#coffee input costs

[farmerstrend]

Major Causes on the Decline of Kenya’s Coffee Production: Causes and Solutions

Explore the decline in Kenya’s coffee production, the role of weak governance in cooperative societies, and the government’s strategic reforms to rejuvenate the industry. Uncover the key challenges affecting Kenya’s coffee sector, from high input costs to delayed payments, and the reforms aimed at revitalizing cooperatives and empowering farmers. Learn about the Coffee Bill 2024, the…

[fanfictionstuff]

Can I please request Reader going on a first date with Yukio?? Finally someone that writes for ANE!! I'm so happy to have find you ❤ thank you!! ❤❤❤

Hi! Is this okay? It's my first time writing for Yukio 😅

You face the mirror, anxiously fixing your hair as you consider which outfit suits your date with Yukio. You’re weighing two choices. Is this dress too much? Normally, you’d reach out to your friend for input, but you can picture her teasing you, and you’re just not in the mood for that. 

Excitement bubbles inside you; you want to spoil this moment. After your first encounter with him, you developed a crush, just like every other girl in your grade. Now that he’s finally asked you out, it still feels surreal. Just as you’re about to resolve it with eeny meeny miny moe, you choose the dress. 

The walk to the cafe is a strange mix of feeling like it takes forever yet arriving way too soon. Am I too early? You glance at your watch and see that, indeed, twenty minutes might be too soon. But since it’s a cafe, you can grab a seat. If he asks, you can just say you haven’t waited long. It’s your fault for arriving this early. As the bell jingles when the door swings open, the scent of freshly brewed coffee blends with that of pastries. “_____? Oh, you’re here early," Yukio calls from a booth at the back. “How are you?”  

“You’re early too. How long have you been here?” 

“I've only just arrived." The barista raises an eyebrow, likely thinking that arriving fifteen minutes ago doesn’t really qualify as just getting here. 

You quickly approach the table and sit in the booth across from Yukio as he stands. “What would you like?” he motions toward the bar. 

“Oh, it's fine. I can buy my own.”

“No, I invited you out. Let me take care of it. What would you like?”

“A latte.”

“Do you want a sandwich? It’s nearly lunchtime.” 

“No, that’s fine," you reply, wanting to make sure he doesn’t overspend. After all, you can easily whip up something at home without the extra cost.

Yukio acknowledges your request and heads to the bar to place the orders. Moments later, he comes back with two plates, a friendly smile on his face. “I bought you this panini. I remembered that you like it.” 

He remembers what I like? You smile gratefully at Yukio, touched by his kindness. As he sets the plates down, a warm flutter fills your chest, appreciating his considerate gesture. Him knowing what you prefer really shows how much he pays attention to you. Never mind the fact that you’ve had lunch with him, Rin, and sometimes other friends, so it would probably be odd if he hadn’t noticed. 

"Thanks, Yukio. That's very kind of you," you reply, feeling a slight flush on your cheeks at his thoughtful gesture. 

Yukio smiles at you, leading to a comfortable conversation. “I can’t believe you’re top of our class while also managing so much work as an exorcist." You exhale and take a bite of your panini. “Honestly, I'm struggling to stay on top of my schoolwork.” Yukio raises an eyebrow, surprised. “I thought you were performing well in class. Would you like some additional help?”

Your eyes grow wide. “No, no, you have more than enough on your plate. I’m doing alright, but honestly, it’s a bit stressful trying to keep up with everything. You’re incredible, Yukio.” Oh no, why did I mention that? I really hope he doesn’t think I’m a terrible student now. If he weren't sitting across from you, you’d just bury your head on the table.

Yukio bows his head, trying to hide his blush. “I’m truly not, but thank you _____.”

After your conversation, Yukio kindly offers to walk you back to your dorm. “Thank you, I appreciate it," you respond, smiling widely as he holds the café door open for you.

"I had an amazing time today," you say with a smile as you both reach your dorm building.

"Me too," Yukio replies with a soft smile. "Maybe we can go out again sometime.” 

Judging by the confusion on Yukio's face, you probably look a bit more surprised than you intended. “No! I mean, yes, I’d really love that.” 

A strange silence envelops you as you look at Yukio, who appears to be worried about something. You don’t notice that he is scanning the area to ensure none of his fans are nearby.

“Can I kiss you?” 

“Huh?” 

“Oh! I’m sorry.” He bows. “Sorry, if it’s too soon-” 

“No! It’s not too soon. I mean, uh, yes, you can kiss me.” You fight back the urge to face-palm. Yukio gently cups your left cheek and leans in for a brief, sweet kiss on your lips. “I’ll see you later. Maybe tomorrow?” he asks, filled with hope. "Yeah, of course.” In a bold moment, you lean forward and press your lips against his for another quick kiss. “Okay, you can text me later about when you want to meet tomorrow. Thanks again, Yukio.”

As the door closes, you gasp in disbelief. You just kissed Yukio, and he wants to meet you again. Raising your hands, you try to hide your blushing cheeks.

Yukio stands silently for a moment outside your dorm until someone calls out to him. “Aw, was that my little brother’s first kiss?” 

“Rin!” 

[hexgaywire]

"Wedding (Photographer) Crasher"

Hex Haywire × Reader Wedding Photographer AU

»»————-　☾　————-««

Rating: Explicit

Gender: Gender neutral until Smut hits, then it's Female (you can still read it but during smut reader has a vag sorry 🧍🏻‍♂️)

Warnings: OOC Hex, Swearing, implied mentions of stalking (but not really), drinking, unprotected seggs, biting mentions, other then that it's pretty vanilla, slow burn 🗣️, happy ending 🫰

Word count: 9,364 (JESUS)

Guide to read this: "chapter will be separated with a "-" and a gap. Smut will not be marked so please be warned.

A/N: Ladies, gentleman, theys, WE FUCKING DID IT. It's a long read but honestly, and I'm biased, a good read. Thank you to @mystaposts for giving me ideas and input and genuinely letting me keep track of my progress while I write. Love you mwah. I genuinely have never written something this long and it's been a journey. I've also never written and AU this obscure before. I started this on vacation and then finished it a month after I got back LMFAO. Anyway please enjoy!

You can also read this on AO3 if you prefer that format better here

»»————-　☾　————-««

It's your friend's wedding, you're a photographer, she's having a destination wedding; how could you say no! You arrived in Mexico, struggled through customs with your broken Spanish and got to your hotel with nothing but coffee and sheer willpower alone. You text the wedding coordinator and she tells you you'll be meeting with her and the... other photographer ,which you are just NOW finding out about, at the venue to set up. You've shot weddings before; loads of times actually, it's actually one of your favorite events to photograph. You don't work for a company for a reason, you hate other people ruining your creative vision, plus once you're in the zone you hate being interrupted. Your friend left that detail out that you'd be working with.. another photographer.

You take a deep sigh, you really can't complain. It's her wedding day, you got free accommodations in exchange for taking some photos. You really can't complain. The hotel was gorgeous. It had a nice view of the city despite only being on the 3rd floor. You change and pack a bag full of all the equipment you don't wanna be taking to the venue the actual day of the ceremony and a few tripods and head off to go meet this mystery photographer you'll be working with for the weekend.

Lucky for you the venue was only a short stroll away from your accommodations. The venue vastly understated on how gorgeous it was, decked out in beautiful flowers and extravagant decor which went beautifully with the Spanish inspired build of the place, it had two staircases and a little inside balcony overlooking the venue (perfect place to shoot) which eventually led out to a huge outside balcony looking over the ocean. You pause to wonder how much this must've cost but quickly forget about it when another man walks in looking just as in awe as you probably did. He was tall, dressed in all black, messy steel colored hair, some black dispersed in different parts of his hair and the most gorgeous green eyes that peered out at you over a pair of glasses. He stares at you and before he can open his mouth the wedding coordinator runs in.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, there was a cake mishap, it's all handled now but let me tell you I'm-" she pauses and clears her throat. "Apologizes... I see you two have at least seen each other. Y/N, Hex Haywire. Hex, This is Y/N." You glance at Hex again as he glances back at you. "I thought I'd be working alone." You respond flatly. Hex scoffs. " Me too, I wasn't told I'd be working with a rookie." Your jaw must drop to the floor because Hex gives a sly smile. "I'm a friend of the bride thank you, and also own my own photography business." You grit your teeth. "Friend of the groom. Also own my own business." He shrugs and produces a business card from his pocket holding it to your face. You roll your eyes and before you quip back on a 'my dick is bigger than your dick' contest the coordinator jumps into the conversation.

"Ehm let's get back to discussing when I'll need you." She glares at you. "Both of you." She continues. "Tomorrow we need you here early to take photos of the finished venue. There are still a lot of little details we have to get done tonight and tomorrow morning but regardless it should be more flushed out tomorrow. After that the bride and groom will get ready and respectively you'll be taking photos of the getting ready process. Then the first look both the bride and groom specifically asked for to get photographed so please be on your A game for that. Then the ceremony takes place, you'll be taking photos there during the ceremony as well as the after party. The bride also requested before the ceremony so you can take photos of the family, all the bridesmaids and groomsmen. Do you understand what's being asked of you?" The both of you nod. " Great! Feel free to get familiar with the venue, discuss how you'll be conducting the process... Civilly… please… ." The coordinator sighs before setting off to continue her duties.

You sigh, setting some of your equipment in the corner. Grabbing your camera from your bag you glance around to figure out where you're going first. Hex follows suit and the two of you stare at each for a moment. What the fuck was the bride thinking. This guy is a total dick, sure you don't know him but the vibe he gives off.. you can't quite place it but you just wanna rub his face in the dirt. So you resort to something a bit more sinister. Lying. "Honestly I don't know what the bride was thinking about getting both of us, I can handle all of this by myself. I don't work with other photographers because it makes the editing process so much worse because you walk into my shot and I have to Photoshop you out-" " I won't, I'm not an idiot." He cuts in. " I don't like other people fucking with my business either." He folds his arms. "If anyone is getting in anyone's shit it's gonna be you for sure Rookie." He states flatly before turning heel to go scout the venue. You glare and consider lying and telling your friend your flight got canceled. But you're in too deep, and she bought your flight… you're not getting out of this one easily.

"Aren't you gonna survey the area?" Hex calls down from the inside balcony. "What is your problem? I went to school for photography and have a degree. I'm not a rookie, and I'd advise you to keep your remarks to yourself." You call up before grabbing your camera from your bag to take some test shots. “Whatever you say, Rookie." Hex scoffs and before you can retort you find a good spot to test shot. You can't let some dude get in the way of your work.

-

A few hours pass, and you think you've mapped out a pattern that'll work best. You also found spots where photographers definitely had their tripods so you had a location for those as well. Hex has also been working diligently. He may be a dick but he's a dick who knows what he's doing at least. You can give credit where it's due even if you aren't thrilled about it. He seems to have also made peace with where he is gonna shoot. The two of you both head back to the equipment you set out and The coordinator meets you both outside on your way out. "I'll see you both here tomorrow morning! Thank you for your cooperation." You smile and begin your trek back to the hotel... But Hex is following you.

You knew it he had to be a fucking weirdo or something. After a couple minutes where it's no longer deemed a coincidence you turn around. " Do you have a fucking problem? " You ask sharply. " He looks a little taken back. "Sorry?" He looks around. "Are you talking to me?" You sigh exasperated. "Yes you, you're following and have been for the last several minutes. I knew something was off about you stalker." He laughs, your frown deepens. " This isn't funny, I don't know you and the fact that you're tailing the competition is honestly a little fucked." " What hotel are you staying at? " He asks. " I'm not telling you that. Again I don't know if you're following me or no-" " You're an actual idiot you know that? The bride and groom probably put us in the same hotel. You got your room and flight paid for by them right? " He asks with a sly smile. You wanna crawl into a hole and die. " Yep. No, that makes sense. I'm sorry I... Competition makes me kinda nasty. That was a strong accusation I was making." You laugh uncomfortably. He walks past you. "Whatever rookie. See you tomorrow. Try not to wake up late and miss work." As he walks close to the hotel and turns into the lobby you grone to yourself. You really are an idiot.

You enter the hotel, but the growl of your stomach stops you before you can even make it to the elevator. Maybe getting dinner at the hotel's restaurant isn't such a bad idea, you didn't really have time to scope out restaurants before leaving so the hotel one seemed like the safest bet . You turn to enter the restaurant adjacent to the lobby. It's a Friday night... It's fucking slammed. All the tables full wait staff looked flustered and overwhelmed. Regardless, you walk up to the host stand. "Excuse me, how long is the wait for a table for one." The host looks through a computer system on the stand. "Probably about an hour, possibly more…. though if you'd like to sit at the bar I can seat you immediately!" She responds. You shrug, it's not like you're eating with someone anyway. "That's fine, I'll take the bar seat thank you." You smile and she leads you over to almost an empty bar.

The bartender serves a few drinks and finally makes it over to you and asks what you want. You shouldn't have to be up tomorrow. "I'll take a glass of Chardonnay and..." you look down at the appetizers. "Just a side salad if you can get me that." He smiles and goes off to retrieve your items. You sigh, putting your face into your hands. You can't believe you accidentally accused your temporary coworker of stalking you and implying he'd do something to sabotage you… You groan, though it's definitely muffled by your hands.

As you stue in your misery someone sits down next to you. "Tequila shots..." The man's deep voice pauses for a second. “Two please." Your head shoots up, you know that voice. Hex tosses a sideways smirk. "You'll take a shot with me won't you rookie?" Not wanting to be rude you nod. "I thought you went up." You said softly. "I was gonna get something to eat but I saw some sad person at the bar. Had to do a welfare check." He shrugs. You snort. "I'm not sad. Just tired today has been a journey." "You must be a rookie then, can't handle a of day surveying." You roll your eyes at his remark. "Maybe it's the person I was with that made it exhausting. Has anyone ever told you, you're kinda insufferable." He laughs. "Once or twice. The bartender comes back with your drinks and food. Hex holds up his shot to yours. “Cheers."

You and Hex talk for a long time and drink a little more than you should.... Or at least you do. You feel that familiar buzz in your body as you focus on what Hex is talking about. "Anyway long story short it's kind of the groom's fault I got into photography in the first place." He's a lot more chill when he isn't in a work environment, still pretentious but the way he holds himself in a conversation is almost attractive, in fact all of him is rather attractive. You won't deny you've been sneaking glances at him all night. "Life throws stuff at you fast and it's up to you how you choose to deal with it." He smiles at you and you instinctively look away. He chuckles slightly but doesn't comment on your sudden shyness thankfully.

"So do you just do wedding photography?" You shake your head. " Nah I got a degree remember, I do headshots, family portraits, pretty much everything.... Though my dream is to travel around the world and do photography. After the wedding I wanna spend a few days here traveling around taking photos of the scenery." You respond dreamily. "You've got some strong ambition. I admire that. I'm kind of in the same boat, but primarily I do weddings." His face softens a little. "I think there's something beautiful about capturing such a precious moment between two people so in love they devote their lives to each other." You nod in agreement. "There is something definitely magical about it all. Though I wouldn't take you for much of a romantic Hex.” He shakes his head chuckling. " Can you blame me? I'm a guy with layers! I'm allowed to be a hopeless romantic aren't I?” You shrug, you honestly can't blame him.

Another glass of wine is ordered and in your head alarm bells are going off. You've been talking with Hex all night, but now there's a lull in the conversation as you look out over the now near empty restaurant you realize how late it actually is.

"Have you ever been in love?" He asks suddenly, so suddenly you almost spit out your drink. "It's a little personal to ask your temporary coworker, don't you think?" You joke. He's silent. You chuckle awkwardly before going back to nurse your final drink. You don't know if there is alcohol or something in the air but the words start tumbling out of your mouth. "I have, I think. But only once. I.... Uh met him my junior year of highschool, we instantly clicked; Only problem is he lived across the country. Told me he didn't want anything serious when I eventually cracked and confessed in college. It crushed me for a while but eventually I got over it." You muse swirling your finger around the edge of your now empty wine glass. " After that I've been kind of lukewarm about dating, I miss it though.... dating I mean.... Having a crush, feeling your stomach erupt in butterflies. I'm not the kind of person people fall in love with I guess." So respond dejectedly. A bitter feeling swells in your stomach and your eyes gloss over for a second.

Hex opens his mouth to say something but you shut him down before he can. "What about you, ever been in love?" You ask quickly. " If I answered honestly, you have to too." You add. He sighs. "I have. Many times actually, guess it's the hopeless romantic thing. Nothing's ever really worked out though." He looks over at you with a small sympathetic smile. "Love might not be for me either."

"It's a shame. All that handsomeness is going to waste." You blurt out nonchalantly before you can even process the words coming out of your mouth. Too many glasses of wine for sure. His eyebrows shoot up, you can feel the heat rise to your face. You must be drunk there, no way those words came out of your mouth. "You think I'm handsome huh?" He smirks. Annnnd the pretentiousness is back. "I need a lawyer present before I utter anything else." You mumble embarrassed. He stares at you smugly as you fidget in your bar stool. "I uh think it's time for bed. It's definitely way late. We both have to be up early anyway so uhh goodnight." You push yourself out of the bar table and immediately the alcohol hits you hard and fast. You feel your body fall.

You expect to hit the ground, you squeeze your eyes closed and brace yourself. But you don't hit the ground. Instead Hex leaps up and catches you before you hit the ground. His chest is a lot more toned than you thought, his arms are strong around you and he's warm. You look up and he looks down at you. "You okay?" Your mouth opens and closes like a fish. You push him away and nod quickly. "Completely fine. Uh Thank you. I'll uh see you tomorrow!” You retreat with your tail between your legs mentally slapping yourself for speaking too much and drinking too much.

Arriving back to your room you shower and change. You do your skin care routine and brush your teeth. You can't believe you'd be an absolute nightmare like that. All you can do is go to bed and replay the scene in your head over and over.

-

You almost pass Hex in the lobby, you can't tell if you were subconscious trying to block him out or you were just nervous about the job but he grabs your arm and yanks you back with a smile. "Morning Rookie." You groan. "Morning…" Hex releases your arm and hands you a coffee. “You had a rough night I'm sure, I figured I'd extend an olive branch with this.” You stare at it for a moment, a mere delayed sleepy reaction, before taking it. "Thanks." You say take a sip cautiously. "I didn't poison you, if that's what you're worried about." He jokes. "That's exactly what someone who totally poisoned me would say." You laugh. He shakes his head with a chuckle. " Let's get moving, yeah? Big day today." He states playfully nudging your arm before adjusting his backpack holding the equipment. Your heart does a weird tug in your chest at the contact. You both exit the lobby and begin your walk to the venue.

You awake the next morning with a killer headache and for a brief moment before taking an ibuprofen, you forgot about the events of last night. It wasn't until halfway through your morning shower, when you were finally awake and no longer operating on autopilot, that all the events of last night came rushing back to you. You grumble to yourself how stupid that was, no longer needing to apply blush as you put on your makeup.

As you prepare your heavier equipment and get ready you soon remember that you're in fact actually shooting with the man you drunkenly fell all over last night…. Fuck… You shake off your nerves and head down stairs.

As you approach the venue you exchange small talk with Hex. Neither of you bring up what happened last night. As much as it bothers you, it also spares you the embarrassment of having to relive those events. You hate to admit it but you actually think Hex is a decent guy. Of course you'd never admit that to him, especially on the way to a work event where you know things will get dicey. For now you just enjoy sneaking glances at him while the two of you chat.

You didn't think the venue could look any more beautiful than it did yesterday, but man were you wrong. Orange, yellow and pink flowers scattered around various parts of the venue. Fairy lights line the aisle with petals already pre-scattered on the ground. The look on your face must've given it away how breathtaking it was to you because you hear Hex snicker. "What!? It's gorgeous... You can't deny that either." You frown, folding your arms. "It is. Your face just lit up like a Christmas tree, I dunno it was just… endearing I guess..." He clears his throat. "Anyway, we have a job to do. I have my spots picked out and I would hope you do too." You nod. "Perfect. We'll check in with the coordinator after we're done." You nod again as he turns to leave. "Yeah yeah. See you in a bit.... Hexy." You smirk. He whips back around and raises an eyebrow. "Hexy?" "What, the tall booding eboy never got a cute nickname before? Besides you call me 'rookie', I think it's fair we're even on playing fields." You flip your hair before grabbing your equipment and heading to your first shooting location.

While taking your final photos at the flower arch, the bride and groom arrive with their respective groups to get ready. You hear your friend audibly gasp as she enters the venue, you could pick her voice out in a police lineup for sure. You take a few more photos and meet up with her. "Hey you! Thank you again for doing this. I hope this hasn't been too um… annoying you." She flashes you a sympathetic smile. "Eh I've managed but we definitely are having a serious talk about keeping 'surprises' from me when you get home from your honeymoon." She erupts in laughter. " Fine fine. My fiance insisted on Hex and I insisted on you; so we came to a compromise." She sighs. "I hope the two of you are getting along at least. I've met Hex a handful of times and he seems like a nice guy." She nudges you. "He is. A bit pretentious but in an insufferably charming way... I guess." She smirks. " Charming huh? He is pretty cute." You roll your eyes. "Girl you're about to get married you can't be saying stuff like that." She laughs again as you jokingly smack her hand chastising her.

"Did I hear married? If so, not yet still a couple hours to go." The groom jokes as he approaches the two of you. Hex and the coordinator in tow right behind him. "There you are, I was just about to come find you." Your friend kisses her fiance. "It's nice to see you again Hex, I'm sure you've already been thanked but I'll do it again; thank you for doing this." Hex hums. "Not a problem. I'm just happy to capture the magic for the two of you." "Hex has already shown me some of the shots he's taken of the venue unedited and they're gorgeous. I'm excited for you to see them once they're all edited." The corridentor chimes in. "Now then, your makeup artist has arrived as well as your dress, so why don't you and Y/N head off to go get ready." You nod. "I'll see you in a bit, honey." Her fiance calls out as the two of you walk off to the dressing rooms.

The two of you talk as her and her bridesmaids get ready, you snap candied moments, which is after all what you're here to do. Somehow you get roped into the conversation that happened last night. "I don't know, I'm not saying I wouldn't be opposed...to be caught in his arms again. If only he wasn't such a prick you know?" You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Your friend laughs. "You always enjoyed a little bit of challenge though. Remember that asshole you dated right out of college?" "Ugh don't remind me. He was a real piece of work, we fought all the time but.... The sex was amazing and I think the only thing that kept us together for so long." You shake your head. "I guess I do have a type then. Men who get on my nerves." " Hon you definitely do, I'm glad I'm able to play therapist on my wedding day." She laughs.

The makeup artist steps back and you finally get the shot of your friend seeing herself for the first time. Tears well in her eyes. Click. You snap a photo. Just before the makeup artist chastises her. " Cry once you're down the aisle at least!" Your friend sniffles and smiles. Click. She turns around and all the bridesmaids and her mother ooo and awe at her. Her mom gives her a big hug. Click. She smiles at you. Click. You can't help but wonder in the back of your head how euphoric she must be feeling right now.

Once everyone had their fill of taking in the bride and all her glory, as she deserves, it was time for the first look.You meet back up with Hex, buzzing g with excitement. First looks are optional, not all couples do them, since it's considered bad luck to see the bride before the actual ceremony but recently it has been a trend to do first looks. "How was prep for the groom?" You ask. He smiles. "You mean letting the man get dressed and taking a few candids and then shooting the shit? It went great." You shove him and he laughs. "Bride's really pretty. I'm really happy for her. Her fiance isn't gonna know what hit him." You grin. " Are you getting soft on the job rookie?" Hex raises an eyebrow and you swat him again. " She's my friend, just this once I'm allowed to let business and work mesh this one time okay!" He shoves you this time and you both laugh. The corridentor clears her throat. The both of you immediately straighten out. " Happy to see the two of you getting along but as you've already gathered it's time to prepare for the first look." She turns to Hex. "Where's the best place for you to shoot in this area?" He points to a clearing in the hall and she nods. " Please go prepare yourself." The smile on your face wavers as Hex leaves. “As for you,” the coordinator continues. “I want you on bridesmaids and groomsmens photos. That way we aren't dragging people away from the after party to take individual pictures." " But-" "Please, Hex has this under control and will join you after the first look photos are finished." You want to protest. This is unfair. You had a really cute idea but I guess a photography degree means nothing these days. A selfish part of you, the hopeless romantic part, also wanted to see the first look. The special moments between the two before they're officially married. That selfish part of you wanting to see your long time friend and her soon to be husband light up at the sight of each other. I guess for now… You have your job to do.

You begrudgingly head off all of the flowers and fairy lights to take photos. You have to shake off your wants for a second. You're here to do a job. But why the fuck did the coordinator pick Hex- you're just as capable.

You're angry the more you think about Hex so you lock in. You get back into the zone instructing poses and filing different people in and out of shots. You're so in the zone you nearly jump 50 feet in the air as a tap on your shoulder startles you. "Woah you good?" Hex's stupid deep voice seeps into your brain. "Fine." You respond shortly before getting back to work. "Do you need any help?" "No Hex I don't. I've got this okay. I'm almost done anyway." He nods slowly. "Do you at least wanna take a short break? I can show you some raw shots of the first look. They turned out really cute, I think." Your jealousy rears its ugly head again and you glare at him "No! I don't care about your stupid photos okay. Please just go get set up for the ceremony." "Jesus Christ rookie, you don't have to bite my head off. Alright I'll see you later when you decide to play nice again." You admit you definitely lashed out at him a bit. Were you a bit jealous, absolutely, but taking it out on him after you guys finally became civil definitely wasn't the answer. You watch him walk away, you open your mouth to call out to him but the group of eyes waiting for their pictures to be taken stop you. You'll have to apologize later.

-

Guests start arriving shortly after you're done with your photos and you set up your location to shoot during the ceremony. Across the room Hex is setting up a tripod on one of the balconies to take automatic photos so he can be on the ground when the ceremony actually starts. You can't help but keep glances up at him. You feel awful about what happened. You go to set up your last tripod on the balcony to do the same thing he was planning to do. As you climb the stairs, he descends, you open your mouth again no words come out, he walks right past you. Doesn't even glance in your direction. Did you strike a cord? You were rude, sure, but you did mention you can be an ass. It still doesn't make it right but. Argh this is so stupid none of this would've happened if you had gotten to take those first look photos. You contemplate going after him explaining why you're upset and fixing this, but the pull of the job grapples you to continue.

You glance down over everyone chatting and finding their seats as you set your own camera on the tripod to automatic. There's something about a wedding that always makes you feel melancholy in the most gut wrenching way. Maybe it's the fact you've been single for so long now that a wedding seems unattainable. It's selfish but you can't help it. That familiar ach twists in your stomach. This one isn't jealous or butterflies, this one is just pure hurt.

You descend down the steps. You retrieve your bag to grab the camera you'll be using for the ceremony. Just as you're about to head to your shooting location you spy Hex. He's there chatting with a few of the other guests. One girl in particular catches your eye. You've seen her before somewhere on your friend's Instagram… She hugs Hex and is oddly touchy with him. He ruffled her hair affectionately before walking away. Your gut lurches again at the interaction but you ignore it. It's almost show time anyway pretty soon you won't have to worry about Hex Haywire, and this will be just a bittersweet memory.

The ceremony starts and you and Hex spring into action. The bridesmaids and groomsmen make the way down the aisle. Click. The groom makes his entrance. Click click. The flower girls toss beautiful petals down the aisle joining the ones already scattered. Click. The bride enters and is walked down the aisle. Click click. The groom almost cried. Click. The exchange vows. Click. Finally they kiss, everyone erupts in fanfare. Click click click.

The after party starts not long after. Your friend, freshly married and looking the happiest you've ever seen her, brings you a glass of champagne. “Thank you again for today. I owe both you and Hex my life." She hugs you. “I'm just happy I could help!” You smile. Before she can leave you catch her arm, pointing subtly at the girl Hex was talking to earlier. " Who's friend is that? Your's or your husband's?” She giggles. " I'm still not used to people referring to him as my husband.” She looks at the girl and immediately laughs. " That's my husband's younger sister! In turn; that's also Hex's honorary younger sibling." You must make a face of relief because she swats you. “Was someone a little jealous?He does dote on her quite a bit since he doesn't have any younger siblings." You frown. “No! A little… I don't know, okay..." You sigh and take a drink of your champagne. “Talk to him.... You both are extremely stubborn but extremely passionate. Plus…. Hex definitely keeps glancing at you when you aren't looking.” She says in a sing-song voice as she heads back out to join the party. You glance over and lock eyes with Hex, both of you left alone in the back part of the hall where the after party was being held.

He approaches after an uncomfortable amount of prolonged eye contact. "Hey.” He tosses you a lopsided smile. "Good work today.” He says patting your head softly. You want to relish in the praise but you have your own amendment to make. "I'm sorry… about being an ass earlier. I was jealous over something childish and got mad. " You sigh, hanging your head. Hex sighs. “I could tell.” “I'm really sorry. It's just first looks have always been special to me and the fact you got picked to do over me ignited something in me and I don't know. Then I saw you with the bride's sisters and I got even more up and-" Hex cuts off your sprailing. “Hey! Seriously, I forgive you. Don't worry about it. Okay?" He lifts your head with his hand, holding your chin in-between his fingers. “Besides….It's kinda cute. When you get all competitive and mad." He murmurs. You scrunch up your nose. "It's not cute. It's irritating for me and supposed to intimidate you.” He pulls you in a little closer with his other hand making contact with your lower back. " You're gonna have to work on that darling.” He quips. You stare into his eyes, almost get lost in them for a second. You then notice how close your faces are together, he smells good. You both lean in a little closer, eyes still locked. Hex glances at your lips and back at your eyes. You lean in even closer. You feel his breath tangle with yours. Your eyes flutter shut in anticipation- "Sorry to interrupt. I wanted to thank you both for your work today.” The coordinator's voice rings out and the two of you immediately put distance between each other.

“I wanted to let you know you're both released from duty. You can enjoy some well earned champagne if you'd like. But perhaps you'd like some time to yourselfs?" She raises a knowing eyebrow that causes you to laugh awkwardly. “I think we're both gonna turn in for the night. It's been a long day." Hex smiles at the coordinator and goes to pack up his stuff leaving you alone with her. “I should um... probably do that too…” you sputter out. The corridentor smiles, shaking her head as you shuffle off to go pack your things as well.

-

You and Hex both do your own version of an Irish goodbye and get separated in the process. Things were awkward now in your mind at least, you almost kissed him! Worst of all he almost kissed you back!? The tension was undeniably now. You muse to yourself as you stroll along with your backpack of equipment on your back and both hands carrying a tripod case.

You swear Hex must've been a ninja in his past life. He somehow got behind you again without you being none the wiser. “You know..” you nearly jump ten feet in the air this time. " It's really not safe to be unaware of your surroundings regardless of you being in a public space.” He ruffles your hair and as you set down one of your tripod cases down to fix your now ruffled hair he picks it for you wordlessly. "You really don't have to do that.” You reach out to grab it but he pivots his body so you can't. " Please let me.” he says quietly. " Fine…" you mumble back softly.

You're almost at your hotel. The two of you chatted about all the editing to be done and the notes you'll have to compare. “Does this mean we have a temporary truce between us again?" He asks, lifting a questioning eyebrow. “I suppose it does." you smirk, nudging him. That little bit of contact sparks something in you, something much deeper. You felt it, the bolt of electricity, the undeniably feeling you've been having, it all culminated in a very clear thought at last. Desire… You wanted Hex to kiss you, you wanted him to dote on you, you wanted to get more praise from him. He coughs awkwardly as you stare blankly. “So are you turning in for the night? It has been a long day." You shrug. "Maybe… I'm not super tired yet so I'll probably end up editing for a few hours.” You admit. "....I know you prefer to have your creative space to yourself, but would you want someone to edit with…? I mean I'll probably do the same on my own anyway to be honest so… yeah…” He smiles softly. The pitch seems innocent in nature but deep down you feel those butterflies in your stomach. "Yeah? How about you give me my tripod back thief, I'll go up to my room and shower and change, all that junk and then I can stop by your room?” He smiles nods and hands you the tripod sealing in your ‘editing date’.

As you round the corner of the street then through the entrance of the hotel, you both pile into the elevator with your equipment. “I'll see you in like thirty minutes?" Hex asks before the doors open on your floor. “Yeah sounds good! What room number?" You ask. “512! See ya there!" He smirks as the doors close. You hum happily as you go back to your room. You stop. Holy shit. You have a non-conventional date with a guy you hated like a day ago. You throw your equipment down, shove your SD card in your laptop to upload files and sprint to the shower.

You shower fairly quickly despite needing to freshen everything… just in case… You throw on something cute but still comfortable and throw on some light makeup. You took a lot of shots today so your SD card only had a bit more to upload. In the meantime you maule over every scenario that could play out tonight. You maule over not going at all, protecting your peace not getting attached, because as much as you wanted this you know how this ends. However the butterflies in your stomach protested and once your photos were done you grabbed your laptop and you headed over to Hex's hotel room. Mind whirling…

Your heart thumps as you step back into the elevator. You press the number 5 on the wall and feel the elevator lurch to life following suit with your stomach. The elevator reaches the top and you follow the signs to 512. You knock on the door lightly. You hear some shuffling inside before he opens the door. He looked a lot more disshovled, hair still slightly wet from his own shower no doubt, black T-shirt on… gray sweatpants… “Perfect timing! My photos from my main camera just finished. Anyway, come in!" He ushers you inside. “I know this isn't my house technically… but can I get you anything to drink; water, tea, shitty hotel coffee?” You laugh. " A tea sounds great if you don't mind.” You sit on the couch and take out your laptop as you hear Hex shuffle about in the kitchen area preparing the tea.

You open up your laptop and scroll through the photos starting to delete the off shots and the ones that were obviously unsalvageable. Hex sets a cup of tea down on the coaster and sits on the couch with his own laptop and starts to do the same. “How many raw shots do you have currently?" He asks. You immediately sigh. “Around 1300…” He sighs, shaking his head. " I'm also in the thousands. I always forget about the aftermath." He groans. You glance over at his computer screen and see some of the photo previews in the folder. One of them looks suspiciously like you are locked in, focused on taking photos. You're about to point it out but Hex turns his laptop away.

"I guess we should get started." He sighs. “Yeah unfortunately. At least it won't be lonely editing these. I have you to bug me the whole time." You smirk and give a teasing squeezing his knee. You don't realize how intimate the action is until after it happens. His eyes lock on yours. You almost regret it for a moment because he hesites, his eyebrows not together. You blink. The next second Hex's lips crash into yours. Your eyes flutter shut as you practically melt into the kiss. Your lips mingle for a short while, then he pulls back slowly resting his forehead on yours. “You are the most insufferable person I've ever met. You're also gorgeous and smart and witty… and I've wanted to kiss you from the moment I saw you.”

You're speechless for a second. Physically stunned. “Sorry I just-" Hex starts, but you kiss him again, just a quick peck to shut him up. “You're an enigma. I hope you know that. You're also insufferable but in a way that keeps me coming back for more… I dunno.” Hex smiles and tucks a stand of hair behind your ear. "Is this all because you thought I was handsome? Because I'm starting to get the feeling it might be.” He teases. You wack him lightly on the arm and he erupts in a fit of laughter. " You keep calling me out but you kissed me first, so dare I say you think I'm pretty-” "Of course I do, I thought I made it really obvious.” You pout. " You kept calling me rookie… is that what is obvious to you!? How was I supposed to know?" He laughs again. “Okay fine, what do you want me to call you.” You freeze. You have an opportunity to do several corny things here but you don't. "What do you want to call me?” You hurl back in his direction, you know where this is going but you need to know his boundaries now or die without knowing.

He sighs, setting his laptop on the table. “There's a lot of things I wanna call you." He starts. "Pretty, annoying, adorable, incredibly career driven… but most of all I think calling you darling would be really nice.” His hand snakes around your chin, anchoring towards him again. "What do you say… Darling?" He tests. “I… I really…" anyone could tell how flustered you are at this moment. But that sadistic part of Hex kind of liked watching you squirm and struggle to find your words. “I really like that. I think." You finally gasp out. A smirk takes over Hex's face as he grabs your laptop, setting it next to his on the table. He pats the couch beckoning you closer to him. “We'll edit in a bit." A lie, obviously, at this moment work is the last thing on your mind.

The second you scooch closer to him he scoops you up in his lap. You're a bit disoriented for a second but the second you realize the compromising position he put you in your brain fogs up. “Hi…” you whisper shyly. " Hi gorgeous.” He smiles before pulling you down to kiss him again. This kiss is different from the other two; it's deeper, needier. His tongue tangles with yours and you instinctively shift slightly in his lap, looping your arms around his neck. He continues to kiss you, eventually you feel his hands at your waist, toying with the fabric of your shirt. You part the kiss for a moment, glancing at him, giving him a nod. After all, consent is hot. A smirk plastered on his face he watches your expression as he runs his hands under the fabric of your shirt.You feel the heat rise from the tips of your toes all the way up to your face when his hands trail up your stomach to your chest. Your head falls on his shoulder to muffle the small noise that emanates from you as he softly cups your chest, squeezing gently as a test.

He tugs at your shirt and you take it off, top half exposed you feel a little self conscious and instinctively cover yourself. “Hey, it's okay. If you aren't comfortable we don't have too." Hex coos softly stroking your back. “Sorry it's…been awhile…” you mumble. He kisses your forehead. " Me too. We can go slow if that makes you more comfortable.” Why did he have to be so fucking understanding. "I can do slow.” You nod, almost as a gesture to assure yourself. You slowly unfurl your arms and bare yourself to him. Hex's hands land back on your chest slowly massaging your sensitive nipples. Your hands fists his shirt. “You're really responsive." He teases. " Shut up…” you flush. He places kisses along your neck slowly trailing down your clavicle, drifting towards your chest. Your grip on his shirt tightens as he slowly takes one of your nipples in his mouth, slowly toying with it. Your head falls back on his shoulder, you pepper soft kisses on his neck. Once he's satisfied with your nipples he releases them with a lewd pop.

He pulls back and takes off his own shirt. You can't help but stare for a second. He isn't ripped or anything, definitely has some well defined muscles. You cautiously move your hands feeling the soft skin of his lower abdomen. He lets out a low hum of approval. You shift again, you're still in his lap after all, you feel him hard underneath you. He looks at you. “Are you sure you wanna keep going?" He prods gently. “Please." You say, it comes out a lot more needier than you wanted it to. He chuckles darkly. “God I was hoping you still did."

With that he picks you up and carries you to the bed nearby, gently tossing you on it. “You definitely got a nicer bed than I did." You mumble. He leans in close to your ear. “Maybe you'll just have to sleep here tonight then." He playfully nips your ear, easing down your sweatpants. One your pants around your ankles, you do the rest and unceremoniously kick them off your legs. He goes for your panties next, kissing down your stomach. Your panties are tossed somewhere on the floor along with your sweatpants.

Hex takes a moment to stare down at you underneath him. You squirm under his gaze and a sly smile falls on his face. “You're so fuckin pretty." He whispers before parting your legs. “And really wet too apparently, all this is for me?" He teases. You open your mouth to reply something snarky but the words die in your throat and morph into a whine as he swipes his finger along your slit. With that firm confirmation you obviously (and embarrassingly) enjoyed that he continues to toy with your pussy. His fingers dances along your clit and you let out another guttural moan. “Need more." Your voice sounds foreign to you. He snickers, amused by your neediness. “Patients, what happened to slow?" “Fuck slow, your fingers feel really good." You pout. “Fine, you want more, I'll give you more." With that ominous statement he sticks two fingers in front of your mouth. " Suck.” He commands with a shit eating smirk plastered on his face. You obey obviously, slowly engulf his finger in your mouth sucking gently. You hear his voice hitch, this is doing something for him and as much as you want to tease him back your mouth is a little occupied.

Once he's satisfied with your work he removes your finger out of your mouth. Two fingers, now glistening with your spit, toy at your entrance. You squirm again, and Hex uses his other hand to hold your hips in place. Then gently he enters both of them into you at once, with your hips pinned all you can do is trash your head and pleasure. He slowly removed them and entered them again, setting a decent pace. He leans up to kiss you again. It's deep and sensual, you can practically taste the desire. His fingers hit that spot inside you and you mewel. “There, holy fuck right there." Hex takes the very obvious lead and continues to hit that spot. Your vision blurs and stars form behind your eyes, before you can get the words out you cum around his fingers.

Hex continues to help you ride out your orgasm; he slows his finger in and out of you, and once your eyes degloss he removes them, much to your disappointment. His eyes lock on to yours and he immediately inserts his cum covered fingers into his mouth. You shiver, not breaking eye contact he completely cleans his fingers. “Are you… still good to keep going darling?” He asks. You glance down at his pants, which now have an obvious tent from how hard he is. “Absolutely, I think it's your turn pretty boy." You tease and make grabby hands for his pants. He holds your wrist and pauses for a moment. “I don't think I can wait any longer…. If that's okay.” He admits sheepishly. "That's completely fine, but just know I have to get you back next time.” He begins to pull down his sweatpants with a raised eyebrow. " So there's a possibility of a next time huh?” You flush and turn your head. " Perhaps." He chuckles. “Hey I'll take it." You turn your head back towards him as he slides down his boxers. His cock springs free and… you saw the tent in his sweats, you registered it. But seeing his cock he's a lot bigger than you initially thought. Your mouth falls open and Hex laughs at you. “Do you like what you see? You can always take a picture if you want, since you are pretty good at that. " He teases. "If I weren't so turned on right now I'd slap you.” You joke and pull him down for another kiss, you feel his cock rub against your thigh and you feel the excitement swell in your stomach.

He pulls back and lines up with your entrance. " You ready, pretty girl?” You nod, biting your lip to brace yourself. He enters just the head of his dick in your entrance. He lets out a shaky breath continuing to slowly slide inside you. You grip the sheets, you knew he was gonna stretch you but you weren't expecting the sheering pain mixed with pleasure. Once he finally bottoms out inside you he moves his hands to your hips and rubs gently circles into the flesh there waiting for you to adjust. He leans down and peppers your faces with kisses cooing sweet nothings. After a bit of time you give an experimental buck of your hips, both of you moan in unison.

That ignites something in Hex, knowing you're adjusted he pulls almost all the way out of you and roughly snaps his hips back into you. You fist the best sheet underneath you to hang on to any shred of sanity you have left. He continues to rut in and out of you like a starved man. “Fuck you're so perfect, it's like your pussy was made for me." He whines, leaning his head on your shoulder and biting it. You are a mess, you don't know when tears started streaming down your face but they are and you can no longer form complete sentences, just broken ones with Hex's name thrown in. His pace quickens and that familiar feeling forms in your gut. “I'm close." You moan. “Me too, don't worry me too." He responded hastily. “Cum for me darling." He mumbles against your shoulder. After a particularly hard snap of his hips you do. The sheer euphoria that shoots through your body makes your head fuzzy. You tighten around Hex as you come, he thrusts become sloppy. “W.. where do you want it?" He frantically spits out. “Anywhere, I'm on the pill, don't worry." You respond on cloud nine. That was all it took and a moment later you feel his warm cum flood your pussy, he collapses on top of you.

The two of you stay like that for a moment basking in the afterglow of both of your orgasms. Eventually Hex boots back to life and slowly pulls out. You whine as he exits your very sensitive hole. “I'm gonna grab a wet washcloth and I'll be right back." He murmurs. You feel the warmth of his body on your leave as he goes to retrieve it. You don't move and continue to lay there, you hear Hex pad back over to the bed and then the warm washcloth hits you. He gently cleans you up and you thank him… you think, the words coming out of your mouth sound foreign to you. The bed dips and you hear the rustle of covers. You crack one eye open finally and you're met with Hex staring back at you. “Come here." He smiles, it's gooey and affectionate. You oblige using the rest of your strength to scoot back into his arms under the covers.

The two of you cuddle in silence for a while. It's peaceful. You're sleepy and the energy is zapped from you. “Thank you for letting me stay here tonight." You whisper. “You're warm, I'd be stupid to send you back to your own room." He jokes, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “We have to edit…” you groan, eyes shooting back open to the pair of laptops where this whole thing started. “You don't leave for another couple days, neither do I. It can wait, for now let's rest. I think we've earned it." So you do. You shut your eyes and snuggle into Hex's chest falling asleep almost instantly.

-

The next few days are great, Hex and you edit alternating from sleeping in his room and sleeping in your room, his bed is still better than yours. You learn more about him as a person. He's funny, smart, extremely witty, but still can be a pretentious jerk; though much less of one now. You also end up going to do some shooting around the area, just like you planned and Hex happily accompanies you taking some shots of his own.

The last night the two of you were together in Mexico, you finally asked the question. “So what happens when we go home?" You blurt out suddenly. Hex peers over at you from his laptop. “What do you mean?" You bit your lip anxiously. “I dunno… We've been spending a lot of time together and I like being around and… I guess this is me asking…what are we?” You want to crawl into a hole. You went into this knowing things would probably end here but after the last couple days, that feeling you had morphed into something far more dangerous, attachment. “What are we….” He repeats. " Well I guess that's something we both have to agree on.” He sets his laptop down and faces you. “What did you want us to be?" He asks. “At first when we met, I wanted nothing to do with you. Now that I know you and have spent some time with you…I guess I can say I've grown very fond of you.” You mumble. " I like you a lot, Hex.” He gets up walking over to you. " Listen, I echo that same sentiment. I thought you were some rookie who was just gonna get in my way. Now you're so much more than that and if you're open to it, I would love to continue exploring and expanding our relationship…. together.” He takes your hand and squeezes it gently. You enthusiastically nod. " I would like that a lot. Does that sorta make us a couple then?" You ask cautiously. “No idiot, I want nothing to do with you. Of course it makes us a couple." He rolls his eyes ruffling your hair.

You smile and he smiles back at you, with the sun sunsetting behind him. You can't help but think how lucky you are for hating to work with other people.

-Epilogue-

“3….2…..1….. you may turn and see each other now!” You turn around fist looks strange when you're the one doing them. Hex is dressed in a dark blue tux and looks as charming and strikingly handsome as he did the day you met him at your friend's wedding all those years ago. Tears well in his eyes as he gazes at you with such affection that makes your heart swell. “You're gorgeous, fuck you're so gorgeous." He runs over and hugs you, twirling you around. “Okay show off, I know you're doing this for the camera." You tease him.

Glancing at the poor wedding photographer who's had to put up with you and Hex micromanaging shots since your engagement photos. “I'm a lucky man, what can I say!" He shrugs. " I'm about to marry the love of my life in a few hours and the first man who got to see her in a wedding dress.” He boasts proudly. You laugh, because how couldn't you. Your soon to be husband is just as pretentious as the day you met him, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

»»————-　☾　————-««

[symphonic-scream]

Okay hear me out

Persona 5 Stardew Valley au

So we've got the animal seller, Haru, who's parents divorced when she was young. She spent her teen years in the city with her father, but once an adult she decided to live with her mom, and has fallen in love with country life

Makoto has lived in town her whole life. Her older sister left to have a fancy city job, and thinks Makoto is wasting her talents and smarts by staying to keep up the family tradition. Makoto knows someone has to protect the town, and gladly draws her sword to do so. She trains by cutting down trees for the local artist and for town projects

Ryuji is a former golden child. He was going to be a star athlete, but an accident took it from him. He's not really doing anything at the moment, just working on loving life again. His Ma is the bus driver

Shiho moved to town after a similar incident to Ryuji, only she puts all she is into work, to have a place so when they're adults, her girlfriend can leave her family behind so they can be together. She only recently took over the carpentry business from her mentor, and her girlfriend Ann helped expand the business to include furniture and house decor, with design input

The pub in town in Leblanc. While the owner, Sojiro, specializes in coffee, he'll accept local foods to make dishes by request of the townspeople. His daughter Futaba is a recovering shut in, and his wife Wakaba runs the town clinic, with her med student Tae

Yusuke appeared one day, having sold all he had to find a font of inspiration. He fell for the valley, and at first lived in a tent near the mountain. Makoto, who nearly mistook him for a monster, invited him to stay on her family's property. He mostly paints, but does sculptures for order from the nearby city to pay his share of living costs

The town blacksmith is named Munehisa Iwai. He's the broody type, but cares for his son a whole lot. He's just, not good at showing it. He often requests things his kid would like

The town store used to belong to an older man, but he passed it on to a wayward boy and his younger brother, both whom he met by chance. The boys, then in foster care, lived with him until he became too old and ill go run the store. Akira and young Morgana still keep the Velvet Room running, even if old man Igor is living in Hospice

And, the mayor, Lavenza. She's very new to the position, which used to be Igor's. She's hoping to improve the town a lot, and is caring for her younger twin sisters

A strange man lives on the beach, with a strange talent for fishing. Goro doesn't talk about who he was before he moved there. It's behind him.

The library is run by Hifumi, who wants to reopen the museum portion after her parents sold the artifacts to keep it from closing. Hifumi thinks a museum would inspire tourists to donate,

And, finally, our farmer.

Sumire feels lost. Her sister died, her parents can't speak to her without crying, and she feels, trapped, so she impulsively quits her profession. She finds a letter from her grandfather, with the deed to a farm. Needing a reset, she leaves the city and life behind to live in a small town in the valley, where no one knows her, or her sister.

To clear things up, Makoto and Ryuji both grew up in town, have been friends the whole time. Futaba has been in town since she was 6, Hifumi was born there, and Akira and Morgana have been there since they were 14 and 6, now about 21 and 13. Shiho and Ann were in Ryuji's class at school, since they had to travel to a nearby city for school. Haru moved there when she was 18, Yusuke and Goro appeared around 19-20.

Anyways. Talk to me about this

(I'm open to any ships for it pretty much, but I will say I have Okujima in it.)

[rada-76]

Clock in fin-15. Who complements whom

(Перевод на русский в конце поста/Translation into Russian at the end of the post)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

There are many symbolic objects in season 2.

Let me remind you that in the final scene behind Crowley we see a clock. The hour hand points to 9 o'clock, and the minute hand to 25 minutes.

9 o'clock is three quarters of 12 o'clock, a round dial.

25 minutes is a quarter of 100, a round number.

This is a symbol of the fact that in the finale there was a mismatch in the Azicrow codes, and they did not understand each other.

In general, the burning question is which of the Azicrow is "three quarters" and which is "a quarter". I think there is a sexual subtext here. The question is as relevant and debatable as which of them is a big spoon and which is a small one. At first I thought that this was not specified in the series, and they did the right thing. But maybe the answer will be found?

I've seen quarters mentioned in the cost of purchases in the series, but I haven't seen an answer to this question. And now for some new input! @bwlkins noticed that Mrs. Sandwich is holding 4 cups of coffee, and one of the cups is crooked. Moreover, the one on the top left is askew. This is very reminiscent of the fin-15 dial, where the hour hand has passed three quarters and only the top left segment hasn't passed.

And there was also the scene "a Shostakovich record costs £8.75".

The fact that Nina symbolizes Aziraphale and Maggie symbolizes Crowley has long been noted. Mrs. Sandwich symbolizes Crowley because she stood to the right of the Chinese woman at the ball (like Crowley in the finale) and could not utter the words she wanted to. But her interlocutor understood her perfectly.

Let's watch carefully.

In the scene with 4 glasses of coffee - Sandwich (Crowley) and Nina (Azi).

In the scene with the record - Aziraphale himself and Maggie (Crowley).

So it is impossible to draw conclusions about who is a quarter and who is three quarters. And I think this was done on purpose. It's so wonderful! Each of them complements the other to make a whole. 🥰

More amazing finds in Good Omens S2 are here.

Часы в фин-15. Кто кого дополняет

В сезоне 2 много символических предметов.

Напомню, в финальной сцене за спиной Кроули мы видим часы. Часовая стрелка показывает на 9 часов, а минутная – на 25 минут.

9 часов – это три четверти от 12 часов, круглый циферблат.

25 мин – это четверть от 100, круглое число.

Это символ того, что в финале произошло несовпадение кодировок у Азикроу, и они не поняли друг друга.

Вообще, животрепещущий вопрос, кто из Азикроу "три четверти" а кто "четверть". Думаю, тут заложен дополнительный подтекст. Почти столь же актуальный и дискуссионный, как кто из них большая ложечка, а кто маленькая. Я сначала думала, что это специально не уточнили, и правильно сделали. Но может, ответ существует?

Я видела упоминания четвертей в стоимости покупок в сериале, но не видела ответа на этот вопрос. А теперь новые вводные! @bwlkins заметил 4 стакана с кофе в руках у миссис Сэндвич, и один стакан стоит криво. Причем, набекрень стоит тот стакан из четырех, который слева сверху, что ужасно напоминает циферблат в фин-15, на котором часовая стрелка прошла три четверти и не прошла только левый верхний сегмент.

А еще была сцена "пластинка Шостаковича стоит 8 фунтов 25 пенсов".

То, что Нина символизирует Азирафеля, а Мэгги символизирует Кроули, давно замечено. Миссис Сэндвич символизирует Кроули, потому что именно она на балу стояла справа от китаянки (как Кроули в финале) и мучительно не могла выговорить слова, которые хотела. Но собеседница ее прекрасно поняла.

Смотрим внимательно.

В сцене с 4 стаканами кофе – Сэндвич (Кроули) и Нина (Ази).

В сцене с пластинкой – Азирафель собственной персоной и Мэгги(Кроули).

Так что выводов о том, к кому отнести четверть, к кому три четверти, сделать невозможно. И я думаю, это сделано специально. Это так прекрасно! Любой из них дополняет второго до целого. 🥰

Больше удивительных открытий в "Благих знамениях" здесь.

[sandcobangevent]

Late Arrival

by audraeciouslyme and @lucy-g-turpin Read the fic and view the art on AO3!

“John, we already know what it is going to say. It is on the board right in front of us.” Mariana sighed, shifting her bag from one shoulder to the other.

“Yes, but what if the message is different? What if they have more up-to-date information?”

“More up-to-date information than the people inputting the information?” Sherlock looked around Heathrow, grateful for the sound-distorting ear defenders.

He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help himself. He picked up the phone and read the text. “Nope. Yep. Exactly the same. Ground stop on all flights.”

“Of course it is.” Sherlock and Mariana replied in unison.

“Why don’t we just find a place to sit and wait out the storm? It’s England. They should be used to rain by now.” Mariana walked a bit further down the terminal, finding an empty space on the wall to lean against before sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. She pulled her phone from her pocket to inform her family that they would be late.

When she had told her mother that she would actually be coming for her abuela’s birthday, her mother had practically begged her to bring Sherlock and John. The trio had become minor celebrities in the Ametxazurra household, especially with her grandmother, who had apparently developed a fondness for John Watson. Something she had yet to share with the man, lest he become even more of an awkward human being.

“Did you let the family know?” John asked, plopping himself next to Mariana, handing over a cup of coffee. Sherlock sat next to John with a bit more grace, folding his legs under him.

“Mm, yes, and they agree that it rains far too much in England.” She nodded with a small smile. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Figured we would be here long enough.” John shrugged. “So, tell us more about this party.” He suggested, sipping his own drink, wincing when the too hot liquid hit his tongue.

“My Abuela is turning 90, and the entire family is coming in to celebrate, so…it is a good thing Sherlock brought his ear defenders. They are….loud, to say the least.” While she had just been home for the Christmas holiday, this would be the first time her *entire* family would be together in years, making it all the more special.

……

The weather delay cost them the entire morning, and when they arrived in Astigarraga, the sun was already hanging high in the sky, but at least it was sunny. Incredibly sunny.

“Pequeña!” Mariana’s head swivelled quickly towards the endearment and a voice she hadn’t heard in nearly five years.

“Alejandro!” She dropped her bag to the ground, leaving it with John and Sherlock, and ran full force towards her cousin, crashing into his arms for a nearly bone-crushing hug.

“That is her older cousin, Alejandro and his sister Sofía.” Sherlock leaned down to whisper in John’s ear, answer his unasked question.

“How…How do you know that?” John turned towards Sherlock’s voice, flinching back a hair when he realised how close he actually was.

“Mrs Hudson made me a document with all her family members. Come along, Watson.” Sherlock picked up Mariana’s bag, heading towards their hosts for the weekend.

“What? How can I get one of those? Sherlo-!” John rushed after his friend, as the realisation that he was out of his depth hit him like a ton of bricks.

……

John had never heard conversations flow so fast. Mariana hadn’t been lying when she had said that her family was large and loud. They had all gathered at her parents' home, laughter and joy filling the space, and people spilled out into the back garden to play games with children of all ages or talk while food was being cooked.

Abuela’s official birthday celebration wasn’t until the following evening, but the family was still together all the same. The entire family gathered around a long table that had been set up in the back garden, lights strung from branch to branch among the trees, illuminating the dinner guests as the sun set beyond the horizon.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t pack your sun cream, John. Honestly.” Mariana scooped a generous portion of Bacalao al pilpil. “And don’t give me that face. Even Sherlock is eating it.”

“Yeah, but he also has his pasta.” John struggled with the scent of the dish before him, pungent garlic and cod overwhelming his senses, hoping it tasted better than it smelled.

“Well, he is my mother’s favourite of the podcast. Especially now that she knows he speaks Basque. Why does he speak Basque?”

“Why does he do anything?” John focused on his plate, pushing the pieces of fish around in their sauce.

“True.” Mariana shrugged. Diving into her own plate of food.

Feeling a presence close to him, John turned to find Abuela sitting next to him when she hadn’t been moments before.

“Christ, you’re quiet.” John smiled at the old woman, offering his most charming grin.

“Amona, ez bota Johnen gainera. Airean ibili zen behin. (Abuela, don’t sneak up on John. He’s been blown up before.)” Mariana laughed, lightly scolding her.

“Pertsonalki askoz erakargarriagoa da. Bidaltzen dizkiguzun argazki horietan guztietan baino askoz gehiago. (He is more attractive in person. Much better than the pictures you have sent us.)” Abuela smiled back at John, “Baina gehiago jan behar du. (He needs to eat, though.)” She pushed his plate closer to him.

“Ah, okay. Right. Ta, Abuela.” John stabbed the meat with his fork, exhaling a big breath before shoving it in his mouth. “Delicious,” he said around the bite as he chewed. And, to his surprise, he was being honest. It wasn’t that he wasn’t food adventurous, but some flavours didn’t agree with his stomach, so he was always nervous about trying dishes that he didn’t recognize. Onions were his nemesis.

“See, it's good, no?” Mariana smiled at him.

“Your grandmother knows I can’t understand a word she is saying, yeah?” John leaned over to Mariana, nodding politely as Abuela kept talking to him—or rather, at him.

“She is telling you how attractive she finds you, John.” Sherlock’s voice carried beyond the din of conversation from where he sat on the other side of Mariana’s grandmother. “And that she would like you to do more question-and-answer episodes so that she can learn more about you. However, I already know enough about you. Do not feel obligated to include me in those.”

John pursed his lips together, staring even harder at his plate of food. “I….What?…Right. Smile and nod.”

Sherlock and Mariana laughed in unison at John’s misfortune.

“She also wants to know when she will receive her personalised message for being a Diogenes subscriber from the Patreon,” Sherlock added.

John could feel his face burning from both his sunburn and his embarrassment. He cleared his throat and turned to look at Abuela. He offered her another nervous grin: “Well, I was going to save this for tomorrow, but it seems as good a time as any.” John took a deep breath and hesitantly began stumbling out the words to the Happy Birthday song in Spanish.

Abuela smiled brightly, clapping her hands together before leaning over to give John a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Izugarria izan da, baina eskerrik asko. (That was awful, but thank you.)” She said with a laugh.

[number-1-blind]

Pink

Han Jisung × Reader Phone Swap AU

Word count: 1,332

I was running as fast as I could – I was late for my class and I didn't want to be any later. I woke up late, took too long getting ready and traffic was terrible on top of it all. All this mixed with five shots of espresso wasn't doing my body much good.

I turned the corner and – oh god… I hit something. That's it, I'm gonna fail. There goes my phone, the screen is probably cracked, that's gonna cost a lot.

"Are you okay?" The wall that I ran into started talking to me, I'm going insane. He was quick to grab his phone off the ground, I suppose he dropped his too.

"I'm.. I'm fine." I mumbled as I reached down to pick up my phone. There was a little scratch on the screen that I noticed immediately.

I went to classes, I went to get coffee and to get dinner. I had gone the whole day without bothering to check my phone but when I did –  it wasn't mine. That was definitely not mine, who's even is it? 

His, it was his.

Who would ever have themselves on their lockscreen? Him, this random guy I accidentally swapped phones with. This random guy – who I now realize, as I go through his gallery, is undeniably attractive and I have his cell phone.

I felt guilty scrolling through picture after picture of him and his friends as if it wasn't his fault that the phones got mixed up in the first place. I saw selfies and portraits, thousands of screenshots he was ever so reluctant to delete, music sheets and silly photos from the grocery store. I could see into the kind of person he was.

Why had he not tried to contact me through this phone? He could easily input his number and call me, it wasn't hard. He couldn't have possibly gone that long without checking his phone at least once, well with the amount of friends he has. I might as well do that, I don't want to infringe on his privacy more than I already have.

He picked up the phone immediately.

"This isn't my phone," He spoke over the telephone lines.

"Well no kidding, Sherlock," I laughed.

He made an annoyed grumble, "Well do you want your phone back or not? Cause it seems like you really don't,"

"Only if I get to at least keep your number," 

"Alright, alright, you can keep it," I could hear his smile over the line. I wrote down the number on a small sticky note.

"We can make the exchange tomorrow, 9:00 at the coffee shop next to the school?" I suggested.

"Alright," He confirmed, "So I'll see you tomorrow," He quickly hung up.

There was a sort of anxiety to the situation. What if someone important tried to text or call me? What if he steals my phone? What if he starts sending crazy text messages? I could see that he wasn't that type of guy but questions like that don't just disappear.

I spent most the night looking at his phone and scrolling through his tiktok, his for you page was full of influencers and kpop stuff and of course the occasional vine or two. He didn't post but he had stuff saved, dances and make-up tutorials. I sort of began to wonder if he didn't have a girlfriend for a specific reason.

Just as we planned we met up at the coffee shop. When I walked through the door I spotted him immediately. He was in a black hoodie and black ripped jeans with some absolutely gigantic shoes – which I don’t blame him for wearing shoes like that, he’s not that tall.

“You have the goods?” He asked as I sat next to him at the coffee shop table. He flipped the hood of his hoodie over his head and pulled my phone out of his pocket, “I have yours if you have mine,”

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” I asked with a smirk, taking my phone back and giving him his.

“Done what? Talk to a pretty girl or make a suspicious deal?” He smiles, powering on his phone, probably to make sure that I didn’t do anything odd to his phone. I didn’t do anything odd but he might notice that I saved a few tiktoks and edited a couple pictures in his gallery. He went right to his contacts and smiled big when he noticed my number, and name, already there.

I powered on my phone and everything was intact just as it was when I left it and his name and number were in my contacts. His name was surrounded by soft blue hearts and he had it in a pretty font.

💙𝐻𝒶𝓃 𝒥𝒾𝓈𝓊𝓃𝑔💙

Han Jisung – the man who accidentally stole my phone, and heart, was named Han Jisung. And of course, he had to put my name in his phone in the most extra way possible.

“Promise I didn't do anything weird – unless you consider taking pictures of my dog weird… Actually, can you send those to me?” He assured.

I scoffed lightly, digging through my gallery to find the photos he wanted. There were like ten just of his dog and a couple of him, he couldn't go one night without a selfie? I sent them all to him and then asked if he could send me the ones that I edited of him.

He erupted with laughter like some sort of giggle volcano as he went through his gallery. I had drawn mustaches and glasses on him and left significant text commentary on his photos.

“Minho is not my boyfriend,” He laughed, looking over my commentary and editing, “And Bbama looks amazing with a mustache,”

“You look good with one too – I think I put one on your boyfriend as well,” I chuckled, looking over as he went through the photos.

The best one that I edited was probably the one of him shirtless. I had taken it upon myself to draw a shirt for him since he hadn't even bothered to put one on for the picture. He got a good laugh out of that one, saying something about how it was such a tragedy to cover such nice muscles (I didn't agree.)

We quickly became good friends and we both opted to learn more about each other before pursuing something more than a friendship.

Until, well, tonight.

I opened my door for him as usual, leading him into my home and onto my couch. He let out a little huff as he sat down, sitting in the exact same way he always does and hogging half the couch.He grabbed the TV remote and started playing something, I wasn't sure what, I think he changed it every minute or two.

I was in the kitchen, preparing something for dinner. I set the table, grabbed us plates and called him into the dining room to eat. As as He entered the dining room he looked over at me and there was a certain sparkle in his eyes that I couldn't miss.

“Hey,” He spoke, “I love you,” It caught me off guard that he uses such strong words so quickly but I couldn’t deny that I felt the same.

“I love you too,” I muttered back quietly. He had a smile, ear to ear, that was absolutely smug and goofy – things like this is what made him so attractive. His eyes lit up and he looked so happy.

“So what does this make us?” He asks.

“More than friends, finally,” He let out a soft chuckle and walked up to the table.

“Finally,”

[thatbanditqueen]

Against the Wall Chapter 3

Knock Me Down

A brief note: I need to go back and edit the previous chapters' posts, because this fic has taken on a life of its own. I envisioned it as this epic three-chapter story I would write over the winter holidays as a sort of sweet Christmas anti rom-com about Austin and an OC in the late 1980s/early 1990s. Then it took me twenty days to finish the third chapter. And it's pretty clear to me that I have more to write. At least one more chapter and an epilogue..... so whatever.....

I don't usually take requests, but I do appreciate input and feedback and suggestions, although I cannot guarantee how the writing process will work itself out, I will say that your feedback has kept me going and I included a few little scenes especially for @slowsweetlove although I probably didn't do him justice and completely defied his persona, I changed Keanu to suit my narrative needs and I hope it isn't too horrible to bear....

Catch up here:

Chapter 1: Bruised Bananas

Chapter 2: Red-Headed Woman

Summary: Picking up where we left off in chapter two, Hannah and Austin cope with the fallout from her arrest, and try to make the best of it, but fate gets in the way and they break up again, Austin begins to give in to some bad habits of his own while Hannah tries to forge a clean start but has some hard decisions to make on the way....

Rating: Explicit

Warning: smut, so 18+ only please, vaginal, oral, threesomes, sex with prostitutes, toxic, dark consensual sex, drugs, alcohol, pregnancy

Words: 15.4 K

IF YOU ENJOY PLEASE LIKE, REBLOG AND/OR LEAVE ME SOME FEEDBACK LETTING ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT.

so many typos sorry

Hannah's Rehab Playlist (basically grungey alt from late 80s/early 90s)

Hannah & Austin's Romantic Mixtape (get it on music from 70s - early 90s they would've liked... i don't know, it was part of my creative process...)

May 12, 1991, 7 am

Culver City Police Department

The wall greeted Hannah’s head with a thud, and she knocked her self back into it harder, wanting to absorb  the cold concrete, it was awelcome relief to  her warm, throbbing, anxious neck as she blocked the fluorescent glow of the overhead light with her hand. She sighed, head pounding, longing to sleep, but the adrenaline coursing through her blood made sleep impossible. That, and the general grey, dour, imprisoned atmosphere of the Los Angeles County holding cell where she found her self confined. That also made sleep impossible. So instead, she lay there, mentally flaying herself for being so stupid, so unlucky, and so utterly fucked. The severe, angry figure of Austin’s publicist Min greeted her at the discharge desk. Tall, slender, Black, with high cheekbones and an elegant, refined style, Hannah shuddered at Min’s terse smile as it led her to a white Mercedes.

“Thanks… for getting me … you didn’t have to….” Hannah looked down.

“I got a call from Austin’s agent, Brett, at 4:30 this morning informing me one of Hollywood’s hottest, highest paid actors is trying to leave an active, overseas production, one already running behind, and costing the studio hundreds of thousands of dollars a day, to rescue his girlfriend, so, um, yeah, I did have to….its going to take all my effort and connections to keep the damage to a minimum…”

Sighing as she looked out the window, Hannah  realized they were going over the 101 to the valley, a direction that was decidedly not towards her apartment. About an hour later, after a shower and some coffee, Hannah sat on a bar stool in Min’s pristine kitchen trying her best to respond to a series of questions and rules.

“Let’s not beat around the bush. My job is to minimize the amount of people who know you were arrested last night. This is best for both your career and Austin’s.” Hannah nodded to Min, but reminded herself that Min gets 10% of Austin’s salary, and his career was her priority, not hers.

“Alright,  Hannah. Have you ever been arrested before?” Hannah shook her head. “Good, that’s good… OK… now, be honest, has Austin been doing cocaine and heroin as much as you or Downey, or any of the other reprobates you have been running around with?”

“Um… Austin likes to party but uh …  he doesn’t need to, you know? I… uh… he stopped partying when he’s working on a project … he, uh, never tried H. He doesn’t even know I’ve done it…” 

“Well, he knows now. Right, ok, and how long have you had a drug problem ?”

Hannah looked down, her breathe caught in her throat before she murmured. “I don’t know if I would say I have a problem… 

“Hannah,  you were arrested for DRUGS, illegal ones, bad ones, coke and heroin ——”

“I’ve only done H a handful of times —”

“I wish you could hear yourself. Most people never utter those words…. If this gets connected to Austin, it can make him an insurance liability. Which is BAD. And, honestly the publicity is a career killer for you too,  no director wants to hire a drug addict. So we need to contain this. And you need to sound contrite, apologetic, like you understand that all drugs are bad. Got it?” Hannah nodded again, accepting her role in this conversation: silent acquiescence. 

“Right, last question - you’re on a film right now?”

“Yeah, uh … we finished the Point Break final mix Friday, that’s why I was out last night… the delivery party is next Friday …” 

“You are one lucky girl.” Min put her coffee down, pointing at Hannah as she spoke. “You may actually get out of this with your reputation intact… if you do EXACTLY as I say. Rule one, no more dressing up like you’re auditioning for a Guns n’ Roses video. Think sleek, think simple, think modest. I want you to look like a PTA mom who is also an accountant. Got it?” 

Hannah mumbled how she hated Guns n’ Roses, but her chin bobbed up and down with assent. 

“Good. Ok, rule two, and hopefully this is obvious, but no more partying. I don’t care if you’re at the wrap party and Patrick Swayze offers you shots off his tight, perfect ass. You are now the paragon of sober, chaste behavior. I’m setting you up with an attorney, good one, Sheila, she specializes in these… sorts of…things… You need to prepare yourself. Sheila is going to tell you to start going to twelve step meetings, it will look good. She’ll ask for rehab in exchange for no jail time and a dismissal of charges.”

Hannah’s head fell into her hands, and her voice was shaking. “But I —“

“Possession of heroin, cocaine, unregistered guns, those are felonies here in California. Trust me babe, you don’t wanna fuck with prison. Rehab is the sensible choice, the choice that keeps this off your record, and then boom, clean slate…. ok, last rule: no more carbs.”

“Wait, why shouldn’t I eat carbs?”

“People always gain weight when they go to rehab, darling, and it would just make my life so much easier if you started saying no to carbs. And maybe yes to cigarettes? Now there’s a drug addiction I can get behind, keeps the appetite down, looks cool, might even help you get through all this.”

“Gee, thanks for the pep talk, Min, you make me feel horrible about myself.”

“Good, channel that when you think you want a doughnut. And smoke instead.”

Chewing sweet, glazed doughnuts in the passenger seat of her friend Robin’s car, Hannah let the gooey carbohydrates do their work comforting her as she prepared to call Austin. It was nighttime in London, and the cool, self control in his voice threw her off. Hannah could almost feel his abs tensing as he tightened up inward and put up a calm front. His timbre was steady, confident, unflappable. There was a slight British twinge to his voice, she could hear the Jagger in it, and he sounded like a bizarre version of himself. Hannah tried to lighten the mood, teasing him about his accent, but it was hard to combat every variation of his vague “the main thing is that you are ok, right Banana?”  It betrayed how worried he was. Guilty for making him worry, guilty for ruining their travel plans, Hannah explained how she wouldn’t be flying over in two weeks and didn’t know when they would see each other.

“I totally get it if you want to take a break…” Hannah offered.

“What, from us?” 

“Yeah,” she added, wiping her eyes, letting the word salad tossing around her mind tumble out. “I just… I … I’m a mess and its already been so long since we had sex and being with me is putting your career at risk, and I would never fuck with your money…. or your art … you are so talented …  and I fucked up and I just… I would understand —if you need a break from the drama… ”

Austin paused, her comment about his talent was unnerving, raw praise was not something Hannah did, it usually was hidden in back handed mockery or laced with sarcasm. Watching Hannah struggle to admit he was good at anything made it so charming when she did, that, in those moments, he actually felt like he deserved her approval. She was perpetually the same to him since they met: brutally honesty and never obsequious, no matter his success. Or hers, for that matter. Hannah’s authenticity drove his need to have her in his life. That, and the way her feisty stubbornness provoked a subconscious desire to conquer her, she was a challenge he would surmount, and he secretly longed to marry her, fill her with children and make her his forever. But Austin never really entertained those inclinations. He couldn’t explain how he felt that, and then was also turned on by how ambitious and smart and talented Hannah was. He loved mentally sparring with her, exchanging witty barbs with each other was like foreplay. Then also, he loved catching her at work at the end of the day, still editing a scene. Her eyes lit up, biting her lip in concentration as if she was solving a complex puzzle. Then there was the way she never expected or demanded anything, never took it for granted that he would pay for dinner, concert tickets or trips, had refused to move in with him. Her plucky, unassuming self-reliance made him want to take care of her even more and give her the life she’d never had. There were moments when Hannah let down her walls and became vulnerable, moments when she let herself be raw,  ask for help, or reach out to be touched, Austin lived for those moments. His favorite view of her was from between her legs, when she was completely naked, and his mouth was in her cunt, licking her, pleasing her, devouring her in ways she had always been wya too self conscious to let another man touch her. Austin lived to watch her face twist in tortured ecstasy as she writhed beneath him, moans begging him to continue, while her eyes betrayed her fear of the unbridled feelings she couldn’t control. It was sticking his tongue into a live current of lightening in the middle of velvet hurricane.

Austin had been in London  for a month and he ached for Hannah’s companionship. Work was a useful distraction, his days started on the set at 6 am, and then he was often not back to the hotel, often, before 8 or 9 pm, sometimes grabbing a bite with the other cast members or crew. He told himself he was glad not to have Hannah there, it wouldn’t have been fair to leave her all day six days a week, and then giving her the worst version of himself in the evenings, exhausted and just wanting to recover and recharge. Acting demanded so much intense work, that being alone on an overseas shoot made it easier to stay in character. Which was the part of his job he loved, the magic of subsuming himself in a character that wasn’t plain, boring Austin from Anaheim. 

Sundays were his only day off, and today, on this Sunday, listening to Hannah blabber on insecure and nice and completely vulnerable sparked something primal in Austin. He wanted to throw his phone down and run to Heathrow and fly too her immediately. He banged his hand on the table, frustrated at how stuck he was, and made a mental note to tell Min that money was no object for a lawyer or rehab or whatever else was needed to  to take care of Hannah right now. Ashley, he needed to call his sister Ashley and ask if she could drive to LA and help out as well. Making this mental list, Austin roused himself from his reverie and returned to their conversation.

“HAN - NAH,” Austin’s voice growled in a low, husky rumble through the phone receiver slowly and surely. “Stop…. sshhhhh…  baby…. you’re tired, you’re scared, it’s ok baby…. I get it… but….I. Love. You. Do you hear me Red? … I FUCKING BLOODY WELL LOVE YOU. I am not some sex crazed teen age boy. I’m a grown man. I’m not going to break up with you the day you get arrested for heroin because I need to fuck something… I would be there with you if I could, baby. It kills me that I can’t be there to take care of you -”

“But you shouldn’t have to take care of me, you should be with someone easier —”

“Banana! You were extremely easy …. that’s partly why I love you - you didn’t play hard to get, you opened up those legs the second I met you and then fucked me in an alley before you even knew my name —”

“That’s not what I meant. Plus, I knew your first name…  and I could tell you were an ok guy, I saw your soul in the bathroom that night … But that’s not the kind of easy I’m talking about… I meant uncomplicated… simple… easy to live with…”

“Nothing worth having is easy, Red … look… you’re the only one I want… I don’t want anyone else. I love you. I love your messy, big beautiful…. brain… those two heaving sides of your cerebellum, working up new insults to hurl at me… I honestly don’t know how you do it… I love your big, beautiful tits…” his voice was low, husky now, slowly as he relished the mental image of Hannah the last time they’d been naked in bed together. “I love your big, beautiful Banana butt, and I really really love your sweet, little, tight —”

“Austin stop! I’m at Robin’s house, she is sitting ten feet from me —”

 “MOUTH… what did you think I was gonna say? S’ides, she can’t hear what I am saying—“

“But she can see my reaction, even though she is on the couch, politely pretending to read a magazine and being very very cool about everything…”

“Wait, are you blushing? OH baby, you’re so fucKing cute when you blush…. Especially when your lips are around my—

“Austin!”

“Ok, ok. Look. I can’t help it, your voice is so sexy its distracting me… Look, I’m fine. I’m so busy with work, its probably good you aren’t flying to London, because we’re doing twelve hour shoots.  I’ll just come home after we wrap, I need a break, you do too, so its good we aren’t gonna travel around Europe all summer. I need to recover….  I’ll be home in August, and until then, it’ll be just like any other long distance thing, and we’ll be fine. We’re already pretty banging at phone sex…  and you can use all that free time in rehab to write me dirty love letters —”

A loud guffaw escaped from Hannah’s rough, cried-out throat.

“Oh baby, I love it when you snort. Loudly.”

“Shut up, Austin, you really are a dirty, little pervert. I swear, I can hear your hard on…. I can just tell from your goofy voice… how can snorting turn you on?”

“The world works in mystical ways, never question a hard on… just say thank you….”

Hannah chuckled, “I can’t decide if I want to punch you or make out…?’

“I wish we could do both, preferably, in that order… oh Banana, everything is gonna be ok. Maybe this is a good thing.”

Hannah paused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sighing, Austin looked up and let his eyes wander, unfocus, following the rectangles of light bouncing off the crystal chandelier in his hotel room. He wondered if Hannah would be in this trouble if he had just been man enough to confront her before he left LA last month. If he really wallowed in self pity, his guilt spiraled back to their first break up, when he cheated on her. Because after getting back together, the biggest change he observed was Hannah’s new daily coke habit. It was a drug she used to hate it, and now she did it first thing in the morning. One evening before he left for England, SJP had cornered Austin at the Viper Room and confided that she was pretty sure Bob and Hannah were doing heroin with Johnny Depp, Winona Ryder and River Phoenix in the club’s back office. That Hannah had started experimenting with smack in Venice with Bob, behind her back. Austin had told her she was being paranoid, they were doing blow, like everyone else. Sure, Hannah enjoyed blow, maybe too much, but then again, coke was everywhere, e was everywhere, and everyone was doing it, including them. But heroin? No. Hannah was no junkie, she had no track marks, wasn’t passing out, or missing work, or stealing things. She was just going through a party girl phase, needed to let off steam now that she was getting better jobs, and needed to get it out of her system and find her rhythm.  Now, after the arrest, he wasn’t so sure, and the prospect of Hannah being locked away in a rehab, getting rest, forced off drugs, was actually a salve comforting the overwhelming sense of powerlessness and fear running through him because he was so far away. 

“Banana... I’m just saying maybe some rest and relaxation will be good….”

May 17, 1991

Hannah tried to be good while her lawyer, Sheila, sorted out her case. She wore boring clothes. She clenched her fist and powered through the week totally clean until the Point Break wrap party, when she looked down to find herself sipping on a beer and couldn’t even remember picking it up. Fuck it, its just one, you deserve it with the week you’ve had. Three beers and two shots of tequila later Hannah was smoking a joint out back with a mix of actors and crew, including Keanu Reeves, Lori Petty and others. The night went on, the atmosphere was giddy with the thrill of completing such a large-scale action movie and Hannah chased her warm buzz into a drunken fuck-it cyclone. Staggering toward her car, wondering if she should drive, she was rescued from indecision by a bounding Keanu running into her, long hair flapping behind him as he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards a group heading to Sunset in a limo. Hannah couldn’t see straight leaving the The Standard at 2:30 a.m., and found herself sharing a cab alone with Keanu, and his hands, one of which found its way to her knee, a glint sparkling in his eyes, his brows arched in a question.  In that moment, the sheer flattery of his proposition sent a of flock butterflies fluttering through Hannah’s belly, and she looked up at Keanu’s rugged jawline through blurry eyes, focusing her eyes on the rough stubble calling out for her fingers, imagining how sweet it would be to look up at him as he fucked her softly, slowly, tenderly. No one would know. She felt like she was dancing above a ravine, daring herself to tumble in to her own demise. Hearing his velvety, warm voice, Hannah almost propelled herself forward.

“You know, Rosenfeld, you’re the cutest editor I’ve ever met…”

Hannah let out a sardonic, “ha,” taking a deep breath. It took all her will power to remove Keanu’s hand from her knee. 

“Not sure if that’s a compliment… most editors are gross, nerdy, old white dudes… kinda low bar there, K-Rock… but, thanks anyway… it’s just … I have a boyfriend…”

“Still with Austin?”

She nodded, leaving with a hug before wobbling out of the cab and into Robin’s house. The base of her head was still throbbing Monday morning when Austin’s sister, Ashley, showed up to take her to lunch and help her get ready for rehab.

August 17, 1991

Golden Key Treatment Center, Half Moon Bay, CA

Hannah stood in front of the mirror, tee shirt lifted up, moving her hand over her belly and hips, stopping at the top of her grey sweatpants and snapping the elastic in frustration.

“Ughhh, I think I’ve gained 10 pounds since I got here… what the fuck can I possibly wear tomorrow?” She whined to her roommate Sonal, who looked up as she flipped through Cosmo. 

“Shut up Hannah, you look healthy, I would kill for your tits…..”

Hannah shifted from side to side. “And I would kill to be 18 again, like you, with your stupid metabolism and great genes … you could be a model… I would hate you if you weren’t the only other sane person here… but you need to tell your mom tomorrow, no more bringing tubs of Indian food for us to eat at family visitation …  Ok, from now on, every time I want to eat, I’m gonna smoke… coming? ” Hannah slipped on her birks and grabbed her pack of Parliament methols. Sonal followed her downstairs and outside to the ring of metal chairs and benches in the designated smoking area. Golden Key was like a jail mixed with a posh psych ward housed in a Mediterranean style villa overlooking the Pacific Ocean above levels of manicured gardens punctuated with fountains, a pool and tennis courts. The most comfortable smoking section was a deck off to one side of the lobby at the entrance, hidden from the drive by a line of tall evergreen shrubbery, but convenient for those stressful moments Sundays during family time visiting with guests in the main building. 

Today, Hannah and Sonal were alone on their walk through the grounds. Saturdays were the only day patients could get a day pass to leave campus with a buddy or approved guest. It was also one of two days they got to sleep in, and Hannah and Sonal had conspired to stay in, eat cookie dough and veg out watching television, for once not having to compromise with others on what they watched in the common room. Hannah had regressed back to habits from her freshman year at UCLA, spending the day in pajamas without make up, smoking menthols and watching TV.

Sonal exhaled her cigarette, “How long did you say it’s been since you saw your boyfriend?”

“Early April… it’s been over four months ago… he’s probably boarding his flight right now … today’s actually his birthday, but he couldn’t get over until tomorrow…  I’ve been trying to think where we can sneak off during visitation tomorrow … though he probably won’t want to fuck me when he sees how fat and boring I’ve become here… ”

“Hannah… if its been four months, he won’t care what you look like. Why was he in London again?” 

Hannah bit her lip, “Yeah,  he, uh … his company transferred him, but he’s—”

Standing, Sonal looked through the shrubs out toward the circular driveway. “Shhh, Hannah, a black convertible just pulled up front, it looks expensive… ”

Hannah bounced up, moving to peep around the shrubs. “That’s a Lamborghini….” she murmured, watching a tall white guy with shoulder length blonde hair covering his face grab a bouquet of roses and step out of the car. A shot of electricity went through her stomach as she realized who it was, and, stabbing out her cigarette butt she became a woman possessed. She scurried around the deck’s stone balustrade columns and ran down the steps towards the car, the flop of her sandals falling off didn’t phase her. The force of her body knocked Austin back onto the hood of the car as she jumped onto him, legs around his waist, a high pitched squeal escaping her mouth before it smashed against his lips.

“Hey Red…happy to see me?” Austin looked up, through a sly grin in-between kisses, blue eyes bright and twinkling at Hannah. She slide off him, panting and giggling, then realizing she was barefoot in sweatpants, she punched Austin in the shoulder. 

“Asshole - I did not want to look like like this the first time you saw me…..I fucking hate you!”

Austin smirked as he rubbed his mouth, raw from Hannah’s assault on it, his hands were now on her waist as he pulled her back into his embrace. “Shut up, you look fucking hot… I might have to ravish you right here on my new car…”

“NOPE…. I know how much you like public sex… ugh, actors… consistently looking for an audience… well, the joke’s on you, babe… now you have to wait for me to shower and get some clothes on.”

“What’s the point when I’m going spend the rest of the night tryin to get them off…?”

“Hmm, we’ll see if you have a chance with that British accent… where’s the man I said goodbye to in March? Did you leave my boyfriend back in London?”

“Yeah… I … uh…” Austin ran his hand through his long hair, pushing it behind his ear, embarrassed. “I’m working on that… I’ve been speaking like Mick Jagger for almost six months… longer if you count the dialogue coach I started with last fall… at this point…  I don’t even know what my real voice sounds like, I mean, this feels like my real voice… certain things trigger it and other times as well it’s, I don’t know… I can’t help it, its like a part of the fiber of my being… fuck, that sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”

Hannah caressed the side of his mouth, noticing how tired he looked. “No, it doesn’t sound stupid… that’s the nature of being an empty vessel… a beautiful, tall, sexy empty vessel… sometimes it takes a while for the contents to drain out, right?” She pulled Austin’s neck forward, and stood on her toes to kiss his check. “I love you Austin Jagler…” 

A kiss to his other cheek, and Austin’s face melted into a lusty haze, beaming down on her with a broad, affectionate grin. Her witty barbs and insults were an aphrodisiac. Hannah could have asked him to drive his brand new Lamborghini into the ocean and he would have. Just watching Hannah’s boobs bounce up and down (had they gotten bigger since April?) as she ran toward him without a bra on, her hair bobbing out of a messy bun, shoes falling off as she pummeled him on to his new car, tits first, smooshing him down under a mountain of soft, billowy breasts, and he was transfixed. Knocked down, figuratively and literally, He could have stayed there, on the Lamborghini’s hood, fully clothed, watching her hover above him, the outline of her nipples visible through her shirt, and he would have been content for hours. Although now that she had steadied herself, and was once again demeaning, insecure, doting and violent all at once as she slapped him, called him an empty vessel and told him she loved him, he was even more bewitched then ever. 

“Austin?” Hannah snapped her fingers in his face. “You must really be jet lagged… I said, you have to fill out some forms inside while I change, I’ll be real quick.”

An hour later, Austin’s left hand was pushing up the hem of Hannah’s knee length yellow and green flowered dress, finding its way to rest on her knee, slowing moving up higher, his left hand steering them out of the Golden Key’s gates and down the hill towards the coast. She leaned on his shoulder, and he kissed the top of her hair, lifting his arm to pull her in closer.

“You are such a bastard, showing up a day early … you’re lucky you’re so pretty… and that it’s your birthday…. and that I missed you …” she said, her voice becoming breathy, low, and Austin gasped at the way her hand moved to caress the top of his inner thigh. She chuckled as his cock twitched and he reached down to remove her hand.

“Mmmhmmm… you’re gonna make me crash, baby… I only just landed in San Francisco this morning, and this is a new car, and I’m not used to this windy road … so, where are we going?”

“You bought this car this morning on your way here?”

“No, Alex picked it up for me and drove it to meet me at the plane.”

“Fucking movie stars … don’t even buy your own cars… making your assistant drive nine hours from LA with a shiny new toy instead of just renting a car like a normal person… pathetic… “ Austin grinned, eyes remaining forward on the road, it made him feel powerful to hear Hannah recount his extravagance through mockery, the way her eyes widened told him she was secretly impressed.

“Ugh, Half Moon Bay is really a one horse town… there’s a fisherman’s wharf touristy area, some beaches, a square with a few shops… I just have to be back by 9, and, um, we’re not supposed to leave the town…”

“Right, but how would they know?”

“I would know… I um… I’m really trying to do this … I want to graduate sooner rather than later…”

“Graduate?”

“Yeah, remember? I wrote about it, in one of my very long, dumb rambly letters … it’s stupid, but the program length is variable here, three months to a year, based on how long it takes to complete their ‘three phases’ and ‘graduate’ from the program…”

“What phase are you on?”

“Two… I have a sponsor in NA and I’m plugging along … rah rah rah…”

“That’s good, though, I mean… right?”

Hannah squinted, looking ahead of her, and then looked down, fidgeting with her dress. “Yes.” Her voice was low, sincere. “Yes. I’m glad I’m here. I wasn’t at first….. but now I’ve been here for two months and… I … I have been able to admit that ….. the drugs were a problem for me… and… I don’t want to do them anymore … I want to be free… is that the lamest thing ever? Don’t worry, they haven’t totally brainwashed me … I’m still a devout atheist… I still like sex and rock ’n roll …but, I um… look…. we should talk tonight I guess, because if you need a girlfriend who you can get fucked up with and share that party lifestyle with I totally get it…but being clean, for me, means no booze… no recreational e and dancing at parties in the desert…”

Austin’s face grew pensive, and he drew Hannah in tighter, planting a long kiss again on the top of her head. “Shut up with that… First, we did that once because YOU wanted to… raves are not exactly my scene… and Second, You’re my girl, ok? I’m gonna take care of you. I want to….And, uh…I’m like, really proud of you, Hannah Banana, I really am… so let’s figure out more pressing issues… like,it’s 1:30, I gotta get you back by 9… that doesn’t give us much time, we should probably go straight to my hotel…”

Hannah guffawed, “Not even gonna buy me dinner first, huh?” 

Austin’s heart swelled and he felt himself harden more, Hannah’s teasing lilt made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and he rubbed her knee. “Don’t worry, I’ll think of something to feed you,” he tried to play it straight, looking ahead, but unable to stop his deep chuckles as Hannah playfully slapped him. “I meant to talk…” he laughed,  “like we should just go to my hotel, so we have somewhere private to talk… we have a lot to talk about… we don’t even have to have sex today… or even go to the super deluxe suite I got with a big, comfy king bed … we can just hang out on the hotel grounds, the lobby is nice, there’s like a path along some cliffs and an outdoor fire place, there’s a golf course somewhere…”

Hannah hummed, her hand sliding around his waist, “Ok, yeah, you know how much I love golf …” 

“What the fuck, Austin…  the Ritz? I didn’t even know this was here, leave it to you to find the most overpriced poncy, rich asshole place to stay.” Hannah exclaimed, as Austin led her through the lobby of the Half Moon Bay Ritz Carlton. He shrugged, walking towards the outdoor bar where a fire was indeed roaring from a large, stone pit, and you could see the Pacific Ocean churning beyond green cliffs. Hannah shook her head, and pulled him to her, standing on her toes to whisper into his ear, “I need to use the bathroom, can we go to room?” Her teeth grazing the bottom of Austin’s earlobe, and she grinned as his eye brows lifted and he nodded his chin, tapping his hand over his thigh during the elevator ride up. 

Looking at herself in the bathroom mirror, Hannah’s confidence faded a bit, she pulled on the waddle that had expanded under her chin, and pushed it back to up, looking at herself with both hands pulling back the excess skin around her face. Stupid fucking cow, you were almost a size 8… now you can barely get into your size 12 clothes… But Hannah’s confidence surged back when she came out to find the eager, almost innocent look of awe in Austin’s eyes glued to her from the couch where he was untying his oxfords,  camel hair jacket already off. He jumped up and sauntered over, pushing his long hair to the side. She shivered at his hands closing in around her waist, savoring how the back of his index finger lightly feathered up and down her sides. His blue eyes were dark and half lidded with lust above a dopey smile. 

“Hey…” his voice was husky, slow, and Hannah’s pulse quickened, quivering at his touch, the fire building in her core swelled and her chin jolted down, embarrassed of how intense her desire felt. Her breath was uneven, nervous, and Austin’s right hand moved to her soothe her cheek, cupping it and turning it towards him.

“Hey… is this ok? You ok?” Hannah nodded, her fingers moving to play and tug at the belt loops on his hips, pushing into him. Now both of Austin’s hands were cupping her face, thumbs gliding over the tops of her cheeks, his lips soft on hers, then pausing to swallow anxiously. Her eyes widened, as she nuzzled the tip of his nose, and his head bent down, the warmth from his forehead meeting hers, eyes squeezed shut, shuddering as he mumbled, “Oh god baby, sweet baby, I missed you so much… so… so much….” 

A warm tingling pricked at the sides of Hannah’s eyes, she thought she might cry, but she kept it at bay, nodded, her hands tightening around him as his nose grazed her cheek and his lips were on her earlobe, then kissing the nape of her neck softly.  He drew her closer to him, taking her left hand in his right palm to sway  around the room, half speaking/half singing the lyrics to the song “Lady in Red” softly in her ear. Austin’s slow, gravelly, semi-British inflection pulled her in and she followed his lead, moving in harmony, their bodies softening and relaxing as they remembered how they fit together. 

I've never seen you looking so gorgeous as you do tonight…

I've never seen you shine so bright

You’re amazing

I've never seen so many people want to be there by your side

And when you turned to me and smiled

It took my breath away

And I have never had such a feeling

Such a feeling of complete and utter love

As I do tonight

The lady in red is dancing with me

Cheek to cheek

There's nobody here

It's just you and me

It's where I want to be

Well, I hardly know this beauty by my side

I'll never forget the way you look tonight

Austin’s voice cracked, and Hannah heard it and felt it, with her head was resting on his chest. It sent a wave of electricity up her belly. Austin paused by the window, smoothing her hair, his fingers trailing down her back.

“I love you, Red, forever and always..,”

“I love you too, Austin, always and forever.” He gripped her closer as he felt her voice reverberating through his chest. 

Austin pulled back to look into Hannah’s big brown eyes, wide and vulnerable, her pupils blown with longing, and he answered it with a kiss, stroked her back with his thumb. The kisses became deeper, his mouth enclosing her upper lip, softly, then pulling on it, before their tongues collided, each beckoning the other to consume them completely. Hannah fingers worked their way down the buttons of his black, flower patterned dress shirt, slowly, biting her lip as it finally fell to the floor and her hands moved, shakily, over his smooth, firm skin.  Austin grabbed her right hand, kissing the back of her palm. Her other hand brushed a lock of his long hair out of his eyes, tucking it behind his ear.

“I like the long hair, by the way… you look like a handsome, rock star surfer.” Hannah whispered, grasping a handful and pushing it behind his right ear. 

“Thanks…” Austin muttered distractedly as he pulled at her dress, exhaling with awe as he slowly raised it up over her head, shaking his head and popping his lips at the sight of Hannah’s heaving pale breasts. He bent down in reverence to kiss the line of freckles above them, grinning like a school boy at the sound of his fingers successfully pulling off the last hook of her bra clasp. Now his hands were moving slowly down her back, playing with the elastic of her panties as his lips forged a trail from her décolletage to her mouth. Feeling her tense, he looked down to see Hannah sucking in her stomach, using her arms to cover the slope of her belly and hips, and he stepped back, as if reading her mind, he pulled her hands away so her could admire her whole figure.

“You’re gorgeous, Red… really… I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”

Hannah rolled her eyes, “Stop…”

“No, really…” Austin lowered himself on his quads to grab Hannah by her ass cheeks, lifting her up and carrying her under her knees and back over to the bed, then laying her down gently. Hovering over her, Austin’s eyes smoldered. “I need to tell you something baby…. you look better, you look healthy, you look like you did when we met… this is how your body is supposed to look…” his hand stroked the roundness of her hips, grabbing and rolling her soft, supple flesh, as he leaned in to kiss Hannah’s shoulder, smirking as she whimpered in response to the soft touch of his fingers tracing a line up her belly to her breasts to flick her nipple. A bolt of lightening ran down Hannah’s spine and sparked at her core, a fire building as Austin mumbled on, the arousal in his voice shuddering through. “These curves just kill me… I’ve seen you naked hundreds of times now, and every time it’s still …. a fucking revelation, I just want to sink in, explore every contour, feel every bounce, taste every inch of you…” as he said this, Austin pushed himself lower, until he was on his knees at the base of the bed, looking into Hannah’s eyes as he slowly slide her panties off, eyebrow arched in a question, then hastening to rip them off once Hannah nodded her chin in assent. Austin dragged her legs towards him until they were over his shoulder and Hannah’s rosy pink pussy met his face with a wet slap at the edge of the bed. He held her still when she twitched, responding to the intense flick of his tongue over the center her clit. Austin spoke into Hannah’s sex, his hands soothing the top of her thighs.

“Shhhh… s’ok… don’t worry, I’m not gonna hurt you baby…”

“Mhmmmm I know, I’m ok,” Hannah’s eyes met Austin’s, looking up at her between her legs. “ I just… I don’t think I’ve ever done this sober, not really, not like this where I’ve been clean for months…”

Austin leaned forward to lav at Hannah’s core, maintaining eye contact, and then pausing to rub her clit with his thumb, savoring the pitter patter of his finger against her slick flesh. 

“I’m into it, I want to see you, the real you, I can’t wait to watch you come undone, unfiltered, knowing that I am making you feel pleasure, and not some chemicals…” 

Throwing her head back, Hannah cried out when Austin returned his tongue to her nub, her fingers seizing the duvet cover to steady her through the intense waves of pleasure washing over her as the tip of his tongue rolled on her, up and down in a syncopated trance, then shifting to circle around her core, bringing his thumb to messaged her entrance and gently open it up, his tongue back home on her clit, fingers gliding inside her, calling out to her center as his rhythm intensified, responding to the thrust of Hannah’s hips now fucking into his mouth was she chased the sensation building in her belly until she screamed out a refrain of “oh gods,” her face contorting in agony through her release, hips bucking slowly as the waves crashed outward and the heat of her orgasm rippled out across her body. The sparks flew up through her nose and tingled down to the skin at the base of her feet.

“Oh god Austin… I FUCKING love you…” she cried out, her head flinging back as she panted. Austin grinned up at her, his thumb riding her through her climax over her clit, before she pulled him off by his wrist, unable to take the over stimulation. Hannah perched up on her elbows and caught her breathe, her fingers aimlessly twirliing Austin’s long hair. He smirked a self-satisfied smirk, wiping his mouth on the duvet, then lifting himself up effortlessly from his shins.

Hannah admired his bare abs, rising in a V shape to broad, muscular hard shoulders, he spoke while looking down to unbuckle his pants. “I honestly don’t know how long I’ll last today baby…. It’s been a while… unless you count jerking off to the sound of your voice…” Still panting, Hannah’s mouth turned into a bright gleam, and she sat up, making him trip over the edge of the bed as she pulled him down toward her, kicking off the last leg of his trousers and jostling to land over her with a burst of laughter. Pushing the blonde hair out of his face, Hannah looked up into his eyes with an affectionate grin, the reverence she found there made her gasp.

“I still can’t get over the fact that you’re really here with me, that it’s really you,” she whispered, pinching his arm. “I’m afraid any moment I’m going to wake up in my bed at GK and this will all be some sort of wet dream.”

Austin leaned in, meeting his lips with hers, his tip grazing her entrance as he met her eyes. 

“If this is a dream, I don’t wanna wake up, I just wanna be here with you.” He started to push into her, slowly, grunting low as a he watched Hannah’s eyes widen and her breath hitch in her throat with a gasp, exhaling through the snug fit of her cunt and the way she involuntary clenched around him.

“Hey, you ok?” His eyes darted up to search hers.

“Mhmmmmm…uh huh…” she answered, moaning out, “I just… may be out of practice…”

“S’ok…” Austin slowly thrust out, and then, rocking back into her, he grabbed her hips and swiveled onto his back so that Hannah was now on top. “Take the wheel, baby, let’s go at your pace.” 

Pausing to reposition her knees on either side of his hips, Hannah pushed her hands onto his chest to steady herself, her breath sharp as she lifted off of him and then slid back down, a glint in her eyes. 

“I like ... uhhhh… how I tell you… I’m …ummff….. out of practice and… ahhhhh…. out of shape and that I don’t know what I’m doing…. And …o f fuck…..you put me in charge…” She grunted, her voice was playful as she began to bob up and down on Austin’s cock, biting her lips as she found the angle that made a spark jolting up through her core with each forward movement.

“Oh god, fuck I missed you so much….” Austin groaned, his hands digging into her hips as she rode him deeper and he rose to meet each thrust, his hands tightening to slow her down. “Whoo, wait, hold on…” Hannah paused, as Austin pushed himself up, his legs folding under her as he pulled her knees up on either side of him.  Hannah felt his cock push deeper, as she met his body, straddling him at eye level as he wrapped his arms around her waist, and she lowered her legs on either side of his, her arms now hooked around his shoulders. Their bodies were twisted together upright in an embrace as Hannah began to grind against Austin slowly in lotus position, feeling his length glide up and down within her, the muscles in his arms tensing as they moved with her hips to support each push up and down. Face-to-face in the middle of the bed, their mouths hovered across from each other as they gazed into each other’s eyes. Austin’s breath synced with Hannah’s and she grasped the back of his neck, twirling his hair into a rope away from his face as she kissed him deeply, passionately, heaving back and forth as her pussy opened up further for him with each thrust. 

“I missed you too…” Hannah murmured between low gasps, her hips dipping up and down deliberately, a loud moan escaping her mouth.

Austin’s fingers drew her in closer. “Let’s just live here in this bed and… never… uhhhh … leave… ok?”  Amused, Hannah nodded, as Austin pulled her in for another kiss, his lips wet, tongue furtive, bodies pressed tightly together, Austin savored the swell of Hannah’s breasts against his heart as they fucked into each other in a slow, soulful rhythm. Austin’s hands began to move Hannah’s hips more energetically.

“I love you… Hannah Banana”

“I love you too pretty boy…” her fingers slide down to his chest and began to tweak his nipples, and Hannah bit her lip as his blue eyes met hers with an intense heat, plunging down onto him, hips rippling as he worked them with her and she felt a tension building in her core. “Fuck Austin, I think I’m gonna cum again…”

He bit his lip, nodding his forehead against hers. “Hey, that’s my girl… just relax… don’t fight it…. Uhhhh god….you feel so soft when you cum…  ride me through it… FUCK I fucking love you….”

Letting loose Hannah cried out, trembling as she continued to rock back and forth over Austin until he jerked harder up into her, his abdomen tightening, her name on his lips as he convulsed and exploded deep inside her. 

“Oh god...” Austin muttered, his brow bending into hers as he stilled her hips and Hannah pushed down, squeezing her arms around him until they fell sideways. She landed on his chest as they exhaled, a heaving pile of spent limbs. 

The sun set over the ocean, and Hannah and Austin spent the rest of the afternoon in bed, crawling to the phone to order room service, sitting on the bed lazily drinking Pellegrino and feeding each other French fries, finding new ways for their bodies to fit together when splayed across each other. Austin murmured in her ear how he wanted Hannah to move in with him when she graduated, and she nodded, all the pride and snark and insecure stubbornness fucked out of her. 

“Ok. If you mean it.”

“Let me take care of you Hannah.”

“We can take care of each other, ok? I’m not some helpless patient… I’m just… trying to get better… but… I am so, so SO grateful, lucky? For your support… it makes it so much easier to be here now that I an escape with you….” She answered, and he kissed her forehead.

“You’re right… we take care of each other… and I’ll be back next weekend, cuz I need you…. Being here with you, it’s like you fill up this empty, Hannah shaped hole in my life….”

She giggled, and slapped his shoulder. “I feel like you fill up an empty Austin-shaped hole deep inside me…”

Austin rolled his eyes. “I meant figuratively… like a part of my soul is incomplete without you.”

Hannah turned to look at him, as he spooned her from behind, their eyes met and Hannah waggled her eyebrows, leaning up to kiss Austin’s lips and then moving around so that they were once again tangled in an embrace, kissing deeply as their bodies softly heaved into one another, and before he knew it, Austin was above Hannah again, hard, looking for her nod as he spread her legs and guided himself into her once more.

“Oh gawd, baby, when I’m inside you I just feel like I’m home….” 

Hannah’s big brown eyes, widened, a deep laugh burst out of her throat, followed by the sharp gasp she exhaled as Austin’s cock lunged into her. 

“Austin, that is so corny, that’s like the Hallmark card for vaginas… CUM home Austin…”

“Shhh, Hannah…ughhhh” he smiled down at her, hovering above as he continued to thrust into her. “Don’t ruin the romantic mood——”

“Ok..baby… you’re right…. It’s so… ughhhh.. romantic when you tell me how my pussy is like …ahhh” their conversation was punctuated by groans of pleasure. “House….”

“Like home, like it is so comforting to be inside a familiar pussy, a homey pussy…ughhhh”

She laughed and shook her head, and then gripped his sides as Austin began to pump into her harder, and Hannah could no longer form full sentences, her whole body buzzed from the electricity generated by each pound against her g spot. Within a few more minutes, she was coming unraveled, and Austen soon followed.

Dozing off in a post coital nap, it was 8:15 when Hannah eventually rose and began to dress, looking over her shoulder with a heavy heart. Austin followed, hand through his hair, retrieving his own clothes and dropping her back at her rehab with the promise that he would be at family visitation the next day. Before she got out of the car, Hannah handed him a small jewelry box with a bow wrapped around it.

“Happy birthday, pretty boy…”

He opened the box, finding a cassette tape labeled with Hannah’s handwriting, Songs that Make Me Think of You. 

“ I was planning to give it to you tomorrow… there are no cool shops in Half Moon Bay… and you have so much money and stupid things anyway…. so I thought I’d make you something… there some Cure, REM, Pixies, Elvis Costello…. some love songs… ugh, it’s stupid… I mean, you just bought yourself a Lamborghini…”

Austin grinned, shaking his head, as he cupped her face and drew her to him. “Shut up. This is perfect because you made it for me… I can’t wait to listen to it…”

Mid August though Mid September, 1991

The next few weekends would follow much the same, as Austin drove up from LA to visit and September came to call, bringing with it a cooler bite to the coastal California sea air. The mood at rehab changed perceptibly, and Hannah waltzed through her days on a pink cloud, scribbling daily journal entries, speaking openly and positively in groups, meetings, sessions with her counselor and her NA sponsor. As she started to make plans to move home, phrase three was in her sights, all she had to do was connect with a temporary NA sponsor in LA and set up a meeting, and she could start planning to graduate the first week of October. 

It was a balmy, early Tuesday morning when Hannah bounded down the staircase from her dorms to the foyer, whistling REM’s “Shiny Happy People,” when a note stuck in her throat at the sight of Min waiting for her on a bench. Austin had been up to visit the previous weekend, and had said nothing about his publicist visiting her before he departed Sunday. She started to open her mouth, and Min motioned for her to follow as she led Hannah back to what was usually her counselor’s office.

“James, is it? Said I could use his office.” Hannah nodded, and watched with horror as Min unfurled several tabloids in front of Hannah with the previous days’ date on them. There, on the front, were photos of her and Austin: kissing, walking, holding hands, at the hotel and then saying goodbye at the front of the Golden Key’s main building. The headline read “Butler’s Romance with Downey’s Junkie Jailbird.”

“Fuckkkk… what the fuck Min?”

“Someone tipped off the paparazzi. Either someone who saw you at the hotel, or walking around this charming institution. Doesn’t matter who, at this point, it’s out there. And they have the whole story, your name, the details of the arrest, everything.”

Hannah gulped, flipping through the pages and gasping in horror as she found the double-page spread with photos someone had taken driving by the arrest with her and Downey, next to her mug shot and a photo of her and Austin walking down the red carpet at US premiere of his last film, David Lynch’s Crazy at Heart. Min straightened her glasses, her deep Black skin somehow radiant even first thing in the morning, when Hannah imagined she must have woken up very early in order to drive or fly up from LA.

“Austin doesn’t know I’m here. And I think we both know that boy is like a Labrador retriever. He will not do the smart thing, he will be loyal, he will not break up with you. But he must. You are a liability to his career. I cannot stress that enough. I’m sorry, I have to say it as it is. Bob is not getting any offers, and he was nominated for an Oscar, because he can not get insurance coverage until he finishes treatment and stays out of trouble for at least a year, I not more. His career may very well be over…  I begged Austin, BEGGED him, not to have you walk down the carpet last year, to keep his private life private, but did he listen? No. And I, foolishly, didn’t put my foot down, because it didn’t really matter, did it? Who cares if an actor dates a random normal person, it’s not as fun to read about as two celebrities dating, so the gossip mongers have pretty much left you two alone. No one ever saw this photo from then red carpet before, it was all they cared about were pictures of him with Laura Dern or Lynch. Even with the arrest, all eyes were on Downey. You were literally cut out of the photos so the papers could get a better close up framing Downer with the cops. And with your plea deal, we managed to keep you under the radar. But now, the only way to make this go away is to stop providing them fodder and distract them with something new.”

Hannah met Min’s eyes, confused, as she sat down, and Min followed suit, perching on the edge of the chair across from Hannah.

“Just tell me what to do. Like a statement that we aren’t involved.”

“What? Actually comment on this? God no. No. It just needs to stop. You need to break it off, and then I will  set him up with some very public dates. Maybe with some of his costars from Jagger, like Halle Berry, Rosie Perez, Christie Brinkley, they played his main love interests….” Hannah nodded, and then Min reached over and put her hand over Hannah’s and squeezed it. “You know, Hannah, if you want to be truly happy, though, you should just pull off the band aid and really break up with him today. While you’re in here, safe from temptation, and cared for, where you can heal. Actors should date other famous people, who know what this lifestyle is. This thing, its never going to work long term. Look at you, dear, are you better or worse off after doing this tango with Austin on and off for four years? Dating someone famous, its extremely difficult….  its like a swan dating a rat, he should be with another swan…”

Hannah pulled her hand back, brow furrowed.

“So I’m a rat now?”

Min breathed deeply.

“I was trying to emphasize difference. He’s above-the-line talent, you’re below-the-line crew. He grew up with money, you didn’t and you are always going to worry whether you are enough, no matter what he says, or how much you trust him. You and Austin different species, that’s all I’m saying. If you are honest with yourself, you already know in your heart I’m right.” Min patted her own heart. “Look, you can do whatever you want. But dear, no one was interested in a story about a young woman going to rehab after getting arrested, not until they saw Austin up here, then someone told the paps and they started poking around. You need to look out for yourself. What is going to happen to you? And your career? If you stay together, I guarantee this is not the last time you’ll be in the tabloids. It’s the first. Of many. Either way, you need to convince him to stop coming up here to visit. To have public dates with a few famous women. The paps will loose interest and it will all blow over….. Unless you keep adding fuel to the fire. If this stops, you may still be able to salvage your reputation, there will be people who didn’t read this tabloid. But if the coverage continues, week after week as he visits, or when you come back, or if you relapse… at some point, things that normal people get to keep private will come out, and it’s possible Variety or the LA Times will do a story on you guys.”

Hannah nodded, starting at her fingers in concentration. She knew what she had to do.

October 15, 1991

The drive back down to Los Angeles was long, and Avi was silent, giving his daughter the room she needed to be with her thoughts as she mentally prepared for her new life, her clean life, life after rehab. Hannah sighed. Ugh, its worse than being 18…. I’m a single, unemployed 28 year old loser. She pulled in one of Austin’s hoodies she had kept after a visit, wallowing in the melancholy that washed over her. 

Austin had become irate when she broke up with him over the phone in her counselor’s office the day Min visited her three weeks ago…

“Are you fucking serious? Because of some tabloid bull shit? You know I don’t care. Fame doesn’t fucking interest me, I just want to be with you, work with great people and make art. ”

“But, Austin, being famous gives you the profile do that  —“

“Sure, but so you take the good with the bad. You know that, you grew up in this business.”

“And look at how fucked up I am. Plus, its not like the paparazzi chase after editors, Austin, that is definitely a bonus from dating you …”

“You think I like them? Those people are parasites… they are the SCUM of the earth, I cannot believe you are letting them control your life—”

“Austin, I am not LETTING them do anything, I am just trying to live life on life’s terms, one day at a day—“

“Don’t you dare start throwing those AA cliches at ME, Hannah. At least be real. We love each other. Nothing else matters. You’re just hurt and scared and you’re reacting like a baby…”

“NA cliches, please, if you are gonna insult me at least be accurate… look it doesn’t matter….  You re not being fair… I AM trying to be real. You know what’s real? I don’t have a job lined up. In this business, you are only as good as your next job, and this type of stuff might make it impossible—”

“So what? You don’t need a job, Just come live with me. I’ll take care of you …”

“Do you know how demoralizing it is for you to talk to me like that? As if I haven’t been working like a dog for the last seven years to get where I am? Let alone how bad just sitting around your house waiting for you to come home and fuck me would be for my recovery? The tabloids, the paparazzi, they aren’t the problem. They’re a symptom of the real problem, which is how incompatible we are. You’re a swan, and I am a rat, we are defying the laws of nature—”

Austin growled. “Are you high right now? They should give you a drug test. You sound ridiculous. I literally don’t even know what that means with the swan and the rat. Ugh! You are being so stupid. You always do this, you get stuck on how I’m a ‘movie star,’ and then you blow it out of proportion because you are insecure and stubborn. Most woman would be overjoyed to have someone offer to support them while they figure out their shit. And work through this together.” 

“Austin, you don’t get it, and I can’t do this, we’re talking in circles… look, my sponsor told me not to date anyone for my first year sober, and I completely ignored her. But clearly I was wrong, because this whole thing is a trigger for me, you are a trigger. We have too much baggage, from before, from now. I love you, I love you so much…” tears started to well up in Hannah’s eyes, and her voice wavered. “But love isn’t enough and I have to put myself first.”

The sound of her sobs made Austin even angrier. “No. The answer is NO. I’m not letting you do this. We are not breaking up, you are being hysterical.” Her sobs got louder, and Austin sighed, running his hand through his hair and tried to calm down. He could almost see Hannah’s pale face becoming blotchy and red and wet as she cried. It was beautiful and ugly and he couldn’t bear it. “Oh Banana, look, you’re upset. We can’t have this conversation over the phone. I’m gonna get in my car and drive up right now.”

“NO! No, Austin, no, don’t come up here - they took those photos of you coming here, it might even be another resident here. Please, please, don’t come up.” She sniffed, wiping her eyes, breathing deeply to steady her voice. “Look, this isn’t up to you. You don’t get to let me do anything. It’s over. Do not come up here, do not call, do not try to see me. I’m taking you off the guest list. Can’t you understand? I need to do this for…. my recovery. I just need to be single and focus on staying clean.”

 “I canNOT fucking believe you are doing this, after everything. I have done nothing but support you getting sober. You can’t take me off the guest list, I PAID for that fucking rehab, did you know that? And now what do I get in return? Gratitude? NO. You’re fucking punishing me for staying with you. For getting ‘caught’ on camera being the good guy. Ugh!!!!” Austin had slammed down the phone and then paced the living room, punching the wall.  

Hannah collapsed on the desk sobbing, and when she calmed down and tried to look up, she would see the corny twelve step slogans framed on the wall and start crying again. Because part of her knew he was right, that it was unfair to use recovery as an excuse. But she was also convinced this was the best thing for both of them. Definitely for him. The fact that he had ended up paying for her rehab only solidified how wrong she was for him, how he deserved better. She’d had no idea, her lawyer Sheila had told her that her health insurance had covered it, but she had left all the details to Sheila. Who Austin had probably subsidized as well, once she started to think about it, realizing how little the legal invoice had been. She hadn’t even questioned that at the time. You’re a fucking idiot. And so is he, I wish he had kept his fucking money to himself and let me go to whatever shit hole the Motion Picture Health & Welfare insurance would have covered. 

Sitting n her father’s Honda, Hannah pulled the collar of Austin’s hoody tight, letting the faint smell of his cologne comfort her. The break up conversation felt so fresh it could have been yesterday instead of three weeks ago, probably because she replayed it over and over again in her head. The intervening days had gone by in a blur, going through the motions of putting on a brave face, finishing her phrase three preparations, doing whatever she had to do and saying whatever she had to say so she could leave. She’d have to be careful, she knew now that because Austin had paid for her stay, he probably knew he was out, and his house was only 15 minutes down the coast from her father’s mobile home community. That is the first thing, figure out a new place to live.

Avi gave her a soft, sweet look as he unloaded her luggage. “You look like you could use a cup of tea, Noodle. And perhaps a meeting.” Hannah smiled weakly, her heart breaking as she considered how much it probably hurt her father to see her like this, how worried he probably had been after the arrest. 

“Yeah pop.” She jumped out of the car, and took the other suitcases out of the trunk, following Avi into the trailer.

October 31, 1991

Playboy Mansion Halloween Party

The sound of the waterfall broke up the cocktail chatter as Austin felt the ice cube in his glass hit his teeth, the smooth whiskey warming his throat as he gulped it down. He pulled on his white silk tie, straightening it over his pink dress shirt. He ran his fingers through his long blonde hair, and looked over at Emilio chatting with a Latinx bunny in a cute Kelly green corset with matching bunny ears. He rolled his eyes as Emilio asked her flirty questions, using is had to wave  her over to him and pointing in his empty glass.

“Alma, is it? Keep ‘em coming, okay sweetheart?”

Emilio shook his head in mock disgust. They’d met on the set of Austin’s first movie in 1988,  he’d played a the main villain, a frat boy that Estevez’s character was investigating for murder. The Playboy Mansion wasn’t really Austin’s scene, but Emilio and Rick, a producer they both knew, had invited him and he pushed himself to get out of his house and come mingle. It was hard to distinguish the bunnies from the starlets and aspiring actresses dressed up for the Playboy Halloween Party in some sort of costume that involved a corset with heels. There was corset Wonder Woman, corset black cat, corset witches, was that a corset cow girl?

An hour or so later, he was mindlessly nodding in conversation with his friend Rick, Rosie Perez, who had  played the role of Jagger’s first wife, and a few bunnies whose names he didn’t really catch when he felt a strong hand slap his back, and turned to see Keanu Reeves behind him. 

“Butler,” he said, softly, and Austin turned to shake his hand as Keanu’s arm lingered around his shoulder. His smile was open, vulnerable, but there was a mystery in his stoic eyes. “So, still knee deep in the editing bay?” Keanu grinned, then stepped aside to grab a glass of champagne from a waiter walking by.

“What?” Austin sipped his own drink, watching as Keanu lit a cigarette.

“You’re girl, I met her on Point Break, she here with you?”

“Oh right,” Austin emptied his glass and slammed it down, looking around for a waiter or bunny, suddenly very very thirsty. He had only met Keanu in passing at aa few events, and had been so preoccupied with his own film project he hadn’t really paid much thought to Hannah’s work over the last year.  “Yeah, we actually just split last month…” 

Keanu blew cigarette smoke up into the air, shaking his head. “There was something about her, man, those tits, am I right?” 

Austin frowned, then pushed Keanu lightly in the chest. “Hey man.”

Keanu’s eyes narrowed, and a dry smirk formed across his lips. “Yeah, no I get it. Must have been some good snatch if you’re still hung up on her. Tell me, did the curtains match the drapes?” Waggling his eyebrows, his voice was dry, sincere and earnest, Keanu’s grin widened as Austin pulled back his fist and jabbed him in the face, his dark hair flopping as he staggered back, laughing, as he lunged forward and landed an uppercut in Austin’s chest. Seconds later Austin was pulling him down on the ground, and they rolled on top of each other needing, kicking each other until Austin landed over him, and was about to pummel him again when the strong arms of security guards pulled him off and escorted them both out of the party. 

Standing at the front of the mansion’s gothic Tudor front building, Austin rubbed his chest as he waited for the valet to bring his car around, he looked to his side as Keanu stood there, wiping the blood from his cracked lip.  Keanu laughed, and went toward a black Porsche that was being brought around.

“Hey Austin, I’m sorry man, I was just fucking with you. I’m in a weird head space tonight, c’mon, let me make it up to you. I know just what you need.”

“What about my car?”

“Leave it, it’ll be here in the morning. “

Still buzzed, even though the fight had sobered him up, Austin shrugged and thought to himself, why the fuck not, as he leaned to sit passenger seat next to Keanu and they roared off down the hills toward Sunset.

Keanu lit another cigarette, and tapped a speed dial on his car phone.

“Hey, Polly? Hey it’s Josey Wells,” he winked at Austin, and whispered, “code name,” grinning at Austin’s confusion. “Yeah, hey, yeah, I’m wondering if its too late to put in an order for the night? Yeah. Something red, and thick. Mhmmm. Yeah, that’s the one. Send it to my house.”

Austin sat back, and rolled down the window, watching as they winded down Sunset toward the ocean.

Walking towards Keanu’s front door, Austin took in the collection of motorcycles in his garage. They were in a canyon in Malibu, up above the Pacific Coast with a view of the ocean.

“You know I live just down the road, I shoulda followed you…. So, you gonna keep me in suspense or what?”

Turning on lights, Keanu walked to his bar and poured them both drinks. 

“You know, I’ve been in love. I know what it is to have your heart broken. Bad. Like where it hurts just to think about her. I can see it in your eyes, amigo.”

Austin drained his glass, tilting his head back he closed his eyes as he breathed deeply, and unbuttoned the top of his shirt, loosening his tie. He took his white sport’s jacket off and draped it over a chair. Turning to Keanu, he pursed his lips, jaw tensing. “OK, so?”

“Well, the best way to get over someone is to —”

“Start seeing someone else. Yeah, I’ve heard from all my friends. Problem is, I don’t want to date anyone else.”

Keanu walked to his fridge, and grabbed a bag of frozen peas, which he placed over his face as after he lay down on his couch. Austin followed, listening to Keanu’s dry voice emanate through the peas.

“Exactly. Which is why the best way, the actual best way to get over someone, is to find a hooker who looks just like ‘em, work out all your issues through sex. It’s very cathartic, trust me.”

Austin’s sullen face transformed to a bright beaming grin, his cheeks squeezing up as he exploded in laughter.

“You cannot be serious.” Austin’s bottom lip hung down in disbelief.

Keanu looked up from the bag of peas at Austin, who was now sitting in a leather chair across from him

“Hmmm… just wait, she’ll be here any minute. Trust me, Polly Fleissman is the best madam in this town. First one’s on me.”

Austin stroked his chin with his right thumb and forefinger. “How much is it?”

Keanu grinned like a giddy school boy, “S’ $1500 a night… and worth every penny.”

It was midnight when Keanu ushered in a white, red headed woman with curly hair, about the same height as Hannah, plump and voluptuous. It distinctly was not Hannah, but he would have done a double take passing her on the street. The tell was how clean cut she looked in a simple, expensive beige drape halter dress, and her sexy, confident voice, greeting them, introducing herself as “Jacqueline, but you can call me whatever you like.” Welcomed her in, offered her a drink, and the pulled out a small bag of white pills from his pocket, and held it up, jiggling the pills.

“I got some mitsubishis, what do you guys say, wanna party?”

Jacqui smiled, and stuck out her tongue. 30 minutes later, they were rolling, Austin’s skin was tingling, sweat lined his brow, and he kept swallowing. Keanu had put some low house music on, and Jacqui came to perch on Austin’s lap, her hands caressing his face, wiping the sweat from his brow, as his hands moved down her body and under her skirt, just the touch of her skin made the blood rush to his cock, he pulled on her red curls with his other hand, telling her how she was the most beautiful girl in the world, how he loved her, as she giggled, and kissed his neck, her hand moving to his pants and finding the outline of his erection. Stroking it, she whispered, “Does that feel good baby?” Austin nodded, looking into her eyes, then looking up as Keanu joined them, his own hands settling over Jacqui’s neck. He winked at Austin.

“I think we’d be more comfortable in the bed room, eh?”

Jacqui stood up, taking Austin by the hand, they followed Keanu together into a dimly lit master bedroom, the walls were a light grey, and the bed was a dark metal, very modern, with black sheets, pillows, blankets. Shirt off, Keanu stalked to Austin, and put his bar arm around Austin’s shoulder, messaging his neck was they watched Jacqui undress. Keanu’s hands stroked the back of Austin’s neck, and he leaned into, groaning, he felt like Keanu fingers were drawing out all the negative energy in his body, in his brain, replacing it with golden light that was making his skin glow. Looking over at Keanu, it looked like his pale, white body was gleaming with an otherworldly iridescence.

“Keanu, fuck, I love you man, I think you’re my best friend.”

Keanu’s hands moved from Austin’s neck and snaked around his chest as his chin pushed into the top of Austin’s shoulder, a low chuckle on Austin’s ear as he pulled into him. 

“I think the e has kicked in… so, AB, ever been to a Hawaiian pig roast?” 

Austin turned to Keanu’s cheek, shaking his head.

“No? Well I’m gonna show you how to skewer a live one from both sides.” Keanu winked, and kissed Austin roughly on the cheek, thens stepping back towards the bed. Jacqui giggled as Keanu beckoned her to him, his long nose dipped down to nuzzle her bare heaving breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra, just beige lacy panties, and her alabaster skin shone in the dim light. Completely uninhibited, Austin couldn’t get his clothes off soon enough. He watched with an open mouth was Keanu dipped down, slowly removing Jacqui’s underwear, then looking over at him as he unbuckled his belt, pulled down his pants to reveal his thick, stiff manhood, then jumping on the bed, scooting back towards the headboard and beckoning Jacqui to follow with his finger. She turned to look at Austin, smiling, her breasts bouncing as she climbed on the bed with Keanu. 

“Coming?” She giggled.

Austin’s long, blonde hair swayed as he nodded, watching as Jacqui’s ass lifted up in the air while she leaned down to suck Keanu’s cock. In that moment, Austin eagerly followed, watching as Keanu’s raven hair hit the bed frame when the actor leaned back, eyes squeezed shut, uncontrollably biting his lower lip as Jacqui’s head bobbed up and down on his length. Austin rested his hands over the roundness of Jacqui’s bottom, kissing her right cheek as his left hand took hold of the other.

“You sure this is ok with you?” His voice wavered, his blue eyes met Keanu’s as he grinned, pulling on the mess of curls above Jacqui’s head for her to pause.

“It ok with you if my friend there roasts you from the other end?”

Jacqui grinned, and turned her head over her shoulder. 

“Such a gentleman… hmmmhmmm… I think I can take it, big boy. Let me make you feel good.” Austin laughed, it was cliche, but high, every word was a sweet sensation and he went for it. Her skin was electric, and he bent his lips down below her cheeks to find her entrance, kissing at her lips, which he noted were waxed, bare, silky smooth, unlike Hannah’s wild mane, and his tongue sought out her clit easily between the soft, manicured folds, moving up and down as her body rocked with the rhythm of her mouth gliding up and down Keanu’s dick. The breathy sound of a feminine groan joined Keanu’s murmurs of “fuck” and “take it” and “oh my god this feels amazing….”  Austin moved one finger, and then another inside of Jacqui, messaging her open and searching for her pleasure point as his tongue flicked over her nub, smiling into her and pulling her ass up as he felt her twitch under him. It was not long before Jacqui cried out, and Austin was pulling his lips off her, and straddling her from behind, thrusting in and out of her pussy, slowly at first, the sensation heightened by the ecstasy, the excitement of the threesome, and the way her body and the bouncing mess of red hair conjured up his intense longing to be with Hannah again. 

Keanu looked at him over Jacqui’s writhing body between them, Austin’s lips puckered in an growl as he rolled in and out of her.

“Who ever whips his cream first has to pay for the pizza,” Keanu grinned, his eyes narrowing, and Austin chuckled, happy for the distraction because he was just on the edge, and Keanu’s conversation jarred his attention. He slowed down his pacing, and looked at Keanu, shaking his head.

“Man, you are crazy.” That night Keanu paid for the hooker, Austin paid for the pizza. But Polly Fleissman, the Hollywood Madam, would soon begin to get a steady stream of revenue for her services from Austin.

The next time Austin fucked Jacqui they were alone in a suite at the Chateau Marmont during what would become regular Thursday night consensual role playing sessions. Calling her Red, he would take out his frustrations with Hannah as he pummeled into the prostitute from behind, talking in a low, gravelly voice as he thrust into her, slapping her ass, pulling her shoulders, holding her head down into the pillow.

“Do you feel that? You fucking bitch. That’s how much I fucking love you… how could you do this to me. To us.” Austin groaned. The release as he came inside Jacqui was immediate. Addictive. And never fulfilling as it was with Hannah. Austin missed her brown eyes, innocently looking up at him, her voice teasing but her body and movements untrained, completely charming in how awkward or stilted she was. He missed that moment, with Hannah, when he could see her expression change, from being guarded to the moment she gave up her pretenses and opened up for him, her eyes filled with pure adoration. Austin couldn’t bare to look Jacqui in her eyes, at least not while her fucked her, especially with the degrading way he usually spoke to her.  Jacqui was not shy, and she never blushed when she undressed, making sounds of approval whether Austin railed her aggressively until the sound of him slapping into her cracked through the suite, or whether he licked her soft and tenderly.

He paid double to have her visit him on Thanksgiving, having her suck his dick, and then, for a change, Austin motioned for her to get on top. Was their rocking motion increased, he put his hands around her neck, lightly choking her, calling her a selfish bitch, and then ordering Jacqui to punch him and tell him what a bastard he was. 

“Tell me.” His right squeezed tighter around her neck, and his left hand pulling on her red curls and then tracing down her back to slap her ass, his biceps flexing as he grasped her up and down faster towards his chisled abdomen. “Tell me, tell me I am a spoiled, mediocre yuppie, a hack, a fraud, an empty vessel with no. creative. talent. TELL ME. Tell me you hate me!”

Jacqui’s face darkened, and then she repeated the list back to him in a condescending lilt, her performance somewhat contrived, a watered down rendition of a melodramatic scene from Dallas or Dynasty. Then she punched him, soundly smashing her right fist into his left eye socket and Austin came shortly after, groaning out like a man possessed being exorcized from his demons. As soon as he was sated, he was pushing her off him, looking ahead as he stalked off to the bathroom and dismissing Jacqui with a “You can go now,” without looking back. Sitting on the toilet, head in his hands, he wept and swore he was done with this. No more. But then the next Thursday, he would find himself back in his regular suite, fucking Jacqui into the wall from behind while he whispered all of Hannah’s character defects in her ear. 

Austin spent November and December distracting himself from his the gnawing need to find Hannah, throw her over his shoulder and head for a secluded cabin somewhere remote where he could have the space and quiet and solitude to make her understand that they could be happy and good and healthy together. They needed to be together He knew it would be different if he could just talk with her in person, but he felt guilty for the way he had acted when they broke up. The way he belittled her recovery. Her career. The way he threw his payment for her rehab in her face. The only person he trusted to talk about this stuff with was his sister, Ashley, and she convinced him to leave Hannah alone for a few months, give her some space to get back on her feet, and possibly forget the way he had  hurt her over the phone to retaliate for the way her decision had pierced him, seemingly coming out of nowhere, and to Austin, making no sense.

So, inside of kidnapping his ex girlfriend, Austin fucked a high-end prostitute that looked like Hannah and focused on work. He met with his agent Brett to look over scripts for his next project, finished up final voice over for Jagger and mapped out his promotion schedule for the film with his assistant, Alex.  Humoring Min, Austin went out to several parties and events with dates she arranged for him, taking Halle Berry to the premiere of Cape Fear, Richard Gere and Cindy Crawford’s wedding, and planning to take her to the premiere of their film the week before it was released nationwide on Christmas.

Alex was also under a strict Hannah assignment to update Austin on her whereabouts, to the extent that he was able to. Sometimes, late at night, relaxed driving home from a meeting at the Chateau, Austin would drive by the trailer park at Point Dume, circle around the nearby grocery stores and coffee shops on the off chance that he might catch a glimpse of Hannah from afar, but he never did. So, he bided his time, checking in with Alex daily for any news.

December 26, 1991

Westwood Beach, Malibu, CA

Tide was out, and the slow rhythm of the small waves lapped up Hannah’s shins, leaving her legs cool and wet and sinking into the sand below them. She sat at the shore, hands under her thighs, looking out at the infinite expanse of the sea. The waves grew in size, and she sat there, waiting for one large enough to knock her down so her head was under the water, the salt water enveloping her. She willed the waves to wash her away into the night, staying under water until she couldn’t take it anymore, before finally jumping up and screaming at the moon. As a teenager, she would sneak down here at night to smoke pot, fantasizing that the golden reflection of the moon on the silvery waves was a faery path that would take her up into the sky, away from the dismal mortal life she inhabited on earth. Back then, the worst thing in her life was AP Bio and her unrequited crush on Rick Schlessinger, the object of much angst-ridden poetry written while sitting on the beach, smoking cloves and summoning all the pain her sixteen year old self could muster. That seemed like a cake walk compared to today. 

She had quit smoking when she got home, Avi hated it. Her father was a quiet man, when he wasn’t working as a sound editor in town, she would find him on the sofa in their small trailer overlooking the bluffs, reading science fiction next to a pot of tea and a stack of chocolate dipped biscuits. However, he did turn to her two days after she moved in and explain that he would rather see her doing heroin again than smoking cigarettes. Hurt, indignant, but also humbled by the very real need to save her money and live back at home, Hannah kept her mouth shut and quit smoking. Avi’s quiet British sarcasm was all it took. Apart from that, they got along, and her father reverted to his den mothering ways, cooking dinner most nights and queuing up classic movies on the VCR for them to watch and analyze as they ate. Their love language was film criticism, it was the main vehicle for most of their meaningful conversations. 

Hannah spent her days pounding the pavement, and looking for work. She visited some of her friends from college, reached out to a few directors she had worked with, saw her uncle Abe, the executive at Paramount, and the reoccurring feedback she got was  to lay low for a few months, let the tabloid story recede, and then she would get some traction. In the meantime, she found a job in Vancouver, a Canadian friend from college had started a company editing for the new booming television industry up there that took advantage of those sweet sweet Canuck media tax breaks. She was set to leave for Vancouver in three days.

Hannah had flown up to Vancouver in early November, got the job, and started making her arrangements to leave. Then, a week later, she noticed that her breasts were more sensitive than usual, and gasped when she realized she hadn’t had her period in a while. Like, a while a while. Hannah was not one for tracking her cycle, she didn’t keep a calendar, she was on the pill so she didn’t worry too much. But the minute the thought crossed her mind she knew, she knew before she drove to the drug store and bought the test. She knew before she handed the test to Robin a waited for her friend to read her the result. She knew because she hadn’t bought tampons since she got home from rehab. According to her gynecologist, she was eight weeks pregnant when she found out in mid-November. Since then, Hannah had been in a holding pattern, avoiding dealing with this new reality in any meaningful way. Her sponsor had lectured her to tell Austin, no matter what her decision was, she was supposed to be living a new, honest life, and she shouldn’t try to manage his emotions or reality by keeping it from him. But she couldn’t bare to call him. The OB went over her choices with her, it was 1991, not 1961, but cautioning her that she really needed to make her decision before the end of her third trimester. Just like she had known she was pregnant, Hannah had already known what her decision was. 

“So,” Robin asked, at brunch with Hannah and their other friend, Sarah the Sunday before Thanksgiving. “ I thought you were pro-choice… we just signed up to campaign for Bill Clinton….”

Theoretically, Hannah had always thought that if she got pregnant before she was ready, or not in a committed relationship, she would just have an abortion. But theory didn’t take into account how she actually felt when it actually happened in actual real life. What Hannah really wanted was a time machine to go back and not get pregnant at all. She knew she couldn’t go through with an abortion, and but she was terrified of having a baby. 

“I am pro-choice. Emphasis on choice, Robin. Fuck…. You know I promised Avi when I was 15…”

Robin gasped.

“What do you mean you promised your dad when you were 15? That you would never have an abortion?”

Hannah nodded. “Yeah, it was the only sex talk we ever had. Driving a long PCH one day, he turned to me and told me if I ever got pregnant, he would raise the baby. I guess Georgie had two secret abortions when she was a teenager. The women in my family ….we are pretty fertile, I guess… I managed to somehow get knocked up on birth control…”

Robin shivered.

“Anyway,” Hannah continued. “My mom didn’t tell him until years later. She always regretted it. He always regretted it. Also, apparently a psychic once told my father she saw more children in his future…”

Sarah chimed in, “Well of course we’ll support—”

“Wait, you feel like because some psychic told your father —” Sarah slapped Robin. “I mean, yes, of course we will support you. And if you want to keep working, well, Austin just gonna have to shell out some of that movie star money for a nanny…”

Hannah sighed, picking apart the paper straw wrapper on the table. “I don’t know if that is exactly the approach I want to take when I tell him… I don’t want him to think I’m using this to get something from him… I need to be able to support myself, no matter what. I mean, obviously I need to tell him…”

But she hadn’t, and now she was at 14 weeks, and moving to Canada for work. In three days. But it was only for four months on a new TV series based on the Highlander movie. So, in theory, she could go work this job, come back at seven months pregnant and then have the baby here in LA. Maybe even pick up another job before the baby came. How hard could it be, she was already sitting down all day anyway? And what about after that? Where is your theory then? Fuck fuck fuck a duck.

“Stop being a pussy and just bite the bullet.” She said out loud. “Just call Austin.” 

Wet and shivering in the cold (for California) January air, Hannah felt the nervousness in her chest tingle and move to the top of her shoulders. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”

Walking back up the hill from the beach to Avi’s mobile home, Hannah looked down at her waist, her swimsuit under an oversized Les Mis shirt Austin bought her in London. She didn’t really look pregnant yet, the bottom of her belly hadn’t started to bend upward and expand. Her ankles looked thicker, but if you didn’t look at them every day, you probably wouldn’t know.

The longer Hannah put off calling Austin, the more awkward the prospect came, and she found herself flying off to Vancouver without calling him.

taglist @powerofelvis ​ @woundmetender ​ @slowsweetlove ​ @xstrengthxinxtragedyx ​ @cryingabtab ​ @whositmcwhatsit @artlover8992 @crash-and-cure @daffieapple @eliseinmemphis

[starklyscifi]

Cursed By The Blood

(a flash fiction story by EJ Stark, for @flashfictionfridayofficial's prompt "blood is thicker than water")

CN: death

Great Aunt Ida’s death was the best thing that ever happened to her. At the funeral, Emma made a long-winded speech about the best moments of her young life, sitting in great Aunt Ida’s living room, drinking bitter coffee, listening to Ida tell her stories. 

Emma’s mother did not appreciate the “best moments of her life” line. 

Emma did not care. It was a lie anyway. 

Her best memories were the moments in between. Driving her 1991 blue Volvo down the highway with her fingers out the window. Stopping at the gas station and putting too many creamers into a cup of bad coffee. Sitting in the public park behind the old elementary school for five minutes of blissful freedom.  

Ida left all $30,000 of her life savings to Emma. 

And she was nice enough to die just after Emma had finished her online college degree. Her mother insisted she do a remote degree rather than moving away. So the day the bank transfer came through with her inheritance, Emma paid six months rent up front for an apartment in the mid-sized city two hours away, where everyone went to do their monthly Target run and packed a suitcase. Even her family’s methods couldn’t convince Target to come to a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. 

She left. After burning everything else she used to own on the lawn, leaving a giant scorch mark for her mother to come home to. 

The apartment was damp and dark. Emma stopped using the harsh overhead light. She bought a lamp at Goodwill that made a disturbing crackling noise every time she turned it on. She turned the lamp on early tonight as a storm rolled in. 

She hunched over her laptop. The rain intensified, pounding on the window so hard she couldn’t hear the knocking until it let up. 

The knocking didn’t go away. 

Opening the door, she wished the rain had kept up. 

Her mother was standing in the hallway, dripping water onto the stained carpeting. She stared at Emma. Emma stared back. 

“Don’t you dare close that door in my face.” 

The old woman down the hall, the one that Emma was sure had called the landlord and complained about Emma making too much noise, cracked her door open. 

“Then I guess you’d better come in.” 

They continued to stare at each other. Emma from the broken chair and her mother from the only couch cushion that didn’t have a mystery stain on it. 

“I see you’re still running from your responsibilities.” 

Emma folded her arms. “I don’t think I should have to pay for decisions made before I was born.” 

“How is your abysmal minimum wage service job?” her mother asked, eyeing the Facebook Marketplace chair, missing a leg and currently propped up with the pile of books Emma had brought with her. 

This is what happened when you came from this type of family. She knew what really lived in the woods, how to summon it, how to keep it out. But she was terrified of customer service. So she hunched herself over her computer, her spine rounding like a shrimp’s, desperate for a remote job. Punching keys and inputting numbers in exchange for her rent. 

All she had to show was two months of rejection letters. 

No. 

No. 

No. 

She was convinced no one would ever say yes to her unless they were terrified of her family’s connection to “the land.” That was what the locals called it. She knew what they meant by “land” even if they didn’t.  

She’d been down with her mother to the deep, dark place in the forest. She had looked long through the trees and seen what was really growing in the mountains so ancient they predated the seas. 

“I won’t come back. I never wanted to stay in that town. So carry on with your shit and leave me to mine.” 

“Being born into this family comes at a cost.” 

The rain continued. Emma worried slightly that the window would break, shattering into a million pieces that would never come out of the carpet, no matter how much she vacuumed. 

“Nothing bad is going to happen because I was a little independent.” 

“The town will rot into what it was before us.” 

Emma looked her mother straight in the eyes. 

“Then let it rot.” 

Her mother had realized twenty minutes ago that her daughter wasn’t going anywhere. Emma had realized that her mother would realize her daughter wasn’t going anywhere the moment she opened the door.  

So when her mother tried to get off the couch and couldn’t, Emma smiled. 

“Having trouble, Mother?” 

“There is a price for this,” her mother hissed. 

Emma leaned forward and whispered, “I know.” 

Her mother continued to struggle, the hidden bundle under the couch sucking the life out of her. Emma knew her mother would only sit on the cushion without the stains. 

The bundle had sat under that cushion for three weeks. Ever since the day Emma realized she would have to completely cut ties with her family and everything they were attached to. 

She looked away as the skin on her mother’s hands flaked off and her eyes went glassy and still. 

The rain disappeared. The Goodwill lamp flickered and died. Moonlight pooled on the carpet. 

A shadowy figure existed on the other end of the couch. It had always existed in that spot. A tiny part of her brain tried to protest that fact, but it was wrong. 

“We’re even now,” she said. 

The figure smiled. “What a child you are.” 

Emma sat up straighter, looking at the figure’s face, or where the face should have been. Her hands did not shake. “I know how to deal with things like you.” 

“When you deal with ancient things, you put yourself at their mercy.” 

“But the rules—”

The figure cackled and vanished. 

[berrypass-de-murdler]

42. The Return of the Coffee Shop Killer

7 more episodes to write, and a LOT more to post flkmvdfvmldksf

Jesus I've made 102 posts?? That's not good.

Anywayyyy

(super good intro)

DON'T READ THE EPISODES UNTIL YOU'VE FINISHED THE FIRST BOOK!!

Logi sniggers a whole ton.

LOGICO: I know an OCCULT PLACE… IRRATINO: CULT? PLACE? WHERE?? LOGICO: [snorting] It’s a MYSTERIOUS coffee shop with SUPERNATURAL properties… IRRATINO: OH MY GOD OH MY GOD [adhd noises] WHERE IS IT?! LOGICO: [cackles] RIGHT THIS WAY…

He takes him to Coffee’s Shop. Lapis and Rose (NOT STEVEN UNIVERSE) have come for a visit, and they’re greeted by that Coffee man.

COFFEE: Logico! My favourite person, how are you? LOGICO: Oh, you know, the NORMAL CRIMES!  IRRATINO: What’s the paranormal stuff? LOGICO: You’ll see… IRRATINO: Is it that? [points to a body] LOGICO: Well shit on a tombstone. ROSE: Another ‘murder’, Logico? HA! HA! HA! HA! HA!

For the investigation, Irra stares intently into a coffee mug the entire time.

IRRATINO: This place needs better filters. LOGICO: Thanks for the input.

Not much happens, and they find the killer. Coffee is banned from his own shop (finally), the worst punishment he’s ever received for a murder.

IRRATINO: Wait a second. What’s so occult about this place?? LOGICO: Their drip coffee is divine and their lattes are magical.

Irratino quickly chugs an entire latte in one swig.

IRRATINO: [pant pant] Agreed. BUUT I don’t know if it qualifies for the million. LOGICO: Oh, now that it’ll cost you, you’re a skeptic! [ironic music cue] … Wait. You still have the money? Can I have it? IRRATINO: AHH-

The end!

Jesus Irratino calm down

Omg is that baby logico!!!!

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

[catholicism-connoiseur]

"And lo, came a sign"

So lately I've been remarkably unemployed and unremarkably depressed. Been an eventful few months emotionally and mentally speaking, and between that and new medication, I've been in a slightly bizarre headspace at times. However, recently, I've been attending regular therapy, and after one such session, I found myself at a loss for something to do whilst still in town. Bars not open yet, friends either off for the day or still in work for another few hours, and I'd already had myself some of the only decent coffee in town.

And so I think to myself; "What's the most fun a girl can have on a budget?"

And lo, came a sign: St. Peters Roman Catholic church, in all its 19th century French Gothic glory. I entered the church's lofty doorway to take brief shelter in its comparative warmth. Notably, this wasn't the first time I had stopped into the church. What with the state of the modern economy and the greed of corporate capitalism, it is increasingly difficult to leave the house without spending money on some product, amenity or service, if even for the simple pleasure of sitting down someplace. Drogheda's meagre few and underfunded free public services compile a rather short list, so the litany of churches to which entry and perusal costs nothing becomes a more appealing option to pass time.

This time though, I happened upon the church at an opportune time. Turns out, Wednesday is St. Peter's day for confession, that ever-sought-after absolution of sin and wrongdoing. As my current belief system does not revolve around the rotting guilt that Catholicism so often stitches seamlessly to one's psyche, the procedure and philosophy of confessing one's "sins" to an oh-so-forgiving god is one not un-abhorret to me, but admittedly, and quite simply, I was curious. There is no such danger to the mind as a complete lack of doubt; blind faith in anything can be exactly that, and one can easily reject one staunch absolute for another. I wanted to experience that which I held such complex contempt for, to examine within myself whether it was justified and founded in an accurate representation of the practice.

So for the first time in my adult life, I sat in line for confession.

Upon entering the room, my first impression was genuine surprise. There was no booth. No conventional two-part stall in which one could discreetly absolve their burdens of sin. I was taken aback: to my mind, and through all media representation, the booth is a staple and arguably crucial part of the procedure!

To forego the anonymity of the booth was a shock I had little time to assess though, as I now sat across from the priest and had to look him in the eye (an encroachment I was not remotely prepared for) as I verbally fumbled for a reason to be there. I mumbled an ambiguous and vague misdeed, trying to balance a transgression that would feasibly warrant a 21st century lady such as myself going to confession with something I actually considered to be a moral "sin" in hopes to maintain a scrap of my wildly precarious integrity in the moment.

The priest, to his credit, maintained professionalism in the face of what was no doubt an unusual character for his line of work, and prescribed 5 Hail Mary's and 2 Our Father's: a reasonably indistinct penance for a similarly unclear sin. I promptly thanked him, muttered a "Peace be with you", silently questioned whether that was even standard protocol for confession, and left.

As I descended the time-softened steps of the church, I contemplated what I'd seen. Overwhelmingly, I felt that it would be a disservice to both my own piqued curiosity and to the potential for a uniquely funny personal project to abandon further analysis here. So I resolved to bring this to counsel from my friends and companions and gather their input on the matter.

And later that week, the plans were laid out.

[liliallowed]

Imagine if the player got bored or something and used Y/N as a vessel to flirt with Dust.

That would be so out of pocket.

hmmm. well that is a good idea but...

I was thinking something even more interesting.

I won't elaborate since that plotline is for my Thornbound souls fic but yeah I've had this idea before. just... with a plot twist or... two

in the meantime though enjoy this short little fic!

you were in the lion's den and one mistake could cost you your reset.

but you liked to gamble. going all in on a bet made your heart beat fast with excitement.

how good WAS your y/n impression actually? you were fairly confident you could mimick their behavior and personallity...

though... it would be even more natural to have the vessel be in full control... while you simply observed and felt things from their perspective. let them take the lead.

or maybe they would? as long as they made the same choices y/n would've made anyways, there was no distress in the soul and they'd be completely in sync and unrecognizable. but?

one missed heartbeat... a TINY BIT of indecisive behavior and they KNEW he'd pick that up on the MOMENT their soul studders.

they knew he had his senses hyperfixed on this humans pathetic mushy soul.

what did he see in them anyway?...

you sigh feeling a slight throb in you head but it disappeared the moment you open your eyes.

you can't help but notice a familiar hooded figure is watching you, his eyelights observing you silently.

🩶[close your eyes again and pretend to be sleeping so he'll go away. it's just a dream y/n you're still dreaming.]

"stop staring at me."

"... why are you still here... am I still dreaming?"

you close your eyes swiftly as you try to ignore the sound of your definitely NOT real paralysis demon strapping closer... closer...

he's right there you don't dare open your eyes you KNOW his face is only millimeters away from yours cuz you can FEEL his eyelights digging into your soul.

nope. you aren't seeing him. he's fake. you're just tired. he's not real. you just need to MOVE your hand and see if you can touch air.

... your hand... slips through the air. there's actually nothing there?

🩶[check]

you open your right eye squinting... nothing there.

you open the other one to get jumpscared by his face against.

🩶"EEP! "

[eye roll]

[stare into the void. maybe he'll go away???]

you let out a small scared squeak ducking under the comfort of your pillow... then look back.

yep. still there. still VERY MUCH THERE.

/your ears barely pick up the sound of a small chuckle./

/.../

/you're starting to see the appeal actually... this vessel is kinda adorable./

before you can make a choice however,

you find yourself glaring at the skeleton as you step out of bed, walking up to him with a stubborn face.

"why are you here?"

/huh... without input? they're pissed hehehehe./

"just checking up on you" he shrugged.

"don't you have some... demon thingy to catch or something." you mutter half heartedly.

"lost their trace. soooo knowing that freak YOU'RE the most likely person they'll cling onto"

/PFFFFT- *spits out coffee*/

/HOLY FUK... dude... dude I'm not sus. I swear./

"... I think I would KNOW if I'm possessed." you roll your eyes.

"I can tell" his grin sharpens.

"can you stop giving me vague threats!? I'm NOT GONNA... GO ON SOME DUMB... cosmic black hole time warping... WHATEVER THE HELL YOU SAID!" you glare at him.

"it's okay. take your time. either the mask slips or you're right and I'm just paranoid. the more we talk the more I'll get to... test your answers."

"you're fucking crazy."

"I know what I am."

🩶"just leave me alone... last thing I need is you telling me my choices aren't my own. FUCK off."

his sockets squint... as if he's looking for something in your stubborn face...

but... he doesn't find it.

he sighs.

"I'll look around again. DO NOT LEAVE . I WILL FIND YOU."

he warps away.

now was your chance to get out! yet... you feel inclined to stay. you don't want to leave-

stay??? why should you stay? HE KIDNAPPED YOU? why did you hang such a silly though+

*PING

a skeletal hand pulls at your soul TEARING it through the vessel.

"GOTCHA" he chuckled.

💔

GAME OVER.

[okamirayne]

Hello Rayne!

A bit more of a private one so of course, feel free to not answer if it crosses any boundaries.

Do you have tips to get adult life, day jobs and creative writing under one hat? (German saying, not sure if it translates to English at all lmao)

I've started my Bachelor's in a very non-creative field this week and it has been and is going to be very demanding in terms of time and energy. I've noticed that I get extremely drained and burnt out when I try to be creative after a long day. The ideas are there (sometimes even better than when I have more time) but the energy just... isn't.

I appreciate any advice you have and hope you're doing well! 💜 It's been cooling off here quite a bit, I've already had my first Chai today 👀🍵getting autumn-y

Heya lovely @sunlightrays!

A bit more of a private one so of course, feel free to not answer if it crosses any boundaries.

Aw, thanks for the head's up. Don't you worry, I'll go full dodge-ball acrobatic if I feel any uncomfortable curveballs thrown my way. As it stands, I'll do my best to offer support with my very humble input - PLEASE trash anything that doesn't resonate with you.

I've started my Bachelor's in a very non-creative field this week [...]

First off...

FAITO! Congratulations on taking on your Bachelor's degree (I recall you mentioning this was in the pipeline) - I'm wishing you every success for this chapter of your story, luv.

[...] and it has been and is going to be very demanding in terms of time and energy.

Gods, understandably. Please shore up on whatever you need; tea, coffee, the blood and tears of your enemies. You got this!

I've noticed that I get extremely drained and burnt out when I try to be creative after a long day. The ideas are there (sometimes even better than when I have more time) but the energy just... isn't. [...] I appreciate any advice you have ...

Right. I hear you. I'll do my damnedest to help -- but again, throw out anything that doesn't work for you. I'm spit-balling here, so just take what sticks.

How do you GET your energy? Would you consider yourself to be more extroverted or introverted? Maybe you're a combination of the two (ambivert)? Do you need alone time to refill your well, or do you require the energy of others to help recharge your battery?

What is FUN for you? What hobbies/downtime GIVE you energy?

What helps you to DECOMPRESS completely and switch off? Even if this isn't writing. Something that doesn't necessarily COST you energy (which writing does, even if it's a fun investment and pleasurable price) -- something where you are chilled, having fun, or resting...which brings me to...

What is REST for you? What is RECOVERY for you? What does that look like? What do you need to REST (which leads to recovery and hopefully more margin/capacity -- which allows for your empty well to accommodate creative energy again)?

What kind of WRITER are you? Do you fly by the seat of your pants and just enjoy rolling with whatever inspiration hits or do you like planning and plotting? Can you test the waters on a day you feel like you have some energy, and see how that leaves you feeling e.g. drained or lifted?

What I'm predominantly getting at here, is asking you to consider what GIVES you that energy back. What RESTORES to you the energy that isn't there (which your degree is currently consuming). I'm not sure what Bachelor's you're doing, so I won't and can't presume exactly what that costs you energy-wise (though it sounds like it costs you a lot, given what you described about feeling extremely drained and burnt-out).

I would advocate ENERGY RESTORATION. Which means, REST, RECOVERY, RECREATION, REMEDIAL PLAY. The light, easy, fun, restful, or joyful things that don't require you to invest too much of your energy. That can be alone or with others. It can be anything that works for you. It looks different for everyone, so it may take some experimentation or maybe you've got some go-to places, people, past-times or pleasures that are tried and tested?

This is where I'd start, sweetie. Looking to balance the scales by getting energy back so you don't end up in the flaming hell-pit of total burnout. The writing isn't going anywhere. It will wait for you to have the energy for it. Your degree will probably demand a lot of you right now, which is why sustenance for your creative energy (even if you have to stockpile it for a bit) is so important.

Do you have tips to get adult life, day jobs and creative writing under one hat? (German saying, not sure if it translates to English at all lmao)

Translates perfectly, no worries. As for me having tips...

No word of a lie. I am furniture crawling my ass along a very strange path at the moment. Getting adult life, day jobs, and creative writing under one hat depends on so many things; your financial situation, your personal capacity (mentally, emotionally, physically), your goals/desires, your needs and values, your UNMET needs/desires etc. It's a very individual journey, and the artist/creative path, however archetypal at times, is changing a lot in our modern landscape (which can be a very good thing).

The good thing is, creative writing can manifest in many different areas (copywriting, ghostwriting, editing, journalism, developmental media, blogging, vlogging, etc) -- again, I don't know your personal capacity, means, or margins, or what it may or may not require / cost you if you're balancing/sacrificing other areas of your life. Which is totally normal. I think work-life balance all at once is an overrated and unrealistic metric.

It would be so easy for me to say "follow your heart" and "do what you love" and do I advocate that? Abso-fuckin-lutely. So long as you're prepared for the TRADEOFFS and the COST. I think that's the biggest tip, luv. Getting real damn clear on what you are prepared to give up. And what you are NOT prepared to give up/compromise on? For whatever reasons. Zero judgement. It's what works for YOU.

So my tips are ASKING YOURSELF THE RIGHT QUESTIONS.

What do you want to get out of your creative writing? Do you want to do it professionally or just as a pleasure pursuit? Both are awesome.

Why are you taking your current degree in a non-creative field? Job security or genuine joy/interest for the field? If it's for joy/interest, it will cost a little less than if you're grafting without pleasure at all. Btw, no need to answer any of these questions, I'm literally brainstorming question suggestions with you to get CLARITY.

Clarity = awesome.

How can you balance your creativity against necessity/security/other job etc.? Do you need to cut yourself some slack and get the degree out the way before you decide that? Maybe you can dabble in creative writing as you go along and figure out how you regain and sustain your energy?

These kinds of questions can help a lot, especially when you're looking at your energetic capacity so you don't burnout.

I have no clue if any of this was helpful...it sure as hell went beyond my two cents, so I do apologise for the massive word-vomit of a response. I feel passionately about this, given my own god-awful experience with burnout, energy mismanagement, and the flaming brimstone underworld that kind of shit puts you in -- I would hate to learn you ended up there. Please be kind, patient, and gentle with yourself. You're embarking on a big quest here with your degree, which sounds like it demands a lot. May the writing, when you have energy for it, be a cosy non-demanding companion and a supportive compadre. Not a bloody albatross around your neck or a hellhound snapping at your heels. Writing is better when it's FUN. Hard, tiring, and frustrating 'maybe-I-need-a-safe-word' kind of fun...but worth it. Worth the investment (energy) it requires.

Please, please, please prioritise your rest and your recovery whenever you can, luv. I am sending super-charged positive vibes your way, with a gallon of tea. Autumn is a magical time, so I hope the chilly, crispy, colourful, chai-drinking vibes of this season nourish and support you. Ganbatte, my dear!

~ Rayne x 💜☕️🍁

[bloodsworn-marshal]

Writing Prompt: Check Word Count: 951

Every day was a long day in the life of Pipin Tarupin. A man of many roles and titles: Flame General, Sultanate mediator, Sultana’s right-hand man, Sultansworn, peace negotiator, soldier and plenty more… husband being his latest of acquired titles. Where did he possibly find the time to do it all?

A good portion of his responsibilities came in the form of timed meetings. Ul’dah’s greatest priority at this time and age was that of its people and bettering itself—which required constant communication amongst the upper echelons. War had become a distant if not completely eradicated threat on their minds, so it was that many a change was coming about. Amongst not only the monetarists and loyalists, but also meetings with the Sultana herself, or on some far of negotiations with the Amalj’aa who were slowly but surely being accepted back into the cities if they so chose…

He had become well acquainted with the people he once called scum (and still did beneath his breath). The likes of Lolorito and the other Sultanate chair members. And those of higher society he needed meet and greet between banquets and meetings and nobleman parties—all of which tired the soldier out sorely. Politics was never his game, but by the Twelve did he ensure to make his voice heard for the people! That and making sure no one singular side had more to gain than the other in the choices they would make.

Meanwhile, much of what he used to accomplish back in the day as a Marshal had now been redelegated to people like Commander Swift. Captains and Commanders who could take care of the majority and neatly tie all the happenings and ongoings into a report at the beginning or end of the day. Recently promoted Flame Marshal River had picked up much of his slack when he had difficulty keeping up with it all. Plenty of new adventurers joining the company every day, lots of news from abroad and the surrounding areas where they picked up the slack of the Brass Blades.

…Still, he could not completely ignore the stacks of reports that required his attention and his attention alone. Nor the calls that came across the linkpearls asking specifically for his presence and the odd happenchance occurrences that happened out of nowhere. The higher in command looked to him for orders—so he would plan their day to day too. 

This goes without mentioning how oft the Sultana would want for his attention or kidnap him off into a leisurely jaunt into the markets. Or Papashan asking of his assistance with the Sultansworn. Or people catching his attention off to the side, deadlines to meet, this and that… it was a lot! Truly and utterly a lot! That by day’s end he only wished to curl up on a couch with coffee in hand and nothing else to worry his mind. There’d be plenty to think about on the next after all!

His checklist of a normal day nearly went about as follows:

Check in at the Flame of Halls to delegate orders and read incoming reports. Meet with the higher in commands as necessary to go over this and that. 

Perform morning drills with the Immortal Flames, whether that be in the fields past Ul’dah’s gates or within the confines of their recently acquired gladiatorial coliseum.

Attend meetings throughout the day as they come up.

Try not to get sidetracked by conversation or questionings into his ongoings (Avoid paper reporters at all costs!!)

In between meetings, get with the Sultana and check with her of her business. If she needed input on something, or if she needed an out of the palace for a short time. Check with Master Papashan too if he happened to be around.

Go here and there as reason dictates. Never sit around for long and always help out where assistance is needed.

Sneak out to Adede’s goldsmithing shop during lunch break…

Ah, yes. The one thing he looked forward to most in the day. And that was making time to rendezvous with his beloved. A brief respite away from the chaos of everything else, to clear his mind of responsibility and want only for Adede’s time and companionship.

Whether it be hiding out in the back of her shop, or finding a quiet place in a lesser known restaurant or café to simply chatter about whatever topic fancied their attention that day. Much of it about their homelife, what they looked forward to doing when they got off for the day, latest trends or interesting things that came to mind. Overall enjoying one another’s company.

It was these small things in life to Pipin adored most… these little diversions from the normal every day which wasn’t so normal when compared to the average citizen.

In the past he would have done this all alone. Worked himself to death and share his woes with to none, as that was the life his father once lived. No one to talk to. No one to turn to. Everyone he did had just about betrayed him at one point or another besides the Sultana and only her.

But now… now he had someone he could turn to. Someone he could sneak a kiss with in between those many important meetings. Share “I love you”s with before being whisked away to the next matter of import. Have someone to think about and want to see at day’s end. Have a reason to take off from work and make time for just the two of them.

Tis a wonderful feeling, despite all the burdens that weighed upon his shoulders. Her name ever on his checklist even at his busiest.

[lunarsilkscreen]

Mind-Altering Chemical

Alcohol, Marijuana, and Opium are ALL mind-altering chemicals. We call them recreational because of the way it alters your mind. Beer gives you a buzz or gets you drunk (depending on how much she goes fast you drink it. Marijuana gets you high or wasted, also depending on how many edibles you consume. Opium works similarly to Marijuana. We just don't like it because we're racist, and I'll be damned if China is gonna get rich off my dumb ass. (Support small business--Smoke local)

I don't smoke. Because it makes me want a pack of Reds or Djarum Cloves. BTW: Nicotine is also a mind-altering chemical as is coffee.

Nicotine and Caffeine don't count when we're talking about mind-altering chemicals, because they don't have the hard-hitting effects like beer and MJ do in those larger doses.

I know people that can sip a single beer over a day and call that a buzz. But we all know that doesn't count.

"How have you used Opium if you're both racist and don't smoke?" Well, I was prescribed Vicodin when my wisdom teeth were removed. AND IF YOU DIDN'T KNOW. Vicodin is an opioid.

I hated that BTW, I had that and motrin to take for the pain, and all I did was play Paper Mario off the Wii store, poorly, for an entire week. It was all I could do, I was too high for anything else.

But I did get to finish "Thousand Year door" so there's that.

If you're wondering: fentanyl is a locally (as in US) produced synthetic opioid prescribed to people who Vicodin, Percocet, or other don't work. (all opioids) and by don't work: I mean don't work for what they're prescribed for. Usually to old people, but profit margins started creating opportunities to put fentanyl into everything. (Something that could be corrected by making weaker drugs Legal, instead of using fentanyl for everything.)

I'm talking about this because there's a difference between *those things* and other drugs prescribed for mental health issues, such as depression and anxiety.

(F* Wellbutrin.)

Which can also be prescribed for other conditions such as nerve-ending damage, arthritis, and pain. (Which suggests that anxiety and depression can be caused by pain receptors, when you don't actually feel pain.)

You don't typically get high or drunk on prescription anxiety meds, but they allow for you to function, and to deal with your day to day when you're otherwise checked-out.

Hey, hey. This is important, because people do something called self-medication. This isn't like addiction, where you're chasing that high, or drunk state, or "just trying to forget".

Because people self-medicate with Tylenol, Motrin, Tums, and all sorts of things in your "over-the-counter" aisle. Which by the way, costs $100 If you stock up on all of them for the month. (So much for Medicare).

Before smoking indoors was banned, nearly everybody smoked. Not just because it was the cool thing to do, but because nicotine actually has several benefits: including, focus, anti-anxiety, and energy (as well as weight loss).

Same with coffee. It's why [coffee and cigarettes] were considered necessary items up until the 21st century.

I wouldn't be surprised if this wave of autism and ADHD has to do with the efforts of just detoxing from both cigarettes and coffee. Because until now, until it was admitted that it was an actual thing; that's just what you did in order to function.

That's what you did to appear and act normal. Because it worked.

This is gonna get into a chicken-egg thing where "well how do we know they didn't *cause* ADHD and autism". Because if that was true then motrin and water caused your broken leg.

I'm just gonna conclude here:

Look, old people are gonna die soon anyway, we should at least listen to them, when they take drugs either recreationally or because they're in pain from the ravages of old age.

They should be taken care of, so that we can get their input and feedback on what actually works for conditions, what doesn't, and that can pave the way for medicinal breakthroughs that can actually improve health going forward.

That's an investment for the future, and respect for the past.

[mportal]

I uh…accidentally went wild on this one 😅 Having worked in the field, I can say most of this would never happen (but unfortunately not the costs info, depending on the drug), but it was fun to write anyway

Once upon a time, you wanted to be a research scientist. Not a doctor, as your parents had hoped (a brief stint as a junior EMT had helped you with that decision), but something medical where you might be able to help somebody. You were only two years in when everything fell apart. Cancer took your father early, and stress made a shell out of your mother, finally taking her a year later. Student loans kept you in school, but they weren’t a joke, and suddenly all that mattered was graduating on time with a workable degree that would get you a salary immediately. Failing Orgo 1 a second time made it all the more urgent.

The communications school was always accepting students from other majors. They even accepted all your current class credits.

It was an easy call.

Several years later found you languishing at a desk job. With your (limited) chem background and handful of summer internships, the pharmaceutical advertising agencies had snapped you right up. It was interesting work, and it paid the bills, but there were only so many ways to market oncology drugs without getting demoralized.

Coffee in the morning and wine in the evening helped. And the bonus you got every January for growing the agency’s contract with your client certainly never hurt.

You were in the middle of trying to grow that business right now, in fact.

“How long until we get the first shots back for review?” your client asked.

You bit back the urge to snap that you were literally still at the photoshoot, weren’t you? and gave them a well-rehearsed sympathetic look instead. “I know there’s a lot of pressure for the new campaign, and we’ll get you the initial shot list as quickly as we can. I can’t know for sure until the creative team takes a look, but probably Wednesday.”

“Wednesday!” Your client took a breath and ran a nervous hand through their hair. “Wednesday. Okay.” They took another breath. You could see how hard they were trying to control themselves. Seemed like the feedback your boss gave on their temper during last month’s review was having an effect. You wondered how long that effect would last. “Okay. But if you have a working shot list earlier than that and want to send it my way, just between the two of us, I’d be happy to give early input.”

You smiled easily and unfeelingly. “Of course. If I get a working list,” which you would, “then I’ll pass it over,” which you wouldn’t. Well, maybe a few photos that you knew would be favorites. But the timeline was already crunched and the creatives didn’t need to worry about an extra round of feedback to incorporate.

You looked at the executive team posing in front of the company logo and bitterly wondered what they were expected to turn around by Wednesday.

“You’re still planning to take some shots in the lab, right?” your client probed, cutting in on the thought.

“I saw you approved the budget. Did you also get the permissions?” You looked at your client when they didn’t answer right away. They were on their phone, probably checking to see if the lab manager had responded. Seemed a bit late to be doing that, but they controlled the money so you didn’t comment.

Your client looked up at the ceiling and sighed. No permissions, then. Cool.

“Look, forget about the permissions,” they eventually said. “The revenue tied to our campaign last year made this year’s research budget, so I’m giving you my permission.” You were pretty sure it didn’t work that way but, well…small pharma companies worked fast and loose compared to more established ones, and it would be on your client if anything went wrong. Plus, you really didn’t want to sacrifice this year’s bonus.

“Can you send that to me in writing?”

Your client was tap-tapping away on their phone even as you spoke. Yours buzzed in your back pocket. New email.

“Done,” your client said.

They led you up three flights of stairs to a glass cube containing more glass cubes all sitting in the middle of an empty floor. It was very futuristic looking, like a lab built expressly to impress investors and management.

The photographer ate it up, and you had to admit the first shots through the outer walls were already looking promising. And the next set of shots from inside the lab were even better. So what if you had to wear some protective suit that wrinkled your new blazer all while suffering frustrated side glances from the bothered scientists? You’d be out of there soon enough.

“How about a shot of the new manufacturing array?” your client asked, pointing through a locked door. “It’s in the inner room.”

You tried to peer into the room but strange disks embedded in the semi-transparent walls obstructed your view. Even so, you could make out the vague silhouettes of researchers bent over their tables and the slow moving mechanical arms they controlled, but could see nothing of what they were manipulating. “Can we really go in there?”

“Absolutely. The new corporate campaign needs to be striking. Completely different. We need shots of the array.”

You shrugged. “Sounds good.”

But it wasn’t good. You had been in the industry long enough to know that, though it was easy to ignore when the reward was high. And when your client was so practiced at making the alternative unpleasant. Purposely forgetting everything outside driving results for analytics reports and budget meetings had become second nature. It was survival. But reality didn’t forget. Diseases didn’t grow content. Nature, true nature, didn’t discriminate. A body was a body was a body.

The mistake was a simple one. A hand on the wrong surface at the wrong time, a delayed reaction, a broken vial. Easily understood, and unforgiving all the same.

You woke up in the hospital. First, the nurses and doctors came to talk to you. Then some executives came. Then the lawyers.

Your photographer was dead. Your client was dead. The scientists who had been working the inner room were all dead.

But you? You were healthier than you ever had been. Supposedly because of your smaller frame or something to do with genetics—or was it a combination of the two? They weren’t sure—the concentration of the aerosolized therapy was sufficient to overpower your body’s immediate immune response.

Your earring holes had healed. You had grown back your appendix. The scars on your knees from years of soccer were gone.

They wanted you to sign a contract and promised to keep the police out of it. After all, the deaths had already been ruled accidental and the company executives had been advised on a settlement cost, so no one had to be blamed. It could be written off as an unfortunate tragedy and nice company tax break... provided you cooperated. And there would be benefits if you did, of course.

You had a bachelors degree, a used Honda civic, a rented 2nd story one-bedroom, and a handful of plants. You had no close family left, no kids. No pets since Marshmallow, and that was back in high school. Your boss would wonder what exactly had happened, but that was easily handled. And maybe the guy you had been seeing would, too, though the way you left it after last week’s disaster of a date, maybe he wouldn’t.

There was no one to fight for you. And, honestly, not much to fight for.

It was an easy call.

Cooperation turned out to mean moving into a very nice apartment in their on-site facility, maxing out your disability time, and then quitting your job, all under the advice of the company lawyers. You went in for weekly blood tests and tissue samples, and took whatever pills they handed you, but you received a nice monthly stipend and endless amenities. It was all worth it, according to the executives. A very neat and mutually beneficial contract, as stated by the lawyers.

During your weekly exams, you tried to be unaffected by the looks the treatment team shot at you. They hadn’t worked closely with any of the researchers that died, but they still seemed to have opinions about it. In your free time, you worked hard to ignore what felt like constant buzzing under your skin and slept fitfully in an unfamiliar bed with overly starched sheets. You didn’t have to worry about accidentally cutting yourself with kitchen knives or careless burns from the curling iron anymore, but you cooked less and less and never dressed up. There didn’t seem to be any point.

Within a few months, their research had been launched forward by a decade. Before you had even adjusted to your new reality (unending guilt and isolation, no longer needing to wear contacts) they were already moving the therapy into clinical trials.

The first time you met one of the patients, a trial participant, willing and desperate and considering themselves so lucky, you felt like maybe there was a point after all.

She wasn’t much older than you, but she had a family and she wanted to live. And when she learned about your role in the study, she hugged you and thanked you profusely. Her gratitude felt unearned. And it didn’t seem right that you would live, and she wouldn’t, unless she received the treatment (“Your treatment,” she had called it). If she received it. And if it took, rewiring her immune cells and fibroblasts and everything else just like the researchers (who were left) thought it would. And it did take, for the participants who ended up in the right trial arm. It took quickly, too, within days.

But not for that young mother, apparently. Two weeks later, she was still coming in for tests. And she didn’t improve. And, eventually, she was admitted.

You spent more time together after that. As you got to know each other, you worked up the courage to ask if she had been in the control arm. She gave you a weak smile.

“Nope. I was one of the lucky ones. Just not lucky enough. I’m too far along for the treatment to work, they think. If it were years down the line, after a few more trials, when they get the concentration right, closer to how it is in your body…then maybe it would work for someone like me. But who has that kind of time?” She laughed. You didn’t.

“It’s ok,” she said, comforting you and wasn’t that strange. “Really. Maybe just by being in the study, I’ll have helped them make a better treatment. Maybe in a few years, it really will work for someone like me, because of me. That’s not so bad.”

But it felt hollow. It felt like somewhere someone had messed up, switched your fates. If only you could have given her your healing ability. If only they could match the concentration of the treatment to what was in your own body. The thought gnawed at you.

It wasn’t an easy call. It felt right, though. Or, you thought it did, at the time.

It had been years since your EMT days, but you started to pay attention during your usual blood draws. You asked more questions. You watched when they swapped out your friend’s empty blood bags, trying to fight the ongoing bleeds as her body slowly shut down.

You waited until you felt something close to confident, and slipped in at midnight. Nursing staff was minimal. The physicians were on home call, disturbed only in emergencies. You had your own pass. You were there all the time, after all. You were under contract.

Your friend’s room was dark but she knew it was you immediately. “I can’t,” she said, when you made the offer. “Okay, I can,” she relented, when you reminded her that her daughter’s graduation was coming up.

The needles slid in with almost no resistance. Within minutes, it was all set up. Your blood came flooding out, and her body eagerly accepted it. It was fine. It was right, you told yourself. And not a bad way to go, if that’s what it came to.

You woke up in the hospital. First, the nurses and doctors came to talk to you. Then some executives. Then the lawyers.

She was dead. You weren’t. After almost bleeding out, your body repaired the needle hole and replenished itself. Your friend’s body went wild in its immune response, something the doctors called a cytokine storm. Your healing factor hadn’t been enough, not at the concentration they found in her body, not at your relative sizes.

The idea had some merit, but she was going to die anyway, your usual doctor whispered to you as you sobbed into a scratchy hospital pillow. But it had been recklessly done. Unthinking, unstudied. He looked at you hard as your breath came out ragged. Maybe if she had been smaller…he trailed off, finished checking your vitals, and left. When you finally gathered the strength to sit up, you saw he had left a jello cup on your bedside table. It was red. You liked red.

When the lawyers came back the next morning it was with the executives. That was new. It turned out to also be bad. Someone had talked to the media and you were going to be transferred into government care. What did that mean? No one knew, but it was all over the news. The truth about the freak accident at the lab, the freak lady who wouldn’t die, the company executives’ freakish decision to conceal deaths and progress and money.

Your doctor came by again later to check on you. He left another jello cup.

They’re sending you to the military. Get out, read a piece of paper folded beneath it.

Midnight, and the hospital was a skeleton crew. You didn’t have a pass anymore but it didn’t matter. You opened your room window. Below you was the back alley between the old main building you were in and the newer outpatient center. It was dark in the space between, secluded, with only a dumpster. You were pretty sure you could line yourself up right.

Even if you couldn’t, it was still an easy call.

You jumped.

You are a supervillain with healing powers. The only reason you are labelled a supervillain because the American healthcare system is intimidated by you.