#but not too bad for a first attempt at her

[lucimaaie]

we ✧.* tlou

pairings - santa barbara!ellie x reader

summary - ellie promised herself she wouldn’t get attached to anyone after santa barbara, look how that turned out.

warning - angsty, not proofread cause i wrote this pretty quick, short (as always),

After Santa Barbara, Ellie had no plan for the future. She’d left Dina and JJ and let Abby go. She knew would still have nightmares and the pain wouldn’t leave her. What else was there to do?

Maybe that was the reason she fought you as you tried to take care of her. “Leave me alone!” She said as you’d tried to help her up from the water, raising her arm around your neck. Thinking about it now, the memory of her weak attempt to tussle you made her laugh.

You fought as hard as she did despite being starved and traumatized yourself. She didn’t know your story, just that you were the only one who didn’t want to kill her as soon as you came out of that crowded cell. You knew that she was immune and that was it. Nothing else was important in the moment. Nothing she wanted to tell you anyway.

You took care of her so much she started to feel guilty for not returning the favor. Cleaning her wounds, taking first watch, giving her whatever food you two had left. Ellie questioned whether it was pity or too good to be true, that you’d try something the moment she relaxed. But as she got stronger, nothing bad happened. You cared for her all the same.

So she cared for you. She watched your back and let you sleep a bit longer since she knew her mind wouldn’t let her sleep. She held you the way you held her when she awoke screaming. Gave you light kisses everywhere to distract you (and her) from a haunting past she knew nothing of. Conversations weren’t your speciality. You didn’t know a lot about each other, but you knew each other.

Eventually, you got lucky and found an abandoned cabin far away from Santa Barbara and quickly settled in. It wasn’t big and there was one bed, but it was shelter. Ellie didn’t want to call it home just yet.

“We should move south.” Ellie blurted, shaking the snow off her boots onto the porch. She could already hear your lecture about letting the cold in, but that wasn’t her focus. Did she just say we? “I mean, nevermind. Here’s fine.” It wasn’t. It was cold as hell and she was tired of the cold she’d been in her whole life.

“No, why south?” You said as you adjusted the small sticks that provided at least a little warmth in the small space. Ellie came to sit down next to you, leaving no space between you. She looked at you, admiring how the orange light shone on your face.

“It’s hotter.” She held your gaze as you listened intently. “Probably make hunting easier.” Ellie knocked her shoulder into yours without much force.

“You ever been south?”

She shrugged before shaking her head. “Nope.” She looked at the fire. That might be a downside of south. No more needing to snuggle up to you to not freeze to death. South you probably have to give each other some space to cool off. “Was just a thought.” She scratched her ear. “What’d you do while I was out?”

“Counted our supply. put on the fire. cleaned our clothes. a bunch of nothing.”

“What about eating?”

“uh-no. forgot that part.”

“Course you did.” She sighed, rising to her feet and look around for the bag you two stuff all cans in. All your belongings in the cabin were generally pre-packed in case you had to run, but still the fact that you’d been able to accumulate these things together made her feel something she couldn’t describe. Annoyance was part of it. that she got so attached to you after she promised herself she wouldn’t. that it just complicated things. But that already happened the moment you’d kissed and let things go further.

“here.” She used her knife to open the can of beans and sat back next to you, handing them over.

“you do know we sleep in the same bed, right?” You hesitantly took the can and swished them around with the spoon.

“trust me i know, but i don’t need you losing body fat and clinging to me like a koala.”

“you’ve never even seen a koala.” You said, taking a bite of the beans. not bad but not good and most importantly not expired. You set the can down in the middle of you, signaling that you wanted to share. She shook her head and sighed as you pushed the can closer to her, your eyes saying ‘please.’ She took a small bite just to appease you and shoved it over to you. “just shut up and eat.” she swiped her thumb over the edge of your lip. “and stop eating like that. we’ll get you more food tomorrow.”

Hours later, ellie shot up in the middle of the night, her heart feeling like it would burst out of her chest at any moment. She choked on her own breaths as she buried her head into her knees. “it’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real—“ She mumbled the same words you did when you saw her like this.

“ellie?” You sat up as well, watching her with concerned eyes. She started to sob as she heard your voice, whether out of fear or relief you didn’t know but you didn’t give it much thought as you ran your fingers through her hair, letting her cry in your lap.

Eventually her tears stopped, leaving her with a pounding head and the comforting silence you provided. Her head rose from your lap and she pulled you into her, not willing to let go. Her head rested on your shoulder as her hands roamed under your shirt. There were no words for a while.

When there were words, they came quietly. “el?” you whispered. She didn’t respond for a while, still stuck in her swarming thoughts. “yeah?”

“where are you from?” It felt like a random question to ask, but there was no way you were gonna ask what she dreamed about.

She blinked for a few seconds, surprised. It was a simple question, yeah, but it could lead to other questions. she was scared to answer and ask back. “boston, i guess.”

“oh.”

“why’d you ask?” She let her head fall back on the pillow and tugged on your shoulder, silently asking you to turn around. And you did, facing her.

“i guess i just realized i never knew that stuff about you.” You said, fidgeting with her hands as you awaited her response. It felt like some dangerous territory, you weren’t supposed to cross. That was weird, you already crossed other, farther lines. “should i have not asked?” You whispered, tentatively.

“no, you..” She cleared her throat. “you can ask.” She finally looked at you, eyes soft with fear, pain. “i just..i don’t wanna talk about it all.”And go back there, she wanted to say.

“you don’t have to.” You scooted closer to her, laying your head on her shoulder.

Elie wrapped her arms around your back, her legs around yours, and looked at you. She let out a deep sigh as her heart beat for a different reason this time. “we don’t have to talk about it all. not right now.” we, there was a we. she wasn’t making it up. “okay,” She kissed your forehead.

thank you for reading!

[krirebr]

Luck Be a Lady

Pairing: soft!dark Curtis Everett x female reader

Word Count: ~10.1k

Summary: Desperate for money, you accept a job as a cocktail waitress at an underground casino. You think you know what you're doing, but when you meet Curtis, will you realize you're in over your head?

Warnings: Mob AU, violence, allusions to murder, explicit language, dubcon touching, noncon touching (not Curtis), willfully oblivious reader, SMUT - facefucking, dirty talk, light d/s dynamics, praise kink, other explicit sexual content. This is definitely on the darker end of the soft!dark spectrum, so proceed with caution! All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto

Masterlist

A/N: And here it finally is! This is my first real attempt at soft!dark. I hope I did it right! 😂

This was inspired by two things: 1) me going to a rep screening of Goodfellas and spending the entire time wondering why I hadn't done a mob au yet and 2) @bigtreefest saying "enforcer!Curtis Everett and mob boss!Andy Barber" in my general direction. Thanks for the inspo, friend!!

And big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who not only came up with Curtis's name for reader but also offered heaps of encouragement and was a great sounding board. And thanks to @stargazingfangirl18 for helping me figure out how exactly we'd get to the smut. Thanks Siri!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Please come scream at me about this! 😄 As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You fruitlessly tug down your very short skirt as Holly talks at you. You’re both standing in the corner of the bar’s basement waiting for the night to start in earnest—your first night.

“Lloyd’s not so bad,” she says of your boss, the man who runs this little underground gambling ring. “You’ll have to split your tips with him at the end of the night, but he doesn’t take that much, and you’ll make enough that you won’t really notice. As long as you do that, he’ll mostly keep his hands to himself.”

You nod along, glancing at the mustachioed man conferring with the bouncer at the door. The interview process for this job had boiled down to a thorough once-over that’d made you feel naked in your jeans and t-shirt and a “You’re not too stupid to take a drink order, are you?” and then you had the job.

Holly had vouched for you. Neighbors for almost half a year, she’d come home early one morning last week and witnessed you trying to convince the landlord that you were good for your past-due rent. She’d taken you for coffee and told you she might be able to help if you were good at keeping your head down and mouth shut. And now you were here.

“The customers, on the other hand,” she continues, smacking her gum, “you’ll have to let them touch, at least a little bit. Within reason, you know? But if anything gets out of hand, you can just tell Jake at the door and he’ll take care of it.”

“Within reason?” you ask, voice shaking, just the littlest bit, as the pit that started forming in your stomach when you agreed to this grows a little more.

The look she gives you verges on exasperated. “Well, you want to make money, don’t you?”

Yes, you do. Very much so. It’s a need, not a want. So you nod and try to listen as she keeps giving you the rundown. 

Before you’re ready, the first patrons start trickling in and then you’re off to the races. It’s not too bad. No one’s orders are too complicated, mostly just bottles of beer and glasses of straight whiskey. The bartender, Colin, is friendly enough, although you learn that he’s another person you’ll need to split your tips with. 

As for the touching, there are hands on your hips, pats to your ass. But you’re rewarded with folded-up bills held up between fingers or tucked into the strap of your top. Or, twice, slid behind the waistband of your skirt. Once you realize that the majority of these bills aren’t ones or fives, but twenties, you care about the touching that comes with them much less. Plus, you’re too busy to really think about it that hard. 

You can’t believe how busy it is for a random Tuesday night, multiple games of poker, craps, and who knows what else all going at once. But when you mention that to Holly, she just laughs and shakes her head. “This is nothing,” she says. “On the weekends there’ll be three more of us and another one of Jake. Things get wild.” 

You don’t have time to decide whether that makes you nervous or excited before someone is signaling for your attention again. You manage to suppress your grimace when he slides his arm around your waist to tell you what he needs from the bar. You’re rewarded for your troubles by a wad of twenties. You aren’t sure who these men are to tip so freely, but you know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It’s an hour or two later that Lloyd calls you over to where he’s speaking to a large, impossibly broad man, dressed in a soft-looking henley under a leather jacket with dark jeans. There’s dark ink all over his hands that disappears up his sleeves and reappears on his neck in intricate lines. He’s got close-cropped hair and a full beard that’s neatly trimmed. His deep blue eyes drill into you right away and you do your best not to shiver.

“Got a new girl tonight, Everett. Still learning the ropes, but she’ll take good care of you, won’t you, Cupcake?” 

“Yes, of course,” you say, before Lloyd wanders off to check on one of the poker games.

The man, Everett, lets his eyes rove over you. “Cupcake, huh?” His voice is deep, gritty, but there's something there that's much gentler than you expected.

You give him what you hope is a coy smile. “Sure. If you want.” Lloyd was treating him like he's important. You hope important means deep pockets.

He hits you with a penetrative stare, so strong you almost have to take a step back. “No,” he finally says. “I don't think so. I'll find something more fitting.” Then he turns and starts to walk away, before calling over his shoulder. “I'm gonna get dealt in. Bring me a whiskey once I'm settled.”

You watch him go for just a moment, and then head to the bar, asking for a whiskey. 

“This for Everett?” the bartender, Colin, asks. When you nod, he grabs a fancy bottle off the top shelf. “This is all he drinks. And he doesn't pay for it, alright? Don't ever think about giving him a bill.” 

You look back at the man in question, seriously looking at the cards he’s just been dealt. Who is he???

You collect his whiskey and move back to him. As you set it down, he turns to you. “How about this?” he asks as he holds up a crisply folded hundred-dollar bill between two fingers. Your eyes widen at the money. All you’ve done is bring him one straight pour. “There’s another one of these in it for you if you make sure I never see the bottom of this glass tonight. Sound good?” And then he folds the bill one more time in his thick fingers, before sliding it under the low-cut neckline of your blouse. Your skin tingles where he brushes against it.

“Yeah, you got it,” you just breathe out, a little shocked you’re able to form words. He gives you a smug smile that you can only describe as shark-like before turning back to his cards, and you understand it as the dismissal that it is. 

You move around the room, collecting empties, getting refills, trying to goodnaturedly accept unsolicited touches. The whole time you feel eyes on you, but whenever you glance Everett’s way, he’s focused on his poker game.

Eventually, a down moment finds you catching your breath against the wall. The moment Holly sees you standing still, she’s quickly making her way to you. “You need to be more careful around Curtis,” she hisses, lowly.

You look at her, confused. “Curtis?” Jake’s at the door. Colin’s behind the bar. You don’t know a Curtis.

“Curtis Everett!” You glance at the man at the poker table. He’s running a poker chip across his knuckles mindlessly. Then he looks up and you briefly make eye contact before you quickly look away. Holly is staring at you and she looks worried. But the name still doesn’t mean anything to you, so you shake your head and shrug. She groans as quietly as she can. “He’s Barber’s top enforcer!”

This whole conversation feels so out of the blue that it takes you a minute to catch up. Barber. Andrew Barber. The most feared mob boss in the city. Probably the state. Maybe even more. Ruthless and exacting was how the papers described him. He’d been the subject of multiple stings and taskforces and whathaveyou but nothing ever stuck. “He works for Andrew Barber?” you ask, shocked and a little appalled.

Holly stares at you in a way that you can only describe as dumbfounded. It takes her a few moments to find her words, then, “Bitch, you work for Andrew Barber!”

Everything stops. “What?” you gasp.

“Oh my god,” Holly groans. “This was such a mistake. It’s an underground card game in his city! Who did you think was running things?”

“I– I don’t know,” you stutter, stupidly. The god’s honest truth is that you’d never really stopped to think about it. You’d been staring down an eviction, struggling to afford groceries. Unable to make ends meet no matter what you did. When Holly told you about this job, all you saw were dollar signs. You didn't think about anything further. Of course, you’d known these games were illegal, but it seemed so minor in the grand scheme of things. You hadn’t connected it to anything bigger because you just hadn’t wanted to.

But now– Now that you know the truth, what are you going to do? You know what you should do. You should walk out the door right now. You should find some other legitimate way to pay your bills. It’ll be safer. It’ll be better. It’ll be so much harder.

As you bite your lip, trying to process all of this information, Holly continues. “Listen,” she says, “still get him drinks, be friendly, whatever you need to do. But keep your distance however you can. Don't encourage him. He's just– He's really dangerous. They don't call him Barber’s attack dog for nothing, ok?”

“Yeah,” you say. You start to look back in Curtis’s direction but stop yourself. You think about the hundred you already have and the one promised to you at the end of the night. You think of how empty your pantry is. But then you see the genuine fear in Holly's eyes. You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. I got it. Thanks.”

“He doesn't even come in here that often. I'm surprised to see him tonight, so I'm sure it’ll be fine,” she says, but you can tell she’s nervous.

You nod, absently, finally letting yourself glance over at him. His drink is getting close to the bottom. “Shit,” you mumble. “I gotta get him his refill.”

“Do you want me to do it?” Holly asks. 

You should let her do it. You absolutely should. But you just can’t give up on that tip. You shake your head. “No, I’ll be fine. But thanks.”

You head back to the bar and grab Curtis’s top-shelf whiskey of choice from Colin, then make your way to his table. You set it down next to him, hoping to move away without him even noticing, he’s so engrossed in the game. But as you take a step back, his hand shoots out to grab your wrist. He holds it tightly until you meet his eyes. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and you can’t help the sharp intake of breath or the way you feel his words in your knees. He strokes his thumb down the inside of your wrist, then abruptly lets go, pushing his chips to the middle of the table. You step away, gathering yourself as subtly as you can, and get back to work.

The rest of the night goes quickly. The crowd gets a little rowdier as they drink more, but you find that it’s nothing you can’t handle. The reality of who these people are, what they’re connected to, never leaves your mind. But really, they’re not so bad. None of this feels so bad at all. And soon, people start heading out. You’re beginning to clean up, when a recognizable voice rings out, “Bambi!” You turn and lock eyes with Curtis. He crooks two fingers at you and you quickly make your way over to him.

“Bambi?” you ask.

He grins at you and it feels more than a little predatory. You’ll never admit how much you like it. You try to keep Holly’s warning at the forefront of your mind. “Wide eyes and just getting your legs under you,” he says. You instinctively duck your head at that, which earns a dark chuckle. “Here,” he continues, as he pulls a genuine, fat money clip out of his back pocket. You’ve never seen something like it in real life before. He peels off two bills and holds them out to you. “This is what good girls get,” he says, a low rumble in his voice.

You swallow as you take them from him. Two hundred dollars. Twice what you were expecting. “Thank you,” you say quietly. 

He shakes his head. “You earned it.” Then, after one last long look at you, he turns around and leaves.

You stand and stare after him. You don’t doubt anything Holly said, but three hundred dollars, just for bringing him drinks. He doesn’t seem that bad, not really. A little intense maybe, but there’s some sort of interest there, and it can’t be that bad to encourage it, just a little if it earns you these sorts of tips, can it??

Any hesitance you have about this entire endeavor completely disappears as you count your money at the end of the night.

Your first week flies by. You're starting to get the hang of the job. You get along with your coworkers. You get to know the regulars. You like it. Even Lloyd isn’t so bad as long as you give him his cut at the end of every night.

And you’re making so much money.

In your downtime, you pay your landlord what you owe him. You go grocery shopping without scouring for coupons first or calculating exactly what you can afford beforehand. You make a Pinterest board of what you want your apartment to look like now that you might actually be able to buy things to fill it. For the very first time, you’re thinking about things you actually want, not just desperately trying to figure out how you’ll pay your bills. You’ve never felt this calm, this relaxed, this free before. It’s an incredible feeling.

And Curtis. Despite Holly’s reassurances that you wouldn’t see him much, he seems to be there whenever you are, trying to capitalize on his winning streak at the poker tables, you assume. His tips are still insanely generous. You don’t think he carries anything less than hundred dollar bills. 

And there’s just something about him. The way he looks at you. The way he touches you. It’s not like the other men here. His touch is like fire, warming from the inside. There’ve been times when his hand on your hip has almost made your knees buckle. That doesn’t happen with anyone else here.

But you’re being smart and you’re being safe. You are. You’re going to set a savings goal, you think. And once you hit that number, you’ll be out of here, onto something more legitimate. And until then, you’ll just keep your head down and mouth shut, like Holly said. You haven’t even really seen anything. It’s a good plan. It’ll be fine.

She’s right that the weekends are wilder. Even with three additional girls working the room, you’re kept running. You do your best to keep an eye on Curtis’s drinks, but it’s much harder than on weeknights. And you aren’t really able to pause when you drop them off. It’s one of these times, as you’re pulling away from the table as soon as you’ve set his glass down, that you’re stopped short by his hand on you. He pulls you back in by the wrist and says, “They’re just running you ragged tonight, huh, Bambi?”

You smile and shrug. “It’s busy.”

He holds out a bill and you try not to smile even wider as he slips it into the waistband of your skirt. “For all your hard work.”

You bat your lashes a little. “You spoil me.”

“I like spoiling you,” he says, lowly. 

“You’re too sweet,” you say softly. Then, pulling your arm away with a wink, you add, “Gotta run,” and you’re onto the next table.

You’re getting good at this, figuring out what level of harmless flirting is just enough to keep the money flowing. And you’re having fun. You’d never expected that.

Holly and two of the other girls, Jane and Kristi, are congregated at the end of the bar, waiting for drinks, when you join them. They’re all watching you warily. “So, uh,” Jane starts quietly, “you seem to be getting pretty cozy with Curtis.” 

Before you can respond, Holly scoffs behind her. “I’ve tried to warn her but she won’t fucking listen.”

You roll your eyes. You’re tired of hearing this. “I seriously don’t get what the big deal is. He’s nice and he tips well. It’s harmless!”

Kristi just gapes at you. “He’s nice?!”

Holly slams the drinks she was waiting for onto her tray. “Whatever,” she grumbles. “It’s her fucking funeral.”

You shake your head as you watch her go. It’s fine. You can take care of yourself.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. You don’t get much of a chance to talk to Curtis, but you feel his eyes on you before he disappears a little before closing.

At the end of the night, once you’ve helped clean up, you cash out with Colin and Jake and then go to find Lloyd in his office. You think it’s kind of ridiculous that you’re basically paying him to work there, but it is what it is. And Holly was right, you’re making so much that you barely even notice. 

Lloyd is sitting at his desk, looking a little more disheveled than you’re used to. He startles at your approach, which is also new. 

“Oh, hey,” he says, with slightly rounded eyes. “What can I do for you?”

You look at him, a little confused. “Just here with your cut,” you say as you hold out his money.

His hands immediately fly up to his chest, palms out. “No, no,” he says. “You made that fair and square. You just– you keep what you make from now on, Cupcake. Sound good?”

You swallow and nod, preparing yourself for whatever other price you’ll have to pay for keeping your job, mentally calculating what you’re willing to do. But Lloyd doesn’t do anything, doesn’t make any move to get closer to you. Just stays there at his desk, turning back to his work. “You have a good night,” he says, clearly dismissing you. 

You leave confused, but richer, telling yourself not to question it too hard.

Things go so smoothly for a few weeks that you’re a little shocked when the bubble bursts. 

It’s a relatively quiet weeknight. There are a few games going, but nothing compared to the weekend. The pace of the night feels leisurely. It’s nice.

It’s maybe the first night you haven’t seen Curtis there. It feels weird. He’s become such a part of this place for you. A fixture, like the bar or the carpet. Just one of the elements that make it what it is. But it’s fine. Of course, he doesn’t come every night. He probably has a whole life outside of this. He must’ve gotten bored of playing cards. Oh well. It was nice while it lasted.

You’re passing the time talking to one of the regulars at the bar, Vinny. He’s in his fifties, you think, with gray hair and laugh lines. He’d gone bust at the poker table (or maybe it was craps tonight) earlier and then had moved to the bar to drink away his sorrows and bad luck. That was how his nights tended to go.

He’s sitting on a barstool, his arm around your waist where you stand next to him. He’s a little close for comfort, but he’s always just been a friendly guy, so you’re alright. Which is why you’re so surprised when, in the middle of a story about the good old days of the Copa Cabana, his other hand suddenly finds its way between your thighs. You freeze. For just a second. Then you force out a laugh and try to push his hand away. “Bad boy,” you try to tease, your voice shaking. His hand will not move. What is happening? “Come on, let’s keep our hands to ourselves.”

Instead of doing what you’ve asked, his thumb briefly brushes the inside of your leg and then his whole hand begins moving higher. You stop breathing. You push again but he won’t budge.

“You’re such a pretty doll, aren’tcha?” he says. 

Tears start to gather in your eyes. You look around wildly to see if anyone’s noticing what’s happening. Colin’s busy making drinks. Jake and Lloyd are talking by the door. Everyone else is engrossed in their own business. “Vinnie, stop, please,” you whisper. You don’t know why you can’t get your voice to work, can’t get your body to move.

“Come on,” he cajoles, “I’m being nice, aren’t I?” 

Then his thumb brushes against your panties and your entire body jolts into action. You wrench your leg out of his grasp and take several steps away from him. Your whole body is shaking now. “I gotta–” you start, trying to keep your tone casual and failing miserably. “I gotta get back to work, Vinny.” Then you grab your tray off the bartop and walk away as fast as you can.

You don’t really have a destination in mind. You pick up a few empties as you wander between tables. You can feel his eyes on you, following you. You try to take a deep breath, calm yourself down. It isn’t very helpful. You look up to see Jake by himself now. You make your way over to him, Holly’s words on your first night in your ears. That was out of hand, wasn’t it?

He looks up as you approach. His big golden retriever smile on his face. “Hey, what’s up?” Then he actually takes you in and his smile drops. “What happened?”

“Um, Vinny, he, uh–” You feel a few tears fall down your cheeks and you just shake your head.

Jake’s face darkens. “Did he hurt you?” 

“No, uh, he– he just–” You shake your head again. “No, he didn’t hurt me.”

Jake doesn’t say anything for a moment, just looks at you. There’s something about the way he does it that makes you think he understands everything you just can’t say. He nods once. “Alright. I’ll take care of it. You go take your time in the back. Do what you need to do. He’ll be gone by the time you’re done.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Okay, thank you,” you say so quietly. Then you get yourself to the back room as quickly as you can.

It’s really more of a hallway than a room, small and narrow. All of the storage space for the building is in the legitimate bar upstairs. But there’s enough room for you to crouch down, your knees pulled up tight to your chin. You bury your face in your thighs and let the tears you’ve been holding in finally fall. You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re safe. You’re fine. 

You don’t know how long you’ve spent trying to calm yourself down when a large shadow suddenly looms over you. It takes you a moment to gather your strength to find out who it is. You hope it’s Jake telling you Vinny’s gone. You’re afraid it might be Lloyd, here to tell you to get back to work. There’s a slowly building terror that it might be Vinny himself.

After a deep breath, you look up to find Curtis staring down at you, concern on his face and fiery anger in his eyes. “What happened?” he growls.

You shake your head and turn away. He crouches down in front of you. “Are you alright?”

A humorless, uncontrolled laugh escapes you. Once you finally stop, you ignore his question and ask your own, “Why are you here?”

It takes him a very long time to answer. He just looks at you seriously for several moments. Then, finally, “Jake called me.” While you try to figure out why on earth Jake would do that, he continues, “I'm sorry I wasn’t already here.”

“Why?” you blurt out without thinking. 

He looks away without saying anything. You both just sit in the silence for a few moments. Then, you try to change tactics. “Where were you?” you ask out of morbid curiosity. You can't imagine what his life is like outside of here.

“Working,” he says curtly. He plays with a ring on his middle finger and the movement draws your eyes to his hands, specifically his knuckles. They're scraped and caked with dried blood. 

You swallow and you catch how his eyes track the movement. His eyes are always on you. He catches everything. 

“Someone touched you?”

“Lots of people touch me,” you say, flatly. “It's part of the job. You touch me.”

His eyes narrow at that. “But this was different.” It isn’t a question.

You look down at your hands in your lap and don't say anything. 

“Tell me who it was.”

“No,” you say instinctively, something about the moment feeling incredibly dangerous. 

He huffs in frustration. “Are you trying to protect him?”

“No!” you say, sharply. “I’m protecting myself.”

“You don’t have to do that. Not from me. Not ever.”

You don’t know how to tell him that every atom in you knows that that isn’t true. You can’t explain it, and it wasn’t until the moment he joined you in this little closet, but you’d swear that he’s a danger to you. You just can't articulate how, but you feel it in your bones. And still, here you stay.

At your silence, he grits out, “If you don’t tell me who it was, Jake will.”

Jake probably already has, that’s what you’ve figured. “Great,” you say. “Then you don’t need me to say it.”

“Bambi,” he lets out in an exasperated growl. “I'm trying to help you.” 

You just look at him and then figure you may as well ask the main question that's on your mind. “Why did Jake call you?” 

He ignores you and stands up. “Come on,” he says and extends his hand, “I'm taking you home.”

You just blink up at him. “My shift isn't over.” 

He shakes his hand at you impatiently. “It is now. Come on.”

You shake your head. “Curtis, this is my job. I can't just– Lloyd will–”

“I'll take care of Lloyd. Let’s go.”

You think about going home. About sitting alone in your small apartment. At least here you'll have something to do, things to focus on, to keep you busy. At home, there'll be nothing to think about other than that hand between your legs and– “No,” you say as firmly as you can manage. “I'm staying here. I'm finishing the night.”

His jaw ticks but he doesn’t say anything, just tries to stare you down. You stare right back. You will not concede this. 

Finally, he exhales through his nostrils, then growls out an unhappy “Fine. But I'll–” He's interrupted by his phone ringing in his pocket. He takes it out and glances at the caller ID and sighs. “I have to take this.” He steps away as much as he can in the tiny area and answers with a curt “Everett.” There's a slight pause. “Yeah, I took care of it.” Another pause that has him glancing at you. “No, something else came up.”

You don't wait to hear the rest of the conversation. You take the opportunity to go back to the main room and get back to work. 

You don't see Curtis again that night. You don't spare much thought to where he might've gone. You're too focused on getting through the remainder of your shift. When it's done, Jake insists on seeing you home. You don't ask why. You already know who's behind it.

The next few days are fine. You try to put what happened behind you, doing your best to ignore it. But that becomes impossible when three days after the incident you watch Vinny walk in. You can’t help the little burst of panic you feel as you warily watch him sit down at his usual table and get dealt in. 

As subtly as you can, you make your way over to Jake. You don’t even say anything before he’s looking at you, chagrined. “I know,” he says. “I’m sorry, but I had to let him in. I promise it’s all going to be taken care of. It’s just– You can ignore him tonight, ok? Just trust me. You don’t need to worry about him. I promise.”

“Ok,” you say reluctantly, trying to resist looking back at Vinny. “I just– I didn’t think I’d have to see him again.”

“I really think that after tonight you won’t,” he says sincerely.

You don’t really understand what that means, but you nod anyway. “Ok,” you say. “I, uh, I should get back to work then.” 

He just nods after you, looking a little concerned and a little sad. But the room is filling up, so you don’t have time to delve into it.

Sometime later, as you’re taking a brief moment to idle by the bar, a strange hush descends over the room. You’re facing away from the door, away from the rest of the room, but you see Colin take in whatever it is that’s caused this. His face pales and he lets out a quiet, urgent, “Shit.” 

You turn around to see what on earth could be going on and you immediately freeze. Curtis is here. But that’s not what’s garnering all of this attention. Well, not all. Because he’s not alone, there’s a man with him. A little shorter, not quite as broad. But you’d be able to feel the power radiating off of him, even if you didn’t recognize him. Soft dark hair, thick beard, an immaculately tailored suit. You’ve seen him in the papers, on the news, but in real life, he’s even more intimidating. Andrew Barber.

Barber leans in close to say something to Curtis, who nods, eyes scanning the room until they land on you. Your breath catches, but luckily Colin calls your name behind you and you have an excuse to turn around. He places two glasses of dark liquor on the bar. “Everett,” he says, gesturing to one, then “Barber,” while waving his hand over the other. “Got it?” You nod and place them on your tray. They’re identical to your eyes except for the fact that Barber's has a muddled black cherry at the bottom of the glass.

You carefully bring them over, trying to force yourself to breathe. Curtis intercepts you and grabs the drinks when you're a few steps away. “Thank you, Bambi,” he says, lowly. 

Barber perks up. “This is Bambi? Really?” He extends a hand and you have no choice but to take it. “Andy Barber,” he says with a disarming smile. “It's a pleasure to meet you finally.”

His handshake is firm, demanding. He is terrifying in his friendliness. And he knows who you are. Has known, for who knows how long. You glance at Curtis, but he's just calmly drinking his whiskey. You don't know what to say, what are you supposed to say?? So after too long a pause, you practically whisper, “Thank you, Mr. Barber.”

He chuckles lightly as he takes back his hand. To Curtis, he says, “You're right, Bambi does suit her.” Then he turns back to you and adds, “Andy, please.”

“O– Okay, Andy,” you say, with what you desperately hope is a benign smile. You look over at Curtis, you’re not entirely sure why, but out of these two dangerous options, he, at least, is familiar. “I should get back to work.”

Curtis is staring at you, but it’s Andy who answers. “Mmm, and we have a game to join, don’t we?” Curtis nods but still doesn’t break his gaze. Andy smirks, “No rest for the wicked.”

You have no idea what to do with that sentiment, so you take the opportunity and get out of there. You walk through the tables, checking to see if anyone needs anything, but the mob boss’s physical presence seems to have ground all action to a halt. The room is collectively holding its breath. 

You go back to the bar for want of anything else to do. Colin is standing ramrod straight, coiled in case he needs to spring into action. Lloyd is sitting down at the end of the bar, drumming his fingers, eyes moving all around the room. You settle next to Holly, who looks just as scared as she did that first night when she was trying to warn you off of Curtis. “Is this,” you start to ask, your voice shaking. “Is this normal? Does he come here a lot?”

“No, never” she shakes her head. “Why would he come here? He has real clubs and restaurants. He doesn’t need to hang out in a shit hole like this.” She shakes her head again. “He’d only come here for a reason.”

You turn your head back to the room and find that Andy and Curtis have settled at Vinny’s table, joining his game across from him. Your heart lands in your throat. That can’t– No. You’re just some cocktail waitress. Even with Curtis’s obvious interest in you, you aren’t important enough to bring the most powerful man in the city here. You’re nothing. He must have other reasons.

The room is quiet enough to hear a pin drop as everyone waits for something to happen, which is why when Andy does start speaking, you don’t have to strain your ears to pick up every word.

He looks at his cards carefully, then over at Vinny. “You know, Vinny, you’re a hard man to track down.” His voice is so calm, it sends a chill up your spine. “You don’t go home, we can’t find you at work. I was starting to get worried.” He runs a few chips through his fingers before tossing them into the center of the felt. “That’s why, when I heard you were showing up here, I sent my best man to investigate,” he nods towards Curtis, “just to make sure you were ok.” 

You don’t have a great view of Vinny from where you’re standing, but you can see how stiff he is, how silent. But he still calls when it’s his turn.

“You can imagine my relief when I found out you were alright. Except,” he raises again, a few more chips into the pot, “you’re losing a lot of money, aren’t you? Now, this upsets me. Not because you’re losing your own money. But because it’s mine, isn’t it?”

Vinny finally tries to pipe up. “Andy, hold on. I can ex–”

“You owe me $150,000, Vinny. With interest, that total’s climbing every day. And yet, you sit here and you just keep losing, don’t you? At my own game. What would you do if you won, huh? Would you really try paying me back with my own money? I thought maybe you’d at least have the smarts to cross the border and try this at one of Roger’s casinos. Huh? Paying me back with my enemy’s money, at least that I could respect. But no, it’s only me you think is stupid enough to fall for your bullshit. So now I’m here to give you the chance to fucking do it to my face.” With that, he violently pushes all of his chips into the center of the table. 

Everyone else has folded. It’s just Barber and Vinny now. You’re not sure Curtis even actually played. He’s just staring Vinny down, although occasionally his eyes will flick up and meet yours. You hate feeling like you’re a part of this, but you don’t know what else to do besides watch it play out.

Vinny is just spluttering, while Andy calmly looks on. It’s all the expected, cliche stuff you’ve seen in gangster movies. He’s got the money, he swears. He just needs a little more time. Andy has to know he’s good for it! You want to roll your eyes right along with Andy.

“Call, Vinny,” Andy cuts him off, sternly. “That’s $150,000 I just put in the pot. Call. And if you win, we’re even. Your debt’s erased. But if you lose, well then that’s $300,000 you’ll owe me. And you know I won’t be able to tolerate that. So call. And let’s find out where we stand.”

You can’t see what Vinny’s doing, but you can imagine the way his fingers must be hovering over his chips, his eyes moving down to his cards to check, one more time, if they’re as good or bad as he remembers. You know there’s no way out for him either way. He’ll have to call. He’s just delaying the inevitable.

You feel like you can't breathe as you wait for him to just finally do it, but Andy cuts in again. “The thing I can't understand, Vinny, is why you kept coming here after Curtis showed up. Either you're very stupid or really fucking greedy.” He looks at Vinny carefully. “Maybe a little of both. I hear you've been touching something that doesn't belong to you.”

You gasp. No one notices, but you do. He can't be talking about you. He can't. He can't. 

Vinny seems even more confused than you. “What are you talking about? I haven't touched anything!”

Andy continues to ignore him. “So you're stupid and greedy. That's why you aren't afraid of him like you should be. They call him my attack dog, did you know? Have you heard that? Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe you think he’s some puppy that follows me around. You’d be stupid to underestimate him, underestimate me. But maybe you only do that because you've never seen my dog off his leash.”

Curtis springs into action, lunging across the table to grab Vinny by the collar, and then slams his head into the felt. Before there’s even time to react, he’s stood and he's picking Vinny back up and hurling him onto the floor. Curtis comes around the table to stalk after him and the look on his face has you gasping for breath. You've never seen Curtis like this. There's a glint in his eye that might be the scariest thing you've ever seen. Who is this man? What is he capable of?

Vinny is dazedly trying to crawl away, but Curtis catches him easily. He grabs Vinny’s collar and hauls him back up, delivering two punches to his face in quick succession. The sound it makes. There's no other sound in the whole room. No one's saying anything, no one's doing anything. Everyone's just watching, hypnotized. You turn away, your stomach churning. Your eyes catch on Andy, sitting back in his chair, placidly drinking the whiskey you brought him, completely relaxed, like he's watching anything else. You can't look at him either. 

The room is completely silent except for the crunching of bones, Vinny’s whimpers, and Curtis’s grunts. You look up again to be startled by eye contact with Curtis. His eyes are wild, unhinged. Feral. But there's something else in it, like all of this is for you. That all of you are there, everything is happening, because Vinny dared to touch you. It takes your breath away. It’s mesmerizing.

Andy finally stands and strides over to where Curtis is holding Vinny up in the middle of the room. He looks down at Vinny, then spits in his face. “I'm tired of trying to draw blood from a stone,” he says. Then he turns to Curtis and finishes, “Get rid of him.”

Curtis gives you one last long look, his face unreadable. You feel it in your knees. Then he drags Vinny out, leaving a bloody trail behind him.

The moment they're gone, it's like the entire room can breathe again. “Lloyd,” Andy calls out. “How ‘bout a round for everyone? On me.”

Lloyd nods to Colin who hurriedly starts pouring drinks. And you, so grateful for something to do, instead of just standing there, shaking, start loading the glasses on your tray.

As you begin to pass them out, Andy of all people, pulls you aside. “Bambi,” he says quietly, “I hope you know now, we take care of our own.”

You gaze at him, shocked. It feels like a comfort and a threat. But why? It's not so much the implication that this all had something to do with you, but you can't for the life of you imagine what you've done to get yourself to a place where Andy Barber might consider you his, however distantly. It can't just be that you work here. You can't picture him doing something similar for Holly or Colin. Once again, this all feels so incredibly dangerous. 

While you're struggling to come up with anything to say to that, he grabs a drink off your tray and downs it quickly. Then, with a wink, he turns and leaves. You’re left staring after him until someone calls after you and you're scrambling to pass out drinks again. 

The night ends quickly. No one seems eager to stay and drink and play after everything that's happened. Not when there's still blood on the floor.

You do what you can to help clean up, but when you stare at the stain helplessly, Lloyd tells you not to worry about it. He's got a guy.

Colin walks out with you so you aren’t in the parking lot alone. You're grateful. You're still so shaken. As you approach your car, your beater that you still don’t quite have the money to replace, you see someone leaning against it. You stop short, looking to Colin for help, but he just keeps walking to his own car, his head down. That’s when you know it’s Curtis. 

You take a deep breath and then force yourself to keep walking towards him. You can't begin to parse how you feel to see him now. Your keys are ready in your hand like you might just get in and drive off without speaking to him. You know you won’t.

When you reach him, his voice is rough as he asks, “Are you ok?” He’s cleaned up. There’s no more blood on his hands, his clothes have been straightened.

You open your mouth to answer, even though you have no idea, so instead what comes out is “Did you kill him?”

“Did you want me to?” is his immediate reply.

It stops you in your tracks as all sorts of feelings come bubbling up, ones you can not, will not examine. This is about his propensity for violence, how terrifying he became, not– No. “Did you?” you insist. 

He looks at you carefully then shakes his head. “I don't think you actually want me to answer that.”

“But you've killed before?” You can't stop yourself from pressing, from pushing. You don’t know why. 

He just sort of smiles, gently almost, in a way that is deeply unsettling. “You need to stop asking questions you aren’t ready for me to answer, Bambi.” And it’s the way he says the nickname, like you really are that babe in the woods, just born with no knowledge of the world around you, that has your hackles rising.

“Andy called you his dog,” you say, like he should be offended.

To your surprise, he laughs, his head thrown back. Then he takes a step closer to you, and you take the opportunity to sneak in behind him, get to your car. You realize your mistake immediately when he turns back around and cages you in, your back pressed against the driver’s side door. “Everyone calls me his dog. Because he’s the civilized man in the designer suit, and I’m the animal just begging for a reason to slip my leash.”

Your heart pounds wildly in your chest. You should get into your car. You should drive away as fast as you can. You should never come back. But you don’t. “You did it for him,” you say, mustering all the strength into your voice that you can. “You didn’t do it for me.”

He leans over you, the space between you shrinking rapidly. “Yeah, he asked me to do it,” he nods. “But if he hadn’t, I still would have done it. For you.”

 You try to shake your head, to tell him that that can’t be true, even as a wild, loud part of you starts to rise up and claw out of your chest. You try to tamp it down, deny it, but before you can, Curtis is leaning in further, his whole body pressing against you, and then he covers your lips with his.  

There’s a heat that comes up out of him that fills you, the instant his skin touches yours. His hands are on you, your neck, your hip. You can’t keep track, can only say that his hands are there, everywhere, that his body touches all of yours, that his lips and his tongue are demanding, unrelenting. You are burning up from the inside.

Too soon, but ages later, he pulls away. His eyes are on fire as he looks at you. Then he tears his gaze away, and hits the roof of your decrepit car twice, looking at it disdainfully. “You get home safe,” he says, then steps back to allow you the space you need to get into your car.

You do what he wants you to do. You get in your car, sit in the driver’s seat, and then stare blankly out the windshield. You’ve never felt so out of control in your life. How did this happen? You were flirting for tips, that was all! You encouraged it for money, that was it, and now– You press your thighs together, trying not to pant. You will not be unmoored. 

A slight movement in your periphery makes you notice that Curtis is still standing just to the side of your car, watching you. You turn your keys in the ignition and shift into drive.

It doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t mean anything, you chant to yourself all the way home.

It’s your next shift back, and everything seems to have changed. You don’t understand it. You keep doing laps of the room, keep sidling up to regulars you were so friendly with just a few nights ago, but now, they won’t even look at you, let alone touch you. No one’s ordering anything.

Or at least, they aren’t ordering from you.

Holly has been running around nonstop all night, basically having to take care of the entire room by herself. You watch man after man after man slip her little bundles of money. 

You want to scream. What the fuck happened? What did you do? What are you going to do?

You go to stand by the bar to wait for something you can do. Colin gives you a brief nod of acknowledgment but that’s it. He’s been cold, too. No. Not cold, distant. You don’t understand what’s changed.

You take a deep breath. It’s one weird night. Things will be better tomorrow.

Things don’t get better. The next night is the same. You’re starting to panic. This job was supposed to be your lifeline. Without it, without the money you were making, you’re not sure how you’ll survive.

Curtis comes in after a couple of hours of nothing. You could cry you’re so happy to see him. But terrified too. If he gives you the cold shoulder, this job really is over. But you have no idea how he’s going to act, not after what happened last time. You’re not sure how you’re going to act either. You can still feel his lips on yours.

You bring him his whiskey immediately and he greets you with an arm around your waist, pulling you in. “Hey Bambi,” he says quietly. Then he gets a good look at you. “What’s wrong?” 

You look at him carefully, not sure what to confide. You aren’t even sure what the problem is. You shake your head. “Not my best night,” you say with a tired smile. “But I’m fine.”

He stares at you for a moment, then stands up. “Come on,” he says, grabbing your hand and leading you to the little back room. You feel eyes on the two of you the whole way there.

Once he’s closed the door behind you both, he asks again, “What’s wrong?”

You sigh. “The last two nights have been weird here. I don’t– I don’t know. I’m just worried. I don’t know what happened but I’m not making any tips. No one’s treating me like they used to.”

“Mmm,” Curtis hums thoughtfully. “I think,” he says as he takes two steps closer to you, which in this small space is significant, “everyone else here has figured it out.”

It’s suddenly a little hard to breathe with him standing over you like this. His presence, his attention is always so much. “Figured what out?” you ask, confused.

“That I have lost my patience for watching other men touch you.” 

It hits you like a freight train. “What?” It comes out in a whisper.

“I’ve let this go on for too long,” he says, his voice is calm, casual. “I don’t want you working here anymore. This is done.”

“I– What? Curtis. What?! I have to work! I have to pay my bills! I don’t understand. I don’t–”

He takes one last step forward. You feel the heat coming off of him. “Shh,” he soothes, cradling your cheek in his hand. “It’ll be alright. I’ll take care of you. I take care of what’s mine.”

You pull your face away, even as the urge to nuzzle into him is so strong. You feel like you’ve missed something, a thousand things. You feel too many steps behind. “Curtis, I’m not– I’m not yours.”

Something comes into his eyes and you’re reminded of him standing over Vinny, covered in blood. His hand travels down from your cheek. He strokes your throat once, and then his hand closes around it. “Look me in the eye,” he growls, “and say that again.”

His hand is firm, snug, but it doesn’t tighten. But you can imagine so easily how it might. You look him in the eye. You open your mouth, ready to say it again. But then– then you see it. In the way he looks at you, the way he’s always looked at you. You feel it in his grip on you, now. You can’t deny it anymore. 

Curtis shoves you into his bedroom. You’re panting already. You need his hands on you, right now. You don’t have to ask for it. He gets you to the center of the room and yanks down your skirt, tearing it in the process. You step out of it and take your blouse off, throwing it on top of your skirt. Curtis’s eyes are cataloging your body, the swell of your breasts spilling out of your bra, your soft tummy, thick thighs. His gaze, as always, takes your breath away.

You reach out for Curtis’s shirt, but he grabs your hands. “I want you on your knees,” he growls and you immediately kneel for him. He throws off his shirt, revealing the expanse of his chest, the muted blacks and grays of his tattoos. You’re desperate to run your hands over them, trace the art, but instead, they just twitch at your side. He'll tell you what you're allowed to do.

He begins unbuttoning his jeans and your mouth drops open. He chuckles darkly. “Perfect little slut.” He takes his phone out of his back pocket and aims it at you, taking a picture as you gaze up at him under your lashes, your mouth wide open. “I've been dreaming of getting you on your knees for me.” He puts his phone on his dresser, then continues taking off his pants. “You ready to choke on my cock, baby?”

“Please,” you whine. You're practically salivating now. His bare thighs are as thick as tree trunks, the muscles corded. His abs ripple as he moves. His shoulders, his back. You want.

He frees his cock and rolls his black boxer briefs down his legs, stepping out of them. It's long and thick, just like the rest of him. Your breath catches. You don't think you've ever taken something that big before.

He takes a few steps so he's completely in your space, his cock bobbing right in front of your face. He takes it in one hand, the other firmly on the back of your head and slowly feeds the tip into your mouth. You taste his musk on your tongue. As he rocks into your mouth, going a little further each time, your hands come up to grasp his thighs. On his next thrust in, you run your tongue along the underside of his dick. His movements stutter just a little and then he looks down at you, a smirk overtaking his face. It's just a touch mean, in a way that has you soaking your panties. “You ready?” he asks, his voice rough. And then without waiting for the answer, he thrusts in all the way, making you take him deep in your throat.

You flail, slapping his thigh as you try to swallow around him, breathing frantically through your nose. After holding you there for a moment, he sets a brutal but steady pace. It takes you a moment, but you find your rhythm, your panic subsiding. Once you feel steady, you lift one hand from his thighs and bring it up to cradle his balls. “Fuck, Bambi,” he grinds out. “You're gonna– I– fuck!” His hand moves from the back of your head down to the back of your neck, which he grips firmly, pulling you off his cock. As you cough and splutter on the floor, he growls, “The first time you make me come is gonna be inside that perfect cunt.”

He helps you stand on wobbly legs, then shoves his hand between your legs, cupping your pussy over your panties. “Shit, fucking soaked just from deepthroating me?”

You let out a needy little whine, trying to push further into his hand, but he withdraws it, instead settling on your hip. “Well,” he grins, “if they’re ruined anyway…” then uses that hand to rip the black lace down the side, letting them fall to the floor. He makes quick work of your bra as well, then takes a step back and sighs, “Shit, Bambi, look at you.” It’s the reverence in his voice and on his face that has you launching yourself at him, unable to keep from kissing him any longer. He lets you, quickly taking control, letting you feel all his hunger, the want he’s kept barely bottled up since he first laid eyes on you. You understand it all now. His erection brushes against you, and now it’s his turn to whine, just a little. 

He pulls away, brushing a hand down your cheek, then says “Get on the bed, on your stomach.” You quickly comply, laying in the center of the bed with your knees pulled up and spread beneath you. He brings his hand down on one asscheek harshly and you can’t help the lewd moan that escapes you. He chuckles, “Oh, I will definitely remember that for later.” He grabs your hips and cants them up, then whistles at your exposed cunt. “I knew it. Absolutely beautiful.” Then he unceremoniously shoves two fingers into your hole and you choke on nothing. “Shh,” he coos. “You can take it. My cock’s gonna be a lot thicker.” 

As he starts scissoring his fingers inside you, you can’t hold it in any longer and start babbling. Mostly a combination of “please,” and “Curtis,” and “I need,” over and over.

“I know, baby,” he says as he pulls his fingers out of you. “I’ve got what you need right here.” You have a brief moment to feel the tip of his cock on your pussy lips before he’s thrusting it into you, as far as he can go without making it hurt. 

“Oh my god,” you cry, pressing your forehead into the mattress and balling his dark blue sheets in your hands. You feel so full. It’s so good. He’s working himself into you as quickly as he can, desperate now. You both are. Once he bottoms out, fully seated in you, he pauses. Then with one hand on your stomach and the other around your neck, he pulls you up onto your knees, your back flush to his chest. You cry out at the new angle; he’s somehow even deeper now. He starts thrusting up into you at a punishing pace. You’re bouncing up and down in his firm grasp. The hand on your neck turns your head to face him, his lips brushing against yours. He holds eye contact with you as the hand on your stomach snakes down your pelvis so his thick fingers can begin circling your clit. “Fuck! Curtis, please!” you shout. 

“Yeah, come on,” he breathes, “you can let go. You can do it. Come for me like a good girl.” It’s those words that send you careening over the edge, your cunt pulsing around his cock, squeezing him until he’s coming too with a grunt, filling you up until both your cum is leaking out around him. 

He holds you there, on your knees, as you both come down, your twin pants all you can hear.

You wake up slowly, the sun shining on you through the soft drapes. You start to shift then groan at how stiff you are. The night before comes back to you. Curtis took you two more times before you both collapsed in satisfied exhaustion. He’s still out like a light beneath you. 

You take a moment to look at him. It’s odd to see him so peaceful, so still. There’s nothing of the feral predator he projects to the world. It makes you feel oddly close to him, seeing him like this.

You carefully get up without disturbing him and begin collecting your clothes. You put on your bra, but there’s no saving your panties. Same for your skirt; it’s ripped along the seam. So instead you pick up Curtis’s t-shirt from last night and put it on. It smells like him. You breathe it in shamelessly knowing there’s no one to witness it.

You savor the soreness as you move out of the bedroom. It’s like you can still feel him inside you, how much he wanted you, needed you. It makes you feel a little powerful, having that effect on a man like him.

You make your way into his living room. You didn’t really have a chance to look at his house last night, as determined as he was to get you into the bedroom. If you’d ever thought to picture it, this wouldn’t be far off. It’s all rich blues and greens and grays, leather and dark wood. Masculine. It suits him. 

As you’re admiring the room, you hear footsteps behind you and then two big arms are encircling your waist, pulling you into him. “Good morning,” he rasps. 

You turn your head to him. “Good morning,” you say with a smile.

“Fuck, Bambi, you’re even hotter in my shirt than you were last night.”

You smirk at him even as your face heats. “Mmm,” you hum. “It’s comfy. You might not get it back.” He nuzzles into your neck as you continue. “I was hoping you might have something I could wear for bottoms, too. You destroyed my skirt.”

His beard roughly drags against your skin as he asks, “Why the hell would I let you wear bottoms?”

You laugh. “Because I have to leave the house, Curtis.”

“No, you don’t,” he says as his hand begins to move between your thighs.

You playfully swat him away, even as you feel yourself getting wet again from his attention. “I have to go home.”

“Why? You’re staying here.” It’s how certain he sounds that has you turning around in his arms.

“What?”

“I don’t like your building. It isn’t safe enough. Now that I finally have you, of course, I’m going to keep you here with me.”

Once again, you feel too many steps behind. You just blink at him, confused. How does he even know where you live??

He takes your chin in his hand, his fingers gentle. “I told you, Bambi, I take care of what’s mine.”

Tag list

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @ronearoundblindly @brandycranby @midnightramyeoncravings

[fsa-stuff]

Was going through some old pc folders and found bunch of old sketches from ‎2023. thought I'd share :D

Other sketches and story to the second one in read more!

Story time: Playing Four Swords Adventures with friends would be fun, at least that's what it seemed to me at first. In reality, getting four people together in one place proved to be extremely difficult. Plus I was the only one who knew anything about Zelda, my best friend of course knows something too because I was rumbling about it for hours (hehe), and she somehow found 2 other people to play with. It started off well (Green was a real little gremlin who kept being voted out for bad behaviour in the end of each round XD), however the next time one of the players (Blue, who was a pretty self reserved guy. I think he got bored with the gameplay) refused to continue. So we started again with a new player… Unfortunately this didn't work out ether (LOL). So after all these changes, I ended up playing with my other best friend. It was just two of us, but we had a great time and 100% the game, yay!

And now for a bit of interactivity: what colour I chose on the first playthrough? ;D)

In the summer of 2023, I was playing Mafia (aka Werewolf) with my best friend and her friends at a picnic.One of the situations reminded me of our failed attempts playing FSA. That's how this sketch came to life. (๑>؂•̀๑)

[httpseungmxn]

Big Boy

Quackity X Streamer!Female Reader

🍡 - flirty/extra flirty

Authors Note: Hello hello my Angels, I know I promised the Jin fic soon buuuuuut Q posted this photo and everyone, including myself, went wild over it! So I just had to make a fic about it! I have decided to make a new fic category just for this one, flirty/extra flirty! This fic will also play off of the other fics I made about him! I hope you guys can enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!<3

Warnings: Lanai attempts to get reader canceled:( , Reader is called “hermosa” and “amor”, wee bit of cussing fr this time

Triggers: None as far as I am aware!

You had really come to know Alex over the past few months. Him becoming one of your best friends, especially after it came out that your best friend Lenai had been spreading lies about you. She had gone to Alex first, expecting him to believe her, but that was a big mistake. As soon as he noticed the negative way she was speaking, he hopped on call with you while also helping notify your fans of the girl's lies.

Nightly calls were almost a daily thing between you two, as well as constant facetimes during yours and his visits to the gym. His hat was always left on, despite feeling just a little extra hot, he wasn’t quite ready to show you yet. You fully understood considering you used to hide your face from everyone. 

The closer you got, the more you wanted to visit him. You were bringing much more in than you expected from streaming, so a plane ticket wouldn’t be a problem. You wanted it to be a surprise to Alex though, knowing that would make it more fun. Alex had often talked about you guys meeting in real life, and how exciting it would be. It was decided, you would be booking a flight to see him. You already knew where he lived, having reached out to karl to help you with the surprise. Making him swear he wouldn’t tell alex you were going to see him. The plane ticket was much easier to get than you expected, and packing was done in a matter of hours.

The nerves set in that night after you had finished packing. It was clear to you and the fans that you had a bit of a thing for Alex, and getting to meet him was making you nervous. You always wondered if you should tell him how you felt but was always too scared to let it slip out to him. You had come so close to saying it a few days ago but it just got stuck in your throat.

You hardly slept the night, and as much as you hoped you would sleep on the plane, you didn’t. You were too nervous and excited at the same time. Feeling bad when you had to decline a facetime from alex while you were on the plane, not wanting to spoil the surprise. Though you answered him as soon as you were off the plane and in a taxi. “ hermosa, why didn’t you answer any of my calls before? I thought you were mad at me! “, “ im sorrrryyyy, I was taking a long nap, I’m in a taxi now though “,  “ a taxi? Where are you going, hermosa? “,  smiling to yourself, knowing in just a short while he will know where you are.

That came sooner than you expected though. Getting out of the taxi and making sure the camera is angled directly at your face so he can’t see where you are. “ im just visiting a friend nearby. Hold on just one sec, alex. “. knocking very gently on his door and looking to the camera, nerves setting back in when you see him leave his room. “ someones here, but I didn’t order any pizza. if I die, it was the hut, hermosa. “, unable to hold back a giggle. Looking to the door when it opens and smiling brightly at the boy in front of you. “ guess now you know which friend I’m visiting, huh? “. He didn’t respond at first, probably still trying to process it. Just as you didn’t process what he was doing until you were lifted up into a tight hug.

Smiling brightly as you hugged back. Not even letting go when you were set down. His arms were wrapped to tight around your waist, if you were a balloon you probably would’ve popped by now. You didn’t mind it though, you felt safe in his arms. Your nerves being shooed away with one little hug. “ how the fuck did you manage to surprise me so well, hermosa “ ,  “ you know I like to keep you on your toes, ‘lex “. Smiling again when he lets out a light laugh at your response. 

“ come in, come in, sorry it might be kind of a mess “, Alex spoke as he gathered your bags and carried them inside for you. Only then did you realize just how big he had gotten in the muscle category. Eyes staring at his muscles as they flexed with each movement. “ alex, when the hell did you manage to grow those? “, unable to hold your filter. 

Listening to him laugh again before he flexed his arms to show off for you. “ are you checking me out, amor? “. That was new, he had never called you that before, and it was obvious to him you knew what it meant considering the blush coming to your cheeks. “ now don’t get too ahead of yourself, cowboy, you were the one purposely checking me out on call just five minutes ago “.

“ Did you expect me not too? You look really beautiful in that dress “. That was also new. Alex was constantly teasing you, but the tone in his voice was different now. It sounded so serious and dripped with confidence in how he felt. You found it hard to hold eye contact wit him now. Not even five minutes into the meet up, and alex already had you red.

“ Lets be honest, Amor, surely you didn’t expect me to hold back just because you’d turn all red and yell at me. You being here just means I can let it all out, times ten. “. His smile had you wobbly in the legs, there was something so different about seeing it in person compared to facetime.

Only now did you realize this visit was going to be a lot more different than you expected. 

Alex was going to be the death of you.

Authors ending note; So who else got butterflies reading that? I got jittery and I’m the one writing it! I feel like I’m slowly beginning to get better at portraying him, and thats probably because I study the way a lot of people write him while also paying extra attention to how he is in streams/videos. Perhaps soon we will get a confession, and possibly a hair reveal? Who knowssss, guess you guys will have to just stick around for the next one! Also who else lost their mind over that photo he dropped last night? I’m in the whatsapp and as soon as he sent it, twitter was going absolutely chaotic[myself included]! If you guys wanna follow me on social media, my X is @/f_fuyuma! Until next time, My Angels 🫶

[dsireland86]

Hello ☺️ Hope your doing well.

Could I please request a Matt Dierkes one shot if possible him being a grumpy ass except to his wife?? Fluffy and cute 🙏

Oh you are my first Matt Dierkes one-shot! Yes! Thank you for the inspiration :)

Feeling on the Edge

TAGS: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @theanarchymuse95 @thisbicc @lma1986

Matt drummed his fingers on his lap anxiously. I could tell he was in a bad mood, dying to get out of the video call meeting with the management team. His face said he was irritated and completely over the whole record label bull crap. He just wanted to be done.

Seeing how fidgety he was, I nudged his leg beneath the table with my foot hoping the friction was enough to tame his temper. He looked over at me and his dark eyes, full aggression, immediately softening.

I grinned at him to let him know I was still in his corner. He grinned back, took a deep breath, and refocused his attention on the computer screen, but not before reaching over and placing his hand on the inside of my thigh.

The rest of the day was hell for everyone, because Matt insisted on setting the world around him on fire. Every little thing that someone did annoyed him. Every word that was said, Matt had some sarcastic, snippy remark to follow it.

In the process of just three hours, he managed to break a computer monitor because he was too impatient, cut the wrong wire while attempting to splice a cable that Noah said was dead, spill Nicholas's coffee all down the front of him because he turned around too fast out of anger, dropped a mix board, misplaced his phone not once, not twice, but three times, and to top it all off, he had run out of Dr. Pepper.

"Dude, you need to calm the hell down! You starting to stress me out," Folio criticized him.

"Yeah, no joke. And if Folio is stressed then the rest of us are at the point of giving you a beatdown."

Matt glared at Noah who crossed his arms while leaning against the table. Matt didn't speak, but the look he was giving Noah screamed a big "fuck you".

"Well, it's not my fault. Those stupid pieces of shit at the record label treat me like I'm and idiot sometimes. I'm not a fucking idiot! I know how to do my job!"

"Nobody is say you are, baby," I pointed out.

"Matt calm down, man. You know not to listen to those people."

Nicholas came walking into the conversation after switching to a pair of clean clothes.

"Oh my god! What the hell are you wearing?"

Matt's expression was of utter disgust, looking at Nick. All of us turned and stared, a few bursting into fits of laughter. Nick didn't match at all. Sporting a neon pink shit that was a little too snug and a pair of snake skin looking pants that were way too stretchy for him to be wearing, he looked ridiculous.

"What?" Nick shrugged with his hands up. "It's all I could find. If someone hadn't been so angry and turned around so fast," scowling over at Matt, "I wouldn't be in this mess."

"Oh so it's my fault you look like a clown?" Matt snapped.

"Yeah, I kinda is," Nick shot back. "And your piss poor attitude!"

"What! I don't have a piss poor attitude! I've just had a fucked up day and all of you have added to it!"

"What! I didn't do anything!" I exclaimed defensively.

Matt's eyes quickly shifted over to me. "No, no, not you baby. You're fine. You haven't done anything wrong," he reassured me, smiling.

"Oh for god's sake, come on man! Your wife isn't that perfect," Folio groaned.

"Hey!"

"Mmm, I don't know, Folio, she's pretty perfect. I mean, you've had her cooking, and we all know that's she's done your laundry a few times, even finding the matches to your lost socks."

Folio looked at me, smiling apologetically.

"Yeah I guess so. Sorry, Y/N," he said leaning over and laying a sweet soft kiss on my cheek.

"Okay, well if you all are done flirting with my wife, I'd like to have her back now, please. Go get your own women! She belongs to me."

"Matt! That was so mean!"

"What! It's true! They're always trying to steal you from me."

I laughed so hard.

"Holy shit, Matt, you can't be serious!"

"Especially you," he chided Noah. "You're always trying to get in her pants."

"Alright, Matthew. That's it! Come with me; now!"

"It's Matt," he corrected me as I pulled him away from the group.

"What is going on with you? Where did that come from? Noah? Really, Matt!"

Squeezing his eyes shut, Matt pinched the bridge of his nose, walking sluggishly over to me. I snaked my arms around his waist, shaking my head at the Lord of the Rings Shirt he was wearing.

"I just washed that shirt and hung it up last night," I scolded him.

Turning his hat backwards, he lowered his forehead to mine, taking a deep breath.

"I'm sorry. I'm snapping again, aren't I?"

I smiled, placing my hands on the sides of his face.

"Yes, baby, you are," slowly sliding my hands up under his shirt. I played with the front of the waistband of his joggers, feeling his tummy sink in from being so ticklish. He chuckled, jerking his body away from me, but I gathered his shirt in my hands and pulled him back into me. That's when his lips found mine, colliding ever so gently. They were wet and warm, and tasted like the recent Celsius he'd just had.

"I'm sorry," he breathed.

"For which part?"

He scowled at me, confused.

"For being grumpy or the shirt?"

Matt laughed, giving me a quick kiss.

"Both."

"You owe those guys over there more of an apology. You've been horrible to them today. Are you listening to me?"

"Yup, I am," he assured me. But the way he scooped me up into his arms, leaning over me and attaching his lips to my neck, I knew he wasn't.

"Matthew, stop!" I squealed, trying to get out of his clutches. "Let me go!"

"It's Matt, and no," he groaned, letting his head fall to my chest as I continued to wiggle out of his embrace. "I'm not letting you go. Ever."

The more I wiggled, the more he tightened his grip and my leg got caught up in his, tripping me, and causing me to fall. I squeezed my eyes shut, preparing for the hard impact, only to meet a soft body beneath me and a slight bump to the floor. I looked down and saw Matt beneath me.

"Shit, baby!"

"I'm fine. Don't worry. I'm good." He stared up at me, smiling.

"What? Are you sure?"

"Positive," he assures me, reaching up and pulling me into his lips. He kissed me slow, taking his time to let me feel every move he made.

"Mmm, that... I like that."

He grinned. "I like, you. A lot."

"Oh really? I hadn't noticed," I joked, leaning in and kissing him again, feeling him smile against my lips.

Matt sat up and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his lap. I rested my arms on his shoulders, staring into his eyes.

"You're really pretty, you know that?"

"Oh, so you can give compliments. Shocking!"

"Shut-up! God," he shook his head laughing. "Your sarcasm's going to kill me one day. And what the hell, I'm trying to be nice here!"

Matt tickled my sides, making me laugh hysterically.

"I love you," he said, kissing my forehead.

Wrapping myself up in his arms, I snuggle into Matt, burying my face in his chest. His heart was beating fast, telling me he was happy; that I made him happy.

"I love you, too, Matthew," I replied, grinning.

"It's Matt."

[failyaoi]

KIMIKO LORE ADVANCEMENTS… WHO CHEERED

Starting off we have her powers: 

I decided I wanted her powers to be …witchcraft? I’m not sure what the exact word for it is, but it’s like necromancy, just for spirits/souls. She can summon spirits and once they are in her control they’re a greenish-teal colour (diff from ermac) ! It works more like commanding them rather than being completely mindless under her control. She can see other spirits pretty much at all times.

(to me this is Johnny and Kenshi’s powers combined [hence the power colour] , I can’t explain how but it makes sense to me LMFAO) 

she tends to summon a monster spirit quite frequently by accident, (as seen in the picture) but eventually finds out he just keeps coming back because he lovesss herr aww awwww

Her powers come with negative effects like spirits attaching themselves to her, which can cause her to become withdrawn from other people and unable to summon other spirits if the spirit becomes negative.

She isn't very good with her powers and WANTS to get better she just doesn't really know where to start especially since neither one of her parents have the exact same powers. Maybe she gets taught by a certain character ?

other than that, I think she would like to use long-range guns and to kinda stay in the back with her range in fighting rather than go head-first with her fists

now for the sad part

As much as it pained me to do so I wanted to expand on a mk1 ver of her 😭😭 I REFUSED to make her Kenshi’s cousin or niece or WHATEVER they would’ve done to her so I decided to make her from the future which was my original theory for Takeda- she’s from a future where whatever bad guy wins and now the future is just the worst thing possible. She was raised by just Sonya as Kenshi and Johnny died in that future after she was born, which is why she’s more shy/reserved in this timeline. She had worked with Liu Kang from her time to send her back so she could attempt to fix the future, and who knows if she’ll be successful or not she can only do so much !! it’s kinda depressing to think about but it’s really the only thing I can think of ;-;

OK THAT'S IT FOR MK1

For mk11….I just want her to be independent, and follow in Kenshi's footsteps on taking solo missions. I haven’t thought too much about it yet but she definitely gets really good at witchcraft and maybe gets into some trouble in outworld.

Some extra doodles vvv

I love you Kimiko Blade

[demodraws0606]

Okay so I have made a really bad post trying to descredit Eden taking the tape as something super important so I'm just gonna drop the actual post I was preparing instead of trying to catch Eden!Culprit theories with a half baked post.

The main issue I'm having with Eden!Culprit theories right now is mostly because of stubborness that since Eden took the tape then she HAS to have done it even though if she was the culprit it would make 0 sense as to why she wouldn't just take the tape after Teruko and Ace left the room ? Like someone could've easily told her to take the tape, it's not that hard and it just makes more sense with the other evidence layed out for us.

The main reason I accepted Eden as the culprit before is because there were no possible culprits since Levi was pretty much confirmed innocent and there was still a likelyhood of Eden working for someone. However, this pretty much now rendered null and void. I swear all of this makes it sound like I have some grudge against this theory but I really need to put this subject to rest before the answer is probably revealed to us on friday. I want to make sure this theory is dead in the ground even if it's just for me personally, because it just has too many holes for me.

Also sorry if this seems mainly just a repeat of stuff I've already said, I'm not really good at structuring my posts :')

I've seen the argument that Arei actually wasn't knocked out with the turpentine because why would they bind her wrist then. However, we know she had to have been knocked because there is no struggle shown, either on her body or the floor of the playground. Weither she was suffocated or knocked out, the tape was still used on her wrist so this can't be something to be used against the idea of turpentine knocking her out. This means there is high likelyhood that it was used because it would make no sense for the culprit to just suffocate Arei before killing her (and again suffocating would show more signs of struggle than what we see on the crime scene).

There's also no other items that Arei could've been suffocated with other than the rope which would've left marks, the ball of starch clearly is stuck together most likely by turpentine which means it would've been used to knock out someone.

This would mean the culprit had to have used the turpentine to knock out Arei as well, meaning the culprit had to have gotten their hands on the turpentine.

I also refuse the idea of Eden trying to kill Ace, not only because I just find it ridiculous from a character standpoint but mainly because we know it was Hu's murder weapon that was used against Ace (the wire) considering there is no evidence of any other wire existing in this killing game that would be sharp enough to slice someone's throat. Hu's wire is part of the weapons which is evidence alone that it would be sharp enough to harm Ace bc otherwise what purpose does a wire serve. I don't believe for a second that Hu would just have her weapon lying around for anyone to yoink, unlike the turpentine which we know had to have been used by Nico and Rose when they were painting together.

In fact the story has made it clear how complicated taking someone weapon's is by having Arei's weapon only being available after she discarded it. The same can be said of the turpentine which was used out in the open and would make it easy to take with Rose's absent mindedness. If taking someone's weapon was just as easy as that, they wouldn't have given us the scene of Arei throwing out her rope like that in the first place.

Eden also has no reason to want to replicate Ace's murder onto Arei, there's basically no logical motivation behind that. In fact the progression between Ace's attempted and Arei's succesful murder proves alone that it's the same culprit (if the turpentine's existence wasn't enough). We can see the progression of the culprit trying to avoid the same mistakes they committed with Ace's failed murder (trying to snap Arei's neck to avoid the possibility of her getting saved last minute like Ace, bounding her hands potentially to make her more stable to lift upwards).

We don't even know if she figured out how the murder even worked considering it was completely undone when Teruko and Eden saw it.

Even the timing of when Eden knew about the clothing is off. We know the ball of clothing is probably sticky due to the turpentine because there is no other leads to explain why this ball of clothing is even a thing in this murder case. Turpentine is both clear and sticky, which would explain how the ball of clothing is both clear of stains and sticking together like that. Considering also that we know for a fact Ace was knocked out, and I don't think the culprit straight just shoved a jar of turpentine on his face, they most likely used some sort of tissue to smother them with (meaning it couldn't have been used to asphexiate Arei). This means the ball of clothes was used in Ace's attempted murder.

Eden only knew about the clothing change from Hu, we can only assume the same day that Ace's was murdered and probably not long before the attempt. This both clears Eden going to the changing room as the ""ball of starch"" was most likely already created before that, the only arguemnt it could be used for is that she was trying to retrieve it but it barely makes sense.

In terms of the timing of when Eden knew about the clothes and Ace's murder, if Hu only told her the same night that Ace was almost murdered it makes the timing insanely more difficult to justify. Unlike Hu who would have the pieces ready way more in advance.

All of these contradictions cannot be debunked by saying "well Eden took the tape", as it could easily be explained by the culprit asking her to take the tape from the gym or her just taking it without purpose and then the culprit getting their hands on it later.

The Eden!Culprit theory is barely hanging onto one piece of shakey evidence that can easily be broken by one justification.

If Nico can't be the culprit despite having the turpentine (well I don't think they do but 99 pourcent of Eden!culprit theories rely on Eden not really committing the attempted murder of Ace) then Eden doesn't have to be the culprit taking the tape.

The only way you can argue Eden is the culprit is if she tried to kill Ace, however this is impossible because of Hu's weapon. This is basically the summary of my main issue with the whole Eden!Culprit theory.

[herearedragons]

The Hanged Man (Chapter 4: In The Wake)

Chapter 1

Read on AO3

The house was still burning when they left.

No one came to try and fight the fire; no one came to speak to them as they watched the flames, or as they walked away. But the village was wide awake, every house full of anxious minds; more often than not the curtains were drawn and the shutters closed, but Selene knew that there were eyes in every window they passed by.

At least some of those people must have been awake when the fire started. Some of them must have known exactly who did this. Selene could have found out everything about the attempt on Edér's life right there and then, simply by listening a little closer.

But there were many of them, and their anxious curiosity was laced with painful fear — and she was already in pain again, her headache back in full swing and her entire upper body starting to feel the aftereffects of Edér's borrowed strength.

She didn't have the endurance for it. Not right now.

That was the limit of a cipher's abilities: you could convince a mind, for a time, that its body was capable of more than it thought — and, for a time, the body would play along, but in the end reality would always return.

Still, in this case it was worth it. She'd pushed both herself and Edér, but in the end it meant that there were still two of them, when there could have been just one.

Now that the initial rush of adrenaline was wearing off, Selene was slowly coming to terms with that thought.

She'd almost lost her witness and her main ally. She didn't, but it was far too close.

Someone — multiple people working together, from the look of it — had made an attempt on Edér's life, while fully aware that he was under her protection. She'd announced it before the entire village, save for Algar, and even he was informed later.

This only made sense if the group that did this stood to lose more by letting Edér live than by making an enemy out of her.

Which only made sense if —

The realization cut through the haze of pain and exhaustion, sharp and bright.

Edér could help her. It wasn't just a matter of her intuition; someone else was afraid of them working together.

This meant two things.

First, she was on the right track with the investigation of Lady Ygrid's murder.

Second, they would try again. If Selene's presence didn't scare them off, failure wouldn't either.

Which meant that she couldn't let Edér out of her sight.

He was walking silently by her side, his grief for his childhood home a dull ache in the back of her mind. Still, compared to what she felt — what he felt — as they watched the house burn, it was almost nothing.

Maybe she wasn't being a good agent when she chose to grit her teeth and sit with him instead of stepping away and taking stock of their surroundings. Sacrificing her own ability to function for the sake of comforting someone; Lady Webb might not have approved, had she known.

Selene remembered having a tooth pulled once, when she was younger. The actual pulling wasn't bad, a fellow cipher holding the pain away from her just like she did for Edér just now, but after it ached and ached and ached. Edér's mind as he stared at the flames felt a little like that: a deep-seated pain left in the wake of something gone.

But it weakened somewhat when she took his hand, and for that reason, she couldn't regret it.

Near the end of their walk to the Black Hound — Selene decided they'd both stay in her room for the night; she would figure out a new arrangement for Edér in the morning — Edér's thoughts stirred, alerting her that he was about to speak up.

She turned to him a second too early, before the words even began to leave his mouth, and realized her mistake when she saw him flinch.

He recovered quickly, and said:

"Guess you knew I was gonna say something."

Selene just nodded; there was no reason to dwell on it.

"You know what, or? — "

"I'm still not reading your mind. I just felt an intent."

Edér nodded.

"Alright. Well, I just wanted to ask…"

There was a pang of hesitation in his mind; he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer to his question.

Still, he continued:

"You must've read a lot of minds in Gilded Vale, by now."

"Not as many as you might think," Selene said. "But some."

"See anything in there that could explain… that?" He gestured vaguely behind them, where the orange blaze was still visible in the distance. "Why they hate me that much?"

His voice stayed mostly steady as he asked, with the smallest crack at the end, but Selene could tell that he had to make an effort to keep it that way.

The pain in his mind was familiar in a way she did her best not to dwell on.

"What happened yesterday, it made sense," Edér said. "Wasn't a great morning for me, but at least I saw it coming. Been eighteen folks there before me, I'd be Nineteen. But burning…" His voice trailed off; he shook his head. "No one's been burned alive in Gilded Vale before, not as execution. What'd I do to be the first?"

Selene hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right way to word her answer.

"I don't think it was an act of hatred," she said finally.

Immediately, Edér's mind bristled with irritation, telling her that she chose wrong.

"Right, 'cause burning down a house is how you show neighborly love. The boarded up windows are a nice touch; really lets 'em know you care."

The pain behind her eyes flared up.

Selene took a deep breath.

That was on her. She couldn't respond with irritation in turn; they were both hurt and exhausted and coming off a near-death experience, and were about to spend the rest of the night in the same room.

Don't get angry at him. Don't get angry at yourself for messing it up. Just keep talking.

"If it was about hatred, they would have done this a long time ago," she said. "Maybe during the first purges, or after Swithin's hanging. But what's the point in mob violence when your target is standing with one foot on the gallows already?"

Edér grimaced briefly at the mention of Swithin's name, but didn't say anything; the sound of his thoughts didn't betray extreme discomfort at her knowing the story, just a sense of regret.

And then came her question, and finally there was something else in his mind except for seething emotion.

He considered her words.

"Maybe they thought I was gonna get away?"

Selene nodded.

"And why would they think that? Forget what we know; no one heard me tell you I know you're innocent. I made sure."

She kept her voice low as she said that. They were walking through an emptier part of the village, and, while Selene didn't sense any immediate attention, the quiet meant that their voices would carry further.

Suddenly, Edér stopped in his tracks. Selene stopped too, and watched his expression shift as he put the pieces together.

"…'Cause they also know I didn't do it," he said. "And they need me gone."

For a second, his mind was still hovering between doubt and certainty, and then the decision was made; Selene could almost see the scales tip.

Edér's hands balled into fists at his sides; when he spoke again, his voice was low with anger, not unlike what she'd heard in Pasca's memory when he talked about Raedulf.

"They were covering it up. That pigshit burned my parents' house down to cover up his crime."

He was referring to Raedric. It seemed that he had made up his mind about who was responsible for Ygrid's death, which was fine; being objective about the case and the available evidence was Selene's job, not his.

"If that's the case, he made a mistake," Selene said.

"That he did," Edér agreed grimly. "Think I've got some words for our esteemed lord, when I see him next."

"You'll have to keep it to just words, unfortunately," she said, aware of the violent intent stirring in his mind. "Any more than that, and I'd have to take you in along with him."

Edér raised an eyebrow:

"You could look the other way? Blink real slow?"

She shook her head.

For a moment, it seemed as though Edér was about to say something else, but then he just sighed and nodded, resigned.

"Alright," he said. "But we're gonna get him."

"We will," Selene said. "Do you want to know what the killer's real mistake was?"

"Not finishing the job?"

"Revealing their hand. Wanting you gone so badly means that as long as you're alive — " Selene pointed at him — "there's a threat to them. There's something you know, or something you are, that can lead us to answers."

"Well, that's something," Edér said, uncertain. "Wish we knew what that was."

Then, he frowned:

"Hey, you okay? You look... kinda shaky."

He was referring to her hand; for as simple a gesture as it was, pointing at him required a significant effort on Selene's part, and her entire arm trembled as she did it.

Gods damn it. She must have seriously overtaxed either Edér's body or her own while dealing with the fire; the kickback from borrowing someone else's strength was usually not that severe.

"I'll be fine once I rest," Selene said.

☾

By the time they got to the inn, Edér was the one carrying Selene's still-damp cloak because she'd dropped it on the way, her hands shaking too badly to maintain a proper grip. She couldn't grab a door handle either, and had to let him open all the doors.

She pushed down her frustration and the tiny tinge of dread at her own helplessness at a moment where they could very well still be in danger, and led the way to her room.

The Black Hound was quiet at this time of night. There were some restless minds awake, people peering out of windows at the fire in the distance, but the anxiety here was much lesser than near Edér's house: less people, more distance, less information about what exactly was happening.

No one was in the common room or in the hall upstairs, which was great.

Once they were in the room, Selene had Edér lock the door and check that the window was still latched shut, the same way as she left it. The room wasn't too cold and the glow of her own hair gave them more than enough light to see, which spared her from having to ask him to light the fire.

Only when the arrangements were more or less to her liking — and she was sure that she wasn't detecting any minds with ill intent in their immediate vicinity — did she allow herself to sit down on the bed, wrap her aching arms around herself, close her eyes and exhale, slowly and loudly.

Everything hurt: her eyes, her arms, her chest, the space between her ears. Edér's thoughts weren't as painful anymore, at least; the worst that was reaching her was vague concern, which paled in comparison to everything else.

Selene allowed herself the luxury of self-pity for a second, then took a deep breath and told Edér:

"Look in my bag on the desk. There should be potions, small vials of clear liquid. Get me one."

He nodded and went off to rummage in her things.

Selene hadn't brought a lot with her: a change of clothes, spare bullets, some snacks, basic hygiene supplies and her medicine. Anything beyond that she could either do without, or purchase on the spot.

The medicine was what Edér was looking for. It wasn't rare for a cipher to need some sort of medication to help with the more unpleasant side of their powers; some suffered mood swings, some had trouble focusing their attention or falling asleep, and some, like Selene, had to deal with pain and exhaustion.

She didn't like resorting to the medicine, which was the reason for it being packed away in her bag and not in one of her pockets or in a belt pouch, where it would tempt her at all times. Depending on the severity of her pain, the medicine would either take it away entirely or make it far more tolerable — but as a side effect, it would dull her cipher senses, too. In most circumstances, that was a bad bargain.

But right now, the pain was making thinking difficult, and Selene needed to think. She needed to make a new plan. To review evidence. To make sure Edér was alright.

"Found it."

He approached her with a vial of the clear potion. Selene nodded her thanks and attempted to take it from his hand, only to discover that effort was beyond her at the moment.

Edér ended up having to tip the vial into her mouth, just as she did with the healing potion after he'd burned himself. He noticed the similarity as well; setting the empty vial aside, he said:

"Well, guess we're even about nursing each other back to health now. Feel better yet?"

She was, in fact, starting to feel better; the medicine worked fast. First, the painful knot behind her eyes came unwound; then her upper body began to relax, her mind released from whatever self-destructive loop it was caught in.

Selene nodded.

"Thanks."

Edér stood silent for a long moment; at first she didn't understand why, and then he said:

"Black bones, I really am dumb, aren't I? All that, and I hadn't even thanked you for saving me. Again."

Selene looked up at him. With the sound of his thoughts muffled, it was impossible to tell what was happening in his mind, but he looked as tired as she felt. He'd wiped most of the soot off his face as they walked, but there were still black smears left, and his beard and hair looked several shades darker than they did during the day; his eyes were still bloodshot, irritated by smoke.

To be perfectly honest, she didn't mind the lack of thanks, but it was nice of him to say something.

"It's fine," she said. "I did what I had to. If anything, I wish I could have prevented it in the first place."

"Well, I wish Waidwen had stayed at home and kept growing vorlas." Edér shrugged, exhaustion clouding anything else that might have showed in his voice or expression; Selene wasn't sure what exactly he meant to convey. "I'm still here, and I could've not been, so, thank you."

He settled heavily on the opposite end of the bed; the frame creaked faintly as he sat down. He stared into the space in front of him for a moment, then buried his face in his hands with a weary sigh, elbows resting on his knees.

"I'm sorry about your house," Selene said.

"Thanks," came the answer, flat and muffled between his hands.

She leaned her back against the wall and stared at a corner of the ceiling, both unsettled and relieved by the rare blankness of her own mind.

It was strangely peaceful, sitting together in silence. Whether it was the lingering excitement of a successful rescue, the relief of both of them still being alive, or just a natural extension of her sympathy towards him, for a moment Selene felt a weird kinship with the man sitting next to her.

Her thoughts went back to the first glimpse she'd caught of his mind, back by the tree.

There was the cold, and the irritation, and the fear. The knowledge that he was innocent.

And flashes of a memory from years ago: a man and a woman, unarmed, struggling against two armed and armored guards in a small one-room house.

They had killed those guards.

They were defending a Hollowborn.

Edér had wondered aloud why Selene was so willing to involve herself in his fate, and she had no doubt he'd wondered even more in his thoughts. To him, there was no reason for anyone to ever want to help him.

But many would say that there was no reason to defend a soulless infant, and Edér did it anyway. Even if Selene couldn't admit to him that she knew that — and she couldn't, not while he was still a subject of Raedric's and her suspect — she kept this thought in the back of her mind.

Those with sympathy for the broken beyond repair were rarer and rarer in the Dyrwood nowadays, and, if Selene could save even one of them, she owed it to herself to try.

And she had to admit it: she liked Edér. He was a quicker thinker than she'd expected, brave enough to speak his mind, and resilient in the face of pressure that would have caused many others to snap.

She wanted to see him survive.

Selene thought again about the pain that felt familiar; the thought of his that she had caught and discarded immediately, fearing to hurt herself if she examined it closer. With her mind numbed by the medicine, she could allow herself to face it, for a time.

See anything there that could explain that? Why they hate me that much?

The betrayal of learning that your community wants you utterly and entirely gone, every trace of you. As if you had never existed.

It was a shame that Edér had to experience that, too.

Just as her thoughts started to spiral, going further down the path she usually kept closed, his voice pulled her back to reality:

"…There's something I'm wondering about. How'd you find me?"

Selene looked over. Edér was still sitting on the opposite edge of the bed, his face no longer in his hands; his expression was still weary, but more focused than it was before. He'd pulled himself together, for now.

"I was on the edge of town, checking the horse lead," she said. "Then I saw fire in the distance, and ran to see what was happening. Once I got close enough, I knew that it was your house, and could sense your mind inside. You know the rest."

Edér hummed in acknowledgement.

"Nice trick, that; talking inside my brain. Blocking my pain, too. I still don't get the thing with the cloak, though."

"I borrowed your strength. Convinced my own mind for a time that it was in your body, which is stronger and can do things I normally can't. Usually I'd explain before doing this, but…" Selene shrugged, and felt a pinch of relief when her body didn't protest at the motion. "There wasn't much time."

Edér's brows knitted together in a frown as he — probably thought about her explanation, but, again, she couldn't know for sure.

Now that the pain relief had fully set in, she was already missing her telepathy.

Eventually Edér nodded, to himself more than to her, but it seemed like there still was something on his mind.

Finally, he said:

"It's funny, you know; twice now you showed up just when I was sure I was about to see the Wheel. That kind of luck… Hel, it's almost enough to make me think maybe my god's not dead after all."

Once again, Selene couldn't tell the intent behind his words. Was he just sharing an insight? Asking her to reaffirm his fath? Something else?

Still, she had to respond somehow.

"…You think Eothas sent me?"

The corner of his mouth curled up into a mirthless smile.

"Don't think there's anyone left who can say for sure what Eothas did or didn't. But you, well, you're the closest thing to a miracle I've seen in a long time. Trying to figure out how I should feel about it."

Me and you both, Selene thought.

All she could say for sure was that Edér wasn't mocking her when he said that, and that his uncertainty seemed genuine.

"Well, if a god did send me, it would have to be Ondra," she said after a few seconds of silence. "And I don't think she'd do that."

"'Cause you think she doesn't like you being in Dunryd Row."

"No. Because I used to serve her, and then turned away from my duties."

The words left her mouth before she could think better of it.

Selene wasn't sure what she was doing. Sure, she felt some sympathy for Edér, but this — she didn't talk about this. She just didn't. Even without the headache that would usually accompany those memories, just a vague mention was enough to conjure a sinking feeling in her stomach.

But it was too late to question herself, because she did say it.

Maybe it was the medicine clouding up her thoughts, but, for some reason, some part of her felt like he'd understand.

Edér was watching her intently; it felt that way, at least.

"What happened?" he asked.

The sinking feeling got worse. For a second, she could almost taste briny water in her mouth again, but taking a deep breath was enough to make that disappear.

"I was unhappy," Selene said. "I got tired of drowning everyone else's sorrows. When I said that I was going to leave the temple, some people tried to stop me by force. I still left, but it wasn't pretty."

That was an understatement, but the full details didn't really matter.

"Ondra never spoke to me. Not when I was devout; not when I began to question; not when I was getting sick from doing something I didn't believe in anymore. Every single person I knew was certain that I was chosen, but I don't think she ever cared about anything that happened to me."

After a moment of hesitation, she added:

"I want to believe that Eothas is different. Maybe all of them are; maybe Ondra is kind and caring, just not to me. I don't know. I just know that if anyone comes to me looking for the gods' wisdom, I can only disappoint."

She hoped she'd be able to leave Edér with some hope for his own faith while also letting him know that he wouldn't find any answers with her.

She had no way of telling if it worked; his expression stayed attentive and guarded, and she couldn't tell whether there was acceptance or disappointment on the other end.

"Well, that's honest at least," Edér said. "I appreciate that."

And then:

"Wasn't right what those folks did, trying to get you to stay. Thing with faith is, you can't force it on people any more than you can force it out of 'em."

For reasons Selene didn't fully understand, breathing became difficult for a moment.

She nodded, hoping that would suffice as a response, and, seemingly, it did. Edér's eyes crinkled as he gave her a brief smile; this time, there was no bitterness in it.

She was right. He did understand; the part of it that she could bear to share, at the very least.

Maybe saying it was a good idea after all. It wasn't exactly relevant to the case, but, still, the two of them were in this together; a small show of trust could only serve to make their cooperation easier.

The strange tightness had disappeared from her throat at this point, so Selene spoke up:

"We should rest; there's still time until dawn. Take the bed, I'm fine sleeping on the floor."

Edér shook his head.

"Make it the other way 'round," he said. "No disrespect, agent, but I'm not letting a lady sleep on the floor."

Despite herself, Selene chuckled.

"That would be very polite of you, had you not almost burned your face off less than an hour ago," she said. "You're more hurt than me, and you need a good rest for the healing to fully set in. Besides, I'm going to stay awake for a little longer, go over my notes."

From his expression, it seemed that Edér wasn't fully convinced, but he didn't keep arguing.

"Alright. Wake me if you change your mind, or if there's trouble."

"I will," Selene promised, and stood up.

As she did, Edér regarded his own filthy, charred clothes for a moment, and then said:

"…Yeah, Pasca'll kill me if I let that touch her linens. Think I'm gonna have to take those off; don't know what your sensibilities are, but you might wanna shield your eyes for a second."

She nodded:

"I'll give you privacy."

Selene sat down at the small desk on the other side of the room — conveniently positioned so that her back was turned to the bed — and took out her journal again.

Hearing shuffling noises behind her as her co-investigator and official suspect presumably stripped down and got into bed, she briefly reviewed her earlier notes: the notes she took at the crime scene, a recollection of her conversation with Pasca, and some inconclusive notes about the notable lack of recent hoofprints and horse excrement on the outskirts of Gilded Vale, as well as a lack of eyewitness accounts of a woman riding into town. There was also a proper case summary now, written just after her conversation with the innkeeper, and a single, mostly empty page dedicated to her investigation of Hattorn's fate.

"'Right, I'm decent, kinda," Edér's voice sounded behind her back. "I'll have to get new clothes from somewhere tomorrow, else this investigation's gonna get real awkward."

"Good point."

On a new page, Selene started making a list. First item:

Get Edér a change of clothes

"Know who can help with that?" she asked.

"I'd ask Pasca."

"Alright." Selene noted it down.

She mulled the next point over in her mind for a moment, before putting down:

Move into a room for two

It wasn't ideal — her pretense of still suspecting Edér would definitely suffer — but after tonight, she couldn't see a way to keep him safe outside of her presence.

What else?

Search the remains of the house

That was just practical. If any of Edér's things happened to survive the fire, he should have them.

There was maybe one other thing she could think of regarding the consequences of the house fire.

"Edér, is there a healer in town?"

"Not anymore," he said. "Left a couple years ago, once Raedric got too crazy for her tastes. No one was brave enough to take up after her. When someone gets real bad, folks trek out to Anslög's Compass to see her."

No active temple, no healer: Gilded Vale wasn't too kind to the sick and injured.

"Alright then."

She'd have liked to have Edér checked for lasting damage — a single healing potion should have fixed most of it, but the effects of those often varied — but it seemed like that wouldn't be easily possible. She'd just have to trust that the potion sufficed, and keep an eye out for symptoms that said otherwise.

For now, this seemed like a good plan.

"You should try to sleep," Selene told him. "Let me know if my hair is too bright."

It's been a complaint in the past, when she had to share rooms with others: not in the temple — she's always had a room of her own there — but later in Hadret House, when she was in training. She'd learned to cover her hair and horns to let her roommates sleep.

"Nah, I'm fine. Goodnight."

With that, there was a shifting noise — probably Edér turning away — and he fell silent.

Left to her work, Selene started writing a record of the house fire by the light of her hair. Once that was done, she did her best to extract points of interest from her own story, and listed them in a small neat column next to the broader account:

Multiple perpetrators

Windows were boarded up, fuel and kindling was used — time and preparation, premeditated

Likely multiple eyewitnesses, but no alarm was raised. Might be able to extract perpetrators' identity from witness memories

Working version: meant as a cover-up, not mob violence. Whose orders?

About midway through that list, the familiar all-encompassing noise of active minds started trickling back into her awareness, bringing an aray of distractions, but also palpable relief: it was good to have her most important sense back.

With it came the hum of restless thoughts from where Edér was supposed to be sleeping, betraying the fact that he was wide awake.

Reasoning that the way he spent his resting time was none of her business, Selene ignored the noise and moved on with her work. Still, she couldn't help but be aware of it: a buzz of anxiety just loud enough to be heard.

There was a feeling underlying it that wasn't quite pain, but something similar to dragging your hand through gravel; a sharpness that wouldn't let his thoughts rest.

Following an instinct, Selene closed her eyes for a moment and saw flashes of something: a grey, cold night from long ago, soldiers bundled up in their cloaks, resting their heads on their packs, trying to fall asleep. There had been word of Readcerans nearby.

The grip of a sabre in her — his — hand, the awareness of his shield within reach, not knowing whether it would do him any good if an ambush sprang on them while he was still asleep.

Selene opened her eyes, resurfacing, and exhaled slowly; she had held her breath during the vision.

She didn't mean to dive in; if she did, she'd be breaching her promise. But the thought seemed to find her, rather than the other way around; did that still count?

Either way, she now had an idea of what was keeping Edér awake.

A lingering echo of his thoughts told her that it wasn't a rare occurrence, and that normally he'd reach for his pipe and whiteleaf to lull his mind back into behaving.

It wouldn't be good for him to spend the rest of the night without rest. The healing would take better after some sleep, and, considering the circumstances, Selene needed him to be sharp tomorrow.

"Edér," she said quietly. "Are you awake?"

"Yeah." A shifting sound as he turned to face her. "Need something?"

Selene turned to him as well and found him sitting up, looking at her.

The cold white light of her hair picked out scars across his upper body. There were many, which made sense for a soldier: thin lines and jagged shapes, faded, but still visible. Something made her linger on that for a moment, wondering how many of those scars already existed by the time the night from the vision came around, and how many were acquired after.

Selene pushed the thought out of her mind. It didn't really matter; her thinking was probably just being affected by the memory she'd picked up.

She focused. She needed to tell Edér something.

"Since you're awake, I just wanted to say. Whoever set the fire will probably try again; from here on out, we'll only be getting closer to answers, and they'll only get more desperate to stop us. I'll be surprised if that's the last attempt we see on one of our lives. Yours more likely than mine, since Dunryd Row will have questions if I don't return."

Even before she finished speaking, she could feel Edér's anxiety stir — and yet outwardly, his expression had barely changed.

That was why she needed her telepathy.

"Should've said so sooner," he said. "Nothing lulls a guy to sleep like a promise of murder."

"Well, they will try. But they won't succeed, and they won't get as far as they have today, either. I'm not leaving you alone anymore, and when it happens, I'll be ready."

Edér raised an eyebrow:

"You'll be watching over me, is that what you're saying?"

"Yes," Selene said simply. "The harder they'll try to get rid of you, the harder I'll fight to keep you around."

Remembering their earlier conversation, she added:

"Not because any god told me to, but because it's the right thing to do. In fact, if a god spoke to me right now and told me not to, I'd do it anyway."

There was the tiniest thrill of dread in her stomach as she spoke the second sentence. She'd blasphemed many times in the past — against Ondra, and against other gods on occasion — and, as freeing as it felt, the very next emotion she felt was always the fear of retribution.

Still, Selene meant what she said. And no retribution came this time either, just like all the times before it; more proof that the gods probably couldn't care less.

Edér stared at her for a long moment; so long that her attention began to drift away, and had to be wrangled back into focus. She was probably getting tired too.

"You really mean it, don't you," he said. "You'd really do it."

Selene nodded.

In the light of her hair, she saw the corner of Edér's mouth twitch, and then he ran a hand over his face and shook his head, silent.

"Well," he said finally, "Guess the least I can do is pay it back. Whatever you need help with for this case, you can count on me. And I know you've got your cipher stuff and all kinds of training, but, for what it's worth, I'll be looking out for you too."

He was sincere, and Selene thought that it was only fair to respond with sincerity in turn.

"I need it more than you know," she said.

Edér nodded, a serious look on his face; the sound of his thoughts told her that he had noted her words.

She could feel things shifting in his mind, folding into patterns.

The gravelly feeling was gone. He'd sleep fine now; even if Edér himself couldn't tell yet, she could.

Selene tried to speak, and found herself yawning instead; just as well — her body was making the point with her.

Edér gave her a look.

"You still working on your agent stuff?"

"I'm just about done."

"Good. You'd better catch some sleep too."

It didn't take her long to figure out her bedding situation; the carpet in the room was thick and reasonably comfortable to lie down on, and Edér insisted she take the pillow from the bed, at least. Normally, her cloak would have made a great blanket, but it was still miserably damp, hanging from a hook on the wall; Selene had to make do with some of her spare clothes instead.

By the time she'd fully settled down, she could already hear Edér's thoughts slowing. He'd be asleep before she was.

Selene closed her eyes, and hoped that there was a decent amount of time left until dawn.

[bekolxeram]

"When the Boeing Gets Tough..."

Yes! I know! I can't believe they actually refer to Boeing by name. The show has to tread carefully. Airliners are designed to have multiple redundancies in case of a catastrophic system failure. Every single crucial flight system has a backup and a backup for the backup. It takes many different failures in a chain of events to bring down a modern airliner. The aviation world calls it the Swiss cheese model.

With the 8x03 title confirmed as Final Approach, it gives more weight to the S8 opening disaster being an emergency landing.

If the Airport 1975 theory is correct, as in a light aircraft crashing into a big airliner leaving the first officer dead and the captain blinded, leaving the unexperienced flight attendant/passenger attempting to land the aircraft with professional instructions, it would be pretty damaging to Boeing's reputation.

There is something called TCAS (Traffic collision avoidance system), required to be fitted to every airliner after the 80s. The air traffic controllers at major Californian airports also have a warning system at their disposal to separate potentially conflicting traffic. If the show just decides to ignore this crucial system for safety, I can't imagine Boeing being happy about it. It's been dealing with bad PR since the 2 MCAS crashes, then the door plug blowout and lately the Starliner stranding 2 astronauts in space for longer than expected.

People have been mocking Airport 1975 for being unrealistic, because the head-on collision with the light aircraft somehow only tore a small human size hole in the cockpit without damaging the rest of the 747 too much. I can think of something in the modern days that actually makes such a precise but catastrophic damage?

A drone, trying to get the best aerial shots for a hit TV show about firefighters.

TCAS scans the surrounding airspace for transponders, which every aircraft flying near the busy SoCal airspace has to be equipped with, but not drones.

It's a super wild guess, but I just think it would be interesting for Bobby's story, accidentally putting his wife in danger again through indirect action, but this time he gets to save her.

Also, as I mentioned before, this is an Airbus.

I don't know why they're referencing Boeing here, but I did see this blurry shot of a Boeing aircraft in the background here, in one of the bts photos:

So I don't know, does this emergency involve 2 different airplanes? Is the Airbus crashing into the Boeing? Is the Boeing trying to stop the Airbus or vice versa? I have zero ideas.

I can't wait to be wrong with all of you.

[lawnchairthethird]

WIP Wednesday

The clock read 3 AM. Just as she feared, she’d been stuck in this loop of anxiety for hours. She quietly left the bad, too restless to stay still any longer. Her t-shirt was still on, and she quickly found her discarded pajama bottoms on the floor and pulled them on. Once she established that Vegeta was still breathing, she quietly turned the doorknob and went to the living room. 

Bulma hoped to see Winter in the living room, as she desperately craved companionship, but the lights were all off, and the couch was empty. She wondered if Winter had fallen asleep in Raditz’s room. If she couldn’t have some social interaction, a cigarette would be the next best thing. On the back porch, she collapsed into a chair as she lit a cigarette. With the first drag, she felt a rush of calmness wash over her. Hopefully, it would last long enough for her to fall asleep. 

The cigarette was gone too soon, but she decided against lighting another one. Surviving multiple attempts on her life made her question her own unhealthy choices. She put out the butt and stood up with a stretch. Right as her hand reached for the door, the sound of a breaking branch and rustling leaves resonated from the woods. 

“Fuck this,” she whispered to herself, unsure if she was scared or just absolutely fucking done with it all. 

Before she could find out, she sprinted into the house, slamming and locking the door behind her. She leaned against the cold refrigerator, taking a moment to regulate her breathing. Rationally, she knew it was probably just some kind of animal in the woods. That was more likely in any case, but especially because there was no one left alive who would be out to get her. Shaking off the fear, she returned to the bedroom and crawled into bed beside Vegeta, desperate for at least a few hours of sleep. 

[rosakuma]

DRDT EP 14 Thoughts(spoilers of course 😋)

I’m about to go insane

Okay for starters…..I’d like to apologize to the Hu nation and the Eden!cultprit truthers. To be fair, she was very sus before we clarified Nico’s murder attempt. To which damn Nico, I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt only because it was strange how you held that wire, but it makes sense now knowing the reason. Man I feel awful for a lot of people here in this episode. Nico regrets trying to kill Ace even if they dislike him because he reminded them of the people who hurt Nico before(peers, teachers, and their father OOF). And now they gotta live with having “Almost murder” stuck to their name while also losing a potential friendship with Rose(we NicoRose shippers lost dang it). Poor Rose feeling guilty of her memory being out of shape(the poor girl is traumatized by remembering the clear deaths, I don’t blame her) and getting blames for it. But thank goodness my goat/best girl Teruko with some good old character development came in and reassured Rose that she is useful and it’s not her fault(Us TerukoXRoss shippers fricken WON!). David while still being an ass that I hate(albeit now feel more sympathetic towards) I feel bad for witnessing Arei’s body first….god no wonder why he’s so mad at the killer, I’m pissed at them too. And then there’s Ace….this episode turn me into the 1# Ace Markey defender. My poor man has been suffering this chapter and things keep getting worse for him. He pushes everyone away thanks to his paranoia, has a eating disorder no one notices which is hurting him, was ALMOST MURDERED with no one worried about him(hell Hu fricken defended his potential murder rather than reprimanding them!), and worse of all, the one person he thought who cared about him in this terrible place admitted he doesn’t care if he lives or dies….oh and now he’s being accused of killing Arei. F*ck Ace’s life is so tragic. Oh yeah speaking of the killer. EDEN HOW DARE YOU, I BELIEVED IN YOU!! She is 100% the murder and it makes me so sad and sick seeing how well she’s able to make Teruko take her side. She even hugged her like Min did(I am going to be sick). I will say, Arei would respect the hustle and manipulation though. Well done Eden, you impressed your would’ve been bestie. I might make another post about why Ace can’t be the killer unless someone beats me to it, but yeah it’s Eden. No way Ace is the killer and it sucks how David despite revealing his true colors is still able to manipulate everyone(bro gonna out do Kokichi Ouma man).

[aurinavenir]

Hi there<3 I have a question. I want to try writing, but I know it will suck so I don’t know how to start. I just want to finish a short story about anything. How do I start without giving up immediately?

Hi there! I'm always happy to answer questions! I have three suggestions based on my own experience that might be helpful: 1) On getting started: When I was around ten, my grandmother (a passionate writer and poet) encouraged me to write every day after I told her I wanted to write stories like the ones I loved reading but didn’t know where to start. She suggested starting small—maybe writing a hundred words on the computer or filling half an A4 page each day. The idea was to gradually increase the goal over time. If I wrote more, fantastic! If not, I still hit my target. The important thing was having something written down, and those little goals quickly started adding up. She always said, "success breeds success," and seeing my progress made me want to keep going! 2) On worrying about 'bad writing': First, It’s completely normal for your first attempt at something new not to be your best work—everyone starts somewhere. That’s what practice is for! No one’s first attempt at anything is going to be perfect, and that’s okay. Writing can be a fun and rewarding skill to practice, the important thing to remember is: don’t give up! Second, Jodi Picoult said: “You can always edit a bad page. You can't edit a blank page.” If you look at what you’ve written and think, "this isn’t great," don’t worry! Every writer feels that way about their first drafts in some way, shape or form. That’s what editing is for. The key is to get the basics down, no matter how simple, and then go back and refine it when you’re ready. There's something incredibly satisfying about looking back at your old work/drafts and seeing how much progress you've made! At the end of the day writing is all about rewriting—final pieces are simply the result of revising over and over, not something that was perfect from the start. 3) A writing tip that helps me maintain momentum: Try ending your writing session by leaving a sentence unfinished (though have an idea of how it ends). It might sound odd, but this technique worked for Ernest Hemingway, and it works for me too! I find it much easier to pick up where I left off because the unfinished sentence creates a natural momentum, making it easier to dive back in and continue. I hope these suggestions are helpful! Of course, these are just based on my own experiences, so feel free to take what works for you and leave the rest. I'm sure you have some amazing stories in you that are waiting to be told, and it would be a shame not to put them on paper! Give writing a shot and stick with it—you might just surprise yourself! Happy writing! :)

[icestarphoenix]

Aran Ryan Headcanons

Aran Ryan doesn’t think he’s any good with magic and sees himself as just particularly lucky. However, he is actually unconsciously using magic to subtly alter reality around him to his favor. He just believes he has the “Luck of the Irish” on his side. As such, Aran is extremely superstitious since he views the effects of his magic as just luck. 

If he says to you “good luck”, he actually wants you to fail and is trying to jinx you. “Break a leg” is how he actually wishes luck.

Even if he can get up earlier, Aran will always try to get up at the count of seven.

When he punches with loaded gloves, he does his best to not turn the horseshoes upside down when possible.

Every little thing can be an omen to him. Glass Joe was KO’d during round two rather than round one? Today’s his lucky day! A cloud in the sky is shaped weirdly? Aran needs to be careful of his surroundings. To other people, what signals good and bad luck seem completely arbitrary.

Aran was born and raised by the sea, with his father being a fisherman and his mother a fishwife. He even worked on the docks ever since he was a lil’ lad. 

He knows his way around knots and even snuck a monkey’s fist into his flail among other things.

While Aran's built quite some strength from working at the docks, his little sister built quite the silver tongue from helping her mother at the fish market. She could cheat the devil himself using just her words. Ever the swindler, that clever lil' lass.

He tends to give nicknames to people he likes. For example, Soda is “Pops”. Macho Man is “Machie”. Sandman is “Sandy”, but that’s prevalent among other boxers too. Though, Aran also uses nicknames just to annoy people. Von Kaiser is especially incensed by “Ol’ Geezer”.

He may be woefully below weight class compared to the other World Circuit boxers, but Aran makes up for it with his excellent fight IQ. Despite his external wild and spastic behavior, he is internally quite analytical when it comes to combat. Aran’s just beaten out in the raw power department.

Aran’s hands are constantly wrapped in bandages due to his penchant for punching with metal horseshoes. He’s gotten better at avoiding bruised and broken knuckles, but it still happens with how erratically he fights. The other boxers don’t remember what Aran’s palms look like.

When boxing, he wraps his hands with tape in addition to bandages to cushion his hands. Now gotta add improper hand wrapping to the infractions list.

The reason why Aran is still in the WVBA despite being a blatant and frequent cheater is because viewership skyrockets when his matches are broadcasted. Most people want to see him get his comeuppance, so they tune in. A small portion of the audience watches to see what kind of new tricks he will pull. Aran Ryan is the heel and he knows it, and he doesn’t care. He’s good at entertaining the crowd and giving them a villain they love to hate.

Wii Aran and SPO Aran are the same person to me. He was a rule-abiding boxer back in the SPO days, but quickly got bored of fighting fairly when all his competitors were cheating with their unique gimmicks. So, Aran gave cheating a try one day and never went back. He was already good at boxing, as such it became wayyyyy more fun to think of new ways to cheat and see how much the WVBA will tolerate.

This has also made him much more popular (or infamous) in the eyes of the audience. No one really noticed him before.

He doesn’t even see his fair-fighting past self and cheating current self as the same person anymore. He gets visibly annoyed when people bring up “that bloke from Branch B”. That Aran was dead the moment he threw his first punch with loaded gloves.

He made his progress up the ranks and into the World Circuit when he still fought fairly. Ever since he started cheating, Aran hasn’t really tried to keep moving up in rank and just defends his place. Part of it is that he has way too much fun continuously stomping on Don Flamenco’s pathetic attempts to take his spot.

[whoblewboobear]

Jace was totally a Hudol kid right?

He failed wizardry 101 three years in a row, he probably hooked up with your crush, ​he was voted most likely to be arrested on account of all the pranks he pulled around campus. He smokes cigarettes in the parking lot. He’s at the top of his sorcery classes and his name is on everyone’s lips, he’s Jace Stardiamond and if you don’t know him, then maybe you’re just not cool enough to.

By the time he’s a junior, everyone has an idea of who he is but when he’s alone with himself, he has a hard time deciding if he knows who he is. Every moment of his life he’s been told the whos, whats and whys and he feels trapped inside of the labels and high standards so he takes comfort in the unknown.

For once he finally feels in tune with his magic. He doesn’t need to know where it comes from when it comes to him as easy as breathing. He still has such a keen eye for it, though. He approaches sorcery with such a precision and resolve that leaves people in awe of him, the attention doesn’t hurt either.

He always admired that quality in the wizards surrounding him, there’s no reason he can’t borrow that kind of self discipline for himself if it leads to better self discovery.

Still, he can’t take the way his old wizardry textbooks mock him from where they live on his bookshelf. He finds a home for them far at the top of his closet and doesn’t look back.

-

Is2g the way he told Adaine he couldn’t take a level of wizard, “I tried.” And then him saying he always thought wizards were a bit stinky has haunted me since the finale aired. That man has a deep vendetta associated with wizardry, you just know it. That shit haunts him.

[lynxfrost13]

Do you guys think Holt and Storch Sieben ever hatefucked

[strawberryteabunny]

for the lolita fashion ask: 1, 11, 19 💗

Thank you for the asks!! ૮꒰ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ꒱ྀིა

1: how and when did you first get introduced to the fashion?

I don’t know how I first learned lolita existed- probably through anime tbh- but I remember getting into it through 2 things; I was browsing Pinterest for historical costuming ideas and I kept seeing these Rococo and Victorian dresses, except they were super short for ballgowns which really confused me (I didn’t figure out that they were lolita but I thought they were so pretty) and second- I saw a girl wearing lolita on my college campus! I wore casual jfashion at the time (Liz Lisa, etc) but even though I knew what lolita was it felt super out of reach and like something only girls in Japan could wear. But there she was, in real life! It was a magical moment. I wish I could remember what exactly she was wearing or that I’d gotten a chance to meet her again but she completely changed my life! I put two and two together and realized I could wear these Victorian-esque dresses myself 🥰

11: what's one item you have that you would never sell?

This is tough, I have a lot of things I really love… I think probably my IW Renoir OP though. It’s definitely the dress I wear the most (it layers really well with like half my closet too..) and unlike a lot of other pieces I love I wouldn’t be able to sell it for a lot of money either.

Like, I would never want to sell my usakumya or my Milky Chan JSK but if I was in a bind financially they could be worth a couple hundred dollars each so if I had to it would make the most sense yknow?

I’d never want to sell my parasol either as it was a gift from my mom <3 and I have a couple vintage Gunne Sax pieces I’d never sell because with how popular the brand has gotten I’d never be able to replace them 😅 and I wear my Gunne blouses constantly too…

19: do you remember the first dress you ever saw? do you still like it?

Angelic Pretty’s Pompadour OP! I remember coming across it and not even realizing it was lolita, just thinking ‘huh someone made a version of Mme de Pompadour’s gown but they cut it so short, I wonder why’ haha. I’d love to own this dress! I’m a huge fan of the original painting and I think the color combo and design is so pretty. It would be a really nice convention/fancy tea party piece.