#oh fuck it why else do i have these victorian evening gloves

[nellieblybitches]

who the FUCK lets me paint my own nails

[isbus]

The House Of Villains

This is a fanfic for JJBA!

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Everybody lives, A Lot Of Shipping, Comedy/Humor, Human Stands (JoJo), More Tags To be Added,

I decided that moving my stories to here could be a good idea, so here you go!

Prologue + Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 = Story So Far

I’ll post the other two soon enough...

Prologue: Welcome to the Neighborhood

They just moved in. They smiled, talking to each other about how fun this year here will be. The leader of the villainous household stepped out of the crowd a turned to them. "Alright, friends. We have a house to make ours and a new neighborhood to wander about. Now, first things first, introduce yourselves to the families we'll be living around." 

The blonde in a suit walked over with the two pink haired men, one in a cut out sweater the other in a shirt that really revealed him, to the house on their right. The leader and his dark skinned friend stepped towards the first house with the purple haired man following behind. Both the purple haired guy and the leader held umbrellas above them, protecting them from sun rays. All while the remaining three gone into their new home. 

Both parties knocked on their respective doors. 

The door for the left house opened. The person who opened the door was a teen in a hat. He didn't say anything until after looking at all of them, then he sighed. The teen looked back into the house, and shouted. "Gramps! The neighbors are here!" Soon enough a young looking man happily stepped over to the door. 

"Thank you, Jotaro." The teen known as Jotaro grunted in response to the man who responded to Gramps, though not looking the part. "Good morning, neighbors! Who might you fine fellows be?" 

"I'm Dio, this is-" Dio was quickly cut off by the dark skinned guy. 

He cleared his throat. "My name is Enrico Pucci. If you need any assistance with the lord, I may aide you." 

"I'm Kars." The purple haired one smirked. 

"Well, Dio, Enrico, Kars, welcome to the neighborhood! I'm Joseph Joestar and this is the Joestar Residence." A few people passed by but a woman stopped and smiled. "Oh, Holly, this a few of the new neighbors. Like your household, we have quite a few in this house too!" 

"Ohayou gozaimasu! Or as one would say in English, good morning!" 

Soon enough a few younger looking people rushed over to the new family. A boy with a pompadour, a blonde guy, a girl with black and green hair, and that same hat fuck. Why we already despise this Jotaro kid? We're honestly not sure ourselves. He just gives off some vibes that we really don't care for. 

"Buongiorno, new friends. I'm Giorno." The blonde put his hand for Dio to shake. Dio gadly shook it. 

The pompadour kid smiled. "I'm Josuke!" He waved. 

"I'm Jolyne!" The green and black haired chick winked. 

The Joestars that were introduced looked at Jotaro. "Yare yare daze, I'm Jotaro. Welcome to the neighborhood." 

Joseph smirked. "That's everyone. I hope everything goes well this year together." 

- Time Skip Brought to You By: Vampires and Co. next door - 

When they all entered their home, they found a dusty, cobweb-filled, living room. "This is... something else..." The blonde man in the suit's eye twitched, feeling as though him and his cat wouldn't like this. 

"I know Kira, it's a fixer-upper, but isn't it beautiful when looking past the dust and cobwebs? I'd say this house is perfect for us." Dio stared in wonder at the room with the fireplace and Victorian wallpaper. To him it was gorgeous, but to Kira and Pucci, it was something that required a lot of work to fix. 

It's quite a house, but Dio has a point, it's perfect for them. 

"Esidisi? Do you think this house is safe?" The redhead with two black horns asked with a serious facial expression and tone. 

Esidisi, the one with white hair, nodded. "I believe so Santana, it makes me feel safer by the second." Santana tried to relax since his older friend said so.

The lighter blonde in a dark cyan crop top looked at his friend and wondered before asking. "Kars, what might you think about this new home?" 

"Well, Wamuu," Kars paused. Wamuu knew his answer before Kars could even say. "It's perfect." Damn, Wamuu thought he would say the opposite. Though Wamuu thought it couldn't be worse, he knew even if he wanted out, he couldn't. He couldn't leave such a charismatic man and his family. 

The pink haired boy in a purple cut out sweater looked his pink haired friend in the eyes as the man's green eyes pierced his. "Doppio, you're staring... Does that mean you want a kiss?" The pink haired friend smirked. 

Doppio blushed at his previous boss. "Yes, Boss, if I may..." 

"Call me Diavolo..." Doppio closed his eyes when seeing Diavolo close the distance, but opened his eyes when feeling a pair of lips kiss his forehead. Diavolo backed up and smiled. "There you go." Doppio forced a smile and thanked him. 

"Okay lovebirds... let's get to cleaning." Dio said before a cleaning sequence shown as music played in the background. 

(Just imagine the villains dusting, mopping, etc. while listening to something like Maniac by Flashdance) 

- Time Skip Brought to You By: She's a maniac, maniac on the floor... - 

"It's clean at last. Now, Killer Queen, you can come down." The pink cat that was on the shelf dropped down. Kira scratched behind her ear and gave her compliments, earning purrs from the feline. 

Dio smiled to himself. Cats were superior to Dogs so he enjoyed hearing how good the strange-colored cat was. "Well now that it's clean we should bring out our friends and see how much they like it." Dio pulled out a tarot card from his pocket, setting on the freshly swept and mopped floor (Good thing it's dry). 

*Poof* 

Out of the card and yellow smoke came a muscular man with blond hair, a gold tank top, and baggy pants. His belt buckle was shaped like a heart, and on the back of his neck was the words 'The World' tattooed from shoulder to shoulder. 

This Stand, known as The World, raised his eyebrow and stared at Dio. "Would you like to see my room?" Dio asked. 

.

..

...

"Of course." He mumbled with his deep voice. 

Dio smirked. "That's my World." Dio picked up the card and ambled towards the master bedroom. 

When Dio left, Kira put a collar on Killer Queen. Once again... 

*Poof*

The pink smoke cleared and revealed a neko girl with a pink tail, ears, and hair. She wore black everything: heels, shirt, gloves, skirt. Her hair was in twin tails, and her gloves along with her shirt and heels had belts connecting certain parts. "Nya! I can't wait to see your room Kira!" 

Kira put on a smile like a proud dad. Yoshikage took the lead and went up one flight of stairs to his room. Once they entered, you could hear a squeal of approval. 

Pucci took out a disc, put it into a DVD player and (you know the drill).. 

*poof* 

Crawling out of the TV like the girl from the Ring, came a dude in a black collar and mask along with a hoodie and skinny jeans, but you can't forget about his boots or his white hair or even the fake black crown. He took out the disc and gave it to the normal looking man. 

"Let's check out my room, shall we, Whitesnake?" Enrico put his hand out and immediately it was taken by him. They gone up to the room across from Kira. 

*Poof* 

As soon as they went up the stairs Doppio and Diavolo rubbed a gem on a crown and suddenly a redheaded, green eyed, man in a red suit with black criss-crosses, stood up and let the crown fall onto his head. 

"Come on King Crimson!" Doppio smiled. 

"Let's go to our room." Diavolo looked at the King then gone up the stairs to their room. 

Kars, Santana, Esidisi, and Wamuu sighed. "Let's Go." Kars demanded, all walking up two flights of stairs to the attic. 

[chokemedaddyclown]

Funhouse

Pennywise x Reader | Smut Request

Anon Request: Yooo I want Pennywise to furiously dry hump me in a secluded off tent at a carnival, with my legs spread wide as I feel his thick tentacle dick viscously rub against my clit through his clown costume. Could you do a one shot about that? Great blog btw I’m in love!

A/N: So, I tried to make this kinda nasty. I definitely have a kink for tentacle dick Penny now.

The Derry carnival was always your favorite. It was a shame that it was only in town once a year. Tonight was the last night, and you were determined to take in every bit of the atmosphere as you could to hold you over until it came around again. You had already sampled all various foods from vendors, even going on a few rides and getting yourself completely lost in the mirror-house more than a few times. The friends that you had come with had all left out over an hour ago, having had enough of it for the year.

If it was up to you, it'd last all year, but that was just a passing thought. It was getting close to shutting down and only a few people remained around the vicinity as you walked around the place, catching in the last few sights of the bright lights and taking in the cool night air, making the billowy dress that you were wearing flow in the cool autumn air.

As you walked through each of the concessions, some of them already closed, you noticed a tent near the outskirts of the place that you hadn't seen here yet, and you had seen literally everything. Being the ever curious person that you are, headed straight for it. It wasn't a newer looking tent like the rest of them, it was a bit dilapidated to say the least, with a few dimly burning lights inside of it.

You stepped through the flaps of it, trying to keep yourself from sneezing with how dusty they seemed to be as if it was some sort of ancient structure that hadn't been touched in years. You examined the inside of the place, and there were a few stray pictures, a small work desk that had a few items spread across it, and.. Why was everything so damn dusty?

You looked up, eyeing the few pictures that were on the wall. A lot of them pictured a clown, and a man that you could on assume was the clown. They both seemed to have the same sharpened front teeth. One photo showcased what look like a carriage with a huge mural on the side.

"Pennywise The Dancing Clown," you whispered out loud as you read the photo.

You noticed that the carriage had a strong resemblance to the tent that you were standing in now. It was definitely weird to say the least, but you assumed that maybe this was meant to be a small museum of sorts. Perhaps this was a person that had something to do with starting the first carnival in Derry?

Once you had seen just about everything, you started to leave, but before you could, all of the already dim lights in the place burned out at once, leaving you in the complete darkness.

"Shit," you said, having to resort to feeling your way out.

Your hands found the small work desk that you were just looking at, your hands dragged their way across the wood of the table, gathering up plenty of the dust as they did so, until your hands landed in something wet. It was thick to the touch, and you shuddered, letting out a small noise of disgust as you tried to flick whatever it was off of your hands before wiping it down your dress.

"I don't even wanna know," you groaned, still slowly making your way around, trying to find the tent opening.

"You're going the wrong way, y'know," a friendly, but menacing voice called from the darkness.

This made you gasp, your body freezing up instantly as you stood there. You hadn't seen anyone in here when you came in before, nor did anyone speak to you before this. Was it a prank, was it part of the show here?

"Who's that?" You called back, squinting your eyes in the darkness.

Suddenly, you could see a small, yellowing light appear from what looked like a pair of white-gloved hands and it illuminated a large, white face of a clown with a red-tipped nose and two red stripes that went from his red lips up to his eyes. You were more confused than ever as you took a step back from the clown in front of you.

He looked familiar.

"I'm Pennywise The Dancing Clown," the clown said in a cheerful, cracking tone as it's head twitched, making a few unseen bells jingle.

"Oh," you gave a sigh, "Like the pictures. You work here?"

"Nooo," he answered in a sing-song tone.

His eyes began to narrow as if he couldn't focus on any sort of communication. He only stared at you from beneath a prominant brow with piercing blue eyes, and drool gathering on a plump bottom lip.

"Uhh, yeah," you squinted at him. You had this uneasy feeling in your chest as he seemed to stare right through you. You side-stepped, intent on finding the exit. "Well, I'm gonna go, sorry for disturbing you."

"Don't go," a more guttural tone escaped him.

Before you could even begin to find the exit, he was directly in front of you now. How did he even do that? He completely towered over your small frame, even in this complete darkness, that was apparent. One of the small lights in the back of the room began to shed dim light on the back corner of the room again, making it a little more distinguishable to see the place now and to see him. Whatever and whoever he was, was in complete clown attire. Full makeup and a Victorian era-esque silver costume, complete with red trimmings and ruffles.

But that wasn't the focus of your attention for very long. Those piercing blue eyes had turned into a haunting golden color and they were.. glowing? You blinked your eyes hard a few times, trying to make your eyes focus on what you were actually seeing. This all had to be a dream, it just had to be. There was no way there was an almost 7 foot clown standing in front of you with glowing, gold eyes and.. Fangs?!

Your lips parted as you breathed out, watching the clown narrow his eyes at you as he opened his mouth to reveal a row of sharpened fangs in his mouth that were now wet and sloppy with his drool.

"What the fuck," you whispered, backing up as you watched him close the distance between the two of you, a primal growl escaping his throat.

"What's wrong, (Y/N), not having fun with ol' Pennywise?" He growled again, his lips turning upward into a sinister smile.

You could feel your heart race in your chest as your backside his the wooden table again. You breathed heavily as he closed in on you. You were scared, but you felt something else, too. Something that was entirely wrong and immoral as you gazed up as this thing that was clearly not a human-being. You felt an attraction. You bit down into your lip, hoping it'd just get whatever it wanted to do to you out of the way.

He lowered his face to yours, those glowing eyes getting brighter. He opened his mouth wider to only stop midway as his eyes snapped back down to yours as the two of you locked into a fierce staring competition. His eyes narrowed again as he studied you, he seemed to be confused with your demeanor. It was clear that he was very much used to people being in nothing but a sheer panic when they were near him, and rightfully so.

His gloved-hand reached out to wrap around your throat, causing you to yelp as he pushed you back against the table, lowering his head to sniff at you, a few stray drops of cold drool plopping onto your skin made it well up instantly with goosebumps. He growled again as he jerked his head back, putting his face right into yours as you were pulled up onto the table.

You dress rode up further onto your hips, exposing you almost completely. You felt his body and the silky feel of his costume force between your legs as he leaned into you, still staring at you intently.

"You're not afraid" he growled, his lip curling up into that wicked smile again as he gazed at you. He tightened his grip on your throat as he took a breath. "But I can sense something else.."

Truthfully, you weren't afraid now. Especially when he was pressing himself so tightly against your body that your legs were spread wide for him to lean himself against you. You were still trying to decide if it was the best or worst day to not to wear panties with this dress. He was pressed so roughly against you that, whatever was beneath his suit was pressing hard against your sex and every movement sent a jolt of arousal straight to your clit and it made a small moan escape your lips.

You were a complete fucking mess.

"Please," you whined. At this point, you didn't know if you were whining for him to let you go, or if you were whining because you didn't want him to let you go.

He chuckled, pressing his head right up against yours as his tongue slithered from between his lips, dragging it up along your face to leave a trail of saliva in it's wake.

"Desperate and disgusting little human.. I can smell the arousal on you.. I know that you don't want to leave, I know what you crave," he purred in a gravelly tone. "Isn't that right?"

You couldn't speak, you could only look up at him through your lashes, your breathing becoming needy and desperate as you felt the first, shallow roll of his hips against you, making your breath hitch as you felt him hardening under his costume.

"Isn't that right?!" He spat, demanding that you answer his question.

You nodded quickly. "Y-yes."

He growled, snapping his teeth in approval, shaking his head as he slung drool onto your face again, rolling his hips into you again. "Then say IT. Say it for me. Say it for Pennywise. You want to live, don't you? SAY IT."

"I- I am a disgusting human," you croaked out.

If he couldn't bring the fear out of you, he damn sure seemed intent on humiliating you. Which, oddly enough, was also a turn on.

Nothing about you was fearful anymore, in fact, you were almost ashamed at how utterly turned on you were at this point. You could feel just how wet you had become and you already knew that you were leaking onto his costume. You could still feel his length hardening beneath his costume, and it felt huge.

"Good girl," he cooed, thrusting his hips against you a little harder this time.

You moaned, feeling his cock hit your clit again front beneath the suit. It felt as if it was moving beneath the surface, as if it was growing, pulsating, even. It was fairly obvious that that wasn't a human, nor was this a human-like cock, either. God, this whole thing was disgusting, and you knew it was disgusting, but you couldn't help it nor did you care. Here you were getting off inside of an old dank tent to some sort of monster that was set on killing you five minutes ago, and even that turned you on.

It was all wrong on so many levels, but you had never been so fucking turned on in your entire life.

He tightened his grip against your throat, still grinding himself against your sex, making you moan louder and louder with each thrust. He growled in unison with you, his mouth opening to reveal those sharpened fangs again as he lowered his head, biting down into your shoulder as it caused you to scream out in pain. Long, sharp claws wrapped themselves around your waist, digging in as this thing grinded and dry humped against your soaked cunt.

"That's right. Scream for me, pretty little human," he chuckled darkly, slamming his hips into yours. "Beg for me like a good little slut."

You gasped, feeling the pain radiating in your shoulder and your waist, but it only served as fuel for the pleasure that you also felt as this clown rubbed your pussy raw. You had completely soaked through at this point, but what real concern was that anyway?

"Please," you begged, obeying his orders. "Please, don't stop."

He bit down even harder into your shoulder this time, and you screamed again, the tears welling up in eyes as you felt his grip tighten on you again. This was it. You were sure he wasn't going to let you go. He was gonna kill you right here and there.

And the thought of that in itself sent you completely over the edge as you moaned out. One hand reached out to grab as his costume, pulling and ripping at it until you heard something tear off in your hand, and your other hand shot between the two of you as you pressed your fingers into your swollen clit, rubbing feverish circles around it to prolonge the powerful orgasm that washed over your entire body as Pennywise growled and drooled against your skin, still grinding himself against your body.

You breathed hard as your orgasm finally subsided. Pennywise pulled himself away from you, his mouth covered with a mix of saliva and your blood as he met you face-to-face again, his eyes still glowing a wicked golden color as he unhinged his jaw, revealing a whole mouth a throatful of teeth with three distinct lights in the center as he got closer to you. You gasped, closing your eyes to it as you turned your head away, preparing for him to finish you off then and there.

You wait for a few seconds, and a few seconds more. Nothing. Was he fucking with you?

You cracked open one of your eyes, half expecting to see him standing there, still ready to pounce as soon as you let your guard down, but there was no one. You opened them back up to see the room was empty, and all those dim lights from before were finally back on, illuminating the entrance of the tent.

You sighed, but it wasn't necessarily relief . Had you completely fucking lost it? What just happened?

You sat there for a moment, still in shock before you could even begin to move. There was no evidence. The bite marks were gone and all the blood you expected to see turned out to be nothing but red face paint that you had stuck your hand in earlier in the dark.

You gritted your teeth, mildy upset that this had been some sort of hallucination. You sighed again, lowering yourself off of the table. You were so lost in your own head that you hadn't even noticed until then, that you were gripping something extra tightly in your fist. You pulled your hand up to open it, revealing a small bell with red trim around it.

Your eyes widened as you looked at it.

That was on Pennywise's costume.

You looked around the room frantically as you backed out of it, clutching the small bell in your hands. A small smile escaping your lips as you exited the tent, stumbling out of it as you turned to get one last glance inside of it. It had gone pitch black inside of it again, and you could have sworn you saw a faint glow of golden eyes from inside.

You turned on your heel and began to run towards home.

This was one night at the carnival you'd never forget.

[golbrocklovely]

twisted // colby brock - chapter five

A/N: sorry this is bit late but HOLY SHIT DO THINGS CHANGE DURING THIS CHAPTER. I kinda love this chapter because you learn a lot in it. this story is so fun to write because your girl here loves a mystery. anyway lol let me know what you think of the story. I think I might start posting this story every week instead of every other week just because I KNOW after this chapter, yall will want the next one soon. I’ll see yall later ;)

description of the story

taglist: @absolute-randomness-forever , @far-to-many-bands , @itsmoony , @mellissalox

trigger warning: just overall creepy, cursing

word count: 1803

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Colby’s POV

“I can’t believe that mall was a bust.” Sam sighed, running a hang through his hair.

I nodded my head. “Yeah. I thought online people said there was no security. Maybe too many people kept breaking in.”

Sam smirked. “You mean people like us?”

“Ha ha,” I laughed sarcastically. “So, we still planning to leave tomorrow?”

“Yep. Once we get home and eat, we can pack up and be ready. Are we gonna tell Angel that we’re only going to a couple towns over to a different hotel until our plane leaves Tuesday?” He questioned, turning to me.

“I haven’t said anything to her, but I have a feeling she won’t mind. Ever since we filmed last night, I have this gut feeling something’s off about Smitty.” I shook my head, my eyes glaring at the road.

“I think you’re reading into him too much.” Sam disagreed.

“I mean think about it,” I glanced over at Sam, who’s eyes were on me still. “How did it just so happen he was able to come in just as we were hearing all the bangs? Isn’t that a little strange to you?”

“Yeah, I guess. But he’s harmless. If he was gonna do something to us, he would have done it by now.” Sam argued.

“I don’t know, Sam. Something isn’t right about him. That’s why we gotta leave and just stay somewhere else. Find another abandon place to explore and then get the fuck out of Washington on Tuesday.” I grunted.

“That’s the plan.” Sam paused, mumbling to himself as he looked out the window. “I didn’t know there was a cemetery in this town.”

I noticed. “Apparently…”

I gradually lowered the car’s speed, passing by the graveyard slowly. Most of the graves were kept up very well, the names being easy to see. Suddenly, we passed by one that made me abruptly stop the car and pull over.

“What’s wrong?” Sam yelled.

I jumped out of the car and ran over to the fence, hopping over it hastily. I could hear Sam following suit, calling out to me. I stopped at a grave, staring at it.

“Dude, what’s wrong? What are you looking at?” Sam turned his head to the headstone in front of us.

 Agatha Smith

1969 – 1991

Loving Sister, Daughter, Friend

an angel has found its wings to go home

 “Smitty had a sister?” I whispered.

“Who are you?”

We both turned around to see an old man with a shovel in his hand. He was wearing overalls and gardener gloves.

Sam cleared his throat. “Um, we’re… tourist. We’re here for the-”

“Smith Bed and Breakfast. I know, I know. There’s no other reason to come here really. What’s your names?” The man questioned, gazing at the both of us.

“I’m Sam and he’s Colby.” Sam introduced.

The man nodded. “I’m John. Who’s grave are you looking at?”

We moved to the side lightly, showing him. He stepped closer.

A smile almost came to his lips. “Aggie… she really was an angel in this here town.”

“What did she die of? Do you know?” I jumped in.

“I know everything about this town. I’ve lived here my whole life and have buried most of the people here, including her.” He hissed, stumbling slightly.

Sam and I glanced at each other. “How did she die?”

“She was killed in a car crash. Her father was in the car with her. He was the only one that survived.” John admitted, walking away from us.

“What happened to her father? Where is he?” Sam and I followed him.

“According to Smitty, a couple years after she died, he left. He couldn’t handle the grief of losing his daughter. He never returned. He would be about 86 right now, so God knows if he’s alive.” John informed.

“Can you tell us more about Smitty? And the town maybe?” I chimed in again.

John stopped abruptly. “What would you like to know?”

I needed to ask something simple. I didn’t want him getting angry and leaving us unanswered. “Why does Deb bring food to him all the time?”

“She loves him like a son. She was never able to have children of her own. And Aggie used to work at the diner when it first opened.” John chuckled, continuing. “From what I heard Aggie told Deb to watch over Smitty and make sure he was okay. Smitty doesn’t leave his property. Ever.”

“What’s Smitty’s real name?” Sam blurted out.

John paused, and then spoke. “I don’t think I know. He’s always gone by Smitty, even when he was a kid. The only person that called him by his real name was his sister. I think George would know it.”

“George?” We both asked.

“The Sheriff. He usually hangs out at the diner during his dinner break.” John motioned with his hand.

I remembered the police officer, lightly tapping Sam. “We saw him when we first came here. Why would he know it?”

“He used to date Aggie and was with her the night before she died. Afterwards, he shut himself off from the world, and never went back to that house. Didn’t even go to her funeral.” John muttered.

“Does he hate Smitty?” Sam questioned, his face full of worry.

John stared at us. No emotion on his face… almost like he was looking through us.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he thought Smitty was the reason for Aggie’s death.”

~ / / ~

After our conversation with John, we drove off, quickly pulling up to the looming Victorian house in the forest.

I turned off the car. “Dude. Before we go in, I need to be honest with you.”

“What is it?” Sam mumbled.

I exhaled. “I think we need to leave tonight.”

“Colby, I think you’re-” Sam started.

I cut him off. “I don’t care if I’m overreacting. All the shit John told us and you still don’t believe something’s off about Smitty?”

Sam sighed. “Maybe the reason why he’s so weird is because he lost his sister and father when he was young. That would make you act strange around people too.”

I groaned. “But think about it, Sam: John told us that Smitty never leaves the house. Where the fuck did he go last night when we filmed?”

“He said he went to the diner.” Sam uttered unsure.

“Like hell he did!” I exclaimed. “He stayed here, probably in the basement and fucked around with us. I mean, the Ouija board said the letter A was talking to us. Who do you think is that?”

“…Aggie.” He whispered.

“Exactly. Maybe we really talked to her spirit, who the fuck knows. But I don’t want to stay around to find out, that’s for fucking sure.” I hissed, my anxiety reaching its peak.

“Alright. We’ll leave tonight.” He agreed.

We exited the car and went into the house. I could hear rustling coming from the kitchen. We walked in to find Smitty heating up Deb’s stew.

“Oh, hey guys! How are you?” Smitty grinned.

“We’re good, Smitty. Um, we wanted to talk to you about us checking out. We actually have to leave tonight.” I stated.

His face dropped, a dramatic frown coming to his lips. “Oh no. Is something wrong?”

“Yeah. Uhm, family emergency back home. Sam’s girlfriend Kat broke her leg and we need to fly home tonight.” I lied.

Sam nodded his head. “Uh, yeah. She’s in a lot of pain and misses me-all of us, a lot.”

“That’s terrible. Well, I wish her a speedy recovery.” Smitty replied calmly.

“Thank you.” Sam muttered.

Smitty clapped his hands, smiling again. “Before you guys go, why don’t you have some dinner? Angel and I were gonna have some right before you came in.”

“I don’t think we should.” I spoke.

Smitty waved his hand at us, chuckling. “Oh relax. It’s gonna take an hour to get to the airport anyway, you might as well eat before you go.”

I held back my eye roll. “Alright. But we’ll have to eat fast.”

“Hey, no problems here.” Smitty shook his head.

Sam and I went and sat down. I pulled out my phone and texted Angel.

Colby: come down stairs and eat. we have a lot to tell you and we need to leave ASAP.

Smitty came out to the kitchen with two bowls and placed them in front of us. We nodded a ‘thank you’ at him.

“I’ll go upstairs and get Angel, let her know you guys are here.” He said, almost giddy.

Before I could tell him about my text, he left. I turned to Sam. “Does he seem a bit weirder than usual?”

“Yeah. He seems a little too happy. Maybe he knows something’s up.” Sam noted, his voice hushed.

I sighed, aggravated. “Fuck. Let’s just eat fast and go upstairs to pack.”

We sat there taking bites of the soup rapidly. A couple bites in, a bitter taste rose up in my mouth.

I held back a gag. “Does this taste funny to you?”

Sam shook his head. “No.”

I shrugged and ate a couple more bites. Smitty came back into the room, somehow still smiling.

“Angel said she’s just finishing up my book and she’ll be coming shortly.” He informed.

I nodded my head. Taking a couple more bites, I finally looked up at Sam. He was swaying back and forth ever so slightly, and his eyes were glazed over. He looked out of it.

Sam tried to focus his eyes on me as he talked. “I.. don’t feel sooo good. I think I’m gonn-”

Smitty caught Sam before he could fall out of his chair. “Woah there Sam. You okay? Why don’t I help you?”

“Sam? Are you alright?” I asked as Smitty pulled Sam from his chair.

“He’s fine. Just a bit…” Suddenly, Smitty let go of Sam, his body slamming onto the floor. “…tired.”

“Sam!” I jumped up, only to lose my balance. My legs felt like jello, almost completely numb. I crawled over to him. “Sam? Sam, what’s wrong?”

I stared down at Sam, turning him over with all of my strength. His eyes were shut tight. He was out cold. Everything around me started to slow down and blur, like I was plastered. I could barely keep my body upright. My energy was draining.

“Angel?! Angel…” I tried to yell out. My voice barely left my throat.

“She can’t hear you.” Smitty stated, his voice was dark.

“What the fuckk did you dooo?” I slurred up at Smitty. My eyes could barely stay open.

He smirked, turning his head to the side. He leaned down, “Don’t worry. Angel will be fine. I’ll take care of her.”

I felt my arms give out and my eyes roll back into my head, darkness overtaking me.

<< CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 6 >>

[gimmesumsuga]

Here we come a-carolling - a Christmas Yoongi one-shot

Merry Christmas to all my beloved followers.  I wish you all a peaceful day in the company of those you love.  Be well, and love yourselves <3 

Paring: Yoongi x reader

Warnings: Cursing and not a lot else - unless you count tooth-rooting fluff worth a warning!

“Who the fuck is ringing the fucking doorbell at this time of night?”  She always has had a way with words, your roommate, and  you smile fondly to yourself as she continues to curse and turn the air blue. The heat from the oven hits you straight in the face making you blink and recoil.  “Can you get it?”

“Not really, no,” you reply, your mitted hands busy wrestling out a tray full of fresh gingerbread cookies.  It’s taken almost the entire day for you to make a batch that hasn’t burnt or ended up as one giant molten mess, and you’re not about to abandon them now.

“But… I’m in my jammies,” your roommate says, feigning a pout.  Your withering look just makes her grin as the doorbell rings once more.  

“Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

“Fine,” she huffs, stomping off down the hallway and grumbling under her breath with every step.  

You peer back into the oven, inhaling the sweet and spicy smell of ginger with satisfaction.  There’s another row of cookies inside but this batch isn’t quite done yet, and as you move them up a shelf you hear the latch on the front door opening.  Singing soon follows.  

“I saw mommy kissing santa claus-”  What the hell?  Is that…?

“Hey!” your roommate yells as the singing continues, “We have carol singers! Like real life carol singers!”  Seriously?  What is this, Victorian England?   “Come see!”

You make towards the kitchen door with a puzzled frown on your face, only to turn back and grab the still-hot tray of cookies when she hollers at you to bring them along.  She better not be planning to give them all away; they’re not even iced yet.  

“-tucked up in the bedroom fast asleep.”  Holy shit, she really wasn’t kidding.  

Stood on your doorstep are a group of young men who appear to be taking it in turns to sing with varying levels of enthusiasm, rosy cheeked and breath misting in the air.  All are donned in santa hats and wrapped up against the cold with scarves and puffy jackets, and the closer you get the more you realise how good-looking they all are.  

Suddenly you really regret coming to the door; you’ve no make-up on, your hair’s quite likely a mess, and you’re wearing a pretty fetching set of pyjamas - pyjamas that have cuddly penguins printed all over them and white fuzzy buttons.  

“Then I saw mommy tickle santa claus-”   This must be the ring-leader, surely.  He’s stood right at the front with a wide, boxy grin on his face, singing at the top of his lungs in a voice far deeper than you’d expected.  

It takes a lot of effort to close your mouth as you stand there and watch, the heat of the oven tray starting to seep through your gloves to warm your fingers, and as awkward as you feel standing there watching them it can’t compare to how embarrassing it must be for those you can see hiding themselves towards the back of the group.  One of them - he has larger eyes than the rest and a pleasant, boyish face - is looking anywhere but directly at you and your roommate.  When he does accidentally make eye contact he flushes bright red and stumbles during his line, which was a shame, really, considering how lovely his voice sounded.  

Your eyes drift over the rest of the group as they sing, counting as you go; four, five, six.  Oh, and there’s a seventh, stood right at the back half-hidden by the taller red-haired boy stood next to him.  You crane your neck, trying to get a better look now your curiosity has been sufficiently peaked by the brief flash of black hair you’d caught poking out from underneath his santa hat.  

As luck would have it it’s his turn to sing, and the friend next to him is clearly aware of how uncomfortable the black-haired boy is because he seems revel in pushing him forward into the limelight, actually laughing mid-song at the grimace the other makes.  

“Oh what a laugh it would have been,” he sings somewhat flatly, looking down at his feet more than anywhere else, “If daddy had only seen-”  The pretty blonde boy next to him giggles without restraint and earns a glare so fierce that it wipes the smile right off his face.  The aggressors eyes happen to slide over yours on their way back to his feet, and it takes a lot of effort for you not to show a visible reaction to the way they stir you.  They’re dark and piercing - the only feature on his somewhat feline looking face which makes you think he might not be quite as young as he looks.  He’s gorgeous, even with his lovely mouth falling back into a grim line as it does after each and every word.  

You must be blushing or gawking or something - lord, please, don’t let you be drooling - because the black-haired boy suddenly looks up again and directly meets your eyes, narrowing them slightly as if he’s trying to read you.  Is it your imagination, or does his confidence seem to slightly bolster under your appreciative gaze?  

“-Mommy kissing santa claus last night!”  They sing the last line all together, the most enthusiastic of them extending the last note in some kind of big finish, extending out their arms.  One of them even removes their santa hat to swing it around their head, very efficiently distracting you from the deadlocked stare you’d found yourself caught in.  

Your roommate’s laughing merrily next to you, clapping her hands with approval. 

“You guys were awesome, that was so cool!” she gushes, still clapping, and you send them a warm smile to make up for the fact that your hands are full.  

“Thank you,” several of them say all at once, the boy at the front taking a bow, his grin even wider now than it was before.  You can’t quite seem to bring yourself to look back at the heartthrob stood at the end, fearful that he might still be watching you just as intently as he was before. Fearful, and yet strangely hopeful too. Damn it, why can’t you be subtle for once in your life?  

“Take some cookies guys,” you offer, extending out the tray with a friendly smile.  It’s comical really, the way their eyes seem to simultaneously widen, hands eagerly extending.  “Careful, they’re still hot.”  

“Yah, these smell so good!”  one of them exclaims loudly, immediately taking a bite and then having to keep his mouth open as he chews as punishment for not heeding your warning about their freshness.  The rest of them grab enthusiastically, some taking more than just one with grateful smiles, murmuring thanks and approvals.  

They’re gone so fast that you hadn’t even realised you were running out until you’re stood facing the black-haired boy with nothing but a woefully empty tray.  

“You can have one of mine if you want, Yoongi-hyung,” the blonde next to offers sweetly, but ‘Yoongi’ is too busy inspecting the blush on your cheeks with a slight tilt of his head too hear him, his lips quirking into a barely-there smirk that only serves to make your face burn hotter.

“There’s more in the oven that are almost done,” your roommate chirps up from next to you, “You can always come in and wait if you want?”  

Yoongi’s eyes widen, as do yours.  

“He can?” you ask dumbly.  She sends you smile that would look sweet if it weren’t for the sly little glint in her eye.  Apparently Yoongi wasn’t the only one who’d noticed your blush - you’re never going to hear the end of this.  

“I suppose,” he answers in a slow, deep drawl that pulls your gaze back his way.  You’re acutely aware of the way your heart is now fluttering excitedly at the sheer prospect of spending more time with this dark-haired beauty, and you hope it’s not as obvious to him as it is to you.  

“Want us to wait with you hyung?”  the redhead offers, but Yoongi just shakes his head.  

“You go on without me,” he encourages, looking secretly pleased to have valid excuse to escape further embarrassment.  

“He’ll be alright, we don’t bite,” your roommate interjects, flashing a wink at the only bespectacled one of the group who also happens to be the tallest.  He’s totally her type, right down to the way he baulks and blushes under her rapt attention.  

The boys say their goodbyes to Yoongi who promises to find them all again later, and then your roommate is ushering him inside and showing him into the living room.  She sits him down and unwraps his scarf from his neck with an inappropriate amount of familiarity that Yoongi thankfully seems to find amusing, chuckling as she offers him eggnog and then presumes a ‘yes’ even though he’s yet to say a word.  You can only watch from the living room doorway, stood there like a moron with the cookie tray still in your hands until you roommate bustles you back into the kitchen, giving Yoongi a moment’s peace.   

“How cute is he?” she hisses excitedly, pushing the door almost closed, “How cute were all of them?”  

“Yeah… no… he’s alright,” you answer non-committedly as you put down the now cool tray on the counter, aware of how unconvincing you sound.  Removing your gloves, you wipe away the clamminess born of nerves that has collected on your palms all within the last few minutes.  

“Please,” she scoffs as she pours a glass of eggnog straight from the fridge, “I saw you.  You’re totally ready to jingle his bells.”  You practically choke on your own saliva, letting out a bark of a laugh that you quickly try to smother.  

“You’re disgusting.”  She thrusts the eggnog into your hands.  

“I am,” she agrees shamelessly, “Now get in there and woo that boy until he agrees to give your stocking a good stuffing.  God knows you need it.”  You look at her with a mix of incredulity and disgust, an expression which makes you raise one eyebrow threateningly at you.  “If you don’t go I’ll make more sexy christmas puns.  I could go on all night.”  Somehow, you don’t doubt it.

“Fine.”  You poke out your tongue playfully, glaring hard before turning your back on her and heading back towards the living room.  Embarrassingly enough you actually have to psych yourself up a little before stepping through the door, knowing that you’re basically signing up for at least a good fifteen minutes of awkward small talk with someone who’s so attractive that it actually borders on being indecent - at least in your mind, anyway.

“One eggnog.”  You force yourself to speak confidently as you approach Yoongi, glass extended in your hand, and on hearing your voice he looks up from his phone with his lips slightly parted, blinking.  

“Thanks.”  He takes the glass with an awkward smile, one that you return as you sit yourself nervously on the other end of the sofa.  He takes a sip of his eggnog to break the silence that follows and as he swallows you try not to fixate too much on the way his Adam’s apple bobs tantalisingly.  He smacks his lips, looking around the room. “It looks like Christmas threw up in here,” he comments after a moment, and you don’t disagree.  

Your roommate has always been big on Christmas, and this year is no exception.  There’s tinsel wrapped around every possible surface, lights hanging from each and every ledge, and in the bay window there’s a seven foot christmas tree which is far too big to be considered in any way practical.  On its branches hang gaudy baubles, flashing lights and even more tinsel, all topped off with a rather sinister looking angel.  It’s hideous, there’s no doubt about it, but it’s still home, and even though you may complain each and every Christmas it’s worth it for the gleeful look on your friend’s face.  

“No offense,” Yoongi adds a second later, hoping you won’t have taken exception to his previous statement.  

“None taken,” you chuckle, drawing your legs up onto the sofa and folding them underneath you, “She tends to go a little overboard during the festive season.  I tell her it’s endearing but...”  Yoongi laughs huskily, his bottom lip pressed to the rim of his glass.  God, that really shouldn’t be so sexy.  “I would’ve baked more cookies if I’d have known people would be carolling.”  

“People don’t, usually.”  He grimaces slightly and rests his glass on the arm of the sofa, his index finger sliding up and down the condensation beading on its exterior.  Yoongi’s hands are… well, put it this way; veiny hands have never been a kink of yours before but they certainly seem to be right now.  “I tried telling them that no one does that shit except for in the movies but did they listen?”  His eyebrows rise whilst he takes another sip of eggnog, his dark eyes fixed on yours.  

The longer he looks at you the easier it’s becoming to bare, much to your pleasure, though your heart is still pounding just as rapidly as it was before.  It’s thumping so hard that you half expect to look down and see it protruding rhymically out of your chest like a cartoon character.

“I don’t know, I think it was kind of nice,” you say after clearing your throat, fighting against your naturally shy impulses.  Considering that small talk isn’t exactly your forte this is actually going pretty well - so far.  “Like having a little bit of christmas cheer delivered right to your door.”  Yoongi smirks at you, though his expression is fond rather than mocking.

“You sound just like Tae.”  

“Was the one right at the front?  Looked like he’d had one too many candy canes?”  

“That’s the one,” Yoongi laughs.  His eggnog is rapidly depleting, an attractive flush starting to colour his cheeks and the base of his throat.  Is he a little bit of a lightweight, perhaps?  The prospect of his inhibitions being ever so slightly lowered makes you feel just that little bit braver, and when you change your position on the sofa to sit cross-legged you might subconsciously move just an inch or two closer to the boy sat at the other end.  

“Have you got far to go to get back home?”  you ask.  You can hear your roommate crashing and banging around in the kitchen so you know the next batch of cookies must not be too far away, along with Yoongi’s inevitable departure.  

“Nah, we only live down at number 12,” Yoongi replies, and you find yourself wondering how on earth you’ve never seen him around before; a thought you voice all too eagerly.

“How come I’ve never bumped into you guys if you live so close?”

“Maybe you have.”

“Oh, no,” you quickly disagree, shaking your head, “I’d remember if I’d seen you before, trust me.”  Yoongi’s smirk reappears, his head cocking to the side playfully.

“You would, would you?”  Oh god, did you really just say that? Wouldn’t it be nice if you could make the ground just swallow you up on command?  It sure would be handy right now.

Luckily your roommate choses that precise moment to enter the room, a full tray of cookies in hand.  

“Get ‘em while they’re hot!” she exclaims, a big beaming smile stretching across her face as Yoongi’s smirk simultaneously disappears, sobered by her presence.  She brings them over, sending a probing look your way that you willfully ignore.  She’ll quiz you about every second of this once he’s gone, you’ve no doubt.  

“Thanks,” Yoongi murmurs, flashing her a quick smile as she stands directly in front of him, rocking slightly on her heels.  He can’t pick one up right away; they’re so hot that he has touch and let the same cookie go at least three or four times before he finally takes it.  

“Enjoy!” Your roommate scuttles back out of the room without another word and honestly?  You’re glad of the opportunity to get to spend a little more time alone.  You’re not sure what it is about Yoongi, but something makes you feel both on edge and at ease all at the same time; like he’s an old friend for whom you’re suddenly feeling more.  

Yoongi’s phone rings out loudly, vibrating in his pocket.

“The guys are nagging me to catch up with them.”  Is that a hint of regret you can hear in his voice?  

“Oh, ok,” you say, trying to hide the disappointment you feel but only succeeding in raising your voice to a pitch that surely only dogs can hear.  “I’ll see you out.”  

The two of you rise in unison, and as you walk Yoongi back out into the hallway you suddenly realise that he’s yet to take a single bite of his cookie.  In fact, once you’re stood by the front door you notice him stash it in his coat pocket before he wrapping his scarf neatly round his slender neck.

“Saving that for later?” you ask teasingly, gesturing towards the hidden cookie with a nod of your head.  

“Hm?” He follows your eyeline down to his pocket and then looks back up with a soft chuckle and a rub of his neck.  “Oh… uh, I don’t actually like sweet stuff all that much.”  He doesn’t?

“You don’t?”  His cheeks flush a little again, and you don’t think it hasn’t anything to do with the alcohol this time.  “Then why’d you come in?”  He looks up from the floor, his smile so soft that it does something funny to your stomach.  It flips and flop, both exciting and nauseating at the same time.

“It seemed like an offer that I couldn’t refuse,” he answers quietly and oop, there goes your stomach again.  What the hell is that supposed to mean?  Did he feel that instant spark that you did too?  

You’ve been too preoccupied with staring at Yoongi like an idiot, trying to figure out the meaning behind his words, when you suddenly notice that he’s staring at something at the ceiling, his eyebrow cocked inquisitively.  You look up too, shocked to find mistletoe hanging between the two of your heads, and when you look back to Yoongi you find him already staring back at you, the corner of his mouth turned up into yet another little smirk.  

“Is that what I think it is?” he asks, and in his eyes you see something that looks almost like a challenge.  

“Jesus, sorry, my roommate must’ve put it there,” you gush, words tumbling out of your mouth so fast that you practically stumble over them, your cheeks ablaze.  “She’s such a dork, honestly, I’m so sorry.  She’d ship anyone.”  Yoongi just keeps on looking at you, as silent as he is sexy, and after a couple of seconds pass you see his eyes flicker down to your lips before they return to your eyes.  You swear his pupils just dilated, and just that small gesture alone makes all the hairs on the back of your neck on end with excitement.  

“‘Tis the season, I suppose.”  Yoongi says the words softly and on the move, closing the space between you in a single step as he watches you closely for any signs of hesitation.  One of his delicate hands gently wraps around your forearm as he leans in, staring at your lips again, and he gives you a second - just one second - to move away in this isn’t something you want, and in that moment you swear you’ve forgotten how to breathe, caught up in staring at the way his black bangs are falling prettily into his eyes.  

He kisses you, lips pressed firmly against your own, and though you’re sure it only lasts a second you swear it actually feels like ten or twenty more, so breathless are you when it ends.  You can taste the rum from the eggnog he drank lingering on your mouth as he pulls away, and when he notices the way you’re licking your lips Yoongi smiles in satisfaction, slowly releasing your arm.  

“It was good to meet you….” he trails off, quirking an eyebrow as he does so, and suddenly you realise that in this whole time you’ve never actually managed to tell him your name.  Yoongi kissed you, and he doesn’t even know your name.  

You stumble to get it out, voice noticeably husky, and when Yoongi repeats it you’re embarrassed by the shudder of excitement that works its way down your spine at how delicious it sounds.

His phone goes off again, effectively breaking the moment, and as he checks the screen you busy yourself with unlocking and opening the door, trying to collect yourself in hopes that you’ll be able to string at least one or two coherent sentences together.  You have to say something.  You can’t just kiss this gorgeous guy and then let him walk out of here never knowing if you’ll see each other again; you’ll regret it every day of your life if you do.   

“Hey, um,” you manage to choke out as he’s stepping through the door.  Yoongi turns back, looking at you curiously and dare you say… somewhat hopeful? “So… my roommate was telling me about this Christmas market that’s in town for the weekend.”  

You can’t quite look at him whilst you’re saying all of this, and you wish that Yoongi knew you’d better so he’d be able to appreciate just what a big deal it is that you’re doing this.  

“It sounds god awful but… maybe if you wanna check it out?  You could come pick me up maybe… Saturday? Seven-ish?”   

Yoongi pauses, saying nothing, and for one brief, horrifying moment you think that he’s going to turn you down - or worse, laugh at you.  But then he smiles a smile so bright and genuine that it makes you feel as though your heart has leapt up into your throat, so thrilled are you by the sight of pink gums and eyes that crinkle sweetly at the corners.

“Sure.  Sounds great,” he confirms with a nod of his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets and giving his shoulders an adorable little shrug.  

“Merry Christmas, Yoongi,” you smile as he starts off down your path, looking back at you as he goes.  

“Merry Christmas.”  

[doctormctiddy]

My Fair Lady. - 01.

An Arcana Modern AU Thing...... that’s kinda in development.

Ta daaaa!! I’ve had this idea in my brain for a while now, and I’m finally getting around to posting it. Unsurprisingly, this is another Gloria/Julian fic..... buT NOW WITH MORE CHARACTERS!! The plot and background and what have you is being developed as we speak.

Also, as of note, this is half inspired by @greybat‘s wonderful fanfiction, Fire & Leeches. Go read it!! The other half is inspired by the soundtrack to The Great Gatsby and PostModern Jukebox, lmao. So much jazz...

Also, shoutout to my babe David Bowie and his song Life on Mars, which kickstarted the whole fic.

Stay tuned for updates!

Staged shows like this weren’t really Julian’s typical haunt. But with the Rowdy Raven undergoing repairs at the moment, he’d shown up at the first one that had caught his eye. It was styled after the old Victorian music halls, or even some kind of cabaret, with tables, a bar, and a small stage featuring live music. The Fair Lady. It wasn’t a very imposing title, but you can’t always judge something by its appearances.

Especially in his case- six foot four, eyepatch, mussed up ginger hair. People were easily afraid of him, and why wouldn’t they be? After that nonsense with Lucio, some years prior… he swigged back his drink. Definitely not the time to brood on that affair. The Doctor frowned, leaning his chin on his hands, eye glued to the stage. He didn’t mind a show, really, though karaoke was more of his style. It was proving to be an interesting night already.

As he watched, unblinking, a small, stocky woman dressed in a typical flapper costume took the stage, silencing the musicians from their jazz number with a wave of one black-gloved hand. With a clearing of her throat into the microphone, she spoke:

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to The Fair Lady, Vesuvia’s only replicated Victorian Music Hall! I’m Miss Liverstone, your hostess. But I’m not the real reason you’re all here.” She winks, and Julian cocks an eyebrow, listening to the patrons mumble around him. Liverstone spreads her arms out to the side, and with a large, toothy grin, says, “Welcome to the stage, the Fair Lady herself, Miss Gloria!”

Julian’s visible eye widens as the woman takes the stage. A long, sparkling white dress trails behind her, reminiscent of a wedding gown, a sash of black fur adorning her bare shoulders. Her brown hair is pulled into a braided bun, and she wears a mask of black and white glitter with feathers protruding from the top of it. Her arms are in black, opera length gloves- another flapper-esque costume; some Victorian music hall this was.

She’s beautiful, comes the intruding thought before he shoves it away. The absolute last thing he needed was getting a crush on some random singer at a bar, a bar that he would probably never return to, once the Raven was fixed up.

She turns her head to nod at the pianist, and they strike a chord before she opens her mouth to sing- and Julian feels his face flush red.

“It's a God-awful small affair, to the girl with the mousy hair. But her mummy is yelling no, and her daddy has told her to go…”

It’s a Bowie song, he recognizes. Julian had always been a small fan of Bowie, with his strange glam-rock style and poetic lyrics… not that he’d ever tell anyone that he’d picked up the taste of that from his ex.

She continues the song in a typical flapper fashion, with sudden arm movements, dramatic head nods, the whole nine yards, but her voice is something else entirely- in contrast to her outfit and body movement, and especially in contrast to the genre of the song, it’s near operatic sounding. Julian finds himself transfixed on the stage as she performs, drowning out the whistles and cheers from the patrons of the Lady.

“As they ask her to focus on sailors fighting in the dance hall! Oh man, look at those cavemen go! It's the freakiest show! Take a look at the lawman, beating up the wrong guy! Oh man, wonder if he'll ever know, he's in the best selling show. Is there life on Mars?”

His gaze never falters from her, bathed in the small stage lights, singing her heart and soul out into the audience like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was a sight, Julian knew, that he would never forget.

She receives a standing ovation from the patrons, Julian included, at the end. Claps and cheers and whistles follow the final chord of the song as she bows deeply at the waist, grinning. The pianist and bassist behind her strike up their jazzy background music again, and Liverstone takes the stage, wrapping her arm around Gloria’s waist.

“Thank you kindly!” She calls out amidst the cheering, and Gloria grins, putting a hand over her mouth. They head off, and Julian sits back down, finishing off the last of his drink, the sounds of the pleased audience chattering loudly behind him. A sly smile tugs at the edge of his lips as he hears them talk, crossing his legs and letting his mind drift.

Julian wasn’t a needy man, necessarily. It was said the last thing he needed was getting a crush on some random singer at a bar, but regardless, he couldn’t stop the faint blush that crept across his cheeks and the tiniest of smiles the flitters to life on his face when he thought back to her singing.

The sudden crash that followed snapped him out of his thoughts.

Julian flips his head immediately, seeing Gloria herself, thrown against a table by another man, who seemed obviously drunk. The skirt of her dress was torn by splintered wood, and Miss Liverstone was being held back by some of his buddies.

“C’mon sweetie,” he drawls, “take off the mask an’ lemme see ya pretty face.”

The Doctor rises immediately, ready to fend off the beastly man- and stops when he sees Gloria ball up her fist, landing a punch square in the drunkard’s jaw.

“Piss off, ya fucker!” She snarls as he stumbles back into the wall. Miss Liverstone gasps at the vulgarity, and Julian’s mouth gapes. The man wipes at his face, scowling, and the singer holds her ground, almost defiantly, before the man takes a running charge, and she leaps out of the way, watching him fall over the small railing and hit the floor below. Patrons clamor and some laugh at the display as the man sputters and fumes up at the Fair Lady, who only smirks.

The drunkard attempts to scramble to his feet, and that’s when Julian makes his move, placing a boot on the side of his face.

“The lady said no,” he says, and Gloria stares at him, shocked. “Some gentleman you are.”

The man growls, “Oi, fuck off, pretty boy!”

“Such vulgar language in front of a lady, too.”

“Hey, she used it first-”

The Doctor frowns, rolling his visible eye. “If I must be fair, you’re the one that caused her to do so. Now… do I need to teach you a lesson, or are you going to leave?”

The man spits on the floor, until Julian lets him up, and with a snap of gnarled fingers, the men release Liverstone and stumble out, fearfully eyeing Julian as they do so. The hall sputters to life again as the audience claps and cheers at their courageous display.

Gloria and Julian meet eyes again, and he bows, a gentle smile on his face, and she returns it with a curtsy before Liverstone drags her off, rambling about her vulgarity and ruined outfit.

[occupyscifi]

Chaff

"hey, I don't mind adverts" said Shellay Smithson as she casually vaped from the e-meth pipe. It was Friday night at the Junior Hedonists Ball and all the perma-terns were there drinking their weekly salary "I just don't like adverts that try to sell me things I actually want" "yeah, too right" said Sampson, ur bald androgynous  head bobbing in time to the music ee was streaming direct to ur ears. For her part Shellay preferred to hear the house tunes, old fashioned style. Though the Junior Hedonists Ball tended to have a very specific aesthetic it took place in the nearest pub to the office. The pub itself was an ancient looking glazed brick building, its interior ripped out to satisfy certain steampunk machine gothic tastes. That the entire building had been standing for less time than Shellay had been working in social media relations didn't matter. The city around her changed so much and so quickly Shellay barely noticed even when whole streets and neighbourhoods vanished. Once upon a time fashion had merely been about clothes and hairstyles. Now with largescale 3d printing meaning that the average time to build an entire street could be measured in days whole neighbourhoods came and went according to the whims of fashion. Shellay could still remember last season’s look- Bauhaus glam with a hint of gay seventies New York. Not her favourite style, but she was clearly in a minority. Even so she knew she only needed to go across the river to the parklands to drink up the whole Victorian glasshouse vibe. She could never get enough of Crystal Palaces with their ornate manmade flower displays. She wondered idly if it was still there, but then a glance in her smartglasses told her the truth. Day pass to the new arboretum extension for half price. Just the thing to take her latest fella on the weekend. That grated, made her feel cheap. What was the point in doing anything if it was given straight to you? Everyone knew the best things in life were what you earned for yourself. "I'm getting sick of getting what I want" continued Sampson, ur delicate eyes narrowing "maybe it’s time to start getting what I don't want" "no, but seriously. It’s really pissing me off” said Shellay, knowing that Sampson was just quoting the lines from a song. Probably one ee'd written as well. All artists were self referential but Sampson found it hard to be anything else "it just, well, it just sucks the fun out of life. I'd like things to be a little random, know what I mean?" she took a hit on the pipe and looked around the lounge of the junior hedonists ball. Several dozen long thin creatives lounged at different fey angles. On the walls adverts that were linked to her smartglasses told her of her favourite bands and when they'd be in town "I used to like being surprised by getting ads for shit I'd never ever want" "life insurance" said Sampson with a grin "or incontinence pants. Seeing hundreds of ads on the tube trying to sell me bank products I could never afford. I used to like that" ee looked nostalgically into the middle distance "knowing that it didn't matter how little money I had, because I certainly wasn't going to spend it on any of that crap" ee sighed "now I find myself reaching into my pocket all the time because as soon as there's a new line of grungesynths in at Hypersound or if they start reissuing genuine vintage Konverse I know about it, like, point 9 seconds later. I'm just one click away from bankruptcy" "yeah, it’s killing me too" agreed Shellay, leaning back against the black crushed velvet furnishings. She noticed that there was a link on the wall for a new hypermodernist night club on the New Kent Road. One she had been wanting to go to for weeks but her bank balance hadn't been healthy enough "I mean, for fucks sake, how do they always know?" "S'your line of work love" said Sampson, taking a deep draught of ur snakebite and black "all algorithms isn't it? Way we learned it at school every time you do a search, every time you buy something or even look too long at an ad it gets recorded. Ol' google and FB and the rest keep a big bloody list so advertisers can build a virtual model of what you like and what you hate so they can make sure your eyeballs only ever see good old high value content" "huh. Well I guess you paid attention at school more than me" said Shellay, sipping her red wine "besides, I do apps. I design little programs that make life easier for people. Algorithms and all that are big level stuff. Not my cup of tea at all" "well maybe you should design an app" said Sampson, eyeing an ad for the sort of casual cuddle encounter that ee craved on those long lonely weekends "you know, like an adblocker, but instead of showing nothing it lets in ads people don't want to buy. Same difference I guess, but at least someone sees the ads" "yeah, I like that” said shellay idly "but don't they still have the death penalty for ad blocking software?" "nah" said Samspon "just life with no WIFI" “you’re right. That’s probably worse”

The idea should have joined the other half drunk, half stoned conversations between Sampson and Shellay- posted to social media and then forgotten about. But for some reason it didn't, not least because several days later Shellay saw some market research that confirmed that it wasn't just her and Sampson that were getting pissed off at getting all they wanted. Shellay read through it thoughtfully and got designing. "I mean, it wouldn't be too hard to do, would it?" she asked Jackie Oh, her legal advisor and chief coder. They were sitting in Regents park, in a popup coffee place resembling a Mongol Yurt – one seemingly designed by Alexander Hemingway "we don't even have to use adblocker, we can rip off some of that old TOR code, right?" "no one's used TOR in years" said Jackie "it’s like a red rag to the software gods" she nodded up at the holy trinity up on the wall- Google, Apple and Facebook "because for them if they don't know who you are then they don't have a business model. If you aren't a trackable node then they can't sell your data. And without that they've got nothing" "well, that isn't really what I want to do" said Shellay "it’s really the opposite. I want to send out false data, you know get the app to do random searches for things so you get ads for tampons if you're a bloke or whatever. The advertisers shouldn't notice because it’s not like you're blocking the ads, if anything technically you should be seeing even more of them" "I guess it can be done” said Jackie, scratching her head. The open plan coffee yurt in the park was a focal point for the sort of popup office in which Shellay like to do business "but why? I mean, who the fuck wants to see ads for things they don't want to buy?" "you'd be surprised" said Shellay "there's always a niche in the market, and besides as soon as people get what they want then they usually want the opposite straight away. That's a law of human nature. I mean that's why Hindr was so successful. Who'd have thought a dating app that matched you with the most unsuitable person ever would be so popular? It's like half of my married friends met on there" “Huh, I suppose" said Jackie, stretching her fingers in the imitation gauze contact gloves that allowed her to manipulate the code she spent her life immersed in "but, you know, just in case it's not. I'm still getting paid. Right?" "this will work" said Shellay, sketching out the design of the app already. She'd make sure that the interface showed a melange of ads that people didn't usually see anymore. She paused for a moment to think about the name. Something short and punchy. Well, that would come last. You always knew a good name when you heard it, and sometimes a rubbish name was even better. So long as it stuck in your head it didn’t matter. "chaff" said Jackie after a few minutes, a statement so out of the blue that Shellay almost spilled hr cup of magic mushroom tea. It didn't help of course that the shrooms were coming along a little stronger than planned. Her own fault for ordering the grande instead of the regular. "the fuck?" "its what the code was for. Back in the day. The TOR code" sighed Jackie, wondering why people didn't just have the auto explain on their smartglasses enabled at all times. It had certainly helped her navigate the minefields of social interaction. Now she was so socially adept she could detect irony so long as it was made fairly obvious "it’s a military thing. Best way apparently if you're in a jet plane and someone locks a missile onto you. Well, you can't outrun it and you probably can't shoot it down because it’s too small. Instead what the jet would do was let out a bunch of little silver bits of paper that would confuse the targeting system of the missile. Meant that instead of detonating against the jet they'd just blow up in the air" "what's this got to do with my software?" asked Shellay, wondering whether the shrooms were making this impossible to understand or whether Jackie was just babbling shit. "it’s what the TOR code did. False positives. Means that the missile- you know, Google or whoever – can't get a lock on you because the software performs random searches in your name. Added into that the software can access your cam and fuck with the eye recognition. Meaning you can pretend that you've spent ages looking at this or that ad. It'll totally fuck the tracking software. They won't know who you are or what you want" "cool" said Shellay "people get tired of their own personality anyway. They like to have someone else for a while. There's a reason people used to check into hotels using a false name" as she spoke she selfied, a quick kooky shot of her on the beanbag, evidence of her creativity around her. A few drawing pencils to make it look like she designed her apps the old fashioned way. This she then uploaded to the dozen or so social media sites on which she carefully curated her public persona "its nice to be anonymous for a change" "right" said Jackie, eyeing her own feed as it suddenly became dominated by chatter about the new app that Shellay was working on. As she watched Shellay carefully massaged into life several twitterbots and zombie accounts who would speculate wildly on the new idea she had "I'm sure you do. Anyway, at least you can use that for the name" "eh?" asked Shellay, slightly distracted "chaff" said Jackie, idly surfing in her e-glasses through great DNA ribbons of code, cutting and repasting them together into a new pattern as demanded by Shellay "S' what you can call the app" "genius" said Shellay, her eyes half closing as she looked at the light filtering into the yurt from outside. It made such pretty patterns on the inside of her eyelids.

Shellay didn't have many dealings with the police, what with her being a moderately wealthy middle class white woman coupled with the almost complete eradication of poor people from entering the city. So when the not very plainclothes man and woman grabbed her on the way back to her apartment some days later Shellay immediately texted her lawyer. "what’s the trouble officer?" she asked, then instantly regretted it. Using the word trouble suggested that she had a guilty conscience "how can I help you?" "oh, we're not with the police" said the male “you could have fooled me” said Shellay “what with the whole earpiece things you’ve got going on and the fact you’re both obviously wearing bulletproof vests. You couldn’t be more obviously in security if you were wearing a uniform” "we’re from an independent agency" said the female, her smile all sharp teeth and no humour. "one that dabbles in your chosen economic sphere" echoed the man "I'm not sure what that means" said Shellay baffled "are you the app police?" "no" said the female "but we represent some large advertising concerns. They aren't happy with your app" "why not?" asked Shellay “people still look at the adverts. So they get paid either way. What difference does it make to them?" "oh, it makes none. In fact they don't really give a shit. If they did, well, we'd probably be beating the crap out of you. They just wanted you to know that it’ll probably cause something of a shit storm" "why?" asked shellay "look at it this way" said the female "everything we do in society is based on market research. The sort of market research that comes from using ad revenues and pageviews. If enough people buy your app then it’s going to get seriously skewed because we won't know what people actually want" "you exaggerate" said shellay "all that's going to happen is a few people are gonna download my app, go 'huh, fun' for about ten seconds. Then they'll go onto something else. That’s what apps are about. It’s not something life changing, is it?" "lets hope not" said the female humourlessly "otherwise we'll be back, and we won't be so friendly"

"…and raise our glasses to Shellay, who made this event possible by making a fuck load of cash this week" Sampson raised ur glass and saluted the group of friends and hangers on who had filled the Junior Delinquents ball. The app had been out two weeks and so far had beaten even the most optimistic estimates, even those made by the most obvious of Shellay's sock puppets. "hey, it was nothing" said Shellay modestly, placing her lace gloved hand against her chest "and by that I mean I actually worked really fucking hard. And usually that means nothing. So its ace that people actually bothered to download this app" she saluted with her glass "Cheers guys" she added, and drained the glass in one. The evening would on as expected, Shellay prowled the room, making sure to flirt with anything and everything with two functioning legs. Eventually she found herself pressed against an earnest young researcher from a local bespoke search company. Rather like the bespoke tailors of years gone by his company specialised in finding all the things that google couldn't. The name that were too common to give a unique google search, the information redacted for copyright or decency reasons. If it existed and was worth looking for, it was reasoned, then someone was probably trying to hide it from you. Bespoke search meant you always found what you were looking for. "sounds fascinating" Shellay had yawned. She had a low threshold for earnest people. They always made the world sound so difficult. Full of hard moral choices when in reality everything was equally compromised, so you may as well have a good time. "well, we can't all do what you do" said the boy, and Shellay glared at him, one eye pressed closed so she could see whether he was being sarcastic or not through all the booze she'd drunk. "I'm serious" the boy added, his face blushing slightly "I think its genius. And so subtle. The big software boys don't seem to have twigged yet. By the time they do they'll be up shit creek and no mistake" "what d'you mean?” said Shellay, unsure whether the boy knew he was talking to. "chaff" said the boy, helpfully reminding her "its genius, pitched perfectly to take in both the retro market of people who remember when adverts weren't all micro targeted to our specific desires and to people like me who get the real deal" "real deal?" said Shellay weakly, the room was starting to spin and she was feeling suddenly rather sloshed. "that it's going to fuck capitalism up royally" beamed the boy "you got their weak spot. Without accurate information they can't know what we want. If they don't know what we want then they can't give us what we want. If they can't give us what we want then we'll rebel and take it ourselves. Its genius. Absolute bloody genius" "yeah. Yeah I meant that" said Shellay, leaning into the boy and putting an arm around his tweed encased shoulder "we should discuss this further. Perhaps somewhere quieter" But if they did discuss it Shellay didn't remember. When she woke up in the boy’s bed all she could recall was how he had pleasured her in the back of a self driving pedicab. They'd been riding through the new Manga district that had just been built and she'd orgasmed to the sight of a giant mecha Pikachu shooting past. Its jetsteam had been like rainbows, and if the boy had still been discussing the overthrow of the capitalist system she certainly wasn't listening.

The first time that Shellay noticed something was wrong was when she wanted to visit Regents Park. She was hankering for a grande Shroom latte and Jackie had wanted to go over some updates. The Chaff app was still selling well, and selling well enough to make sure that there were now about twenty knockoffs floating around. Shellay had cheerfully launched legal challenges in the hope of being bought off in order to add to her revenue stream. All in all life was going rather well, or it was until she noticed what had happened to the park. "what the fuck" said Shellay "oh yeah" said Jackie who had shared the uber with her "yeah, they changed it. I guess it just wasn't popular anymore" "what?" said Shellay, pointing at the vast block of buildings that had replaced one of her favourite haunts "and this is?" "well, I guess people like modernism again" Jackie replied, looking at the cold brutalist features of the blocks of buildings. They were the colour of London sky, and the windows were small and mean looking "I suppose we could hope that its going to get resprayed by graffiti artists or something. You know this grey block look really offsets electric pink…." "no such luck" said Shellay with a sigh, she had brought up the plans on the googlemaps app which tracked the ever changing city as it emerged from the great collective unconscious of the millions that lived there "its just going to stay like this. Why the fuck? I can't think anyone would like this" Jackie folded her arms "really, you don't know?" "trust me, apart from a few architecture perverts I can't think of anyone" "Maybe your app is having an effect already" "no way" said Shellay "come on, its random. It shouldn't have any effect on the data that goes into the great google-lord. There are filters and stuff" "clearly they aren't working" said Jackie, peeking at the planned developments on the drawing board for the next six months "and I can't see a single new district I'd actually like to live in. World of leather sounds so much more exciting than it really is" "seriously?" said Shellay, scrolling in horror through what the city would look like in a few mere weeks time. All the fashion chains she had loved to hate, the trashbarn where you could get an entire new wardrobe for a quid, all of them were being demolished in favour of entertainments that barely deserved the name. Museums of stamp collecting. Monuments to great engineers past and present. Massage parlours for the elderly. Who the fuck would want to visit that? "you think our app is doing this?" "I can't think of anything else that would" said Jackie "not unless the people of this city have a sudden stiffy for a district made of glass dogs, or one built to resemble the bombed out London streets of the blitz" "that last one sounds fun" said Shellay hopefully "no, its very realistic" said Jackie "right down to the dead bodies and the potholes in the road. And the rationing. I saw it this morning. It was trending on WTFF news" "shit. Maybe it is us" said Shellay, blinking in surprise "fuck, maybe we did do this. We broke the world with our app. And if we broke the world with randomness…." she turned to Jackie with shining eyes "just imagine what we could do if we planned it" "way ahead of you boss" said Jackie, tapping away in the empty air "I can change the code so we can get anything we want. You fancy having a district based on that crappy kids show you loved?" "hey, Round the Twist was ace" said Shellay irately "and yes, yes I do" "then its just a matter of…." Began Jackie and then trailed off, the smile draining from her face "what is it?" asked Shellay "can't we alter the code? We put it there, so we should be able to" "you didn't tell me you did this" said Jackie, looking at Shellay accusingly. "do what?" asked Shellay, suddenly confused "I've been locked out" said Jackie "specifically you’ve  locked me out. Is it because you've found another coder? Because if it is can I just tell you that…." "what other coder? What are you talking about?" asked shellay "I haven't done anything with the code. I'm a designer. I do concepts and colours. Numbers is your domain" "well somehow you locked me out” said Jackie irately "and so I can't do anything till you let me back in" "oh for fucks sake" said Shellay "clearly there's been some kind of mistake" she pulled on her smartglasses and brought up the interface for her app "I'll reset the admin privileges so you can get back in there. And hurry, I want to start fucking with the city. I’ve always wanted to shape something using just the power of my psyche" But it would be easier said than done. Passwords were entered only to be rejected. Appeals to the higher name of security scans, iris and thumb print were likewise rejected. "someone's hacked you" said Jackie plainly "they've changed your access codes. You better just hope they're doing it to extort money, because if they've twigged how powerful Chaff can be then we are in deep shit" Jackie looked closely at Shellay "so is there anyone you suspect could have done this? Have you shared any intimate moments recently?" "just one" said Shellay "but he was such a sweet guy. All he went on about was…." She trailed off, recalling the boy who'd gone on about the end of capitalism. The swirl of pink mist where her memories should be "that bloody bastard" she cursed "he's hacked me. He's going to bring about the end of capitalism, using my fucking app" she stared about her at the city, recoiling with horror as she imagined the blasphemies that the errant code would create. She imagined whole districts devoted to living examples of Marxist theory, roads that were named after obscure soviet thinkers “oh christ” she said, looking at Jackie in terror “I think we broke the world”