard, resting flat on your skin and licking broad stripes from bottom to clit. Hermoine's lips make harsh sucking noises as she extends her tongue to poke your sensitive nub. You can feel her giggle against your hole as you cry embarrassingly loudly, muttering under your breath at how fantastic it feels.

“Oh my- fuck, Hermoine!” You whine as she starts to suckle at your clit over and over again.

As she inserts her tongue inside you, a surge of delight washes over you. Your brow furrows in pleasure as Hermoine ravishes your cunt, sucking it over and over. The feeling in your stomach tightens as your body shakes with ecstasy. You'll soon be on fire merely from Hermoine's power.

"Fuck! Yes!" You practically scream, slowing down after being smacked with such a powerful surge of pleasure.

While your body shakes from the ultimate high, Hermoine pulls away from her spot on the bed. Her cheeks and chin were dripping with wetness and it only made her cute smile all the more sexy. Hermoine finally came around and promised exactly what she threatened you with earlier; you swear your body was in heaven right now.

“Wow, baby. You took me so well.” Hermoine giggles, pushing herself up from the bed to sit on her knees.

With your pointed finger, you motion for Hermoine to come closer to you. She lays her hands and knees on the bed to crawl towards you as she hovers over your body. You cup her cheek with your hand, pulling her into a wet kiss. Juices flood your mouth as the two of you fight for dominance with your tongues. You smile and hum to yourself as you taste your wetness on your tongue. As Hermoine pulls away, you can’t help but move your hand from her cheek to behind her back. You unclip her bra and watch as the undergarment falls forward, unleashing her beautiful breasts.

You tell her in a sultry tone and with a small wink, “I think it’s my turn to help you now.”

TAGLIST: @calmspencer, @baddiebbarbietngz, @slytherclaw1978, @serendipitous-fernweh, @pandanation24, @rachelreallyroars, @tinafuentes, @chvmpion-jack, @ethereallovr, @godknows-shetried, @waggoth, @ellieswhor3, @wildestdreamers-tv, @faefaes-world

[star-rie]

when your servant is a little shite

-----------------------

Then Merlin looks at Gaius, who’s sitting there, eyeing him as if he knows what Merlin is going to do.

‘Merlin, no’

‘Merlin yes’

or

Merlin tests the limits of Arthur’s patience.

-----------------------

alternatively, ao3 link

original prompt

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4 (you're here), PART 5, PART 6

-----------------------

Arthur is waiting for a trial.

Earlier that day, a woman had come crying at the castle gate. Begging an audience with the king. She brought her son’s corpse, blaming it on her neighbor.

He cried innocence when the guards dragged him from his home into Camelot’s cell. And so here they are, in the throne room, airtight, waiting for their trial.

Merlin knows the truth; of course he does; he did his own investigation behind Arthur’s back. He sort of had a plan for how this trial would play out, and he hoped he could execute it.

“What’s taking them so long?” Arthur asks from his throne, and Merlin shrugs.

Arthur sighs, staring intently at the door. Five minutes later, they hadn't arrived yet. “Did we get the time right?”

“Yes, twelve on the dot sire, they’re late." Merlin said

It’s not an unusual occurrence; there was that one time they had to cancel a trial because the witness didn’t show up. They were later found dead in the forest.

Arthur stands and says, “I’m going to look for them.”

Merlin immediately stops him, sitting him down on his throne. “My Lord, you must remember, patience is key.”

“What use does the key have if the problem isn’t here yet?”

Right, that was a bad analogy. But Arthur can’t go outside because, well, let’s just say Merlin prepared something that he didn’t want Arthur to see. Merlin starts to think of ways to keep Arthur in place.

They’ll come eventually, Merlin is confident. But for how long, he’s not sure.

Merlin looks at the door, still tightly shut. Hm. And then he looks at Arthur and the empty throne beside him.

Oh.

Well, Merlin had been wanting to test this theory for a while, but he couldn’t do so without looking absolutely disrespectful and rude. And truthfully, he still feels embarrassed about the stunt he pulled at the second annual economics conference.

But seeing Sir Lunard and his friend’s faces after the conference brings him joys he cannot describe. They’re here too, in the corner of the room, probably gossiping about Merlin again. I can’t blame them.

Merlin looks at the empty throne again. Mulling over his choices. Well, this might be rude and disrespectful, but at least it kept Arthur sitting.

So Merlin pats Arthur’s shoulder, giving him what hopefully is a reassuring smile before he goes to sit on the Queen’s chair. If the court wasn’t looking at them, they’re staring now.

Merlin could already feel another round of lecturing tonight from the old man across the room.

“Merlin, what are you doing?” Arthur asks for the third time that week.

“I am sitting, sir, because my legs are tired." that was the same excuse as last time. “And I want to see if what you said about the chair being as hard as ‘Gwen's flooring back when I disguised myself as a peasant’ is true.”

Arthur's face gapes like a fish, trying to make sense of what’s happening, but before he could argue, the group came in, the mother and a man, accompanied by a set of guards.

The mother was hysterical, and the man was pale. Meanwhile, the guards are silently questioning Merlin’s position on the queen's throne. It would have been funny if not for the dead baby on the floor.

“My son, my poor son,” she cried loudly, sniffing into her cloth.

“I didn’t do it!” The man cried and did not question why there are two men sitting on the throne when there’s supposed to be one king.

“Now let’s just be calm." Arthur was caught off guard by the mother’s wail, holding her son’s body close to her chest.

“This rascal snuck into my house to steal my gold, and he killed my son! How could you do this? He’s only a baby!”

“I didn’t do it! I swear it's my mother’s name!” he begs, kneeling on the floor. “You have to believe me, your majesty, this woman is framing me!”

“How could you say such cruel things? The proof is there!”

“It’s not proof! It’s all lies!!” He said, gripping his hair so hard it might fall off his scalp. "Please, your majesty!”

“My son, your highness! My son is dead!”

“She’s lying, your highness!”

“Don’t believe anything that came out of this thief’s mouth.“

"Stop,” Arthur said, silencing them. Arthur massages his temple, thinking for a while, before he turns to look at Merlin. “What do you think?”

Merlin, having already figured everything out, said to him, "Well, for starters, Gaius, do you mind analyzing the cause of death?”

“Isn’t it clear? He gutted his throat! It’s all there to see!” she said

“It’s true, sir." Elyan said, presenting a bloody hatchet. “This was found at the man’s home.”

The court whispers loudly at this new revelation. Merlin leans on his hand. “Then I assumed you would have no problem if the court physician were to check his body.”

“Search all you want, you won’t find anything,” she laughs. Merlin nods at her, and Gaius goes to check on the baby. It took a few minutes before Gaius widened his eyes, obviously faking his surprise. “Why, he’s been poisoned.”

The mother stiffens. The court gasped, whispering loudly, “What type of Gaius?” Merlin asks him

“From the symptoms, I think it might be hemlock.”

“Interesting, thank you, Gaius.”

Gaius stands, and then starts to stare at him. 'Merlin, why are you sitting on the Queen’s throne? This is ridiculous even for you; get off there right now!’

Merlin nods, dismissing him, ‘No.

Gaius sighs, nodding before going back to the audience.

Merlin continues to address the court. “That’s an interesting revelation, but that certainly doesn’t prove anything. Sir Elyan, did you find any sort of potion while you were searching the thief’s house?”

"No, we did not,” he answers, connecting the pieces.

“I see. Now, may you please call Sir Leon and Lady Guinevere for me. They’re waiting outside.” Elyan nods, going outside to fetch them. Arthur immediately turns to him in disbelief, and Merlin shrugs, smiling.

Leon and Gwen both came in with a woman. Befuddled at Merlin’s position, but their faces turned grim once they saw the baby on the floor.

“We were called?” Leon asked

"Yes, Sir Leon, may you please introduce this woman to the court?” Merlin gestures to the woman beside him.

Leon nods. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the shopkeeper at the edge of town; she has something she wants to say,” Leon said, giving an encouraging nod to her.

She sighs, uncertain, looking at Merlin before she eventually says, “It was two nights ago... I usually don’t sell potions, but I encounter them on my journey. So as a shopkeeper, I keep it at the edge of my shelf. No one bought it for months, until... She looks at the mother and sighs.

“I shouldn’t have kept it; I shouldn’t even have sold it, but I did remember this woman coming to my shop late at night, as for the man, I never saw him in my life.”

“You liar!” She screams, launching at her, and the guards hold her down.

Merlin, completely dismissing her, continues to ask her, “And did she buy the potion?”

She was silent, looking at the woman in front of her, and then at the dead child, before eventually saying, "Yes,”

“Does the bottle that you sell have some sort of writing on it?” Merlin continues

“I remember it saying ‘hemlock’” She said she was unsure. The court is wild, whispers turn into full-on conversations.

“But I’m not sure; I could be wrong,“ she says as Arthur raises his hand to silence the court.

“No, it’s alright, miss; that's very useful information. Thank you; that’s very brave of you,” Merlin said, approving her.

“Now, I want everyone to take a look at this. Lady Guinevere, would you mind telling the court what you’re holding?”

She stepped forward, holding a clothed object. “I found this at her home. Everyone is so focused on the man’s house, so I searched at the mother’s house instead. I thought that we could find some new insights and this is what I found.” She said, showing an empty bottle with the word ‘hemlock’ written on it.

The mother has gone pale. “But—“

“I rest my case your honor” he said to Arthur, gesturing for the guards to hold her down, stopping her from attacking them

Then, Merlin turns to Arthur, who’s staring at him, too stunned to do anything. “What Merlin?”

“The verdict”

“Oh yes! The verdict!” Arthur said, standing in front of them. Merlin followed immediately.

“By the court of Camelot, you are found guilty of murder; does anyone have any objections?”

Everyone stayed silent, shaking their heads.

“I object! The king framed me!” She says this, pointing at Merlin.

"Um, no, I’m the King. He’s my…” He looks at Merlin. "He's, uh, he's—according to the laws of Camelot, you are sentenced to death.”

“WHAT?” She yelled at him as the guards dragged her away, cursing King Arthur’s and his lineage to come.

“Thank you, thank you so much, King Arthur. I am forever indebted to you!” The man thanked him, bowing at Merlin.

"Wait, no, no, I’m not—“

“I shall train and join your knight's sire! I realize now that it is my duty to protect you! Please wait for me, my king!" He said, grasping Merlin’s hand before bowing at Arthur. “Sir!”

But before they could say anything, he had already run off, probably to share his wonderful tale of King Arthur.

"He's never seen you before, hasn’t he?”

"No,” Arthur said, pursing his lips and staring into him. And it was at this moment that Merlin just remembered that he had been sitting on the queen’s throne for an indefinite amount of time, probably just insulting Arthur’s mom, his future wife, and his whole ancestry.

Merlin waited nervously before Arthur said, “Thank you, Merlin,” and walked off to brief the guards, like nothing had happened.

It seems like the court appreciation for Merlin has gone up, they no longer scowl when they meet him.

The next time they hold a trial, Arthur insists that he sits at the Queen’s throne.

“You’re the jury at this point; I might as well give you a special seat,” he said when Merlin told him the whole notion was ridiculous.

[saiyanprincessswanie]

Chrome & Leather - Chp 18

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC

Word Count: 4484

Summary: Steve and Jessie continue to have intimate time with one another and discuss their future together. Things seem to be going well until a Hydra Biker stops by her job and gives Jessie a bad feeling. Meanwhile, Frank is trying to figure out who jigsaw is and how to take him and the Hydra bikers down. With Billy refusing to let Jessie go he has a heated conversation with her.

Warnings: Smut, fingering, slight breeding kink, angst

A/N: thank you to my betas @pigwidgeonxo​ & @lfnr-blog-blog-blog​@whimsicalrogers for the divider thank you.

Reblogs & Comments on Tumblr are welcomed and encouraged. Even if you leave an emoji you will make my day. 😊💜

I do NOT give my consent to have my work translated or reposted on any social media platform, apps, or third-party sites. If you see my work anywhere besides my personal Tumblr & AO3 accounts, it has been stolen. I will NEVER give written or verbal permission to repost or translate any of my fanfics as they’re MY intellectual property. 🚫🚫

Jessie woke to warm, soft kisses that trailed from her shoulder to her back. She sighed as Steve’s fingers rubbed from her hip to her sweet petals between her legs. Jessie was feeling aroused by the time he rubbed her clit a few times. If there was anything that Steve was good at it was making her feel good. Steve’s fingers slid their way to her wet channel and slowly pumped two fingers in and out of her. Jessie let out a soft moan from the feeling he was bringing over her as he softly started to speed up his ministrations. She rolled onto her back to make it easier for him to bring her pleasure. Her legs fell open as he continued to work her over.

Steve lightly kissed her forehead while he continued to take her apart. Her breathy moans were building more and more as his fingers found her sweet spot inside her. Rubbing against her spongy wall had her cumming for him.

“Steve!” She moaned out as her back arched off the bed and her fingers held onto the sheets.

Steve climbed on top of her, parting her legs wider, and smiled down at her. “Good morning sweetheart.”

Jessie’s eyes fluttered as she smiled up at him. “Morning Stevie.”

Steve ran his cock through her arousal a few times before he started to sink into her. He dropped to his forearms and started to thrust into her. The slow motions are what they both needed after their wild night between the sheets. Jessie wrapped her legs around his slim waist as he made love to her. Every push and pull had them both groaning in pleasure.  

“I-I need more,” Jessie begged.

Steve chuckled against her neck and he whispered in her ear, “More? Wasn’t last night enough? Here I’m trying to be gentle with you and you’re begging me to fuck you. Is that what you want? Me to manhandle you?”

Jessie mewled, “Yes I need it. Want it.”

After a few more thrusts Steve pulled out of her and rolled her to her stomach. Gently he pulled her to her knees while she rested on her arms. Steve grabbed her by the hips and thrust back into her. Jessie’s moan filled the bedroom as Steve started to quicken his pace.

“God, you feel so good wrapped around my cock. I could stay buried inside you all the time.” Steve grabbed her arm and pulled her against his chest while he continued to take her apart.

“Oh God, Stevie right there!” Jessie’s eyes closed from the pleasure he was giving her.

His cock had found her spot that drove her wild and he had to say he loved hearing her moans change in pitch.

“Don’t stop…” She mewled out.

With every squeeze of her walls, Steve was getting closer to his end. He started to plow into her harder. “You wanna cum for me like a good girl?” Jessie could only answer with a groan. “Yeah, you’re gonna take every last drop of me again.” His voice dropped deeper as he whispered in her ear. “Maybe this will be the one to get you pregnant again. God, how I would love to see you grow round with my child. Do you want that?”

That was just what she needed to hear as she came hard for him screaming, “Yes yes yes!”

Her walls hugged his cock tightly and Steve chased his end with a few hard thrusts. He came deep inside her and moaned her name to the heavens. Once he finished he pulled out of her and fell beside her so he could catch his breath.

Jessie looked over at Steve and smiled. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what sweetheart?”

“That you want to see me grow round with your child. That you want another baby?”’

Steve couldn’t help the grin on his face. “I mean yeah. I missed out on Ben being a baby and I would love to have another with you if you want. Hell, I would marry you tomorrow if you let me.”

Jessie’s eyes filled with happy tears. “I would love another child with you. Maybe we can start talking again about being engaged. I still have the ring you gave me.”

“I would like that doll. Now considering how much sex we had all night and this morning I’m sure something stuck. If not then we will continue to try. Sounds good?”

“Sounds perfect. You know Steve, we sure are dirty, why don’t we take a shower and maybe try again.” Jessie grinned as she got out of bed and ran to her master bathroom.

“You naughty minx. I’m right behind you.” Steve followed Jessie into the bathroom. He didn’t need to be told twice to put a baby in her.

***

Jessie arrived at her job with a spring in her step. Wanda and Nat gave her a knowing smile as she went to the office to clock in. After clocking in Jessie started to wait on people in her section. There was one man who had made her stop in her tracks. He was the same man Steve and her ran into five years ago. He was muscular, with brown hair and green eyes. He was a biker wearing his cut that said Hydra on it. If anything he was in the wrong territory as Steve’s biker club was the main one in this town.

Cautiously she approached the man. “What can I get ya started with today?”

The man looked up at her, his green eyes staring into her blue ones. “Coffee, black. Nothing else sweet cheeks.”

Jessie nodded her head and quickly went to grab a pot of coffee and a mug. She came back, placed the mug down, and poured him a cup. The man nodded his head dismissing her and she went behind the counter to talk to Nat.

“We may have a problem on our hands. I have a Hydra club member sitting in my section. I thought they weren’t allowed to cross over into our town?” Jessie asked Nat.

Nat looked over to the man who was sipping his coffee and watching them. “What did he want?”

“Just coffee.”

“Strange,” Nat stated. “Well, we will keep an eye on him. If he starts anything Bucky, Steve, and the guys are down the road. No need to get them riled up over nothing.”

Jessie agreed and continued to wait on her other customers. The man flagged Jessie down and gave her money for the coffee. When she went to get his change at the register she noticed he walked out and got on his bike. Revving his engine he peeled out of the parking lot and out of sight. Something about him sent a chill down her spine. She would need to tell Steve about this later. For now, Jessie went about her day by staying bust through the lunch rush. It would soon be two o’clock and she would be picking up Ben.

***

It was close to five o’clock when Jessie decided to take Ben and meet Steve at the garage. Ben loved going down there and this would give her a chance to speak with him and Bucky. When she arrived she was greeted by Thor.

Jessie smiled at him. “Hey, are the guys busy? I need to talk with them.”

Thor smiled back. “They are in the office. I'm sure it’s nothing important. Do you want me to entertain my favorite nephew of mine?”

“That would be great.” Jessie let go of Ben’s hand and let him run towards Thor. Thor scooped Ben up and placed him on his shoulders. As soon as they walked into the garage all the guys were cheering for Ben and greeting him. Jessie shook her head as she headed up to the office. When she got to the top of the stairs the door was wide open and Bucky was calling her in.

“Sorry to interrupt the both of you but I wanted to share something.” Steve and Bucky stared at her for a moment.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Steve asked.

Jessie took a deep breath and proceeded to tell them what happened at the diner. Both men were listening intently and were not happy about this development. She explained her concerns about the situation as this didn’t feel right to her.

Steve looked over to Bucky. “This isn’t the first time Jack crossed over to our town. I saw him when Jessie and I were out on my bike. Plus he was looking for me just a while ago. What do you think he wants?”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “No telling. But whatever it is, it's not good. We are going to continue having Clint follow you in the mornings and afternoons. This way if something bad is coming you and Ben are protected.”

“Thank you so much. I’m more concerned about Ben than anything else.” Jessie would kill anyone that brought harm to her son. She would have no regrets doing what a mama bear should protect her young.

Steve walked over to Jessie and lightly grabbed her hands. “Nothing will happen to you or Ben. I will make sure of it. I will protect you with my life.”

“Me too sis. Don’t worry too much about Jack. We will handle him.” Bucky reassured her. “Now since it’s closing time why don’t you both head home? I can close up the shop tonight.”

Steve nodded his head as he took her by the hand and led her out of the office. When they came downstairs they saw their friends gathered around Ben as Tony was explaining to him how to change a tire. Ben knelt next to his uncle and listened closely to what he said. Steve and Jessie stopped to watch as Tony had Ben help him to tighten the bolts.

“There ya go sport. Use your muscles to tighten them.” Tony proudly said.

“If I keep doing this will I have muscles like my daddy?” Ben innocently asked.

“Of course, you will. Just like we all have muscles from working on cars and bikes all day long.” Clint added.

Tony and Ben tightened the last bolt and finished. Ben cheered that he did it. When he looked up he spotted his parents.”Did you see me? I fixed the tire all by myself. I can be like Daddy now and fix stuff.” Ben ran over to them and Steve scooped him up in his arms.

“You want to be like me?” Steve asked.

Ben shook his head like crazy. “Yup, just like you.”

“Awww buddy that means a lot to me. You will make a fine mechanic one day. Now thank Uncle Tony for teaching you.”

Ben looked back at Tony. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome sport.” Tony and the other men waved goodbye to them as they made their way to her truck and his bike.

Steve put Ben in the backseat of her truck and seatbelted him in. Once he closed the door he kissed Jessie on the lips. “See you at home sweetheart.”

“See you in a few Daddy.” She seductively said.

Steve gave her a grin. “Now don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“Oh, we will finish this later.” As she went to hop up into the truck Steve quickly swatted her butt. Jessie gave him a knowing smile and closed her door. As she pulled away Steve jumped on his bike and followed them home.

***

Frank sat behind his desk in his office going over files that he received from the local FBI office. The files contained information about the Hydra club and a mysterious man named Jigsaw. He read how Jigsaw ran this area with an iron fist with Hydra working under him. The man was feared among the locals as he collected debts that families owed Pierce. If you didn’t pay he would burn your house down. This was the man that Frank was looking for. The man who murdered his family in a house fire while he was working one night. Once he lost everything Frank decided to get into law enforcement so he could catch this guy. Whoever this Jigsaw was he was going to pay with his life.

First things first, try to catch Hydra and bring them to justice. Second, kill Jigsaw. All he needed was information from John Walker. He heard rumors that John worked with Jigsaw. This was the lead he was going to work on. With John already tried in court for lying under oath in the Barnes and Rogers murder case all Frank had to do was contact the federal government to see where they shipped him off to. With John filled with information, they were afraid Jigsaw would order a hit on him that way no one could figure out the identity of Jigsaw. Looks like Frank is going to take a few days off to get the information he needs.

***

Billy was pacing his office after he got word that Steve and Jessie were back together again. Didn’t Steve know that Jessie belonged to him and him alone? He was going to have to get Hydra to handle the biker who follows Jessie around town every day. That way he could get close to her and beg her to come back to him. He missed Jessie and Ben. For a moment they were a family and he had everything he wanted in life. How he longed for her. The taste of her, the smell of her, the way she felt under him. All of it was a drug to him and he wanted to get high on her.

If begging her doesn’t work then he would go with his backup plan. He grinned to himself, sometimes you have to play the bad guy to get what you want and he could play the role perfectly. If Steve tried to get in his way again he would take care of him as he did Brock. Picking up the phone he dialed Jack. On the second ring, he picked up.

“Hey, I need you to do something for me. I need you to take Jessie's little escort to and from her home out. I believe his name is Clint. Run the guy off the road but no shooting him. The last thing we need is a war between clubs right now.”

“Yes, boss. We will take care of this problem for you.”

“Good.” Billy hung up the phone and started thinking about what he would do with his short time with Jessie. Would she want to hear him out or would she be stubborn and brush him off? He wanted to see where she was emotionally and physically with Steve. God that man was a thorn in his side. For now, he will look to tomorrow afternoon.

***

The next day went by as usual. Steve took Ben to school and Jessie went about her normal routine before heading into work. Yet again she was met by the biker who sat in her section. Not thinking too much about him she grabbed his coffee for him and went about waiting on other customers. By the time she knew it, the man left and the rest of her shift flew by. Waving goodbye to her friends she headed to her truck and was met by Clint as usual.

“How are you doing today,” she called out to him.

“Doing well. The shop was busy as usual. Steve is closing tonight so Bucky and Nat can meet with a photographer and baker for the wedding. Do you want me to stay until he gets home?”

Jessie shook her head. “No, I think we will be just fine.”

Clint nodded his head as he started his bike. The first stop was to pick up Ben. When they arrived Jessie got out of the Truck and waited for Ben by the front of the school. As the kids made their way out Ben came running up to his mom and showed her a painting he did of her, Steve, and him.

“Wow look what my talented boy painted for the house. This is going on the refrigerator when we get home so Daddy can see.”

Ben was so excited. “Do you think he will like it?”

“I’m sure he will. Now let us get you home so you can have a snack.” Ben grabbed his mom’s hand and they walked back to the truck. Jessie got him inside and seatbelted as she placed his things on the back seat. Nodding to Clint who was parked behind her she got back in her truck and they headed home. The drive through town was nice as a soft breeze blew through her window. She got to a stop sign and made her turn. Continuing down the road a ways she looked in her rearview window and noticed he wasn’t behind her. This was odd as he always followed her. Maybe he got held up at the stop sign or got a call. She was going to see if he showed up at the house before she turned around. Driving a little bit further she finally pulled into her driveway. Before she could decide to turn around a sheriff's car pulled behind her blocking her in. Looking in her rearview mirror she saw Billy get out. Great, just what she needed.

“Ben, I need you to stay here for a minute for me, okay?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

Jessie opened her door and walked to the back of the truck meeting Billy face to face. “Is there something I can help you with, Sheriff?”

“My you look lovely Jessie. It’s been a while since we last saw each other. How are things with you and Ben?”

“Things are fine with us. If you remember I asked you not to come around us anymore. It confuses Ben. Plus I’m with Steve now so this is not appropriate.”

Billy’s eyes narrowed at her. “You’re with Steve? That was fast. In one bed and into another. That’s definitely not the woman I expected you to be.”

Jessie didn’t like where this was going. “Look what I do with my life and whose bed I’m in is no longer a concern to you. Remember I broke up with you cause you laid a hand on me. I could have gotten you in trouble with your job but I took the high road and left. Now if there is nothing official with your visit I would like you to leave.”

“Can’t you see I miss you? What happened that night was a mistake. I never meant to hurt you. I’ve been with you for five years and you just threw it away like it was nothing. I want you back Jessie. You belong to me. Just give me another chance.”

“First of all, I belong to no one. I choose who I’m with and that person isn’t you. It never will be ever again. What happened that night wasn’t the first time you laid a hand on me but I made a promise to myself it would be the last. Ben doesn’t deserve to be raised in that atmosphere. He deserves a family unit and that is what Steve gives us. So again I’m asking you to leave my property or I plan to file a complaint against you for harassment.”

Billy was fuming now, his fists clenched at his side. What he would give to make her his submissive again. He would fuck the attitude out of her. She seems to now have a backbone since being with Steve. No matter if she wanted to do things the hard way then that’s what was going to happen.

“Fine, make me your villain. I have to say it’s not good having the sheriff as an enemy. You never know who could get hurt. Speaking of where is your dear friend Clint?” Billy grinned at her as he got back into his vehicle and slowly pulled away. “Let’s get one thing clear here: I own this town. Best you remember that before you threaten me.”

Her breathing was fast from how angry he made her but she also felt scared. What did he mean when he said he owns the town? He was just a sheriff and could still get in trouble, right? Then her mind cut to Clint. She headed back to the driver’s side door ready to look for him when she heard the familiar rumble of an engine. She looked over her shoulder and saw Clint. Jessie got Ben out of the truck and grabbed his things before heading to the house. She placed his stuff on the counter and told Ben to grab a snack while she talked to Clint.

Heading back outside she took in his appearance and noticed he looked sore. Clint got off his bike and limped toward her to sit on the stairs.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I was following you until we got to the stop sign. As soon as I went to go some idiot clipped me and I crashed. Thankfully no major injuries and the bike is fine. Was going to hash out insurance information but the person left the scene of the accident. What about you are you okay? I saw a sheriff’s vehicle pull away from the house.”

Jessie sighed in defeat. “It was the ex.”

“What did that clown want?”

Jessie explained the conversation she had with Billy. “I just wish he would leave me alone. Clearly, I’ve moved on now.”

“I hope you will tell Steve about this. He needs to know.”

“I will. I'm gonna go inside to check up on Ben. If you want to hang out I believe cartoons and goldfish crackers are going on inside the living room.”

“As tempting as that is, I'm going to head back to the shop. Just be careful and stay inside.”

“Will do.” Jessie waved goodbye to her friend and went inside to rest until Steve got home.

***

Later that evening when Steve came home he knew something was off with Jessie. She was avoiding conversation about her day until Ben went to bed. Nothing good was going to come from this conversation but he understood she needed to talk later. Dinner came and went, Jessie had Steve bathe Ben for her and get him settled for the night. By the time he came downstairs, she was in the living room with just the lights on.

“Hey sweetheart, what happened today?”

Jessie sighed. “Billy stopped by. Lord knows he tries my patience.” Jessie explained in detail their conversation and how she is scared he will try something. “I just feel like he isn’t going to let this go. What happens when we decide to get married? Is he going to interrupt that too?”

Steve moved closer to her and held her close. “That bastard won’t ruin anything with us. I will make sure of it. When we decide to get married we can keep it simple and under the radar of him. Course need to get engaged first.”

Jessie smiled at him. “About that I was thinking maybe, if you wanted to, we could be engaged again. I mean only if you want to…”

“Why Jessie are you proposing?” Steve gave her a big grin as he pulled her into his lap.

“Maybe I am. What do you say?”

“I say let’s take this upstairs and I will show you what my answer is.” Steve picks Jessie up and carries her up the stairs. When they close the door they are on each other. Clothes are flying everywhere and once they are naked they fall into bed together. Steve moves down her body and licks a stripe up her slit causing her to moan. His tongue moves through her lips over and over again. Her breathy moans keep climbing the more his mouth works her over. His lips then move to her clit as he pushes two fingers into her. Slowly he works her body over and gets her just on the edge of cumming when he suddenly stops.

“Only way you’re cumming tonight is on my cock. He turns her over to her stomach and pulls her hips up to meet his. Slowly he rubs his cock through her wet lips before pushing inside her. His pace is slow but firm as he takes her from behind. Little mewls exit her mouth with every push and pull motion. “Say you want to marry me.”

“I-I want to marry you. I want to be your wife.” Jessie whines at him as his pace starts to pick up.

“God do I love the sound of that. My wife. It’s long overdue.” Steve grunts as he starts thrusting harder into her. The sound of skin slapping against fills the room as they try to keep their moaning down. He keeps plowing into her until Jessie finally tenses from her orgasm and moans Steve’s name. As her walls contract around him Steve cums deep inside her. He works them both through their orgasm before he pulls out of her.

He lays on his back as she crawls to her nightstand. Pulling out a small jewelry box she reaches in and grabs the engagement ring Steve gave her years ago. Placing it on her finger she crawls back to Steve to show him.

“You never got rid of it? After all these years?” He asks.

“After all these years I guess I just knew we were meant to be deep down inside. I want to be your wife Steve. I want to have future babies with you. We deserve to be happy and have that future we always wanted.”

Steve kissed her passionately as he held her close. Tongues softly caressed the other as they sigh in contentment.

“I say whenever you are ready and wanting, let's do this.” She says.

“What if I said one week?” He mischievously smiled.

“Then I would say we have a lot of planning to do.”

***

tags:

@americasass81

@caffiend-queen

@charmed-asylum

@denisemarieangelina

@fictional-affairs

@georgiapeach30513

@get0verit

@hollybee8917

@joannie95

@jobean12-blog

@jvanilly

@labella420

@lfnr-blog-blog-blog

@madscape

@mdemontespan1667

@mrsmischief209

@mycrazyasslikestoread

@nekoannie-chan

@notyourtypicalrose

@patzammit

@princessofdarkwinter

@rayofdawnworld

@reneeenders

@sweater-daddiesdumbdork

@wolfsmom1

@what-is-your-plan-today

@writercole

@missvelvetsstuff

@jtargaryen18

[the-roo-too]

fancy -> guitarist! bae

-a step by step tutorial on how to make advertisements, be painfully obvious and get a possible girlfriend

warnings: bae needs help; gay panicking on every corner

genre: fluff

notes: featuring itzy, rest of nmixx and jisung of nct; nmixx is kinda a band?; this was supposed to come out on valentine’s day…

↺͏͏ ° << ll >> ⋮≡

“you’re kidding, right?”

“i’m really sorry.”

you sigh. in front of you stands a boy from the upper grade, jisung. he was supposed to play the guitar and accompany you on this year’s school music festival, but as it turns out, that wasn’t happening anymore. a week until the event and you’re suddenly without a guitarist. it wouldn’t be that bad if jisung backed out a couple days earlier, before you submitted for the live performance section. technically, you could fake being sick on the day of the festival, but that would make your class look bad, as you were the chosen participant.

the only other logical option seems to be looking for another guitarist. the problem is, basically every good player is already busy. your section is one of the most anticipated but also biggest, with many people wanting to take part in it. if not that, you’d ask ryujin for help, she played with you last year. this year though, she represents some band she’s part of. you’re left at a dead end. 

you text your group chat, asking for ideas. after most of them laugh at your misery, finally someone proposes to make a couple flyers and hang them around school. it’s a cliche idea, really, but with only a week to spare, you aren’t about to be picky. you text a upper grader who owns you after you covered for her at play rehearsal, choi jisu. she got out of the read-through of the script with your help, and went on a date with ryujin instead. jisu is a computer science major, so she’s the obvious first choice when you need to print some flyers out. 

through the text, the older girl tells you to meet her at the lab, where she was testing some softwares. with a ‘be there in 5’ message, you make your way upstairs, towards the science department of the building.

“took you long enough.” you glare at jisu, who sits snuggly in her chair, her hair in a low bun and a pair of glasses perched on her nose. you greet her back, as she turns in her seat to face you.

“so you want to cash in the favour, huh?”

“you could say that.”

“what do you need then, y/nnie?” she scans you head to toe, as if the answer would magically jump out.

“you remember jisung? he bailed out on me, was supposed to be my guitarist on this music even next week.” jisu’s expression momentarily changes from curiosity to shock, to understanding, until she finally starts looking angry.

“i am so getting jinnie to beat him up.” you note in the back of your mind to never get jisu too mad at you, or you won’t avoid ryujin’s fist.

“uh, yea, point is that yeji suggested i ask you to make some flyers? like, ‘looking for a guitarist’ or something. i know how it sounds but that’s really the only idea i have-“

“i get it, kiddo. i’ll have something by tomorrow, how’s that? meanwhile make a ad on facebook or something.” you nod your head, turning on your heel to leave the room. with a quick goodbye, you’re already out the door, just barely hearing jisu shout ‘good luck’ from the inside.

↺͏͏ ° << ll >> ⋮≡

the school music festival is just ‘round the corner and jinsol’s having second thoughts. despite her friends begging her to join them at their performance, she declined, saying her guitar skills weren’t that much compared to the other band mates. which isn’t exactly the truth as the only other person who can play other than her is lily, and she practically fought jiwoo to be the one in charge of the drums.

the group consist of seven members during rehearsals, but on their first year, they all agreed that making it to the performances wouldn’t be mandatory. the band could always do it without one or two instruments. this year, after applying for the live performance section in the school’s music festival, the group initially wanted to play together, but kyujin backed out. she said some major exams were coming up and after showing haewon her reviser, which was almost as thick as bae’s guitar, the leader allowed the younger to sit out the performance.

now it’s five days until the event and jinsol’s talked her way out of the group performance. it’s not that she plays guitar badly, but truth be told, she’s learning the instrument the shortest, compared to the other members. she picked guitar randomly when they created the band, as that was what they were lacking, and she taught herself how to play it. the others all practiced their chosen instruments way before.

the true reason why bae decided to abandon the group (as jinni quite dramatically expressed) is actually really embarrassing. it’s because she saw this cute girl frantically running around the cafeteria the previous day, handing some flyers to people passing by.

to tell the truth, jinsol saw her once before. even back then, she thought the girl was pretty, but she couldn’t exactly express it, as she was busy apologising to her for hitting her straight in the face with a handball during p.e. she’s sure the girl doesn’t remember her nor the little accident (she really hopes so), but there is still something holding her back from confronting the latter.

jinsol’s gripping the flyer tightly in her hand as she knocks on the door of one of her best friend’s dorms. she’s fidgeting with the piece of paper, nervously waiting for the other to appear. she perks up at the sound of the doors opening. there stands her trusted right hand, sullyoon.

“bae? what’s up?”

“i need some advice.”

↺͏͏ ° << ll >> ⋮≡

“how’s the search going?” you resist the urge to roll your eyes as shin yuna, a dear friend of yours, speaks up.

“are you really curious about that?”

“i couldn’t care less to be honest but chae told me to be nice so…”

“i swear to god, shin.” the taller girl on your side laughs, attracting the attention of other’s gathered near the table.

“no but seriously, anyone messaged you or something?” lia asks, finally turning away from her girlfriend. ryujin also gives you her time of the day as she glances at you with a look of sympathy.

“no one. four days left and i’m at loss of options. if someone doesn’t show up today, we wouldn’t even have enough time to practice the piece.” you whine, hiding your face in your hands. lia hums lightly, but she also has no idea what to do.

“what about the girl who’s glancing over right now?” you glare at yuna, thinking she’s joking. with a roll of her eyes, she subtly points a group couple tables away from you, where in fact a girl seems to have her eyes on you.

“who’s that? she seems familiar…” you agree with ryujin as you try to pin point where you’ve seen the face before.

“and what about her?” you face yuna as you speak.

“didn’t you notice how she’s been observing you for like two days?” all the heads around the table turn to look at the younger shin bewildered.

“um, no?”

“gosh, y’all so blind!”

“you’re just staring at people unprovoked! it’s creepy?” you’re about to start a (hopefully playful) fight with yuna, when lia suddenly perks up.

“wasn’t she the one to hit your face with the handball?”

↺͏͏ ° << ll >> ⋮≡

“you’re staring~”

“hush!”

“if i were her, i’d be freaked out to be honest.”

jinsol glares at sullyoon, who smirks teasingly. after talking with the older girl, bae was set on facing the cute girl. she just needed a little preparation?

“stop it, i don’t need everyone around here to know about it.” she elbows yoona, hoping the other would finally keep quiet.

“know about what?”

“n-nothing, haewon!” surprised, she almost jumps out of the chair.

“did you forget the math homework i reminded you three times of?”

“uh, yea, sorry.” she gazes at the cute girl’s table again, surprised to see that one of her friends seemed to catch her staring. “shit.”

“what happened?”

“i forgot my lucky pen at mr son’s class, be right back!” bae bolts out of her seat, hoping it doesn’t look as awkward from the cute girl’s table. yoona doesn’t even get to question her further before she leaves the canteen.

“she has a lucky pen?”

“i thought i broke it last monday.”

↺͏͏ ° << ll >> ⋮≡

“there she goes.”

“yuna, please stop stalking people.”

“she stalked y/n first?”

“shut up everyone!” both lia and yuna look at you with a apologetic look. “can we just not? i am not in the mood for gossip.”

“jeez, you fine bro?”

“i’m bummed out about the performance, you know? i was really excited for it this year.” you mutter in response, hiding your head in your palms.

“the target reappeared?”

“shut up yuna i’m having a moment.”

“no because some girl bolted out of her seat when she left and now she’s dragging her back to the table by her ear?”

“yuna i swear to god-“

“just look over there!” so you direct your gaze to the table which the younger shin’s been obsessing over. the short haired girl who was staring at you earlier sits back at her seat, seemingly getting scolded by another girl?

“now i’m kinda invested.”

“can y’all shut up i’m trying to read their lips.” you shake your head at your friend’s antics. the girl at the far away table looks at you for a brief moment, then back at the other girl towering over her, then back at you. she pushes the other’s hand off her shoulder and stands up.

“she’s coming over here!” you’re sure the whole canteen is watching your table now because of yuna. but just as she said, the short haired girl is making her way towards you.

“um, hi!” she comes to a halt in front of you. she appears nervous under your friend’s stares, rightfully so. “i’m jinsol, uh, i saw you around.”

“y/n. that’s-“

“jinsol?” you glance at yuna, who squints at the newcomer. “aren’t you a friend of yoona?”

“yes!”

“what brings you here, jinsol?” you direct the girl’s attention away from the younger shin.

“ah, that. i saw you giving out flyers the other day and i picked up one of them and it said you needed a guitarist and coincidentally i’m a guitar player and sullyoon told me to talk to you but i-“

lia, who until now seemed to be deep in though, speaks up suddenly, cutting jinsol’s banter.

“yeah, you hit y/n with the handball! that was her, wasn’t it?” you see ryujin stand with her eyes suspiciously glaring at the newcomer, and you basically jump from the table.

“it’s loud in here, i can barely understand you. why don’t we talk in the library? there shouldn’t be anyone else at this hour.” and you grab jinsol by her wrist, saving her from facing ryujin.

↺͏͏ ° << ll >> ⋮≡

a million thoughts forms in bae’s mind as she lets the cute girl drag her from the canteen. not one of them is coherent as she wonders if the girl who glared at her just a second ago would hunt her down now. hopefully not.

it takes a while before they arrive at the library, where true to y/n’s words, seems to be little to no one. the girl leads jinsol to a more secluded table, where she’s sure no one will interrupt them.

“so, jinsol.” she gulps lowly. somehow now that she’s one on one with the other girl, the situation feels tense. “what we’re you trying to say before jisu cut you off? i apologise on her behalf by the what, that was rude.”

“no no, it’s fine! and i, uh, the flyers? i play guitar at my band but i already told them i won’t play this year because something came up so now i’m free and yeah.”

“you’re free?”

“i ditched them as jinni said. it’s just that- well- i don’t really know. i just saw you handing the flyers yesterday and thought you’re cute- yeah, here i am.” she swears her heart melts when the cute girl giggles at her banter.

“so you ditched a band just because you thought i’m cute?”

“kyujin ditched them too!”

“did she also think i’m cute?”

“…she had some major exams coming up.”

↺͏͏ ° << ll >> ⋮≡

in the back of your mind, it’s almost impossible how much chemistry you have on stage with the girl whom you’ve meet four days ago. as the two of you step off the stage after your performance, jinsol gets stolen away by jinni, a friend of hers, who firstly whines about how she ditched the band, and then congratulates the both of you. she says you were magical out there and she’s right, that was the best performance you ever had. definitely better than it would go with jisung.

“so… would you mind getting a coffee with me later, after this is over?” bae finally freed herself from the strawberry blonde. she came to you, a shy smile adoring her lips.

“gladly. thank you for playing with me, really. i thought i was doomed when jisung backed out.”

“i’m glad we could play together, y/n.”

she catches your hand in hers and smiles wider. you swear her band mates are groaning in the background.

“i’m glad too, jinsol.”

↺͏͏ ° << ll >> ⋮≡

[analiavs]

Remy Free Use

Cw/tags: free use, dog boys, centaurs, pig boy, degradation, minor mindbreak

Words: 3355

AO3 link for those that prefer:

Remy was brushing Hot to Trot. His precious stallion had just won best in show effortlessly. 

“Thanks for the apples boss. I’m glad to have pleased you.” 

“You’re always such a good boy for me.” He brushed happily while he praised him. His eyes caught on a certain part of his centaur's anatomy. While he was distracted the brush slipped out of his hand. It dropped into a giant  hole in the stable wall. He tsked. Hadn’t he told Charlie to fix it ages ago… docked wages for everyone then. He reached in to get it. It had landed farther than he’d expected.

He got on his tippy toes to try and reach it and finally managed to grab it. But lost his balance and couldn’t get back out. He tried his best but his feet couldn’t reach the ground.

“Uh, little help here.” He felt a pair of hands on his ass. They rubbed all over him trying to get a good grip, but it just felt like he was being groped. 

“Of course boss… Um it's just… I can’t get a good grip on your hips.”

“Just use my pants then! Hurry up before someone notices!” 

“Yes sir!” With one ineffectual yank his pants were ripped off him. 

“…Whoops.”

“Damn it! What if someone sees me like this!”

“Oh uh… I know!” He felt his boots get yanked off and the rest of his visible clothes getting stripped off. 

“I’ll hide your clothes that way if someone comes before I free you they’ll think you’re a cow.” 

“Why would a cow be in the stables?” He felt Hot-to-Trot spread his cheeks. 

“To get some dick?” He offered unhelpfully. 

“Besides we both know how you were really gonna reward me.”  That… was a fair point, and the leftovers from an earlier liaison dripped out.

“See you’re already lubed… c’mon please?” He felt that wondrous shaft rub against him and his hesitation melted away.

“Fine but make it quick. I don’t need anyone getting ideas…” The novelty of getting fucked in such a position intrigued him, though he wondered how Hot to Trot would ge the necessary mobility.

He didn’t have to wonder for too long. He hilted in one thrust. He covered his mouth to muffle any sounds, though the thrusts were disappointingly shallow he couldn’t risk being recognized.

It wasn’t the kind of sex he was used to, and he found he was more sensitive to it. He wished the breeding bench was more private, it was more comfortable. He bit back a moan as Hot to Trot really started to get into it.

“Oi is that the boss I hear? Can I go next plea- oh! Is this a gift for us?” 

“Feck off! I’m the one who won the competition.”He recognized the centaur and knew that his dick was sublime. Maybe another round wouldn’t hurt.

“Uf, ah it’s fine. After Hot to Trot finishes you can go next Sapphire Dream.” The second he agreed he heard a symphony of his centaurs begging for a turn. 

“What about me?” Moor Fantasies. Thicker than average.

“And me?” Spotted Lightning. Curved.

“Please can I get a turn? It's been so long!” Jumping Juniper. The longest of all his centaurs. He came at the thought of taking all of them back to back. Meanwhile Hot to Trot gave his last couple thrusts before shooting inside. 

“Whatever fine. All of you can get a turn, just as long as no one blows my cover.” He muttered, as he felt Sapphire Dream pushing to take Hot to Trots place. Something rubbed on his ass cheek and without any fanfare, Sapphire Dream pushed into him. As always his technique was mind melting, and he had to focus extra hard on staying quiet. No one should disturb his centaurs, but he couldn’t imagine the cover up if one of the farmhands overheard.

His toes curled as he orgasmed again. Centaur after centaur, most came inside him. Others came all over his ass and thighs. He realized they were using a marker to leave tallymarks. At least they were being discrete. 

“Oi you lot? What’s all the ruckus in this pen, ‘avin a party without us?” He heard one of his dog boy overseers speaking. He couldn’t believe there were so many witnesses. He heard some laughter and compliments.

“I’d know that ass anywhere. Who's got next round?” Somebody smacked his ass, as the centaur inside him bucked harder. Hot to Trot spoke up.

“You want a go at ‘im have at it. Boss got stuck, maybe a fat knot can pull him out.” 

“Shit let me gather the boys and we’ll make a competition of it. Brutus might be the only one who can actually do it tho.” While Sparky presumably left to go get backup, the centaurs kept fucking him. When it was finally the dogboys’ turn to have a go at him, he immediately knew the difference. 

While their cocks were smaller, being bipedal afforded them more mobility. So the pleasure was still there. They were off to a great start with Shredder, whose length and skill had always been satisfactory.

“Don’t worry boss, we know how you like it so I only brought the biggest dogs. No toys here.” He heard Sparky say while a hand rubbed his ass. 

“Shit your ass is skilled. All those fucking centaurs and you still feel like a dream.” Shredder moaned. His dick twitched at the compliment. 

“Shame his mouth’s not available.” Whined Patches.

“We’re on a mission, remember? Whoever gets the boss out gets to be alpha for a day.” Another orgasm was wrung out of him. He took his hands off his mouth to feel at his bloated belly, with all the cum inside him he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to get out. 

Shredder came inside him, and stuck his knot in with ease. Unfortunately, he popped out with one yank. His toes curled as he came once again, jeers and cheers rang out through the stable. He felt another tally mark get added. And the next contestant took a stab at it. 

His boys were so well trained. Some were more enthusiastic, spanking him or planting kisses on his cheeks. But none of them were able to keep their knots in for more than a couple pulls. Finally, he sensed Brutus, the dog boy biggest in size and cock, stepping up to him. His hands spread his cheeks. Cum dripped out of his hole, and his own dripped down his thighs.

“The state of you. Boss you know I hate sloppy seconds, but I don’t think I can eat all this cum out of you. Tusk would probably love to feast on this. Heh, maybe we’ll go find him after my go.” He felt Brutus push in and closed his eyes. His thickness always made him go cross-eyed, and with his sensitivity currently maximized a moan slipped out before he quickly muffled himself. Brutus started talking him through it,

“Mmm, one day I’ll be able to fuck you in an open field. You won’t have to hide a thing. You’ll be able to take all the dick you could ever want without a care in the world. Scream as loud as you want, free as can be.” The fantasy and the physical pleasure had him cumming again. Brutus fucked him through his orgasm and he felt that knot press it’s way in. He bit his hand to keep his mouth shut. 

When Brutus was finally locked in with him, he started trying to pull him out. It was actually the closest he’d gotten to being pulled out of the hole. But his stomach was too swollen with cum. His freedom no closer, he tried to contribute to his freeing, but he didn’t budge. Brutus sighed and gave up.

“Hm, I’d keep trying but I don’t want to hurt you. Guess you really are stuck huh Boss?” He felt another tally mark get added, and the two of them settled in. This was fun, but he was starting to get seriously concerned he was stuck. 

“Who told you fuckers you could have an orgy in here!” He heard one of the farmhands shouting. His stomach dropped, he heard Brutus cuss under his breath. 

“Listen, it’s our stable, we can do what we want. Remy told you guys treat us with respect.”

“Remy’s not here right now is he? You’ll obey me.” Who was this low level farmhand to disrespect his centaurs, he bristled with anger. He thought he could act with impunity, he’d turn the bastard. 

“Why’s that fucking mutt stuck to the wall?” He heard Brutus growl.

“Get outta here or I’ll rip out your throat!” He snarled. He’d never heard Brutus sound so possessive.

“You can’t say that to me, wait till I tell the supervisor!” He couldn’t stand that whiny voice. 

“Fuck the little bastards gone to tell. We gotta dash! Suck in your gut boss, sorry if it hurts.” He heard rustling in the stable as he and Brutus doubled their effort to get him out. He didn’t budge and even Brutus managed to pull his way out of his ass. Cum streamed down his legs. And he felt two pairs of hands trying to pull him out. He didn’t budge and worse he could hear the farmhands returning.

“I swear it’s true!” The farmhand must of brought back up.

“Fuck! Sorry boss! If the loser tries to get handsy we’ll rip his head off for you.” He was left hanging there. Cum slowly dripping out of him. He hoped he wasn’t completely visible. He heard Charile 

“The only thing in here is a centaur Lyle. Get outta my sight I’m sick of you wasting my time.”

“But I swear I saw- ” 

“Out of my sight!” The stable went silent for a minute. He heard Charlie speak a few minutes later,

“So what’s that behind you?”

“A cow wandered in, we’ve been having fun with ‘em.”

“I’ve never seen a horseshoe brand before, must be new. I’ll have a go then and Remy won’t find out.” He hadn’t even realized his tattoo patch had been peeled off. Hot to Trot had the nerve to chuckle before asquiencing,

“Go ahead.” He felt human hands spreading his ass cheeks. 

“A right mess, but ass is ass.” He heard a belt getting unbuckled and pants dropping. He expected a cock plunging in, instead he was jolted by the sting of a belt. 

He let out one quickly muffled yelp as Charlie started whaling on his ass and thighs. He hated being spanked, but to his dismay his dick started getting hard. Smack, smack, smack, smack… he lost track of how many. But Charlie’s strength didn’t falter. He came shamefully and tried to hide it with his thighs. Hot to Trots chuckles only deepened his embarrassment. When his ass was sore and covered with welts the spanking finally stopped. 

“I can tell you’re a right little slut. Haven’t begged once to be freed. Naughty cows who sneak out their pens get punished, if you want centaur dick get it in the field ok. I don’t want to catch you sneaking in here again.” A hand rubbed at his ass cheeks before a cock finally pushed its way in.

“I dunno Charlie, seems like he liked his punishment.” 

“Shit with an ass like this I’ll punish him as many times as he needs.”

“Heh, don’t let Remy catch you doling out unapproved punishments.” A hand slapped his already sore ass.

“Psh with a dick this small he’s got a long way to go till his production is high enough to matter.” For the first since his ordeal his dick got rubbed and he came immediately. 

“Aw” Charlie cooed. “I could fall in love with this ass, it’s a shame Remy won’t sell. I’ll keep an eye out for you in the field, horseshoe.” A few more thrusts and Charlie pressed against his back. While he doodled on his backside Charlie muttered to himself.

“That was heavenly. I might be in love.” He heard the sound of pants being adjusted and a camera shutter.

“It’s not a problem, long as it ends up back in its pen by nightfall.” With one last smack to his ass Charlie left. 

“I’m having another go. Then we’ll see about getting you out.” Hot to Trot said. He was spineless as he got fucked again. This time Hot to Trot came all over his ass. Their desires sated for the time being the two renewed their efforts to get him out. Unfortunately try as they might he was stuck fast. 

Some of the centaurs and dogboys came back and tried workshopping solutions. Of course he wasn’t neglected, they kept a solid train going while they tried to come up with ideas. 

“Oi we saw Charles walking with an unusual zest for life after coming in here? Oh? What have we here?” Hot to Trot was quick to speak.

“A slutty little cow. You boys want a go?”

“Hell yeah! I’m going next.” He heard camera shutters as the centaur finished inside him. Within seconds the eager farmhand was taking his centaurs place. At least he couldn’t recognize them, but he wasn’t sure how he would face his employees tomorrow. Their technique was lacking even in his overstimulated state. They laughed and degraded him as they took their turns. Hopefully they would finish quickly and he could get a few more centaurs in. 

“I wonder if he could take two of us at once.” As worthless as their dicks were, he could probably take three of them if they could figure out the positioning. They spread his ass wide and laughed as they prodded at him trying to fit.

“Wait, hahaha, Niki get a good shot of this.” 

“Um well see, Mr. Remy hasn’t-” 

“Remy’s not here bruv. Don’t worry it’ll be for our own private collections.” A few seconds later he heard cheers and whoops, so he could infer that he was being filmed. He was going to kill them. Anyone he could trace back to this was getting turned.Though he could begrudgingly admit that the double penetration was passable. 

The one on the left was rabbiting into him, while the one on the right paced his thrusts. He felt an orgasm slowly building, maybe he would train his dog boys to triple team him. 

The pair actually managed to sync their orgasms. If he could speak he would have teased them. The pair pulled out abruptly and added their tally marks without any concern for his pleasure. His ruined orgasm had him gritting his teeth. 

“Why don’t you have a go cameraman?” 

“Oh, I’m quite alright. I just like to watch.” They booed him and started a chant.

“Fuck the slut!” He could kick them, these imbeciles were going to get even more attention.

“Alright! Fine I’ll fuck him! Happy?” The cheers had him rolling his eyes, how ripped could the bastard be? Niki never so much as got an erection at the shoots. 

The whooping and wolf whistles continued. Niki pressed against his rim almost nervously. He suppressed a sigh, a dick with no confidence, how disappointing. 

But when he finally pushed in he had to reconsider his assessment. Niki was on the larger side of all his human partners. He tried to hump against Niki’s dick, if Niki wouldn’t put his back into it he might as well take what he needed. Tragically he was stuck fast. 

“Oh you’re desperate for it huh? Heh, just this once, I’ll participate.” Then came the first thrust, the clap of his ass resonated throughout the barn. A hand on his back kept him stable as Niki started building up strength. Drool slipped out his mouth. He might just have to turn him into a bull. 

He covered his mouth to stifle any noise. Niki was really showing these louts how it was done. Of course, the peanut gallery had commentary. 

“Damn they’re really getting into it!” Niki grunted at that, but his thrusts only intensified. His eyes rolled up as he finally orgasmed. He wasn’t sure if it was dry or not. The overwhelming stickiness was really the only thing he could feel down there.

“Aw look at his little dick twitch! How cute!” 

“Tch, I’m missing an amazing shot, but pov shots are en vogue. Hah, your amazing darling, you were made for the camera.” Niki rubbed his thigh gently before finally hilting and cumming inside.

When he pulled out a hand spread his cheek and kept him there till some of the spend dripped out. 

“Thank you darling, I think I’ve found a new muse.” A gentle hand petted his thigh before adding yet another tally mark. 

After that it was a blur of nondescript dicks interspersed with dog boys and centaurs being used as entertainment. He savored those moments, along with the occasional well endowed farmhand. He wasn’t sure how long it’d been or how many. He’d long since lost count. A gruff voice broke him out of the haze.

“Har har har, oh you stupid slut!” A giant hand slapped his ass. Of course Big Tusk had finally made his appearance. He felt the greedy hog press his mouth against his rim and start eating the cum out of him.

Hopefully the pig would eat enough that he could finally get pulled out the damn hole. Honestly at this point he didn't even care if his identity got discovered.

Once Tusk decided he was full, he of course took his turn fucking him. The massive weird cock had always been a guilty pleasure for him, but overstimulated he could feel every curve inside of him. Tusk was rougher than usual and his stomach bulged with every thrust. He had one last almost painful orgasm as Tusk twitched inside of him.

The asshole laughed and left his tally mark. And then with one final slap on his ass he was left. He heard Hot to Trot speak up,

“Alright you lot that's enough innit, poor little bugger has probably had all the sense fucked out of him.” He was grateful there was finally a voice of reason. Though there were some complaints they left him alone. A few minutes later Hot to Trot spoke directly to him,

“They've gone. While the humans were passing you around I went and got an axe, so I should have you out in a bit. Just relax.” His response was more of a noise than a coherent thought. He was limp as Hot to Trot broke down the wall holding him hostage. Once he was free he was lifted gently and placed on his own two feet. Immediately his legs turned to jello and he struggled to hold himself up. Luckily, his centaur kept him standing up.

“My word you're a mess. Brutus got you some overalls, so you can be a bit more discrete leaving.” Hot to Trot was gentle while he helped him dress. His mind was still a bit fuzzy but he was starting to ground himself.

“Alright now get before anyone sees you.” With a kiss on the forehead he was sent out. He staggered out of the stable, thankfully with the presence of mind to check for anyone. With his stomach bloated and cum dripping down his leg, it would be obvious to any participant who he really was.

He was slow and meticulous making his way back to the mansion. But it wasn't too difficult, he was experienced sneaking around the farm after all. 

Once he made it to his bedroom, he resisted the urge to crawl straight into bed and forced himself to his bathroom. He finally got a good look at himself in the mirror and gasped.

His lower half was practically covered in bruises and tally marks. And he was covered in so much cum it looked like he had taken a milk bath. All this would definitely clog his damn plumbing, but he couldn't help but wonder when he'd do it again.

[hawkinsbanishedhero]

like uncle, like nephew: chapter one

summary: frankie, eddie’s son, runs off in search for his favourite flavour of ice cream. pairing: single dad!eddie munson x gn!reader word count: 949

series masterlist | next part

a/n: had to get roped into the single dad!eddie trope - 

Eddie swears he was paying attention to little Frankie whilst they were out on their weekly grocery trip. He even had his hand holding his incredibly smaller hand as well. And yet the four year old still managed to slip away. He must have walked away when he let his hand go. But that was only for a second!

“Shit. I mean- Fuck!” Eddie whispered loudly. He tried so hard not to swear. He had gotten into the habit of substituting the words when he had taken Frankie in but in his panic, he couldn’t help but swear.

How could he have not noticed? He’s a good dad. He swears it! He began to panic. What if he never saw Frankie again? What if everyone points and whispers about how much of a bad dad he is? They’ve been waiting for him to mess up and now it’s happened! And he swore he would never be like his dad but here he was! With a missing child.

“Frankie?” Eddie calls out as he looks down each aisle, completely abandoning his cart. So far all of them were Frankie-less.

This was not good.

Meanwhile, [Y/N] was in the freezer aisle, debating on what flavour of ice cream they should get this time round. They were so deep in thought that they almost didn’t feel the tiny hand that tugged at their trouser leg. They looked down confused.

“Are you okay?” [Y/N] asked.

“I like the rocky road.” The boy said. Their question was completely ignored. “It’s my favourite.”

“Is it now?”  They tried not to laugh at his bluntness. “Where are your parents, kiddo?”

“Dad’s in another aisle.”

“And you left him?”

“I wanted ice cream.”

“Right…” Their words dragged out. How else were they supposed to respond? “What if we go and find-”

“Frankie!” A man’s voice cut in.

The owner of the voice, [Y/N] presumed that this was the child's dad, ran down to the end of the aisle and swooped Frankie up into his arms. A breath of relief left his lips as he hugged him.

“You scared me, buddy.” He placed Frankie on the floor again and crouched down with his hands on his tiny shoulders. “Where did you go? Did someone take you?”

“No.” Frankie answered quietly. “I wanted to get some ice cream…”

“Let me know next time, yeah?” He says seriously, though a smile made its way onto his face. He couldn’t bring himself to be that mad. Especially when he looked so adorable.

He gave his son’s hair a ruffle before he stood up again. He then finally noticed someone else was standing near Frankie. His mouth opened and closed a few times. He felt a little embarrassed all of a sudden.

“Sorry.” He licked his lips, finally able to get his words out. “I hope he didn’t bother you?”

“He didn’t.” They said with a smile. “He was just telling me about his favourite ice cream flavour-”

“Rocky road.” They both said at the same time.

They both began to laugh at the same time. Frankie stood closer to Eddie and rested his head on his side. He immediately brought a hand to his son’s head and started to rub the top of it.

“Yeah, the little rascal practically begs for it every time we come to the store.” He teased.

“It’s good.” Frankie chimed in.

“Well, I'll have to get it then.” They said with a smile, immediately searching for a carton to put in their cart.

Frankie’s eyes lit up at their words. He started to jump up and down on the spot with a smile. [Y/N] couldn’t help but smile wider at his actions. Eddie’s eyes softened at their interaction. Not many people, specifically adults, paid any mind to Frankie. Deeming him as the “freak’s unnatural offspring”. Which was absurd. Those words stung Eddie. Sure they can make fun of him all they want. But being mean to his son? That was too far. There were some adults that were kind to Frankie but it was still refreshing to see this complete stranger treat him normally without any malice behind their words.

“I’m Eddie… Eddie Munson.” He began. “And this is Frankie.”

They introduced themselves to the father and son duo. Then, the two adults just stood there smiling at one another. Eddie found himself being drawn to them. Which he didn’t think was possible. Especially since they had only just met.

“Well, I’ll leave you both to it. It was nice to meet you.”

[Y/N] was just about to walk away when Eddie called out to them.

“Hey, could I… Could I maybe get your number?” 

He surprised himself at his words. He knows he should be careful. Especially since he had to think about Frankie whenever he wanted to potentially ask someone on a date. He didn’t want him to get too attached to anyone who might not end up sticking around. Well, it’s not like he had a huge line of people waiting to date him. No. That line was non-existent. But there was something different about [Y/N]. He felt like he could trust them.

“Sure.” [Y/N] said with a shy smile. They quickly tore off a bit of their shopping list and wrote down their number.

Eddie felt like he couldn’t close his mouth when he got handed the piece of paper. He didn’t even register them walking away, or him dumbly waving to them. Frankie huffed before he repeatedly hit his dad’s arm.

“Dad! Can we get rocky road ice cream now?” 

“Hm? Oh yeah sure. I’ll get you all the rocky road you desire, hm?”

[secret-diary-of-an-fa]

Doctor Who: Space Babies and The Devil's Chord Review. Because Why the Fuck Not.

I was watching the BAFTAs the other day. No, that’s not quite right. Let me try again: the BAFTAs were happening in front of me on a TV at someone’s house and I was powerless to look away. It may be the first example I’ve ever seen of a circle-jerk being staged in the middle of a car-crash: a whole fucking hall-load of people congratulating themselves on having shat out another year’s worth of insipid, uninspired telly (sometimes about Issues with a capital I, often about nothing at fucking all) while the entirety of culture burns to a cinder around them. What a bunch of arseholes. The highlight was confused non-arsehole Timothy Spall looking like he’d wandered on-set from a parallel universe and giving a rambling, unrehearsed speech about nothing in particular, which went on uncomfortably long and which I sincerely hope annoyed the tits off everyone else present. Meanwhile, the special award for creepiest moment has to go to Floella Benjamin (she of Round Window frame- I mean fame) staring straight into the camera and declaring her undying and unconditional love for the viewer. Made my skin crawl a bit, if I’m honest, like maybe she had a really powerful pair of binoculars and she’d be watching me the next time I went for a poop, whispering sweet nothings into the night air. Meanwhile, conspicuous by its absence from this glittering orgy of beige content was Doctor Who, the show I’m actually here to review! Now that’s a seamless fucking segue, innit?

The first two episodes of Who (2024) aired back to back this Saturday and, as both a lifelong lover of good Who and an overprotective psychopath who’d happily kill anyone whose ever besmirched it with a bad episode, it falls to me to judge this double-bill outing. Since I’m neither a grovelling fuckwit in the access media nor a knee-jerk reactionary pillock, I might be the only person on the internet who’s prepared to give you a genuinely unbiased opinion based on the actual quality of what ended up on screen. Don’t think that means this review will be reasonable or genteel in its tone, though: I’m still a stone-cold cunt with impossibly high standards. So, without further ado, let’s dive in. I’ll take a very brief look at the individual episodes, then try and figure out what they say about the series overall and where it might be headed.

First off, Episode 1: Space Babies. It probably isn’t the worst episode in Doctor Who history, but with a monster made of snot and a supporting cast comprised of talking babies, it may be the most wilfully and determinedly stupid. It’s a bit like it was made on a dare- like someone said to showrunner Russel T. Davies “I bet you can’t get away with an episode about of a bunch of infants trapped on a spaceship with an evil sneeze” and he was drunk enough to reply “I’m Russel The Davies! I can do whatever I fucking like, except use my legs for walking right now!” There’s some enjoyable stuff here- mainly Ncuti Gatwa having to simultaneously act well, but also not act convincingly enough to scare the actual, real live toddlers they used on-set. Meanwhile, the monster is very, very obviously a rubber suit with wonky fingers whenever it’s not a dodgy CGI effect. I don’t mind, per say, since wobbling sets and crap costumes are part of the charm of Who, but it does beg the question: WHERE THE FUCK DID ALL THE MONEY DISNEY PUT INTO THE SHOW FUCKING GO?

Next, Episode 2: The Devil’s Chord, which is mostly a vast improvement, though I do have some gripes. An entity calling themselves Maestro, created by the Celestial Toymaker, claws their way into the world via the mind of a musical genius (and the top of a grand piano) and begins stripping all melody from the universe, aiming to silence the Music of the Spheres itself and create a formal lament or dirge from the infinite sorrow: the ultimate artistic statement made using the ruins of a dead cosmos. On a purely conceptual level, it’s fantastically interesting, macabre and inventive. I also quite liked the Beatles cameos, since it takes place in the 60s, but they don’t really get a lot to do and it feels like an opportunity was missed to turn them into the emotional backbone of the episode. Surely Maestro should be a lot more interested in/hostile to these musical geniuses? Without her expressing the slightest inclination to single them out, there’s no sense of immediate physical threat, relegating all the menace to the conceptual level. There’s also not much reason for the Doctor to talk to them, so we’re deprived of the chance to see this new take on the character interacting with people other than companion Ruby Sunday and the odd talking baby (I really hope those aren’t going to be a recurring thing, by the way). Meanwhile, drag queen Jinkx Monsoon (who doesn’t seem to know that you don’t need a K if you’re going to add an X) does a passable job as Maestro. She’s got the over-the-top theatrics of a self-amusing supervillain down to a fine art, but she doesn’t quite have the presence to land her more serious lines. There’s no equivalent here to the spine-chilling “This is only a face, covering a vastness that will never cease” bit from the Tennant episode The Giggle. Which is a shame, because clearly Monsoon isn’t a bad actress, she’s just new at it and probably needed more coaching to land the heavy stuff.I do also have one other minor complaint: the musical number at the end isn’t good enough for an episode that’s all about music. They clearly wrote it especially for the show, but it’s just a bit rubbish and they could have just covered an infinitely more lyrically interesting Beatles song, couldn’t they? Fucking idiots. On the plus side, I really can’t emphasise enough how engaging the idea of the episode is. And we do get an amazing shot of London devastated by some kind of war in an alternate future, which was ace. Honestly, I know I sound like I’m complaining a lot about this episode, but it was actually a lot of fun. I just hope that the show hits its stride and preserves the good elements while evolving past the stuff that doesn’t work.

See, there’s a lot of positives here in the double-bill: there are interesting ideas and a fair amount of creative risk-taking, which- even when it doesn’t work- is evidence of a show willing to experiment and find what works. But there is also a huge, overarching problem that needs to be addressed before this latest Who reboot can hit its stride. Bluntly,if I had to describe this double-bill season opener using one word, I’d probably choose the word ‘rushed’. In both Space Babies and The Devil’s Chord, but especially the latter, the story zips manically from plot-point to set-piece and back again with very little breathing room in between. Jokes that ought to be set up early and then pay off later to create space and a sense of continuity just get told with mechanical, rapid-fire pacing and then forgotten (there’s a bit about changing the evolutionary history of the human race by stepping on a butterfly that flies past so quickly it’s barely worth a smirk). Characters who needed to be fleshed out just aren’t because there isn’t time to do that and also stage ridiculous musical number (as a result, there’s never much sense of threat. We know the show won’t kill off the Doctor or his companion, so the cannon-fodder who might die need to be well-characterised enough that we give a shit). Many of the effects look like they were thrown together in an afternoon because the production team decided to go for cheap-and-easy CGI over practical, tactile, more believable effects. Most egregiously of all, there’s even a certain obviousness to the way things look and function. Sometimes, it looks like the show designed its props and sets by going through a big catalogue of sci-fi and costume-drama tropes and places and then just picking out whatever matched best. Compared to the craftsmanship put into, say, WWII London in The Empty Child or the sprawling planetary library of Silence in the Library (both of which were realised on piss-poor budgets compared to current Who), it’s woefully disappointing.

Don’t get me wrong, Who is still worth a watch. Ncuti Gatwa’s a decent leading man, even if he hasn’t been given time to settle into the character thanks to the manic pacing of his adventures, and it’s obvious Russel T. Davies isn’t short of ideas, even if some of them are curate’s eggs of dubious quality. But if the show wants to get back to the height of its popularity, it needs to slow down and smell the roses a little. The production team need to be encouraged to do things the hard way, because it looks better. The plots need more talking and detailed character interaction to compliment the action and silliness. When something bombastic and over-the-top is happening, it needs to feel earned. Who people: start throwing in a few two-parters and de-emphasise the Disney money you’ve been given in favour of careful plotting. There’s something worth loving here, but it’s buried in quite a lot of bullshit at the moment. Get a shovel and dig it out.

EDIT: I would like to acknowledge that the thing about the Doctor being able to hear the show's incidental music is the fun kind of stupid and not the annoying kind.

[schrodingers-romy]

i’m dropping in to plague you with my thirsty thoughts so sorry in advance

thinking abt asking mitsuya for more rounds than he can physically go for … he’s out of breath feeling like an old geezer bc he’s panting and his back is sore, and he’s kinda worrying that he’s not satisfying you and that’s why you keep asking for another go … but in reality he’s just so fine that the more you see him sweaty and spent the more feral you feel … i could bite straight through a metal cage rn so sorry im dipping out now bye

ARSGFHSDF VENUS

Oh no I can imagine it perfectly...

Poor mitsuya is so tired, his back is aching from pounding into you for so long...he's so sensitive, bordering on overstimulated, but you keep asking for more, and there's no way in hell he's stopping before you're completely satisfied. So he grips the sheets next to your head harder and puts his all into reducing you into as much of an exhausted mess as he is now.

Meanwhile you are just as overstimulated, but seeing him like this sets a fire in you; you don't want him to stop until one of you passes out. Mitsuya is almost lying on top of you now, and you can feel the warm breath of every heavy pant wash over your flushed face. His hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his whole body glistens with it. His breathing is ragged and his face is flushed red, but he still fucks into you with all his might, just because you begged him to.

[arghdgsfh i can picture him so well i'm going to go insane he's so pretty and perfect]

[theuniversitychallengereview]

Ep 4 - Coventry vs Cardiff

In last week’s review, I mentioned that I had erroneously thought LSE to be one of the largest Universities in the UK, when in fact it ranks 89th in terms of student population. I had been going to make the point that they were underperforming relative to their size, but it turned out that that wasn’t the case.

What I found out instead was that Coventry ranks 4th on the list of biggest institutions, but in the previous twenty six years of Paxman’s quizmastery they had not made a single appearance. So I was going to slag them off for this, before deciding that it would have been needlessly mean, because there will be any number of reasons for this, not least the fact that Oxford and Cambridge get five slots a year each, and also because who really cares. And it's a good job I didn’t end up writing that hatchet job, because look who we had on the very next week!

If you haven’t already, you can watch the episode here before watching the episode:

Coventry’s opponents, Cardiff, have appeared on the show seven times, with two quarter-finals under their belt, the last of these coming in 2014.

I watched this with my gf on Monday while nursing a Bottomless Brunch hangover, so I have no notes unlike the last few weeks, meaning that I’m going to have to do this old school and watch the whole episode again - what a terrible thing to have to do.

Anyway, let's get on with this, Coventry’s first ever starter for ten.

Coventry’s first member Buratti is studying automotive journalism, but you can’t see him as a presenter on TopGear anytime soon. His name is one letter away from Bugatti though, which would have at least given him a fighting chance.

The rest of the team are studying more common subjects like Ancient Greek, English and Environmental Science and they are mascotted by an elephant. Cardiff, meanwhile, are represented by a red dragon, who is called Dylan, and who reached the final of the 2020 World University Mascot Rankings (the winner being Wolfie from the University of Limerick. I’m not sure how global this vote actually was though, because the finalists were all British, and the vote was conducted by the Twitter account Bantshire University, which I’m pretty sure isn't even a real county)

Balkwill-Western misses the first starter for Cardiff, giving Coventry the chance to pick up their first ever points, but Harrod doesn’t get it either, and the question goes begging. Buratti, perhaps unsurprisingly, gets the next starter - on trains - and Coventry are up and running. Choo Choo!

Two bonuses on Cycle Route 1 follow, before a wrong answer from Goel allowed Balkwill-Western to get Cardiff involved with South Korea and they tied the game with a pair of bonuses on scientific theories.

One of these is spontaneous generation, the idea that living creatures could arise from nonliving matter, which was apparently held as fact for two millennia, and was supposedly disproven in 1668 by Francesco Redi, who put some meat in a jar and observed that it did not generate maggots, as had been the theory. This certainly disproved the 'maggots from meat' part of spontaneous generation, but it doesn’t disprove the 'mice from mud' part, or the 'barnacle goose from goose barnacle' part (though I suspect those have been disproven more comprehensively since. Either way, the Wikipedia page, where I got those facts, is a fantastic read, and just distracted me for around fifteen minutes).

Harrod gives meteor speed for the next starter when the answer on Paxman’s sheet is meteor showers. Initially I thought this was perhaps a bit too lenient, but he did say the word showers in the question, so I can see why Harrod would have thought that it wouldn’t be in the answer also. Usually, questions like that wouldn’t give a clue to the term used in the answer.

Another two bonuses followed heading into the first picture round, which goes to Cardiff, who take two of their own on the flags of capital cities. This ties the game at 40-40.

The rest of the game would not be so tight. Nowhere near in fact, as Cardiff took charge and routed the newcomers by a score of 190-10 over the remaining questions. Balkwell-Western grabbed six starters as Coventry were well and truly outclassed, but they shouldn’t be too disheartened - they’ve made it further than any team from their University ever has.

Final Score: Coventry 50 - 230 Cardiff

This seemed like it was going to be a close contest after the first few minutes, but the Welsh side became dominant pretty quickly. I don’t think Coventry are going to be making the high-scoring play-offs, but they can pride themselves on making it to 50 points, which I generally consider to be the threshold of an ignominiously low score.

Thanks for reading. I’ll be back next week for episode 5 - subscribe on here if you never want to miss another post again.

[thewestern]

Chapter 5

Helplessly the Mick looked as Mayor Mockingbird seemingly gravitated toward the small stage. The band was in between songs. Did Larry intend to sit in? Another funny thing about him was that he played the banjo. It was sort of his calling card — a whistle stop parlor trick for all the yokels. Sometimes you had to hand it to him. City slick politicians would go to great lengths to achieve the au natural aesthetic of down-home folksiness. Dress in head-to-toe denim … climb up on some farm equipment … pose with a prize hog. ( … But enough about his wife … ) Heck, the Mayor’s close friend and party-mate wore a bolo tie, boots and a six-x cowboy hat — day in and day out — and he got himself elected to the United States Senate. He stomped them genuine ostrich shitkickers all over them Capitol steps, and would you know what happened next? The President gave that wannabe hillbilly a cabinet appointment … Secretary of the damn Interior. Sure, by the time the next president swore in he was bucked off that gold pony before you could say Jack Robinson. He hardly lasted the eight seconds, but by the grace of god Himself he landed quite softly in a very cushy gig: consulting on behalf of Morningstar Petroleum. (Or more officially the industry group which fronted for them.)

Yes, in American politics it paid to be pastoral, or at least to appear as such. But whatever country-fried humiliation a man was willing to suffer for electoral advancement, few if any would go so far to learn the banjo and pick the fucking Foggy Mountain Breakdown. But that was Larry Mockingbird for you. Shameless in service of himself.  

Scurrying out a few steps ahead, the Mayor’s waifish male page removed a three-by-five note card from his leather padfolio, handed it to the musician stage left with the acoustic guitar, and scampered on back to his boss. The guitar player took a look down at the card, stepped to the mic and said: Ladies and Gentleman, thank you so much for being here on this lovely afternoon. The boys and I are going to take a short break. In the meanwhile, please give a warm welcome to the stage for our dear friend, Mayor Lawrence Mockingbird. [Metered applause.]

Thank you! Thank you all. So much. You know in my line of work it’s rare you have to follow live music, and if you’ve ever had the pleasure to attend a meeting of my colleagues on the City Council, you’d understand why. 

[Polite laughter.]

So let’s hear one more round of applause for this spectacular band, and please go easy on me, I beg you. 

[Frisbee golf clap.]

And … aand … I couldn’t help but notice the song you were playing when I came in. At the risk of incriminating myself, I’ll let you all in on a little secret, but you have to promise not to tell those persnickety councilmembers, because then I’m really in a pickle. Okay, so brace yourselves … Before I entered the beer business, once upon a time, I … was a Deadhead. 

[Stray yelps.] 

I know, I know. Shocking, but true. And people who know this about me often ask, how did you manage to go from following around the Grateful Dead with a bunch of hippies in your twenties — and to be completely honest a good part of my thirties — to becoming the Mayor of the greatest city in the world in your middle forties. And I’d tell them, I haven’t the slightest idea. 

[Incrementally shorter spurt of obligatory laughter.] 

It’s been a long strange trip you could say. 

[Laughter still, with interspersed groans.]

And … aand … It was the man who we’re all here to honor today, our beloved friend Hank, who traveled with me far and wide over this great country, from coast to coast and back, on our quest to see as many shows as was humanly possible. And I’ll spare you the details, for the sake of sparing my political future, so you’ll just have to believe me when I tell you we had the time of our lives. 

Already, the Mick couldn’t help but bristle at this, what was obviously revisionist history. Hank had gabbed incessantly about his Glory Days following the Grateful Dead. Like he himself was playing in the band. These were his war stories. Slanging grilled cheese sandwiches for gas money, rolling around a haystack with the farmer’s daughter, fixing a flat in a white-out blizzard on I-69 (his Vietnam). 

For a few years there I just went Kerouac on everyone’s ass, he’d reflected once, wistfully. Like any half-decent story, a fixture of these psychedelic parables was the comic relief, Larry Mockingbird. And it was laughter at his expense, in case there was any confusion. Recall: Moffett, Mary Ellen. Misadventures with the opposite sex aside, Larry was your classic Touch Head, or an In-the-Darker, which are just two ways of saying he was a phony, a pouser, a tinhorn, a Johnny-come-lately. (Or rather a Larry-come-too-early, as was oft-rumoured in various concentric social circles. Well, it beats the alternative, as Russ argued in a rare and telling defence of his nemesis, Lawrence.) Accusations not to be taken lightly, for If there were one thing a TrueBlue Deadhead could not abide, it was the misappropriation of their culture. 

On the low down, Larry was always more into that yacht rock, adult contemporary sound, Hank said. You know, Doobie Brothers, Steely Dan… blue-eyed soul and all that jazz fusion horse crap. He only tagged along with us to shows to chase skirts, not that he had hardly any luck at that. Give him credit for trying though. That was one thing you had to begrudgingly admire about Larry … he always went where the getting was good. I mean, you try getting laid at a Christopher Cross concert. 

But don’t you be fooled by any of that foolishness, Hank would warn the Mick. When you got between Larry and something he wanted, he could be meaner than a badger. A sow, on her period. For a fact, the most dangerous place in the Metro Area was anywhere between Mayor Mockingbird and a camera, once said one of his most trusted aides turned most fiercest political rival. Yea, he had the banjo, the big words. But when the chips are down? Well, you would do good to forget all that quirky bullshit, lickety split. Make no mistake. Mockingbird was a cold-blooded killer. He would cut your arm off to carry the Seventh District. Sell his own mother into white sex slavery. He’d do it. In a heartbeat.  

The Mayor continued … 

As for the man of the hour, let’s toast, to Hank. [Collective raising of glasses.] If I could be so bold as to try to describe him, I would say, here was a man for his place and time. You know, there’s this word that I love, and the word is Topophilia. Topophilia means love of place. More than anyone I ever knew, Hank had Topophilia.  

Sounds like an STD, the Mick thought. In which case, Hank probably did have it. 

A love of place. [Rehearsed contemplative pause.] Loving something means being willing to sacrifice for it. And we all make sacrifices. Though there are some who sacrifice all — the brave men and women of our armed services, ... and if any of you are here today, I’d like to personally buy you a beer. First responders, too. [Drunken hollers.] I think we all would. [U-S-A, aborted chant.] But, we all have to make sacrifices. When I think back on my life, I’m proud to have worked for the Federal Government as a citizen contractor, and here for the City Government as a civil servant. Still, I can’t think of a time when I’ve had to sacrifice more than when I was an entrepreneur. 

Here I am in a room full of entrepreneurs, and I’m seeing a lot of nodding heads. You’ve all spent the endless days that turn into sleepless nights. You know that to build something for your community. To create jobs that provide for families. To serve your customer in the marketplace. That, my friends, requires a sacrifice that is truly uncommon. 

Oh my god, this is taking forever, Grace thought. Julie was giving her all the signals … She was ready to make the ultimate sacrifice. Lay it all on the line. Grace needed an exit strategy to get them out of this bar and back to her apartment, pronto. She had never gotten with a metal chick before. Jam bands were her scene, which made her a strong culture fit at the Newfy. Preferably they could beat her roommates back from their hike, Grace thought. She had a feeling this could get loud.

But then this asshole, who Grace did not recognize from Adam — she did not care for politics or keep abreast of political issues — was making a speech for some fucking reason … And these nerds were standing around all quiet blocking the way out of the booth. That he made allusions to the Grateful Dead had not charmed Grace in the slightest, even as a jam band fan herself. Most fans of the contemporary set — Phish, to a lesser extent Cheese, WSP, etc. — at the very least revered the Dead as the spiritual and artistic vanguards of the genre, such as it was. By contrast, there was a reactionary faction of hardliner Deadheads that dismissed the new school as derivative and shallow. Most of the younger generation were willing to overlook this minority resentment, but a defiant few, Grace among them, returned the favor and resented the Grateful Dead right back. Them and their Baby Boomer, Greatest Generation-ass fans could pound sand. 

Fuck’s sake, here he goes again … 

And I’ll tell you one quick story to that effect. One of our startup war stories, so to speak. When we were just getting going, before we sold our first pint, I called every wholesaler within a hundred miles, every direction. Every last one of them said, no thanks. So not only were we working seven days a week, fourteen hours a day to get our fledgling excuse for a beer business off the ground, but unbeknownst to us, we were simultaneously entering the highly competitive business of beverage distribution. Of course we didn’t have a truck with temperature control. We didn’t even have cars! We had both driven company leases to the jobs we got laid off from before starting the Newfy! 

So, Hank had an on-again-off-again girlfriend who had this busted-up old station wagon. This hunk was a beater’s beater — chipping orange paint job, accented with the wood paneling, lawn mower engine, had to be rolling started. And let me tell you before my administration got to work on the pothole problem afflicting our great roadways, driving that thing was like navigating the Titanic through the North Atlantic. But … buut, when you removed the back seat it could fit six kegs standing up on end. And that was all we needed. On good days we’d even have one riding shotgun, strapped into the passenger seatbelt. 

I can’t recall the girlfriend’s name, it’s been so long … 

(Liar … he fucking remembered.)

… But bless her heart, because somehow Hank convinced her to sell us that jalopy for a song. And I’ll tell you what else, we rode her till she bucked us. Driving to and fro to every dive bar, liquor store, VFW, pool hall, bowling alley. You name it. 

When we were through with it, or I should probably say when it was through with us, that car had more than two hundred thousand miles on it, which some of you know to be about the distance from here to the moon. We thought that was kismet, given our previous careers. As was alluded, many of you know that Hank and I were co-workers before we became co-founders. We spent a combined thirty years at Cavness-Baumann. And then the Space Race ended and the party was over. Here we were, a couple of down-and-out rocket scientists without a clue. 

Again, Hank would have strenuously objected to the Mayor’s accounting of their personal histories. One, not that it mattered, but Hank had worked twenty of those thirty years to Larry’s ten. Second, the term rocket scientist had been applied quite loosely indeed. Larry was a project manager, meaning his job was to hem and haw at the real rocket scientists until they got through with whatever it was he so urgently wanted. 

Hank was one of those quote-unquote rocket scientists, but even he wouldn’t be comfortable with that exact phrasing. Not the title as he understood it implied — guys that work on spaceships. It was true Cavness-Baumann had some NASA contracts, but those guys working on the shuttle program were the real hard cases. They had them boys locked away in a bunker somewhere, doing long division for the rest of their lives. Engineering a quarter-inch rubber gasket that made it onto a rocket booster would count as a career achievement. Unless those rubber gaskets weren’t adequately temperature tested and it was colder than usual on launch day. 

As for them two getting shitcanned when the Space Race ended, again, Larry was half right. The silent starter pistol for the Space Race was the Cold War, and the falling Berlin Wall its finish line. That was the real reason for the contraction of their industry — Aerospace, and Defense. Hank was more of a rocket scientist in the latter sense. Hellcat, Thunderstick, The Penetrator. These were missiles. (Although Hank always thought they sounded like sex toys, especially that last one.) All types — surface-to-air, air-to-surface, air-to-air, submarine-launched cruise missiles, ICBMs, antitank, antiship, assault, tactical. You name it. Yes, they made the rockets that blew up on purpose. Albeit quite often a safe distance from their strategic targets, at the expense of untold collateral damage and civilian casualties. 

If he did work on an aerospace application, it was almost always space-to-earth, as in satellites. Quite often as they applied to missile defense systems, CB’s second most profitable product line to the missiles themselves. Some bad faith critics would construe that to be a conflict of interest. More generously it could be interpreted as vertical integration. 

Other times though it was straight telecom — zapping hundreds of tv channels to a dish on your roof, or pinging that cellular phone in your pants pocket, holstered there atop your pelvic girdle, and by extension your reproductive organs, all throughout the day and the night. 

Privately, Hank was ashamed of what he’d done for Cavness-Baumann. (Would ashamed be the right characterization? Rather, conflicted? Let’s go with conflicted.) He could admit it to himself, and maybe that was more than most, but he wouldn’t go so far as to say so out loud. No, he had trained evasive maneuvers for whenever his previous life’s work came up in polite conversation. For his part, Larry did not share a mutual feeling of contrition. Factually, it was his idea to go with the whole Space Theme when they started out — the brand name being a reference to then-Senator Kennedy’s famous DNC speech, accepting the nomination at the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum in ‘Sixty, the rocket tap handles, etc. Since he couldn’t contribute around the brewhouse in any useful capacity, Larry appointed himself the strategic marketing and brand manager. Said rocket scientists-turned-brewers was a compelling founder story. When he sold his shares shortly thereafter, Hank thought about changing the name to something that didn’t remind him of how he personally made the world a worse place, but it was already screen-printed on so much stuff. Glassware, coasters, stickers, t-shirts, the big sign out front. 

Then Hank and I had this crazy idea. What if there was a third place? There’s the home, the workplace, and then what. For many that third place is a church or a temple or some other house of worship, but neither Hank nor I were regular parishioners. More spiritual — in the grand, cosmic sense — than religious. Besides, I don’t know that any congregation would take a pair of tramps like us. 

[Polite laughter, dissipating now quite noticeably.]  

A Third Place. Whither to be among family and friends. Or perhaps to meet new family and new friends. A place for love and fellowship. For community. A place for thinking about the future. 

###

That morning in the handicap stall of the ladies' restroom Kitty took a pregnancy test. I wonder how many girls have pee’d on one of these plastic indicator wands in a bar bathroom, she wondered before stopping herself. She just hated to be judgmental, of herself or others. Beside, it’s not like this baby, if there even was one, was conceived in said stall. Not that it would have made you a bad person. Although couldn’t we all agree though that it wasn’t especially hygienic or considerate of your fellow pub goers. Unless maybe they were into that sort of thing?

All empathy for exhibitionism aside, she would have preferred to take the home pregnancy test at her home. Unfortunately those quarters were somewhat cramped. She felt fractionally better about using the public toilet with the F-word graffitied right there on the door, than she would have, smuggling the soiled applicator stick out of the house in an old hamburger bag.  Either which way she wasn’t ready to tell Mick, whatever the result. And she felt really bad about that. Blend that bad feeling together with what she perceived to be morning sickness, and it had been an all-around crummy day so far. 

She even felt bad about feeling bad. By any reasonable metric, this was supposed to have been unequivocally the best year of her life. Starting a new job at what was considered to be one of the most innovative middle schools in the country. Sure the pay still wasn’t stellar, but it was commensurate with her experience, which was much more than she could say about her last gig. Getting hitched, to the love of her life. That also happened in a bar … this bar … but that was on purpose. Exchanging vows right there beneath the altar of Bertha the bison head. It was a beautiful ceremony, and a damn sight shorter than any nuptials you’d have witnessed in a house of worship. Only thing missing was the officiant. 

Now she was about to find out whether she was about to start a family with that man whom she loved like the sun would shine forever. The most joyous news of her life, it would be — all she ever wanted and more. And yet she couldn’t commit to telling him, the way she had always told him everything else, one way or t’other. Kitty wasn’t the secret-keeping type.

So she tried in vain to occupy her mind, first by grading five-paragraph essays, now by helping the bar replenish for the onslaught of orders sure to be inbound whenever Mayor Peckerwood was through delivering his speech. As for what he was saying, she wasn’t but half listening. 

We spent a lot of time in bars in those days, which we chalked up to our competitive advantage. But this wouldn’t be just another bar. We would brew our own beer! In that way we’d be self-sufficient. Cultivators of our own garden. A company of yeomen craftsmen. Crafting eccentric beer for eccentric people. Truly progressive ales that pushed the boundaries of expectations of style and flavor profile. Recipes that made use of local ingredients whenever possible, imparting our own Western American terroir. Simply put, beer that would inspire a stronger sense of topophilia in all those who imbibed. 

Beer that would make a promise to them. Challenge them. To be more. 

[Fart noise.]

Here we are, many years later. I look around this room. What do I see? Not only does the promise of the New Frontier endure, but here today there are people from all over this Nation who have risen to meet the challenge we set forth. And it all but brings a tear to my eye. You know something — Hank and I’d use to joke: wouldn’t it be great if this were a place where there could be a group at one table, planning a heist? And then maybe a group over here at another table, planning a revolution? Well I believe that dream came true. Because, in a way, you are all rebels. Freedom fighters, in a Craft Beer Revolution! 

Not what Hank was talking about. However, Larry had made out like a bandit. 

Say it with me now: I am … a craft beer … revolutionary! 

[Silence.]

You folks have taken an idea and made it an industry. I know that if Hank were here, he’d be proud as heck about it. 

If Hank were here he’d be wielding an axe, looking for whatever cord was connected to this funky-ass microphone, the Mick annotated again internally. Short of that he’d have been long gone.

And I can assure you that I am proud to be a part of this network of entrepreneurs, craftsmen and craftswomen! [Whoos.] Everyday, I’m inspired by the example you set. As such, in the Mayor’s office I’ve worked tirelessly to transform our city into an Incubator for Innovation, and not just in beer. We are a category-agnostic accelerator — across sustainable energy, natural foods, technology and telecommunications, health and biotech and aerospace and defense. 

The results speak for themselves. Our aggressive corporate relocation recruiting efforts and competitive tax incentive packages have attracted major companies to move their headquarters to this great city. Companies like Morningstar Petroleum, which has committed to creating hundreds of new, high-paying jobs right here in the Metro Area. Morningstar is making sure the world meets its energy needs, responsibly. They’re leading the charge to produce new technologies that reduce emissions. They’re creating more efficient fuels. Now they’re doing it all from a state-of-the-art, multi-million-dollar campus right here in our Seventh District!

That’s because the companies that do business here are a lot like the people that live here. They are engaged members of our community. Perhaps there’s no better example than one of your craft brewing brethren, #x_brüing (pronounced, X [space] Brewing … the hashtag and umlaut were silent and superfluous). Through the One Percent for the Planet initiative, #x_brüing has dutifully pledged to donate one percent of its net profit to social good causes, including crucial programs like the Urban Tree Initiative, which works to maintain and grow our city’s majestic Green Spaces. No doubt work that our friend Hank, who loved the outdoors so dearly, would find worthy of our admiration and support. 

Is Jaime Delano here? Where is Jaime? There he is … Let’s hear it for Jaime and all the folks at #x_brüing for all the great work they’re doing. [Applause muffled through ambient professional jealousy.] Not only have Jaime and I become close friends through his participation in these and other civic issues, but perhaps its no surprise that we are both proud Newfer alumni.

One percent, the Mick pshawed. Quite literally, the least they could do, assuming it’s integers we’re talking. He had a whole separate bone to pick with Delano. For one thing, back when they worked together, Jaime (HI-may) was still Jamie (JAY-mee). Motherfucker done iglesia’d up his goddamn name. No matter. The Mick would continue to call him Dandy Jim, by and by. He was three assistant brewers before Grace — Zeke’s predecessor’s predecessor. If Russ were alive, he’d say, Mick, your ABs have about the retention rate of a Spinal Tap drummer. But that reference would be lost on him; he was not familiar with that band. In any case, Dandy Jim would just have to wait until whenever Mayor Mockingbird was through, if they could ever be so lucky. The Mick trafficked in one grudge at a time … 

But it doesn’t stop in the private sector. We’re taking that very same entrepreneurial spirit and applying it to innovation in civil service. First and foremost, is public safety. Thanks to our public-private partnership with the Downtown Renewal and Revitalization Project, we’ve successfully activated our network of SAFE cameras, which enable the brave men and women of our law enforcement to better harness data and artificial intelligence toward protecting and serving our great city. Since the system went online, I am delighted to report that violent crime is down four percent year-over-year. 

An important aside about the SAFE (Surveilling Activity For Evidence) cameras. Among other peacekeeping applications, the devices were perhaps most effectively deployed in tandem with an integrated gunshot detection technology, which utilized acoustic sensors to identify the sound and pinpoint the location of any firearm discharge within an echo radius of several hundred feet. The camera systems were manufactured by a wholly-owned IT solutions subsidiary of Karakuchi, Ltd., the Japanese conglomerate. Although it provided advanced digital solutions to customers across industry sectors, the Karakuchi brand was perhaps best known for its Kuchi Kendo Stick line of vibrating personal massagers, which was widely adopted by the marketplace for the misintended use case as a masturbation aid for women. 

Secondarily is education. My administration has empowered high-achieving schools like Collegiate Academy of Scientific and Technological Excellence as they disrupt the increasingly obsolete model for public education in this country. Last spring they graduated their inaugural senior class. One hundred percent college matriculation rate. Kids of all races and socioeconomic backgrounds. Truly remarkable. In case any of you haven’t had the pleasure to visit the SciTech campus, I would urge you to seek it out. The architecture and interior design are stunning in and of themselves. Really, it’s the coolest school I’ve ever been inside by a long shot. 

As for the existing schools within our network that have perpetually underperformed, under my leadership, we no longer tolerate failure on behalf of our kids. Look no further than right down the road, to West High School. As of just a few weeks ago, our groundbreaking experiment is underway. With generous philanthropic support, we’ve made massive capital infrastructure investment, manifested in dividing the student body into three micro-academies, thus manufacturing more intimate and engaging learning environments, furthermore fostering a more competitive landscape, or dare I say entrepreneurial spirit among the student body. 

Make no mistake … The rest of the country is taking notice of what we’re building here. Assorted national media publications have ranked us the third best city in which to start a small business, the fourth best city to raise a family and a top eleven city for overall quality of life. And for everybody out there with their love lights turned on, according to another reputable ranking, we are the number two city for singles and dating. [Assorted oohs]. 

Get a grip, Zeke, he scolded himself. On this, unequivocally the most important day of his already fledgling career, all Zeke could think about was Grace, with whom he was deeply in love, and quite hopelessly by the looks of things. Like a flesh eating bacteria, love consumed him. From morning, stepping on his first bus of the day, commuting to work … Till night, stepping off his sixth bus of the day, headed for home. 

Really he was having his first office crush, which anyone with experience can tell you is an altogether separate phenomenon from your standard school crush, for some inexplicable reason. But to Zeke, each new infatuation, regardless of from whence it came, was exactly the same — like spring bloomed anew. Indeed, he was a sensitive young man. And because he also filled out a large frame, he was the sort one might call a Gentle Giant. But really wasn’t that moniker misapplied to any big man who wasn’t proportionally brutish? It’s true Zeke did possess an innocent exuberance that endeared him to many, although usually not in that way. Romantically speaking. So on the other side of the coin, his unguarded personabiity could be a double-edged sword, when even a fleeting attraction would be so easily misconstrued for undying devotion. This making His an existence that was at once blissful and torturous.

Far as he knew, Grace was the first gay person he’d ever known. Here it was just his luck to fall head over heels for someone so uniquely unavailable. The amorous feelings were almost totally unspoken; they had hardly uttered more than a few stray words between them — out of paralyzing nervousness on his account, and unconscious indifference, hers. Rather for Zeke, the spark was physical. Something to do with the way she moved about the brewhouse, with undo elegance, exceedingly worthy of her name. Shot putting fifty-pound sacks of malted barley like they were feather pillows, on which for him to dream of her. Shoveling spent grain from the mash tun with the mechanized fluidity of an excavator, razing the planetary core of his soul. Spraying down the kettle as if to extinguish the fire that burned within him for her. Perhaps he was attracted to her competency in the occupation for which he had proven so inept. Who could say? Whatever it was, the suffocating feeling of seeing her with Julie, and also Margot the night prior, had emotionally metastasized into a fist-sized lump, lodged right there in his larynx. Somewhat confusingly, that sensation was a symptom of heartbreak and asthma. 

Both afflicted him chronically. 

Powerless to fight this feeling, Zeke wanted desperately to shake free from the shackles of his woe, and seize this professional opportunity that had fallen into his lap. After all, here was the Mayor, giving an unannounced speech at one of his coordinated events. The possibilities for social media engagement seemed endless. Actually it was the only moderately engaging thing to occur during his short tenure, outside of a heated dispute over Harry Potter-themed pub trivia that de-escalated just shy of magical violence. (The would-be combatants had managed to fire off a couple of rounds of dueling spells: Expelliarmus and Expecto Patronum, respectively.)

He was even peripherally interested in politics and other local issues  —another thing he and Grace lacked in common — and had in fact cast his very first vote in any election for this very elected official. Twenty-some months previous, during his final semester before graduating West High School, Mayor Mockingbird had appeared at a special assembly to announce the aforementioned awarding of a multi-million dollar grant, endowed by the second richest man in the world, at the time. Wasn’t that something, Zeke thought. The money would be allocated to divide West High into three autonomous academies, to be housed within the existing facility. They were: an academy for culture and the arts, an academy for global marketplace and international studies, and an academy for Future Leaders. 

Zeke didn’t have to give much thought unto which category he fell, being that he already had plans to attend City College in the fall, where from he had since taken a sabbatical of indefinite duration. He also didn’t have any opinion on the consternation the decision caused among his classmates and the broader community. In that moment he was more swept away by the spectacle of the thing. The mayor, visiting his school, on behalf of the second richest man in the world — at the time — no less. Alas, the latter could not attend personally. However in his stead, he was kind enough to dispatch one of those really big checks for the photo opp. You mean like Happy Gilmore, Mick would have asked. Zeke didn’t know who that was, so no … he could not be certain. 

In a flash of clarity, Zeke remembered his new touchscreen camera phone. The Mick had issued it to him for work purposes, under the auspices that he could take photos and post them to the internet. But really because Kitty wanted Zeke to have any phone at all, on account of how he took the three buses to-and-from work, even though he only lived the five miles as the crow flew.  In case of there was an emergency. Actually it was the same phone she had given to Mick on his last birthday. Not the same model — that exact one. Mick favored the old Flippy anyway, and he knew Kitty wouldn’t take offense to his regifting, especially if Zeke were on the receiving end. 

Further snapping himself into focus, Zeke trained his digital lens on the Mayor, who any minute now would be arriving at a point … Before I raise one last toast to our old friend, Hank, I have a small announcement I’d like to make here in this place that was so special to us both. Before that though, I want to leave you with an old marketing parable I have cellared away from my days in the beer business. It’s something I share with all my incoming interns, as Charlotte and Schuyler here can surely attest. 

Here the Mayor briefly gesticulated in the direction of the two Larry Youth members whom the Mick saw arrive in his wake. That brief moment of public acknowledgement was one they would not forget as long as they lived. 

It concerns an old brewing outfit by the name of Schpunk Beer. When was the last time you all had a sip of Schpunk? Have any of you even ever tasted Schpunk? Here I am dating myself. Your fathers probably all drank Schpunk. I certainly guzzled more than my fair share of Schpunk as a young man. In any case, there was a time when this company you’ve never heard of, Schpunk Beer, was the third-largest domestic beer producer in the country. Life was good at the Schpunk plant. Until one year, all the corporate bigwigs got together in a boardroom, and some young hot shot came waltzing up with a presentation. He said, you know we’ve done some market testing, and we can change the recipe to cut costs on our ingredients by X percent, whatever it was, and our consumers can’t identify any discernible difference in the taste. 

All the Schpunk VPs looked around at one another and said, well, what are we waiting for? And so they changed the recipe, ever so slightly. Two years go by, and some new slick marketing guy gets back up there in front of the boardroom — by now his predecessor has been promoted for saving the company untold millions — and he makes the exact same pitch. You know we could change the recipe … save X percent …  can’t taste the difference … yada, yada, yada. And all the Schpunk guys say, wow, what a great idea. And they change the recipe again, ever so slightly. 

This cycle repeats itself a handful of times until about a decade goes by, and all of a sudden Schpunk is in the toilet. Chapter Eleven. All those executives are looking around at each other as they’re cleaning out their corner offices, wondering what in the Sam Hell happened here? For Pete’s Sake, they did the market testing … And the tests were accurate. After each time they changed the recipe, and remember they only tweaked it, ever so slightly, the Consumers could not tell a difference in taste. However, what the executives failed to account for, was that all those small compromises compounded on one another. And when you taste-tested the nectar of the gods they started out with, against the backwater dregs it became … You could see the difference from outer space. 

Listen here. 

This is something I tell all my old friends, and I’ll tell you now. In the history of this great country, we are the first generation that is in danger of leaving less to our kids and our grandkids than we had. Take a moment and let that sink in … It’s true. And we are taking losses across the board. The economy, our education system, the environment. Bottom line: in the so-called land of opportunity, the next generation is heading toward a future with less of It. I look around the faces here and I can tell that scares the hell out of you just like it scares the hell out of me. I know you don’t want less. I can promise you I don’t want less. And we can be damned sure that our old pal Hank wouldn’t put up with less. 

No-no-no. We want more. More for our future. More for our kids’ future and their kids’ future. We want more economic development. More education. More environmental conservation. More public safety. And we don't just want more … We need more … We demand more … And no matter what the cost … … … We will sacrifice for more!

As the gathered crowd roared, Mick looked up to the wall at Bertha, then down to the bar at Kitty who met his gaze intently. 

So I put it to you, let’s make a choice, together, right now … to invest in our future. And make no mistake, it’s up to us right here in this room. The leaders. The disruptors. The innovators. The builders. The dreamers. The crazy ones. Those who will show up. Do the work. Folks who get things done.  

Now allow me to put my money where my mouth is. It is my great privilege, in honor of my friend Hank and the dream we all together made come true, to declare my candidacy for the governorship of this great state. 

Welcome to Day One … starting right here and now, we all take more! Thank you all! 

As the Mayor again stuck both hands to the sky, a small passel of balloons fell from the ceiling. Where in the smoking hell did those come from, the Mick wondered, feeling bamboozled.. Right on cue, the band started back in on what figured to be the official campaign song. Out of a career that spanned decades and thousands of hours of recordings, for the Grateful Dead, this was their only ever single to crack the top-one hundred charts. Their one hit. How about that?

Sorry that you feel that way

The only thing there is to say

Every silver lining's got a

Touch of gray

[Groovy standup bassline] 

The Mayor resumed shaking every hand within a wingspan radius, retracing his steps on his way back out the door, his campaign already rolling with the popular momentum of a runaway train. Zeke was holding his camera phone behind the news cameraman, demonstrating the cinematographic instincts to piggyback off his pro lighting rig and better capture the moment. Grace meanwhile was stuck in a moment she wished she could escape. Margot had arrived unexpectedly and had sat right back down in the booth on the other side of Grace from Julie. There she sat betwixt them, awaiting their inevitable discovery of her romantic indiscretion. Kitty was situated behind the bar, still awaiting the oncoming rush. She was wearing her same back-to-school ensemble, accessorized for the fall season with a denim jacket she’d had since she was herself a student. How had Hank’s sort-of funeral been highjacked by a popup campaign rally, she wondered, not that he’d have minded much — whatever animus he felt toward the Mayor. I know I like to take the piss at Larry, he confided in Kitty one Wednesday, getting late, but I want you to know that I truly do hate the man. And it’s a rotten hatred too. It scares me how I could hate another person so completely. Frankly I’m ashamed of it. 

One of the preppy minions — the puggish female page — reached across the bartop and handed her an envelope. The underside was a form for making a donation. In the box marked required, you had to fill out your Name (First and Last), Address, Occupation and Employer. And credit card number and expiration date if that was your preferred form of contribution. The envelope itself was for depositing checks, or better yet cold hard cash. Kitty flipped it over. In the corner there was a little rectangular outline for postage, and then the logo. A shooting star underlining the slogan: More for Mockingbird.

The Mick drop-kicked a balloon away half-assedly as he watched the Mayor make his grand exit. Dandy Jim had joined the party. They were standing back by the front door, waving back at the adoring mass. The news anchor remained in the foreground, producing a microphone and talking into the camera. The sheriff’s deputy was in the shot, chewing gum with purposeful rigor. Off to the side, the representative from Morningstar Petroleum was chatting up an as-yet unidentified woman in a wax canvas barn coat with a corduroy collar, worn over a black turtleneck sweater. The Mick knew he recognized her too, but from where, he couldn’t immediately place. Wait, now he got it.

Well I’ll be damned, he said, out loud this time to no one in particular. 

There goes Hildy Wolff.

[percontaion-points]

Covet chapters 124-127

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 124

By the time the last light flickers off, I can barely breathe, barely think. All I can do is close my eyes and pray as we spin round and round and round.

Chapter 124 summary: The next week is kind of glossed over. Grace felt certain that the over-crowded system wouldn’t put them through the chamber multiple nights in a row, but she was wrong. By the end of the chapter, Flint, Hudson, and Calder are shells of their former selves. Grace begs Remy to protect somebody other than her for the night, simply so that the other three can rest. But he tells her that his power doesn’t work like that; he’s fucking tried. 

Chapter 125

“I have no fucking idea what happens now. I’ve never even heard of anyone getting the Chamber six days in a row. It just doesn’t happen.” 

“Doesn’t that make you wonder why it’s happening now?” I ask. 

“They must have done something pretty awful and the prison is demanding atonement,” he answers. “How else does it assure people have made up for what they’ve done?”

 “This isn’t atonement!” I shout at him. “This is revenge, pure and simple.” 

“No.” His voice is adamant. “The prison doesn’t feel. It can’t want vengeance.” 

The dude who is on a lifelong revenge mission because he was literally born in prison, and yet he somehow manages to have goddamned SYMPATHY for the fucked-up system that has KEPT HIM IMPRISONED SIMPLY BECAUSE HE WAS BORN. 

Rage rips through me, and with it comes an idea. It’s a long shot, but it’s the only shot I’ve got. So I reach deep inside myself and start looking for one string in particular—the shining blue one that I’ve tried so hard to ignore—that’s blazing as brightly as ever. I grab it and close my eyes before squeezing as hard as I can.

Chapter 125 summary: As Grace sits and listens to the screams of Hudson, Flint, and Calder for the seventh night in a row, she finally snaps. She tells Remy that the entire system is so fucking screwed up that it’s going out of its way to punish them, rather than by the random chance that Remy keeps insisting that the prison is based around. She tells him that Hudson and Flint are the princes of the dragons and vampires, respectively. So of course whoever is in charge of the prison settings is going out of their way to ensure that the two of them are punished to the extreme. 

As Hudson screams out again, Grace decides that enough is enough, and reaches inside of herself for the string that attaches her to Hudson. 

Chapter 126

When I open my eyes, I’m back at Katmere—in Hudson’s room. I can see the big red-and-black bed that I’ve had so many fantasies about, can feel the warmth of the spring sunshine filtering through his windows.

Well, since the narration isn’t going to show Grace’s “hell loop”, we have to jump into Hudson’s, I guess. 

I also realize at the same instant that the real Hudson—the one shaking and pleading on the bed next to me—is so far gone that if he has to spend another hour killing me, even if it is only in his nightmares, it just might shatter him forever.

Chapter 126 summary: As mentioned, Grace is now in Hudson’s hell loop. She gets in there in time to watch as Hudson kills dream!Grace. The loop resets itself, and dream!Grace comes into the room. The two of them start making kissy faces at each other.

Real!Grace meanwhile stands and contemplates this. She knows that Hudson was compelled to help his father commit genocide. He killed a lot of people. The way that the chamber has decided to punish Hudson is to force him to kill his mate. Over and over and over and…

Hudson starts to kill dream!Grace all over again. 

Chapter 127

He doesn’t deserve to suffer like this. He doesn’t deserve to be broken like this. He’s already learned his lesson, has already repented for the things he did. He’s changed, he’s really changed, and this forced atonement is destroying the person he’s working so hard to be. 

And that’s why this sentient prison is bullshit. 

Can you fool your way into parole? Yes you can. 

But this is set to “punish everybody until they die”. Even if they have atoned and have been rehabilitated. 

Drawing as much of that magic into me as I possibly can, I focus on Hudson—who is currently stalking the other Grace across his room—and shout, “Stop!” as loud as I can.

Chapter 127 summary: Real!Grace stands and watches as Hudson hunts down dream!Grace yet again. She tries to yell at Hudson to stop, but he doesn’t seem to be able to stop himself. 

Grace becomes even more upset because Hudson knows that what he’d done to all of those people was fucked up; he’s punished himself and he’s rehabilitating himself. And then this BS system comes in and says “No, fuck you. Daily torture.”

She leaves his mind long enough to drag Remy over there, and the two of them go into Hudson’s mind together. She briefly explains about her gargoyle powers, as locked up as they are. She channels Remy’s power through her and yells at Hudson to stop. 

[reddeadreference]

Horseshoe Overlook: Americans At Rest

Full Transcript below ([...] placed where a gap of silence is for the same person speaking or when there’s a long period of silence and distance traveled.)

[Video starts with Arthur outside of the Valentine Saloon] Javier: Drink up, ladies. [...] Yeah! [...] Come on, Charles

[Arthur walks in the saloon to see Javier and Chalres who have two (presumably) prostitutes standing with them at the bar]

Javier: Another round. Hey! Alright, there we go.

[Arthur approaches and Javier sees him.]

Javier: Oh, Arthur. Arthur, come here, come here. Come over here, I want you to meet our friends.

Arthur: Pleased to meet you.

Civilian 1: Well ain’t you just the tough as teak mountain man?

Civilian 2: Oh, you be quiet, Anastasia, anyone can tell this one is a pussy cat.

Javier: Exactly, yes he’s a pussy… cat. Ain’t that so, Arthur?

Arthur: Whatever you say. How much you cost, anyway?

Civilian 1: Well ain’t that a nice way to talk to a lady?

Arthur: Oh, I didn’t know I was talking to a lady.

Civilian 1: Excuse me.

[Offended, the women leave.]

Javier: Well, I must say… you got a fine way with the women, amigo.

Arthur: Yeah, a regular dandy and charmer. 

[The three lean on the bar. Arthur and Charles take a shot]

Arthur: Where’s Bill?

Javier: Oh, man, I dread to think about it. 

[Bill enters the bar and immediately bumps into a man who was leaving.]

Javier: Hey hey hey, there he is.

Bill: Hey! Watch where you’re goin’!

[Bill grabs the man by the shoulders]

Civilian 3: Take it easy pal!

Arthur: He about to kiss that guy or punch him?

Bill: Take it easy, huh?

[Bill punches the man]

Javier: Oh, and we have our answer.

[Charles picks up a chair and throws it off screen, Javier smashes a glass over a man’s head.]

[Arthur enters the brawl.]

Brawler: Come here, you.

Bill: Let’s just shoot these bastards!

Charles: Oh come on, we can handle these fools!

Javier: (In Spanish) I’m going to smash your face, bastard!

Brawler 2: You’ll wish you never step foot in valentine.

Bill: Ain’t there no men in this saloon?

[Arthur knocks out the man he was fighting.]

Arthur: Who’s talkin’ now?

Charles: You wanna fight or not?

(If you wait and don’t help any of the three)

Javier: Come on, Arthur, hit someone!

[Arthur helps Bill who is getting attacked by three men, two holding him while one punches.]

Tommy: What the hell is going on down here?

Bartender: No, Tommy, stay outta this!

Tommy: Come here, you little greaser!

[Javier punches Tommy in the face before Tommy grabs and punches him. Meanwhile a man smashes a chair over Arthur’s back.]

Tommy: Ya hit like a girl.

Arthur: Get the hell off me!

Tommy: Ya bum.

[In the background of Arthur’s fight, Tommy is slamming Javier repeatedly on a table. Arthur knocks out the man he was fighting]

Bill: That’ll do it! We can deal with these fellers! Go get Javier!

Arthur: Hey, tough guy!

[He punches Tommy in the back of the head.]

[Tommy grabs Arthur and throws over the table]

Tommy: You want some too, huh? 

[Tommy picks up Arthur and throws him out the window. A crowd gathers outside as Tommy exits through the saloon doors.]

Tommy: Come on, pretty boy…

Arthur: Pretty boy? [Arthur gets up.] You’re kidding me? Pretty boy?

[Arthur and Tommy fight.]

Arthur: You’re making a (-real fool of yourself.) [Audio gets cut off by Arthur getting punched]

Tommy: Ha! I hope you got more than that.

Charles: You okay there, Arthur?

Arthur: (In a headlock) Yeah, I got this son of a bitch.

Barber: Yeah, you got him now!

Arthur: Try that again.

Tommy: Come on, I ain’t even started.

Bill: Put that ape down, come on!

[Arthur gets the upper hand and starts beating Tommy’s face repeatedly.]

Charles: Don’t go easy on him!

Stranger: Hey, come on. Stop that.

[It switches to a cutscene as the man stops Arthur.]

Stranger: Stop! Stop! Please! Please, I beg you. Stop. Come, sir. You won the fight already, surely that’s enough?

Arthur: What business is it of yours?

Stranger: No business. No business, sir. But, please… I beg you.

[Arthur walks away, pushing through the crowd towards the general store.]

Trelawny: Making new friends again I see, Arthur.

[Arthur turns to see Dutch and Trelawny approaching.]

Dutch: Look who we found sniffing about.

Arthur: Josiah Trelawny.

[Trelawny bows.]

Dutch: The very same.

Arthur: Well, well… I thought you’d gone to New York.

Trelawny: And miss all this glamour? You must be joking.

Arthur: How are you?

Trelawny: Well. Quite well indeed. I went to Blackwater looking for you gentlemen. You’re not very popular there it seems. Ah Javier and Charles. 

[Javier, Charles, and Bill approach. Bill stumbles with a hand to his head, Javier has a hand on his jaw, Charles crosses his arms.] 

Trelawny: I’ve missed you… and Bill looking as well as can be. Gentlemen, always a pleasure.

Dutch: You’re right, we ain’t too popular in Blackwater.

Arthur: We left a lot of money there.

Trelawny: And young Sean it seems.

Dutch: Sean? You’ve found him?

Trelawny: Yes, I have. He’s being held by some bounty hunters trying to see how much money the government will pay them. I know he’s in Blackwater, but there’s talk of them moving.

Arthur: Well, if we step foot in Blackwater… [he holds his jaw in pain and spits before he stands] well, then we’re dead men for sure.

Dutch: There’ll be Pinkertons all over the place, but… if he’s alive we gotta try.

Arthur: Yeah, of course.

Trelawny: It’s you they want, Dutch.

Dutch: Always is. Charles, go find out what you can, carefully. Josiah, take Javier. Arthur, go get yourself cleaned up. Join them when you’re ready.

[Everyone walks away, Arthur walking to a barrel of water.] 

Bill: Well, what about me?

Dutch: Well exactly, what about you?

Bill: W-What does that mean?

Dutch: Ah, Bill. Come on.

[Arthur washes his face in the barrel, shakes the water off his hands and turns around. The cutscene and mission end]