#hope she gets picked up by a well-paying company! really fuckin sucks

[oopsallmabari]

i cannot stress enough that i don't care abt the release of a game above the larger implications for how a studio+its employees are doing. but mary kirby got hit by the bioware cuts and. :( devastating to hear.

[arianaofimladris]

Predictable

A Marvel fic for a change, because I still don’t like Infinity war and wanted to tell myself a better story,

Predictable

 The last Thor remembered before the emptiness of the space sucked everything, was clinging to his brother. Then there was nothing but darkness.

The next thing he registered was lying on the floor of what seemed to be a space ship, not his spaceship, with a bunch of multiracial strangers leaning over him. He was on his feet in an instant, stumbling as his numb, half frozen legs almost refused to carry his weight. Backing away as far as the cramped ship allowed, he took in his surroundings. He found the lot staring at him.

Straightening, Thor returned the stare, turning his head to acknowledge them all. There was a Midgardian man and a short furry creature that looked like some kind of animal. Another man of bulky posture stood to the left, accompanied by a green-skinned lady with fiery red locks. A strange young woman with glowing antennas stared with her eyes wide open, and behind her a young flora colossus observed him from over a game pad of sorts. Together, they probably made the strangest company Thor had ever met.

“Who the hell are you, guys?” He asked in confusion. Lightning cracked between his fingers, readying for the fight that could possibly come. His experience with the strangers of late had not been overly positive.

"Woah, easy, man!" The Midgardian raised his hands in an universal peaceful gesture, while the strange furry creature at his side pulled out a blaster. “Rocket, not here!” He chastised. The creature rolled his eyes but lowered his weapon, if slightly. The others just watched Thor, apparently still surprised by his awakening.

“Not exactly a thank you we could expect,” Rocket muttered with reproach. “You know, we have just literally picked you up from the fuckin’ space. Mantis there woke you,” he made a vague gesture towards the woman with antennas.

That was when Thor realised what he was missing."Wh-where's my brother?"

"You mean the stiff over there?" Rocket pointed to his left. As Thor turned his head to follow his hand, he saw the familiar form laying on the floor. "You two were kinda tangled. Not much we can do there, sorry."

"No..." Thor’s knees buckled treacherously and the lightning sparkling around his fists shot uncontrollably, crafting a smoking hole right next to a control pad.

“Whatever you’re doing, don’t!” The Midgardian cried. “You’ll blow up my ship!”

“It’s my ship!” Rocket huffed in annoyance.

But the lightning disappeared just as quickly, Thor’s energy already spent in the battle with Thanos. He barely had it within him to stand. He forced himself to move towards Loki, grasping at whatever he could find within his reach as his legs threatened to cease carrying him.

Mantis got there first. She knelt by the unmoving figure and rolled him on his back. "He's not dead," she gasped, a hint of surprise visible as her black eyes blinked.

"Holy shit, what?!" The Midgardian choked. “How the hell is this possible?”

“Not as beautiful and strong as this one, but perhaps his strength lies elsewhere,” mused the bulky man. The comment made Thor stop for a second, so out of place it seemed.

“Drax, not now,” someone muttered, but Thor didn’t pay attention who.

"Not-" He stumbled again in his eagerness to reach his brother, desperately clinging to the tiniest string of hope.

"He's terrified and hurting, but not dead, Peter.” Mantis said to the Midgardian as she kept her hands hovering over Loki’s head. “I can wake him too."

"No, wai-"

But it was too late. With Mantis's gentle touch Loki jerked awake. A scream caught in his throat and his hand flung up. He coughed, his breathing coming in hitched gasps, and kept pulling frantically at the collar of his gear, unable to grasp a lungful of air.

Thor fell on his knees beside him as Mantis scrambled away. "Lo- Loki, stop!" He grasped his wrists and pinned them to the floor, leaning forwards so that he could be seen. “It’s alright!” His voice carried the edge of hysteria that contradicted his words.

It didn't work. Loki made a pained noise and his left hand froze, but his breathing was just as hectic. “Th’r,” he wheezed and Thor sighed in relief that at least his brother seemed to recognise him.

“He’s gone for now. Thanos is not here,” Thor promised hastily. Whoever these guys behind him were, they seemed friendly enough, or at least not too willing to kill them on sight. Thor didn’t have much energy left to spend on dwelling whether they could have had some ulterior motives and had picked them from the space for their own benefit.

“Thanos?” The green-skinned lady, who kept silent so far, repeated slowly, her voice distant.

“You know of him?” Thor let his eye fall off Loki and he turned to face her, cursing internally his inability to see the whole room without moving. It was a disadvantage he had yet to work on in fight.

“Gamora is the daughter of Thanos,” the big guy called Drax offered.

At that, Loki bolted upright. He managed as far as to a sitting position, but conjured a pair of daggers even as Thor placed himself between the strangers and his wounded brother. Loki’s left hand seemed useless and the knife fell from his grasp, so he clung to the other, desperately trying and failing to haul himself up.

“Thanos slaughtered half of my people and almost killed my brother!” Thor growled and dragged himself back to his feet. Crackles of lightning danced around his fists and shoulders.

“No, no, wait!” The Midgardian, Peter, rushed forward. “She wants him dead as much as you do!”

Thor glanced from him to Gamora, who nodded. He was trying hard to take her word for that when his brother looked at her with what bordered to outright fear. Loki’s posture screamed of mistrust, but Thor could also see hate and determination that steeled Gamora’s gaze as she looked him in the eye. Hesitantly, he let his arms drop and the lightning subdued.

“There are no friends of Thanos here, alright?” Rocket stepped firmly in front of the woman. “How about you guys sit down and take a breath?” He offered, which earned him a wheezing half-sob, half-laughter from Loki.

 So Thor found himself sitting on a bench with a thick blanket around his shoulders, slowly de-freezing with a bowl of hot soup in his hands. He was left with bone-deep exhaustion and a pounding headache, a courtesy of a close touch of the Power Stone, but he was alive and breathing. And he was not alone.

Loki was slumped to his right, leaning against his shoulder. It had taken some manoeuvring to get him there, as he had let no one but Thor so much as lay a finger on him. He looked no better than when he had been woken and was still half a step away from passing for a corpse, if not for his shallow, wheezing breathing. He cradled his left hand at his lap, but dared not close his eyes and go into a healing sleep. His gaze never left Gamora, even as she withdrew to the farthest part of the room.

Thor listened as Gamora talked about Thanos and his goal to wipe out half of the universe. His anger would have boiled untamed, had it not been for his exhaustion. The Thanos he faced had wielded only one stone, and still he had managed to slaughter all those who had not escaped in the pods with the Valkyrie. He had bested the Hulk. Had bested him.

A shiver and a pained gasp drew Thor’s attention from where he mulled over his soup. Loki seemed to be struggling to breathe again, his good hand hovering over but never really touching his swollen throat.

"Why is it not healing?" Thor frowned as he realised Loki’s left wrist swelled and bruised instead of getting better.

Loki's mouth stretched in a mirthless smirk for a second. "All... I... Have... Goes... For. Not. Dying," he rasped. His eyelids fell for a moment, but he snapped them open again and looked around.

"You'd better not," Thor muttered, careful not to voice too much concern about Loki's statement. His admittance alone was alarming, and in the presence of those strangers, especially Gamora, it was likely all Thor would get. Still, he had to ask. "Do you need anything? Are you hurt elsewhere?"

A minute shake of head was all response he got.

"You guys are creeping me out," Quill startled them both. "We pick you up from NOTHING, the stiff there definitely choked and dead... -ish. And now he's talking already."

"We are not easily killed," Thor offered and he wished he could feel the conviction he heard in his own voice. If anything, the most recent events had taught him that there were forces in the universe stronger than an army of Einherjar, forces that could overpower Asgardians as strong as him.

"Creepy or not, it seems you are short on whatever it is you are using to stay alive," Rocket addressed Loki as came over with a couple of small packages. "So maybe try the good old-fashioned way?" He dropped them at Loki's knees, completely ignoring how tense and utterly still he went.

Loki stared down with a frown.

"Oh, you know? Cold for the swelling?" The raccoon rolled his eyes. "Can't hurt to try. Then you can go on with the magic thing you are doing."

“Thank you,” seeing that Loki would or could not answer, Thor nodded to Rocket and wrapped the cold dressing around Loki’s wrist. “Is there a place where we could rest?” He asked, knowing well his brother would not let his guard down unless they were alone. The proclaimed hatred towards Thanos didn’t seem enough for Loki to trust them and let himself rest. If they were to go against Thanos, Thor needed his brother back in form. And, as much as he loathed to admit it, he himself needed to be able to formulate a trail of thoughts without having his head split in half.

“Oh, yeah, we could probably spare you a room for now,” Quill nodded.

“I am Groot?” The flora colossus nudged Thor expectantly. His input was unexpected, as for the whole time he seemed entirely preoccupied with his game.

“Thank you, young friend, but there’s not much you could do to help,” Thor offered him a warm smile, but Groot ignored him and reached for Loki’s wounded wrist.

Unable to back away, Loki attempted to pull his hand free and yelped. Groot ignored him too and held his hand in both of his own, concentrating. Thor was about to react and drag him away from his brother, but Groot’s efforts paid off and tiny sprouts sprang from his hands. Both brothers watched in amazement as the branches grew, entwining, and soon weaved a brace around the damaged wrist.

Cutting himself off the brace, Groot looked up back at Thor and smiled brightly. “I am Groot.”

“That was brilliant!” Thor felt a genuine smile lighten his face and he stood up, this time hauling Loki along with little effort. Wrapping his arm around his brother’s back, he tossed Loki’s good hand over his own shoulders and smiled to himself at the position he placed his brother in.

Clearly Loki recognised it too. “No. Get. Help.” He whispered and his fingers dug into Thor’s bicep.

“Well, you need it, brother,” Thor chuckled softly. Loki’s nails dug deeper.

Rocket glanced from one to the other, unimpressed. “Ugh, whatever you say. Sleep it off, guys. Over there,” he waved towards the doors to his right.

“Thank you,” Thor nodded and led Loki to where he could possibly rest. “Wake me up when it’s time to split.”

Loki shot him a confused glance. Apparently some of his conversation with the group must have slipped his attention.

Adjusting his grip on Loki’s waist, Thor answered the unvoiced question. “We are going to Nidavellir, brother.” That, at least, was a fixed part of the plan they had yet to form.

 Story can be found here too: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33583816/chapters/83450944

Please let me know what you think.

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

FIC: 'Tis The Damn Season V

---

"Do you know what she's like?" "Huh?" "Well… do you have an idea what to expect?" "Hmm?"

"Are you even paying attention to me right now?" The younger girl asked abruptly, doe-eyes wide and blue as she looked balefully back at her companion. The confused look she got in return made her cheeks flush a soft shade of pink that didn't quite match up to her hair. "I was asking if you knew what the woman was like. The...the hunter. Like.. I've never met a hunter before, and aren't they supposed to be dangerous?"

Tems brows creased for a second, blue-grey eyes catching the light as the darker haired woman gave a short, sharp laugh. Bela tossed her hair back, brown waves tucking over her shoulder in a way that managed to look effortlessly chic like she'd never been able to do herself. "Hunters? Pssh. They talk a big game, but those I've dealt with? Rarely worth worrying about, and that was when I was a human."

"Yeah, but...but now wouldn't they...you know...be happy to kill you?" "Most would've been before, now I've got extra tricks up my sleeves though. Just like you."

"Well...I don't know about that," Tems mumbled quietly to herself as she fiddled with the edge of her choker impatiently. "I don't know if...that is, uh...I don't think I could hurt someone- someone who's a person and alive and-"

"Human. I get it." Bela's smile was comforting, and Tems found herself smiling shyly back under the other woman's supportive look. This was why she was so glad that the other demon had come along. Alone, she would've been terrified. "So, what was the question again?"

"Do you know what she's like?" Tems asked again, voice firmer and feeling more in control as she shifted her weight after a second of hesitation again, looking across at her friend as they waited at the edge of the parking lot. "I mean, whoever she is must be important if Cr- the King is sending her messages."

"Like I said, the hunters I used to run into weren't all that. Pretty much they're balding, middle aged men that are barely functioning alcoholics with too much flannel and death wishes," The other demon said thoughtfully, pulling a nail file from the air and starting to work on her already immaculate fingers. "There's only three that were worth any consideration, and I know two of them are already on fairly positive talking chit-chat levels with the good ol' boss man."

"Oh?" "You don't scheme to take down Lucifer together without getting some sort of working relationship sorted, right?" "I...I suppose not."

The other demon smiled at her gently, and Tems let out a small huff as she blushed again at the realisation she was being teased all over again. Just because her drive for ambition hadn't kicked in yet despite how long and just how spotless her record was, didn't mean she should always be getting teased about it. Kicking at the loose pebbles at the edge of the tarred parking lot as she fiddled with the edge of her choker, the redhead forced herself not to pout or sound too upset as she added sulkily, "You still didn't answer my question. Do you know what she's like?"

"Not personally," Bela replied quietly, picking at her pinky nail with renewed focus. "And I'd also never dealt with a female hunter. Didn't think there were that many around really, it's more of a dick-swinging contest."

"Oh, it definitely is." The unexpected voice made both demons jump, Bela dropping her nail file and Tems almost tripping on the uneven surface as she jerked her head over from looking at her friend to the short woman in front of her. "I mean, I'm still waitin' for my eight inch strap to arrive in the mail so I can participate, but I should match up or exceed the other guys' expectations then."

If the typical hunter was an older man reeking of cheap booze and dirty flannels like Bela's description had conjured for the younger demon, the person speaking to them was the complete opposite. Pretty and petite, but with clearly defined muscle under a casual mix of a floral print top and cut off jean shorts, the blonde was not like the other's answer to what hunters were like - even ignoring that she was a woman. The only things that set off any warning bells as Tems righted herself and tugged carefully at the wrist hems of her plain blue dress were the innocuous charm bracelet on one wrist and the sharp as a blade smile.

"Depending who you're competing with it probably would be-" "I thought it was a safe starting point. I don't need to beat them all, just some." "Seems like you likely would. Unless you know some giants."

"Only one." The blonde and Bela's banter took a few moments to sink through Tems shock to resonate and catch her attention again. There was a beat as the two others shared a common look before the shorter of the two added as sharply as her smile. "Can I help you loiterers?"

The demon pair shared an exchange of looks - Bela’s brow curved upwards for a long moment as Tems’ eyes darted between her companion and the staring blonde - before the older of the two gave a huff. “Well, the princess here’s been sent with a message for someone. I’m just here for some fresh air.”

“The what now?” There was a second as the shorter hunter’s eyes widened in confusion before she tilted her head the other direction. “Nevermind. Who’re you two after?”

“Joanna Harvelle.” “Ah, so me then.” “I kind of already worked that out, darling.” “Aren’t you clever. Now who the Hell, and while you’re at it what the Hell, are you two? And who’s sent you to find me?”

Tems shuffled awkwardly at the others’ exchange, biting on her lip for a moment as she considered just how scary such a small woman must be to not only be a hunter, but a hunter at that diminutive a size, and a hunter that had caused enough issues for the King to have sent a messenger to her. She closed her eyes for a moment, clinging to the thought that Crowley was fond of her and cared about her and wouldn’t risk her on some dangerous mission if this huntress was that scary. He had to be sure she’d be okay to send her and not someone else, right? Or maybe he just didn’t trust anyone else with the information - not that she understood that point much of her message at all.

“Um, we’re- well, you got it kind of right. Uh, my name is Tempest, and this is Bela-” Tems finally found her voice, shaky though it was, as she opened her eyes and looked back down towards the shorter woman. She jerked a hand up, gesturing towards her friend and chanced a look to see the older demon giving a slightly haughty look at the other, before returning to fiddling at her sleeve cuffs. “We were sent by the King- um, by Crowley the King of the Crossroads?” Her voice trailed off as she hoped for any sign of recognition from the woman, and prepared herself to smoke away at the first sign of violence.

While it wasn’t violence, she definitely saw the flash of awareness followed immediately by a twist and pursing of the hunter’s lips, something that seemed so innocuous but sent a slight shiver down her back at noticing it.

“Oh, that fuckin’ bastard, huh?” Joanna’s voice was harsh and rough as she shifted her weight and even took a full step back from the pair, eyes running over them as if sizing them up before pulling herself back up into her fullest height and a cocky smirk crossed her face. “What’s that asshole want? He finally want’ta accept his defeat gracefully? Want to know if I’ma send his drunken ass somewhere other than Hell next time I see him?”

Tems’ cheeks flushed hotly at the other’s words - the crassness catching her off guard from a sweet looking woman, as well as the obvious hatred setting through her tone - before dropping her eyes down to her shoes rather than dare to stare the other down. “N- no, that’s not what he, uh, said.”

“Oh? Well now I am curious what the fuck he wants.” “He, um, wanted to confirm if we- that is, like, crossroads demons - could go back to operating in the area if called.”

“Huh?”

“Something was taking us out, hunter,” Bela cut over the top of Tems’ trying to work out what to say to that question. She’d not been privy to the exact issue, Crowley’s keeping her usually from a lot of the other demons as his favorite but also not sharing the issues that the other redeyes whispered about to each other, but the dark haired demon definitely knew more about it than Tems did. “Whenever we came in this state pretty much. Crowley’d negotiated a, shall we say, cease-fire but it also left an entire area of crossroads with little deals popping up being not serviced or only serviced with those...disposable demons.”

“So you mean all of you?” “Oh, like you hunters are any less so. Bunch of sociopathic, blood-thirsty vicious-”

The blonde shook her head at Bela’s hissed outburst, throwing her head back with a harsh laugh before shaking it again and giving a quiet sigh. “So, you’re here cause Crowley wants me to do him a favor, huh?”

She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks again at the realisation that was the truth, and even further - her skin glowing redder still that she was sure it would match her hair if she looked in the mirror - to realise that that’s why he’d sent her for this. Crowley chose his best negotiator, he trusted her to be the one to be able to deliver not only the message but deliver on it. That was pressure. A lot of pressure. And pressure that left her tugging at her sleeves as she shrugged a shoulder at the question and dropped her eyes rather than look at the curious look she was being given by her friend. Bela was a good demon, there was a reason Tems enjoyed her company, but this was her task.

“He does.” The redhead said gently, sucking in a breath sharply as she gave a final nervous tug at her sleeves before looking up towards the sneering huntress. “I, uh, look I don’t know what the situation might be between yourself and the King, but, like, he had hoped that we’d be able to come to an agreement of sorts.”

The blonde paused as if considering the words, before her sneer shifted into a wide smirk that screamed danger towards Tems. “Oh, I’d sure love to hear what he might have to even try to organise. Ya know what?”

“Hmm?”

“You tell that asshole, and in these words exactly-” Joanna’s eyes had a shine to them that unsettled her. It was like the fleeting times she had spotted some of the older, more vicious and powerful demons around, that exuded power and cruelty in their looks only, that would send little redeyes like them scurrying away within moments. But she couldn’t drop her eyes as she looked back at the blonde even if she wanted to. She needed to deliver this message, she needed to succeed or at least ensure the best negotiation she could for Crowley, she couldn’t fail the man that put his trust in her. The hunter smirked wider, teeth white and sharp. “-That if he wants to work out some details, he can come talk to me himself at a very specific blade point. Then maybe I might be so nice as to consider considerin’ helping him. For I am a benevolent God. ...You got that?”

Tems could see her friend nodding from her peripheral as she nodded her head too, something about how simple the words were making her feel like they held far more meaning to them for the blonde and likely for Crowley than they sounded like. Glancing to the side, she saw Bela’s brows creasing as well, before she darted a look back to the blonde.

The hunter’s smirk had slowly shifted at their nods, her mouth pulled into a slight frown instead and those eyes that flashed with that dangerous edge had softened as she seemed to look between the two demons for a moment before shrugging. “If he has an issue with that, tell him I said he could stick it up his own ass rather than takin’ it out on your two too, okay?” Joanna’s words didn’t sound particularly nice or caring, but at the same time, Tems thought it sounded like an apology as well. “Can’t help what ya’s have become, so don’t let him hold what I’ve got to say ‘gainst you.”

Frowning slightly, Tems felt her head nodding again before her mind had even had a chance to catch up to what she was saying. It was something Tems wasn’t sure she felt was fair either - she knew she’d made a deal as a child before she knew right from wrong really but she could have helped from condemning herself, and the same could be said for her friend even if her situation had been all the worse.

“Say,” The hunter’s voice cut through Tems’ morose thoughts then, brown eyes wide and curious instead as she glanced between the pair of demons. “Why’d he send you two anyways?”

“I’m just here to stretch my legs, actually.” Bela quipped back, a faint smirk tugging at her lips as she looked back at the other. “I don’t suppose you know what it’s like down there-”

“More like Dante’s or like Paradise Lost?” “Depends where you are, actually.” “Given Mr Would-Be-King sent you, I’m guessin’ you’re both redders?” “So the areas a lot less… screaming than the rest, yes.”

The back and forth had shifted somewhere from aggressively judging into a swift pattern of give and take, before the hunter gave a shrug of her shoulders - a peek of sun-kissed tan skin that spoke volumes of the difference between a sun filled life to the dank of a cold afterlife. “Hmm, I don’t suppose Dean or Sammy could confirm that then - not that anyone wants to ever talk ‘bout it.”

“Oh, you know those two?” There was an edge in Bela’s tone as she spoke, and Tems tilted her head curiously before reaching out and taking her friend’s hand. “Don’t suppose they’ve grown any hearts since I knew them, hmm?”

“When was that?” “Dean was on his count-down clock, and can’t say I’m not a little sad that I missed out on seein’ him downstairs.”

“Hmm? Ouch, that’s harsh.” “Well, if they wouldn’t help out a girl in need - they deserve harsh.”

Tems squeezed her friend’s hand tighter then, trying to send through what kind of support she could to the other. Dying and knowing it was coming for you was not something that could be understood other than by those who’d experienced it first hand, and the desperation in those last few months, weeks, days and hours couldn’t be faulted. Sharing a supportive look with her friend, the younger demon shifted a little closer unconsciously as if it would help any.

“Can’t say they’re fans of it still, I’ve had to beg them a few times before they’ll pull on up. But perhaps I just get their softer side than others do.” The hunter’s voice was soft, and Tems could see that her face was equally soft as she looked between the two demons before tilting her head curiously. “That wasn’t all that long ago, surprised you’re already...high enough… to be on any sort of terms with the fuckin’ dumbass.” There was a blink where both demons’ looked back at her in confusion before the blonde clarified, “I mean Crowley. Being what - King of the Crossroads? Heh, bet he hated that little downgrade. He makin’ the most of holding any sort of power then, huh?”

“He has been, uh, more attentive to us, that’s true.” The redhead replied this time, noting that her friend was still clearly stuck digesting the information regarding the other hunters she’d known in life. That they were both alive seemingly was causing some confusion for her, and Tems would have to talk to Bela later about it. “He’s a very good King.”

“And a very good sort of asshole too.” Joanna chirped back with a smirk, rolling her eyes, before fixing them onto Tems. “So, she’s new and you’re the messenger. That makes you older, right?”

“Oh, oh no.” Tems felt herself flushing at that misunderstanding. “I… that is, Bela has been around longer than myself but I, uh, I’m good at my job.”

“Oh, so you’re useful. Hmm.” “Crowley is very complimentary to me.” “Best watch yourself or he’ll be more than complimentary.” “He’d never!”

Tems had not been that shocked before than at hearing the implication from the hunter before her. It was one thing for other demons - those who knew Crowley and the way he was - to assume things, and another for someone she’d never met before make the suggestion that that could happen. That she seemed to know it wasn’t already though - the warning in those brown eyes and that gentle tone - was almost as shocking.

“No?” Joanna’s brows creased for a second as she seemed to be thinking before fixing her with another look instead. Eyes fixated on the black necklace around her neck. “She called you ‘princess’ before, right? Crowley dotin’ on you like a daddy, and not the sugar type, huh?”

Her cheeks felt all warm again, and she tugged her hand from her friend’s now comforting grip to tug awkwardly at the collar of her dress with a quiet cough, as if to cover her choker. It wasn’t exactly right but it was also not wrong either - Crowley protected her and clearly cared about her as more than just for her successes; but that wasn’t exactly how it felt for her. “I- He’s- It’s not totally like that.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll fuck up sometime soon enough.” The blonde’s words sounded sharper for a moment then, and looking up from her shoes, Tems was surprised to see something else to the woman’s eyes all over again. Not the hatred and fire from before, the dangerous thread of a threat earlier, or even the detached sympathy towards Bela when they’d discussed some mutual acquaintances. It confused her to see something more akin to compassion and actual empathy directed towards her from someone who should for all intents be pointing a gun in her face or reciting some exorcism to send her back where she came from. “Perhaps he’ll be better with you and learn from his previous mistakes, loosen up that stick from his ass to let you have your own life. Seems you’re allowed other friends at least, so maybe…” There was a pause, and Tems felt herself frowning in confusion as the words seemed to seep into her mind and bounce about confusingly as the blonde’s eyes flickered between the demonic pair and then back to meet her own gaze steadily. “Maybe you’ll be better off, and he ain’t all that bad. He's not always an asshole, not entirely...”

By the time she finished chewing the thought over though, the blonde woman was halfway across the parking lot back towards the rough looking building as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

“Thanks!” She heard herself calling out, and jerked all over again in surprise to see the blonde spin about and wave a friendly hand towards them as she called back as well “No problem! Next time, just knock.” before the sound of laughter cut through the air again.

It was something Tems realised, as she turned back to her friend and then tugged on that part of herself that was that intrinsic part that let her disappear from one place and appear in another, that had been missing. The sound of carefree laughter and the loss of it was ringing in her head as she found herself returning to the figurative darkness of the underworld, pondering if maybe she would get another chance to head back up and maybe negotiate again, maybe even get to make the sound herself next time.

---

[agentkgent]

Song Insp. 1 - “Undrunk”

Inspired by “Undrunk” by FLETCHER; Eddie and Richie are in their freshman years at separate colleges, and broken up since high school (Richie didn’t think long distance would work); Anyway, Eddie sees Richie post photos with a cute boy and he gets drunk and he gets voicemail-happy. Enjoy. (Mild sexual content, some profanity, underage drinking, mention of throwing up, but overall pretty tame; Oh, also Pennywise never existed ok thanx)

Cleaned-up and updated version available on AO3

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

[Please enter your password.]

****

[“Richie Tozier, mothafuckers!” You have. 19. New Voicemails.]

Voicemail 1 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 1:20 A.M. “Fuck-“ *low thud*

Voicemail 2 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 1:33 A.M. “Hi fuckface. It’s Eddie Spaghetti ... I fuckin hated that nickname, so it’s PRETTY WEIRD to call myself that, right? ... Like, do you call yourself ‘Trashmouth’? ... *a loud fake “HA!”* ... You probably do, nothing ever fuckin bothers you-”

Voicemail 3 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 1:43 A.M. “-don’t know why I’m even messing, but I just wanted you to know that this ‘cute little wimpy boy’ as you used to call me is drunk as FUCK right now in a bar full of hot dudes who are all touching me and buying me jello shots and shit-”

Voicemail 4 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 1:45 A.M. *shuffling noises* “-eriously Bev, FUCK OFF”

“Eddie, give me the phone!”

Voicemail 5 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 1:50 A.M. “The lovely Beverly Marsh would like me to tell you she says ‘hi’ and that she’s not condoning my bullshit ... but guess what, bitch? I don’t need anyone to condo my bull-” *hiccup* “-shit. Oh no. Oh fuck. How do I get rid of hiccups? BEV-”

Voicemail 6 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 1:53 A.M. *hiccup* “-ou think you’re the only fuckin person in the universe, you think you’re hot shit. I’m hot shit. I’ve kissed like, A LOT of dudes tonight, how about that?! Okay? They’re all buying me shots and shit and one guy even picked me up. Remember when you did that? Guess what, other guys can do that too! You’re not fucking special-”

Voicemail 7 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 1:54 A.M. “Richie, it’s Bev ... Hi, I’m sorry we haven’t talked in a while.” *bass rumbles from a song change in the background* “Listen ... I’m sorry about Eddie. He’s upset about something you posted on Instagram earlier today, I didn’t see it, so I don’t know what he’s pissed about. I dunno, it’s none of my business, but he’s just drunk and being stupid. I’ll try to get him to stop calling you ... Um, so, ... I hope you’re doing okay! Like I said, I’m sorry we haven’t, like, talked or anything in a while but I’d love to catch up! Maybe you can come visit NYU sometime? I mean, you can visit me at NYU. I don’t mean-” *a loud, drunk yell* “It’d just be nice to see you, Rich. Text me!”

Voicemail 8 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 1:56 A.M. “Hey dipshit your voicemail system keeps cutting me off, what the fuck?”

Voicemail 9 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 2:18 A.M. *silence* ... *a deep breath* ... *shuffling*

Voicemail 10 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 2:20 A.M. *club music and background noise is gone* *groan* ... “It’s just so fuckin’ easy for you to just MOVE ON, huh? Fucking bullshit. Mr. ‘I Love You But Long Distance Never Works.’ Mr. ‘Oh But This Guys Got Great Hair I’ll Fuck Him.’ He’s ugly, by the way. All the guys you go to school with look fucking ugly online. And you know that I don’t make shit up when I drink tequila, I just get more honest, so those fuckbois are ugly as hell-”

Voicemail 11 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 2:23 A.M. “I guess the best part of living far, far away from you is forgetting what you look like. Are you even still good-looking? You might be ugly, now too.” *quiet shuffling* ... *tapping noises* “I still got the photos you sent me ... I probably should have deleted them, but I guess I figured if I needed to have ammo ready in case you decided to be a dickhead-”

Voicemail 12 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 2:26 A.M. “Fuck... I forgot...” *muffled noises* ... *a deep, throaty breath* “Fuck...”

Voicemail 13 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 2:50 A.M. “Richie, I... I’m sorry ... This just ... Sucks.” *a deep breath* ... *quiet shuffling* “I don’t think it’s worth anything now and I’ve gotta-” *cough*

Voicemail 14 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 3:14 A.M. *clears throat* “...Well, I feel a little bit better after throwing up ... I’m also now realizing some of the horrible shit I’ve said tonight, so if you stopped listening to these voicemails, I’d understand ... But I’m just ... This is really hard. And I saw that photo of that fuckin guy, and you have your arm around him-”

Voicemail 15 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 3:15 A.M. “Dude, seriously, what the fuck is your voicemail’s problem? It keeps cutting me off. I’m trying to open up here.”

Voicemail 16 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 3:28 A.M. *deep breath* “I’m sorry. This is stupid ... Bye, Rich.”

Voicemail 17 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 3:57 A.M. *quiet sob* “I just... I wish I never met you, sometimes.” *sniffle* “Because now I always compare everyone to you ... And you’re gone, we’re done, like I get it. But it just sucks ... I really wish I could just like, ‘un-fuck’ you. You’re all I can think about when I - ... I hate that I miss you so much. I hate that I drank so much and got so fuckin- ugh, god, I kissed strangers.”

Voicemail 18 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 4:01 A.M. “This is gonna be the biggest regret of my fucking life, leaving you 300 voicemails. Please don’t abuse this. I’m not proud of it.”

Voicemail 19 | NOVEMBER 3, 2019 at 4:31 A.M. “Yeah, jus-” *soft thuds* “Just tell him-” *gentle taps* 

“Rich? It’s Bev again. Hey, so. I’m with Eddie now, I’m making sure he gets to bed and doesn’t choke on his own puke. He said he’s really sorry. Um, but yeah, please don’t humiliate him? He’s kind of an emotional mess. Sorry again.” *shuffling noises* “Jesus, Eddie! How many voicemails did you leave him? He’ll probably send the police looking for us-”

[End of messages. To save messages, press-] *beep*

[Messages saved.]

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

Eddie’s head is pounding as his ears recognize the familiar digital noise ringing next to him. He instinctively picks up his phone and checks his screen.

*Incoming Facetime request from Richie Tozier*

He thinks he might throw up.

*Accept* and the video call connects.

“...Before you say anything, I’m paying for it dearly.” Eddie groans.

His eyes focus on the figure on his screen. It’s obnoxiously close and familiar and makes Eddie ashamed of himself. Richie doesn’t say anything. He just raises his eyebrows and waits for Eddie to say... something?

“And... I’m sorry, Rich.” Eddie rubs sleep from his eyes and feels a strong ache developing in his skull. “I’m an asshole. I’m really sorry. I’ll leave you alone forever now, bye-”

“Eddie!” Richie interrupts ferociously. “You left me. Almost 20 voicemails. What the fuck is your problem? Do you understand that when you leave 20 voicemails for someone, they’re gonna think you’re dead? Or kidnapped? Or trapped under a fallen vending machine, or some shit?!”

“Okay well, if I was kidnapped, it wouldn’t have done me any good. Why didn’t you answer?”

Richie scoffs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Fuck off. First of all, you really think this would go any better if you’d talked to me?”

Eddie swallows. “No.”

“And SECONDLY, I left my phone at Stan’s house. We watched Zombeavers and I had my phone on silent.”

“...What the hell is Zombeavers?”

“Eddie are you fucking serious? Don’t ever fucking do that to me again!” He spits faster than anything Eddie’s heard him say and brushes his curls away from his face. “Thank your lucky stars that Beverly was taking care of you. I talked to her this morning.”

Eddie swipes down on his screen to check the time. 1:01 p.m.

“Goddamn it.” Eddie moans. His head is the swampiest he’s ever felt. Like his brain is sloshing around in alcohol. He gags visibly at the thought.

“Whatever you’re feeling, you deserve ten times worse.”

Eddie wipes his mouth and fidgets with his hair, brushing it away from his increasingly warm face. “Okay, I get it. I’m fucking sorry.” He can feel tears forming behind his eyes. “I’m fucking sorry. I was a drunk idiot. I was a jealous asshole and I need to mind my own fucking business.”

Richie doesn’t respond.

Eddie suspects the conversation is concluding, so he prepares to hang up as fast as he can say ‘goodbye’-

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“What?”

Richie sighs. “The guy in the Instagram photo isn’t my boyfriend, I haven’t hooked up with him or anything. He’s Stan’s roommate. He’s also extremely straight. Like, next level hetero. Annoyingly hetero. I really like making him uncomfortable.”

Well, if Eddie didn’t feel ashamed before, he sure fuckin does now.

“Oh.”

“Yep. So, uh. Nothing to get jealous over, Eds.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Still? Can you stop?”

Richie’s face twists in disbelief. “You have no room to tell me to stop anything right now.”

“I’m sorry, though. For being jealous.”

Richie pauses. “It’s okay. A lot of the guys I go to school with are pretty ugly.” He leans away from the phone and shouts, “STANLEY INCLUDED!”

Eddie hears an echoed, “FUCK YOUUUU” from a voice somewhere behind Richie, who laughs. Proud of himself.

Eddie tries to smile, but he’s still empty.

“You have plenty of guys to keep you company, sounds like.” Richie says in a less-than-thrilled tone.

“I gave them pecks on the mouth.” Eddie says without looking back at his phone. “They bought me shots and tried to hit on me, but I don’t want to exchange saliva with strangers. I think I exaggerated in the voicemails, though.”

“Well, you always compare them to me, right? To the Trashmouth?”

Eddie’s own words are restored in his memory. “Jesus christ, I-”

“It’s okay, Eds. After my rage subsided and I talked to Bev and figured out that you were okay, I actually admired the honesty.”

Eddie can’t help but laugh mockingly at himself. “Yeah, that’s me. Super honest. To a fault.”

Richie smiles. “Bev and I talked about hanging out next weekend. Got any plans?”

Eddie’s eyebrow twitches and he looks back to his screen. “What?”

“I’m gonna come up next weekend. Bev invited me to stay for a weekend. I’ve never been to New York.” Richie shrugs.

Eddie can’t form words. He almost forgets that Richie can see him right now via digital video. He shouldn’t want to see Richie, but he does. He knows it now. It’s out of his mouth, out there in the universe. Fuck, it’s recorded in digital audio format.

“Are you free?”

“I uh...” Eddie stutters. “Yeah. Yeah, I- I free.”

“You’re still cute as can be, Eds.” Richie’s smile is sickeningly sweet.

Eddie lets a smile show on his face for a half-second, then presses his lips into a firm line. “Don’t call me Eds.”

Richie’s face changes immediately. “Oh! By the way!” He’s wearing a sleazy grin. “You kept photos of me? ...Like, those photos?”

Eddie has to take a moment to remember.

His face immediately goes neon red at the memory of resurfacing sext pictures and dick pics of Richie that they’d shared their senior years at Derry High School. He’d dug them up in his photo stream and... looked... too long at them. He can’t help but slap his own hand across his expression.

“Dude!” Richie laughs and is fixated on Eddie’s reaction. “Are you serious? You kept those? I thought I was an asshole for keeping a photo of you shirtless. You kept pictures of my dick?”

“Ok.” Eddie tries to punctuate the conversation.

“What else? I think I remember sending you my ass a couple times.”

“Alright, Rich. Don’t rub it in. I’m not proud of what I did.”

Richie pauses. “What do you mean ‘what you did?’”

Eddie feels like he might drop dead from self-inflicted humiliation. He doesn’t respond, he tries to think of a deflect.

“Eddie Kaspbrak...” Richie’s breath hitches in his throat. He’s not smiling. “Did you jerk off last night between voicemails?”

“Okay Rich, I’m sorry again about all the voicemails. But we��re good now, right?” Eddie presses.

“EDDIE DID YOU JERK OFF TO PHOTOS OF ME?” Richie yells, giant grin on his face and his eyes going dark. There’s a muffled, “What the fuck?” that comes from Stanley somewhere in the background, and Eddie is going to throw himself into oncoming traffic because certain death is better than the absolute tormenting embarrassment of this situation.

“You’ll figure everything out with Bev and we’ll see you next weekend, yeah?“ Eddie rushes to end the conversation.

“Hey! What the fuck! All I have is a shirtless pic to work off of, you’ve got like, Spielberg angles on my anatomy!” Richie chuckles. “Send me some new material, fucker!”

“Wow. Oh my god. Okay, good to talk to you, Rich.”

“Eddie.” Richie says, softer.

He looks at his screen one more time. “Yeah?”

“Text me next time?”

[gray-anxiety]

No Sympathy → Levi Ackerman Chapter 4 → First Day

Read the rest of the chapters here!

As a result of this chapter being semi-late (I was working on the plot of this story and figured out a pretty solid one, though I'm not sure about the ending yet), have the longest chapter of the story so far — clocking in at 2,660 words

 Aella’s phone blared with one of her 30 alarms telling her to get out of bed, though Aella thought otherwise. Aella buried herself deep into her blankets and tried to go back to sleep but the alarms kept going off. Damn her and her genius method of making herself get up. The warmth that encased Aella lulled her back to sleep, but she knew she had to get up — school was in 3 hours and she had to now plan out a schedule and a new budget to share with Levi. She really needed to take a day off sometime; this shit is fucking horrible. Aella finally pulled herself out of bed and checked the time on her phone — 5:04 A.M. not bad considering that she spent all four of those minutes just trying to sleep in. Aella thought about taking a shower but decided against it knowing Levi was probably asleep still. Aella opened her door and was surprised to see Levi across from her on the couch watching the news looking like he’s been awake for hours.

   “Levi? The hell you doing awake?” Aella asked, rubbing her eyes while walking to the kitchen; Aella was already famished, any food seemed delicious right about now.

   “Insomnia.” Is all that Levi said, not bothering to even pay attention to Aella; he was focused on the news that had just come on four minutes ago. Aella looked back to the TV and saw a report about the recent murders that happened in the capital. Aella couldn’t have given two shits about the politics happening there as they never did anything to help Maria or the districts that struggled to not go broke. Corruption was everywhere in Sina, which made it perfect for mafia activity rather than the gang activity that occurs around here, but it was just as bad, if not worse there. The capital had long attempted to cover the high crime rate occurring in Maria and Sina (Rose was considered the safest city out of the three) and did a fairly good job convincing the other territories that the country with three cities was safe and far from corruption, but when you’re isolated from every other country due to their hate for you, it doesn’t do much. Yes, it did suck being born in such a hated place, but it did have its benefits as well — mafias have tried to lessen the corruption by attempting to take over the government to establish a more equal democracy, but every attempt so far has failed. That’s right — mafias. When fucking mafias try to lessen corruption you know you fucked up. Aella bit off a piece of her sandwich and grabbed a tea bag from her cupboard; no day started off right unless she had her tea.

   “Levi, we should establish a schedule and a budget since you’re living here now,” Levi grunted in acknowledgment and turned his head to pay attention to Aella once the news segment was over. Levi got up and stretched his arm a bit before walking over to sit at the tiny wooden table Aella had against the wall parallel to the kitchen.

   “Tea?” Levi raised his brow and Aella rolled her eyes; she pulled out three tea flavors and made him pick one.

   “You drink black tea as well I gather.” Aella nodded her head and poured the hot water into two cups with tea bags in them — she hoped he preferred nothing in his tea as she did. Aella grabbed the two cups and set them down at the table where Levi resided and grabbed her planner from the counter.

   “How much money do you make a month?” Levi rolled his eyes at the question and sipped his tea.

   “Too much. Let’s just say 50,000 for now. I imagine that’d be plenty for a month’s rent.” Aella’s jaw dropped — she only made 2,500 a month if she was lucky! How on earth does a high schooler make so much damn money?

   “How old are you even, Levi? That’s so much money!” Levi looked up with a blank face.

   “19. I would ask how old you are, but I already know from looking at your documents. You’re not doing all that bad for being a month away from turning 18.” Aella’s eye twitched; Levi could’ve seen her real name! Aella sucked in a breath and started planning a budget with Levi. Most of the funds would be stashed away and saved for an emergency while about 5,000 would be reserved for the apartment alone, 2,000 on food; which would bleed over to next’s month’s food reserves, and another 2,000 for anything that was needed but didn’t group in with the rest. Aella questioned why in the hell Levi, at 19, was still in high school, but made no attempt on asking knowing she’d receive a glare from Levi. Three hours pass by fast when planning out financials and getting ready for school, Aella managed to even start working on a ten-page essay! Levi stood waiting at the door with his backpack over one shoulder for Aella to hurry up and turn off all the lights — Levi even grabbed Aella’s own backpack and threw it over his shoulder too.

   “I work from 5-8 at a local writing company, please don’t do anything that’d destroy my apartment during that time,” Aella begged as the two of them walked out the door to school. Levi rolled his eyes and threw Aella’s backpack towards her.

    “Relax. I’m not going to do anything. The worst thing you’d ever come back to is me cleaning up a murder, which you’ve already borne witness to.” Aella rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. The dynamic duo had finally reached one of the numerous entrances for Karanese High, nodded at one another as a goodbye, and went their separate ways for one 90 minute class. Levi skipped out for the second half of his ‘block’ class for a smoke — he was considered a ‘bad boy’ for a reason, apparently. Levi thought the whole classification system was absolutely ludicrous, but who was he to judge? His official work title was being a motherfucking mafia boss. Another senior stepped out onto the roof as well, earning a blank glance from Levi — it was some guy named Armin Arlert. Contrary to popular belief, Levi and Armin both held the spot for smartest kid in the school even though both parties were considered ‘popular bad boys’. Armin nodded his head towards Levi and pulled out a blunt — offering an extra to Levi for later, which he gladly accepted. Armin had his bob-length hair pulled back into a mini man bun that surprisingly went well for some dude who was supposedly considered a nerd two years ago.

   “Did you hear about the party happening over the weekend? Apparently, some really high-class mafia bosses are funding it.” Levi’s eyebrow arched in interest; Armin nodded in understanding and continued:

   “Remember that chick Sasha from Government that’d always propose anything related to food?” Levi nodded and sighed through his nose. Sasha annoyed him to no end — especially when she was right next to him screaming to some kid named Connie right across from her.

   “She’s hosting it. She’s inviting all the populars and any party animal that wants drugs and booze. Of course, there is little to no chance of the party being raided as the police couldn’t give fifteen shits about anything outside of the capital. You in? There are some of my friends that I told you about that will be there — you should meet ‘em. They love fighting, drugs, and crime as much as you.” Levi looked at his phone and stood up.

   “I’ll keep it in mind, Arlert.” And with that, he walked off to fitness — where Aella would be. The whole popularity thing didn’t bother Levi much, except when the one person he was trying to talk to kept getting glares from every horny girl in the room wanting to have a go with Levi’s dick. Levi rolled his eyes and flipped off the girls before dragging Aella to a private sector for people who wanted to work out alone or in groups of two. Aella looked at Levi with the look of ‘you didn’t need to do that’; irking Levi to no end especially whenever he defended her from their comments.

   “Why do you keep letting them hurt you like that, Dumbass?” Aella stared at Levi; unaffected by his insults and harsh words.

   “Because I deserve it after last year. Now, that’s enough talk about the past, let’s just work out so we don’t look like the fuckin preps.” Levi followed Aella to the library for study hall, though Levi still had yet to need it — he finished all his assignments in period 1; irking Aella whenever he rubbed it in. Levi sat down next to Aella at a table in the corner and watched her pull out every material she needed.

   “Thought you didn’t like having friends.” Aella snarked, working on every bit of homework she was assigned for the entire day. Levi clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes.

   “I never said that; you assumed, Brat. If you didn’t realize already, but I’m in a bit of a problem that won’t stop coming back to bite me in the ass.” Aella scoffed and continued to type her essay due next month. Hey, it never hurt to get ahead, right? Especially when your unexpected new roommate is a fucking gangster.

   “Don’t you have homework too?” Levi shrugged his shoulders and leaned back in his chair.

    “Unlike you, I get it done all in class.” Aella’s jaw dropped.

   “Pardon me, but what the fuck? How in the fucking hell did you manage to crank out a ten god damned page essay in one 90 minute class?” Levi mentally face-palmed — he never mentioned once to Aella that he graduated when he was 16 after founding No Sympathy and getting access to online education to make up for the years lost from living in the slums.

   “I graduated years ago, brat. I skipped five grades in one year the moment I had access to online schooling whenever things were quiet.” Aella groaned at the thought of asking about his GPA, but she already knew it was probably a 4.0 with no effort whatsoever.

    “Can you at least help me, then? I have work later and I’m not sure I’ll be able to finish all of this.” Aella was as desperate as it comes when asking the Levi for help. She still had a job to uphold even if Levi started helping with paying the bills.

   “No.” Levi was unfazed by Aella’s exasperated self and looked away to scan the library while she continued to beg for his help.

    “Please, I’m begging you, Levi.” Aella was now not only stressed about a new roommate, a job, finances, and where she’d even go to college — if she could even afford it –– but now she had to deal with homework that almost cost her to be held back because all of her assignments were late; she spent all her time working with no time whatsoever for homework. This year was no exception.

    “No.” Aella gave up trying to ask any help from Levi whatsoever — she simply sucked it up and worked on everything as quickly and efficiently as possible. As soon as school ended, Aella bolted out to get home to eat something before going in, leaving Levi to bolt after her in confusion.

   “Brat! The hell you going?”

   “Home!” As soon as Aella shoved the key into the apartment and got in, she dropped her backpack and ran to the fridge to make anything that’d keep her from starving, knowing that she’d be too tired to eat after work. 

   “Where’s your damn car?” Levi strode in, leaning against the door frame; his backpack still strung on one of his shoulders. Aella looked up from her food and raised her brow.

   “Can’t afford one. You’ve seen this apartment — it’s all I can afford and even then I’m struggling to keep myself off of the streets.” Levi closed the door and gently set his stuff on the couch before padding over to where Aella resided.

    “Why not live with your family?” Levi’s curiosity peaked.

   “Hate me; like everyone else. Got kicked out two years ago.” Aella answered so nonchalantly like it was an obvious answer, though the hurt in her eyes was evident and shown right through Levi — she suffered just as much as he did and had no one to help her. Aella turned back, walked to her backpack, and started to pack for work. The room was silent after Levi’s question — he knew he stepped too far but also knew Aella forgave him as long as he never brought it up once more; Aella sighed and ruffled her hair after looking at the clock 20 minutes later.

   “I gotta go. You have a phone?” Levi grunted and tossed his unlocked burn phone to her. Aella set up her contact info for Levi to reach her in case anything happened.

   “There. Call me if you fuck anything up.” Levi raised a brow and gave Aella a look of ‘are you fucking serious’.  As soon as Aella left, Levi looked around. Dust had covered everything — Levi felt disgusted at how little Aella must’ve cleaned the place. Levi walked to one of the cabinets in the kitchen to see glorious unused cleaning supplies that even came with the holy grail itself — bleach. Levi greedily grabbed every single product and started with a round of dusting and sweeping, then added a single layer of bleach on every hard surface that wasn’t the dark wood floors or the walls, followed by a good old fashion soap and water scrubbing while on his hands and knees, repeated about three times after until he finally moved on to the floors and walls. After deeply cleaning the floors and walls, Levi attacked the windows with Windex and polished them until they reflected everything — even the floors and countertops were so clean Levi could see his reflection in them; he even cleaned his room, the bathroom, and Aella’s room.

     Levi retreated back into the living room and looked at Aella’s full backpack; she needed all the help she could get with her assignments — Levi saw her planner full with 4 essays due ranging from tomorrow to next month; to say Aella must’ve been stressed was an understatement. Levi carried her backpack to the table and started doing everything to either completion or half-way to completion until he decided two hours of work was enough — Aella should be getting home soon at any minute. Levi put every single item back into the backpack and placed it on the couch where Aella left it. Aella sighed, brushing a rogue hair out of her face while she unlocked her apartment’s door — oh the benefits of living in a complex where the building had access to every single apartment outside. When she walked in she was greeted with a clean space and reading Levi — Aella smiled and silently thanked Levi as she walked to the couch to collapse — collapsing right next to Levi. Aella didn’t care if Levi would yell at her, she rested her head on Levi’s lap; eventually feeling Levi’s fingers thread through her hair while he read — Aella watching some late night show.

   Aella supposed that this entire arrangement wouldn’t be that bad.

[cobaincreates]

now it’s one on one

warnings: joe mazzello being a cute fuck

count: 1.6k

before you say anything yes i know the ending sucks but yet you’re still reading this because joe likes to murder us

i fuckin hate this man but enjoy! my heart hurts

gif is not mine

— — —

“if we get caught i’m blaming you.” you muttered to joe as he loosened a few cymbals on the drum set. he grinned widely and you looked over your shoulder, keeping an eye out for ben. 

the whole crew and cast were just finishing up lunch, and you and joe had snuck away a few minutes earlier. there had been a bit of a prank war going on between you three ever since you had been casted. it had been the most fun you'd ever had and you had particularly become close with joe mazzello instead of the guy that played your boyfriend/husband. you really got along well with everyone, but joe just seemed to draw you in more with his humor. he was always making you laugh, and vice versa.

"hurry up," you patted his back when you turned to him. "i still didn't get a biscuit and i'm dying for one."

"we can make some later! this takes time."

"i know for a fact that you, let alone anyone else, cannot make those biscuits as perfectly as kim can. and lunch is over, so ben will be here any minute!"

"don't pressure me!" he whispered, making you laugh at his wide eyes.

you watched the side of his face for a moment and couldn't help but blush at the thoughts that had been reoccurring for the past few weeks. you really enjoyed his company and there weren’t any signs that made you think that he felt differently. it seemed as though everyone on set knew it and they wondered why you hadn't gotten the part for john deacon's wife instead. but you were strict with yourself and you knew it wasn't smart to start anything with joe, no matter how much you wanted to. you enjoyed just goofing around with him for now though.

"oi! what are you two doing?"

your head snapped over your shoulder where you saw ben making his way out onto the large stage. "oh shit," joe muttered and quickly took your hand, dragging you off the drum riser and running as ben started to chase you both. you laughed all the way to the dressing rooms, apologizing to some crew members at near misses. joe slammed the door behind him and leaned against it, breathing heavily.

"don't make me break down this door, mazzello!" ben shouted from the outside, rattling the doorknob. you bent over in laughter, clutching your stomach from having run so fast and not being able to take a breath.

"try it and you'll be paying for it!"

"ben, i'm sorry!" you wheezed. "he made me do it!"

"everybody on set!"

you stood up straight and sighed heavily, listening to the intercom. you had a feeling ben didn't pay attention to it even though his grip on the doorknob let up. joe moved off the door cautiously and turned the knob, but immediately closed it.

"you can't hide in there forever," ben said on the other side. you bit your lips shut, laughter still shaking your body. "we have to go to set. i promise i won't do anything."

"yeah, okay," joe exaggerated with a roll of his eyes at you over his shoulder.

you stepped forward and touched his arm to move away from the door. you opened it a smidge and looked up at ben with a sweet smile. "now remember, my sweet, sweet husband, i'm your wife. and if you do anything to me, that'll be domestic abuse."

"just give me joe and we'll call it even."

you looked over at joe watching you anxiously behind the door and his face dropped when you shrugged your shoulders. "traitor!"

"i'm sorry, but i don't want to get fired today."

you walked out of the room just as ben walked in. you laughed at the noises joe made as you walked down the hall back to stage. a couple makeup artists came over to you and fixed your makeup. ben and joe emerged and you couldn't help but look at joe amusingly as he rubbed his shoulder. he stuck his tongue out at you and you grinned, focusing back on your hair being brushed to perfection.

the next morning you rolled out of bed for an early call. you had spent last night out late with joe and gwilym, mostly just hanging out at gwilym's house for movies and such. the moment you stood up and did your morning stretches, there was a knock on your hotel room door. you assumed it was your assistant to remind you that you had to leave soon for set so you didn't bother checking through the peephole. when you opened the door though, in just your pajamas and messy hair, you were met with joe and ben.

you eyed them suspiciously as they held coffees in their hands. "oh no. i don't like this one bit. you look like two mischievous little boys and i am not a mother."

joe laughed at your comment and handed you the second coffee he held. "good morning to you too, sunshine," ben greeted as he stepped inside the room. joe followed him as you closed the door, it clicking shut. you took a sip of the coffee and relished in the taste. it was just how you liked it.

"we just thought we'd carpool." joe said as he turned to face you. ben took a seat on one of the empty armchairs that you hadn't thrown your stuff in.

"hmm, i'm sure."

you eyed them both a little longer than usual, wondering what they had up their sleeves. it wasn't like them to just appear behind your door, much less give you a ride to set. you wondered if they had put something in your coffee, but they also seemed too innocent to do that. you took another sip before you set it down on the table in front of the bed and picked out comfortable clothes to wear.

"don't do anything while i'm in the bathroom," you pointed at both of them as you held the clothes to your chest. you turned without gauging their expressions and pushed the door open. "jesus christ!" you jumped and shrieked when a loud noise erupted in the bathroom, joe and ben immediately laughing from behind you. your heart beat in your chest as you turned around to watch them double over, joe's face skewing up in pure amusement. looking around the bathroom for what the sound could've been, you touched the door again and realized that there was an air horn taped to the wall behind it.

"you're on his team now?" you pointed at ben, staring at joe in shock. "i thought we were on a team!"

"that's what you get for helping him yesterday," ben countered as he calmed down. joe breathed deeply, a hand to his chest.

"both of you better watch your backs." you threatened and closed the door behind you so you could change. you did it rather fast, paranoid that they'd pull another trick on you. when you were freshened up and ready for the day, you walked back out and gathered your things, not even bothering to walk out of the room with them. they followed after you as they chuckled a little.

you let a few days pass before you did anything in retaliation. it also gave you enough time to think about what you'd do next while also keeping the boys on their toes. ben wasn't so much a priority as much as joe was because joe was easy to get. you knew ben was a bit trickier. when you finally had come up with an idea while sitting in the hair and makeup trailer with everyone, you couldn't stop laughing at yourself. you had the perfect prank to pull on joe as you watched him behind you.

the next day you went into the trailer early before anyone else had and you convinced one of the hairdressers to help you out. you made sure the hairdresser wouldn't tell him anything about it until the rollers were in his hair and ready to be taken out. you set up your phone so it'd be pointed straight at him. it was difficult to keep still when everyone arrived and sat down in their respective chairs. you kept a close eye on joe as the hairdresser talked to him about what he was doing for the scenes they'd be shooting today. surprisingly, you kept your composure as the rollers were placed.

you started recording on your phone the moment the rollers were being taken out and you bit your lips shut, hoping no one would notice.

"wow, it looks great," joe said, brushing a hand through the tiny curls.

your chest caved, the laughter nearly getting out of your lips before you kept it back. you zoomed in on joe’s hair and his face as he played around with it.

“is it going to stay like this while filming?” he wondered, looking up at the hairdresser beside him innocently.

“oh, it’ll stay like that all right.”

“why do you say it like that?”

everyone else in the trailer had looked over at joe, some of them shocked. “do you not know what perm means, joe?” gwilym asked with his similar styled wig on.

“what does it mean?” joe sat up straighter in his chair.

“it’s means permanent, joe,” lucy said, looking past gwilym.

“it’s permanent?”

your body was shaking with laughter as your hairdresser stopped what she was doing like everyone else to watch joe. you couldn’t contain yourself any longer as he panicked and he immediately turned in his chair. luckily, a grin spread on his face at the sight of your phone on him.

“you did this!”

you zoomed in again on his face as he stood up and came at you, gripping your shoulders and squeezing lightly. you kept recording him as the boys teased him about his freshly curled hair.

“i told you to watch your back.” you joked.

“what did you do to ben then?”

“nothing, he’s an angel.”

[ryansfabray]

Pretty Woman | Scene Auction

Who: Ryan Fabray & Rachel Berry ( @tinkerstarberry )

When: Monday 6.10.19

Scene Won:  Roleplay; sexual. Hired sex worker.

Rachel had picked out her most expensive, most beautiful dress for the night — a little for her own benefit, but mostly for her new Domme. If she was going to be a high end prostitute for Ryan, she was going to sell it. Not to mention it was incredibly helpful in getting into character, which was a big deal for an actress like Rachel. She got in position before knocking on the woman's door, one hand on her waist, trying to look as confident as she could. Once the door was finally opened, she shot a smirk at the other girl, "Hello, ma'am. My name is Rachel Berry, I'll be your companionship for the evening."

In all honestly, Ryan felt a little rusty going into the scene with Rachel. She couldn't remember the last time she properly dommed someone and it made her a little nervous, not that it could be detected. She dressed in one of her favorite pieces of black lingerie paired with a silk robe she used more for ambience than to actually cover herself up. She enjoyed roleplaying so much because she loved getting into a different character. She always committed fully and from what little she knew of Rachel, she would approach this scene the same way. At the knock, she was finally starting to get into the mindset of a rich upper class woman thoroughly enjoyed buying pretty little things to occupy her time and bed. Her hair fell down her back in loose curls and her face made up in fake eyelashes and red lipstick. Ryan flashed a smirk as she opened the door, twirling her finger around to indicate that she wanted to see everything the girl was offering before letting her in.

Rachel was a little taken aback when she saw Ryan; not exactly by anything she did but by her beauty and poise. Even if they weren't doing a scene in which she was paid to make any of her desires come true, she'd gladly do it anyway. At the Domme's request, Rachel simply nodded once, smirk still in her face, and turned slowly, hoping to show off her curves, which were accentuated by her tight dress. "I hope this is everything you wanted," she spoke with confidence, her gaze moving up and down Ryan's body, still very much intoxicated by her looks. "I can promise I'm well worth your time and money.  I do anything to make my clients happy," maybe her lines were a little cheesy, but when it came to roleplaying, weren't they always? All it mattered was making sure Ryan got exactly what she asked for.

Ryan was thoroughly impressed with what she was sent, but she couldn't let that on too much. Otherwise she wouldn't work as hard to earn her approval. So her face remained neutral. The way that dressed hugged her curves was enough to make anyone stir with want. "You're certainly very nice to look at. You must be new if they're just sending you to me now." She might have given away just how many pretty little things she's payed for, but there was no shame. She was the one with the money after all. "Anything huh? I'd really like to put that to the test." She stepped to the side to let the girl in, then led her into the bedroom. It wasn't in it's usual state. Instead, the curtains were drawn and there were candles lit around the room and the bed was littered with toys, props, and instruments she wanted to use. To get even further into character, she pulled a bundle of hundreds wrapped in a rubberband from her dresser and flashed it to Rachel. "This is what you're working for." Ryan tossed the money back where she got it from and took a seat on the bed. "Strip."

"I'm new, but I've been called a rising star at the agency," Rachel grinned as she stepped into the suit, unable to stop herself from dropping that little reference; she figured it wasn't enough to break character, at least not the character she was playing: Rachel Berry, the young, feisty prostitute who moved to the big city hoping to be a big star, but was forced to sell her body to make a living (she ends up loving it). "And please, hold me to the 'anything'. I'll go as far as I have to for your pleasure." The bedroom was impressive — breathtaking, even. It was impossible to not want to be fucked under that candlelight. "That should be enough, thank you," the Submissive said with a nod, her eyes following the money for a bit (it was why she was there in the first place). She didn't waste any time following the Domme's orders, slowly taking off her dress, exposing her skin inch by inch, until it finally dropped to the floor, exposing her naked body — Rachel Berry, the prostitute, didn't wear underwear for her top clients. "What should I do for you now, ma'am?"

Ryan quirked an eyebrow at the nod to her affiliation with stars, appreciating the personalization of her role. For Ryan to fall into the headspace of a wealthy upper eastside woman who enjoyed the company of young escorts, she just channeled her mother. Not that Judy was any of those things, but in a different universe, she could see her mother living a life like that.  If alcohol was allowed on campus, she would have been sipping on a glass of wine as she watched Rachel strip down in front of her. She was visibly pleased that there was nothing on under her dress and she beckoned the girl to come forward with the twist of her finger. "I want to get acquainted with what I paid for." She ran her fingers up and down the prostitute's body, showing no shame as she pinched at her nipples and caressed her inner thighs. "Gorgeous," she praised. "Now down on your knees. I want to see how that pretty mouth feels on my pussy."

Had Rachel not been embodying another character, it'd probably have been much, much weirder to undress in front of Ryan, considering the weekend she just had with her twin sister, but for the time being, she had to block that out, stepping forward when requested of her, letting the Domme's hand explore her body at will. The brunette let out a low hum of pleasure as she did so, getting louder just as she pitched her nipple, her own pussy growing wetter by the second as she enjoyed feeling used by the other woman. "Anything for you, Miss," she repeated with a grin, promptly getting on her knees, her fingers finding the back of Ryan's leg, tracing random patterns in anticipation. "I'll be good, I'll eat your pussy any way you want me to."

Ryan left any semblance of herself at the door of her bedroom. She wasn't Ryan and the girl on her knees before her wasn't Rachel. It's what made it so easy for Ryan to be so forward with the girl who was fucking her sister. The role she was playing made it easy for her to focus in on the intoxicating sounds the prostitute was producing as her hand explored her body. "Mm. I do like the sound of that. Seems as though you might be worth my money after all." As the girl fell to her knees, Ryan spread her legs and unclipped the bottom of her lacy one piece, giving the other girl full access. "Well let's start with running that tongue up and down my slit. Then you can fuck me with that tongue before sucking on my clit until I'm cumming all over that gorgeous face of yours."

Rachel couldn't help but lick her lips once Ryan undressed in front of her, showing off her beautiful pussy. Sure, money was her first motivation for anything, she wouldn't be a prostitute if it wasn't, but getting to fuck beautiful women like the blonde in front of her certainly wasn't bad either. "Right away, ma'am," the brunette nodded at the orders and got to work, slowly running her tongue over the girl's slit, moaning low at the taste. She held on to the woman's legs as she did so, moving up and down her pussy to make sure she'd appreciated every inch of what her client was offering her. "You're delicious," Rachel murmured against the woman, before pushing her tongue inside.

"Mm. Good girl." Ryan loved her an eager whore. Green eyes were trained on the woman between her legs as she used that expert tongue to wind her up. She certainly knew what she was doing and it earned her a slew of moans and praised from the blonde. She rolled her hips into the other woman's mouth, smirking at the compliment. "Less talking, more licking, whore." Playing this 'role' meant giving into her desires with no sense of control or regulation. As soon as she started fucking her with her tongue, Ryan's head fell back and she just enjoyed the sensations that the other girl was providing her. "There ya go. Just like that. Now suck that clit and fuck me with your fingers. Make me cum."

Rachel couldn't help but open a shy smirk when Ryan called her a whore — it was exactly what she was. A greedy whore who'd do anything for the right amount of money... especially eat some wonderful pussy. Obediently, the brunette shut her mouth, using it instead to worship her client, hungry fucking her with her tongue until it was time for her fingers, pushing first one, then another into her heat, thrusting them firmly. Rachel flattened her tongue against Ryan's clit for a moment, moaning low at the taste before she wrapped her lips around it, sucking harshly as her fingers began to pick up pace.

Rachel wasn't just a pretty whore, she was a whore who knew exactly how to follow instructions. Ryan continued to roll her hips into the other girl's mouth, the sounds of her moans filling her bedroom. Not only did she know how to follow instructions, she was an expert at using her mouth for pleasure. It didn't take long for Ryan to be pushed to the cusp of release. "That's a very good whore." Her hand found purchase in the brunette's hair, pulling at her roots as she continued to chased her orgasm. "Mm. Just like that. Fuckin' just like that." It was just a few moments before she was cumming right against her mouth. Her body went rigid and her breathing more raged, but she was nowhere near done with her. After her body calmed a bit, she stood up and pulled Rachel up by her hair, throwing her down on the bed and straddling her face. "Tongue out and flat," she ordered before picking up the momentum and riding her face towards another orgasm.

Being called a 'good whore' hit right on Rachel's sub-space. Even more than doing her part justice, she needed to please Ryan, give her what she wanted, and being a good whore was a part of that. As the blonde continued to speak, Rachel continued to give her what she was asked, fucking her deep with her fingers as she worked the girl's clit with her mouth. Ryan's orgasm felt almost as good for herself than it did for the other woman, and, selfishly, Rachel continued to work her tongue against her pussy, cleaning out her juices until she was forced to the bed. The order alone send shivers down the whore's spine, but to have her ride her face was an even greater pleasure still. Rachel could only moan as she followed orders once again, flattening her tongue and forcing it against Ryan, desperate to make her come a second time, her own pussy looking for pleasure, clenching around nothing.

While it usually made no difference, Ryan was enjoying how small Rachel was compared to her. It made her easy to throw around and after that small rush of power she had over the whore, she was left wanting more of that. She latched on hand into the brunette's hair while the other held both of her hands up above her head. Ryan was riding the high from her previous orgasm, clit still swollen and sensitive as she slid it up and down Rachel's tongue. She came again, though it felt more like an aftershock from the first orgasm she had. Still, Rachel looked sexy as hell all flustered, her lips glistening with Ryan's arousal. She released her hold on the girl and moved backwards on the bed before leaning down and capturing the other girl's lips in a searing kiss, moaning at her taste. With a smirk on her lips, she ran her fingers through Rachel's slick folds. "Oh, you must be aching to be fucked, hm?"

After spending most of the previous week and the entire weekend deep into a Domme mindset, Rachel appreciated being the one pushed around and used for once. The way Ryan grabbed her hair and rode her face so masterfully kept sending shiver after shiver down her spine, her own hips pathetically rolling on their own in a pointless search for friction. The brunette let out another loud moan once the Ryan came for the second time, covering her face in her juices, reveling in the idea of being a dutiful whore for her client. Rachel had barely any time to catch her breath before sharing the kiss with the blonde, and even less time still before the girl was touching her desperate pussy — she had to bit her own lips hard to keep herself from whimpering. "If that's what you want from me, Miss..." she couldn't help but buck her hips, pushing herself against Ryan's fingers. "This whore would love to be fucked by you."

“I bet this whore would,” Ryan offered in agreement, her fingers dipping into the girl’s opening. It was exhilarating the power she held over Rachel. And sure the physical pleasure was a driving factor for Ryan but the thrill of throwing Rachel around and having the whore at her mercy was rising to the top. “On your hands and knees, whore,” Ryan barked as she stood up and put on her strap on and coming up behind the girl when she was in position. “Beg for it. Beg for my cock.”

Rachel gasped weakly when Ryan's finger moved inside her, a testament to how turned on she was for the other woman. Even without payment Rachel would be happy to let her do anything she wanted to her body — not that she would tell her that, of course, she badly needed her money to pay for college. The brunette quickly obeyed Ryan's orders, getting on all fours as fast as she could, perking her ass to present her willing holes to her costumer. Rachel looked over her shoulder to take a peek at Ryan getting behind her with the strap on, and the image alone was nearly enough to make her cum on the spot. "Please, Miss, I need your cock so bad... I need you to use me... I have to be a good whore for you, _please."

Ryan merely smirked at the delicious way the other girl was begging. She clenched her pussy against the vibrator that was pressed against her and hummed her approval as Rachel's ass swayed from side to side. "What a pretty whore." She grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her back up against her chest. "I bet you'd do anything for this cock wouldn't you?" With her free hand, she slapped the girl's ass then threw her back against the bed, pressing her face into the mattress as she pushed the toy into her desperate hole. "I want you to be loud, whore. I want you to scream as I fuck you."

Rachel let out another pathetic whimper as Ryan grabbed her hair and slapped her — she was absolutely at her mercy. She nodded quickly at her question, pushing her ass against the woman in a desperate attempt to find pleasure. "Anything," she confessed, "I'd do anything for you to fuck me." When the plastic cock finally entered her pussy,  she did exactly as she was told, letting out a loud moan, and grabbing the bed sheets to keep herself from pushing against Ryan even more. "Thank you miss... thank you for fucking this whore," she sobbed, trying not to hold her words back even slightly, "you feel so good in my pussy... don't stop, please don't stop."

Ryan's mind wandered at the girl's confession. Anything was tempting, but she didn't need more than she currently had. She didn't more than to have Rachel at her mercy and she certainly didn't need any more than those sounds she was met with and the perfect way her ass felt against her as she fucked her from behind. "There ya go," Ryan praised with another slap to the ass. The vibrator against her clit was enough to push her over the edge once again and it was only enhanced by the way Rachel's ass bounced against the base of the toy. "Oh don't you worry, whore, I'm not stopping until you're cumming around this big cock and yelling out my name, letting everyone know just how good I'm fucking you." Ryan was dangerously close, but wanted to save it for the right time.

To anyone else, it might've looked like Rachel was simply trying to make Ryan's money worth by the way she fucked herself on her cock and kept getting louder and louder, but the honest truth was much simpler —she just wanted it that badly. Ryan fucked her masterfully and the strap on hit all the right spots inside her pussy, and she couldn't help but give herself completely to the Domme, dropping her head against the mattress and moaning. "I will, I'll let everyone know," she agreed, moving her head slightly and rolling her hips. Rachel was already so impossibly close to her orgasm after having the privilege of making her costumer cum twice, but she would never be crazy enough do anything without permission from Ryan, "May I please cum for your big cock?" The brunette begged, eyes closed shut as she reveled on the pleasure. "I'll scream your name, just please let me cum for you."

As Rachel fell forward into the mattress once again, she lodged both hands into her hips, holding her still so she could fuck her harder and deeper. “You better not hold back, whore,” Ryan retorted. A part of her wanted to make the girl wait, to hold on to this moment for as long as she could because she couldn’t get enough of it. Of the way she held both of them on the edge and the way Rachel was completely at her mercy. But Ryan was impatient and she was dangerously close to her own orgasm. She grabbed a fistful of brown hair so she could yank her back up against her, wanting to catch every reaction. “Cum for me whore. Let’s hear it.”

It was almost impossible for Rachel to hold back her orgasm with the way Ryan fucked her. Almost. She had never disobeyed a client before and she would do anything in her power to only cum when she was given the order. Normally the brunette would be forcing herself to get quieter as well, keep her moans to herself, but not this time, not after what Ryan told her — instead she moaned freely, loudly, letting out small curses every so often as she was taken over by the pleasure she felt. When the blonde grabbed her hair and told her to cum, however, there was nothing to be done. "Ryan," Rachel screamed, coming hard around her cock, her hips still moving back to meet the girl's thrusts. She was in heaven.

Ryan relished in how loud the other girl was getting, her moans and screams bouncing off the walls of her bedroom. The orgasm she'd been trying to hold off was already washing over her body by the time Rachel was calling out her own. She loved the way her name sounded coming off the girl's lips. Pure ecstasy. Her hips continued to move on their own accord, helping the whore ride out her orgasm for as long as she possibly could. Her ears were ringing and her body was covered in sweat as she tried to catch her breath, slowly pulling the toy from the other girl and unhooking the harness before throwing the toy on the floor. She flopped down onto the bed with a sated look on her face, peering over at the girl next to her. "Very good girl." Her touches were gentler as she ran her hand up and down Rachel's back, signaling the end of the scene. "How are you feeling?"

Rachel continued to whimper as she rode her orgasm, her hips slowly stopped moving until they simply fell to bed, exhausted after the intensity of the scene. Ryan's words and touches sent a wonderful shiver down her spine, and she turned to the girl, a wide, satisfied grin on her face. "I'm feeling fantastic, Miss. Thank you for asking," it took some effort, but eventually managed to herself back up, sitting on the bed next to the blonde, "but this wasn't about me. Was the scene everything you hoped for? Because I have to say, it was really fun for me to have sex for money," she joked with a soft laugh. "Though I insist that you keep it; it was too good for me to charge a single dollar for it."

Ryan nodded. Both to acknowledge Rachel's appreciation and to convey her similar feeling at the moment. She sighed contentedly and pressed her palm against her forehead, trying to soak up some of the sweat before turning to face the girl who was sitting up next to her. Ryan smiled and nodded once more. "Everything I could have asked for and then some," she clarified. "I'm glad you were the one who chose my scene. It was exactly what I had pictured."

[monolid-monologues]

Wtf is going on - Part I.

#12.

READY OR NOT..............

The next three weeks feel impossible. 

My KNEES are KNOCKING.

TOO MUCH IS HAPPENING

Fuck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’m losing my mind lol. I’m going to take myself through this week by week. Breaking up my next 3 blog posts into a Three part series, and i’m going to slowly tread wtf is going on.

1.) MY JOB, MY LIFE

Karina and i drove LA >> Oakland >> LA in one day to audition for 5 minutes. LoL. We’re crazy and we know that. The troubling fact is this job means quitting my current one and moving to Oakland.

In February at the festival in Oregon, we were invited to audition for Kaiser Permanente’s Educational Theatre. They employ actors to perform shows for kids.

It pays more than my current job. It is less stable than my current job.

I’m TERRIFIED of having *that* conversation with my dad, and my office.

Desperate to avoid a serving job (having worked them since i was 16), i approached my dad for a job at his company. He knows about me and theater. He knew to be cautious. He asked me commit 2 years. I promised my dad 2 years; it’s only been 6 months. There’s a voice in my head chiding me for even considering this new opportunity.

And part of me is very very resistant to the reality of this new opportunity. Moving to Oakland means moving away from Robin, from Heather, from my studio, from all the work i’ve been doing in L.A to lay down some roots. Working full time at a corporate theater. Suffering bay area rent. Potentially losing my dad’s support (he is helping me with car and insurance payments). And pouring so much time into someone else’s theater. And potentially neglecting my own dreams -- risk of being too burnt, busy and broke to manifest my own theater projects. Not to mention all my fears around the importance of artistic freedom to me and needing to comply with a higher authority for paycheck’s sake (literal nightmare). And i just, might, very well, possibly, end up hating the job. 

I fear breaking my promise. Going back on my word. Owning up to the fact that i am not the loyal bitch we hoped i was. I fear these feelings of betrayal. I fear upsetting my dad and losing his support. I fear the disrespect i am slamming on my director & cecillia’s time and energy and trust in me. I fear that there is no “good” decision, but i can see Regret sitting atop my worst case scenario and i’m afraid that it doesn’t even really matter how things go, whether i stay or go, it’s all a sticky situation. 

If i get the job, but don’t go, i am still at the office. Sitting. So much sitting............clutching my small studio time like the life jacket it is...

If i get the job and want go, well, fuck, that’s a lot of, fuck. Can i put my independent theater dreams on hold? Is this experience worth pursuing? Is it worth upsetting my entire life here? Wow. Since when did i get so attached to my life here? I’ve worked so hard since i’ve been here, to seek, and seek, and plan, and build. I’ve been planning for my life here in L.A. I NeVER imagined relocating this soon. Turning my life upside down when i’ve literally JUST managed to get it looking right-side-up. f$&%@#$!

OKAY Normally, i’d wait to see if i got called back to start worrying. But this opportunity requiring 600 mile drives, requiring me and karina to rearrange chunks of our lives, to even be considered for the job, makes every step in the audition process so costly o_o.  We’re asking ourselves “if we do get called back, how are we even going to get there?”  We’re investing and sacrificing for a huge Maybe. Even pursuing the possibility is TOO MUCH!!!! yet here we are. Why? Why am i this crazy about a maybe?

L.A.’S BEEN GROWING ON ME. AND I MIGHT NOT GET THE JOB. LET’S KEEP IT SIMPLE, STUPID -- 

Tomorrow, we will find out if we’re called back. If we’re called back, the one thing i need to do (the scariest fkn thing ok) is ask for another day off (to secretly attend). If god blesses me with a Yes and my director is NOT fed up with my bullshit, the next thing is figuring out how tf to get there.  And that’s it. That’s it. That’s it. For now.

* * *

An interlude.)

What changes when i decide i’m tired of doubting myself? Staying off social media is a great relief. I stepped back because i was starting to carry some duty to entertain or cater to the tastes of the people who engage with what i post. The anxiety that begins to stir between myself and thoughts of people far away -- with heavy social media comes this baggage we pick up and hold nearly voluntarily. 

Just as we are curious how someone else’s life is going, we imagine other people are curious about ours. 

We second-guess what we want to post.  When it’s about what we want to share in the first place. How anybody receives it is their business. Leave them tf ALONE, LOL. Leave YOURSELF alone!

If it’s your career, you chase one of few formulas. If it’s your hobby, you draw from these formulas and mix in your personal flavor of “idgaf”. And if it’s mostly irrelevant to what you do/what you want, you’re not even bothered. *shrug* 

Every fuckin body will tell you, people who don’t frequent social media are happier. 

Do you think so? Do we think so?  I’m skeptical.  It’s easy to believe, given how much (admit it) time and attention social media sucks. But actually? Let’s be clear: who can know? Lol. The very point around people who don’t use social media is they are beyond the reach of our prying eyes. They are safe, much less susceptible to the wandering imagination of a distant relationship. They are out of bounds. 

Sometimes i wish i was that kind of person. Whoever that means.

I’m not. 

There’s something about getting to show something to hundreds of people. There’s something about connections waiting to be made. Paths that could cross. Click-holes where we lean outside of our usual environments. We are open to exposure and being exposed. We are creative with our public image. We narrate our own lives. We seek others’. ThaT PART. That part. “I will engage!!!!!!!!!!” 

Is it possible to have a healthy relationship with social media?

What does that look like?

There’s so much in our culture that discourages social media use - from mental health to physical health - we are told every day what the pitfalls are. We know it ourselves in living our lives. The common denominator to these warnings is usually over-consumption. Too much. Much too much.

If we are using social media, we are at risk. We know the risks. We live with the risks. ALAS -  we believe we can manage the time/space distortion that the social media universe rips into our lives. 

With social media comes this massive gravitational pull sucking us into a manufactured world. This tech, as far as i’m concerned, insanely complicates our lives - adding data to bodies, instant X long distance everything, and a level of productivity concerning online metrics that is often inversely proportional to our productivity offline. 

The most estranged relationships continue to fizzle quietly with mutual following. Our brains buzz “To post or not to post”. And our eyes are getting tired, our thumbs sore; our time and attention sinks and slips away from us. Like retribution for the discontent, disinterest, and laziness we risk habituating with social media.

We give access and have access and the ride is crippling or energizing depending on whatever people or time in your life. 

Do the rewards outweigh the risks?

* * *

II. SHOWTIME

IT’S GO TIME.

While i’m floundering in the dark about my job, my life, March is ending soon and come April comes the premiere and one-month-run of my new production, 1-800-PERFECTION. 

This is my first show in socal. My first show outside of Davis. My first full solo work. My first script-based PLAY in YEARS.

March Timeline:

meeting with studio manager to settle performance dates (today)

last full rehearsal (3/24 SAT)

tech rehearsal with Heather (3/30 SAT)

preview performance w/ talk back (3/31 SUN) YOU’RE INVITED. rose.artrat@gmail.com | please come! TIME: 1-3pm LOCATION: 1183 Kraemer Blvd, Anaheim, CA

April Timeline:

Dress Rehearsal  (week 1, TBD)

1st Show (week 2, TBD)

2nd show (week 3, TBD)

3rd Show (week 4, TBD) Tickets: $12 venmo  (seat reserved) or $10 cash at door (exact change!!!)

My radical marketing plan is to do it in person.  I wanna shit my pants thinking about it, but i’m determined to go out there into public places and invite people to my show face 2 face. I will certainly let you know how it goes. The experience may turn up a giant dumpster fire. :-)

Common questions when opening a new work include: what if ppl hate it? what if i hate it? what if no one comes? what if this is the end of my reputation as an artist as we know it? as i know it? what if i’m not ready? 

What if i didn’t rehearse enough? THIS ONE’S BEEN HAUNTING ME.

My best friend asks me how long i’ve been working on this play. I tell her i can afford 20 hours of studio time a month. It’s been almost 4 months now. And then she’s like, isn’t 20 hours...less than a day?  *brain explodes* Have i only worked on my show for LESS THAN 4 DAYS? IS IT LIKE THAT? 

It has been living, growing, changing with me day to day. But of course, 20 hours is really it of dedicated work time/space. 5 hours a week. 

I am used to working 30 hours per weeeeeek on a show.  that’s what i’m used to.

....................................................

I remember when i first found this studio offering exactly what i was looking for and could afford, i was ELATED to get 20 hours a month. Considering the ZERO work i was doing my first 2 months back in LA -- Getting 1 step closer to where i would be today - on the cusp of running a whole original ass show - was mooooreee than enough. 

But this is honestly one worry out of SO MANY, literally so many, that it’s all looking - sounding - and feeling increasingly ridiculous. because there’s just so much. *laugh cry emoji* * * * I’m never going to forget what i signed up for. Everything on my plate, i set up for myself.

Was i ready for all of this? No. Did i dream this up and seek its fruition? Hell yes. Even i know that only time will tell me What was What.  So, i will take it one fkn day at a time.

Maybe this is a lesson to follow your dreams no matter what, precisely BECAUSE you’ll never be ready for it. I can’t imagine being ready for what i’m going through these days. There’s no fucking way i could’ve known how stickyyyy things could get when i made my first studio payment in December, or asked my dad for a job in October.

But go through with it, we will, because we’ve reached the point where we must. I’m. Not. Looking. Back.

BUT I AM REALLY TRYING TO TAKE CARE OF MY HEALTH WHILE I’M WHIZZING ACROSS THE STATE AND PREPARING ALL THE SHOW THINGS. WISH ME SOME HONEST LUCK ON THAT.

So, I don’t have a dramatic poignant closer for you on this one. Let’s, uh, give that to Part 3, when we wrap this whole mess up. (ie. is Oakland rlly happening? how was canvassing the brea mall to advertise my show LMAO? did i lose my damn mind, or nah?)

Hi.  I just want to say, thank you for reading. Really. thank you.

I think my writing is suffering from the craziness atm.

* * *

i’ve committed to being vulnerable in writing every week.

previous letter: #11. detox,

drop me a line

http://monolid-monologues.tumblr.com/ask

[sachertortes]

Hi! i love Wintershock, BUT i’d love some Clint/Darcy with Mythical Creatures #3 (if you’re really feeling adventurous, how about Clint/Darcy/Bucky).

@huskiesfan-olicity-wintershock YES GOING THE ADVENTUROUS ROUTE WITH CLINT/DARCY/BUCKY ;) i reworked some teensy things from the prompt but the general idea is still there! I hope you like it - Darcy and her sharpshooter boyfriends, aww

Prompt: Mythical Creatures, #3,  “i keep getting into arguments with one of my classmates about things because they keep saying i’m wrong so i finally scream, ‘how would you know?!?’ and they’re like, ‘because i was THERE!’ and that’s how we all find out that there is a centuries-old vampire taking our British history class”

Pairing: Clint x Darcy x Bucky

Rating: M

Note: There’s vampires, descriptions of blood and blood drinking, etc.

The second Clint notices her, he can feel it. His boyfriend sits up just a little straighter, he stops breathing for a second. Clint was in the middle of telling him about “this sweet new arrow” he’d just customized for himself, but he trails off in the middle of his sentence.

He can’t blame him really.

She’s hard to miss when she walks into their British Art History class, with her long, dark hair, pale skin, and lovely red lips.

Their class is a night class, and every night she’s got a huge travel mug of coffee in her hand.

The professor calls on her often, and her answers are often correct and pretty insightful.

They learn her name.

Darcy.

“You think she’s cute,” Clint teases him one night when they stop by a burger place after class.

He sips at his soda. “Hell yeah.” Then, tentatively, “Don’t you?”

“Yeah, man. She’s fuckin’ gorgeous. And smart as hell. Remember what she said about Greek Mythology and that Waterhouse guy?”

“Well now I know you think she’s cute. You were actually listenin’ tonight.”

Clint chucks a French fry at him, which he picks from his shirt and chews on happily.

He shrugs. “S’okay, Clint. I like her too.”

Clint smirks at him from across the formica table.

One Wednesday night, she walks in and her lips are again a deep shade of red. Almost maroon. Her hair is glossy under the fluorescent light. Clint reaches over to place a hand on his knee.

She’s wearing yoga pants.

He’s got Clint pinned to their couch, shirtless and skin soft and warm.

He palms the blond over the front of his jeans, gently grasping at his hard cock through the fabric. Clint gasps and then retaliates by sucking a mark onto the side of his neck.

“You thinkin’ about her?” Clint growls into his ear. “Thinkin’ about what it’d be like to have her with us? Underneath us?”

“I am now,” he rasps. He nimbly undoes the button to Clint’s pants. “I wanna see her suck you off.”

“Fuck.”

“She won’t know how you like it,” he murmurs into the shell of Clint’s ear and smiles when he feels fingers press into his biceps. “So I’ll have to show her. Maybe we can take turns on ya.”

“Fucking hell,” Clint whimpers and presses himself closer.

There’s not much talking after that.

On Friday night, Darcy is already at her seat when they walk in. He flushes, slightly ashamed of how he and Clint used her image the last time they fucked. He looks over to Clint, and he’s seems a little pink too.

Christ, they’re pathetic.

The lecture begins and they’re doing their usual thing of trying to pay attention but not really.

“You there,” the professor says, pointing straight at Clint. “You in the purple sweatshirt.”

Clint’s head jerks up then he looks behind him. Bucky tries to hide his laughter. As if anyone else in this class wears a purple sweatshirt.

“Why do you think so many members of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood painted their muses as mythical creatures? Nymphs, goddesses, witches?”

Clint shrugs. “Maybe for accuracy? Maybe they were witches,” he says, and their classmates titter.

“They were not witches,” Darcy declares, turning back to glare at them from her seat in the front.

“Well, how would you know?” Clint asks. “You think a lady is just gonna admit that she’s a witch?”

Bucky groans.

“No, but – ”

“Then they could be witches.”

“They’re not!”

“’Cause you knew them personally, right?” Clint snickers.

“I know because I was there!” Darcy yells back.

The class is silent.

Darcy’s mouth is open in shock. She blinks rapidly for a bit then hurriedly begins shoving her papers and books into her bag. She slams the door shut behind her when she leaves.

Even the professor looks shocked.

The class is uncomfortably silent for a bit until someone makes a comment about “stress during midterms” and everyone chuckles, relieved.

“C’mon, we’re apologizin’,” he whispers to Clint as he gathers up their things to go after her. Clint nods. They sit in the back, so they manage to sneak out just fine.

They find her easily in the parking lot. She’s leaning against the hood of her car while sipping from her tumbler.

She rolls her eyes when she spots them.

“What do you want?” she asks, icily.

“To apologize,” Clint answers, fiddling with the strap of his bag. “I don’t know what I was thinking, I shouldn’t have…needled you like that.”

“He thinks he’s funny sometimes,” Bucky supplies giving her what he hopes is a winsome smile. “But he’s not.” Clint elbows him. “What? Sometimes you’re not that funny!”

Darcy smiles a little looking down at the shoes.

“I’m so sorry. I was an ass today and it won’t happen again,” Clint says, reaching for her coffee. “Let us buy you a coffee? Or, wait, if you don’t want coffee, maybe hot chocolate or something.”

“It’s fine,” Darcy insists, trying to get the plastic tumbler away from Clint.

“No, really please let us –”

“Seriously –”

And then Darcy yanks it back from Clint too hard and the container falls to the ground with a thump.

They all stare at the upended tumbler and thanks to the parking lot lights, its dark red contents spilling thickly onto the asphalt.

It takes a moment for his brain to catch up with his eyes, for his brain to form the word, ‘blood’.

“So…I might have meant it when I said that I was there. In 19th century England. I’m kind of a vampire?” she said.

“Kind of?” Bucky says.

“No. Absolutely. I’m absolutely a vampire.” Darcy sighs, tiredly. Bucky tries not to notice the way she’s still staring hungrily at the spilled…stuff…on the ground. Like she’d crouch down and lick it up if she weren’t in front of company.

“What are you gonna do now? Laugh at me? Refer me to university counseling? Try and drive a stake through my heart?”

“Nothing,” Clint says, with a finality in the word.

“…Nothing?” Darcy asks.

“Yeah. You’re a vampire. We’re human. It’s…fine,” Bucky finds himself saying. He means it.

Darcy blinks at the both of them, a pleased look forming on her face. “Okay.”

Clint tilts his head, leans across their table at the campus Starbucks to whisper, “Where do you get your…blood?”

“I have an arrangement with someone. A volunteer,” Darcy answers, picking at but not eating her slice of lemon pound cake. “No worries, my dude, everything’s 100% consensual.”

“Mirrors,” Bucky asks, while flipping through the pages of the textbook they’re supposed to be studying from. He’s curious and also kind of doesn’t want to be caught off guard when they have to walk past one or something.

“No reflection in mirrors, but I show up in pictures and stuff. I don’t know, it’s weird,” Darcy answers. “And Clint, don’t write in that book, it’s mine!”

“What about sunlight?” Clint asks. Darcy’s at their place again, scrolling through their Netflix. She puts a hell of a lot of cooking competitions onto their Watch List for someone who can’t even eat.

“Hm. Not a fan. Hence all the night classes.”

“Dirt,” Bucky says simply one evening when they’re driving.

“Wow. That’s kind of an obscure one. You got that from Bram Stoker, right?”

“Uhh. Not really,” Bucky confesses. “The 90s movie. With Winona Ryder.”

“Nice choice,” Darcy laughs. “But I don’t need to sleep in my native soil. Sounds like a pain in the ass, actually.”

“I thought you were gonna say pain in the neck,” Clint says from the backseat.

Bucky and Darcy groan in unison. “Bucky, stop this car, we’re making him walk home.“

“Soooo…” Clint trails off.

“Yeah?”

“Can you or can you not turn into a swarm of bats and fly away?”

“Oh my god.”

“So…yes?” Bucky asks.

“No!”

“I…kind of have a problem,” Darcy says when they open their apartment door for her. She looks even paler than usual, ashen even, and she seems unsteady on her feet. They usher her inside and she slumps onto their couch before continuing. “The ‘volunteer’ I told you about? Ian moved back to England like two weeks ago. I’ve been holding off and drinking animal blood since then but…I’m not feeling great, to be honest.”

She looks at them and then away, ashamed. “I know we haven’t known each other too long and I never would even presume to ask otherwise –”

“You can drink from me,” Clint says quickly, and Bucky wants nothing more than to smack him upside the head. They were trying to work out a way to ask Darcy to go with them first, to see if she even wanted to, if she even liked humans. This – this is way too much, too soon.

“Clint,” he rumbles, lowly.

“What? Look at her, she doesn’t look good. No offense, sweetheart.”

Darcy shrugs one shoulder.

Bucky bites the inside of his cheek. “Alright. If you want to.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ll need to eat after,” Darcy says, perking up a little. “Lots of iron, vitamins, that sort of thing. For the blood loss.”

Bucky’s on his phone in seconds, googling madly and then mentally putting together something from the meager contents of their kitchen.

“I just want to reassure you that um,” Darcy fiddles with the hair tie on her wrist. “Some of the more traditional vampires, especially the older generations intertwine the whole sex and blood drinking thing. Us younger ones,” she continues as if she wasn’t alive when horse-drawn carriages were a thing. “We don’t really do that anymore, so you don’t have to worry about…” she trails off, sliding a significant glance between he and Clint.

Before he can even formulate a response, (his brain is still stuck on the imagery of sex and blood and Darcy), Clint beats him to it.

“That would be alright, though, if you wanted.”

She looks at them, confused. “If I wanted what?”

“Y’know, um. The sex thing. And…more.”

Darcy blinks owlishly. “Oh! But I thought that you two, aren’t you…?”

“Yes, we are,” Clint explains. “But, uh…” He’s getting pink and he rubs a hand over the back of his neck.

“We’d been planning on askin’ you out,” Bucky finishes for him. “Both of us.”

“Both of you,” Darcy repeats.

“Yeah. But I mean, if you don’t want that –“

“No! Oh my god, I mean yes. Yes, I’d want that too!” Darcy shyly looks up at them, smiling a little and he can’t help but grin back, relief shimmering through him.

And with that, they get started. He’s nervous like he was for his first date with Clint.

“Okay, so, I’m going to drink from your neck. It only hurts for like, a second then you should start feeling…really nice. Kind of woozy and sleepy and happy.” She pauses and waits for Clint to acknowledge that he understands. Clint nods and she continues. “Afterwards, I’ll lick your wound to close it and then you should have a little something to eat and drink. Okay?”

Clint nods again.

“Alright. Umm, how about you sit here in front of the sofa. That way I’m behind you and I’m at the right height.” Darcy begins to tie her hair back.

“Should I stay?” Bucky asks, not sure if he’ll be breaching some sort of etiquette.

“Of course. You can stay if you want. Especially if all three of us are – if we’re going to be…”

“Oh.” Bucky smiles gently. “Then I’m staying.”

Then she leans down to Clint’s neck, and places her mouth over him and begins to drink.

Clint is silent and he begins to worry that he’s hiding his pain until Clint moans. It’s the same exact one he draws from him when he’s got his hand wrapped around his cock.

Darcy looks up and stares at him, through her lashes. He’d never seen her like this before, eyes bright and alert, with her cheeks flushed. He supposes it makes sense that she always seemed only pale and placid - she is a vampire. Her pretty lips are still attached to the curve of his boyfriend’s neck where he can see the slight throbbing of a vein as it pumps blood into Darcy’s mouth.

He doesn’t feel jealous. On the contrary, a soft groan is torn from him when he takes in the sight of Clint baring his throat, of Darcy’s slim fingers threaded into his boyfriend’s hair to hold him still.

When she’s done, when she’s laving over Clint’s neck to close the wounds, he’s not surprised to find that his dick is half-hard.

Still, he goes into the kitchen to prepare a glass of orange juice and a peanut butter and banana sandwich.

Clint manages to drink and eat without issue, albeit just a little slowly.

Afterwards, they position Clint into a comfortable position on the couch. Darcy even pulls a blanket over him.

“Hmmmmmm,” Clint says, smiling as his eyes drift shut. “S’real good. Thanks, Darcy. Thanks, Buck.”

Darcy giggles, brushes spiky blond hair off of his forehead and says, “Clint will be out of commission for an hour or two at least.”

She walks over to him, then crowds him until he’s on back on the armchair. There’s a carnal gleam in her eyes when she sits on his lap and straddles him.

He swallows against a dry throat. A drop of red is at the corner of her lips. He reaches up with his thumb and pushes it back into her mouth. Her tongue is still slightly warm from the blood and he can’t hold back a noise from the back of his throat when she sucks on finger so hard her cheeks hollow.

She releases his thumb, and murmurs, “Any ideas for what we can do while we wait?”

[fly-like-a-grayson]

Yellow Sweater (Jared Kleinman x Reader)

A/N: This BARELY fits the request and I’ll rewrite if I need to. I promise. 

Request:  Hi there! Could you pls write some Jared Kleinman x Reader where the Reader is the quiet but stunning girl who all the guys are after and Jared feels like she’s way super out of his league because “Holy Fuck, I’m just a lowly class clown/hacker and she’s a fucking princess” but as he starts talking to her, he realizes there is smarts as well as deep insecurity underneath her looks & deep convos ensue and they soon start dating? Bonus pts for Jared fist-pumping the air when she says yes. Thanks!

WC: 2,201

Warnings: Language, Sex mention

“Look, Tom, all you have to do is suck it up and use your paladin instead of your bard,” Jared tried to sway the younger boy he was talking to.

Tom sighed, “I don’t know, Jared. There’s a lot at stake, I mean Lein is my pride and joy. I can’t lose her just for some simple raid.”

Jared groaned, “Do you want 3,000 gold coins, or not?”

“Fine, I’ll do it, but you have to buy the pizza,” Tom said leaving to go to his own class.

Jared smiled to himself, “Oh, freshman. So gullible.” He went to sit down in what he thought was the perfect seat in the entire classroom, the desk that was in the middle of the back row. It gave him the perfect cover to sit on his phone if the lesson got boring, the perfect view of the board, and it was right next to you.

After all these months of his sneaking glances at you, he never got sick of it. Every day when you came into class, he felt his heart flutter. You were beautiful and everyone knew it. He guessed that’s why you never told him to stop looking at you because he wasn’t the only one. Jared knew there was something different about you. Not just because you sometimes drew on your arms or would sit and try to touch your tongue to your nose. No, it was because every boy with some high standing position in the teenage social ladder had asked you out, and you never said yes. Jared always assumed this was the goal, you know? Go out with the captain of the football team graduate college with a bachelor’s degree and live a nice suburban life with your two perfect kids. Well apparently for you, it wasn’t.

Today, you had chosen to wear a pair of jeans and a loose mustard yellow sweater. Jared had seen that sweater many times. He enjoyed it, it looked soft. All he wanted to do was touch it, but he knew he couldn’t. You could deal with him staring but he knew you wouldn’t be okay with someone just touching you.

As the class went by, he didn’t pay one bit of attention to whatever the teacher was saying. He was too busy with imagining different conversations you two could be having but never did. And that’s how that class went every day. Jared would stare at you, wish to talk to you, not talk to you, and repeat. He was sure you weren’t into him, or even wanted to be friends with him. After all this time with being in the same class as him, you would’ve talked to him right? Well, he hadn’t done that to you, so maybe you did want to know him. He’ll never know unless he tried.

The day in class, Jared decided to be suave and ask you if you had a pencil. You pointed out to him that he had one sitting on his desk. He started to get flustered and panicked, throwing the pencil to the other side of the room and saying that he didn’t have one. You laughed and handed him one of your mechanical ones, instead of one of your pastel wooden pencils. He froze with the pencil in his hand. He was taken back at your laugh. Sure he had heard your small giggles when someone said something stupid in the class, but your laugh that was a completely different story. It was… it was… it was beautiful. That’s the only way Jared could describe it. The rest of the day, he was very giddy and his friends noticed it.

“Why are you so happy?”, Tom asked Jared at lunch.

“You’ll never believe it,” Jared said with a cocky smile.

Tom scoffed, “Try me.”

“I made Y/N Y/L/N laugh today.”

Tom looked at Jared in disbelief, “No fuckin’ way.”

Jared leaned back in his chair, “Yeah, a full on genuine laugh.”

“Well, how did you do it?”

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” he said with a wink.

A girl walking by said, “He threw his pencil across the room.”

“Can it, Brenda!”

Over the next few days, Jared brought up the confidence to talk to you more and more. He asked you about how your day was if you understood what the teacher was talking about, and what stuff you liked. He really felt like you enjoyed his company at school, maybe he should try for outside of school. In class, he asked you if you wanted to see the Emoji Movie with him that weekend. You cringed but said yes, but quickly asked if it was as friends or if he intended it to be a date. He thought it over, he went with friends. He wasn’t prepared for it to be a date.  

He picked you up from your house that Saturday and you saw that god awful movie. Jared was freaking out the entire time, but not because he was watching this ridiculous movie. No, because him one of the biggest losers who usually spent his Saturdays playing D&D was sitting next to the most gorgeous girl in school. No biggie. After the movie, he dropped off at your house and he got your number. He was probably the happiest he ever felt since he got the Nintendo Switch.

“Dude, Jared! Someone said you were at Y/N’s house this weekend,” Tom said with a teasing smile.

Jared brushed it off like it was nothing, but it was everything to him, “Yeah, I was just dropping her off.”

Tom lowered his voice, “So, did you like, do it?”

Jared looked at him confused, “Do what?”

“You know? Did you screw her?”, Tom asked with a roll of his eyes.  

Jared looked at him like he was crazy, “What? No, you fucktard. We’re just friends, plain and simple.”

“There’s no need to be modest. If you had sex with her, you can tell me.”

“Well, I didn’t! So just shut up about it okay? ” he harshly said. He left Tom at the doorway to his class that he had with you.

You noticed the anger written all over his face immediately, “Jared, you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. My friend is just being a dipshit,” he said, instantly feeling better from being around you.

You smiled, “Well, I hope they stop.”

He smiled back, “Thanks.”

The rest of the day went by as normal, and it seemed like Tom kept his mouth shut. Well, it did until Jared was getting an unusual amount of attention from the surrounding people in the halls. He had really hoped what he thought happened, didn’t. His assumptions were proven true when a basketball player high fived him and asked if it was hard to get you in bed. Jared’s face turned the color of Mario’s hat, in anger and embarrassment. He ran to class to try and see if this had come to your attention yet. You saw him enter the room and didn’t look pissed, so either you hadn’t been told or you were very good at hiding your anger.

He walked up to you and could feel people’s eyes following him. He nervously smiled, “Hey Y/N.”

“Hey Jar,” you said with a bright smile. Dammit, this was going to make telling you this harder than it already was.

He coughed awkwardly, “I have something to tell you.”

You eyed him curiously, “Yeah?”

He looked around the room and saw that almost the entire class was watching you two. He couldn’t say that right now, not with everyone looking at him like that. “Um, I uh, I had a great time this weekend,” he said nervously.

You smiled in relief, thinking it was going to be something serious, “Me too! We should definitely do it again!” He cringed at the snickers from around the room. He then sat down and tried to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach.

He thought he was in the clear until lunchtime came around, and you literally dragged him into an empty hallway. He could tell that there were tears forming in your eyes and your broken voice made his heart shatter.

You looked at him with a mix of anger and sadness, “Why did you tell people we slept together?”

“I didn’t, I swear,” he tried to defend.

“Bullshit you didn’t do you know what people are saying about me?”, you said through gritted teeth.

“Well, why are you so against it being me?”, he said, ignoring your question.

You felt some of your tears start to fall and progress with every word you said, “Jared, I don’t care that it’s you. What I care about is the fact that people have been calling me a slut and saying that I’m an easy lay because I apparently had sex with you and barely know you. The thing that really pisses me off is that people are congratulating you, but harassing me! I thought you were different than all those other boys who just tried to get into my pants. I thought you actually wanted to be my friend.”

“No, Tom asked but I said no, I swear I did!”, Jared yelled, wanting to stop the tears that were falling from your eyes.  

You wiped the tears on the sleeve of your sweater, “Just, please don’t talk to me. Even if what you’re saying is the truth. I just can’t handle the teasing and if we never spoke again it would stop. If you cared, you would do that for me.” And then you left him alone in that hallway.

Jared didn’t see you anymore that day, he hadn’t expected to. But anytime he saw someone who shared even the slightest bit of resemblance to you, he felt his heart jolt. He even saw someone wearing the same mustard yellow sweater as you, and felt angry that they were. He didn’t know why he was angry at them, he just thought that it was only reserved for you.

The next day in class, you weren’t at your usual seat. You were sitting at the edge of the first row and Jared was tempted to sit next to you, but he remembered what you said. He did care about you, so he sat in his usual spot, but he wasn’t sure he liked it that much anymore.

Jared felt like this hole was ripped out of his heart and he would never be able to fix it. The attention from the lie died down until he was back to being his usual friendless self. He didn’t even have Tom, the gullible freshman, to boss around. He hadn’t talked to him since the day he fucked everything up. As the time went by, Jared started to miss just being around you more and more. So he sucked up his doubt and headed to your house. He remembered exactly where it was from that one time of dropping you off.

When he got there, you answered the door, wearing that same yellow sweater. His heart pounded loudly as he made eye contact with you. He let out a meek hello.

“What are you doing here?”, you asked him.

He flinched at the harsh tone in your voice, “I wanted to apologize.”

“You already have, please leave me alone,” you said to him.

He looked down at his feet, “I can’t”

You sighed, “Why not?”

It’s now or never, he thought to himself. “I can’t because I love you,” he said trying to look at your face for some kind of hint as to what you were feeling.

You face visibly softened, “Jared, you can’t love me. You don’t even know me.”

“Then let me,” he pleaded.

You shook your head, “But what happened I don’t know if I-”

He interrupted you, “I know I’m not the strongest guy in the world, but if anyone says anything rude or even breaths at you in the wrong way I’ll beat the shit out of them. I want to get to know you, not just sleep with you. We had a nice time at the movies, let’s try that again, please. I’m begging you.”

You sighed before thinking it over for an agonizing minute, “You have one date. Pick me up on Friday at 6 and we get to do what I want to do.”

“Yes! Yes, I’ll do that,” he said, his mood lightening up.

You smiled, “Okay, well I have to go because I was actually in the middle of cooking, but I’ll see you Friday.”

“Yeah, Friday!”, He waved you goodbye and walked to his car. When he did he pumped his fist in the air like from in the Breakfast Club and yelled out a loud hazaa! He couldn’t be happier

[dylanissicc]

Friday Night Pyro

October 4th, 2019

Greenville, South Carolina

* Bon Secours Wellness Arena

Opening Segment: World Champion Jake Awesome bursts out of the backstage curtain with lots of energy and plays up to the excitement of this extra hot crowd tonight. Jake soaks up the crowd for a moment longer than normal and eventually grabs a mic and says “Greenville South Carolina!!!!!* Crowd Pop^

“Friday Night PIE ROW!!!!!! ^Big Pop

Jake: The wrestling world has been set a blaze. Thank you AEW. Thank you FOX Network because this right here, this building, this promotion! Is the hottest thing going today and no matter how Box office it gets or how elite it can go the wrestling world still wants to know where is the PYRO and it’s right here!!!!!!!!

Jake: Last week I was challenged by the new Juniorweight Champion of the world Jordan Oliver ^Crowd Boos^

Jake: *points mic towards crowd*

Jake: Survey says....I’m about to catch a charge in Greenville for beating a minor. Jordan, get your punk ass out here

*drops mic*

Jordan Oliver music plays

^Will Ollafub enters^ Oliver lags behind with the Juniorweight Title around his neck

Ollafub: Jake, Jordan Oliver just doesn’t fall for silly gimmicks. My client needs rest. My client needs*Oliver grabs mic from Ollafub mid sentence*

Oliver: Willy. I got this. Listen close Jacob. Last week I approached you like a grown man. I walked in between those ropes and I called you a 6 foot 9 inch bum. And one week later I couldn’t agree with myself more. Jake you washed up homie. You pushin’ 30. I’m gonna be young forever. I’m gonna be the biggest star this company has ever seen and all these broke boys in Greenville South Carolina know that that’s why they can’t stannnnnd me. ^Crowd boos^

Jake: I think I agree with all the fine people of South Carolina. Matter of fact I got a gift for all the people here tonight and Jordan this gift even applies to you. How about your shut your mouth and do this. Tonight I’m going to put the XPWEW World Heavyweight Championship on the line against you! Under the condition that you put that up!

*Crowd Pops*

Oliver: Jake you pushing 30 in age. Homie you pushing 300 in weight. You have absolutely no business holding this title.

Jake: Well sane to you. I may be pushing 260 pounds nowadays but if you think you can ever win this title, you ain’t even pushing 180 pounds. Jordan I doubt you could even lift this title with both hands. So are you gonna stand there like a bitch clutching some gold like you ain’t had none yet, Or are you going to put that title on the line. I mean if it’s champion versus champion; What’s the point. Greenville if you would treat me to chanting “Asshole” at this man’s

Crowd chants ASSHOLE..ASSHOLE..ASSHOLE

(Ollafub starts shaking no to Oliver thinking)

Oliver: You got it. I’m putting my Juniorweight Title up

*Crowd Pops*

Jake: The hell with waiting half an hour. You look ready. You aren’t a bitch you said so let’s do this right now. Ring the bell.

Jordan Oliver storms down fastly to the ring and then gets on the apron..Jake is leaning forward ready to battle and Oliver jumps back down and walks up the ramp to a chorus of boos from the crowd

Jake grabs a mic

Jake: Woah Woah Woah are you serious.

Oliver: *no mic* (mouthing words) I’ma do this match on my own time pimpin’

You don’t control me

Jake: You Lucky son of a bitch, You think your slick but ima see you later tonight

*XPWEW Appalachia commercial*

Music: Man of Constant Sorrow theme

+ Regina Clausen joins commentary and talks about her new found friendship and alliance with Amy “Primetime” Lee

M1: Amy Lee & GG defeat Chrissy Rivera & Siaka Lexoni

After the match: Regina Clausen raises the hand of Amy Lee and says with the raw power of Primetime it will lead her to her first gold in XPWEW; Women’s Champ Doxy Deity enters to a nice pop and begins our next match

M2: Doxy Deity defeats Regina Clausen w/ Amy Lee (at ringside)

During the match Rosemary comes down to the ring and interferes in the match long enough to pluck a hair off the head of Doxy (probably to assist in the voodoo doll of her they revealed last week on PYRO.)

Kiera Hogan watches from the ramp However does not interfere

Backstage: All Man putting ice on his still injured left leg from falling off that ladder two weeks ago at Anarchy Rules

All Woman looks at him and says “So when do you plan on using this briefcase, exactly”

All Man: “Why? I have like 9 months left”

All Woman: “I don’t think you’ve been aggressive as you were when you first won. Like when you stood up to The Rock that was really admiring and now your nursing 2 week old wounds that you suffered from no offense Ms. Ryu who couldn’t wrestle her way out of a paper bag”

All Man: What is that suppose to mean? I’m hurt! My leg hurts every time I move it. This briefcase guarantees. Guarantees that I will be the World Heavyweight Champion. It guarantees it, Trust me All Woman I wont “Brodie Croyle” this situation.

Brodie Croyle turns around and heard that

Croyle: You won’t what?

All Man: I said I won’t ....Soak...these Boils. I gotta soak the boils. I got boils. On my leg. Underneath this cast. Bad rash. Big red bulbous....boils. I know it sounded like I said Brodie Croyle but I said “Soak these Boils.

Croyle: I’ll see ya out there *slaps All Man’s legs*

All Man: Owwwww!

All Woman: Your gonna have to man up and if you don’t cash that briefcase in soon then consider this partnership....Over.

M3: Brodie Croyle defeats All Man

After the match: All Woman looks visibly disappointed in the All Man’s losing effort tonight, All Woman says “I want that world title All Man, Win it for me...*All Man nods affectionately* As in do it right now

*Jake Awesome enters*

{All Man looks baffled that All Woman is kind of forcing him to cash in on a fresh Jake Awesome}

Awesome storms down the ramp and is hype and All Man looks at All Woman and acts like he’s about to do it

All Man starts amping himself up, stomping the ring, slapping his briefcase

_All Man sucks out of the ring

*Golden Bryce / Dr. Disrespect Twitch Ad

Interview with Nick Simmonds: Referee Danny Coleman announces “I know Troy Clausen might wanna hear this, I still plan on getting MY revenge at the pay-per-view coming up on the 20th of the month. I have official word that Romey Zelli gave *points at self* Me! Champagne Clausen will get a world title match. However I will be the special guests referee.

Troy Clausen enters

What’s up homie. I’ve been doing time in the state penn, I’ve been swimming with sharks while you collect a check at home away from doing what you love Daniel. What you love is refereeing for this promotion

-Jacques Dudley enters

Troy why don’t you...........

Jacques is awestruck by the grill in Troy’s mouth

........

Champagne Clausen enters

- What?

- It’s called a grill and Jacques you keep finding your way into my business I’ll rearrange yours.

- Jacques Dudley attacks Champagne Clausen and they get into a complete brawl until Freight Train grabs Jacques and drags him to the ring for our next I guess impromptu matchup

Freight Traun “Jack Dudley you think you real smart being mean to my friend Champagne Clausen, need to get ya French behind in the rang fore I thump ya”

- Jacques counters into a unique walking on the guardrail move then jumping onto the apron into a moonsault

M4: Jacques Dudley defeats Freight Train

After the match Troy Clausen nails Jacques with a champagne bottle

Troy Clausen grabs a mic “is this what you wanna do Jacques. You wanna make me go back to the man I am. The man I scared the entire Harrison County Prison with my rage........I’ve had it with youuuuu

7 years you’ve been a constant thorn in my side and now my family’s side

Jacques try’s to get up and attack Troy

Amy Lee, Freight Train and Regina Clausen hold him down

Now what I’m about to say has been a LOOOOOONG time coming

It’s gonna be Appalachia. Welch, West By God Damn Virginia

Troy Clausen

Versus

Jacques Dudley

No! Holds! Barred!

I’m gonna embarrass you but just Incase you wanna try to embarrass me I’m going to embarrass you first

Troy: Son, Get the tables

*Pop from crowd*

Champagne Clausen gets the table

Amy Lee acts as Buh Buh and Champagne acts as D-Von and they hit the 3D on Jacques through the table

Commercial: Lockdown 7 countdown

Backstage: Masato Tanaka tells Golden Bryce that maybe his world title aspirations are a little too soon but good luck in tournament match tonight against Joe Gacy

M5: Leonard McGraw & Dragon Kid w/ Ms. Ryu at ringside Defeat Alveno LaFlare & 3M Ultra

{Alveno ofcourse substituting in for M3 Quintillo Who was injured at the hands of Joe Gacy at Anarchy Rules}

Skype Interview Audrey Carbine says she’s still hurt from going thru the Clausen-Mobile at Anarchy Rules from the hands of Amy Lee but she will return October 20th at Appalachia and seek revenge against Lee & Regina Clausen. Beware.

M6: Priscilla Kelly defeats Lola Starr

Slayer joins commentary

M7: International Title Tournament

Golden Bryce defeats Joe Gacy

{Gacy goes for the yellow mist, Bryce ducks in the nick of time, scoops Gacy up for a supreme-plex and then hits the Kamakamahe spear for the 1-2-3

*Slayer stands on the commentary booth and grabs the mic and cuts a damn good scathing promo calling Golden Bryce a man in limbo; A man who’s lost. A man without a country. Golden Bryce, you have a child on the way entering this world and I’m going to leave you malignant after I advance in this tournament cause I think Jacques is going to be easy pickings.

*Bryce responds quick*

Hold up what you say to me

Because it sounded like you said you was gonna Whoop my ass

Slayer I know we ain’t been formerly greeted but I am not a pushover and I ain’t for a damn second gonna let you get the best of me. I hope. You advance. I hope I get a chance. Get it. Got it. Good........

MAIN EVENT TIME

Champion vs Champion

Both titles are on the line !

XPWEW World Title & Juniorweight Title

M8: Jake Awesome vs Jordan Oliver

*Insanf Fuckin’ Classic of a match*

{During the match All Woman comes down running with the CYL briefcase pushing All Man in a wheelchair down the ramp and amps him up to cash in on an ^at the moment this happened^ A prone Jake Awesome.

All Man gets in the ring and stomachs up the courage to hand the new head referee

Kevin Madrox. **Out of nowhere** Leonard McGraw hits a devastating clothesline from hell on All Man and the match gets called a Disqualification by Referee Kevin Madrox and the crowd boos the outcome. Ollafub gathers the Juniorweight Title to a near KO’d Jordan Oliver and then in the crowd Eddie Edwards disguised as a fan snatches Ollafub and yanks him over the guardrail and locks him in the crossface. Oliver scampers with his belt like a coward while Awesome comes to the aid of Ollafub in a way not to help Ollafub but to get more shots in on Edwards who assaulted his little brother Casey Alfonso some weeks back. Jake Awesome starts punching Edwards until he scampers away on his own avoiding Awesome’s ambush.

{Dust settles}

Crowd pauses only to cheer a still standing and still world champion Jake Awesome

{Awesome grabs his title and jumps the rail}

Awesome slowly looks back and sees a destroyed Ollafub

Awesome motions to the crowd and says audibly “Should I get him Greenville?”

**Crowd Pop**

Awesome pulls Ollafub over the guardrail and hits the awesome bomb on him through the announcers table but it does. not. break.

Awesome then does it again which it doesn’t break again.

Awesome then carries a near KO’d Will Ollafub up to the top rope and hits an amazing super awesome bomb thru the table *it finally breaks* and still lands on his feet and the crowd goes absolutely berserk

{Show Ends}

[paperscraps-and-inkstains-blog]

Broken Home

CONTENT WARNING: VERBAL ABUSE, SHITTY PARENTING

“You’re mother never wanted ya, y’know?” His father slurs. He’s in his recliner, the only piece of furniture in the living room of their shithole apartment, a beer in one hand, TV remote in the other. Freddie doesn’t respond. He’s found its easier if he doesn’t.

Staring at the dust coated fan as it makes its lazy, nearly dead circles, Freddie does his best to do what he’s always done when his father got like this. Zone out and wait for it to be over.

“She mustn’t have. Why else would she have left practically the day you were born, huh? Left me to quit my job and waste all my time at your aunt’s making sure you didn’t end up dying. Pathetic little sack of shit you were.”

Closing his eyes, the male lets his mind wander, latching onto any other sensation that isn’t his father’s voice. The sound the fan makes when it spins, the feel of their worn, patchy carpet under his back, the odor of the house in general- some infernal mix of cigarette smoke and spoiled milk- anything that isn’t the same shit speech he’s sat through time and time before.

“Shoulda given you up when she did. Shoulda just left you at the hospital, let you become someone else’s problem. If I’d had all those eighteen years to myself, I coulda really made something of myself. I could have owned that fucking office by now. But no, of course not.”

Opening his eyes once more, Freddie glances to his father. Its funny to him, how much the old man talks about wishing he’d gotten rid of him way back when. Freddie used to, when he was younger, imagine that he was adopted. That someday, his real parents, the ones who looked like him- black hair, blue eyes, maybe freckles- and who cared about him the way parents were supposed to, would come back for him.

Childish hope, but hope all the same.

“You gonna say something or you just gonna keep laying there like you’re waitin’ fer death to come retrieve your scrawny ass?”

Freddie closes his blue eyes once more. “What do you want me to say, Pops?”

“Well fuck if I know, Alfred. Ya gotta have somethin’ goin’ through that thick skull of yours. So come on, out with it.”

Sitting up, Freddie stares at his father. For a moment, he debates just saying he’s got nothing and leaving it at that. Same as he has every other night. But somewhere in his subconscious, every night like this has been pulling a rope tighter and tighter. Last time, the rope was taught.

Today, it snaps.

“Y’know what, Pops,” Freddie’s tone is ice. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you should have abandoned me or let me die or whatever. God forbid that for once you have to take responsibility for thinkin’ with what’s in your pants. Its not like you really put that much work into conceiving me anyway.”

He’d seen how pregnancy worked in health class. He was traumatized at the time. Now, remembering it only made him angrier.

“And yeah, maybe you would have been better off. But owning your own company? I really fucking doubt it. I haven’t seen you get off your ass longer than to grab another beer or leave a shit in the past week. A CEO would have way too many responsibilities. You wouldn’t want that. You’d still be at a fuckin’ nine-to-five desk job, eating TV dinners and drinking beer like the fucking sad sack piece of shit that you are.”

He doesn’t remember standing up, but a six-feet, he towers over his father. And, being the one who brings in most of the income doing odd stock jobs, Freddie’s a lot more muscular than his old man. He could take him in a fight. And that knowledge gives him the confidence to finally say everything he’s kept inside. The anger spurred by every insult and every lecture, the frustration at every paycheck that was meant to pay bills getting dumped into more booze, all spills out of the eighteen-year-old like a tidal wave.

“You really want me to say I’m sorry. To apologize for existing. But I’m not going to. If you hadn’t wanted me, you could have used a condom, or kept it in your pants. Its really not that hard to put together,” He’s shouting- to the point it hurts his throat- and shaking like a leaf. And he’s never felt better than he has in this moment. “Yes, it sucks mom left you and dumped all the responsibility of raising me on you, but, you know what? I do not blame her. Not even slightly. Y’know why? She would have hated being married to you. After eighteen years with you, I know I’m pretty fuckin sick of you as a whole. She would have been too. You’re a miserable prick, and a bully, and you blame everyone but yourself for the problems you’ve created. I wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up with fuckin’ cirrhosis of the liver or some shit and tried to blame me rather than your constant drinking.”

There’s tears in his eyes, his throat is raw, his heart feels like its about to beat a hole through his chest and he’s lightheaded. His father stares at him, a rage in those stony gray eyes that Freddie’s never seen before.

For a minute, they sit in silence. A father and son at odds with one another. Freddie’s chest heaves as he finally can breathe past the rage that lit a fire inside of him. His father picks up the remote, slowly turning the TV up, looking away from him.

“So ya got balls after all. Huh,” The old man says. “You’ve got until midnight. Get your shit and get the fuck out of my house. I don’t care where you go, whether its your aunt’s or some hobo camp under some bridge. Just get out.”

Freddie stares for a moment. When he speaks, his tone is calm, and nearly numb. “Gladly.”

With that, he turns and walks out the front door, yanking his backpack off the hook on the way out.