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[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

North To The Future [Chapter 15: Drive] [Series Finale]

The year is now 2000. You are just beginning your veterinary practice in Juneau, Alaska. Aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. You kind of hate him. You are also kind of obsessed with him. Falling for him might legitimately ruin your life…but can you help it? Oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the Ice Fisher.

Chapter warnings: Language, alcoholism, addiction, murder, violence, character deaths.

Word count: 7.3k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @elsolario​ @ladylannisterxo​ @doingfondue​ @tclegane​ @quartzs-posts​ @liathelioness​ @aemcndtargaryen​ @thelittleswanao3​ @burningcoffeetimetravel​ @poohxlove​ @borikenlove​ @myspotofcraziness​ @travelingmypassion​ @graykageyama​ @skythighs​ @lauraneedstochill​ @darlingimafangirl​ @charenlie​ @thewew​ @eddies-bat-tattoos​ @minttea07​ @joliettes​ @trifoliumviridi​ @bornbetter​ @flowerpotmage​ @thewitch-lives​ @tempt-ress​ @padfooteyes​ @teenagecriminalmastermind​ @chelsey01​ @anditsmywholeheart​ @heliosscribbles​ @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen​ @narwhal-swimmingintheocean​ @tillyt04​ @cicaspair418​ @fan-goddess​ 

A/N: This is the fic I almost never wrote because I didn’t think anyone would be interested in some random, angsty, 1990s, Alaskan, crime-thriller AU. Thank you for proving me wrong. I hope you enjoy the ending. 💜

Almost everything about your existence is pure chance; it’s the most freeing and horrifying truth imaginable. There’s the genetic lottery and corporate downsizing, revolutions and hurricanes, plagues, asteroids, famines, faulty airplanes and malignant blooms of cells and drunk drivers. There are 100 billion planets in this galaxy and your atoms ended up on the one called Earth. After all that, do you really think what you want matters? So make all the choices you like, all the nail-biting deliberations and promises and vows, weigh costs and benefits, do research, roll dice, ask astrologers and palm readers, start over every New Year because that’s something we tell ourselves is possible. The fact that you exist at all is one big cosmic coin flip. If you think you’re the one driving, you’re dead fucking wrong. You’re the speck of dust on a windshield, the spin of a roulette wheel. You’re a flash of silver in the universe’s pinball machine.

I spend a lot of my time thinking about chance, okay? My family is one of the wealthiest in the Western Hemisphere, and I didn’t do anything to earn that. I was born first, and I definitely didn’t do anything to earn that, Jesus Christ, what a chromosomal fuckup. I inherited an affliction that others get to live without. I can’t imagine what it feels like to wake up and not be horrified by myself, my shortcomings, my failures: too small, too stupid, too wild, too weak. And the first time someone says something like that to you, you want to apologize, you want to drop to your knees and cling to them and beg for absolution, maybe even the first hundred times, the first thousand. And then it just starts to piss you off. Yeah, I know, I’ve heard it all before, why would you expect anything different? Isn’t this getting old, Mom? Maybe you’re the stupid one, Dad, if you think you could cut me and anything but disappointments would fall out. I’m not horrified by the fact that I’m an addict. The horror came first. The horror is what led to all the rest of it.

One day when I was in 10th Grade—I was slumped way down in my chair and drinking vodka out of an Evian water bottle—my American History teacher, purely by chance, assigned me to make a poster about Juneau, Alaska. Some other kid got Los Angeles (Hollywood! The Whisky a Go Go!) and another got Chicago (the Mob!) and another got Nashville (Johnny Cash!) and some jock moron I hated got Baltimore (um, crabs? the War of 1812…?), but I got fucking Juneau, Alaska. I thought this was so unjust that I never forgot it, the fact that I had to get up in front of the class with my pathetic Crayolas-and-magazine-cutouts poster and pretend that Juneau was a place that mattered, that microscopic cloud-covered relic of a late-1800s gold mining settlement on the shores of the Gastineau Channel. Juneau was never on my list of cities to run to. It just wasn’t. It didn’t have anything I wanted. But when I started thinking about places where I could really disappear, where no one would ever bother looking, where days are short and dark and incurious and irrelevant…well, that sounds like Juneau, right?

Let me tell you something about the night I left. I’ve been more messed up, yeah, and I’ve hurt people worse, and I’ve been closer to death, I’ve been one more powder-white gram on the scale away from oblivion; but I’ve never felt that fucking low. I can’t decide if I wish I’d never gone to Juneau at all. I can’t decide if it was a blessing or a curse.

My flight is a red-eye with a layover in Ketchikan, American Airlines, bound for Seattle. Sunfyre has the window seat. He’s wearing the bright red Service Dog vest that I once stole for him specifically for such occasions. My dog fly with the cargo? My dog?! Bill Clinton will be elected pope first. Sunfyre is chewing contently on Milk-Bones and watching the sun rise over the Pacific Ocean. He knows the drill. We’ll touchdown and deplane, and then…and then…

And then we’ll start over again somewhere new. I’ll find a flight board and pick a destination; Seattle is a hub, with spokes leading everywhere. I could go south, to Galveston, Lafayette, Biloxi, someplace where it gets hot, someplace where I can sweat her out of me, purge every cell that still remembers what she felt like. I could go west, fading into mountains or cornfields, vapid infinitesimal towns in Montana, Iowa, Idaho, Nebraska. I could go to New England or the Great Lakes or freaking Hawaii, sleep in hammocks, swim with sea turtles, drink my rum and Cokes out of coconut shells. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that nowhere really sounds good to me. My legs are suddenly tired of running. There’s an ache that rattles down to the bone.

I don’t have to tell you that I love her, right? It’s not so easy for me to say. But it’s true, and it’s beautiful, and it’s torture, and it’s a dream. It’s pain that flays you alive and then builds you back again, layers of fresh muscle and tendons and veins growing over ribs and vertebrae like a trellis thick with ivy. It’s not a high. It’s just the best life can get down here on earth. It’s the ocean, it’s the Northern Lights.

I’m swimming in a black hoodie that is three sizes too big; I haven’t slept and I’m pale and raccoon-eyed, looking like death, feeling worse. When the stewardess rolls by with her clattering cart just slim enough to fit through the aisle, I order a cup of water for Sunfyre and a double rum and Coke for myself. It arrives with two blood-red cherries bobbing in a caramel-dark carbonated sea. The guy in the next seat over gives me a judgmental little eyebrow raise.

“That doesn’t look like breakfast,” he says.

I bite off both cherries—juice dribbling down my chin, wiped away with a sleeve—and throw the stems over my shoulder. The lady sitting behind me yelps in disgust. “Because it’s dessert.”

The man smiles and shakes his head, one of those I shouldn’t find it funny but I do sort of looks. I inspire a lot of those. He’s maybe mid-thirties, long hair and ripped jeans, very punk rock, cool as hell. There is a constellation of pins on his denim jacket. One of them has a roman numeral 10 on it, a stark X nestled inside a triangle. Unity, Service, Recovery, the gold letters say. To Thine Own Self Be True. It’s an Alcoholics Anonymous pin. What are the chances?

He catches me staring, and I ask: “Does it really make you a better man?”

“It doesn’t make you better. It just makes you real.” He smiles again, patient and kind. “It makes your emotions and experiences real, your relationships real. And so you become whatever version of yourself you were always supposed to be. But you have to want it. Not your wife, not your parents or your kids, not your pastor, not your friends, not your parole officer. You.”

I speak without knowing what I’m going to say. “I want it.”

“Yes, I think you do.”

He sees a lot, I think, as the plane descends into the grey fogbank of Seattle. 20/20.

When we land, the man squeezes into a cab with me and Sunfyre—he sniffles into a Kleenex for a while before reluctantly admitting that he’s allergic to dogs—and pays the fare. The cab’s worn brakes squeal to a stop outside a residential treatment center on the banks of the Puget Sound. When we step out onto the sidewalk, I ask the man if he’s going to take me to get one last drink first. He laughs in my face. Fucking jerk.

He pulls out a black Sharpie and rummages through his pockets, his wallet. He can’t find a scrap of paper. He writes his phone number on the underside of my arm instead. “You call me, okay?” he says. “Call me when you get out. Call me before you get out, if you need to. I don’t care if it’s in five minutes, I don’t care if it’s at 2 a.m. You just make sure you call.”

“Why would you do this? I mean, you don’t even know me. You have no idea who I am.”

“Because once, years ago, someone did the same thing for me, and someone did it for her too. Maybe one day you’ll be able to pay it forward. I don’t care who you are or where you’ve been. It doesn’t matter to me. I’d like to think that we’re all more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.”

And then he waits for me to go inside. He doesn’t leave until he watches me check in at reception on the other side of the rain-flecked glass. Outside, a brand new day is beginning. A misty sun rises as pieces of the sky fall.

Sunfyre trots into the lobby alongside me, panting cheerfully, shaking the perpetual Seattle drizzle from his fur. There’s a girl at the front desk, just a girl, and that’s the other thing that’s different now. She’s not a maybe-future-one-of-my-girls. She’s just like anyone else. I already have a girl. I mean, I don’t anymore, not really. But I still do.

I throw my things onto the counter: my single suitcase, my tattered wallet, my bundle of cash held together with rubber bands, my scraped-up electric guitar.

“Checking in?” the girl asks.

“Yeah.”

“For how long?”

“As long as it takes, I guess.”

She opens my wallet, reads my license, blinks in bewilderment. “Aegon…?”

I sigh dramatically. “It’s Greek.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You dream of him; and when you do, he’s always smiling. He’s reading your palm in an empty Taco Bell, he’s kissing you under the Northern Lights, he’s regaling your parents with stories—of lobster fishing in Portland, of cattle ranching in Denver—all through Thanksgiving dinner, he’s undressing you in his moonlit apartment, he’s climbing into your bed. He’s not angry, he’s not ruined, he’s not running away. He’s exactly as you remember him in his best moments. He’s all chaotic white-blond hair and weightless light, sharp laughter and bright eyes. And each morning there’s a splinter-thin moment before you remember that he’s gone. That’s the worst part, really. You always knew it would be. You can’t even begin to forget him.

Your friends want to help you, but they don’t know how. Neither do your parents. Your dad gets an atlas from the study, throws it down on the dining room table, and opens it to a map of the world. “Pick anyplace and we’ll go there,” he says. “We’ll close the vet clinic for two weeks and we’ll all go.” But you can’t give him a single name: not Athens, or Paris, or Buenos Ares, or Cairo, or New York City, or Rome, or Tokyo, or anywhere else for that matter. It’s the strangest thing. All your life you’ve been waiting to get out of Juneau, but now nowhere sounds good to you. And maybe that’s a lesson you wish you’d never learned: sometimes freedom is less about places than it is about people.

The blood on the equipment recovered from Trent’s apartment matches DNA from the first three victims. He is charged with eight counts of first-degree murder and held awaiting trial in the Lemon Creek Correctional Center. His family visits him faithfully each week. His lawyer is exasperated that he won’t plead guilty and spare his parents the humiliation and expense of a protracted court battle. But Trent’s story never changes: he’s innocent, he’s never killed anybody, he doesn’t understand how the blood could have been found on his belongings. He wants to know exactly what items the police tested; he and his lawyer are still waiting for the prosecutor to turn over all the details during discovery. In the midst of the scandal, the upheaval, you fade into the backdrop like the stars behind fog. People talk around you and through you. They offer gaps that you don’t care enough to fill in. Drinks clink, whispers fly, conspiracies are exchanged between pool shots. You watch the days grow longer and wait for the future to arrive. You don’t know what it will look like, you can’t even begin to fathom it. But surely there must be a future. Life goes on. It did for your mom after Jesse. It will for you too.

A week after Aegon leaves, there is a knock at your parents’ front door. You open it to find Aemond standing there in the muted amber-pink afternoon light. His hair is long and loose, his Armani suit immaculately tailored, his BlackBerry nestled in his right hand. He glances up from it at you and his jaw falls open. And only then do you realize how awful you must look.

You tell Aemond, your voice hushed and heavy, ankles in quick-drying cement: “I don’t know where he is.”

“No, I can see that,” Aemond replies, dull horror in his blue eye. Then he turns around and strides halfway down the driveway towards the street, where a cab idles as it waits for him, engine exhaust pouring into the air like smoke from a firepit.

“How’s your dad?” you call after him when you get your bearings.

He pauses under the dwindling light. “Alive. For now.” And then Aemond considers you for a while. “I suppose if I ever want to find you again, I know where to look.”

You nod. “I’ll be here.”

I’ll always be here.

A month crawls by like a wounded animal, dead leaves snared in the fur of its belly. The flesh on your thigh knits back together. The things that Aegon ordered show up in Juneau, packages left on the front porch and stuffed into the moose-shaped mailbox like Christmas gifts in a stocking. You pack these remnants of him—Zoobooks and cooking accessories, knives and Chia Pets—into a cardboard box and tuck it away in a dusty, cobwebbed corner of the attic, and you’re aware the entire time that this has happened before, almost exactly twenty years ago. When your dad puts a Third Eye Blind or Red Hot Chili Peppers or Oasis album on his record player, you find some excuse to leave the room. When you tack magazine cutouts of beaches and cityscapes to your bedroom walls, all you can think about is where Aegon might be now. You wonder where he works during the day, a surf shop or a construction site or a farm or a fishing boat; you wonder who he spends his nights with.

I’ll always be here. Even if I leave, I’ll always be here.

~~~~~~~~~~

Twenty years ago to the day, almost to the hour, a man fell into the Gastineau Channel and drowned. They found water in his lungs, though the autopsy was only a formality, an afterthought; Jesse had a reputation in Juneau, and no one was particularly surprised to see how his story ended. There were abrasions on his back and shoulders, contusions on his wrists, but so what? He probably tripped half a dozen times before he tumbled over some guardrail and into the frigid black water. There was a bloody mess of an impact wound on the side of his face, but who cares? The blood alcohol concentration doesn’t lie. The man was wasted, and more than that he was a waste. If his premature demise hadn’t been then, it would have been later, in a week or a month or a year. And when someone like that goes, there’s a sigh of relief that accompanies the misery, isn’t there? There’s the sense of a weight being lifted from a scale.

You’re sitting in Ursa Minor at the usual booth, but the bar is practically empty. It’s Valentine’s Day. Joyce is with Rob, Kimmie is with Brad; Heather’s parents have spirited her away on a short vacation to Sitka to try to take their minds off Trent’s imminent lifelong incarceration. Your mom and dad’s February 14th tradition is cooking a homemade Italian dinner together—pasta, bread with herbs and olive oil, caprese salad, tiramisu—and then settling in for a romantic Blockbuster rental. This year, it’s Runaway Bride. Your mom loves Julia Roberts. They didn’t ask for privacy, but you gave it to them anyway. Kimmie offered to drop you off at Ursa Minor and then drive you home after her date with Brad so you could drink away your sorrows without having to worry about calling a ride. So now Kimmie is getting wined, dined, and plied with boxed chocolates at the Red Dog Saloon while you drain appletinis and flip through one of Jesse’s journals, not knowing what you’re looking for.

Dale is washing pint glasses in the sink behind the bar and humming cheerfully along to a Cake CD. It’s just you and him tonight; evidently, Dale doesn’t have a hot date either. It was nice of him to eschew the usual Shania Twain or Sheryl Crow soundtrack. He’s trying to spare you from any crooning love songs. He must have forgotten that Cake has its own little slice of relevance in your memories of Aegon, those memories that refuse to fade, ink in your skin as dark as night.

Your fingerprints trace Jesse’s scrawling, handwritten letters. It’s his very last journal, the last words he ever wrote. His final entry is unremarkable, a lucid recollection of his latest woodcarving project: it’s a family of tiny bears, three of them. He says he wants the cub to have the same slope of your cheeks, the shape of your eyes. And it’s just like your mom said. It really did seem like he was getting better.

You flip to the next page, blank. The heading reads: Thursday, February 14th, 1980.

You go back a few days. And your gaze catches on words that you’ve read before, months ago, back when the journals were a new discovery like striking oil. The entry is from Saturday the 9th. It ends with an unceremonious bullet point of a reminder: dinner w/ Dale on Thursday.

You leaf forward to Thursday, to the blank page that tells you nothing. Back to the 9th, forward to the 14th, again, again. Valentine’s Day 1980, before Dale had married his wife, after your mom had stopped trying to make plans with Jesse, maybe even rebelled against them; just two unromantic, discarded men with a vacant slot in their calendars and troubles to drink into submission. Except that Jesse never came home.

Dinner with Dale, you think dizzily. Dinner with Dale on the night he died.

The opening notes of The Distance shout from the stereo. Everything suddenly feels very loud.

Reluctantly crouched at the starting line,

Engines pumping and thumping in time…

What had Aegon said about that song before you sang it together, stomping and staggering across the hardwood floor? It’s not about NASCAR, it’s about a journey!

Outside, it’s a rare clear night in Juneau. The Northern Lights are a kaleidoscopic ribbon against indigo night, the sky a mausoleum of stars. And you remember when Aegon sang Everlong, when he grabbed your hand, led you upstairs to the roof, kissed you for the first time under the ethereal, shimmering curtain of green and purple and blue…before Heather had interrupted to tell you that Dale was closing the bar. He was irritable, he was tired; he wanted to go home.

The arena is empty except for one man,

Still driving and striving as fast as he can…

And then they found a body, didn’t they? Yes, you can remember being in Aegon’s apartment and hearing the police cars zoom by. You remember the red-and-blue flashes on his face. You remember thinking they looked like sapphires and rubies, the ocean and blood.

The sun has gone down and the moon has come up

And long ago somebody left with the cup,

But he’s driving and striving and hugging the turns

And thinking of someone for whom he still burns…

Icy claws glide down the length of your spine. Memories play back with a focused clarity that you didn’t have before: Dale groggy and yawning just before they found the fifth victim at Christmas, and again before they found the eighth the same night Trent dragged you—shrieking, bleeding, virtually naked—out of your Jeep. You remember Dale at your parents’ New Year’s Eve party talking about how maybe the killer was an athlete with brain damage from CTE. You remember him offering to give Trent a box of his old equipment from when he was a park ranger. You remember him watching as Trent towered over you here in Ursa Minor with a cue stick clenched in his fist, demanding to know where you had been the night before, Dale’s eyes gleaming with disapproval and fascination and…and…oh god, opportunity.

He’s going the distance,

He’s going for speed,

She’s all alone (all alone)

All alone in her time of need…

And now Aegon’s long gone, but you’re still here. And so is the Ice Fisher.

You’re staring at Dale, eyes huge and glossy with terror. He glances up, gives you a brief casual smile, looks down at the pint glasses again. And then his eyes come back to you. He sees you and you see him, really see him, and it’s the first time in your life that you can recall him being a centerpiece instead of an ornament for gazes to skate over like ice, wallpaper or taxidermy deer heads or a mirror. And you watch as the thing that lives inside Dale stirs awake. It is a shadow with fangs, talons, barbs down its spine, a weblike scribble of a brain loud with the echoes of screams; and it unfurls and fills him completely, all the way to his fingerprints. It possesses him, it eclipses him.

It’s Dale, you realize like a bullet slicing through an aorta, spilling an ocean of hot blood. It was him twenty years ago and it’s him now.

You gasp and fumble for the cannister of bear mace still clipped to your purse. Dale crosses the room with staggering swiftness, like a wolf, like a storm, one pint glass still gripped in his hand. He reaches you just as your thumb presses down on the cannister’s release tab. The rust-colored mist spews not directly into his face but into the room; Dale is hacking and rasping, you both are, but he isn’t in too much pain to haul you out of the booth and onto the floor. You’re screaming, you’re clawing at him, your eyes feel like they’re on fire, tiny pinpoint infernos that drill down to the bone. You can feel the ice-cold juice and schnapps and vodka of your appletini, knocked off the table when you fell, soaking through the back of your sweater. You can feel pebbles of glass as they burrow into your flesh. You are dimly aware of a barstool tumbling over as you struggle with Dale.

“No!” you cry into the monstrous hand that he clamps over your mouth. “No—!”

Dale brings the bottom of the pint glass down on your head. The Distance lyrics—she’s hoping in time that her memories will fade—swirl around inside your fractured skull.

Silence descends like a curtain, shadows in, lights out.

~~~~~~~~~~

I knock, and he opens the door. The house smells like fresh bread and alfredo sauce, rosemary and crushed garlic. My rental—a Toyota 4Runner, I remember what she said about the Nova being a bad idea in Alaska—is parked in the driveway behind her Jeep. Sunfyre is standing beside me, eyes sparkling, smiling with that unburdened-by-intellect innocence that dogs have. There’s a bouquet of blue-dyed roses in my left hand, cool melancholy blooms of life like seawater, like bruises.

“Hi,” I say to her dad as he stands in the doorway. “It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you too, Aegon.” He’s not just staring at me in the artificial front porch light; he’s gawking, he’s damn near speechless. “Wow. Wow. It’s really good to see you.”

Yeah, I know I look different. The dark rings around my eyes have vanished, my face is less puffy, my hair is trimmed and healthy and mostly out of my face, I stand taller. I’m wearing a white turtleneck sweater and a leather jacket, black skinny jeans, my combat boots. I have a red chip in my pocket that I can’t fucking wait to show her: 1 month sober. On the first day, you think you’re going to die, and on the second day you wish you would. But you don’t. You live, and that starts out as a grisly inconvenience, and then you get a taste for it. “You can probably guess who I’m looking for.”

“Yeah, I reckon I can,” her dad says. “But she’s not here right now. She went to Ursa Minor.”

I grin, a crooked little curl of the lips. “I think I remember how to get there.”

I hop back into the 4Runner with Sunfyre and pull out into the street, snow and ice chomping under the tires. I had missed driving, I realize now. I got so used to almost never being able to do it that I forgot how good it feels to turn the wheel yourself, to watch the speedometer ramp up when you decide you want to fly. Ten minutes later, I swerve into Ursa Minor’s deserted parking lot and screech to a stop across three separate spaces.

“Oh, what the fuck!” I choke out as I step into the bar, coughing into my sleeve. The blue roses tumble out of my hand. Ursa Minor is empty, but there’s something in the air, something invisible that drives scorching, stinging needles into my eyes and my sinuses. Tears stream down my face; my exposed skin prickles and burns. Sunfyre sneezes over and over again and lingers in the doorway, gulping in fresh night wind from outside. There’s shattered glass and green liquid on the hardwood floor. There’s an upturned barstool. The stereo is playing Cake’s cover of Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps.

What the hell happened here—?

And then I see it: the cannister of bear mace that had rolled under the booth, the same one she and her friends always sat in.

She used the bear mace. She finally used it. But why?

There’s blood on the floor. There’s blood on the table too. There’s a tattered, olive-green journal opened to a blank page. The pieces slide closer and closer and then link together, an explosion in my mind like fireworks.

I bolt outside and study the snow-covered parking lot. There are fresh tire tracks there under the murky luminescence of the streetlights; they lead out to the main road and then north towards the lakes.

“No,” I whisper to no one but the fierce wind, the sky threaded with the opalescent Northern Lights. “No, no, no…”

I sprint back inside Ursa Minor, get the phone Dale keeps behind the bar, and call the cops. “Stay where you are,” the 911 dispatcher instructs me sternly. “Wait for the police, do not attempt to investigate yourself, do not attempt to intervene—”

“Yeah, fuck that,” I say, and slam the receiver into the cradle. Then I swipe the black 8 ball off the pool table.

I load Sunfyre into the 4Runner and spin out of the parking lot, following the parallel lines of tire tracks like the etching of veins beneath skin.

~~~~~~~~~~

There’s a sound, rough and grating; and then you realize that it’s you being dragged across the ice. When your eyes flutter open, you see the uninterrupted sky: indigo night, distant stars, the Northern Lights. Your clothes are wet with snow; it’s so cold that the fabric is freezing, stiff and crackling when you try to move. Dale is lugging you over the frozen lake by the collar of your sweater. It’s choking you, but of course that doesn’t matter much. He’s about to kill you anyway.

“It’s not right,” Dale mutters, and you’re aware through the disorientation and the fog-like cloud of pain that he’s not really talking to you. “Your mom’s a nice lady. It’s not right that she had to lose two people this way, she doesn’t deserve that. Oh well. It can’t be helped now, can it?”

You whimper something, disjointed helpless words. Please, hurts, don’t, please.

“It’s not me,” Dale says, as if it’s perfectly logical. “I mean, not really. It’s this part of me that I can’t cut out. I can only feed it so it goes away for a while. It quiets down sometimes, it hibernates like a bear in the winter…but it always comes back. And my god, is it hungry.”

You smack clumsily, futilely at his hands as he hauls you over the ice. Dale doesn’t seem to notice.

“You have to make it look like an accident. That’s the ticket, if you don’t want anybody to know. You shove a hiker from a ledge, a drunk into the ocean. I did that for a long time, never raised suspicion. Never pinged on anyone’s radar. Jesse was the hardest, though. Good lord, did he fight. Had to pour a bottle of Everclear down his throat. Had to make it look like he was drinking that night. He wasn’t, which was unusual. Kept saying he wanted to turn things around. I think you had something to do with that. Now this? You were never supposed to be here, ladybug. What a shame. What a goddamn shame.”

Consciousness is a river that you dip in and out of; blackness crumbles around the edges of your vision, collapses in, recedes, swells again like a wave. You moan, you beg, you struggle as much as you can. It’s not much. It might as well be nothing.

“Things were easier after I got married,” Dale continues. He has a large hiking backpack slung over his broad shoulders, you see now. It jostles from side to side as he drags you. You know what’s in there: a chisel to break the ice, fishing line to strangle you. “Having someone else there all the time, it was a distraction. And it kept that thing inside me…not tame, no, I wouldn’t say that. But chained up down in the basement, maybe. Now I’m alone again. And when the chains start rattling, there’s nothing to stop me from hearing them.”

You get your feet under you, twist around, and slam your fists into Dale’s chest as hard as you can. He laughs in a baritone rumble and shoves you back down onto the ice; your head hits the ground, and you can feel yourself fading again, the last wisps of sunlight at dusk.

“Sometimes you want to hide,” Dale says. “And sometimes you don’t. I was ready to stop hiding. I can’t tell you what a high it was every time they found a body. The news, the ceaseless chattering around town, the name they gave me…incredible. Exhilarating. I couldn’t sleep for days after each kill. I’d toss and turn all night imagining what the headlines would be. Let me tell you, ladybug. I’ve never tried heroin, and I never need to. It can’t possibly be better than this.”

What will happen to my parents? you think, heartbreak gutting you, dull knifes rearranging your organs. What will happen to Heather and Kimmie and Joyce? What will happen when Aegon finds out he left too soon?

“I knew I needed someone to pin it on,” Dale informs you calmly. “Didn’t take anyone who went to the bar, didn’t take anyone who could be traced back to me. And still, I knew they’d figure it out eventually if I didn’t give them another suspect. At first, I was thinking I might use Aegon. He was a little small, sure, but he showed up around the right time and he was an outsider. Then I saw the way Trent was with you…aggressive, menacing…and I knew it had to be him. It was almost too easy. I planted the seeds, and good lord did they grow.”

“They’ll know,” you croak. “If you kill me, the police will find my body and they’ll know Trent’s not the Ice Fisher.”

Hideously, horribly, Dale smiles down at you. “Oh, ladybug, I don’t think they’ll ever find you. They found the others because I wanted them to. And no one is looking for victims anymore. Once you sink, I’ll cover up the hole with ice and snow. No blood, no signs. People will assume you’re a runaway. It was just too much, wasn’t it? Trent getting arrested, Aegon leaving town. Maybe you ran off after him. Maybe you threw yourself in the channel. Who could say? No, your bones will become silt, your name will slowly disappear from Juneau. And in ten or twenty years, your parents will have you declared dead in absentia. That’s my best guess. That’s how it will go.”

“No,” you sob, battling against the hands knotted into the collar of your sweater. “No—!”

His knuckles bash the side of your head, and a black silence rolls in like high tide, engulfs you, drowns you. When you swim back up into consciousness again, Dale is a few yards from you and drilling a hole in the ice with his chisel. You try to crawl away and promptly collapse, frail and boneless. He glances over at you, chuckles pleasantly, and then begins using a hatchet to widen the opening.

No, you think, hooking your fingers into the snow and dragging yourself towards the forest. No, no, no…

Dale’s ready for you. He walks over, grabs both of your ankles, tugs you with terrifying ease to the hole in the ice. Then he has a length of fishing line in his hands, and he’s looping it around your throat again and again, and he’s tightening it until the needle-thin nylon wire bites into your flesh, spilling tendrils of blood. You know you don’t have a chance, but you try; you owe it to your parents to try. You claw at the fishing line and you struggle and you cry out in hoarse, useless screams—

And then you hear something that doesn’t make any sense. Through the darkness, through the wind, there are the barks of a dog. Sunfyre rockets into your dimming field of vision and jumps on Dale, snarling and growling and snapping at his hands, his face. Dale flings the dog away, and as he’s distracted, Aegon arrives. He’s holding—ludicrously—a black 8 ball from a pool table, and he smashes it into Dale’s head. A sick, wet, crushing sound ricochets, cracked bone cushioned by flesh, and Dale howls as he rolls onto his side and covers his head with his hands.

He peers up at Aegon, furious and pained and stunned. “You?!”

“Me.” Aegon’s voice is dark and low like thunder, like the iron gale of storms over the ocean. “And I’m a killer.”

He lunges at Dale, still wielding the 8 ball. Dale’s massive hand juts out and closes around Aegon’s wrist, and then he yanks him to the ground. They’re grappling on the snow and ice, they’re striking out with knuckles and elbows, they’re ripping at each other with their bare hands. You’re trying to unravel the fishing line still coiled around your throat, panting in deep, frantic breaths so you can see and think clearly, so you can scramble to your feet, so you can help Aegon. And then Dale gets away from him just long enough to grab you again, to wrap the ends of the fishing line around his fingers. He delivers one last macerating blow to your skull, pulls you by your throat to the gaping hole in the ice, and shoves you through.

The water is so cold it’s paralyzing. There is a thought that seizes you—so overwhelming, so strangely rational—that says all you have to do is stay where you are, to wait a little longer, and then you’ll never hurt again, you’ll never be disappointed or caged, you’ll never be anything. And you think of all the lives you could have lived, all the places you could have gone: cities and beaches and deserts and valleys, gardens and rivers, ruins and glass. You were always so afraid of really going after them. What the hell were you so afraid of? Everything worth fearing is right here in Juneau.

I can still do those things. I can still live. And I can still help Aegon.

You jolt out of your inertia and clamber madly for the surface. But you don’t hit frigid open air; you hit ice, ice too thick to break through, ice too thick for more than a murmur of light to penetrate. Your palms press against the semitransparent wall; bubbles of carbon dioxide spurt from your nose and mouth. You feel for the opening that Dale made, but you don’t know where it is. You are lost beneath the ice, running out of air, fading rapidly. Then you hear Jesse—and you aren’t sure how you know what his voice sounds like, but you do—speaking softly and kindly to you, comforting you, telling you which way to go.

I’m sorry that no one knows the truth, you say without speaking. I’m sorry we thought you destroyed yourself. I’m sorry you never got the chance to truly live.

You were all better off without me anyway, he answers, without any bitterness at all. And that’s true, isn’t it?

There is a great disruption that rocks through the water. New currents stir into existence, fresh waves spring out of the darkness. And then someone takes your hand and draws you towards a noise, muffled through the ice and water: a dog barking, you realize. Then your palms find the opening and you inhale brutally cold air into your aching lungs, the best you’ve ever tasted. Aegon helps pull you through the hole and out of the lake, out of the jaws of oblivion.

You lie together on the ice, breathing in gasps that turn to mist in the night wind. Dale’s body is sprawled several yards away. The hatchet he’d used to break up the ice is buried in his neck, spine severed, eyes slick and vacant. You can see reflections of the Northern Lights flickering in them.

“You came back,” you whisper to Aegon as whirling police sirens approach, the lights dancing on his face: blue like the ocean, red like fire and blood.

“Of course I came back, Appletini,” he says, laughing with frenzied relief, kissing your cheeks and forehead over and over again, lake water dripping from his hair. Sunfyre jumps around you both, yapping ecstatically, his tail wagging. “I couldn’t leave without my Juneau girl.”

~~~~~~~~~~

There’s wind, but it isn’t sharp like a blade. There’s a sky, but it isn’t cloaked in cloud cover or fog. The boats that bob in the surf are sailboats and cruisers, not fishing vessels. Dolphins crest out of the sun-speckled waves like someone coming up from a dream.

It’s June 9th, and you’re soaring down the Pacific Coast Highway in the red Ford Mustang convertible you rented after the plane touched down in Seattle. Aegon is in the driver’s seat, black sunglasses and white T-shirt, his hair whipping in the breeze. He has one hand on the wheel and the other behind your headrest. Sunfyre is in the backseat, grinning like only dogs can. You turn up the song on the radio: Drive by Incubus.

You and Aegon had stayed in Juneau long enough for your skull to heal, and for your parents to find someone else to take over the vet clinic. They settled on a 32-year-old from Detroit: Justin McNair, a former Marine like your dad, and he either has no family or a bad one because he never wants to talk about them. Perhaps it doesn’t really matter which it is; perhaps sometimes they’re just about the same thing. Your parents have already basically adopted him. He eats dinner with them three times a week and calls your dad when he needs help with house maintenance or scaring a moose away from his truck. And just before you went south, Aegon showed him how to make the world’s best hot chocolate.

You send postcards back to Juneau from each town you stop in. Heather’s bon voyage gift to you had been an indecently revealing swimsuit. Joyce appeared with—what else?—a stack of books fit for leisurely beach reading. And Kimmie gave you, however bizarrely, a compass. So you don’t get lost, she had said with an innocuous little smile. You honestly couldn’t tell if she was joking.

During his one month in jail, Trent learned how to meditate and do yoga. He’s still kind of a dumbass, but he’s also a supposedly devout vegan Buddhist, and he had the decency to leave you alone aside from an apology letter that he slid into the moose-shaped mailbox: handwritten, six pages, lots of spelling and grammatical errors. Oh, and he finally got that job with the Forest Service, probably mostly due to his high-profile wrongful detainment. Now hikers get to swoon over his muscles and hair flips.

You’ll go back to Juneau, of course. Maybe just for visits, maybe for more than that someday. But it will never feel like a cage again.

Aegon calls Aemond every two or three days, a habit he started when he was in rehab. At first it was by necessity—he needed someone to pay the $30,000 bill—but now you think he secretly looks forward to it. He updates Aemond about how the road trip is going and reassures him that the plan hasn’t changed: south to San Diego, and then cutting east across the country to Miami. You don’t know what exactly life will look like there, and neither does Aegon. That’s not the important thing about going. Part of AA is making amends, and Aegon has a lot of work to do in that respect. He wants to go back to Miami, he says. He’s ready to go back.

San Diego is exactly like Aegon once told you it would be. You weave through the rust-colored peaks of the Laguna Mountains and there’s the Pacific Ocean, glittering and sapphire-blue, peppered with surfers and sea lions. It’s hot and it’s beautiful beyond words and everything grows there: ivy, cactuses, palm trees, calla lilies, roses. And for the first time that you can remember, the world feels breathtakingly, impossibly big. You get carryout from an unassuming restaurant called The Taco Stand, and then Aegon parks the convertible in La Jolla. You walk down the steps carved into the cliffside, paper bags in your hands full of tacos and churros, Aegon carrying Sunfyre so the dog won’t slip.

You sit together on the golden sand and watch the 8:00 p.m. sun sink into the waves, Aegon’s arm around your waist, your fingers tucking his lock of silvery hair behind his ear. And then he takes your hand, kneads it until it’s sinuous and relaxed, and reads the lines of your palm in the amber dusk like firelight.

“It says you’re happy,” he tells you. “And that you’re free.”

“I am,” you reply, smiling as the ocean stretches out like the arm of a galaxy: the ancient past, the infinite future.

[nerdraging4point0]

Scorpion and the Scales // Chapter Ten // PolyAU

Tropes and Tags: why choose romance, MF, MFM, MFMM, instalove, too much sex, tattooed musicians, polyverse, friends to lovers.

Content warning: 18+ only minors DNI. PinV, PinA, oral (f!recieveing, m!recieving), threesomes, light BDSM, voyeurism, exhibitionism, partner sharing, jealousy, angst.

Taglist(click to be added): @ladyveronikawrites @synthetic-wasp-570 @beaker1636 @thesazzb @itsjustemily @vinyardmauro @circle-with-me @tearfallpixie @poisongirl616 @shilohrosechicken @th0ughts-pr4yers @meliferafaerie @letmeadoreyoux @latenightmusiclover @transparentwitchnightmare @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @emofangirl02 @rumoured-whispers @somebodyels3 @jakeygvf21 @dominuslunae @sunsshinesunny @jilliemiw86 @h0rr0rqu3en @yournecessaryevil @bloody-delusion-expert @mortallyuniquepeach @missduffsblog @cncohshit

Seven AM and I feel like it's too early for this.

 My body is still buzzing from the quickie Chris and I shared just a few hours ago. He had surprised me by arriving in Denver a day early, unable to wait any longer before seeing me. We had planned to simply meet at the airport to catch our flight together to Los Angeles. I clocked out of work early, verified my vacation time and spent the night wrapped in his arms, making up for lost time. 

For the first time in ages both Noah and Chris weren’t out touring somewhere halfway across the country or world from me, and I was taking every advantage. A whole week in Los Angeles, just the three of us. 

Chris stood nervously behind me in the airport security line, fidgeting with his clothes and bouncing from foot to foot. He hated to fly and I knew his anxiety was in overdrive. I turned around and took his hand, pulling him into my arms. Even without shoes, he towered over me as I stood on my tiptoes to give him a soft, reassuring kiss. We stepped up to the security scanner and I breezed through, the green light flashing to indicate I was clear. Chris started to follow but was stopped by the attendant.

 “Sir, your hat,” she said politely, gesturing to the cap sitting atop his faded purple locks. He sighed, quickly glancing around before reluctantly removing the hat and handing it over. She rolled it between her hands, almost curiously, before returning it. Chris hunched his shoulders, trying to hide the unusual hair color that he was still keeping secret from fans. I couldn’t help but giggle as the attendants stared at his purple hair, making him even more self-conscious. “You can put it back on after you go through the scanner,” the attendant assured him, handing back the hat. 

He stepped through and the green light signaled he was free to proceed. Chris hastily jammed the cap back on his head, concealing the dull purple hair that he was clearly not yet ready to reveal publicly. 

We gathered our things from the conveyor belt and headed to the gate, settling into our seats as we waited patiently for our flight. I rested my head on Chris's shoulder, hoping to catch some extra sleep before takeoff. But my phone buzzed with a new notification and I smiled to myself, thinking it could only be one person—Noah. Opening the screen, it wasn't who I expected. Instead of Noah's name hovering over my text box, it was my boss Laura with an urgent "Call me, please." I dialed her number quickly, thinking there must be something wrong—maybe issues with lab results or a broken machine that needed replacing. I was on vacation and shouldn't be dealing with work matters, but I tried to be helpful when I could.

Laura answered after two rings with her usual professional greeting. "Hey Laura, it's Eve." I licked my dry lips, trying to prepare for what she might say.

 "I understand you're on vacation and I hate to do this now, but it's been decided unanimously by the supervisors that we are terminating your employment, effective immediately." My heart dropped and I felt the color drain from my face, my mouth hanging open in shock. My stomach knotted like I might be sick. I couldn't speak—I didn't even know what to say if I could. Laura continued, "In the last few months you've taken a lot of time off..."

I found my voice again and cut her off. "All of which was approved vacation time."

"Yes, but it's been a distraction to other employees nonetheless. I understand you'll be on vacation this next week, but when you return I'll need your keys and badge left at the front desk. Your belongings will be packed for you to pick up."

I feel utterly defeated and dejected, unable to muster a response or plea as I received the dreaded news that I had been let go from my job. The abruptness of the call left me reeling, struggling to process the sudden loss of my livelihood. As the phone slips from my limp grasp, a wave of despair washes over me. My mind races ahead to the implications - how will I pay rent that is due next week without my usual paycheck that I had been depending on? Where will I find another job quickly enough to avoid falling behind on my other financial obligations? My thoughts spiral into darkness as the full weight of my new reality sinks in. I feel rudderless, cast adrift with no clear path forward and no idea how I will keep my life afloat. I sink into the chair, the soft leather offering little comfort. I feel lost in a haze, unable to cry or speak, just staring blankly ahead as the terminal bustles around me oblivious to my suffering. Chris gently tucks my hair behind my ear, voice full of concern and care as they try to meet my vacant eyes. But I cannot respond, still stunned into silence and immobilized by the news that my world has just been upended.

The boarding call for our flight crackles over the airport intercom, the gate agent's voice announcing that first class passengers are now welcome to board. Chris gently nudges my arm, his calm voice breaking through my anxious haze. 

"Pumpkin, we gotta go." I rise unsteadily to my feet, my legs trembling beneath me like a newborn foal's. Chris's strong arm wraps around my shoulders, steadying me. "Easy, baby. Take it easy," he murmurs. We shuffle towards the gate, and I grip my carry-on bag with white knuckles as the agent scans our boarding passes. Crossing the jet bridge, I feel completely overwhelmed and disoriented. The dull roar of the idling plane engines reverberates through the tunnel, mingling with the clicks and beeps of equipment being loaded into the cargo hold. As we step into the hushed, plush cabin, the flight attendants greet us with practiced smiles. Chris gently takes my bag from my numb fingers.

 "Sit down, baby. I got this," he says softly, stowing my things in the overhead bin. I sink into the buttery leather seat, drawing my knees to my chest and slipping off my shoes. My heart pounds as the reality of leaving everything I know behind finally hits me. In just a few hours, my old life will be thousands of miles away.

A few hours of a quiet tearful flight later I am moving through LAX headed to baggage claim with Chris taking long strides behind me to keep up. Noah stands there waiting for us, shades and ballcap on, solid black ensemble covering his obvious tattoos helping him blend into the crowd. 

I force myself into his arms pushing him back, hearing an ‘oof’ as I hit his chest and wrap my arms around him. New tears poured out of my eyes.  He wraps his arms around me, a hand resting at the top of my head. 

“They fired her, just before we boarded our flight this morning.” Chris explains and I feel Noah’s grip tighten. “I’m heading to get the bags.” Chris disappears to our carousel to grab the rest of our things while I sob into Noah’s chest. 

“Easy, swertheart. I got you. I’m here.” With puffy red eyes and tear-stained cheeks, I cling desperately to Noah in the bustling airport, seeking comfort and stability after the tumultuous events of the morning. Tucked under his arm and Chris right at my back we head out to the thick air to the parking garages.

The humid air clung to us as we made our way across the parking garage, the pungent smell of gasoline and damp concrete filling my nose. Chris walked closely behind me, protective and alert, while Noah led the way to where he had parked the sleek black BMW he had rented for the week. Despite the melancholy that still clung to me, I couldn't help but smile when I saw the luxury vehicle, its polished paint gleaming under the fluorescent lights. When Noah popped the trunk, I instinctively moved to grab my suitcase from Chris so I could load it myself, but he swiftly rolled it out of my reach.

 "Nu uh," he chided gently. 

"Not today, princess," Noah added with a playful slap on my ass. "Get in the car, we got this." 

The freeway and tall buildings pass by in a blur as I alternate from watching the scenery and seeing my two boys conversing in the front seat about their shared memories from venues they both performed at. Chris at some point took off his hat running a hand through the faded locks before putting it back on, Noah chiding that he needed to fix it, he looked ridiculous. The teasing between them was adorable and it lifted my spirits. 

At this point I knew the way to Noah’s like my own home, so when we missed the exit I sat up with a little unease. 

“Noah, we missed the exit.” I say pointing back to where we should be going. 

“Not yet, baby. Have a surprise planned for today.” 

As we drive along the coast, the late afternoon sun glints off the waves rolling gently onto the sand. Noah maneuvers the sedan expertly down Culver Boulevard, past the quirky shops and cafes. I gaze out at the funky murals and street art that give this part of LA its eclectic vibe. As we approach the freeway overpass, the road curves and merges seamlessly into Lincoln Boulevard. Up ahead I can see the iconic lifeguard towers and palm trees swaying over Venice Beach.

Noah glances at me in the rearview mirror and I give him a little smile. As we get closer to the ocean, I can't wait any longer. I roll down the window and breathe in deeply, letting the salty sea air wash over me. It's refreshing and energizing. I rest my cheek on my folded arms and let my hair blow freely in the breeze. With my eyes closed, I can almost taste the briny tang on my lips. I lose myself for a moment in the sound of the crashing waves.

We pull into the pier deck parking lot and I can already see bustling crowds of people headed to the pier. The sound of seagulls and waves crashing against the shore fills the air as families, couples, and groups of friends make their way eagerly toward the attractions. I can see the towering ferris wheel looming over the boardwalk, its brightly colored cars circling slowly as riders take in the stunning views of the ocean and coastline. I am absolutely dying to get on it next. The three of us pile out of the car, Noah's hands resting gently on my shoulders as we wait for Chris to gather his things. He tucks his phone into his pocket and opens the back of the trunk, rummaging around to find his suitcase.

"Didn't expect beach day," he murmurs, searching through his cosmetics bag until he finds his sunscreen. He rubs it thoroughly onto his face, applying just a little more to his fingers before coming over to me and gently massaging it into my nose and cheeks. He places a soft kiss on my forehead when he's done, a sweet and caring gesture. 

Noah locks up the car wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me to his side. I look over my shoulder to see Chris towering just behind me a reassuring smile and a wink before throwing on his own sunglasses and popping a piece of gum into his mouth. 

The delicious aromas of sizzling burgers and shrimp wafting through the seaside air make my empty stomach growl impatiently. Noah notices my hungry gaze wandering toward the restaurants, looking around over his shoulder as he drags us back to a restaurant we passed a few steps back. 

Seaside on the pier is beautiful with cute whicker chairs and tables inside the dining room for a relaxed feel. The breezy, nautical decor provides a perfect complement to the views of the sparkling ocean just outside. Noah gets us a seat on the upper balcony so we can all still see the ocean and hear the commotion outside - seagulls calling, waves crashing, families laughing. Perched above the boardwalk, we have a prime vantage point to gaze out over the water.

As I eagerly peruse the menu at the beachside cafe, I grow concerned that there may not be many vegan-friendly options for Chris. I'm not entirely sure if Noah is aware of Chris' dietary restrictions, but thankfully when the server arrives, Chris orders the pier vegan burger and fries without hesitation.

Meanwhile, Noah opts for the classic fish and chips plate, while I practically salivate reading the description of the fish tacos and cannot wait to devour them. We finish our seaside lunch and immediately head for the bustling boardwalk arcade nearby. After an hour or so of intense competition on the quarter games, we decide to move down the boardwalk towards the towering ferris wheel. While waiting in line, Noah spots a nearby funnel cake vendor and buys an oversized plate piled high with the powdered sugar-dusted fried dough. 

He playfully pinches off a bite-sized piece and taps my cheek, signaling for me to open my mouth so he can gently place the sweet, decadent morsel on my eager tongue. As I savor the treat, something in Noah's expression shifts ever so slightly as he glances over at Chris. When I turn to see what has caught his attention, I notice the flame in the glass-encased candle tattooed on Chris' neck flicker subtly in sync with his throat muscles tensing as he swallows hard.

As we step into the gently swaying ferris wheel car, I nestle close to Noah, feeling his strong arm wrap around my shoulders. I kick off my sandals and curl my feet into Chris's lap, leaning my head against Noah's chest as the car begins its ascent. A hush falls over us as we rise higher and higher above the sandy beach, the crowds and noise fading into silence. Through the window I watch the people below shrink smaller and smaller, becoming mere dots on the landscape. Up here, it's just the three of us suspended in the sky, with nothing but the whispers of wind and the slow revolution of the wheel. Noah's heartbeat thrums steadily under my ear while Chris's fingers trace idle patterns on my bare ankles. We don't need to speak; the quiet companionship and closeness is enough.

After a few more revolutions, the ride attendant helps us out of the car. Noah stops by a souvenir vendor purchasing a few more gifts, teasing it will be great to bring back for Nick who is all the way back home in Virginia. As we wait for him to wrap up Chris pulls me in, wrapping his arms around my waist and interlocking our fingers as his head rests on my shoulder. 

“How are you feeling, pumpkin?” he asks, placing a small kiss on my neck. 

“Better.” I offer. He hums in response. 

“Anything I can do?” I shake my head as Noah approaches us again, my eyes scan the boardwalk and I spot the perfect photo backdrop - the ferris wheel looming colorful behind us, the sun melting into a pool of pink and orange on the horizon. I flag down a passerby and ask if she can take a photo of the three of us. Noah and Chris stand on either side of me, their arms encircling my waist. I wrap my arms around them in return, pulling us together. As the camera shutter clicks, our smiles reflect the warmth and joy of this perfect beachside evening spent with my two favorite people in the world.

Chris’s POV

As we drove down the freeway late at night, the city lights zooming past in a blur, I glanced over at Eve in the backseat. Her face was illuminated by the bright screen of her phone as she furiously typed out text after text, her thumbs flying across the keyboard. I wondered who she was messaging so intensely, especially with both me and Noah in the car with her. Noah kept his eyes steadily on the road ahead as he drove us back to his house, the long day finally catching up with us. Our bodies were drained and our stomachs pleasantly full after Noah had taken us all around the city, stopping at the best hidden gem restaurants and little shops.

While we were at dinner, I had taken a moment to shoot a quick message to my friend Susie, who helps me manage a rental property I own back home. A few years back, I had leased a couple apartments in a building, using one unit for visiting friends and family. But with several new Airbnbs popping up in the area lately, my extra apartment hadn't been getting much use. I texted Susie asking about the condition of the vacant unit, and she replied saying it was in desperate need of a deep clean and some updated decor. I immediately started pinning ideas on Pinterest, sending them over to Susie and urging her to spruce up the space.

I hadn’t mentioned it to her before, but I had thoughts about her moving in with me, just wasn’t sure how to approach her about it. Now, with the loss of her job, I hoped to offer her the apartment as soon as it was fixed up. I hadn't mentioned anything to Eve yet though. After my last communication blunder involving her and Noah, I knew I needed to discuss the idea with Noah first this time, before saying anything to Eve.

We wind through the Hollywood hills, the road snaking back and forth as our car climbs higher. The houses begin to thin out and get further apart. I crane my neck back to look in the backseat and see Eve has her head resting on her hand, her eyes closed as she fights sleep. The smooth motion of the car is gently rocking her. Outside my window, the view opens up to showcase the sprawling city below, its lights twinkling in the dusky evening. After a few more turns, we end up in what I assume is Noah's driveway. His house is modern and sleek, all sharp angles and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering metropolis. It looks expensive, like the type of luxury home only a movie star could afford. I look left and right at his neighbors' houses. They all have high fences and perfectly manicured yards - not one matching the style of another. It's so different from the east coast and the rows of colonial homes that are carbon copies of one another, with matching white siding and black shutters. Out here, each mansion seems intent on outdoing the next with its unique architecture and lavish details. The Mediterranean-style villas we passed earlier are now far below, their orange tile roofs standing out among the jumble of steel and glass in this exclusive neighborhood high in the Hollywood hills. Noah's house is the most striking yet, looming large with its concrete and steel construction perched precipitously on the hillside. 

Noah helps with the bags as I pick up Eve following him through the door, carrying her through the front door like she is my new bride on our honeymoon. Her eyes turn to the entryway and she squeals in my arms tightening her own around my neck like a boa. As I step over the threshold into the expansive open concept living room, Eve gasps and squeezes me even tighter, her excitement palpable. The space is modern and luxurious, with huge glass pane balconies that flood the room with natural light. My eyes are immediately drawn to the far wall, which is dominated by an enormous flat screen TV that looks like it was built right into the wall itself. But the true showstopper is the gigantic circular bed that sits prominently in the middle of the room, draped in neutral linens and piled high with plush pillows. It looks like something out of a fancy hotel suite, big enough for a whole family to comfortably lounge.

 Eve is utterly enthralled, still clinging to me as her wide eyes dart around the room, taking it all in. "Do you like it?" Noah asks, though the answer is clear from Eve's overjoyed reaction. 

She nods her head sliding from my grip to run over to the oversized bed that easily envelops her as she jumps into the soft duvet and pillows squealing. 

“What’s this?” I stand perplexed, having assumed I would retire separately to the guest room for the night. But Noah's sly grin and conspiratorial pat on the back imply he has other plans in mind.

“Sleepover. That’s what.”

[lulu2992]

From the Inquisitor to the Baptist: The Evolution of John Seed

Part 6: Sources, references, and further reading

(There are links under all the pictures in this post)

1: Concept art posted by Nick Arnett on Instagram

"Here is some more concept art I got to be in, that never made it." https://www.instagram.com/p/BvwpicenXHg/

And many thanks to @minilev for originally sharing the picture on Tumblr here!

2: “Last-Supper-like” images

The first picture was used to promote the game, for example during E3 2017 where it was on display outside the Los Angeles Convention Center (it briefly appears in this video).

I couldn’t find who exactly made it, but you can see/download it in very high definition (12,500 x 2,000 pixels) here:

The second is the “Key Art”, made by an entire team (and some of the people below most likely also worked on the previous one):

Creative Director: Michael Hammond Art Director: Brian Tippie Lead Artist: Wil Wells Assisting Artist: Camille Fache Assisting Artist: One Pixel Brush - Shaddy Safadi, Matteo Marjoram Character Art: Petur Arnorsson Brand Management: Dilip Priyanath, Ann Hamilton, Bailey McAndrews, Thomas Seris Project Management: Alicia Ruiz, Sam Nielsen Authenticity Coordinator: Travis Getz Reference photography: Ryan Flynn with Brick & Chrome Additional work by Blur Studio (they usually make the CGI trailers), Helix, and Studio Mtl.

See/download it in HD (7,000 x 4,054 pixels) here:

3: AmCo Studio

See development sketches for the “Last-Supper-like” images here.

4: Fire Without Smoke

Find development sketches and details about the creation of the “Last-Supper-like” images here.

5: The symbols on John’s fingers

This mystery was finally solved in February 2022 by @commonant (deactivated account; if you see this, thank you) here!

6: “Taolennoù Ar Mission” by François-Marie Balanant

See the scans here on the website of the Bibliothèques de l’Université Rennes 2 (Libraries of the University of Rennes 2, France).

7: Seven deadly sins (Wikipedia)

The page that most likely inspired the developers a lot.

8: Infantry tattoo

An example by Garrett Tankersley (@tat2garrett) on Instagram:

"Infantry tattoo" https://www.instagram.com/p/66MheiDlc8/

9: Old Far Cry 5 official website

Still visible thanks to the Wayback Machine here.

10: PlayAsia blog

They posted information about Far Cry 5 and its characters here. I still have no idea if the pictures are official or not...

11: Promotional picture for Far Cry Absolution

Posted on X (Twitter) by the Official Far Cry account here.

12: Inside Eden’s Gate

The short film is available for free on Ubisoft North America’s official YouTube channel here.

13: Rob Evors’ actual tattoo

Visible in this picture (the three letters on his left wrist):

14: John’s tattoos in Inside Eden’s Gate

Casey Lynn Stuckey’s Instagram post (3 pictures):

"Check out these sweet detail shots of the tattoos I hand painted on @foreversevors for Far Cry 5: Inside Eden’s Gate." https://www.instagram.com/p/Bf1q09eFJ1K/

And another Instagram post by Nina Shyne Alviar showing Casey Lynn and Sandra Stuckey painting tattoos on Rob Evors:

"My amazing MUFX/HMU team members Casey and Sandra, hand painting tats on Rob Sevors’ hands for his role as John Seed in Far Cry 5: Inside Edens Gate! Casey did it the first time all on her own, carefully matching the designs to the gameplay. Have you seen it yet? On Amazon Prime Video right now. And the game is out on 3/27." https://www.instagram.com/p/BgeuadJnNHj/

15: “Anything Can Happen, Everything Will” live-action TV spot

Watch it on Ubisoft North America’s official YouTube channel here.

16: Jon Oswald’s Instagram post about the Far Cry 5 TV spot

"New Far Cry commercial out today! Keep your eye out for me at the end. I'm the asshole in the GUCCI TRENCH COAT." https://www.instagram.com/p/BgRoavQhgcP/

17: Kenz Lawrén’s Instagram post about Inside Eden’s Gate and the TV spot (8 pictures)

"✨✨ I am so excited to announce the release of The FarCry5 short film: EDEN’S GATE on amazon prime!! ✨✨I had such an awesome time shooting in Montana and just wanted to take a moment to thank the production, the cast and the fans of Far Cry for all their love and support." https://www.instagram.com/p/BgpYTCojq7x/

18: Jon Oswald’s tattoos

In this picture (right wrist):

And this one (dog on his left forearm):

19: Storyboards for the TV spot

Drawn by Anthony Winn and shared on ArtStation.

20: The Book of Joseph

Rare promotional item given as a pre-order bonus for Far Cry 5. It’s never been available for sale (officially) but you can find several options to read it in this post.

21: “Far Cry 5: Why John Seed Is Your Charmingly Deadly Enemy”

Watch the video on IGN’s YouTube channel here.

22: John’s “You have been Marked” video

The source file (which doesn’t have sound) of the final in-game version was extracted by @hopecountyradio here.

As for the audio, you can go here to listen to John only, here for the background noise and voices, and here for the original, full version of the music.

23: “Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse” concept art

The artwork was based on a painting by Viktor Vasnetsov (1887). It’s official but I don’t know the name of the artist(s).

Find it in HD (5,000 x 2,672 pixels) here:

24: Official screenshot(s)

Created by Screenshot Artist Jayden Bell and posted on ArtStation.

There are more here, here, and here.

25: Poster

Official picture you can find here (3,276 x 3,276 pixels), for example. I don’t know the artist(s) who created it.

26: “John Seed - The Inquisitor | Character Spotlight”

Watch this trailer on Ubisoft’s official YouTube channel here.

27: John’s vest

Its secret was exposed by @inafieldofdaisies here. Again, great find!

28: John’s 3D model and textures

They were extracted by HeliosAl and are available for download on DeviantArt here and here.

29: John and Sloth

Just in case anyone is interested, I posted my opinion and analysis here back in September 2020.

30: Pictures in the Holmes Residence

Extracted by @vls-gamingscrapbook here.

31: Seed family portrait

Extracted by @vls-gamingscrapbook here.

32: Picture in Dutch’s bunker

Extracted by @vls-gamingscrapbook here, as well as the source files for the poster and billboard (even though the images included in my post were my screenshots).

33: Journal image (The Confession)

Found on the Far Cry Wiki, but made by Graphic Designer David Bouchard-Gagnon.

34: Early version of the “You have been Marked” TV broadcast

The video I posted was recorded in my game, but the source file was also uploaded by @vls-gamingscrapbook here.

35: Pictures from the deleted in-game encyclopedia

Extracted and posted by @xbaebsae here.

36: Render

The picture I posted was my screenshot, but you can find the full, original render here (3,840 x 4,937 pixels):

37: Early icons

Extracted by @vls-gamingscrapbook here.

38: “Seeking Absolution - Interview with Urban Waite”

Watch the video on Ubisoft North America’s official YouTube channel here.

39: Holly in Far Cry 5

NPC line about Holly Pepper:

I remember a girl named Holly used to live here with her girlfriend Charlie. They were the first people I knew to join Eden's Gate.

You can hear it in the game.

40: Drew Holmes interview

It was deleted so the link doesn’t work, but you could read it here:

https://www.gamecrate.com/far-cry-5-lead-writer-villains-cults-and-crafting-story/18396

I posted a screenshot of it here in September 2018.

41: “Far Cry 5 - Inside the intro sequence”

Watch the video on Ubisoft UK’s official YouTube channel here.

An article about it was also published on the now-deleted UbiBlog here (retrieved thanks to the Wayback Machine again).

42: oasisstrings

Available either here (website by Steve Botter a.k.a. Steve64b) or on the Far Cry Wiki here and here (subtitles).

43: John’s deleted lines

Listen to them here on @voices-of-hope-county.

44: Hudson’s comment about John

Posted here by @oh-the-bliss.

45: Seed Ranch concept art

I sadly don’t know who the artist is, but you can find it here (1,398 x 845 pixels):

46: Tennis courts?

Listen to Sharky and Nick talk about John’s tennis courts (which don’t exist in the game) here on @voices-of-hope-county.

I tried to trigger Nick’s comment in the game but couldn’t, so it may have been cut, but Sharky’s line still exists.

47: Seed Ranch

Picture by Environment Artist Brian Harries found on ArtStation.

48: John’s “sex room”

I tried to find more information about this mysterious room here.

49: Survivor’s comment in New Dawn

Find it in oasisstrings here. I know it’s in the game because someone recorded it once, but I couldn’t find the post...

50: Cultists’ lines at Seed Ranch

I recorded two videos and posted them here and here. The comment about John being so busy he barely goes to the ranch is in the second one.

51: “Your Question”

John’s letter for a cultist named Terry. See the screenshot of the complete answer on the Far Cry Wiki:

52: John and Mary May’s secrets

This was originally discovered by @xbaebsae in this great post I recommend reading if you like early/deleted content!

53: Abandoned storylines

Listen to three outdated lines here on @voices-of-hope-county.

54: Kim’s deleted line about John

Listen to it here on @voices-of-hope-county.

55: Joseph’s eulogy for John

Listen to the audio here on @voices-of-hope-county.

56: Joseph’s message for John at Seed Ranch

Listen to it here on @voices-of-hope-county.

[cashcowclothing]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Ed Hardy Tattoo LA Mens Gray Graphic T-Shirt Small Stretch Tiger Animal Print.

[weddingdjs]

(via The TikTok Effect: How the App Transforms the Photo Booth Industry)

The TikTok Effect

Audio Visual, Special Effects, Event Lighting, Event Musicians, DJ, MC, Photo Booth, 360 Video Booth, Photo Booth Rental, Halo Photo Booth, Photo Booth Rental Near Me, Arcade machine rental, tiktok Video Booth, Face Painting, Temporary Custom Tattoos, Wireless Headphones Party,LED Screen Rental, Sweet 16 DJ LA, Quinceanera DJ, Israeli DJ, Los Angeles DJ, EDM DJ, LED Dance Floor, Bar Mitzvah DJ, Bat Mitzvah DJ, Event Decoration, Photographer, Videographer. הסעת עובדים, מיגון אש. Event Productions

TikTok Photo Booth / EDM Sample Packs / EDM DJ / Wedding DJ/ 360 Photo Booth / Free Sample Packs / 360 Video Booth / הסעות עובדים / מיגון אש / Event Productions

[the-needle-witch]

A ladder and a bad luck baby cat with wee lil steppy feet for a new client, Chris. thank you so much for ur trust and ur enthusiasm!

[sagehaleyofficial]

HERE’S WHAT YOU MISSED THIS WEEK (8.11-8.17.21):

NEW MUSIC:

- Machine Gun Kelly revealed the title of his upcoming new album, Born With Horns. The singer was seen getting a new tattoo alongside Blink-182's Travis Barker bearing the phrase in an Instagram post, with the pair later dropping the single “Papercuts.” - Ice Nine Kills dropped another music video from the upcoming new album The Silver Scream 2: Welcome to Horrorwood. The song is titled “Assault and Batteries,” inspired by the movie Child’s Play. - Hawthorne Heights dropped the title track of their upcoming new album The Rain Just Follows Me, out October 22. The song follows the release of their previous single “Constant Dread.” - Frank Carter and the Rattlesnakes released the latest track from their upcoming new album Sticky titled “Go Get a Tattoo.” The song features the vocal talents of pop artist Lynks. - Halsey revealed the full track listing of their upcoming new album If I Can't Have Love, I Want Power. Produced by Nine Inch Nails' Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, the album is set to be released on August 27. - Thrice released another track from their upcoming new album Horizons/East titled “Robot Soft Exorcism.” The new album is out digitally on September 17, with a physical release on October 8, via Epitaph. - Chase Atlantic released a visual accompaniment to their track “Ohmami.” The track is the first music the band have released since their full-length Beauty in Death at the start of the year. - Dragged Under released a new collab with Underoath’s Spencer Chamberlain titled “Brainwash Broadcast.” The band released their debut album The World is in Your Way last year via Mascot Records. - Black Veil Brides released a new video for their latest single “Torch.” Their upcoming album The Phantom Tomorrow is set for release on October 29 via Sumerian Records. - Crown the Empire released a new track called “In Another Life” featuring Courtney LaPlante of Spiritbox. The song is the first new music from the band since last year's acoustic release 07102010. - This Wild Life revealed the details of their new full-length album Ever Blossom, their first since setting out once more as an independent band. The announcement comes with their new single “If It's Cool With You I'm Cool With Being Through.” - Normandie shared an acoustic version of their track “Hostage” from their most recent album. It's the latest in a long line of acoustic versions that the band have been releasing as of late. - Anxious revealed that they have signed a record deal with Run for Cover Records, as well as released a new single titled “Call From You.” The track follows on from a two-track EP called New Shapes that they released earlier this year. - Real Friends shared a new cover of the Smashing Pumpkins' 1995 hit “Tonight, Tonight.” The band also recently released reimagined versions of their tracks “Nervous Wreck” and “Storyteller.” - Mayday Parade shared a new song titled “Bad at Love.” The song follows on from their previous single “Kids of Summer,” which serves as an ode to their Vans Warped Tour days.

TOUR ANNOUNCEMENTS:

- Neck Deep announced a pair of warm-up shows ahead of their main stage appearance at Reading & Leeds festival later this month. The band are set to perform at Wrexham's William Aston Hall on August 24 and in Chester at The Live Rooms on August 25. - Architects revealed that they have rescheduled their upcoming tour of the UK/Europe to later in 2022. The tour will now kick off on May 2 in Leeds and end on May 20 in Frankfurt. - Bring Me the Horizon frontman Oli Sykes joined Yungblud onstage during his show at London's O2 Kentish Town Forum last week. The performance marked the pair’s live debut of their collab song “Obey.” - As It Is announced two warm-up shows ahead of their appearance at Slam Dunk Festival next month. The band will play Brighton's Patterns venue on September 1 and Swansea's Sin City on September 2. - Reading & Leeds Festival announced that Spiritbox, Gallows and Cleopatrick will no longer be playing. In addition, the festival added Dinosaur Pile-Up, Holding Absence and Loathe to the lineup. - Yungblud delivered a cover of David Bowie's classic track “Heroes” at Great Britain’s Olympic homecoming concert. It was the second time this year that the singer has covered Bowie, taking on “Life On Mars” at a recent celebration concert. - Palaye Royale are set to play a free acoustic show in Los Angeles this coming Saturday at the corner of Hollywood Boulevard and Wilcox Avenue. The band will also be playing at The Wiltern on October 1, with support from De’Wayne and Mothica. - Foo Fighters announced that they will be making a return to the United Kingdom next summer. The band will play three shows in June and one London show in July with multiple guests. - All Time Low’s Alex Gaskarth joined Blackbear onstage at his show last night in Texas for a performance of their smash hit “Monsters.” They also performed the song last week at Sad Summer Fest in Anaheim, California.

OTHER NEWS:

- Mindless Self Indulgence's James Euringer, aka Jimmy Urine, is being sued for alleged sexual assault of a minor, according to reports. Rolling Stone reported that a lawsuit was filed in New York City last Monday. - The nominees for the 2021 MTV Video Music Awards were revealed, with Evanescence and Foo Fighters nominated for Best Rock. The nominees for Best Alternative include Twenty One Pilots, Machine Gun Kelly and WILLOW. ___ Check in next Tuesday for more “Posi Talk with Sage Haley"!

[gaythingliker69]

Platinum Wings - Part I

Mary Saotome sighed and glanced at her laptop on the desk. The front reception where she sat was small - a desk running along the right hand side of the rectangular room, with a door to the back situated behind Mary. The front door itself was on her left, offering a window into the semi-busy street beyond. She heard the hustle and bustle of late morning taking place outside, and prayed she didn’t have to turn away anyone looking for a consultation or anyone wanting an impromptu small job. Frankly, she couldn’t afford to - running an independent tattoo parlour was more expensive than she’d imagined. Finally, she found the name she was looking for, her next client - Ririka Momobami.

Momobami. The name sounded familiar, a heavy weight sitting static in Mary’s head that felt wrong on her tongue. It contrasted to the given name, which felt light and almost airy as she rolled it around in her head and even said it under her breath. She caught herself, and tried to snap out of it. She was a client. Hell, Mary didn’t even know what she looked like.

Mary was snapped from her reverie by the sound of the door opening. A woman poked her head around the door, rosy cheeks and piercing turquoise eyes framed by platinum blonde hair. Mary was stunned momentarily - her face matched her name, seeming to radiate a warm sort of energy that felt so familiar, yet completely alien at the same time.

“Is this Mary’s?” asked Ririka, her voice so soft she was nearly drowned out by the noise of the street.

“Uh, y-yeah, that’s me,” said Mary, cursing her nerves and trying to regain her composure. “You’re Ririka, right?”

The woman nodded and moved into the shop, revealing she wore a plain white tank top and jeans, carrying a simple black bag that didn’t have an apparent brand. She sat at the desk opposite Mary.

“So… you said you wanted wings on your back? Are you thinking angel or animal?” Mary asked, scalding hersekf for asking too many questions far too quickly.

“Yeah, I was thinking angel wings. On the back of my ribs, starting from either side of my spine. I’d like them sort of tucked into like a resting position so they run down my back, not spread out. I’ve got a picture in my bag if you want to see.”

“Yeah, that’d be really helpful, thanks.”

Ririka pulled out a piece of paper, turning it to reveal the image. The wings sprouted from what looked like new bones, almost like a second set of shoulder blades, curling up into an arch, then dropping down, feathers layering over each other in a cascade, narrowing as they went until they hit a tip of a single feather, which Mary assumed would be past the bottom of Ririka’s ribs towards her hips.

“So I was thinking, the wings start just below my shoulder blades by my spine. They arc up so the top of the bend goes onto my shoulder a little bit, then go back down the back of my ribs.”

Mary stared at the image, watching Ririka’s elegant fingers indicate the different parts of the wings. Her nails were perfect - hardly a mark or chip to be seen. She realised silence hung over them, and she had to speak, to respond to Ririka’s… no, the client’s wishes.

“Yeah! Yeah, absolutely. I can get started shortly if you want.”

“Okay!” said Ririka, her face lighting up and radiating that same warm energy again.

Mary gestured to the door behind her, and Ririka rounded the desk and went through. The back room had what looked like a weird sort of recliner in the centre, but it was slightly worn and beaten, it’s black surface frayed at the edges. The dark red walls were partially decorated with pictures and concepts Mary had done over the years, and the only window was blocked by white shutters. One design seemed to be an album cover, a stereotypical skull with sharp typeface surrounding it. Another was a mix of flags, flagpoles crossed, linking the individual flags together at a common cross-section , a date etched below them. Another was a dove, soaring away from what appeared to be a black line, the vibrant life clear in its eyes and wings. Another picture bore the visage of Medusa, the individual fangs and tongue of each snake visible as her deep frown offered an odd air of protection.

“I’ll lower the chair, and then if you’d lie down on your front? Make yourself as comfortable as possible.”

Ririka nodded as Mary fiddled with the back of the chair, eventually lowering it into more of a bench. Mary went to prepare the ink, her heart racing in her chest, so loud she was sure Ririka heard it. She needed to stay calm - this was a tattoo, this was permanent. If she ever wanted a chance with this girl…

No. Don’t think like that. Just do your job. She kept preparing the ink and needles, trying to ignore the sound of falling clothes and shifting on the bench behind her. Eventually, she turned and oh my god Ririka didn’t have a shirt on. Of course she didn’t. She was lying on her front, back to the air. It was a back tattoo, she’d done these hundreds of times on loads of people. Some of the hottest people she’d ever seen. But she felt nervous here, something she couldn’t afford to feel. This was different, a part of her kept insisting. She knew that part of her was right, deep down, but she couldn’t acknowledge it for now.

“Would you like music, Ririka?” Mary asked. God that name sounded musical, like a collection of chimes blowing perfectly in the wind.

“Please. Something soft? I’m not sure if you have that, but I need something to drift through the pain on, you know?”

“Of course!” responded Mary, moving to get the lo-fi playlist on her phone. “You’re the first person to ask for music like this… most people go for Cane Hill, Five Finger Death Punch, In Hearts Wake, stuff you can power through pain on. Or some people have no music abs grit their teeth.”

“I don’t know who any of those babds are, honestly. But if no one ever used the playlist, why’d you keep it around?”

Mary stopped, looked at her phone, and looked at the woman laying on the chair. She thought for a second, her brow creasing slightly.

“I don’t know. I guess I thought someone would need it, one day, and it didn’t do any harm to keep it.”

Ririka nodded, satisfied by an answer that felt, in a way, too personal for two people who’d known each other all of ten minutes.

Mary lined up her chair and light to work from. Using Ririka’s picture for reference, she traced the outline of Ririka’s wings onto tracing paper. She disinfected Ririka’s back, and laid the stencil down gently on her back, patting it down with reverence. Reverence Mary didn’t know she was capable of. After a few minutes of silence, only interrupted by more disinfecting, Mary gently peeled off the stencil.

“It looks good to me, you wanna check the mirror?”

Ririka stood up, and Mary averted her eyes in panic. Obviously there was no need to stare, but why was she acting like this? She needed to snap out of it.

“It all looks good to me,” said Ririka, lying back down and allowing Mary to be free of her panic.

“Ok, so this’ll hurt a bit in a few places. The ‘blades’ next to your spine and any ink around your actual shoulder blades or muscle at the top here,” she gently tapped the muscle in between Ririka’s neck and shoulder, her finger tingling with some kind of amazing energy from the small contact. “Do you want anything to bite on?”

“No, thank you, I should be okay.”

“Am I okay to start then?” asked the artist, her voice coming out much more softly than she intended. “Just say if you need a break, okay?”

Ririka nodded, settling into the bench as Mary adjusted her light. The noise of the machine drowned out the music slightly, but Ririka didn’t complain. She was a bit tense - everyone was for their first time. But she was strong, enduring the pain as the needles moved up towards her shoulder blades. As they reached the arch, a single tear dropped from her left eye. Mary moved to stop the machine, her heart wrenching, begging her, screaming at her to turn it off.

“No. Keep going.”

Her steely determination showed through in her eyes, almost foggy with tears, and Mary did as Ririka asked. She didn’t normally stop anyway, why was this different? Ririka seemed to ease as Mary moved down her back, only tensing up again slightly as she completed the basic outline by her spine. Next, Mary added layer on layer of feathers, keeping Ririka’s picture there like a guiding star. Ririka hummed to the faint music, seeming to just allow the pain to go over her instead of putting on some dramatic performance like some of the people Mary tattooed. But Mary knew when it hurt, as all of her clients gave off different signs. Ririka was more obvious, squeezing her eyes shut and sometimes biting her lip. Mary scalded herself again, watching the client’s face instead of her back. She eventually completed the first wing, and the muffled buzz of the machine stopped.

“I’m half done. Are you doing okay down there?” Mary asked, trying not to sound like she cared too much, but like she would act for her other clients. She failed.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m ready for the other half whenever you are.”

Mary got back to work, trying to focus all her attention on the piece at hand. Trying to ignore the gentle slope of Ririka’s shoulders, the small movements of her chest as she breathed, the soft valley of her lower back…

Mary nearly blushed as she worked. What was wrong with her? Well, she knew what was ‘wrong’. But now wasn’t the time. Not when she was working. As she inked over Ririka’s shoulders, her heart wrenched again, telling her to turn the machine off as it was so obvious she was hurting Ririka. But she pushed on, like Ririka would have wanted, finishing the wing in the same way she had the first, Ririka relaxing as the needle moved away from her shoulders. She turned the machine off after etching in the last of the detail, it’s constant buzz replaced by deep breaths and the music, still playing quietly.

“Ok, so I need to moisturise and bandage it, then you should be ok to get up.”

Mary took the moisturiser, gently working it into Ririka’s back and shoulders, being careful not to hurt her any more than she had. Her heart wrenched again as Ririka caught her breath due to the pain on her shoulders. For the third time, Mary tried to stop it. For the third time, she failed. Her hands felt on fire as she worked the moisturiser across the new tattoo - they felt more alive than any part of her ever had. It was like sparks or fire flowed through her hands. She was a conductor of her own nervous energy and feelings, and also her hope Ririka felt the same way. Mary gently laid a bandage across Ririka’s upper back and shoulders, tenderly pressing it down.

“Okay, I’m finished, you can take the bandage off after a few hours,” Mary’s voice was still soft, not her usual tone.

Ririka stood up, and Mary averted her eyes, busying herself with disinfectant. She heard Ririka pull her clothes over her head, looking up as she heard the woman move towards the door. Mary sat back at her small reception, and Ririka paid. Mary hardly registered the amount - all she saw was the afternoon sun through platinum blonde. Mary handed her an aftercare booklet, still in her daze. But then she realised - this was her chance.

“R-Ririka?”

She back from the door. She was about to leave. This was Mary’s only chance. The sun shone in her eyes now, and they sparkles like the most beautiful ocean, their depth unknowable but their beauty clear as day. Maybe the sparkle was hope.

“You know… you know… if you ever needed anything else doing, you have my number?”

Ririka seemed to deflate a little, or maybe it was Mary’s imagination.

“Yeah, of course. Thank you Mary, you’ve been wonderful.”

She left. The door closed. Mary’s stomach pitched, and a deep hole opened in her chest. She sat back in her chair, and now her tears were the only ones being shed in the parlour.

[hallowghoul]

sza, bisexual, cisfemale + she/her― hey look, it’s kennedy matthers! they’re twenty eight years old, they’ve lived in shrike heights for twenty eight years, and they’re currently working at jennifer’s. i heard they’re pretty arrogant, but i think they’re so daring at the same time. can they make it out alive? || 

born & raised in shrike to antoinette and darnell matthers, an only child, in a home full of love and prosperity 

her mother worked tirelessly at the shrike elementary while her father worked as a mechanic in town

kennedy was raised as an only child and was honestly a great one at that, she had little to no trouble growing up and was taught never to take anything for granted

she spent most of her time with her grandmother who watched her after school and was the one to instill in her the love of art, specifically painting. 

kennedy was great at it, in her own mind, and her mother always saw potential in her daughter and pushed her to hone in on the craft

after graduating shrike high, she went off to los angeles for college, attending ucla for an art degree 

despite her incredible career in the west coast the money simply was not there for her and she was cast back to the small town with just enough money to buy herself a home, a small cottage style one floor house on the edge of town

kennedy picked up the job at jennifer’s shamelessly and is a rather good fit at the store, she loves to help her clients feel good about themselves and even if the job isn’t her dream... it’s a temporary blip in her timeline

she’s very comfortable with herself, her sexuality and her worth, she’s at a point in her life where she isn’t wasting any time

if she isn’t working she’s often found at the roller disco or julio’s breaking out the dusty karaoke machine

FUN FACTS

has multiple small hand tattoos though her favorite is a crown wrapped around her middle finger

is one of the most brutally honest people you’ll ever meet

gemini baby and is very true to the characteristics that fall in the mix 

still paints in her free time though there’s a bit of artistic block when it comes down to it, her failure in california has left her at a roadblock 

can be androgynous in her clothing style but tends to lean more feminine 

[trendingtattoo]

Top 40 Female Tattoo Artists Around The World

Tattoo art is not just a male thing, in fact, there are several female tattoo artists famous world-wide. Today, we are presenting you with top 40 female tattoo artists around the world. These are all top most influential female tattoo artists. They are known for making a difference and taking the industry to the next level. Have a look at our list below…….

1. Hannah Aitchison

Hannah Aitchison is an American tattoo artist, currently located in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. With over twenty years of industry experience, Hannah Aitchinson is one of the most famous female tattoo artists. She has been featured on a number of tattoo reality shows, including LA Ink and Best Ink as a judge. She owns a tattoo studio, namely, Curiosity Shop where she works with her husband Scott White.

2. Petra Hlavackova

Petra Hlavackova, hails from Czech Republic, and is currently located in Berlin. She is famous for her sketchy, heavily lined tattooing style which is mostly done black and white with sporadic bursts of bright colors. Majority of her work features the geometric style of abstract tattooing along with portrait or nature themed artwork. She has earned herself a name in the world of watercolor tattooing. She is an amazing artist, if you are looking for a watercolor tattoo work, then she is the right person.

3. Yanina Viland

Yanina Viland is a Ukranian tattoo artist, currently located in Saint Petersburg. Yanina is known for her sketchy, modern style of tattoo work. Her work heavily emphasizes the use of bold lines and watercolor-esque splashes of color. She has gained popularity across the world for her beautiful artwork. Yanina strongly believes in improvisation, most of her work is improvised, as the result of conversations and inspirations with her clients, family and friends. She has a unique gallery, which you can always get inspired by.

4. Lara Maju

Lara is a Hamburg based tattoo artist, designer and artist. Her work majorly spans tattoos, visual art and fashion. If you’re looking for the hand-poked tattoo varieties, then Lara is the person for you. She is known for her outstanding tattooing skills. She typically uses black ink along with some colors mixed in for a soft wash of pigment.

5. Zihee

Zihee is a South Korean tattoo artist, presently she is located in Seoul, Korea. Zihee has earned a name for herself through her unique tattoo designs. She has mastered the art of tiny tattoos. Most of her designs include small and colorful flowers and animals. If a tiny tattoo is your choice, then Zihee is your person. Whether you are looking for a tiny rose etched on your ear or a floral painting etched on back, Zihee does it all.

6. Meghan Patrick

Meghan, the New Jersey based tattoo artist. She has been tattooing since 2002, and is famous for creating colorful artwork with a high level of technical skill and enthusiasm. Her subject spans from pop culture, to abstract, and nature themes. She describes her style as “pretty.” She has won over 20 awards at various conventions around the U.S. and is currently working at Twelve Ounce Studios in Deptford, NJ.

7. Miryam Lumpini

Miryam Lumpini is a Swedish-born tattoo artist and painter. She is famous for her outstanding artwork. Currently she lives in Los Angeles. Her clientele includes celebrities like Jhené Aiko, Swae Lee, and Skrillex. She is known for her bright and bold tattoo designs.

8. Masha Vivo

Masha Vivo is a Moscow-based tattoo artist, and is famously known for her super thin script and delicate drawings and tiny tattoo designs. If you are seriously obsessed with tiny tattoos, then Masha is the one to follow. All her designs her unique and beautiful. She operates from her own tattoo studio – Vivo Tattoo Studio.

9. Stephanie Brown

Stephanie Brown is a tattooist and painter. She has been working in the tattooing industry since 2010. Currently she is located in Chicago and she used to work at Butterfat Studios, a private, appointment-only studio in Logan Square. Her work is mostly influenced by natural elements, like flora and fauna, her tattoos look more like a painting. She is known for her intricate artwork. If intricacy is that you desire, then Stephanie Brown is the one for you!

10. Gabby Colledge

Gabby Colledge is a London based musician and tattoo artist. Colledge is very well-known for her cursive tattoos, which she does in her own handwriting for an organic but imperfect look. Her clientele includes celebrities like Jesy Nelson, who got her “girl power” tattoo from Colledge. Besides, she has done a lot of rib-cage tattoos. Her work spans from nature to abstract line work to sentimental quotes.

Also See: 10 Things Not to Say to Your Tattoo Artist

11. Megan Massacre

Megan Massacre started tattooing in 2004 when she was just 18-years-old. She has been featured on TLC’s America’s Worst Tattoos and NY Ink and Fuse’s Bondi Ink. Megan has authored many books, in which she has detailed her tattooing experiences. Megan co-owns NYC’s Grit and Glory and has tattooed high-profile clients, including Zayn Malik.

12. Brittany Randell

Brittany is a Toronto based illustrator and tattoo artist, her work majorly focuses on the biology of people, nature and animals or even a combination of these things. She is known for tiny scripts and intricate portraits. If you are interested in a tiny tattoo, then Randell is the right person to get it done.

13. Amanda Wachob

Amanda Wachob is a New York City-based tattoo artist. She is known for her innovative and conceptual body artwork. If you’re looking for impressionist-style paintings, just like Van Gogh’s “Starry Night”, then, follow Wachob. Her tattoos look like colorful paintings done on her body. Besides, she also creates abstract tattoo artwork along with more realistic designs.

14. Lisa Orth

Lisa Orth is Los Angeles based tattoo artist, who is known for creating intricate tattoo designs with bold black lines. Majority of her work features picturesque landscapes or other nature-themed designs. She is an outstanding female tattoo artist.

15. Alex Strangler

Alex Strangler is a CA based tattoo artist, who has taken the art to another level. She is known for her artwork world-wide. She owns her own tattoo studio in Studio City, CA. Majority of her work is influenced by pop culture, such as Disney, the Simpsons, South Park, etc. that features aqua, purple, and pink tones most of the time. Her style can be described as Neo-Traditional.

16. Kandace Layne

Kandace Layne is an Atlanta based tattoo artist, who is particularly known for her henna- and mehndi-inspired tattoo designs. Layne has mastered geometric and mandala tattoo designs. Her work looks exceptional and beautiful. If you are looking for intricate artwork, then Layne is the person to contact.

17. Ryan Ashley Malarkey

Ryan Ashley Malarkey is an American tattoo artist and fashion designer. She has made her appearances on the television shows Ink Master and its spin-offs. She has taken a formal training in fashion designing and the same reflects in her tattoos as well. Malarkey specializes in black-and-gray designs with beadwork, lace detail, and ornamental jewels. She became the first woman to win Paramount’s Ink Master in the year 2016. She owns a private studio in NYC, besides she also tattoos at conventions around the world.

18. Sarah Miller

Sarah Miller is a Public Figure, Tattoo artist, and a world traveler, who is currently located in Pittsburg. She was one of the competitors in the hugely popular TV show Ink Master. She entered the tattoo business in the year 2009, and has gained immense popularity for her portraiture. Besides, she specializes in pin-ups as well. She operates from her studio Wyld Chyld Tattoo in Pittsburg, PA. Majority of her work is influenced by the hard-core subjects from Neo-Classical, Romantic, and Art Nouveau periods in France.

19. Mira Mariah

Mira Mariah, better known on Instagram as GirlKnewYork is a Brooklyn based tattoo artist. She has only been tattooing for four years. However, she has garnered quite the following on Instagram in such a small duration. She is popularly known for her whimsical, linear tattoo designs. Mariah’s designs are easily recognizable. She is known for celebrating her disability through tattooing.

20. Tamara Lee

Tamara Lee is Melbourne based tattoo artist, who is renowned for her dot-work. She has been tattooing for nearly 10 years now. Besides doing dot work, she also specializes in geometric and floral pieces. Tamara works at Sacred Gold Tattoo in London and Two Snakes in Hastings. She has earned herself a name in the industry by her flawless symmetry and overlapping tattoo designs. Lee specializes in a stippling technique, the technique of applying ink in small dots for a gradient effect.

21. Grace Neutral

Grace Neutral is a model, television presenter, and hand-poke tattoo artist, currently located in the United Kingdom. She has over half a million followers on her Instagram. She is the presenter of an I-D magazine documentary Beyond Beauty. Neutral entered the tattoo industry as a piercer before hand-poke tattooing, a machine-free tattooing method. She is acclaimed as one of the best hand-poke tattoo artists. Previously she worked with Good Times Tattoo and has also attended the London Tattoo Convention with them in 2014. Currently, Neutral works at her own studio- Femme Fatale Studio in Hackney Wick.

22. Lauren Winzer

Lauren Winzer is an amazing tattoo artist, who is currently located in Sydney, Australia. She is famous for her unique and fun style tats. Lauren has tattooed world-famous celebrities, including Miley Cyrus, Post Malone, and Katy Perry. Lauren is known for her quirky artwork. If you’re looking for a fun throwback tattoo dedicated to your Disney and Nickelodeon favorites, then Lauren is the right choice.

23. Kat Abdy

Kat Abdy London based tattoo artists who works at Cloak and Dagger Tattoos in London, England. Abdy is renowned for her Neo-Traditional tattoo designs that majorly focus on dark and contrasting colors. Majority of her designs are influenced from the Greek Renaissance. Most of her tattoos are larger scale with a lot of detailing and intricacy.

24. Rachel Baldwin

Rachel Baldwin is the UK based tattoo artist, she works at Bold as Brass Tattoo in Liverpool. She describes her style as “girly traditional.” She is famous for cute, colorful animal-based tattoo designs. Besides, Baldwin’s artwork is strongly influenced from the artwork of Disney, as well as classical horror movies like the Shining.

25. Cally-Jo

Cally-Jo is a NYC based tattoo artist. While pursuing her Fine Arts, she experimented with the energetic and bold designs of graffiti and mixed media, which is clearly visible in her tattoo designs. She has mastered pencil drawing at the Winchester School of Art, which reflects in most of her artwork. More often than not, her work features human skulls as the subjects. Cally-Jo is well-known for grayscale tattoos, which involves a lot of shading. Besides skulls, the other subjects that she loves to work on include, hyper-realistic animal portraits.

26. Sasha Unisex

Sasha Unisex is a Russian Tattoo artists. She is one of the best tattooists in the world. Her unique tattooing style has gained popularity around the world and formed the basis of products created under the same brand. Sasha is very well-known for the graphic watercolor tattoo work. That’s what made her so famous across the world.

27. Sara Fabel

Sara Fabel is a Finnish actress, model, illustrator, and tattoo artist. Besides, she is an avid traveler who has spent most of her adulthood traveling the world. She is an outstanding tattoo artist, who is famous for her blackwork, with strong lines and minimal shading. Most of her designs include, horned skeleton or ghoulish zombies etc. She is very active on social media and can be found on most social media handles.

28. Ryan Ashley

Ryan Ashley is a US based tattoo artist, who co-owns the Strange and Unusual Oddities Parlor in PA, along with her husband. Ryan is known for her detailed realistic tattooing style. More often than not, she does freehand tattoos (without sketching a tattoo onto the body). That’s the reason her work always has natural flow and curves of her subject. She is famous for her unique style, which makes the tattoo look unusual and gorgeous.

29. Jess Chen

Jess Chen, the Toronto-based artist has earned both name and fame for herself. Tattooing is more than just a job for Jess Chen. It’s sacred! She is very well-known for her artistic approach and playing with shapes, lines and colors, and making her subjects’ bodies as much a part of the tattoo as the tattoo itself. She is not only known for her minimal tattoos, but also she’s known for her sketchy floral designs.

30. Jessica Downer

Jessica Downer, the California based tattoo artist, who is known for her realistic tattoo designs. Majority of her work spans black-and-gray and realistic horror-themed ink. She is an amazing tattoo artist, who can be found at InkSanity, Lake Elsinore, CA.

31. Rose Hardy

Rose Hardy is from New Zealand, currently she is located NYC. She is famously known as the only woman judge who has been judging Ink Master for the past 11 seasons. Though Hardy specializes in neo-traditional tattoo, her black-and-grey and color realism artwork is equally mesmerizing.

32. Rit Kit Tattoo

Rita “Rit Kit” Zolotukhina, a Ukrainian tattoo artist, who is known for making “botanical fingerprints on the bodies of other brave nature lovers.” She uses natural leaves and flowers as her guide, her tattoos are virtual impressions that capture all the delicate details of nature. She is known for experimenting and pushing the boundaries of the field. She always wanted to move beyond conventional work and that’s what became her inspiration for her “live leaf tattoos”. Majority of her work is inspired by nature and elements of nature. Rita’s life-like tattoos are modeled after her customers began choosing actual plants.

33. Krissy The Butcher

Krissy the butcher is renowned for her intricate grayscale body art. Krissy is a Michicgan based tattoo artist who co-owns her own tattoo studio in Michigan. She is known to create just about any design her clients would ask for! Her designs are super personal, which are mostly Egyptian, Indian, Thai, and African images. So, if you are looking for a gorgeous tattoo design that resonates well with your culture, Krissy is the right person to contact.

34. Whitney Seanor

Whitney Seanor is located in Pittsburg, PA, and is known for amazing portraiture. More often than not, her subjects are Hollywood and film icons, such as Maude, Robin Williams, etc. Besides, she is also known for inking realistic animal and nature themes as well. Most of her work is done in black and white grayscale with occasional splashes of color. Seanor started tattooing in the year 2010, and has earned 1st place awards at the Pittsburgh Meeting of the Marked tattoo convention for her black and grey portraits 2 years in a row, and 1st place Black and Grey portrait at the 2013 Steel City Pittsburgh convention.

35. Moni Marino

Moni Marino, an Italian tattoo artist, who is famous for her photorealistic, colorful style, and black-and-gray Chicano style. She works at her personal studio in Vienna. She started tattooing in Germany, and became so popular there that her German clients make trips to Austria for tattoo appointments. Her favorite subjects include, Venetian masks and portraits of beautiful women. She is an outstanding tattoo artist and can be contacted if you are looking for an intensely expressive tattoo work.

36. Jade Quail

Jade Quail, is California based tattoo artists, who is known for linework and dotwork. Most of her geometrically-inspired work is done in black and gray that boasts a high level of technical skill. Jade’s work spans from beautiful nature to horror-themed portraiture. She works at Inland InkSpot Tattoo Co. in Lake Elsinore, CA.

37. Pony Wave

Pony Wave, a Los Angeles based tattoo artist, who is known for her mind-blowing realistic tattoo designs. More often than not, Pony’s art is influenced by elements from nature. If you are looking for a realistic artwork on your body, then Pony is the one to approach.

38. Whitney Havok

Whitney Havok, a Washington based tattoo artist, who is extremely famous for her versatile artwork. Her work spans the hyper-realistic portraiture. She majorly focuses on Neo-Traditional style of tattooing. She is a wonderful tattoo artist who can be found at Paradox Tattoo in Bonney Lake, Washington.

39. Kat Von Drachenberg

Kat Von Drachenberg, popularly known as Kat Von D, is a Mexican-American tattoo artist, musician, author, model, entrepreneur, and television personality. After starring in Miami Ink and LA Ink, Kat has become the most recognizable artist on television. Besides, Kat has also developed one of the most successful beauty brands under the sun. She is the most followed tattoo artist on social media and has also been on the cover of INKED 5 times.

40. Shanghai Kate Hellenbrand

Shanghai Kate Hellenbrand, often referred to as “America’s Tattoo Godmother”, a title that she deserves for all the good reasons. She has been in the industry for over 40 years now. She began her career as the tattoo artist in the year 1971, when hardly people used to enter this industry. Her dedication to her craft has made her standout in the industry. Hellenbrand was even invited by Norman “Sailor Jerry” Collins to become part of The Council of Seven at the first international tattoo convention in Hawaii. Hellenbrand owns a tattoo studio viz., Shanghai Kate’s Tattoo Parlor in Austin, Texas.

[soyforramen]

Centerfold - Varchie

A bell rang out Veronica’s entrance into the convenience store. It was Tuesday and it had already been a long week with still more to do before the weekend. Pop’s Diner had an image to maintain and unfortunately that required frequent check-ins with franchisees. A few stolen moments to stretch her legs wouldn’t throw off her schedule she decided as she strolled through the aisles full of junk food, energy drinks, and random accoutrements for a long road trip more suited to late 80’s films than the current era of Bluetooth and Bloogle Maps.

As she walked by the magazine rack, filled with the usual celebrity gossip and world ending tabloids a familiar face near the top of the rack jumped out at her. When she peered closer Veronica nearly dropped her coffee in shock. It was impossible to believe; certainly she was on one of those silly prank shows Reggie insisted on watching when it was slow at the bar.

A glance up and down the aisles proved she was the only one in the store, save for the half-asleep clerk behind the register.

Veronica stepped up to the rack and pulled down the magazine in question. It was wrapped with demure brown paper that she inched down for a better look. The face that stared back at her was the same one that she’d known so well in high school. The man that always proved how much he loved her everyday they were together, the same one she knew she’d love forever.

Her blood ran cold at the realization that her own personal angel was now the centerfold in an adult magazine.

It had been ten years since she’d last seen his face and almost five since she’d heard anything about him. And now here he was, plastered on the cover for everyone to see.

The bell above the door rang again and she was tempted to put the magazine back least she be the one on the tabloids tomorrow. She glanced back at Archie’s smile - always so confident in her - and was reminded that she didn’t care who saw her ogling him. It was, after all, 2020. She tucked the copy under her arm and marched up to the register.

The magazine landed with a loud crack on the counter that startled the clerk awake. His eyes, dull as a newborn foal’s, went wide when he recognized who she was.

“Will that be all, Ms. Lodge?” he managed with a stutter. His gaze flew between her and the still wrapped magazine while his hand inched towards his phone on the other side of the register.

She knew he’d be Squeeking about it before the door had a chance to close after her. Let him, she thought. Business needed a bit of a boost before spring.

“That will be all,” she said as she swiped her card through the machine. She glanced at his name card and smiled. “Phil. Have a nice day.”

With a sway to her hips Veronica walked back to her car. She threw the magazine onto the seat next to her and roared out of the parking lot.

It wasn’t until well after midnight that she made it back to the office. The illicit magazine had lain in the bottom of her purse all day and its presence sent a current of heat through her every time she remembered it. Once she was sure she was alone in the office, Veronica set the magazine down on her desk.

The brown paper was a bit tattered, but it was still snug against that body she’d known so well. Archie’s face still smiled up at her with that boyish charm that made her heart turn somersaults. Small lines around his eyes and mouth were proof he hadn’t lost his ability to see the good in life.

If she hadn’t known what the paper wrapper signified Veronica could have kept the pristine image of him frozen in her mind. The memory of him was a secret she shared with no one else and now his body was laid bare to the rest of the world. It was a ridiculous notion, she realized, as neither had been virgins when they’d begun dating. And yet on some level seeing him like this shook her.

It was strangely possessive for a man she hadn’t seen or heard from in almost a decade. He was an adult, free to do whatever he pleased with his body and image.

But it still felt as if someone had ripped away her memory of him and sold it to the highest bidder. She’d never been as affected by any of her other partners as she had since they’d broken up. If ever there was someone could make her nervous it was Archie. Her heart still raced whenever she thought of him.

He’d been the only man in her life who made her want to do better. To be better. Archie had been such a large part of her decision to forge her own path in life. It was because of him that she hadn’t allowed herself to become corrupted like her parents.

Curiosity, however, waited for no woman and Veronica greedily ripped the paper off in one clean strip. Like ripping off a bandaid. Only instead of new skin beneath it was Archie, clad only in low-hung blue jeans. An axe rested against his shoulder and the light gleamed off his skin. The cover was the picture of a rugged outdoorsman, more suited to a romance novel than a nudie mag.

Age had done him quite well, she decided. He was broader across the shoulders than she’d remembered, and he’d put on a bit more muscle. Her fingers traced the lines of his body and it was all too easy to remember how his skin felt under her, how his muscles twitched against her touch.

But there was something off about him standing before her, something she couldn’t place until she turned on her desk lamp. Long gone was the scar on his chest. Its absence tugged at her heart; did he remove it to forget his past, to forget Riverdale, to forget her?

Veronica pushed the thought aside and flipped through the magazine - past the sordid sex tips and beefcake and personal massager ads - desperate to find some blurb about him. Near the middle was a small write up about what Archie looked for in a woman, something she knew first hand, and his various hobbies. There were hints he was single and she couldn’t help the small ember of hope that arose.

She turned the page, hoping for something more only to find out just how much skin Archie Andrews was willing to bare.

It was tasteful, she decided after a few minutes. Or at least as tasteful as a nude photo meant to titillate could be. The spread was on par with the provocative trend of the late 90’s art scene and certainly on par with a suburban fantasy would be. By internet standards it was boring.

Everything that could be deemed offensive was hidden by long shadows that caressed his body. The hard lines of muscle belied the softness in his eyes as Archie looked just past the camera. It wasn’t the nudity that was the focus of the photo. Instead it was his vulnerability that his posture promised and with it a type of sensuality that was rare enough to be shocking in its own way. For this to have been chosen to be the centerfold there would no doubt be many left with fantasies about Archie’s wholesome American smile.

Veronica let her fingers linger over the photo. Her eyes drifted across his body. She let out a gasp when she realized that the mark on his left shoulder wasn’t a shadow, but a small tattoo in the shape of a V. In all likelihood it had nothing to do with her. But it was still enough to send waves of hope and longing through her, displacing her temporary lust. Her fingers lingered over it as she imagined what it would be like to see it in person.

She reached for her phone, her eyes still on the magazine in front of her, and opened up a new voice memo.

“Rachel, cancel my appointments next Friday through the following week. I’ll be in los Angeles during that time and will need a flight and hotel booked. And get in touch with a Mr. Archie Andrews. Give him my contact information and let him know where he can find me.”

As willing as Archie might be to take off his clothes, Veronica would much rather see him with his clothes on. At least until they could take them off in private.

(Cross posted on AO3)

[the-needle-witch]

LOS ANGELES! THE INFERNAL FABULOUS SATANIC PASTEL TATTOOER THE NEEDLE WITCH IS COMING FOR YOU!

I am gonna be In LA from NOV 21-25th 2019, and I'd really like to do some tattoos while I am there! HMU, city of Angels!

$50 non-refundable deposit secures your place in my books and goes toward the total cost of your tattoo! Offering both flash pieces and custom work!

If you are in the greater LOS ANGELES area and have wanted work from me, now is your chance!

You can email me at theneedlewitch @ Gmail dot com or message me on insta @ theneedlewitch to secure your spot!

[f0x-meets-w0lf]

please read (if you have a lil time)

hey my pals, so i never really thought i’d be the type of person to do this, but i’ve mentioned starting up a patreon/ko-fi/paypal link a few times in the past and was met with enthusiasm and support (because y’all are angels). i know that at this point posting on tumblr is basically equivalent to yelling into a dark cavernous void and hoping someone else hears, but... it’s the only place i really have, haha. twitter stresses me tf out and tumblr is all i’ve known for like 10+ years; the great tumblrocalypse can’t deter this ol’ tumblrer.

SO anyway, here’s the deal - being an independent adult in los angeles is expe$$$ive af and my life gets increasingly more insane and stressful as my career continues to grow. it’s an honor and a humbling blessing to be busy, of course, but it has come at a price -- my ability to do much of anything else is very limited, and tattooing is an expensive job. needles and tubes cost a shit ton, ink costs a shit ton, machines cost a shit ton, everything costs a shit ton. and on top of my daily job expenses, i’m in the process of trying to open a private studio, which is def going to save me some money and sanity in the long run, but is also going to cost me a shit ton up front (and always, monthly, forever, lmao).

you might be thinking, hey, don’t tattoo artists make a shit ton of money? shouldn’t it be chill?

in short: no. at least, not me, haha. some artists definitely make a shit ton, and those artists are certainly living cushier lives than most of us. (i’m mainly taking about artists who are well established, well known, ‘insta-famous’ or otherwise famous, etc. -- artists who charge literally thousands of dollars as their minimum for any tattoo, artists who require a $500 deposit just to hold an appointment slot, etc.)

however, one of my biggest efforts that i make as a tattooer is to try to remain accessible to my audience, which is largely made of of young queer people who are crippling under the weight of this expensive city/life/world just like me, haha. i try to keep my prices as fair as possible while also paying myself a living wage AFTER the 50% cut (per tattoo) that my boss takes (this is pretty standard for the tat industry). i barely charge anything for all of the time that i spend researching and sketching for a design before the appointment/tattoo session itself even happens. morally, i don’t want to charge people any more than i personally feel is fair, and learning to value my own art and time has been a bit of a learning curve for me, to say the least, haha. (you know it’s bad once your clients start telling you you’re undercharging. like, who says they want to pay you more money unless they actually mean it?! haha.) but like, morally, i can’t sit here charging people out the ass for tattoos. i want to keep my personal minimum & other pricing as reasonable as i can.

in addition to the everyday costs of being a tattoo artist, i also have lots of life expenses like everyone else, and lately, some of those life expenses have expanded into health-related issues. issues that largely are spanning from my job (bad tendinitis in my wrist, bad back and shoulder pain from constantly hunching and getting into crazy positions to get the right angle for a line, headaches caused by eye strain from starting at small needles vibrating into people’s skin for 8+ hours a day, just to name a few) -- as well as issues that i’ve been trying to ignore because of the recovery time getting in the way of making money at my job (long-overdue wisdom tooth extraction to take out these impacted bbs, chiropractor evaluations/sessions to see how we can fix my effed up spine/neck from a bad car wreck last year, among other things). 

as an independent american artist, i don’t get any free/included benefits; i pay for my heathcare and dental care out of pocket every month, and it costs me several hundred dollars. it would be cool if that wasn’t the case - benefits would be awesome - but i will literally never have a job with heathcare or a 401k, and that’s just a fact of life. it helps a little bit to have insurance, but even still, full costs are never covered, especially the more specific and/or frequent of treatments/doctors’ visits that you require.

SO. all rambles aside, i’m really here to say that i’ve finally started up a ko-fi page. i want to start a patreon so you guys can like, actually GET something for your money, but i know that realistically i don’t have the time to make content for patreon right now, and even if i did, my wrist can’t really keep up with doing any art outside of my work at the moment. (see: bad tendinits. also: part of the reason i’m imploding a little all the time, lmao.)

money stresses have been really weighing on me lately, and i know that $3 here or there doesn’t seem that significant, but honestly, anything helps. i want to be able to keep sharing and creating art for you guys, and would absolutely LOVE to get back into fandom again - if i weren’t so worried about making enough money to survive in LA 24/7, maybe i’d actually be able to scrounge up a little time for that again.

please share with your pals, if you feel obligated, and thank you all so much -- i seriously think you are all amazing, and i appreciate your support in any and every form, whether it’s just reading this post and sharing it or actually throwing $3 at my ko-fi or following my tattoo instagram. you guys are the bee’s knees and i love y’all. for real for real.

[yodawgiherd]

Just a little sting

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Picking up on old storylines can be hard, but it has to be done.

Every story needs to have an end, doesn't it.

:)

 Enjoy!

“Annie!“

“What?“

“Your dad called.“

Annie stepped back from the punching bag she was abusing, throwing a look over her shoulder at Bert standing at the entrance of the gym.

“Again?”, she asked, her voice betraying no emotion.

“He would like to know how you are doing and wants you to call him back when you have the time.”

Looking down, she inspected her glove instead, playing with the strap.

“Tell him I’m busy.”

Bert sighed.

“Is this about the boyfriend thing? Are you still mad about it?”

“I’m not mad about anything, I just don’t want to talk to him at the moment.”

Looking back up, she put a hand on the punching bag, feeling the material.

“It doesn’t matter what happened in the past, I’ll just keep moving forward. This is what matters. This training, this bag, and that tournament I’m going to win. Not for him, or anyone else, but for me.”

She heard him shuffle behind her.

“Fine, I’ll tell him that you are focused on your training. He’ll understand.”

With that, Bert left, leaving Annie alone with the gym once more. Just as she wanted. Dropping back into her fighting stance, she punched the bag, alternating between left and right, feeling the rush of blood in her body. This was what mattered, not the memories and dreams and regrets in her past. She left those behind for a purpose and going back was impossible. Clenching her fists tighter, Annie allowed the rhythm of training to overwhelm her.

“It’s just a sting.”

“Sure, a few thousand of them.”

“Oh, don’t be such a baby.”, Mikasa grinned, reaching over to pat Eren on the cheek, “I’m sure you won’t even feel it.”

He didn’t seem to believe her.

“Now that’s a bare-faced lie if I’ve ever heard one.”, he grimaced, “You may be super tough, with your MMA fighter experience and piercings and the ink on your wrists, but me…”

Their conversation got interrupted, however, as the artist came in, eyeing his customers.

“You guys ready?”, he asked, sitting down next to Eren while his associate, a young woman, took her place next to Mikasa.

He swore under his breath while Mikasa couldn’t stop smiling, seeing how nervous he seemed.

“As we’ll ever be.”, she said, when her boyfriend was unresponsive.

“Let’s get on it then.”, the artist confirmed, nodding at his associate and both picking up their tattoo machines at the same time. “Two pairs of wings, coming right up.”

They got to work.

Sasha did expect a lot of people when she opened the door, but one of those she did not expect was Niccolo, standing there with a cigarette in his mouth and a gloomy look.

“Heard you’ve been looking for me.”, he murmured, looking anywhere but at her face.

Oh? She was looking for him. For the guy who promised to help her only to disappear after searching on his own. Well, who could see that coming, right? Pushing all her anger inside in order not to make a scene, Sasha gestured for him to come in. But when he did sit down, she exploded.

“Where were you? What did you think, disappearing like that? You didn’t tell me anything, I was sick with worry and no one knew where you are and…”

“I found out where Gabi is.”, Niccolo said, cutting her off, “And It’s not pretty.”

When he didn’t continue on his own, Sasha nudged him.

“Come on, where is she?”

He looked at her for a minute, the cigarette smoking at the table between them probably weighed his options. But it was just an act, if he wasn’t willing to tell her, he wouldn’t have come here.

“They use them as mules, in the underground, the kids carry drugs because cops don’t search them very often.”

“That’s insane! We have to do something about that.”

This naïve statement made Niccolo snort.

“Do what? They’ve been doing the same shit for years and no one stopped it. I’m sorry Sasha, but this is no longer just fun and games, this is a serious business. If we poke the hornet’s nest too much they will sting us.”

He stared at the table, obviously discouraged, but Sasha was having none of it.

“Well, I’m not giving up. I don’t care that its dangerous, I’ll see those kids free or…”

“Please don’t say I’ll die trying. This is not a movie, this is real life.”

“Fine, I won’t say it then. But please…”, reaching out Sasha put her hand over his, “Please don’t leave me alone in this.”

Staring at her, Niccolo realized that he couldn’t back down. Fuck it, the cause was just, and he couldn’t remember doing anything heroic in his life. Like ever.

“All right. We can do this, together.”

Sasha nodded, smiling.

“Together.”

“Say, what you’ve been up to lately.”, Hange asked, watching Levi over the rim of her glasses.

“Me? Not much, just helping Mikasa train for that tournament thing.”¨

“Do you feel like she has a shot at winning it?”

“Mikasa can do anything she puts her mind to. After all, I trained the girl myself.”

“And outside of the gym? Any news?”

He put his glass down with a sigh.

“Is this about Petra?”

“I don’t know, is it?”

“Stop turning my own words against me.”

“I’m not turning anything against anyone, my dear.”, voice completely calm, she pointed at him, “However, you are incredibly defensive about her.”

“She is a very old friend, I understand that you are worried, but there’s no reason to. I’ve made up my mind.”

Ok, here comes the part that Levi hated, the part when he has to say feeling stuff out loud.

“I lo-… I mean… I kind of… I li-like you, Hange, there is no one else.”

Oof, that was hard.

“Well good.”, standing up, she stretched, throwing a look at the clock. “You want to go to bed?”

Shrugging her t-shirt over her head, she threw It at the chair carelessly, walking towards the bedroom.

“Maybe you can show me how much you like me.”, she said before disappearing from the view.

Levi was just about to follow her when he noticed the shirt she discarded, picking it up and folding it neatly. There, now he could sleep in peace. With calmness in his mind, he went to join the woman whose company he somewhat enjoyed. Just don’t make him say it out loud.

“We look like two of my patients now.”, Eren said, watching the large bandage wound around his upper back.

Customary process, he knew, both he and Mikasa had to care for their new skin decorations before they would be fully settled in. It was a long process, and they had to be careful, especially with how big their tattoos were, covering the entirety of their upper backs, but they’ve been told what to do, step-by-step at the saloon, and instructed to call if they had any questions. Therefore, Eren was confident, especially after he managed to survive the whole long process of having his back pierced by the tiny needle over and over again in one sitting. Despite Mikasa’s claims that it would be painless, it did sting, but overall it wasn’t that bad, especially when he had her right next to him, getting the same treatment without batting an eye. Couldn’t appear weak in front of his lover, could he?

“It just for a short while.”, Mikasa said, “Just think about how amazing we will look after.”

Her expression turned dreamy.

“Like two angels.”

“You have always been my angel.”, Eren countered, watching her smile.

Yea, she was an angel all right. His angel with tattooed wings.

[pkg4mumtown]

New Man

Summary: See Photo

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, and dumb stuff, female reader

A/N: Big thank you to @abigailredgrave for this request and for being super cool. I had a lot of fun with this and decided to be a bit silly with it. Despite what I've written, I don't hate the song or Ed Sheeran so don't get mad at me lol

When I left Kyle months ago, I expected to be more distraught over the break up. The truth was I was sick and tired of putting up with his bullshit. Still, you don’t stay with someone for six years and walk away entirely unscathed, but here I was. When I met him, he was still getting into the music industry and hadn’t yet been tainted by it. Within a few years, he had completely blown up and that’s when the problems started occurring. He started to frequently come home drunk and high after ridiculous parties, sometimes not even coming home at all. Rumors of him hooking up with random girls surfaced and I tried my best to believe that they were just that; rumors. Meanwhile, I was working at a coffee shop near our apartment and constantly getting hounded by media and fans. I was done. Absolutely done. He wasn’t the same man I fell for anymore, he was so full of himself and obsessed with his image that I felt like I didn’t even know him. So, I left. I packed all my shit, left Los Angeles, and moved to the opposite side of the country to New York.

I was able to snag a job at a coffee shop on the outskirts of downtown, thankful to not have to commute in that clusterfuck. That’s where I met John. He was an easy customer, always ordering the largest Americano we offered and every so often requesting extra shots in it. He visited so frequently that I was able to tell how many shots he required just by the weariness written on his face.

“Today looks like a ‘two extra shots’ kinda day, John,” I had greeted him.

“I can’t argue with that,” he sighed.

“The extra shots are on me today,” I spoke quickly, hoping he would miss it as I tapped on the computer screen.

“I can’t let you do that,” he protested.

“Oops,” I shrugged and sent the total to the card reader.

He chuckled and shook his head, swiping his card. He pursed his lips in thought as he waited for the machine to finish the transaction, “Well, how about I buy you dinner to pay you back?”

“John, two extra shots are worth less than two dollars. So, unless we’re going to McDonald’s, it’ll be a lot more than a repayment.”

“Is that a problem?”

I went silent as I deciphered his words, “Um, what?”

“If me asking you out to dinner is more than a repayment, is that a problem?” he clarified.

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

His face reddened in response, but he nodded, glancing down at his feet briefly. I bit my lip, writing my phone number on his coffee cup before making it.

The date went well because in a couple weeks we were absolutely smitten with one another. He was so genuine, kind, and an all-around sweetheart that I couldn’t help but fall for him. That nearly changed a week later during a trek at the park with Dog.

I took a picture of the three of us together, hoping to brag a little on my social media. I stared the photos I had taken, settling on one and showing it to him. A gentle smile spread across his face as he gazed at the photo with me, pressing a kiss against the side of my head.

“Can I post this, John?” I asked him, admiring the photo with a lovesick smile.

“Post it?” he asked, looking all kinds of lost.

“On Instagram,” I clarified.

“What-a-gram?” he asked slowly. If anything, he looked more lost than before.

After a thorough explanation of Instagram and a scarily quiet John, I waited for his answer nervously. He was older than me and only really used his phone to text or make calls, so I thought I understood his apprehensiveness.

“No,” was his only response.

“Can I ask why?”

“I’d prefer that you didn’t,” he glanced at my crestfallen face and sighed heavily. “But, it has to be said some time.”

I looked up at him questioningly.

“Look, the reason I can’t have my face plastered on the internet with you isn’t because I don’t want you to,” he ran a hand over his face. “It’s for your safety.”

“John…”

“Promise me, that you won’t hate me for what I’m about to tell you,” he pleaded.

“John, what’s going on?”

“Promise me.”

“Okay. I promise.”

“I—I’m an assassin, Y/N. I have a lot of enemies, some who wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you. I also just prefer to not risk the security of a future mission, so I’d like to have very few people know my face.”

I stared at him with my mouth slightly hung open, trying to process what he just told me. It was all so absurd that it felt like a joke, but his face held a deadly calm. I was certain I could tell when he was joking, and this was not one of those times. I felt his hand hesitantly reach out to grab mine, my hand twitched slightly in surprise.

“Please, don’t be scared of me. I just wanted you to know what you’re getting into with me. If this is too much for you, I’ll understand if you want to end this now,” his voice held an air of defeat.

I swallowed thickly, finally meeting his eyes again. I leaned up, pressing a kiss to his cheek and feeling him relax. He maneuvered me, so I was sitting in between his legs, wrapped securely in his arms.  I could feel his heart thundering into my back, as if he was still nervous about what I would say.

“What if I don’t show your face or use your name?” I asked, loosely holding my phone between my fingers and fidgeting with it.

His chest expanded behind me, telling me he took an exceptionally big breath while placing his chin on my shoulder, “Okay.”

“Really?” I asked a bit too hopefully, earning me a soft smile and a kiss to my temple from John.

“Yea,” he murmured, taking the phone from my fingers and opening the camera app.

With his free hand he brought my face closer to his, allowing him to hide his face while he kissed the side of my face. I was so caught off guard, that I laughed at the tickling of his beard against my jaw and completely missed the fact that he took a picture. His chest rumbled with laughter behind me, pressing his body closer as he peppered more kisses across my cheek, the phone long forgotten.

“I adore you,” he whispered blissfully, sliding the phone back into my hands, “Go crazy.”

From there, it became a bit of an obsession to plaster my interactions with this faceless man on my Instagram. I’m pretty sure he regretted telling me to “go crazy” because I would sneak pictures of us or just him whenever I could. My Instagram was flooded with photos of him and the dog, especially one where he decided to lay on John’s face and caused John to sneeze for hours as dog hair got up his nose. I would say I snuck a photo of John laying in bed, half naked, but he caught me immediately. I was careful to not get the large expanse of tattoos on his back in their entirety, as I didn’t know exactly what they meant but edges of the tattoos inevitably made their way in.

Time flew by with John and we had been together for a few months, but I was so happy I couldn’t imagine my life before he walked into it. This particular morning, I felt his arm slip around my waist and bring me close to his warm body.

“Yes, John?” I asked groggily, wondering what was so important that he had to wake me up as early him. His lips brushed across my shoulders and the nape of my neck, causing me to convulse and bury my face in the pillow, “No…,” I whined, trying to wriggle away from him.

He followed my movements, laughing into the skin of my upper back and resting his face there, “Wanna go for a drive today?” he mumbled into my skin.

“Where?” my voice muffled by the pillow.

“Mmm,” his voice vibrated as he thought, “Beach?”

“Sounds good, now let me sleep,” I murmured, closing my eyes in a vain attempt to catch a couple more hours of sleep.

“It’s already seven, hon,” he laughed at my inability to survive on six hours of sleep.

“John,” I groaned at him.

He laughed once more, kissing my shoulder and sliding out of bed, “I’ll get breakfast started.”

The promising smell of coffee and bacon dragged me out of bed, so I could eat with John. After breakfast, we packed any necessary items for the beach and changed. I had to stop and admire John in a t-shirt, board shorts, and sandals as he carried things to the front door. The three of us piled into John’s Mustang and headed toward a nearby beach.

When we first started dating, John confessed to me that he didn’t really listen to music while driving. He knew I did, though, and allowed me to take control of the radio. I usually compromised and kept the music low, so we could talk over it. I fiddled with the tuner, catching the end of a pop song I enjoyed, and John tolerated. The host’s voice came over the speakers right after the song faded out, announcing the release of a new song.

“Up next, we have new music from Kyle Eagan. This one’s called New Man.”

I could almost see John’s ears perk up at the name, knowing exactly who he was from what I had told him.

“Isn’t that…?” He trailed off.

“Yep,” I muttered, moving my hand to change the station.

“Wait! I want to hear it,” he swatted my hand away.

“Why would you want to hear it?” I scoffed.

“Didn’t you hear the title?” he raised an eyebrow at me.

“I don’t know why you want to do this to yourself,” I sighed, turning the song up so we could make out the lyrics.

John’s face immediately turned into a grimace as a bassy, pop beat assaulted his car speakers.

I heard he spent five hundred pounds on jeans Goes to the gym at least six times a week Wears boat shoes with no socks on his feet And I hear he's on a new diet and watches what he eats He's got his eyebrows plucked and his arsehole bleached Owns every single Ministry CD Tribal tattoos and he don't know what it means But I heard he makes you happy, so that's fine by me But still, I'm just keepin' it real Still lookin' at your Instagram and I'll be creepin' a lil' I'll be tryin' not to double tap, from way back 'Cause I know that's where the trouble's at Let me remind you of the days when You used to hold my hand And when we sipped champagne out of cider cans I guess if you were Lois Lane, I wasn't Superman Just a young boy tryin' to be loved So let me give it to ya

I watched an amused smile tug at the corner of John’s mouth as he listened intently to the words. He didn’t feel the strong urge to hunt down Kyle anymore, which I felt was a good thing. He simply wasn’t worth John’s time and energy. So, the song was like one big joke to John.

I don't wanna know about your new man 'Cause if it was meant to be You wouldn't be callin' me up tryin' to 'Cause I'm positive that he don't wanna know about me I don't wanna know about your new man We'll get there eventually I know you're missin' all this kind of love But I'm positive that he don't wanna know about me

Your new man rents a house in the 'burb And wears a man bag on his shoulder, but I call it a purse Every year, he goes to Málaga with all the fellas Drinks beer, but has a six pack, I'm kinda jealous He wears sunglasses indoors, in winter, at nighttime And every time a rap song comes on, he makes a gang sign Says "Chune, bwoydem light up the room!" But enough about him, girl, let's talk about you You were the type of girl who sat beside the water readin' Eatin' a packet of crisps, but you will never find you cheatin' Now you're eatin' kale, hittin' the gym Keepin' up with Kylie and Kim In the back of the club, kissin' a boy that ain't him Okay, you need to be alone And if you wanna talk about it, you can call my phone I just thought I would tell you, 'cause you oughta know You're still a young girl tryin' to be loved So let me give it to ya

I rolled my eyes at the lyrics, crossing my arms and sinking further into the seat of the car. John’s hands gripped the wheel tightly for a split second when it vaguely mentioned cheating, but he relaxed quickly when I placed a hand on the back of his neck.

“Who’re Kylie and Kim?” he murmured over the song.

I snorted out a laugh, covering my mouth as his question was so unexpected. A smile spread over his own face as he caught a glimpse of my smile out of the corner of his eye.

I don't wanna know about your new man 'Cause if it was meant to be You wouldn't be callin' me up tryin' to 'Cause I'm positive that he don't wanna know about me I don't wanna know about your new man We'll get there eventually I know you're missin' all this kind of love But I'm positive that he don't wanna know about me

Baby, I'm not tryin' to ruin your week But you act so differently When you're with him, I know you're lonely Please remember you're still free To make the choice and leave Don't call me up, you need to show me I don't wanna know about your new man 'Cause if it was meant to be You wouldn't be callin' me up tryin' to 'Cause I'm positive that he don't wanna know about me I don't wanna know about your new man We'll get there eventually I know you're missin' all this kind of love But I'm positive that he don't wanna know about me But I'm positive that he don't wanna know about But I'm positive that he don't wanna know about I don't wanna know about your new man

I switched the radio off as the song ended, not wanting to hear anything else after that mess. My mood was entirely changed as I sat simmering in anger, which was unavoidable as soon as the song mentioned “me”. My hand had long abandoned John’s neck, now tucked firmly under my other arm as I crossed my arms.

“Y/N, relax,” John’s voice cut through the silence, bringing his hand to my head and rubbing soothingly. “I know the whole thing was bullshit, okay? I trust you.”

I leaned my head into his touch, nodding in response and releasing a heavy sigh. He dropped his hand from my head, grabbing my hand comfortingly and bringing it to his mouth to kiss the back of my hand. John’s house wasn’t far from the beach, so we arrived a few minutes later. We found a secluded spot, spreading out a large blanket to claim the area and setting everything else on top of it. I plopped down next to him, leaning my head on his shoulder as we watched the dog run around along the edge of the water.

“You know, his voice is really fucking annoying,” John said through a chuckle, causing me to laugh along with him.

“Oh, I know.”

“Are we going to talk about him stalking you on Instagram?” John growled, becoming protective in a split second.

“I honestly didn’t even know, John,” I patted his knee and gazed up at him, a mischievous smile slowly appearing on my face. “But…”

“What?” he asked uncertainly, his mouth wanting to smile involuntarily at the look on my face.

“We could give him something to look at.”

John tilted his head at me, narrowing his eyes in thought, “Lay down on your stomach.”

We rearranged ourselves, so we were both laying on our stomachs next to each other, propped up on our elbows. I stuck my arm out and opened the app, turning my head to look at John, “Kiss me.”

“My face?” he wondered.

“Cover it,” I shrugged.

He thought over possibilities, then licked his lip and nodded when he thought of a suitable one. He leaned into me, kissing me so tenderly that I nearly forgot to take a picture. I didn’t notice his hand move toward the phone or his eye open to guide his hand into place. When I finally remembered to press the capture button, he was already set up. We separated after a few more stolen kisses, immediately bringing the phone to my face to see the photo.

“Jonathan!” I exclaimed, dropping my head and laughing into the blanket. In the photo, covering his face except where his mouth met mine, was a huge middle finger.

“All covered,” he chuckled, kissing my head and standing up to rip is shirt over his head. “Come on!” he called out to me while chasing after the dog.

I shook my head as I watched him run off, hovering my fingers over the keyboard as I decided what to write.

“Trust me, he knows about you and he’s not impressed, bro. #FuckYouKyle #NewMan #AssholeIsNOTbleached #HeKnowsWhatHisTattoosMean #ImSureHesBeenToMalagaBeforeIDK #NoManPurseButHisTacticalBeltIsHotAsFuck #BurbonIsBetterThanBeer #IAteHalfAPackOfBaconThisMorning”

I clicked “post”, tossed my phone in the bag we brought with us, and ran after John and the dog; satisfied with the level of pettiness I put into the caption. I nearly tackled John as I ran into the waist deep water, but he recovered and lifted me easily. His mouth fused to mine as he took us deeper into the water and I knew there was no place I’d rather be. Yea, fuck you, Kyle.

Taglist: @futuristic-imbecile @anita-e-taylor @beyondantares @samanthagraceg @cuttlefishcatfish @gwenebear

[lemoynebraider]

Get to know me tag

I was tagged by @bleudragonfire

Tagging: @cactilads and that’s all because I don’t have friends

Relationship status: sexy free and single, I’m ready to bingo

Top ships: Rhodeytony (mcu), Ineffable husbands (good omens), Charthur and Vandermatthews (RDR)

Last song: Dog days are over by Florence and the machine

Last movie: I have honestly no idea? Last thing I watched was Narcos but that’s tv series

This or that tag

Coffee or tea - I drink tea when I’m sick so if I drink it any other time, it just reminds me of that and makes me feel bleh

Early bird or night owl - I go to sleep late but wake up early because I love suffering

Chocolate or vanilla

Silver or gold - depends on what I’m wearing

Pop or alternative- honestly, I can listen to anything so I don’t think there’s any specif genre I prefer

Freckles or dimples - god, both are beautiful and I have like .. three freckles and one dimple when I do this weird ass creepy smile BUT ANYONE WITH THOSE CAN MARRY ME

Snakes or sharks- both can go fuck themselves

Ivory or scarlet

Flute or lyre

Butterfly or honey bees- bees and any black-yellow insects scare the shit out of me but I do my best to keep them alive when in my presence

Macarons or eclairs - never had eclairs but I googled them and they look good so 10/10 would try

Rooftop or balconies- heights scare me if I’m not secured so probably neither

Typewriter or handwritten letter- if I had a typewriter, I’d definitely use it a lot but there’s also something magical about handwritten letters even though my handwriting is awful

Spicy or mild - I cry when I eat something even remotely spicy.. wish I didn’t because spicy things taste good

London or Paris - London is my favourite city ever

Secret garden or secret library- if it’s like the garden at Florence Welch’s house then hell yeah but otherwise, library is good because less allergies

Potions or spells- both are good and important

Oceans or deserts

Vincent Van Gogh or Claude Monet- as an ex art student, there are many other artists I’d choose but you gotta work with what you have

Denim or leather

Mermaid or siren

Masquerade ball or cocktail party- neither because both would give me very bad anxiety

Sun or moon

Herbs or flowers - herbs for my potions, flowers for my witch cottage decor

Pearls or diamonds- but only minecraft diamonds

Tattoos or piercings

Eyes or lips

Witch or fairy - they’re both so Florence Welch and I love it

Opera or ballet

Clam chowder or tomato soup

All black or pastel - depends on my mood or what I feel like wearing

Perfume or body wash - most perfumes give me a headache

Mountains or fields - I go hiking pretty often

Thunderstorms or lightning

Egyptian or Greek mythology- neither 🤷‍♀️

Beauxbatons or durmstrang - if it’s what google told me, then I chose beauxes because they seemed more fancy (im still getting used to some things being called differently in English than in my mother language)

Candles or fairy lights

Classic art or modern art - I do think modern art is weird as fuck, but it has its magic (plus classic art was modern once so there were times when people felt the same way about it)

Paintings or sculptures - both!! some sculptures are just so amazing but as an ex art student, I appreciate both

Hot or iced - again, depends on what it is

Glitter or matte

Scorpio or cancer - gemini

Silk or lace - I hate both

New York or Los Angeles - never been to neither of those but I hate summer so fuck you la

Anyways, doing this on my phone gave me aneurysm so I’m glad it’s over