#this is only sinking in holy shit that was an actually genuinely dangerous what the fuck

[starpros-sunshine]

School got evacuated and it smells like gas what is happening this year

[teddybeartoji]

Okiee friend roommie gojo takes you on a motorcycle at midnight to random places like the riverside or some food stall or whatever. Especially when you aren't feeling good (my current mood <3). There's less to no people at night, which is perfect!... Taking a walk with him. Orrr simply sitting on his motorcycle and chatting with him while he stands front to you.. ykwim😭

HELLOO????? HOW DOES IT FEEL TO HAVE A MASSIVE BRAIN, HMM????? THAT'S SO DELICIOUS????? see, i don't think i would've really even considered roomie!gojo owning a fuCKING MOTORCYCLE???? YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH THANK YOU FOR THAT MY LOVELY

btw you guys literally have matching helmets!!!!! he immediately bought one seeing how excited you got after seeing the bike. not to be a basic bitch but how fucking sexy is a white and blue bike?????? my eyes just rolled back into my head holy shit. anyway. matching helmets matching helmets matching helmets!!!! i think he'd love the ones that have the ears on them too lmao he's a little cutie. he also bought you your own racing jacket too!!!!!!!!! i mean he has the money so he didn't even blink an eye at the thought of buying you your own gear bc like... he would never even think about having you on the bike without atleast a helmet!!!! he's not a reckless driver at all and i genuinely don't think he'd speed at all (maybe only a little on highways and only when there isn't a lot of ppl)(he would rather die than to put you in danger like that)

and he'd 100000000000000% go on late night drives with you!!!! he sees you moping and his heart sinks:((((( at first he just tries to ask about it but when you're still looking so out of it, he offers the drive. he helps you put on the helmet and then gently headbutts you after putting his on. he loves the way your eyes smile through the small glass opening and he just already feels a bit better, a bit prouder to have made you smile.

he offers you his hand as you're taking a seat behind him and he always gets so giddy when your arms circle around him. he loves it, he really does. he waits for you to get comfortable and rest your head against his back before even turning on the engine.

you have a code that whenever you want to say something, you squeeze his thighs. when you need to stop, like stop stop, you slap his thigh. he made that rule and he didn't even let you onto the bike before making you repeat it three times for like the first five times. he doesn't play around, i'm telling you. sometimes, you like to tease him for it, for being a pussy but he isn't fazed at all. he just smiles at you and calls you his precious cargo.

okay, so i like the idea of him taking you somewhere extra quiet - maybe you even already have your spot, too? maybe a more hidden part the riverside, somewhere it's certain that you'll be alone. he parks the bike and ofc offers you his hand when you start climbing off. he smooths your hair after you pull the helmet off, making a quiet like jokes about you looking fucking insane and no matter how stupid his comments and jokes are, he always gets a laugh out of you. even if it's the smallleeeest teeniest tiniest little smile.

he takes your hand and tugs you to the lonely little food stall. the person who's managing it has seen the two of you so many times and they're fully convinced that you guys are a couple btw. gojo always pays. ALWAYS. he literally gets upset when you try. sometimes at home he whines about always paying but when you actually get to the paying part he just pushes you away??????? smh he's an idiot but he's OUR idiot.

he let's you eat before asking about your day again. he let's you rant his ears off if that's what you decide to do. he leans against the motorcycle as you pace back and forth in front of him and he's so invested!!!! no matter whether it's work drama, uni drama, some sort of friendship drama or something more personal - he's all ears. he tries to crack a few jokes here and there but he keeps it low as he's gauging your emotions. yk if you're laughing a bit more, he turns the joke machine up a notch but if not... he just let's you talk it out.

btw if you're not in a talking mood at all, he probably does the talking himself to try and distract you from whatever is bothering you. he's telling you about the new parts he wants to put on his bike, he's telling you about his day, about the people he saw on the streets, about the new comic he's reading etc etc etc. he probably invites you to rest against his chest as he does so, faintly swaying back and forth. he watches the streetlamps reflect on your skin as you rest your eyes, breathing in his cologne.

and after a while he offers to go back home. he tells you that he can take the long way or the short one, whichever suits you best. it could be 3am and he wouldn't dare rush you. he is prepared to do anything to make you feel better!!!!!!!!!!! he's such a good roomie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[vat-jou-goed-en-trek]

Upset rant ahead

Idk if it's just me but a lot of the decisions lo'ak makes come off as unnecessarily reckless and selfish and "poor me I'm so alone and no one understands".

He refuses to listen and gets his siblings into increasingly dangerous situations and only when finally one of them dies does he seem to learn, though that's to be seen, maybe in the next movie he won't be such a dumbfuck.

I'm an older sibling, we have had some bad fights, we have also grown up in very stressful, possibly abusive situations but we would never so consistently put ourselves or each other in the direct line of conflict and possible harms way.

But the whole lot of them do? and even bring their youngest sibling with them? what the actual fuck!? Why??

I genuinely don't see how them doing stupid shit and getting caught by the RDA, doesn't sink into their heads that it's dangerous out there and they could get killed.

Both neteyam and lo'ak have been near and in the conflict, kiri has obviously seen and helped the injured who made it back, so why the fuck does it seem like they're treating the whole war like a game where they have infinite resets.

Yes, you can trust that your parents will come and get you, but holy shit you nearly lost your life and you are going to keep jumping straight into the path of danger?

What if jake and neytiri hadn't made it in time or what if they just killed all of the children instead of baiting them? Of course this wouldn't have happened because it never does in movies, but it is a real life scenario for them how do they not learn anything from it???

[hanakogames]

Just to add, I absolutely have seen stories about improvising things to get genuine reactions out of male actors as well. actually, not usually improv so much as ‘it was planned among other people on set and the actor didn’t know what was going on’ - but PLANNED. Carefully! And not for, you know, dangerous stunts! It’s usually been things like ‘told him something much sadder than he’d seen in the script’ or ‘showed him a picture of a wacky dildo’. Little gags that might shake things up a bit, but do not put people (or expensive objects, we’re looking at you Edward James Olmos) in danger. 

And the big problem with doing the “genuine surprise” take is that you only get one shot that way, and a scene is rarely perfect on the first take! I’ve read up on SEVERAL “surprise” takes that went wrong (Allegedly the pirate ship was kept hidden from the Goonies kids until they were first filmed entering the cave, hoping to get genuine surprise and awe, but what they actually got was the kids saying “Holy fucking shit!” and then couldn’t use it.) 

So once you’ve done the surprise take, if it didn’t work out, you have to fall back on acting anyway.

(Of course, some of the surprise takes are later takes when it had already been tried several times and hadn’t come out quite right, so *that’s* why they come up with a plan to, you know, paste in a wobbly dildo or whatever) 

But there’s a huge difference between slightly screwing around a little bit to get a different facial expression and smashing up glass at somebody. There probably are a few people doing dangerous stunts on male actors as well, those just aren’t the ones that came to my mind first and I really don’t want to sink into rereading the whole TVTropes entry right now.

[spinningbuster98]

We finally start Salazar's Castle! And this is where things start getting spicy!

I wouldn't call RE4 the hardest game ever by any means, but it is absolutely a game that is not afraid of throwing everything and the kitchen sink at you, and the Castle makes it very clear from the get go

The biggest difference from the Village is that your typical Ganado villagers have been replaced by Ganado Cultists and these guys are way more dangerous

They behave mostly the same, but they deal more damage, are sturdier, some can rock wooden shield to defend themselves, none of them throw dynamite but now they have archers that can snipe you from long distances, and some of these guys even wear helmets to protect their heads so no more headshots for them!

But to me the biggest threat are the Plagas that sometimes burst out of their heads: unlike the Type 1 Plagas with their long tentacles that were already pretty deadly, but these Type 2 Plagas can instakill you by biting Leon's head off! If one of them spawns make it priority number 1!

These guys are also way creepier for me, mainly due to their voices. RE4's sound design is somewhat underappreciated I find, because these guys' voices, along with the game's OST, can go a long way in unnerving the shit out of you. Their voices are more demonic, more inhuman sounding than the villagers', and there's nothing worse than hearing you taunting you while you're being chased around. (though in true RE4 fashion, if you know a bit of spanish, what they're saying is actually really corny. They're literally muttering "Brains...brains...brains...." or "To die is to live..." half the time)

All of this comes to an incredible climax at the end of this Chapter

The one part of the game that every RE4 player fears

The Water Hall

This is an absolutely GARGANTUAN room with an army of cultists! Way more than in any previous circumstance!

You're not safe anywhere you go: out in the open you'll get sniped and flagged from multiple angles, inside the narrow passages you can get easily trapped. The objective is to reach a room on the opposite side and activate two switches which will in turn activate another switch in the middle of the Water Hall that will unlock the final part of it

My strategy is to bait the enemies into said room so that you can bottleneck them, but this won't work on all of them, as you'll have no choice but to go out in the open for some of them

Did I also mention that you have to protect Ashley during all of this? Probably the only part of the game where even I'd say that protecting her gets genuinely treaturous

And during the final section you have to play sniper to protect her while she pulls some levels while also defending yourself at the same time.

Fortunately the two sections have a checkpoint inbetween but holy smokes! Talk about a difficulty spike! This might just be the hardest part of the whole game! I don't blame the Remake for toning it down a bit!

I have conflicting thoughts on it overall

On the one hand it is way too hard for being only at the halfway point of the game

On the other it's a perfect example of how RE4 can create tension and fear through its action gameplay mixed with its sound design and creepy ost. Do consider that while all of this transpires you'll be listening to this lovely melody and the cultists' demonic voiced taunting you while they chase you around. You won't be able to tell that they're following you because of how the camera works but you'll sure as shit be able to hear them!

I honestly find this one area to be way more tense than any Nemesis encounter from RE3 (the original), which is not to shit on good ol' Nemmy!

To relieve ourselves from that fun party, the Merchant presents us with a new activity: a shooting range!

It's pretty simple and completely optional, but I recommend completing each challange that gets added as the game progresses. You get awarded with little character modles, and with each row you complete you're also rewarded with a big payout in cash

Oh and Ashley gets captured! Thank God finally a bit of breathing room!

[ronearoundblindly]

What if reader is older than Steve, like...10 years maybe(?) She could see his shyness, ambitious and gentle when they first meet. She never thot Steve would fell for her because of their age gap and she's insecure about herself...

Or the soft dark one...

Goddess!reader could cure Steve's illness and let him could join the military, but the price is he need to remain his virgin.

And if he break the rules...

what kind of "punishment" you think reader would do to him?😌😌💖💖💖

oh. my. god.

thots. n;dsdfieronviriv. THOTS. ndviniusniuelrhbvoer. THOTS. nzkdvuheiunruvps;dn;irfiunrfu.

Holy shit, bae. Here I am, minding my own business, writing some angst and romance, and you hit me with this glory. Gurl, WAT???

Super-Human Resources (Posted separately. Here, enjoy this cool 1k of softdark!smut from a gn!god!reader)

Warnings for zero editing, not overly-explicit filth, marginally subby!steve/bratty!steve, extreme orgasm denial, and FYI, I'm still going to hell.

Beg For My Mercy

He was so desperate that he didn’t think it through. The trade seemed so simple: health for sex. If he were strong, all these weakening maladies stripped away, he could help win a war. He could save so many lives. How could that possibly be only as valuable as forgoing sex? Why should Steve Rogers care about sex? He’s never cared about it before. The trade is genuinely too good to be true. It’s so easy, and he takes it.

And he gets everything he wants. He’s strong. He wins wars. He saves people—unfathomable numbers of people—and then it gets…complicated.

Steve gets attention. He gets accolades and commendations, awards and offers, including some other offers. They’re so easy to brush off at first. After decades, it gets a lot harder. He finds someone attractive, and then he has to stunt the relationship before anything escalates. Since he can’t explain why, they always distance from Steve afterward. He doesn’t blame them. He is starting to crack.

Steve skirts the edges of the rules. He tries to get away with as much as possible that doesn’t count as losing his virginity, which is a surprising amount actually, and that also works for quite a while. He’s just not satisfied. It feels too good to rub his aching cock along that precipice of danger, and he can’t resist.

And then he sees you.

No one else can see you smirking at him standing naked and sweaty above his temptation. His eyes are alight with fear and bone-crushing desire.

“There’s a price if you do this, Stevie,” you say, sweet like honey, thick like the honey can drown him.

He thinks, but Steve thinks with the wrong head and sinks into a tight and overwhelming heat. Fuck, how did he live so long without this?!

So he’s satisfied for a while that night. His partner gets taken care of, coming multiple times, and…Steve doesn’t. He can’t. Eventually, he has to make some excuse to get his date to leave because his dick hurts. He's still rock hard and dying to come.

He can still see you, the entity lurking in shadowy corners, that smirk still on your face, and so he thinks he understands. He can find the loophole.

Up until now, he could masturbate all he wanted; it’s not penetrative sex, so it should work. He takes himself in hand and tries everything that feels good. He can’t get there. His balls are so full and swollen that he’s crying. His skin is raw when he finally lets go. Steve's so tormented by this pressure cooker of need unable to explode inside him that he growls and pummels the pillows and mattress beneath him.

“Please,” he screams, burying his blotchy red face in the sheets. “Please HELP ME.”

The squeaking bed springs snap under his strong punches, and he crashes to the ground, desperately yelling for release until his words are incoherent.

You step forward, eyes softer with sympathy, and Steve looks hopeful, so hopeful for your aid.

“Are you ill, dear?” Your coo rips a whimper from his throat and a tear from his eye.

He can’t even touch his shaft anymore, so Steve clamps a death grip on his inner thigh and prays the pain shifts him beyond the horny wretch he’s become.

“It hurts,” he gasps. “Please.”

“But you didn’t keep your promise. You cannot follow directions, Steve Rogers. Why should I help you?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I needed—“ he cuts himself off in a moan when he watches your eyes drop down to his lap and stay there “—I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he repeats in whispers.

You get closer and closer with each pathetic hiss of apology. The flush of pain and denied pleasure rages hot under the skin of his entire body, but this is what you wanted all along. You’ve been patient. Now he’s right where you want him.

“Are you going to do what I say?”

“Yes,” Steve groans, low and hungry.

“Do you promise?”

“Yes—oooh god.”

You lean down to his ear, knowing only he can feel the featherlight wisps of your touch along his arm. His heart stops in anticipation.

“Come.”

He’s fucked in mind, body, and spirit instantly, spurting into the air as if gravity’s gone from around him. It hurts in the most euphoric way. He can’t handle the ecstasy and devastation colliding at once. Steve finishes untouched and collapses to the broken bed. He grabs the sheets surrounding him and bites down because it’s not stopping. He’s wrung dry for what feels like hours, all the while feeling nothing but the cool air of the room around him. From the grey edges of his vision, he nearly passes out, his throat hoarse from shrieking out with each tensed pulse of orgasm. It’s the best worst experience, and he won’t recover from it in his long, long lifetime.

His heaving breaths slow as you continue to watch him, hovering above his glorious body, enjoying the wreckage to full effect. Once he’s composed enough to unhide his face, eyes still unfocused and glassy, you drag a gentle hand down his chest, and he shivers violently.

It’s finally time to tell Steve what he’s sold his soul for, what he owes you in return for this kindness, what the price for your pity is.

“You will never come again without my permission.” Your soothing, sweet tone rakes dangerously over his spent body. “Never. Not once. I will be here every time, and you, Stevie, will have to beg for my mercy.”

and whoops, I completely forgot to say thank you for the love! 🥺💚🥰 You're too kind to me, bebe.

More on my Masterlist, and if you enjoyed this, please consider liking and/or reblogging! It's like getting a hug every time 🤗

[mvttsvn]

Good Little, Liar

Literal sadist😳Toji Fushiguro x bratty fem!reader

warnings: 18+ smut, ABSOLUTE FILTH,  cussing, reader is a masochist, dacryphilia, manhandling, choking, pain kink, daddy kink, impact play, degrading pet names “whore, slut”, use of “princess”, Toji threatens to kill you like once👩🏻‍🦯, no prep, mentions of blood, stomach bulge, size kink, mind break, dumbification, no aftercare :/, angsty at the end.

authors note: 2k words, UNEDITED holy fuck this was supposed to be a short drabble but I got carried away. this is completely self indulgent, it so nasty literally how did I even think of this??? I cannot get this shitty ass dad out of my head... literally just ib this one pic🤒

You convinced him alright. Convinced him so much that he whole heartedly believed he picked up and took home a totally different person tonight. You and Toji and been together a couple of times prior, nothing too serious, went out for a drink, maybe kissed, probably rode him in his backseat. Each and every time you put on your good girl façade, always so sweet, and submissive. Following his each every command. Taking exactly what he gives and thanking him for it every time.

He thought you were sent from the gods, how could he have found someone like you, who fit just perfect under his thumb, so willing to do anything just for his attention. Yet here you were, same pretty little girl, same pretty little face, telling him “no” ???.

You were straddling his lap, on his rough leather couch, the tv lowly played a old movie which by now has left both of your minds. The dim light from the kitchen buzzing due to the bulbs starting to burn out, which completely unfazed Toji, but left you slightly annoyed.

“No?” He scoffed.

You adjusted your hands to fit onto his built shoulders had his began gripping you hips tighter and tighter.

“Nope, I don’t want my jaw to hurt in the morning” you gave him a coy smile, while tilting your head down to stare at him through your lashes.

His right hand came up and  roughly gripping your jaw. “Does it look like I fucking care?” He practically growled in your face. In all honesty he was more confused than pissed, of course he was going to immediately put you in your place, but you had him genuinely concerned, we’re you always like this? Did he do something wrong?? You tried to shake you head but due to his grip you could only move so far.

“Now, on. your. knees.” He released his grip only for his hand to move to the back of you neck waiting for you to comply. You slowly leaned in kissing the scar on his lip to kiss down to his jaw then leaning back up to whisper two little words that could make or break your night, probably both.

“Make me”

the millisecond your breathy whisper hit his ear it was over, you were done for. Say goodbye to you legs you’re probably never walking again.

The force in which he pulled you hair made you shriek. He stood up tossing you over his shoulder furiously stomping into the bedroom. He threw you onto his mattress, you couldn’t help but giggle, this is exactly what you wanted it only added to his rage. He threw off his shirt, then gripped your ankles pulling you to the edge of the bed. He was immediately on top of you, his knees digging into your calves holding down your legs, has one hand gripped both of your wrists and the other tightly around your throat. You were already breathing hard due to anticipation but now he practically had you life in his hands.

“What the fuck did you do with my good little girl hmm?” His voice darkened by lust.

“I don’t know who your talking about” you laughed again, his grip tightening around your throat.

Before you could make another comment his knee was pushed up between your thighs has the hand holding your wrist bunched your shirt up exposing your bra. He ripped the right strap off  making you choke out a gasp, then he slid the rest of garment out from under you to throw it across the room. Toji mouth immediately on your breast teasing you to no avail.

“M..m..more” you choked out, you were in no right to be making demands but you really wanted to see how angry you could make him. His only reply was catching you nipple on a canine and biting down hard. You almost screamed, you thought he probably wanted to see you bleed.

He continued his teasing, you wanted to keep this game up for longer but your vision was starting to get hazy from the lack of oxygen. You started pawing at his shoulders, while wrapping you legs around his waist, quietly pleading, “I’m.. I’m sorry... T...oji..I’m...” the hand on your throat let go to harshly slap your thigh making you yelp in pain once again.

“That’s not my name. C’mon what is it?”... you met his harsh gaze, maybe just a little longer... “Toj-“ he slapped you across the face. You didn’t make a single sound but the tears pricking your eyes said enough. Lucky for you, Toji’s into that.

He met your lips in a sloppy kiss shoving his tongue down your throat. You tapped his collar bone silently signaling you needed to breathe, once he moved away he removed his pants and helped you wiggled out of yours.

“Who knew you’re such a fucking brat” he slapped your thigh again watching you squirm. His hand hovered over your already drenched cunt, as he starred right into your eyes. The flush on your chest started moving to you face. Why were suddenly getting all worked up now??

“Are you gonna give in already?, gonna be my good little whore again?”, you wanted to answer no again because he looked so hot when he was angry. The words got caught in your throat and all you could do was nod.

He lightly slapped your clit “Hmm need to hear it little girl, tell me who owns you?”

“you do....daddy” you admitted, you tilted your down, you couldn’t meet his eyes.

His calloused palm came up and caressed your jaw leaning in closer. “Are you sorry? Tell daddy your sorry for being such a brat.” He mocked making a fake pout. “M’sorry daddy, j..just wanted to make you angry.”

“I know you did princess...” He reeled his hand back to full on slap your cunt, squirming up the bed you let out a pathetic whine.

He slapped three, four more times now, and the tears started running down your face. He moved to tuck his face in the nape of your neck, leaving deep red bruises as he moved down your torso.

The muscles in his back rippled as he held himself up but the palms of his hands. God he looked so..big... not sure if he would ever explicitly admit the he liked how he overpowered you in almost every single way...but you liked it too.

There was no way you could’ve played you act for any longer, he would’ve choked you out. And would’ve done it with ease since his hand was bigger than your actual face. You knew how dangerous this was, yet still tilled wanted to play fire, but alas here you were once again, bowing to his every command.

“D..d..ddaddy..p..please..”

“Aw there she is” he lifted his face from you chest giving you one of his sickening grins. “I thought he wanted to play the little bitchy brat huh? What happened?” His voice dripping with mockery.

“N..need..you”

“How princess, you know daddy can’t help if you don-“

“please, PLEASE! need daddy’s cock! ….” you were getting impatient now, was this the most he was going to? you expected at lea-.

The scream ripped from you chest was silenced by the strong hand around your throat in a death like grip. He shoved his whole cock inside your tight little cunt, there was no prep not even when you were on the couch, he didn’t he stuff his fingers in your little cunt to stretch you out. You knew he was big, since the time he shoved his entire cock down your throat but feeling it twitch inside you making you feel like your being absolutely split open on Toji’s cock.

He gave a deep throaty chuckle, you knew how much he was enjoying this. New tears pricked from your eyes, wetting your cheeks, he moved his free hand pinching your clit between his fore finger and thumb, watching your eyes roll to the back of your head. The hand on your throat gripped your hair moving so his face was flushed with yours, spatting in your ear, “You don’t cum until I say, understand?” All you could do was whine in response.

“I give you rules for a reason break them and I’ll kill you where you lay.” A threat, empty of not, it had you clenching hard around his dick. You glanced down to where you were connect, to be met with a indescribable bulge in your lower stomach.

Dear god, bless your poor cervix, he hasn’t even started moving yet  and you could feel the intrusion all the same. He started rocking his hips slight against yours, at least he was giving you sometime to adjust, all while staring two lust filled hole into your head as you writhed and whimpered underneath him. He pulled his hips back to pull out but when he’s met with the slightest sign of blood mixed with the milky white arousal coating his dick, he could’ve came right there.

He gripped your hips sinking right back into you making you scream once again. “DA-DADDY..fuck..shit..” the tears running down you face only egged him on.

“So god damn tight, maybe I should never prep you again, if you’re gonna feel like this every time” he groaned. “Such dirty little words, I would’ve punished you if you didn’t already dig yourself a grave”.

The pained moans falling from your lips were music to ears. Profanities fell from his as he continued a rough pace, your tits bouncing with every thrust. He had fucked you completely and utterly dumb, no coherent thought where making their way to you consciousness. Only daddy, Toji, and cock.

You have gotten numb to the pain but right now you were putting all you effort into not focusing on the way his dick was bruising you cervix, trying so hard not to come just from the way his pelvic bone catches your clit. You didn’t realize he was speaking to you till he lightly slapped your cheek. “Aw look at you, you’ve gone all stupid. Too bad, if you played nice I would’ve let you cum by now.” The malice in his voice made you clench around his cock, squeezing more of your arousal on his thighs. “ at least you’re taking me so well.” His breath hitched as his thrust stared getting sloppy.

“Holy fuck, keep squeezing just like that-“ you saw his abs clench, “remember you don’t cum till I say” his eyes flicked right back into yours you nodded, more like messily rolled your head around. “Holy fuck princess...” he was practically already using your cunt like a toy. With a last few harsh thrust he filled you cunt to the brim with hot, thick cum.

The groans falling from his mouth sounded almost angelic. All you could let out was a low whine met with heavy breathing. The sweat dripping down his toned chest shone from the dim light of the lamp on the corner the side table. He pulled out watching his cum drip out of you down to your asshole and onto his dark sheets.

Your body laid motionless barely opening your eyes to see him move away from edge and walk to his discarded pants. Your brain couldn’t even process this as you licked you’re tongue to wet your now dry lips.

Then it dawned that he didn’t let you cum... that fucker. You couldn’t do a single thing about it.

Because here you were unsatisfied, speechless, practically crippled, staring blankly at the ceiling. As he sat and lit a cigarette on the opposite end of the bed.

Notes: I am so sorry. There’s just something about Toji Fushiguro that I just forget how to function correctly. Um I hope you enjoyed! And that I didn’t rot ur brain too much<3

ps: ppp..ppart 2??? fluff???😏

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 5

More people said yes to Hannigram, which is good because Will is already involved in the plot and it would be awkward to have him just disappear. Also, I had someone request a Hannigram x reader in my asks. Apologies to the one person who voted no; I promise there will be more solo Hannibal x reader content in the future.

Hannibal decides to that y/n could do with some extra protection, but doesn’t anticipate what she has to tell him.

I have no idea how to make a proper tag list but @deadman-inc-bikeshop and @dovahdokren here you go 

Trigger warnings: discussions of alcohol, victim blaming

“When I saw his face, I immediately knew he had never once experienced the touch of his own hand, let alone that of a woman.” Charissa read out loud to everyone on staff. “Or, that he was buried so deep in the closet he found Narnia, but those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.” 

It was expected to be a slow night, as was normal for an ordinary Tuesday. On nights like those, you could get away with more, like reading a tabloid article out loud for everyone to hear. 

“I can’t believe [F/N] actually went public.” One of the new busboys commented. “What an absolute madlad.”  

“Did you just unironically use reddit terminology in an actual conversation?” You narrowed your eyes at the kid. 

“[F/N], you are making a very dangerous enemy.” An older waitress said, cryptically, from the corner of the room. 

“Who, Jason?” You gestured to the busboy. “What’s he gonna do? Make me cringe myself to death?” 

“You know that’s not who I mean.” She frowned. “I’m talking about Chase Mulvaney.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You shook your head. “He’s not stupid enough to come back here.” 

Charissa made a noise that denoted her doubt. “I dunno, [F/N]. You’d have to be pretty stupid to start stabbing people at a crowded restaurant in broad daylight.” 

“But he was smart enough to get away, right?” Jason asked. “That’s gotta count for something!” 

You and Charissa exchanged glances. Neither of you had the emotional bandwidth to explain white privilege again. Instead, you just humored him. 

“Yeah.” Charissa lied. “He was smart enough to get away, meaning he probably knows better than to come back.”

"You're kidding yourself." A third waitress, who's name you couldn't seem to place, added. "People always say that killers are these galaxy-brained superhumans, but they're not. Mulvaney believes he's divinely ordained, so any thought that pops into his coked-out head is a sign from god."

And so shattered your thin firmament of denial. You made a point to never learn this person's name just out of spite.

“Oh, shit.” You said, trying to hide your genuine fear with a sarcastic voice. “Maybe he is coming back for me.” 

Charissa glared at the two other waitresses, equally pissed at them for scaring you.

"And it'll be your own fault for provoking him with that article." The older waitress said.

"Holy victim-blaming, batman." You mumbled.

“Alright, listen up, y’all.” Matthew announced to the group. “In ten minutes we open for dinner. Remember, if you want to switch shifts with another person, you have to run it by me first. I don’t want to see anybody but [F/N] at the bar tonight, capiche?”

“Yessir.” You saluted him and made your way over to the bar. You’d been doling out your bartending shifts left and right to avoid even the possibility of being cornered by another Freddie Lounds. You were only prolonging the inevitable, though. Eventually, you needed to return to the bar.

You passed the hostess's stand, where Charissa was stationed. Suddenly, you felt someone grab at your arm.

"Fucking hell, dude?!" You flinched violently and your heart rate jumped. "Don't do that!"

"Shit, sorry!" Charissa looked immediately regretful. "But, look!"

You followed her gaze through the window where a fancy car was parked. He leaned against the door, adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt.

Now your heart was beating fast for a completely different reason. You squeezed Charissa's hand, trying to keep a lid on your nervous excitement.

"I think your luck's starting to turn." She said in a sing-songy voice.

"Yeah, I bet he'll protect me from the Baltimore Butcher." You whispered, trying not to giggle like an elementary school girl.

"Oh, could you imagine those arms around you?" She sighed deeply, her hand firmly against her chest. "I would die."

"Not until he sinks his teeth into your neck." You smirked, gnashing your teeth together.

"I would let him." She rested her chin on her hand.

"Yeah, me too." You agreed.

"I would give anything to trade shifts with you." Charissa groaned.

"Well, you heard the boss." You shrugged, suddenly feeling much better about your assignment. "I gotta stay behind the bar."

"Oh, pobrecita." Charissa rolled her eyes. Underneath the stand, she put up her middle finger in your direction. "Suck a dick, [L/N]."

You walked backwards towards the bar, keeping your eyes on your friend. "That's the plan, baby."

You tried to make yourself look busy. You dared not look at him as he entered the restaurant.

He exchanged pleasantries with Charissa then took his seat at the bar. You pretended not to notice him right away, only to give you an extra second to compose yourself.

"Hi there." You greeted, knowing you'd feel stupid no matter what you said. "Er- good evening."

"[F/N] [L/N], I assume?" He asked.

Fuck, you thought. His voice was dark, low and made your insides tremble. Even though part of you knew he was going to know your name, it still felt so sensual passing his lips.

You realized you had waved to him with your bandaged hand. That's how he was about to identify you so quickly. "Yes, I am she. I mean- her. Me."

Way to go, dumbass. You thought. Now he knows you're nervous and he's going to wonder why.

“God, I need to stop wearing this damn thing.” You said, clearing your throat. “What can I get for you tonight?” 

He was quiet for a moment. "What do you recommend?"

"Well, that depends." You said, pulling your gaze from him and grabbing a few wine glasses down from a high shelf. It was the only way you could maintain your composure.

"On?"

"What you're having for dinner, for one." You said. "And whether or not you're a vulpine tabloid journalist trying to corner me into a dubiously ethical interview. That's also a factor."

"So that's how Miss Lounds wore you down?" He concluded. "With wine?"

You rested your elbows on the bar, filled with an intoxicating confidence. "She tried wine first. Then she tried to get me fired because she asked for chardonnay and I brought her chablis. And when that didn't work, she siphoned my gas."

"I wish I could say that was out of character for her." He looked at you, apologetically.

"I take it you've had your own run-ins with Freddie?" You smiled.

"She's tried to infiltrate my practice multiple times." He sighed. "She's entered my office under a fake name with a recording device in her purse."

"What a sick fuck." You said, before remembering you really weren't supposed to curse in front of customers. You covered your mouth. "Sorry."

The corners of his mouth turned up into an amused smile. "Don't apologize. You're right."

“So you’re a doctor?” You asked, hoping he wasn’t the type to be offended by questions. 

“I’m a psychiatrist.” He nodded. “I used to work as a surgeon, but I find the mind much more compelling.” 

"Seriously, though." You pushed yourself back to your feet. "What can I get for you?"

He eyed the wine menu and then looked back at you. "What is your favorite red?"

"My favorite red?" You placed your hand on your collarbones. "On a night like this, I enjoy a nice, dry Argentinean Malbec."

"In that case," he thumbed through the list once more. "I'll have a bottle of Cobos Chañares from 2016, please."

You smiled. You wouldn't mind taking a sip of that if he offered. "Right away."

You carefully pulled the solid black bottle from its crevice and placed it on the bar. You removed the plastic seal and reached for the corkscrew. The bottle opened with a satisfying pop, filling the air around you with the strong, complex and seemingly contradictory aromas.

You poured a bit of this criminally expensive wine into his glass. He smelled it, then swirled it for a moment before taking a sip.

"Redcurrants and vanilla," he began. "With floral notes that operate with the precision of interlocking gears in a clock. Everything in its place."

"So you're a sommelier and a poet?" You tilted your head and filled his glass. "I'll bet you make women swoon at every corner."

You never had the best grasp on flirting, but even you knew that line was awful.

“Are you flirting with me, Miss [L/N]?” He asked, clearly not too worried about the consequences and enjoying the flattery. “Or are you just trying to get a taste of this Malbec?” 

“Little bit of column A, little bit of column B.” You shrugged. “Though you are as handsome as everyone says, I’ve had my eyes on that wine for slightly longer.” 

You fought the urge to slap your hand over your mouth. You had just broken the cardinal rule of workplace gossip. Panic reverberated through your body as you tried to break down his unreadable expression. 

Once again, he just looked amused. “I’ve seen those lingering glances, the way you all whisper and giggle. It’s flattering.” 

You felt your cheeks growing hot. “...I see.” 

“If you tell me what they say about me, I’ll let you have a taste.” His eyes bored into yours. 

You paused, trying to decipher exactly what he was offering. Then it hit you. 

“Oh!” You interjected. “The wine.” 

“Yes, that’s what I meant.” He said. “Dare I ask where your mind went?” 

Your cheeks stung from all the uncomfortable smiling. “I’d really like to keep my job, thanks.” 

“Have you never heard of bartender-client confidentiality?” His voice lowered and his eyes found your lips. “Nothing we say tonight has to leave these four walls.” 

Your insides turned to jelly. He rested the wine glass in his hand and offered it to you. Your hands shaking, you cradled the glass like an 18th century French village prostitute being offered a mug of hot soup. You brought the glass to your lips, the strong, overwhelming smells assaulting your orifices.

You let the wine grace your tongue. You had taught yourself to overcome the sting of the alcohol and focus on the undertones. Your eyes rolled back in to your head and you let out a little noise of pleasure. 

“Christ on a bike, that’s decadent.” You said, gasping for air a little bit. You quickly passed the glass back to him before Matthew could see you. “Thank you.” 

“Now, indulge me.” He instructed, glancing at the fresh pink lipstick mark on his glass. “What do the lovely women of Terroir whisper while I’m just out of earshot?” 

You rested your elbows on the bar and leaned in close. “They say you’re a vampire.” 

Judging by his unchanging neutral expression, it clearly wasn’t the first time someone had made that connection. “Perhaps they’re on to something.” 

“One of our line cooks used to say you were the devil.” You informed him, hoping that was one he hadn’t heard before.

“Used to?” He raised his eyebrows. 

“Until Chase Mulvaney came around.” You instinctively ran your fingers over your bandages, as if to make sure they were still there. It was a nervous tick you’d developed anytime someone brought up that day. “He’s stopped talking about, like, anything having to do with his religion ever since.” 

“It takes a lot to get an evangelist to stop evangelizing.” He refilled his glass. “Do you think he lost his faith?” 

“I heard someone say in passing that it was because he and Chase Mulvaney went to the same church.” You whispered. “But I can’t verify that.” 

“I’d say it’s more likely than a regular customer being a vampire, wouldn’t you?” 

“I wouldn’t trust their word because they made a regular customer into a vampire.” You corrected, hoping he would overlook the fact that you were one of them. “Secrets may stay within these four walls, but they tend to bounce around. It’s only a matter of time before one escapes, and you’d better hope it’s not one of yours.” 

This man must have been an exceptional therapist, because, there you were, baring your soul to him after fifteen minutes and one sip of wine. Occasionally, you were pulled away from the conversation by another customer who had the audacity to also want a drink. But, very few people came to you with the sole intent of drinking on a Tuesday evening. You and the sommelier talked until closing time. 

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Miss [L/N].” He said pulling out his wallet. “You are as delightful in person as you are on paper.” 

“Thank you, but I never caught-” you said, but stopped yourself. “I mean, you never gave me your name.” 

He signed his name on the paper check, then pulled out a fifty and unceremoniously handed it to you. “Now why would you want to ruin the mystery?” 

“Nothing we say tonight has to leave these four walls, remember?” You grinned and crossed your arms. “Come on, I won’t tell anyone.” 

He took the customer copy of the receipt and scribbled something down on it. He the folded it in half and slid it in your direction as if it contained nuclear launch codes. 

“Join me for dinner someday.” He ordered. “I’ll supply the Malbec.” 

[rantingwriter]

Accidentally in Love (Hawks x Civilian Reader) Finale

Trigger warning: strong language, long hospital stay, slight angst

A couple of months passed since that magical night out with Hawks. You noticed his visits after that became more and more infrequent. You weren’t too worried at first, he is a pro-hero he is naturally busy. Now...you just weren’t sure what to think. “Yo, [y/n], how long are you trying to make your scarf?” Hime catches your attention and you quickly realize you made a 7 foot long plaid scarf. 

“Oh, shit...uh…” you start to work in reverse to shorten the scarf back up to a more reasonable length. Today was knitting day, but you managed to convince Yumi (the recreation therapist) to let you use your quirk instead of the knitting needles. “Sorry, I was lost in thought.”

“No worries, but what’s got you spacing out like this?” Ayame asks, only making a potholder with her limited (but slowly improving) range of motion. 

“It’s-” you quickly check your surroundings before quietly continuing. “Hawks, he hasn’t been by in weeks…” 

“He is a top ten pro hero, from my understanding that means they are notoriously busy.” Ayame tries to reassure you, but you have been telling yourself that too much to believe it. “Do you have his number? Maybe you can call him.” 

“I do have his office number, but wouldn’t that be weird? What would I even say?” 

“Maybe, how’s it going? Just checking in? Hadn’t heard and wanted to see if you are alright?” Hime ticks off options on her fingers, she is doing some embroidery which is a bit easier to complete one handed. “Even just a text would probably help put your mind at ease.” 

You nod and finish your scarf up, folding it up onto the table for Yumi to come see. “Maybe after the group,” you continue to converse with the girls and Yumi praises your work when she gets to you. After the group wraps up, you go down to the hospital payphone, your cell is dead and you don’t have enough patience to wait for it to charge right now. You call the number Hawks gave to you. “Come on…” You hold your breath as it rings, your heart sinking when you get an answering machine. At the tone you do your damnedest to stop your voice from quivering with emotion. “Hey! It’s [y/n], I haven’t seen you around and I figured I would check in on you. I know you are probably busy, but...well...I guess I miss you.” You feel a lump form in your throat. “Just give me a call back or, uh, or a text, my number is…” you recite your cell phone number and tell him to have a good day before hanging up. You lean your forehead against the slightly warmed phone as it hangs from the receiver. Your heart is aching, “damn it, why am I so upset about this?” When your landlord kicked you out 4 weeks ago, you felt fine. You had a plan and your friends helped you out. You haven’t been making much progress since that first step, you weren’t upset, frustrated? A tad, but not the same level you got to in your first month here. Hawks ghosting you...just hit differently. You wheel your way back to your room, hoping he was waiting there, but alas it was empty. You set your scarf on the little table and get back in the familiar bed. You go against your better judgment and turn on the news, the silence in the room is just too much right now. 

“In other news, pro-hero Hawks has been reported missing after taking on the mission to hunt down the dangerous villain: Live Wire.” The news anchor continues to speak, but you can’t hear it. You drop the remote to the floor with a loud clatter. 

Fumi suddenly bursts into your room, “[Y/n]!” Your head slowly turns to meet her gaze, her voice barely registering. “Shit, I was afraid you would see that…” She quickly turns the TV off. “Word traveled fast, Mayu is a wreck and I heard you tried to call him.” 

You swallow dryly, “he can’t be missing, he just can’t be. Maybe he is laying low? Or the media is trying to throw them off the trail?” You were trying to think of any possible alternative, but Fumiko somberly shakes her head no. “He can’t be gone!” 

“[Y/n], I need you to calm down, take a deep breath for me.” She tries to reach out, but you swat her away. 

“There is no way! I refuse to believe it! I-I can’t believe it!!” Your voice is steadily rising in pitch, your breathing is growing too erratic for your own good. Your friend quickly calls for help and your room fills with nurses and a doctor. They have to administer a mild sedative to bring you down from your near hysteria levels of panic. It ends up knocking you out for a couple of hours, your friend returning to work with a note left on your table with the promise to return that night. When you come to, you feel numb, someone you have grown to hold quite dear is missing and you are powerless to do anything. A nurse comes in to check your vitals when your phone buzzes with a message from an unknown number. You wait for the nurse to finish up before checking to see if it was an automated message or scammer preying on the weak again. Shock overcomes you as you read the messages. 

Unknown: “Hey, it’s Hawks.” 

Unknown: “Don’t respond, I’m not keeping this phone or this number.” 

Unknown: “I hope you didn’t see that news report, but if you have, I’m okay.” 

Unknown: “This mission is going to be a long one so I won’t be able to stop by. I’m sorry if I caused you any concern, but I was told not to tell anyone about this mission.”

Unknown: “I’m going to trust you to keep this between us ;)” 

Unknown: “I promise to make up for my absence…”

Unknown: “When I return, I want to take you out on a date.” 

Unknown: “And yes I mean a date date, not some half assed play date or anything that’ll leave you wondering where things are going.” 

Tears pepper your phone screen, you felt so much relief and joy at just a few messages. Even if this was a sick, elaborate joke meant to make you think it was him, you held onto hope it was the genuine article. 

Unknown: “Just know that I haven’t forgotten about you. I miss you...and I know it is incredibly selfish of me to ask…”

Unknown: “Please, wait for me.” 

You nod as if he can see you, “I’ll wait, please just be safe.” You sob, your fingers clutching the scarf you made for him. 

Unknown: “I have to go now. I want you to focus on your recovery, don’t worry about me. I’ll see you as soon as I can.”

The last one was sent a few minutes ago, you bury your face in your knees and let it all out. Fumiko comes by like she promised and you have feign ignorance about his whereabouts. You do your best to follow his last request and focus on your recovery. He was working hard, so you would too. 

Two more months go by, no news of his whereabouts and no more secret messages either. Mayu hasn’t been herself since the announced disappearance, but she was powering through for her patients sake. You on the other hand have made great progress, you are finally walking. Actually walking! Granted you still need support to maintain balance, but you are able to move your legs again. You still utilize your wheelchair to get around the hospital, but you are doing your best not to rely on it too much now that you are regaining mobility. 

After a couple of weeks of steady improvement, they are talking about a possible discharge date. You aren’t sure how to feel, you are ready to be back out and about and get back to your life. Yet at the same time there is still so much to take care of that you can’t help but feel overwhelmed. Rika tries to help by apartment hunting in your stead, now that a release date is on the calendar, but you still need to ensure the job offer is still in place with Best Jeanist. 

Before you know it, you are walking without support and you are preparing to leave the hospital that has become your home for nearly a year. Hime and Ayame are so excited for you, both are still stuck for a little while longer, but you promised them to visit as often as possible. You thank all of your therapists, the ones who have been there the whole journey and the ones who only made occasional appearances. Your bags are packed, your prosthetic is in tip top shape, and your transport is all ready to go. Tomorrow, you are going home. You feel more melancholy than joy about the occasion. Part of you hoped Hawks would be back by now to see you off or at least hear some type of news on his whereabouts. You turn on the news right before bed, a new ritual just to see if there have been sightings or anything at this point. Expecting the same old news, you leave it on as background noise and busy yourself with something else.

Breaking news! Flashes across the screen and the news anchor fervently announces, “Hawks has finally returned after being off the grid for nearly 6 months. The villain known as Live Wire now confined to the maximum security prison of Tartarus!” You feel your heart swell, he is finally back! A loud ding of your phone alerts you to a new message. 

New number: “Come to the roof.” 

You quickly get in your wheelchair and wheel your way to the roof. You throw the door open and you feel your heart skip a beat. It’s him! It’s really him! He turns to face you as soon as he hears the metal door. His face is beaming, “Hey there kid.” The sound of his voice washes over you like a refreshing breeze on a hot day. “You look great, how are things going with treatment?” 

You smile brightly, rising up from your wheelchair, you make it look like you have simply mastered standing. When you start running towards him, his face quickly morphs to one of shock. You leap at him, throwing your arms around his neck as he effortlessly catches you. You can hear the smile in his voice as he shouts out, “Holy shit!” He tightens his hold around you. “Holy shit!!” He lets go of you and pushes you back to look at you, his hands still firmly on your shoulders. “You are walking! You-you are running!!” He is a sputtering, excited mess. 

“I actually leave tomorrow, I finally did it!” You cheer with him, lightly jumping as his wings puff up and expand outwards. 

“I’m so proud of you! I wish I could’ve been here to see you,” his wings start to droop, but you quickly gather him back up and just embrace him for a minute. 

“You are here now,” he returns the sentiment, burying his face into your shoulder. You both stay like that for a long time, relishing in the closeness and warmth. You finally break the silence, whispering in his ear. “So, still planning to take me out on a date?” 

His breath tickles your skin as he chuckles, “of course,” he leans back his arms still firmly around you. “I wanted to talk to you before this mission, but...shit happens.” He starts to caress your cheek, halting his efforts to tug the glove off with his teeth. His warm hand has a much more welcoming feeling than the rough texture of the glove. “I really like you, more than I’ve ever liked anyone. I know we had a rocky start and things haven’t been the easiest since we met, but…” He hesitates, unsure how to continue when you throw the scarf you made him around the back of his neck and yank him close enough to press your lips to his. He jerks back initially, it takes him a few seconds to register what just happened. When the lightbulb in his brain lights up, he grabs the side of your face and crashes his lips into yours. You can’t help but laugh at his actions, wrapping your arms around his neck to solidify the connection. You are first to break it to catch your breath. 

“I like you too, you goof.” You affectionately rub your nose against his and he rests his forehead against yours. 

“I’m glad, I was more scared of this conversation than I was facing that villain.” You both laugh as you step back to properly wrap the scarf around him. “What’s this?” 

“Something I made for you...think of it as a gift to cover the holidays I missed.” He smiles as he feels the material between his fingers. 

“Thank you,” he takes your hands in his and lightly swings from side to side. When this all started, you couldn’t see a future, you felt lost, alone, and just empty. Now, you’ve made new friends, you felt like you’ve regained control of your life, and now you have a boyfriend; bonus points! The fear of leaving the hospital felt so small now, you were ready to get back to living.

[oscar-lettjohanssonloveme]

Glide (Miss Venable x reader)

a/n: hello :3 here we have another song fanfiction whoohoo- uhm Glide (by Lxandra) don't expect too much haha.. its angsty i guess lol :7 oh and its really long-

summary: I am really bad at this holy shit.. I guess its about the “"relationship” between you and Miss Venable (relationship is a weird word-)

warnings: alcohol, talking about depression and suicide (but nobody's actually depressed), notes of sex 

google translate :’D

"So, Miss Y / L / N", Mister Langdon finally said as he stepped around the table to stand in front of you.

"After telling me about your homosexuality, I would like to know if you are currently in love?"

You narrowed your eyes at the man in front of you.

"What kind of stupid question is that? Is this the part where we braid each other's hair and talk about our high school crushes?"

"Answer. My. Question.", the Man growled.

"Okay okay," you muttered quickly. "Uhm, well let me think about it for a minute."

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

It all started when Miss Venable heard you scream one night.

You had been at Outpost 3 for a few months at this point and in all that time you hadn't spoken a lot and spent the entire time in your room except for meals.

The others didn't know much about you. They knew, you were one of the youngest residents of the Outpost and that you had left your family behind. And of course they knew your name. But that was all.

You spent a lot of time thinking about your family. Your relationship with your parents wasn't ideal, but you still missed them. And if you had known a year ago where you were today, you would have done a few things differently. Celebrating Christmas with them one last time, vacationing with them, simply spending the time peacefully with them instead of arguing.

Usually you cried quietly to yourself, with your head buried under your pillow, hoping, that everyone would forget you existed,  but crying wasn't enough tonight and after dinner you snuck into the kitchen to steal a bottle of the red wine, that you smuggled into your room afterwards.

It was now 1 a.m., the bottle was almost empty, and hours ago you had started tossing the items you had in your room. Your clothes were scattered on the floor, while you had tossed the boring books from the library against the wall. Your bed was a complete disaster and in all your anger you had torn the sheets. There were red wine stains on your pillows, which had almost slipped into the blazing fire of the fireplace after you tossed them off the bed.

And now all you could do was scream.

"Fuck you!" You shouted as you staggered in the room with the alcohol in one hand.

"Fuck you all! Fuck this apocalypse, fuck this outpost, fuck-"

"Miss Y / L / N" interrupted you a loud voice behind you and made you turn around.

Miss Venable was standing in the doorway in front of the locked door, staring at you in confusion.

"Ever heard of knocking?" You grumbled and hid the bottle behind your back.

"I knocked," Miss Venable hissed, her gaze wandering angrily over your chaos.

"And if you hadn't screamed so loud, you would probably have heard it. What the fuck do you think of making such a noise here at night? Stealing alcohol as well?"

"I uh- caught," you muttered as you put the bottle on the round table in front of you.

"Do you know what's really funny? We don't have anything to eat, but there is no end of alcohol. Whoever came up with that must be pretty stupid."

"It was my idea. I am in charge here, in case you forgot."

"Oh right," you sighed and slapped your forehead with the palm of your hand.

"Shit, well, i'm sorry, but what was your name again?"

"You forgot my name?" Asked Miss Venable sharply with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah," you muttered before collapsing onto your messy bed.

"But I know it was something weird."

Miss Venable glared at you, which of course you couldn't see because you were buried with your face in your blanket.

"Hopefully you realize this will be punished," she growled.

"Oh suck my dick", you grumbled. "You enjoy punishing others, don't you? You are a little psychopath"

You laughed softly into your blanket and noticed how you became more and more sleepy. You almost fell asleep if Miss Venable hadn't tapped her stick loudly on the floor.

"You will start cleaning up here immediately, otherwise it will be the last night you spend in this outpost."

"Oh shut up. You are totally mean to me," you moaned and pouted at the angry woman.

"Why are everyone always so mean to me? I haven't done anything wrong."

You got up on shaky legs to walk past her to the door, but you tripped and fell against Miss Venable.

"Wow," you mumbled as you stared into her brown eyes with your glassy ones and grabbed hold of her hips.

"I may not know your name, but I know,  that you are really pretty"

"What the fuck is wrong withyou ?! "

Wilhemina pushed you away from her so that you stumbled backwards and landed on the floor.

You stared out at her with hurt eyes as tears welled up in your eyes.

"I didn't do anything," you yelled at Miss Venable, who was still leaning on her stick in front of you.

"It's not my fault, that you're beautiful. Be happy, others are ugly."

"That's enough," growled Miss Venable as she took a step towards you and grabbed your arm to pull you up.

"You're going to bed now."

"I'll do nothing," you mumbled and tried to pull yourself out of her grip, but you were way too drunk to use enough strength and she could push you like a doll on the bed.

You laughed again.

"Guess what, my bed is big enough for both of us, isn't that funny?"

You looked up at her playfully, or at least you tried.

"You beautiful woman. We-"

"Your behavior is disgusting," she interrupted as she leaned over to grab your chin. Immediately you fell silent.

"And my name is Miss Venable."

She looked down at you dangerously and you saw fire in her eyes when you started laughing out loud.

"Haha Miss Venable, I told you it was something weird," you shouted before you started screaming out loud.

"Miss Venable is beautiful whohoo. Can you all hear me? Miss Venable is beautiful. She-"

"What the hell", Miss Venable cut you off again and took her hand from your jaw to put it on your mouth.

"Are you going to be quiet at last?"

"M'sorry," you hummed against her hand and Miss Venable could see from the wrinkles around your eyes, that you were grinning under her hand.

"I want you to go to sleep now and clean up the chaos here tomorrow, do you understand me?" She asked in a sharp voice. But you just glared at her and wanted to bite her hand when she repeated her question.

"Do you understand me?" She barked louder and this time you nodded quickly.

"Good," she said happily as she took her hand from your mouth and straightened up again.

"Fuck you," you mumbled quietly and watched unhappily as the woman went to the sofa across from the fireplace and sat on it.

"Can't you just go?" You moaned as she leaned her cane against the edge of the sofa.

"Oh I'll go," she replied while staring into the fire.

"When you fell asleep."

You groan in annoyance.

"Is that supposed to be a joke?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"Oh come on," you sighed and pulled your blanket over your head so she couldn't see you.

It was actually your plan to wait for her to go away, but at some point (who knows how much time had passed) you actually fell asleep.

Living my life in a bubble

Sometimes reality's too much for me

(I trip and fall into a dream)

Your love it gets me into trouble

Sometimes your gravity's too much for me

(It gets me weak in the knees)

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

A week had passed and not much had happened. The next morning you woke up alone and with a big hangover and barely remembering what had happened the previous evening. Miss Venable had forced you to clean up the mess in your room after she had punished you for stealing the alcohol and as attractive as this woman was, she seemed genuinely angry about what had happened, even though it was actually nothing special. At least that's what you thought, but you couldn't remember either.

The world had ended and her problem was, that you had stolen a bottle of wine and ravaged your room. You wondered how fucked up her life must have been before the apocalypse, if that bothered her. And she wasn't the only one you wondered about.

The other residents of the outpost were all disgusting.

"Why do we have to eat this shit?"

"When are we getting out of here?"

"Why is life so unfair and let me be here with you idiots?"

You hate those ungrateful assholes. Everyone was dead and their only problem was, that they were still alive.

Other people deserved it so much more and the fact that mankind's only hope was in these conceited, stupid assholes seemed like a joke.

When you lay in bed that day and stared lost at the ceiling, you had lost all reference to reality. You didn't know what day it was or what month you were in. You also didn't know whether the last meal you ate was lunch or dinner, although a glance at the clock would have been enough. But you got tired of staring at the clock and watching the second hand, hoping something would happen.

Nothing changed anyway. And all you felt was that big feeling of loneliness that completely filled you. You were a very emotional person and all you wanted was someone who was normal. But everybody in this outpost was a huge disappointment. Conceited assholes, intimidated Grays and Miss Venable, who enjoyed punishing people.

Probably you would have started talking to yourself, but thank god you weren't there yet.

Sometimes you thought, it might be easier, if you opened up to others. But your body had become like a prison and you kept every thought trapped deep inside you because it did not match those of the others. Stupid assholes.

And while you continued to sink into your self-pity, you would probably have fallen asleep, if you hadn't been bothered by the sudden knock on your door.

"Fuck off," you moaned while staring angrily at the door, but the person standing in front of it only knocked one more time.

Asshole, you thought before reluctantly climbing out of bed to open your door.

"I said you should f- Oh Miss Venable," you stared at the woman in front of you.

"Are you here to punish me again for something pointless? If so, I can assure you it won't be necessary .. The wounds from last time still hurt, if you care."

Miss Venable screwed up her eyes.

"Well, Miss Y / L / N, actually I don't care, but if it still hurts, you seem to have learned your lesson," she replied coldly and you just snorted in annoyance.

"What do you want from me?"

"You are obviously depressed-" she started and you interrupted her immediately.

"What is that shit supposed to mean? I'm not depressed, I'm just sad. And since when have you been interested in how I'm doing?"

You glared at her with narrowed eyes, but her face still had the same deadly serious expression.

"You've been sad for a long time, don't you think?"

"I- uh".

You looked at her confused.

"All my friends are dead, it's only logical that I feel that way .. I find it rather questionable, that I'm the only one here, who feels that way."

"So?" Miss Venable raised an eyebrow, which made you even more insecure.

"I don't really care how you feel either. I just don't feel like wiping your blood off should you decide to kill yourself."

"Suicide isn't always bloody," you muttered.

"And because we don't have any doctors here-"

"By the way, that's the stupidest thing of all. You know, we have a hairstylist, but no doctors, you also notice that it doesn't make any sense, right?" You interrupted her and crossed your arms in front of your chest.

And again Miss Venable ignored your words and finished her sentence, which you had interrupted.

"..I thought that would help too."

Your eyes widened when you saw what she was pulling out from behind her back and immediately you started laughing.

"Are you serious? First you punish me brutally for stealing a bottle of red wine and now you come to give me one?" You laughed and stared down at the bottle she was holding out to you.

"What's worse is, that you think alcohol is replacing therapeutic treatment. That's pretty sad to be honest, Miss Venable."

Wilhemina narrowed her eyes.

"It's not sad, I just prefer red wine stains instead of stains from your blood," she growled.

"You can't possibly be serious," you mumbled and suddenly had to grin.

"You enjoyed punishing me, right? And now you're coming, because you need a reason to do it again."

"Oh come on," Miss Venable rolled her eyes.

"Take the bottle or don't take it, it's just an offer."

You were still staring at her in amazement. What was wrong with her that she thought this action would solve your problems? Another proof of how fucked up everything was and that the only person you could count on was yourself.

"Uhm, well thank you, Miss Venable," you stuttered and reached for the bottle.

"If you come over every evening and bring me a bottle, your diagnosis may work and I will have very different problems, than my sadness."

"Not funny," muttered Miss Venable, her lips pressed together.

"Well, good evening, Miss Y / N."

She turned around and started to leave and you could only stare after her in confusion. Evening?

Then you actually had dinner earlier, even though you could have sworn it was only lunch.

"Maybe you want to join me-?" You asked suddenly and were just as surprised by this question as Miss Venable, who turned to you.

"What?"

"I don't think getting drunk on my own would be fun," you added, stepping nervously from one foot to the other.

"You did it a week ago," replied Miss Venable and in the torchlight you could see the lines of confusion on her face.

"But I never said it was fun," you smiled crookedly as your grip tightened on the neck of the bottle.

"And I think it would be nicer to do that, in the presence of another person. Especially since you've already seen me drunk."

You looked at Miss Venable expectantly, although you did not know exactly what you were doing. It was probably just your desperate attempt to get someone's attention, simply because everyone, who has ever cared about you was dead. And you knew Miss Venable might not be the best choice. But while the others complained aloud about their suffering and argued about who was worse off, Miss Venable didn't show such feelings and kept her thoughts to herself. A circumstance with which you could somehow identify.

"Okay," Miss Venable finally muttered, surprising you one more time that day.

"Well, great," you said before stepping out the door frame to go back to your room. You sat on the other end of the sofa, across from where she sat a week ago. In your hand there was still the bottle of red wine and for whatever reason you were ashamed of this situation. Miss Venable brought you alcohol because she thought, you could use it to manage your sadness, or depression (as she called it). And if she had actually meant well, which was actually questionable with her, then you had to make a pretty pathetic impression on others.

"You cleaned up the mess," you heard Miss Venable's voice behind you, but it was more of a determination than an acknowledgment.

"And I just noticed that we have no glasses at all".

Your shoulders sagged at her words and for a moment you were afraid she would leave. But you heard her close the door behind her before she went to the sofa and sat down on the exact same place, that she had been sitting on a week ago.

You watched the woman confused, leaning her cane against the sofa.

Her gaze lifted to you and she stared at you as expectantly as you looked at her confused.

"What are you waiting for? Go into the kitchen and get glasses," Miss Venable uttered.

You blinked in surprise.

"I- I didn't know that was a request," you muttered before jumping up from the sofa to run from your room into the kitchen.

When you ran back to your room 5 minutes later with two wine glasses, Miss Venable was still sitting on the ugly fabric sofa just as she had done a few minutes earlier. And somehow there was something aesthetic about it.

Personally, you thought it was ridiculous, that everyone had to adapt to the Victorian style, just because she wanted to. But it was perfect for Miss Venable. As if it was made for it. Her red hair, which she always pinned up so strictly, then her almost black eyes and the lipstick. Also her pale skin and her cane. Even her strict personality perfectly matched the style of clothing.

"Do you want to stay in the door frame and stare at me, or are you finally coming now," Wilhemina hissed suddenly without moving even an inch and immediately a slight blush rose in your face.

"M'sorry," you muttered and quickly closed the door before going back to the sofa. After you sat down, you put the glasses in front of you on the table, where the wine bottle was now.

"I was just wondering," you explained as you poured the wine into your glasses.

"Why the Victorian style of all things?"

"Why not? It looks good," replied Miss Venable, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Well," you began before turning to give her her glass.

"The world is ending and you make us wear 10kg dresses, because you think it looks good?"

"Any better idea?" Miss Venable asked back, putting the glass to her lips.

"Uhm I, i don't know," you stuttered and watched Miss Venable as she drank her wine.

"Don't we have to be prepared somehow or something like that?"

You heard Miss Venable laugh quietly into her glass.

"Prepared?" She repeated with a small grin and put her glass back on the table.

"On what? For the aliens to come and get us out of here?"

You shrugged your shoulders.

"I don't know," you mumbled before you put your glass to your lips to take a sip of the bitter liquid and while you were drinking you could feel her gaze digging into your skin.

"By the way, I also find it very questionable what kind of people live in this outpost," you added, setting your Glas next to hers on the table.

Wilhemina let out a laugh. It was one of those laughs that you couldn't tell whether it was meant honestly or sarcastically.

"I'm not surprised you say that," she muttered.

"Is my dislike of the others that obvious?" you asked confused.

"I don't know if obviously this is the right word .. But what I do know, is that you always look disgusted when you see them, so I'm assuming you don't like them and to be honest, I like them neither.

Your confusion turned to laughter.

"Well," you said.

"With you it is obvious that you don't like any of them."

"These people are just as competent as they were poor. They are only here because of their money," she said disapprovingly.

You sighed thoughtfully.

"It's kind of sad, that money was the way in here. Scientists would have been so much more valuable. I'm only here because my grandfather had the money."

"What did you do before the apocalypse?" She asked you and you were surprised by this honest question.

"I went to college to study history," you replied when your gaze wandered into the fire.

"So I can  judge that the Victorian style wasn't the most practical choice."

You heard Miss Venable snort in annoyance and you couldn't help but grin.

"And what did you do before the apocalypse?" You asked, turning your gaze back to her. Miss Venable seemed as surprised by your question as you were by hers.

"It's a little tricky," she began. "Basically, I built human robots."

"Robots?"

"Robots."

For a moment you stared at her in amazement. Miss Venable had averted her gaze from you and directed it to the wine glass in front of her.

"M'sorry, but if you've built human robots, why are you letting real people, the Grays, work for us? Wouldn't robots have been revolutionary in an apocalypse?"

Unlike you, Miss Venable seemed totally unaffected by this.

You watched as the redhead reached for her wine glass and took another sip of the blood red liquid.

"You are asking too many questions for my taste, Miss Y / L / N," said Miss Venable softly, putting her glass back on the table. And even though she kept her voice low, you could hear her indirect threat.

"To be honest, I'm amazed, that I'm the only one asking questions," you replied, trying to make eye contact with the woman next to you again, but Miss Venable's gaze was tied to the blazing fire in the fireplace and you could see a dark glint in their eyes.

"You shouldn't get involved in things that are none of your business," she said suddenly in a monotonous voice. "All over the world there are survivors and it is not your job to question my system, nobody has the right to do so. You are just one stupid survivor of many, nothing more"

You and I, we just glide

Through the night

We just drive, we get by

We just glide

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

"Oh c'mon," you moaned and ran your tousled hair.

"God must hate me".

You stood on shaky legs from the library floor, that you fell on after stumbling into the room. You brushed the dirt off your skirt and realized with gritted teeth, that it was ruined.

"Seems like someone is having a bad day," you suddenly heard a voice say and immediately your mood worsened.

You straighten up again to meet Miss Venable's eyes. The woman sat on the right of the two leather sofas and with one hand clutched her cane, which was propped on the floor.

"Fuck you", you hissed before you let yourself fall on the sofa across from her.

"Oh, someone is having a very bad day," added Miss Venable, and you didn't have to look at her to see, that she was amused by your behavior,

"Yes, my day sucks and guess what, it's all your fault," you growled and glared angrily at her stick.

"When I got up this morning and wanted to leave my room, I got stuck in the door with my blouse and the whole sleeve was torn. Did you also notice, how much you sweat in these clothes? It's really hard to go at the toilet with these clothes .. I'm sorry, but what the hell was your idea, when you decided to give us a Victorian dress code? Did you have to make our life after the apocalypse even harder ? "

You pressed angrily your lips together and screwed up your eyes.

"You are the only person who complains about it," said Miss Venable and sounded not quite as amused as a minute before. You let out a dry laugh.

"The others are too scared of you, to tell you that," you said bitterly.

"Besides, what the hell are you doing here?"

You tore your gaze away from her stick to look directly into her dark eyes.

"Why shouldn't I be here?"

"Because you're never here and you didn't look like someone who'd like to hang out with Mr. Gallant or Coco."

"Well, neither Mr. Gallant nor Miss St. Pierre Vanderbilt are here right now, right? And besides, I could ask you the same thing", Miss Venable replied indifferently and somehow she was right. It was also a rarity to see you in the library as you actually spent most of the time in your room.

"I suppose my great sadness is over now .. or as you called it 'depression'. I'm more in the mood right now, that I don't care and I am angry at everything and now you are my victim. Your lipstick is smeared by the way", you sighed, although that was actually a lie, her lipstick was perfect as always. But in fact her eyes widened slightly and you couldn't help but enjoy this view.

"You're lying," hissed Miss Venable and you had to grin.

"Maybe".

You shrugged your shoulders.

"Maybe you'd better go and see, or you risk the others seeing you ruined makeup."

It was obvious that Miss Venable was a perfectionist woman and she wasn't going to let her position of power be challenged over a smeared lipstick. On the other hand, you were an extremely bad liar and Miss Venable wasn't stupid.

"You're lying," she repeated, only with her lips pressed together, giving you the sense of achievement you wanted.

"Mhh Miss Venable," you hummed as your eyes found her stick again.

"This cane .. when I saw you for the first time, I wondered if it was just a symbol of power or if you really needed it-"

"..And then you saw me walk with it," added Miss Venable with a bitter tone in her voice.

"Oh no," you quickly shook your head.

"It wasn't your walk that gave me the confirmation that you really need the stick. It could never be your walk, you walk so majestically with that stupid thing, that even people, who don't really need a cane and only use it as an accessory would look handicapped next to you."

It was probably a rather desperate attempt to put the whole thing in a compliment and Miss Venable did not answer your words either, but you could see in the glow of the fire how her pale skin turned a light red shade and that was enough for you.

"It was your grip to be honest," you continued.

Miss Venable frowned.

"My grip?"

"Yes," you nodded and started playing with the fabric of your skirt.

"Your fingers are always clenched so tightly around the handle, as if you wanted it to break through. As if you were trying to strangle it or something like that, i dont know."

The furrow on Wilhemina's forehead only got a little wider with your words.

"You seem to spend a lot of time watching what my hands are doing," she mumbled and this time it was you, who blushed.

"It was just an observation, that I made on the side," you stammered quickly when you realized, that from one moment to the next the conversation had taken a completely wrong direction. Miss Venable did not answer again and you did not have the courage to look her face again and so the next few seconds were filled with an embarrassing silence, although you could imagine that Miss Venable was enjoying your discomfort.

"May I take a look at your cane-?" You finally asked to break the silence.

"You want to take a look at my cane?" Repeated Miss Venable, surprised with raised eyebrows.

"Only if it's okay," you said quickly.

"You are the first person, who asks me that".

Miss Venable looked thoughtfully down at her cane, which was still in her hand.

"As I said, the others are too scared of you-"

"The others don't care," Miss Venable interrupted, and you didn't know if she was sad about it or if she didn't care. But we're talking about Wilhemina Venable, she probably didn't care.

The red-haired woman sighed before holding out her stick to you.

You grinned and tried to grab the staff, but before your fingers could touch the wood, Miss Venable pulled it back again.

"How can I be sure, that you won't break it up and use it to make firewood?", She asked you and you looked at her in horror.

"I would probably be the last person to do that," you said indignantly.

"On the contrary, I think you would be the only person in this outpost who would dare to."

Miss Venable held out her stick to you again and this time she let you reach for it.

You immediately noticed how light the wood was in your hand as you carefully ran your fingers over the stick.

"What kind of wood is that?" You asked quietly without looking up from her walker.

"I guess it was blackthorn".

Your fingers moved on to the handle of the stick, which was probably the most interesting thing. A metal handle in the shape of a raven skull served as a support for the hand.

"Doesn't that hurt?".

You lifted your gaze back to Miss Venable, who obviously didn't understand what to do with your question.

"Well, if I had to support myself with all my weight on this skull, it would hurt," you added and Wilhemina just shrugged her shoulders.

"Uhm, it's a beautiful cane," you muttered, handing it back to her.

"May I ask why you need it?"

"I don't know what this should have gotten to do with you," replied Miss Venable, not sounding as nice as before. If you could call it "nice".

"Okay okay, taboo subject, I got it," you said quickly, desperately searching your head for anything to keep the conversation going.

"Do you actually enjoy it? To have control over everyone here? And know that, that almost everyone is afraid of you?", You finally asked and leaned back against the sofa.

"You asked me that a few weeks ago, when you were drunk," remarked Miss Venable, looking down at her gloved fingers, which were wrapped around her cane again.

"Really?" You asked confused.

"More or less. It was more of an accusation."

"An accusation?"

Miss Venable hummed in agreement.

"I told you, that you would be punished for your behavior and you said I would enjoy it."

"I understand," you mumbled, still staring hard at her face.

"What else happened that evening?"

A smug smile danced on Wilhemina's lips and she took a moment to consider your question.

"Well, you made fun of my name," she finally began as she drummed her fingers on the skull-like handle of her stick.

"And then you said, that I was pretty and that I should be happy about it, because other people are ugly."

Your eyes froze as her words entered your brain.

Wrong turn. Wrong turn.

"Uhm .. You know, when I'm drunk I tend to perceive things a lot more intensely than they actually are and then I exaggerate occasionally," you tried desperately to get yourself out of this situation, but Miss Venable just let out a loud laugh and you realized, that you had failed miserably. You cleared your throat briefly and sat up straight again.

"You haven't answered my question yet," you said, trying to change the subject again.

"I wanted to know, if you enjoy all of this."

"Do I enjoy it if you don't obey my rules? No, I don't enjoy that, why should I?" Miss Venable said and again had that indifferent sound in her voice. Of course you knew that she had bypassed your question and that was enough to prove, that she enjoyed her monarchy in Outpost 3.

"You said earlier, that you had got over your grief. That's good to hear," said Miss Venable, and this time she was the one who changed the subject.

"I thought you didn't care what I felt".

You smiled contentedly and cocked your head. Somehow you liked this game of mutual debunking.

"I don't care either, I just wanted to be polite."

Your smile widened when you saw her fingers clench a little tighter around her stick.

"Miss Venable and polite, I don't think this is a well-working combination," you teased her and in the glow of the fire you could see her roll her eyes.

"You were a lot less tiring, when you were crying in your room all day," she muttered disapprovingly.

Why should it be such a struggle

When it means so much to you and me?

(I trip and fall into a dream)

Built like a ship in a bottle

Gotta handle you so delicately

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

I don't know what we got

But I know what I want

The silence is killing me softly

What. The. Fuck.

When you arrived at the Outpost a few months ago, you couldn't even have imagined in your deepest dreams, that you would ever end up in this situation.

You lay on your back, still staring at the ceiling with wide eyes as you tried to stabilize your breathing. Only now did you notice, that you had your arms wrapped around your chest and that your fingernails were digging painfully into the flesh of your shoulder. Your body lay rigid in her bed and you couldn't move an inch. You desperately tried to put the things that had happened in the right order.

Was it a stupid idea to go in Miss Venable's Bedroom? Yes, definitely. In retrospect, you didn't even know what exactly you wanted there. And actually you should have disappeared, after you saw that Wilhemina hadn't even been there. But no, of course your curious ass had to inspect her entire room.

And by the time Miss Venable came out of her bathroom in her pajamas, you had already started counting in your head how many punches Miss Mead was going to give you as punishment. You had definitely crossed the line.

But it turned out very differently than expected. Miss Venable had been angry anyway, very angry, but her anger was not expressed in words. The woman had pressed you against the wall and before you could do anything about it, her hand had slipped under your skirt, between your legs and Miss Venable had broken her own rule.

Of course you could have pushed her away, but it felt so right. You wanted so badly for someone to pay you attention and Miss Venable had kind of given you just that, when she pressed you against the wall and fucked you senselessly.

The whole thing was just so emotionless. You hadn't been able to look at her. You were ashamed of every sound you made, and if Miss Venable hadn't put her hand over your mouth, everyone in the Outpost would probably have heard you scream.

Which wouldn't have been so practical, because this man had come here a few days ago and you knew he was interviewing all the residents for the sanctuary and it wouldn't have been very beneficial for you if he'd caught you, breaking you down Venables rules. Regardless of the fact, that she had broken her rule herself.

Miss Venable hadn't said a single word about what had happened a few minutes ago, as if she had absolutely no need to justify herself.

She hadn't even looked at you when she took her hands off you and wiped them with a kleenex.

"You can sleep here tonight," she had muttered.

"It would be noticeable if you left my room now."

And now you lay next to her in bed and tried to understand all of this. Your dress was messy on the floor and all you had on was your underwear. After your fingers relaxed, you had pulled the blanket, that she wordlessly gave you over you and clung desperately to the fabric.

You had calmed down and could now hear her breathing next to you. The fact, that she was just lying next to you and probably sleeping was disturbing. At least, she could have apologized, right? Although, that didn't make sense either, because you obviously enjoyed what had happened.

You carefully turned your head towards her and saw, that her back was turned to you. And you wondered if she was really sleeping or just pretending. Miss Venable had become your most private contact in the outpost and you didn't really know what that actually meant.

You wanted so badly to touch her, but you didn't know if you had the right to do so. Only now did you notice the scars on her back, that shone through the light nightgown. Add to that the snake-like curve of her spine and suddenly you understood why she needed her stick.

"You have scoliosis," you said your thoughts out loud and you heard her hold her breath.

"Congratulations," she hummed miserably.

"You figured it die out."

You nervously began to chew your lower lip.

"Did I make anything wrong?" You asked quietly.

"Ask yourself how you got into this situation, then you will know."

"I- do you want me to go?", Your voice sounded sadder than you actually wanted.

When Miss Venable didn't answer, you felt tears welling up in your eyes as the feeling of fear grew inside you. You screwed it up. Probably the next evening you would end up like Stu as stew.

"No," Miss Venable suddenly whispered before turning to you. The red-haired woman had a blank expression on her face while she watched you cry.

She raised her hand as if to wipe the tears from your face, but she lowered it again and you had to do it yourself.

"M'sorry," you muttered.

"You're stupid if you apologize," Miss Venable replied bluntly.

"That was more than just unprofessional of me, I should have let you go and tomorrow you would have been punished."

You looked at her sadly.

"That's the only solution, isn't it? Punishment."

"I don't know exactly what you're getting at? It's actually quite simple. Those are my rules and whoever doesn't stick to them will be punished for it", Miss Venable looked at you unimpressed and you returned her gaze thoughtfully.

"What about Michael Langdon? Does he have to obey your rules too?" You finally asked.

"What does this mean?"

"Uhm well, I guess I've known you for 18 months now and the first time you seem scared."

Miss Venable raised her eyebrows.

"You don't know anything about me. I'm not even remotely an emotional chaos as you are."

Emotional chaos. Okay she had a point. You blinked a few times to force the tears, that were still glistening in your eyes back down.

"I don't know if emotional chaos is the right word," you muttered.

"You should think less about your stupid feelings," Miss Venable sighed, turning away from you again.

"They've only got you in trouble so far if you ask me."

You pressed your lips together and had to suppress an angry comment, that would only confirm her accusation. Your eyes stared at her back again. The red curls of her long hair had slipped behind her shoulders and were now curling on her back. You would have loved to stretch out your hand to touch it. You would have loved to curl up in her arms to feel safe for the first time in over a year. You wanted to kiss her. Or at least hold her hand. Anything. Just a little bit of their affection would have been enough and you would have been happy. It probably all sounds kind of selfish, because she fucked you a few minutes ago. The whole thing just wasn't particularly loving. You felt like a disgusting animal and now you wanted her to show you, you weren't. Miss Venable was only a few inches away from you and all you had to do was hold out your hand and you would feel her warmth. But while it was actually only a few centimeters, you realized, that there were worlds between you and this woman and that she was probably never further away from you than at this moment.

You and I, we just glide

Through the night

We just drive, we get by

We just glide

Maybe we're just fooling in foolish imagination

Got no destination in sight

You and I, we get by

We just glide

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

Wilhemina Venable had a great talent at pretending everything was fine.

As if nothing happened. Nothing had changed in the days after that night.

Since Michael Langdon was at the Outpost, she avoided private contact with you and the fact, that you had shared a bed didn't change that. In addition, she was just as disgusting to you in front of the others as always and that was nothing new either. And while Wilhemina no longer seemed to care about what had happened between you two, at the same time it almost killed you.

You actually expected, that she would want to talk to you about it again, but nothing had happened and that made you angry. Miss Venable would always deny it, but she was the only one who cared about you. And you appreciated her weird way of paying attention to you so much.

The only problem was, you couldn't even begin to imagine, what was going on in her head. While you were acting like a lovesick teenager, the only thing you saw of her was her deadly serious face.

Oh and Miss Venable was right, you were a fucking emotional mess. Since you woke up the next morning in her empty bed, you have cried a lot again and spent a lot of time in your room, but this time Miss Venable would probably not come to offer you alcohol as medication.

It was the afternoon of any day and you were sitting on the floor, leaning against your bed. In one hand you held a pair of scissors, while in the other you held the skirt of your dress. You were still not used to wearing long skirts after so many months and you still kept poking around at yourself, when walking through the outpost, so you decided to cut your skirts short. Of course you knew, that Wilhemina would probably kill you, if she saw you, breaking her sacred dress code, but fuck Wilhemina. At least you could finally walk properly again.

The triple knock on your door made you look up from your work and you got up to go to the door. You probably should have known it was Miss Venable who knocked. Who else has been interested in you, in the past few months?

"We need to talk," said the red-haired woman firmly, without looking at you.

You just nodded and stepped out of the door frame to make room for her.

For a brief moment you were afraid, that Miss Venable would get angry about the dress, that was lying shortened on the floor next to the scissors, but she just ignored it and stood across from you.

"Well, Miss Y / L / N, I'm just here to ugh- "

Miss Venable was interrupted by you when you, you stupid idiot, reached for her face to angrily press your lips against hers. The kiss only lasted a second in total, because Miss Venable immediately pushed you away from her and the next thing you felt was her hand lashing angrily against your right cheek. A horrified gasp escaped your lips and you looked at Wilhemina in horror as you rubbed your cheek.

"If you do that again, I'll kill you," the redhead growled, glaring at you angrily.

You looked at her hurt and felt tears start to sting in your eyes.

"M'sorry," you muttered.

"Oh of course you are," hissed Miss Venable.

"What the hell were you thinking of?"

"I just- I don't know," you stuttered desperately.

"I think I love you".

Miss Venable's eyes narrowed and she looked like she was going to punch you again.

"This is not love, this is despair, you stupid thing."

"Despair?" You breathed in horror.

"How else would you describe your behavior?" She spat and angrily started knocking her stick on the floor.

"I mean, look at you. You are a total mess. Either you cry in your room all day or you are angry at everything and everyone. You are the only person, who ruins her clothes. You are the one which most often breaks my rules, just because you are too unable to deal with your feelings. You know, everyone can handle what happened, except you, because you are so damn selfish. But you have to wake up.. Do you think, that was what I wanted, when you cried into my bed a few days ago? Oh no. And I know that, was my fault too. You know, everything what I want, is that you obey my rules, but that seems to be too much for your incompetent ass ", Wilhemina scolded and angrily knocked her stick on the floor.

"And now you come and say you love me."

She shook her head.

"As I said, this is not love, this is despair. And I don't know what kind of answer you were hoping for, from me, but let me be clear: In my opinion, of all the residents of the Outpost, you are the most pathetic and I hate you, I really do and you're sick if you even thought it would be different. "

You stared at her in shock. The feeling, that rose in you at that moment was indescribable. A mixture of disgust, shame and anger. But also the feeling of betrayal. And you couldn't say who these feelings were for, for you or for Wilhemina.

"Y-you hate me?" You stuttered, wiping the back of your hand over your cheek to remove your tears.

"I hate everyone in this outpost, that includes you too," hissed Miss Venable.

You shook your head in disbelief.

"I don't believe you," you whispered.

"I still believe, that you are scared and that is why you act like that."

"Mister Langdon will interview you tomorrow," said Miss Venable without responding to your comment.

"If you tell him anything about what happened a few days ago, I promise you will wish you were never born. With your condition, you probably won't be in the sanctuary anyway, but I will don't let me spoil this opportunity from you. Do you understand me? "

You shook your head.

"I don't understand what your problem is suddenly ... I asked you that evening if I should go and you said no."

"The whole thing was a mistake, nothing more", Miss Venable growled quietly and stepped past you to go to your door.

"I hate you and you hate me, that's all that's between us, you understand?"

You wanted to say something, but you decided not to, it didn't make any sense anyway.

"I understand," you said softly.

"Good," replied Miss Venable before turning and walking out of your room.

You stared after her sadly. Of course you didn't understand why she was suddenly so mad at you, but how could you? Miss Venable had wanted to end whatever was between you, so that she would not feel guilty if you were to be murdered by her in a few days. She had never meant to offend you, but she had to make it clear to herself, that she didn't love you. She just couldn't love you.

Show me freedom

'Cause love don't cost a thing

Give me freedom

Yeah don't just let me leave

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

"Miss Y / L / N", Mister Langdon barked and slapped the table with the palm of his hand. You winced and looked disturbed into the blond man's eyes.

"I asked you something".

He leaned down to you and his face was only a few inches from yours.

"Are you in love?"

You swallowed and blinked a few times, before you whispered softly:

"I am not."

The man leaned back and looked at you thoughtfully for a few seconds.

"Well, Miss Y / L / N," he finally sighed.

"You can go."

Without looking at the man again, you got up to run out of the room. You tripped and if you hadn't held onto the wall next to the door, you would have fallen. For a moment you leaned against the wall with your eyes closed and took a deep breath.

This man was disgusting and a little too intimate for your taste, no wonder, that no one liked him.

You opened your eyes again and realized, that Miss Venable was staring down at you as she leaned against the railing.

Your eyes were lost in hers, her almost black eyes in which the light of the torches is always reflected. You wanted to say something, but you were afraid, that she would leave and you didn't want that. Miss Venable had put on her indifferent expression as always and, as always, you did not know what was going on inside the woman.

Your lips formed a mute "fuck you" when you saw her turn away from you to move. And the faint tapping of her cane proved to you, that she was indeed leaving and you knew that she would not come back.

Maybe we're just fooling in foolish imagination

Got no destination in sight

You and I, we get by

We just glide

[shewantedtobeasecretgirl]

12. Granny Out of Control a.k.a. headless chickens, Gene Simmons’ girlfriend and Rapunzel

In the previous chapters: Judy and Stone act after their embarrassing encounter in the shower as if it hadn’t even happened; they implicitly agree on not telling Mike that his one-night stand was just the consequence of Judy’s revenge-fueled rumors about Stone’s sexual preferences. Ed loses his voice so the show has to be canceled, Jeff offers to give guitar lessons to Judy instead in his spare time. Granny buys a metal magazine to learn more about Seattle-based rock bands; the picture of Pearl Jam makes her think the perfect match for Judy isn’t Jeff but Stone. Krisha picks Effie up in the city to tell her that Kelly Curtis and Susan Silver have plans with her as a photographer; she also gives her the list of codenames the band and crew members use at hotels. Effie also joins her when she feeds Stone’s unsociable cat, Red who is incompatible with all girls who try to approach him.

 „I don’t know, man… Are you sure you saw them?”

“Don’t piss me off, Schmitty, of course I’m sure. I know whom and what I saw.” I mumble as I put the flashlight back between my teeth. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Not only makes he me do this stupid act, he even drives me crazy with this weak-minded questioning in the meantime. The guy obviously watches too much TV. Especially detective shows about drug cartels.

“But let’s go over it again. Maybe you were wrong or misunderstood the situation or…”

I sigh, and take the flashlight out of my mouth only to direct the blinding ray of light in his face.

“Okay, but this is the last time. And I’m only willing to tell it again because I have nothing better to do and because technically, I can’t do anything else until we finish this. Open the bag and hold it.”

“Yes sir... so you went having a shower…”

“Not that it matters if I went showering or shitting but yes, I went to the restroom.”

“And you opened the door…” he goes on with the storytelling like a small child who already knows his favorite bedtime story by heart.

“And there were they, standing at the sinks…”

“Stop. Are you sure it was them?”

“Of course I am, I could recognize Judy and Stone from miles!”

“Are you 100 % sure?”

“No, I’m only 99 % sure because there’s a very small chance that they both have doppelgangers right in this town but let’s say I’m very likely to have seen them.” I confirm while I start portioning the green leaves into the plastic bag Schmitty is holding.

“And they were…”

“…basically naked.”

“Basically?” he asks like he’d never heard the word before.

“Yes, basically.”

“How do you mean “basically”?”

“What? I’m fucking around here with sharing my weed with you and you’re already high? Unbelievable…”

“No-no-no, seriously, man, you didn’t say “naked”, you said “basically naked”. Define the difference. It’s important.” he flails fussily.

“Stop shaking the bag, it’s difficult enough to do this only with one hand. So, uh, they weren’t completely naked, they both were wearing a towel…”

“The same towel or…?”

“Hah, interesting idea, but no, they both had their own towel on. But I assume none of them was wearing any underwear…”

“That’d be normal, I mean, after showering… but that’s the weakest point in your theory, them having a shower at the same time… it sounds so unreal.”

“Yeah, I thought the same until I found the only logical reason.”

“What? That you only dreamed the whole thing? Or that it was just an intense trip due to the shrooms Mike gave you?”

“I know it sounds unbelievable but at this point, I’m pretty much convinced they did it on purpose.” I close the bag and throw it at Schmitty who hides it immediately in the inner pocket of his jacket and pats himself on the chest satisfied.

“Thanks. But I can’t follow your thinking, Scully. Why’d they secretly meet in the shower?”

“I don’t want to shock you but… I think they had sex right before. I almost entered but then I glanced them and they were almost naked, both giggling and Judy was groping Stone and… I backed out, I was so surprised, I didn’t even know what to do…”

“But they hate each other.” Schmitty protests shaking his head.

“And? Since when can’t people who hate each other have sex with each other?”

“Man, this is too much to me, Stone has Amber at home, Judy is like a nun, they can’t stand each other so obviously, they have sex??? Bullshit, that’s all I can say. I don’t know what you saw but it definitely couldn’t be a post-coital scene.”

“Look, I don’t understand the exact reasons either but…”

“I’ve always been told that as soon as we start touring, girls will try to drag me in the tour bus all the time but I imagined it somehow different…”

We both freeze at the hearing of Stone’s smug giggling and our surprise only grows when we recognize the voice that belongs to his companion.

“Sorry for ruining your wet rock star dreams but it’s impossible here to talk to someone face-to-face, even the walls have ears in this crew.”

Schmitty and I exchange a meaningful look and to his nod, I turn the flashlight on the lowest level. Walls might not have ears here but this bunk bed curtain we’re hiding behind definitely does. Even four, to be exact.

“So what’s the purpose of this conspired, hyper-secret meeting, Camden? I’m hungry so let’s get over with this as fast as possible!”

Hungry, yeah, I can imagine. So you prefer quickies, Stoney?

“I just wanted to talk about yesterday.”

Schmitty stares at me with popped eyes, even his jaws drop of shock.

“Ha. So you were thinking about it?”

“Yes but not the way you think. I’m not gonna tell you tirades about how much I regretted it or stuff because I didn’t. I only want to ask if you talked to Scully about it?”

Schmitty grabs my forearm, digging his nails into it, his other hand is shaking uncontrollably.

“No and I don’t know why I should force it, I mean it happened, it’s embarrassing enough for both of us so let’s draw a veil over it.”

“It’s embarrassing for both of us? Do you really think I give a damn about that? I mean, okay, I lost control, which doesn’t happens really often to me but who cares, I can handle the consequences. You feeling embarrassed, now that’s the last thing I care about. But have you already thought about the feelings of your friend at least for one single second?”

We both furrow our eyebrows and her words probably found their marks since Stone doesn’t answer, which makes Judy go on with the pep talk.

“Okay, neither of us is going to say a word since we both have selfish interest in keeping it in secret but if Scully shoots his mouth off and he finds out about what happened… just think into it, it’d ruin his self-esteem. I mean, it’s inevitable that it turns out later but the best strategy is discretion. Now, it’d be too fresh for him, let’s wait until he forgets about this little… intermezzo.”

Schmitty covers his still opened mouth in complete horror and even I start feeling uncomfortable now that my intuition is basically confirmed.

“So, would you finally promise to talk to Scully?”

“Dunno… I’ll consider it.”

“Jesus Christ, Gossard, would it hurt not to piss me off once in a lifetime?”

“To answer your question, yes, it would but this time it’s not about you, Miss Fussy. I was just thinking that we should let it slide since after all, it’s not as a big deal as you think.”

You fuck her and then try to ditch her? Come on Stone, I thought you were better than this.

“I mean, you make such a fuss but I don’t think Scully would let it slip, he’s probably already forgotten about the whole scene. And if I came up with it, he’d just start overthinking it; when he knows he has to shut his mouth, he becomes gossipy all the more.”

Ha, thanks Stoney but just for the record, I don’t gossip, I just process things by discussing them with other people, see also at “coping mechanisms”…

“It’s you who’s overthinking it. Just stop protesting and do what I ask you. I even use the word “please”.”

“Fuck, okay, I’ll see what I can do, just leave me finally alone with this. Can I ask you something too?”

“It depends…”

“Could we stay here for ten… fifteen minutes? You know, it’s about my reputation…”

“Fuck off, Gossard!!!”

We both exhale with a deep sigh when we hear them leaving the bus.

“Holy. Shit.”

“Holy. Fucking. Shit. Dude, you were right!”

“Of course I was right, I always am, you just never believe me.“

“But… damn… I didn’t see that coming… Gahhh.” Schmitty facepalms, rubbing his forehead worried.

“I’m surprised, though, I thought they didn’t notice me.”

“Apparently, they did. Jesus, I doubt there’s something serious between them but now that I heard it with my own ears, it all makes sense! They hook up, they are both embarrassed since they are enemies, plus the Amber-factor… and poor Jeff, he has a massive crush on Judy and she knows it, maybe she tries to have two irons in the fire… So she convinced him to keep the fling in secret not to ruin her chances at Jeff… She looks so innocent and now she turns out to be an actual snake… Do you think Karrie knows about it?” he jabbers staring desperately in front of himself.

“Whoa, stop, dude, are you insane? She’s not a bitch, they just made a mistake and she freaked out. Her worrying about Jeff sounded genuine, after all, Stone is no perspective for her, he’s got that… he’s got Amber, whatever she is for him. And I don’t think Karrie knows anything, even if she does, she’ll pretend she doesn’t.”

“But this changes everything! Jeff is our friend too and I don’t want to lie to him.”

“Trust me, he’ll never ask “And tell me Schmitty, have Judy and Stone had sex?”, so you don’t have to.”

“You’re making fun of me but you know too how dangerous information these are so you’d better have a good idea what are we going to do know.”

“I’ll tell you, Schmitty: we’re gonna act casual. Just watch me.”

***

„There’s no chance I could reach that string. Just… no. I don’t have that muscle, I’m done.” I moan as I desperately try to stretch my pinky finger to play the next chord following Jeff’s instructions.

“Hey, relax, just reach a bit further, you’ve almost got it.” he chuckles and makes an insecure move to help me out but he changes his mind in the last moment and pretends he only wanted to scratch his arm. And I pretend not to have noticed it.

“No, it’s impossible, I can’t twist my wrist that much. I don’t have freakishly long fingers like Stone, it’s enough.” I give up and put the guitar aside. We’ve been practicing for like one hour, I played him my still rudimentary sounding song idea, of course without telling him what exactly it was. He improvised a bass line to it on his acoustic bass guitar, his fingers are still running back and forth over the strings despite the fact I stopped playing. When I was a kid, Grandpa would tell me that if you cut the head of a chicken, it can still run around for a few seconds before collapsing, maybe it’s a similar phenomenon. Or maybe it’s like when a freight train hits a car and it pushes the vehicle in front of itself for miles before stopping. Headless chickens and train wrecks, why am I thinking about stuff like these while hanging out with a nice guy?

“I’m sure you can do it if you practice it. Look, my fingers aren’t long either.” he raises his palm. Is he expecting me to measure mine to his by placing them together? Could we rather just draw them around and compare the drawings like small children? Okay, he’s got strong, manly hands, that’s not bad at all. But how can he stuff those thick fingers between the strings? And those jewelries, God, they are terrible. Would he mind if I asked him to put them off?

“No, I can’t. I’m not good at these moves, I’ve already tried to play the violin, it didn’t go well. It went awful.” I protest, rather to overtalk my racing thoughts than to argue with him. I hope he’s not going to ask me about the details, I don’t feel like telling him that story at all.

“Okay, it was you who asked me for help, so…” he shrugs with a half smile, his fingers are still nerve-wrackingly torturing the instrument.

“Actually it was you who offered to help so…”

“Fair enough. I don’t want to force it so… if you want to finish all your future performances by saying “sorry, now comes the chord which is incompatible with my wrist so go the fuck home” – then okay, I don’t care.” he puts down the guitar. I try to decode the expression on his face, is he disappointed or just casual or…?

“How do you do that?” I ask quickly, I can’t bear that look.

“What?”

“This… everything…” I flail helplessly.

“I don’t know… I think I got bored with doing nothing and wanted to try something new and I realized I could do everything instead of nothing.” he leans back with a challenging smirk.

“Geez, you spend too much time with Stone.” I roll my eyes. “I mean… I played you something and you immediately knew what to do with it. Your head is full of ideas and variations, can you hear the harmonies instinctively or…?”

“I don’t know… when I hear a melody, I start hearing the other parts in my head… but sometimes I just mess around and try different things to check if they can work as a song or as an idea that I can use later. I try to keep my ears fresh, I fight against crafting only bass lines in my head, that’s why I pick up the guitar from time to time. You know, if a bass player never leaves his comfort zone, after a while, he’ll tend to operate only with the same five or five notes, it’s like a tunnel vision… or tunnel hearing…” he ends his explanation with a shrug and a lopsided smile, as far as I’ve observed, he does that pretty often.

“That’s amazing… I envy you so much. I’ve been studying and playing music for as long as I can remember but I’ve never felt that… sense of liberty? I practiced my ass off, I learned everything I could, at Juilliard, we basically dissected classical musical pieces into single notes and… I developed some weird perfectionism in the meantime, I know how good music is supposed to be composed but… I myself just can’t do it. I was so busy with studying other people’s works that I couldn’t develop the ability to create something, it’s like… my knowledge paralyzed my creativity… Or that’s just what I keep telling myself because I1m not willing to accept the fact that writing music is a gift you can’t just earn by practicing and learning…”

“Maybe you’re right.” he shrugs again and his reaction somehow hits me hard; I don’t know why, though. “I think I’ve already mentioned you that I took piano lessons but I hated it. I found literally nothing intriguing in it, it was boring, I’ve never been into Beethoven or some shit like that.”

“What?” I frown. I didn’t expect him to like the same things I do but… could he just show at least a little interest in what I like? I even talked about art and skateboarding with him. Okay, he doesn’t owe me anything, we’re not dating and all but if he ever wants something from me… okay, he probably doesn’t, it was obviously just a stupid gossip.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to trash your music, it’s just not for me, I appreciate it but I don’t like it. I’m just a Montanan jerk, did you forget?”

“You’re not a jerk, don’t say that… I’m just… nothing, forget it.”

“No, if you want to say something, don’t swallow it. Did I hurt you?”

“You didn’t… I’ve just spent my entire life playing classical music so I can’t imagine how someone is able not to like it at all.”

“Same here with sports.”

“God, I hate sports!” I exclaim and I immediately begin to laugh realizing I’m not better than him either.

“You see? But speaking of your music studies, there’s one thing I’ve always wanted to ask.”

“No.”

“No what? Am I not allowed to ask the question?”

“No is the answer to the question.”

“But I haven’t even…”

“Trust me, it’s no.”

“If you say so…”

“I’m just kidding. Most people attack me when they learn I’m a musician asking if I’d sing or play something for them, it’s so annoying, it’s like the “grunge question’ of classical musicians…”

“Okay, I get it.” he smiles. “But that’s not what I was about to ask.”

“Thank God. So, I guess you don’t want me to teach you reading sheet music either, because that’s usually the second question, which is usually asked by people with no musical hearing at all...”

“No, it’s more of a… personal one.” he hesitates squinting at me for the final permission.

“Hit me.”

“Why are you here?”

“Here? Like, here and now, with you or…?”

“No, I mean, why are you here, with the band? You graduated from one of the most prestigious music schools on Earth, you could conduct top choirs or whatever… and you’re here, loading our shitty van every single night, smelling sweat and cigarette smoke, spending days in a tour bus with beer drinking ugly dudes… Why? I guess Juilliard graduates can pick whatever job offer they want so...”

“I’m here for the money.” I answer without thinking and it immediately sounds false. Am I? Really? “I came here for the money, I don’t deny it, I had no job and however terrified I was, something told me I had to take this opportunity.”

“But… as a classical musician trained at Juilliard… why this job? I just can’t get it.”

“Well… I’ve known for a very long time that the music of baroque era is in which I’m the most interested. It’s, you know, a passion to me, it’s like punk was to you. And if you want to be really good at it, you have to go to the place where it comes from. Here in the States, you can basically hear nothing that was written before Mozart.”

“Europe?”

“Exactly. So in my senior year, I applied for a scholarship of the music academy in Leipzig.”

“And…?”

“And I won it.”

“So you studied in Europe too?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because my father died a few months before I graduated and the small firm he ran died with him… it was a very complicated period so I asked the academy if I could postpone it by one year.”

He’s chewing his lower lip and speaks up only after digesting for a few seconds what he’s just heard.

“And they refused your application?”

“No, they sent me a kind acceptation letter in which they cited their scholarship regulation that said postponement is allowed once. So I moved back to Seattle and started teaching.”

“Oh. I guess something came up one year later too.”

“Well yeah, my sister’s almost dying, that came up.”

He exhales with a deep sigh, I have the feeling he already knew all the details, he just couldn’t do the math. Maybe Karrie told him our family saga. I don’t mind, though, I don’t feel like telling him those stories either…

“Well, that’s a lot… but it also sounds like… you gave up your dreams.”

Now it’s me who can’t do anything else but shrug.

“Maybe… or maybe, it was just a warning from the universe. I’m not religious but I do believe that everything happens with a reason, maybe you can’t find it out ever because it’s something bigger than you or your shitty little life. My family needed me and they still do, or at least they need my two hands I can make money with so… plus, I’ve always been terrified of performing. I have worst stage fright, I doubt I would be able to conduct in the spotlight of the world’s biggest concert halls… anyways… have you ever heard about famous, female conductors?”

“Normally, I’d say you’re a coward and you should follow your dreams but I understand the family factor, of course. And I don’t want to act like a hypocrite either, I could have looked for another graphic design program too when mine was canceled in Missula.”

“But changed your dream instead.”

“Exactly. And maybe that’s what you should do too if universe or God or Buddha or the spirit of Johann Sebastian Bach is trying to message you that you picked the wrong dream.”

“Are you trying to say I should switch my brain to believe loading shitty vans and smelling Scully’s and Schmitty’s stinky feet is my real dream?” I giggle.

“If that’s your way, than go for it, girl!” he plays the overly enthusiastic motivational trainer. We crack up but none of us is laughing heartfelt. His face finds finally rest in a genuine, encouraging smile. “Let’s raise our glasses to the new dreams!”

We both reach our hands to clink our imaginary glasses.

“To the new dreams!”

***

I’ve been on the road with them for days and nothing. Not a single move or a sound that’d confirm we’re following the right traces. And I’m thirsty. So thirsty. But they are so envious, I know they are hiding spare water in their stupid spacesuits or what but they claim they have nothing to share. Sure. I would never drink recycled pee, anyway. But those two moons look pretty cool, the night sky compensates me for every inconvenience I’ve experienced since we started chasing that gross sandworm… everything for the melange…

However important my mission is, it gets interrupted by three quick, impatient knocks on the door.

“You’ve been shitting in there for forty-two minutes! I know you’ve finished and you’re just reading! I have to pee! Get the fuck out of there! Why do you have to do this all the time?”

Maybe because this is the only place where I can have some progress with my current reading undisturbed? I reluctantly close the hardcover volume of Frank Herbert’s Dune and glance lazily at my wristwatch.

“First of all, it’s been only forty minutes. Second, it’s shorter than a blink of an eye, if you measure it in cosmic time. Not even applicable.”

“Okay, I can use astronomical metaphors too. My bladder is a red giant that is about to explode so…”

“I’m coming, I’m coming, geez, urinary incontinence? You should see a urologist.” I remark opening the door. He basically tosses me out of is his way and almost slams it on my nose.

“It’s rather you who should see a doctor, fuck, Stone, what did you eat? Uuugh, I’m dying.” I hear his muffled indignation.

I lie down on my bed and stuff the pillow under my nape. I turn the pages back and forth for a few times until find the place where I was before Mike kicked me out. So, back to those goddamn pervert Fremen fuckers…

I barely manage to read a few lines, when Mike comes back and throws himself on his bed, unmuting the TV that is showing underdressed ladies caressing their own body and telling their erotic fantasies in seductive voice. I clear my throat. No reaction. I do it again, this time longer and louder. Nothing.

“Sorry, am I bothering?” I ask sharply but our guitarist seems to be completely immersed in the curves. “Okay, busted. I know you only went to the toilet to jerk off. You only watch Playboy TV and noname porn channels, you really need to get laid.”

“Done, last night. Remember?” he answers slowly and mindlessly, his eyes are still glued to the screen.

“No, because I wasn’t there, thank God.”

“You’re just envious because you have to practice celibacy, otherwise Amber would cut your balls off.”

I squint at the girls over my book.

“Not that I feel tempted. Jesus, I’m sick of these… udders…”

“Hey, watch your mouth! Those ladies deserve more respect! Especially her!” he points at the blonde, blue-eyed, busty woman on the screen who is dropping her lingerie standing at a bath tub.

“Why, who is she?” I look back at the text in front of me, not that I understand a word of it. Since I receive no answer I turn my head towards Mike only to see he sat up in the meantime and stares at me offended. “What? I have no idea.”

“That’s Shannon Tweed!!!” he flails outraged.

“… who is…?”

“Who is a goddess, Playmate of the Year in 1982 and last but not least, the girlfriend of Gene Simmons!”

“Oh. So she’s old as dirt.” I summarize laconically.

“Stone, what’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with her? What’s wrong with big boobs? I thought you liked them… I mean, you are the guy who’s entitled to do anything with Seattle’s most spectacular pair of bosoms so…”

“Hey, you’re talking about my girlfriend!” I grunt.

“I’m talking about your girlfriend’s tits!”

“Exactly, that’s it! Don’t talk about my girlfriend’s tits! Anyway, how do you know what they look like?”

“Hey, first, I’m only talking about them. It’s called freedom of speech, First Amendment…”

“What the fuck, parts of the Constitution are printed now on beer tags or did I miss something?”

“…second, it is very difficult not to know what they look like, they basically poke your eyes out!”

“Only talking, ‘course.”

“Certain female anatomical features attract men’s eyes, it’s in our genetic code. Don’t even try to make me believe those features had nothing to do with you ending up with her. Wait!” he exclaims with a finger snapping. “Oh, I get it already. You miss her! That’s why you can’t stand the playmates on TV! But you could have said, it’s not a shame…”

“Dr. ‘Cready, expert of constitutional law and anatomy, psychotherapist. I’ve just said I don’t feel tempted…”

“Because those boobs” he points at the screen “are forbidden fruit and remind you of those boobs in Seattle.”

“You’re pointing in the wrong direction, Michael. You’re pointing at boobs in Indiana.”

“Whatever. You miss her, admit it. My boobies are over the ocean, my boobies are over the sea…”

“Stop!”

“My boobies are over the ocean so bring back my boobies to me…”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“BRING BAAACK, BRING BAAACK, BRING BACK MY BOOBIES TO ME, TO MEEEE!”

“I’m only saying that even huge breasts can be boring after a while.” I overshout his off-key singing.

Mike suddenly stops singing and just blinks at me completely frozen.

“You mean… you want to leave Amber?”

“Jesus, what did I do to deserve this?” I bury my face in my hands. “I mean… imagine your favorite food!”

“But that’s… risotto…?”

“Perfect!”

“But risotto doesn’t look like boobs!”

“Jesus, of course not, just imagine it!”

“Okay. Mmmh, it looks delicious. I can even feel its smell.” he moans with closed eyes.

“So you want to eat risotto now, right?”

“Oh yeah, I want it more than anything.”

“And if you could… or had to eat risotto every single day, would you feel the same?”

“Uhm, probably… not.” he opens his eyes.

“And here we are. If you’re in the position where you can play with huge breasts every day, it’s not such a big deal anymore.”

“Hm, makes sense…” he lies back. “But wait!” he sits up quickly again.

“What?”

“In that case, risotto wouldn’t be my favorite food anymore.”

“Yeah, probably…”

Congrats Sherlock. I drop my book on the nightstand, by now, I basically gave up all hope for finishing the chapter I was reading.

“But that means that you prefer small boobs now!”

“I didn’t say that but obviously, smaller tits have their appeal too. And there are girls who would look ridiculous with big breasts.”

My mind begins to wander involuntarily… Yeah, Amber is a bombshell and she drives me crazy whenever she’s around but I’ve always had a thing for more fragile looking girls…

“Who are you thinking about?” Mike asks greedily like a curious puppy.

“Jesus, no one.” I scoff frowning. “I mean, very slim girls look better with… proportionate breasts, you know, like small apples…”

I catch myself cupping my hands, what the hell, am I honking imaginable tits in the air? Okay, I have to talk to Eric to fly Amber here, I’m going to put an end to this, I’m pathetic.

“Say an example!”

What? I don’t know whom I was thinking about, I don’t even know if I was thinking about an existing person, maybe I was just fantasizing about freaky phantom breasts, I couldn’t even see them, it was just a desirable cleavage… and round hips… and shapely thighs…

“I can’t!”

“Just say an example, I don’t know, someone famous who looks like that, or someone who we both know…”

“Kylie Minogue?” I groan in agony. Hopefully I satisfied Mike’s need for a new protagonist for his erotic dreams because he only nods with an appreciative pout.

The ringing of the phone on the bedside between us interrupts our intellectual conversation and we both stare at the device surprised and confused for a few seconds, it’s usually us who call family members and friends, not the other way around. Finally, I decide to pick up.

“It’s Stone.”

“…” No one answers but I can hear some indistinct noises coming from the other end of the line.

“Hello… who’s that? Wo am I talking to?” I ask, and Mike pulls closer to the speaker of the receiver too.

“Ah… excuse me… I must have dialed the wrong number… you’re obviously not the Notre Dame Hunchbach…” an old female voice answers.

What the hell? Is this a prank call? Old people make phone pranks too?

“Who?” I mouth to Mike who mouths “Judy” as a response. Ah, yes. She also chose a codename, not that anyone is interested in her. “You’re talking to Dr. Hugh Jeego, but who am I talking to?”

“Ah, you must be Mr. Gossard. I’m Mrs. Albertson, Judy’s grandma.”

I almost drop the receiver.

“Ugh… uhm… hi, Mrs. Albertson, it’s nice to meet you… I mean, even if not in person but… I guess you wanted to call Judy so…” I make an attempt to finish this awkward intermezzo but she cuts me off.

“Actually, I am glad that I can talk with my Judy’s new colleague, this job is so different in comparison to what she worked earlier, you know, she taught in a school…”

“Yeah, I know…”

“…and now she’s with a rock band, and there are so many rumors about musicians, they drink and do drugs and…”

“We… we don’t drink… that much… not before shows…” I answer and Mike nods approvingly opening a beer can with a loud fizz. “… and we prefer herbs…”

“And mushrooms…” Mike adds.

“Shut up, you ruin everything!” I hiss between my teeth while I cover the microphone with my palm.

“Who was that?”

“It was… it was Mike, our lead guitarist.”

“Ah, Mr. McCready!”

Mike pats his chest proudly.

“Exactly, Mr. McCready…” I flip him the bird.

“I hope my Judy takes care of herself, she tends to become obsessed with work, she even forgets to eat… does she eat properly?”

“I’ve… I’ve seen her eating… so I guess she does…” I try to reassure her but I’m afraid I don’t sound very convincing; after all, the eating habits of Miss Smarty Pants don’t belong to my main interests.

“I wish she ate more, she’s so skinny, isn’t she?”

“She is… I mean, she’s slim. But like… not too slim. Her body is proportionate… I mean, physically, anatomically… her shape is feminine…  and when I say “feminine” I mean she’s not malnourished…” I babble and the small apple tits appear in front of my eyes again, Jesus, I’ve started losing my sanity… For some reason, Mike feels necessary to grab the receiver and yell a gratuitous, cheesy tirade into it.

“My learned colleague is trying to say that she’s a very pretty young lady, with all the respect, of course. She’s the most virtuous girl I know, she behaves well, you can be proud of her, Mrs. Albertson.”

Yes, Mrs. Albertson, exactly, your grandchild behaves well, she brought condoms only enough for a whole fuckin’ football team, safety first… I snatch the receiver out of Mike’s hand and lift it back to my ear but before I could finally get rid of the old lady, the TV catches my attention. While we were listening to the phone call, the harmless playmate fantasies ended and the channel started airing hardcore porn. And either was the petting part very short or it didn’t even exist since the “characters” are pretty much in the middle of things and before we could react anything to avoid the disaster, the actress starts screaming rhythmically.

“What was that noise? Are women with you too?” the old woman inquires suspiciously.

“Turn down the volume, for fuck’s sake!!!” I scream-whisper to Mike.

“No, we’re alone, Mrs. Albertson… we’re just watching TV… Murder She Wrote, someone is being killed!” Mike improvises aggressively poking the remote. “It’s not working…” he groans with a miserable expression.

“Oh, I like that show… which episode? Maybe I turn on the TV to watch it too...”

If you knew… In the meantime the man starts moaning too so the obvious noises grow even louder.

“Oh, the murderer is being killed too!” I try to win some time for Mike, I admit, it wasn’t the most creative lie I’ve ever said…

“I’m saying it’s not working, it must be contact failure or low battery…” he explains beating the remote against his palm at full strength, creating a counterpart to the sound of the bodies snapping against each other on the screen.

“It’s the episode about the slasher.” I maintain the conversation and then address Mike again. “Then use the power button on the TV device or throw it the fuck out of the window, I don’t care, just do something!!!”

“Ah, great idea!” his face lights up and finally, he walks to the TV and turns it off. I swear, I thought for a second he was going to choose the window version, like Keith Moon. I’m sure he was considering it but found the box too heavy.

“It’s over…“ I transmit to Mrs. Albertson.

“It ended with a cliffhanger, what a shame…” Mike remarks and I can barely suppress my snorts.

“I hope for a happy ending…” I grin, Mike presses his pillow against his face, while the poor lady obviously doesn’t even know what to say. After a few seconds of silent, body-shaking laughter, he rearranges his face muscles and takes the receiver away from me.

“It was a pleasure to meet to you, Mrs. Albertson. Judy is a great girl and as far as we know, Effie too, please, hug her for us. I hope we can meet you in person too, when we get back.”

“I admit, I’m relieved, I want you to know I think you are just darling guys. And now, I call the Notre Dame Hunchbach, as I intended to. Goodnight, Mr. Gossard, Mr. McCready.”

“Goodnight, Mrs. Albertson.” we sing in unison.

After I hang up the phone, we stare at each other silently for long moments, before we burst out laughing hysterically.

***

Great. She’s late. She promised she’d be waiting for me at the bar counter at 9 p.m. I’m doing the third circle in this goddamn place and she’s nowhere to be found. Okay, RCKNDY is actually my favorite place and I was happy when Krisha offered to meet me here to unveil Kelly’s and Susan’s “great idea” about which I only know at this moment that it concerns my photos. The cigarette smoke irritates my throat and some unknown band is in the middle of sound check on the stage, the indistinct guitar noises and the female lead singer’s instructions blast at random moments from the speakers causing me mild heart attack every single time and making the crowd members overyell them. Despite the early hour, the place is packed; I can barely struggle through the mass of flannel-wearing guys and girls. Early hour… what am I talking… now that my lifestyle converges on clinical death, both metaphorically and literally, I usually spend my evenings in front of the TV wearing my pajamas. It’s good Krisha picked this day, Mom is working at that new side job again so I didn’t have to make anything up to prevent her from asking suspicious questions.

I visited the restroom to kill some time but it just made me frustrated all the more since I involuntarily became the audience of a bunch of girls, one of them was gushing about the kissing skills of her current crush… gah, I can’t believe I turned into this sour bitch, just because I’ll end up as a spinster, she’s entitled to have some fun…

Almost fifteen minutes have passed by and she still hasn’t shown up yet. I can’t hang out with Victor either, he’s helping with putting the finishing touches at the sound check. I guess I have to wait then. I pick a bar stool and try to decipher the list of beverages on the wall.

“What can I get for you?” a red-haired bartender girl asks. Her question catches me off-guard, since my good old answer “beer” hasn’t been an option for a while and I didn’t have enough time to consider the alternatives. She’s chewing gum with a bored face, reminding me of a ruminant… a hot ruminant.

“Uhm… I… ugh, I haven’t…” I jabber and she reacts with an impatient eyeroll, the countless bracelets are clinking around her wrist as she runs her fingers through her red mane.

“I’d like to have a virgin mojito.” I utter the first thing that comes to mind. She acknowledges my choice with a scornful scoff… Yeah, in case I haven’t felt embarrassed enough yet, she makes obvious that she’s the sexy and cool femme fatale and I’m a straight-edge cripple in a boring, worn, brown jacket.

“Hey, here you are!” someone grabs my shoulders.

“Me? I’ve been waiting for you for like… hours?” I frown while Krisha settles down on the bar stool next to me and places her beer on the counter.

“Gosh, sorry!” her eyes pop as she checks her wristwatch. “I arrived too early and went to the executive office to meet a few friends.” she points at some people talking in front of a door that probably belongs to the office rooms. “That’s Alex, he runs this place, he’s a good friend of Stone, by the way. And that girl next to him works here too, she’s the girlfriend of Regan.”

I observe the girl she’s talking about, she has a nice, bright smile. Fantastic. Krisha knows everyone here… and I have no idea who these people are, and by the way, I’m nobody.

“Regan?” I furrow my eyebrows. “It’s a unique name, I swear I’ve heard it but I can’t place it…”

“He’s also an old friend of mine. And of Stone of course. You might know his name because he played in Malfunkshun with Andy. I mean Andy Wood.”

“Wood.” we say the name at once. “Of course I know his name, I didn’t grow up in a cave…” I explain, maybe in a sharper tone than intended.

“Oookay… “ she raises both hands defensively. “Actually, Regan almost became the drummer of Mother Love Bone, until they replaced him with Greg Gilmore. They made Stone fire him, I was thinking “okay, that’s it, he’s gonna hate us forever” but somehow, he managed to convince him by using logical reasons. If you ever want to fire a drummer, just call him because he’s your guy.” she nods meaningfully and takes a sip of her beer.

“Based on my sister’s opinion, drummers probably leave the band willingly, after having spent some time with him.” I remark dryly. “Thank you.” I reach for my drink and slide the money towards the phlegmatic redhead. I suppress a smile when I see her realizing with disappointed face that I spared the tip. What was she thinking, seriously?

“Oh yes, I forgot your sister and you sew Stone-shaped voodoo dolls in your spare time. By the way, Regan has played with a guy called Shawn for a few years, he’s a huge talent. The dude is a Prince-freak, which is somehow odd in a city where you can’t make a single step without stomping on a distortion pedal but he’s an awesome singer. AND they are planning to jam with Stone as soon as he gets back. I can give you the address of their rehearsal room in case you want to assassinate him…”

“No, thanks, I already know where he lives so…”

“Right!” she slaps herself in the forehead.

“Anyway, can I finally learn why we’re here?”

“Soon. We’re waiting for someone… I’m going to introduce you to someone… who has a job offer for you!”

“Wow… let me guess… healthcare branch has discovered me and they want me to be the face of some firm’s dialyzer portfolio?” I squint at her as I loudly slurp my cocktail.

“Damn, you nailed it!” she bangs her fist against the counter. “Anyway, I’m not going to tell you anything until she arrives, you need to be punished for the self-deprecating joke.”

“Spank me…” I mumble but my retort stays unnoticed since Krisha stares in an indefinite direction next to me sending an enthusiastic wave towards someone.

“Look, Jer is here too.” she points at the target of her smile and I follow her gaze only to recognize Jerry Cantrell… he’s wearing black jeans and a black leather jacket with a white tee.

“Wait… didn’t… didn’t you mention… I mean, you dated, didn’t you?” I ask confused, trying to form coherent sentences. It’s not going well.

“Yeah, we did.” she wiggles her eyebrows.

“But exes are supposed to hate each other…” I try not to turn around too obviously, so I remove a non-existing hair from the shoulder part of my jacket. While he’s slowly walking through the crowd, I notice he’s holding hands with a long, brown-haired girl. She has a perfect body and she’s probably completely aware of it since the tight leather pants highlight every curves of her. Sure, a 10/10 chick for a 10/10 guy, that’s how world has always worked… His hair is let down… I catch myself smiling, Dad insisted on calling him Rapunzel…

“It was just a summer fling and we realized after a few dates that we weren’t made for each other. So no one got hurt.” she shrugs. “Anyway, we share the building with the management of Alice in Chains so we knew we would run into each other all the time. The music scene of this city it’s like a big, incestuous family so…”

We both crack up.

“Oh no…” she sighs annoyed, staring over me again. I don’t know what’s going on in her head but it must have to do something with another twenty-eight people I’ve never met. “DON’T TURN AROUND!” she yells at me when I try to check the cause of her reaction.

“Why, what’s…?”

“It’s too late, I guess she’s already noticed us… or hasn’t she? Bow your head…” she leans on the counter, letting her hair cover her face.

“What the fuck?”

“I said bow your head… avoid eye contact… shit, I don’t have the nerves for this right now…”

“Krisha? Oh my god, it’s you, I haven’t seen you for ages!” I hear a powerful female voice from behind my back.

“Oh, hi Amber, it’s nice to see you!” Krisha groans with a painful smile, lifting her head and letting herself be pulled in a half-embrace resigned. I have to bite my lips to prevent myself from giggling since she sends a cross-eyed grimace to me over the girl’s shoulder. So she must be Stone’s Amber.

“Hey, are you here with your little friend?”

And that must be me. I involuntarily straighten up as much as I can but despite the high bar stool, I’m still shorter than her in her heels. I wonder if Red peed into these ones too… Now that I’m checking her out properly, I realize somehow she doesn’t belong here. Mini dress, heels, perfect makeup… That’d be Stone’s type?

“Uhm, this is Effie, she’s the sister of the band’s new monitor engineer…”

“Ah, Julie, you see, I know everything…” she knocks on his temple with her index finger a few times. “I’m Stoney’s girlfriend.” she grabs my hand and shakes it aggressively. I don’t correct her, I just exchange a quick look with Krisha, her eyes confirm that it wouldn’t make sense anyway.

“And… are you going to stay for the gig too?” Krisha nods towards the stage after a few moments of awkward silence.

“Oh, no, I’m going partying with my girls, I just checked in, I wanted to say hi to Alex and ask him for a favor. We’re organizing a grunge-themed fashion show and this place would be a perfect place for it.”

“A what?”

Krisha’s face radiates shock and disgust at the same time.

“You know, this grunge thing is blowing up, the firm is about to launch a collection, you know, flannel shirts, jackets, shorts with leggings, so we’re looking for a grungy place to present it…” she explains with huge hand moves. As she begins to explain the details of her brilliant idea, I get immediately distracted. Not only because my mind is desperately trying to ignore this nonsense but because I spot Leather Pants Chick at the same sport were Alex and his colleague were standing a few minutes ago. Only a few seconds pass by until her partner arrives too, he immediately pulls her closer by her hips as he leans against the wall… they engage into a make-out session without hesitation. Jerry digs his fingers into her hair and as things are getting more intense, his hands slowly wander along her back until they reach and firmly grab their destination…

I swear it wasn’t so hot in here when I arrived, I can feel my face is burning, I’m sweating like I was in hell… Yeah, being forced to watch a hot guy smooching with a girl who isn’t you but in exchange, is much prettier than you, that’s how I imagine the first circle of hell. I can barely peel myself out of my jacket, my elbow gets stuck when Amber grabs its sleeve. I’m still a little dazed-off and stare at her expressionlessly while I’m trying to pick up the threads of conversation.

“...exactly like this one, thrift clothes are so trendy now, where did you get this one?”

She shakes the sleeve of my jacket impatiently, making me realize that’s what she’s talking about. Should I tell her the truth? That it’s not from a thrift shop, that it’s original, that Judy and I pooled the money we earned at our summer jobs together and made an agreement about taking turns on wearing it six years ago?

“I can’t… can’t remember…” I manage an effortless answer.

“You have a great taste, we three should do a thrift store tour together.” she rants on.

“Totally.” Krisha tries to seem enthusiastic but she rather reminds me of a snarling serial killer.

“Okay, I have to go, oh my god, I’m late and I haven’t even talked to Alex. We could hang out in the city next week, call me, Krish! And bring your new friend too!” she winks at me. “See you, later girls!” she finally leaves us alone, the quick tapping of heels echoes in my head even after she has disappeared behind the office door. Krisha grabs her glass and drinks its content for one sip.

“Ah, I feel much better now.” she sighs. “I’m afraid my phone is about to die. I may not be able to make phone calls for a while.”

I snort into my drink.

“I must say, she’s not the girl I’d imagine as Stone’s girlfriend.”

“Trust me, she’s not the girl whom anyone would imagine as his girlfriend. But seeing them together is always like a free circus ticket, it’s pretty funny, especially when you have coke and popcorn too.”

“Sooo… where’s the mysterious person who we’re waiting for?” I look around, although I have no clue what physical characteristics I should look for, I don’t even know if we’re talking about a man or a woman. As my gaze slowly wanders around the room, I admit to myself unwillingly, that I exactly know what I’m looking for. Long, blonde hair, black leather jacket and a white shirt. The realization makes me blush, I feel like in those good old high school days, trying to casually encounter my current crush who doesn’t even know I exist. Why am I like this all the time? Why? I’m such an idiot…

“Okay, I check Alex’s office, maybe we misunderstood each other and she went in without me noticing her. And I’m sure Alex needs some spiritual support too, the recovery will be tough for him. Do you wanna come?”

“No, I… I’d rather wait here.” I answer quickly, flushing, I’m stupid, stupid, stupid… “So it’s a she?” I shout after Krisha but she just waves me off laughing.

So… what was I thinking? I could have join her and meet her cool friends but I chose to drink here alone, not that I don’t feel lonely enough. And I ran out of drink in the meantime too… I want to procrastinate the next round until the other, friendlier bartender shows up again but unfortunately, the red-haired demon spots my empty glass and elbows on the counter opposite me with a challenging, patronizing smile.

“May I bring you a next lemonade?”

I’m about to snap back but a pleasant male voice over my head makes me change my mind.

“One more of this, whatever it is. And the lady is my guest.”

[concussed-to-pieces]

To Tell You The Truth Part Nine

Fandom: Prospect [2018]

Pairing: Ezra/Prospector!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Full tilt part two, the Tiltening. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @renegademustelid @wrestlingfae @zombiexbody @sporadic-fics @rzrcrst @lackofhonor @the-feckless-wonder @arrowswithwifi @fioccodineveautunnale @absurdthirst @cryptkeepersoul @fleetwoodmactshirt @88dragon06 @roxypeanut @walkerchick007 @peggers-n-beggers @robbinholland @chrisbostonevans @cinewhore @sarcasmisakindofmagic @phenomenaaa

(I’m hoping the tags work, but we’re getting back into the area of browser crashing D: I apologize! )

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

 "I did not realize that I would cause you to swoon." Ezra's voice sounded miles away. You moaned softly, feeling a hand stroke your forehead. "Peace. Be still, gentle soul. Did I urge you on with ill-advised fervor…?"

"No way." You croaked, forcing your heavy eyes open. You could still feel your core flexing, inner walls thrumming with aftershocks. "That was incredible." You continued dazedly. "Hi. Wow."

He smiled down at you, his blatant relief warming your entire body. "So you were insensible for good reason, then. In which case, I'm enthralled." You moved to try and sit up, but Ezra shook his head. His hand trailed down over your abdomen, coming to rest on the scar from Inumon's bayonet. He simply rubbed his fingers back and forth over the skin, his eyes distant with thought. He was uncharacteristically silent and you swallowed hard, trying to muster up the courage to speak.

"It feels like it's from another lifetime." You murmured finally. His gaze snapped up to your face, perplexing you with the sheer depth of the sorrow that you glimpsed there. "The whole Green is...it seems so far away now, I guess." Uncertainty settled in the longer Ezra just stared. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing! Nothing is wrong, gentle soul. I regret to inform you that I tend towards the ruminative these days. One of my many character flaws, amplified by the current safety and stability we luxuriate in." He tried to brush off your concern, but his fingers trembled where they touched you. 

You carefully covered his hand with your own, lacing your fingers through his after a moment. "You're thinking so hard that I can hear it." You teased softly as you managed to scoot into an upright position. 

Ezra looked away guiltily, his thumb rubbing over the back of your knuckles. He seized the glass of water that was on his nightstand (had he panicked and fetched it while you were coming back around?), passing it to you as if he was an improvisational actor buying himself time with a well-placed stage prop. 

You obligingly took several sips while he collected himself, somewhat bolstered by the fact that he of all people was on uncertain footing.

"I am not a gentle man by nature," Ezra admitted finally, his voice ragged, "and I fear that in my eagerness, I may...I do not desire to harm you as you have been harmed in the past. I am not used to...I am...indelicate." He muttered, his thoughts clearly in disarray. "I'm at a loss. What do I do?"

"Can I at least see you?" You requested a bit shyly. Instead of panicky trepidation, excitement and arousal knotted in your stomach. You wanted this, you wanted to see.

"I can't refuse such an innocuous request, even if I fear the outcome." Ezra's hands moved to undo the button on his jeans, then stilled on his thighs before he could complete the task. "To be entirely candid with you, gentle soul, to...to tell you the truth, as I rarely have in my life, as one battered floater to another, I…" He paused, leaning towards you on the bed. His hands cupped your face, tilting your head slightly so he could kiss you again. 

"Are you alright?" You whispered against his lips. 

His exhale sounded suspiciously like a sob. "You'll have to forgive me if I seem pensive. I bandy with demons both in my mind and without." 

"Ezra…" you sighed, slipping your hands up into his hair.

"I would gladly perish to keep you safe from ever being harmed again. I know that with an ugly, ironclad certainty." Ezra said quietly. "But if I am the one who causes that hurt, if I am the aggressor…you must see the dilemma that dogs my footsteps, gentle soul."

"I want this. I want you."

"And when you do not want me? A man like myself does not touch beauty for long, gentle soul. Such wondrous things have slipped through my fingers time and again." He chuckled, but there was no humor in the sound. "With good reason, I will never deny. I am not a man deserving of earthly delights. I would rather I display what I promised to you. Namely, selfless ministrations, and I shall not muddy the proverbial waters with my own tepid affections."

Your heart broke at his outward nonchalance, at the acceptance in his words. He believed what he said, and that might have been the worst part of hearing him speak. You could understand why he would feel this way, for all that it made your heart sink. "Okay." You nodded, catching his wrists before he could pull away. "I get it."

He quirked a brow at you, flexing his hands pointedly in your grip. "Oh? Dare I ask what has led you to such a confident statement?"

You didn't reply, tugging his arm to drag him down to the bedspread with you. Ezra went willingly, though he was still visibly confused. You tucked him into your side and a moment after you released his hands, his warm palm slid across your stomach. You hummed low in your throat, flicking him in the arm. He halted, his forehead furrowing and hand going still. You brought your own palm to rest on his chest, fingers swirling around his right nipple. Ezra bit his lip, nervously shifting his weight as you simply drew a circle over and over again. 

The motion was soothing in its repetition and you slowly, slowly felt Ezra stop thinking so much, as strange as that was to say. His shoulders relaxed, fraction by fraction, even as his cock pushed insistently against your hip through his jeans. "You don't have to believe me, at least not right away." You began lightly. "I know you're worried, and that worry is important. I'm not great with words, so I hope I'll be able to...kind of get you to understand."

Ezra nodded drowsily.

"So you're a good prospector, right? Scouting digs, working with a team, mining…" you ticked the list off on your fingers, making him chuckle. 

"Survival took precedence, gentle soul. I wanted to eat, so I became a prospector. Many do. I'm not certain I follow your intellectual trail."

"You're so impatient, let me finish." You scolded, laughing when he kissed your knuckles in apology. "How good were you at actually mining, though? As in, what job did you have?"

"Before the last mutiny I was granted the illustrious position of 'dig surgeon', if that gives you any indication of my skill level." Ezra informed you, actually sounding genuinely proud. "I was responsible for the salvaging and refinin' of many different materials from a young age; took to it like a fish to water even though everyone always complained about it bein' tedious or 'grunt work'. I've always been fond of workin' with my hands, you see, for all my palavering."

"So you've harvested a lot of really important resources, yeah? Learned how to be patient? Learned when you needed delicacy?" You could almost sense the moment your point seemed to dawn on him, but you kept talking. "How many aurelac pulls have you ruined in your career? Y'know, if you had to estimate."

"Only one." Ezra answered you quietly. "My first attempt. I was unsteady with the blade. After that, I...I braced. My foreman at the time was not an individual of great charity or patience." He tapped the scar on his cheek. "He made certain I understood and felt the gravity of my mistake, naturally."

What an unhappy bit of information! Your heart broke anew for the man beside you, and you found yourself extending your hands to cradle his face once more. Ezra willingly settled his chin into your palms, but you felt him cringe hard when you pressed your lips to the scar on his cheekbone. 

"It did not even hurt, per se, not in the moment. As I recall I was more startled by it than anything else. The sudden savagery, the way he lashed out at me, I...I'm afraid I am still a bit hand-shy on occasion due to that event." Ezra tried to smile. "How preposterous. You must think me quite the ferocious coward."

"Never." You replied firmly. 

"So willing to accept my shortcomings! I would be more wary, were I you." The man warned, tapping the end of your nose.

"Listen, what I was trying to say is that you know how to be careful. You know when something is too important, and you know better than to risk it. You're not giving yourself enough credit."

"You are infinitely more precious to me than any mere dig pull, gentle soul." Ezra replied. "The rarest resource I've ever had fall into my hands." His fingers traced your facial features almost reverently. "I…"

"You won't hurt me. I know you won't." You took a breath. "You're not like him."

"Martyr's malfeasance," Ezra whispered, his voice rasping in his throat. The bewildered gratitude in his eyes was the same as it had been in the tent when you agreed to help save his arm, and the recollection nearly had you in tears. "I have worked in tandem with you previously, reaping dangerous rewards, writing stories and bringing you to your peak. May I...may I touch you again?"

"Again, and again, and again." You agreed with a trembling smile, your emotions running hot just beneath the surface. Ezra kissed you hungrily, rolling onto his knees and pressing your shoulders back against the mattress.

"I would love...to taste you." He breathed between nipping at your lips. "Permit me to slake my thirst on the pastoral bounty that is your body, gentle soul. Permit me to indulge my penchant for devouring."

"As much as you want." You gasped, whimpering when his mouth immediately latched onto your left breast. 

Ezra nursed from you until you were writhing, pleading for him to move, his teeth gently teasing at your tormented bud. "I love you." He murmured. Your hand raked through his hair almost frantically at his words, and you bit down on your thumb to keep from sobbing out. Large hands framed your hips as he slid down your body, and Ezra cupped your thigh to encourage first your right leg, and then your left up over his shoulders. 

Here it was. The moment of truth, his head bowed slightly as if in prayerful contemplation while he took in the sight of you. You barely managed to keep still, your flush comprised of equal parts arousal and embarrassment. 

"My dreams pale in comparison to the beautiful reality of your form." Ezra groaned, the words a rumble in his chest. You covered your face as you felt his knuckles graze your slit, making your whole body tremble. "Kevva, the way you quake...is this alright, gentle soul?" He asked cautiously. 

"M' fine, I'm just embarrassed." You admitted breathlessly. 

"Why?" Ezra queried, and when you peeked at him through your fingers you saw his head cocked inquisitively to the side. 

"I-I mean, everyone is about something, right?" You reasoned. "I'm not used to...um, this, that's all. It's never lasted this long." 

"Ah." Ezra looked saddened, but the expression fled nearly as soon as you noticed it. "Am I...am I going too slow? Is it a drudgery?"

"What? No, gods no, Ezra you are…" You struggled to come up with the right word as you propped yourself up on your elbows, resorting to, "You're perfect," and a clumsy shrug. "You're so patient and good to me. I love you."

His expression lit up with a smile so genuine you felt tears sting your eyes, and his hand patted the outside of your thigh. "Perhaps I am bein' a bit too verbose for the bedroom." He allowed, giving you a wink. "I would love to give you a demonstration of what else my mouth can accomplish." The man inclined his head, his eyes never leaving yours. "May I?"

"Oh gods, please." You mumbled, your hands clutching the bedspread on either side of you. 

You unintentionally braced yourself and he must have noticed, his fingers massaging slow, calming circles on your inner thighs to get your tense muscles to relax. "I have you, gentle soul. It's me." Ezra reminded you softly. "Keep your eyes open if you need to, put your hands in my hair if you need to. It's just me." 

Hesitantly, you reached down and threaded your fingers through his shaggy hair. "Okay." You exhaled the word. 

You felt his breath on your cunt and then his thumbs spread you open, the motion alone making your inner walls flex in eager anticipation. "Oh, look at you." Ezra sighed, the kiss he pressed to your clit nothing but a feather-light tease. His tongue raked over your entrance and you quivered, trying your best to keep from squirming. 

Your wanton cry of delight when he finally, finally delved his tongue into your pussy made him moan in reply, and you were certain you might be gripping his hair a little too hard. The bridge of his proud nose rubbed against your clit over and over, a maddening rhythm of back and forth that had your hips twitching with every pass. His mustache was ticklish in the best possible way.

"Gentle soul, I have never savored a more divine treat than this in all my years," Ezra murmured, "never harvested a more precious resource than the lovely sounds I wring from your lips." He returned to devouring your arousal with single-minded intent, no doubt realizing that you were already wound tight.

You sobbed out his name and Ezra groaned softly, his index finger slowly tracing your entrance. The digit was thicker than your own, longer, and while nothing had hurt yet, the pressure of it stirred a momentary unpleasantness in your chest. You froze for just a second.

And Ezra noticed, his motions coming to a halt as he raised his head. "Bad?" He asked, his voice sounding almost deliberately even. "Shall I slow down, or reverse?"

"Slow down." You answered him after a moment. "I'm not...I just don't want it to hurt. It's not bad yet. I can do it." You muttered the last part, determined. 

"Is it my fingers?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, not really eager to have this conversation right now, but… "Sort of? They're just...a lot bigger than mine. M' not used to it yet."

"Don't rush yourself, gentle soul." Ezra ordered, lazily reaching his hand up to splay his palm on your stomach instead. He drew his index finger in a firm line down the length of your abdomen, stopping just shy of your pubic mound before retreating back up your belly to repeat the stroke. His touch was soothingly warm, heated by the friction of his movements, and you found yourself eventually relaxing again. 

The former prospector was obviously hellbent on taking his time with you, his mouth alone reducing you to a puddle beneath him. You still hadn't come but you could feel it building, building in your stomach; his tongue on you was nearly better than an actual orgasm, the wet muscle tenderly tracing arcane, forbidden designs on your throbbing cunt. You alternated between wishing he would just stop messing around and being so incredibly grateful that he was, because it afforded you the time to wrap your mind around the fact that you absolutely wanted him to fuck you.

Absolutely. You wanted him inside you, wanted him over you or under you, you wanted this, you wanted him. 

You started rocking your hips without meaning to and Ezra murmured, "shall I stroke you now, gentle soul?" You felt his smile when you nodded rapidly. "I'll be just as gentle as you, if not gentler." 

It didn't hurt.

It didn't hurt. Thank gods. 

Ezra crooned low in his throat and that noise made you whine, his finger stroking into you careful and sweet and deep, so deep. "You take me so well, gentle soul. Shall I curl it for you, or is this sufficient?"

"Oh please-" you begged, your thighs trembling. 

"A plea, my Eve offers to Lucifer! What a divine supplication. I shall indulge." Ezra muttered darkly, his brow furrowed as if in thought. His thumb applied even pressure to your clit and he proceeded to quirk his index upwards, the sensation making you struggle uncontrollably into a half-sitting position. He stared up at you, no doubt a bit startled by the speed of your motion. "...good?" He suggested tentatively after a second. 

"Fuck, Ezra-" you choked out, and Ezra grinned broadly (no doubt in relief). His grin quickly turned into a groan as your fingers kneaded against his scalp like you were a contented cat, his eyes rolling back in his head briefly.

"Gentle soul, you will cause me to ruin my jeans if you keep blessing me with these delectably hearty reactions." He said shakily, stroking you faster now. "Does completion beckon as sweetly as my fingers? Are you teetering on the precipice of release once more? Has the ardent lovemaking of my tongue rendered you mute? Stand at the lectern of passion and sing your hymn to me, gentle soul." He commanded. The soft authority in his voice tingled across every inch of your naked body as he growled, "I would see you fucking drenched from the sweet toil of wanting me."

Your eyes flew open, your back arched and he lowered his mouth to you once more as you came again with a gasping cry of his name. He devoured you at leisure now, the smooth flat of his tongue soothing your sensitive clit even as it pulsed from your climax. You sobbed a breath through your teeth, raking your fingers through his hair over and over in a daze as your body quivered like it would never stop. 

When Ezra withdrew his finger you couldn't stifle the pitiful noise you made, your cunt feeling achingly empty. "Want you inside me." You panted, watching him jerk unceremoniously to a halt through barely-open eyes. "Please Ezra, fuck, please, I-"

"Steady, steady." He cajoled softly, moving up over you on his hands and knees so he could press his forehead to yours. "I don't know if you really want all that right this moment, gentle soul." He swallowed hard when you shoved your hands into the back pockets of his jeans. "Gropin' me? How incredibly naughty of you, so bold!" He teased, his eyes crinkling with the spread of his grin. "Wouldn't it be better to calm you down again, though? You must be weary from your work, weary from-" 

You didn't let him finish, unzipping his jeans for him. "Please." You sighed, boldly splaying a hand on his abdomen before sliding it into his pants. 

Ezra rocked his hips down, the heavy arch of his cock landing squarely in your palm. "You shied away from a finger, gentle soul." He whispered pragmatically. Not judgemental, but logical. "I am...at the risk of sounding overly-confident, I am a touch larger, as you appear to be realizing with the motion of your hand." He finished, his voice cracking slightly.

He was, oh gods. He seemed huge, the stiffness and heat of his cock even through his boxers taking your breath away. Instead of fear though, you felt desire. Your fingers grazed the wet tip, traced the proud vein that pulsed down the length of him and Ezra made a wanton noise, his head hanging. 

"Gentle soul, even if I can, even if I do, I regret to inform you that it...I will not last long." He gritted out, tipping your chin up so he could kiss you softly. "Why cause you grief over something that I can easily take care of just by rutting against your thigh?"

"I want to." You breathed, lifting your hands to cup his face. 

Ezra met your eyes and strangely, he was the one that looked afraid. "I need you to understand what you're askin' of me." He muttered. "I hang by a delicate thread, gentle soul, and I fear that the moment I intrude into your body, I will wound and mark you with my greedy lust."

"I know you won't." 

"How could you possibly know?" Ezra cried, sounding frustrated. "I myself don't even know! Martyr's malfeasance, I am made base by my longing for you. I want nothing more than to sheathe myself in your sweet, trembling cunt, I want nothing more than to hear you utter my name in primal ecstasy, but I will not be the inelegant oaf that pushes you past your breaking point to urge such sensations out of you!" He said sternly, resting his forehead on your own again.

You smiled up at him. "I know you won't. I trust you."

Ezra stared at you for a moment, his gaze turbulent. "If you hate it, I will stop." He promised finally, pressing a forlorn kiss to your palm. His facial hair tickled the skin and you giggled a little, the noise seeming to slightly ease his conscience. "Truthfully, I do not know whether you will have time to hate it." He admitted with a shaky chuckle. "I'm just barely clinging to my composure as is."

"That's okay." You tugged his jeans down over his hips so he could kick them off, his boxers soon following. 

Ezra slid his hand down over your cunt, making you twitch and shudder as he gathered a mixture of your arousal and come to fist his cock. "Oh, fuck," he grunted, thrusting into his own hand. "You are so warm, gentle soul. I surmise you may burn my soul to ashes if I defile you." 

He positioned himself over you, grasping your hips to raise them slightly. You covered his hands with your own, silently encouraging him to continue when he hesitated. Ezra dragged his cock over your cunt a few times, rocking his hips back and forth until he was soaked with your arousal. "Please." You begged, your body arching to meet him every time the underside of his cock blazed hot on your clit. "Please, Ezra, please--"

"Temperance." The brown-haired man said hoarsely, "temperance. I will not be a threat to you." His member ground against your pussy and slow, so slow, like he was trying to render you to nothingness out of sheer impatience, Ezra began to press into you. 

A daze took you as surely as he did, your hands falling limp to the bed. The width of him stole your breath away, but even with his size...it didn't hurt.

Ezra exhaled a ragged gasp of air, glancing up from where your bodies joined. "You are weepin', gentle soul." The look in his dark eyes was jarring, one of combined terror and concern. "Is it as I feared?"

You shook your head rapidly, trying to remember how to speak. You hadn't even noticed the dampness on your face, so complete was your pleasure. "Good." You huffed out finally, going so far as to flash him a thumbs up and a smile.

His relieved moan sent a heated wave through your body. "Gods, I was so afraid I would harm you." You could feel his thighs twitching with the effort of keeping himself still. "Permit me to move?"

You nodded so hard Ezra couldn't help but laugh, the man shifting up and over you once again. His hips settled into the cradle of your pelvis and he gasped, burying his face in your neck even as he wiped the tears from your cheek.

"You grip me so tightly, it is as if you wish to tear my completion from me." He muttered, sounding almost apologetic while he covered the skin of your shoulder with kisses and soft bites. One slow, graceful thrust had you bucking against him, whimpering when he withdrew. "These delectable pleas you are makin' strain to sunder the last strands of my limited pride, gentle soul, but at the same time I...gods, I love hearing you cry out in rapture for me." He hissed through clenched teeth. 

Your hands greedily raced over his back and up the nape of his neck, one seizing a handful of his hair while the other clung to his shoulder blade for dear life. "Thank you." You half-sobbed, mouthing the words on his jaw while he filled you with his cock. "Thank you, Ezra, thank you, thank you…"

"You will absolutely destroy me, gentle soul. This pussy threatens me with radiant immolation and yet like a moth to a flame, I come to you with no fear." Ezra's voice trembled, "That my sins could be forgiven so readily! I would happily spend eternity in the gentle embrace of your body."

His motions had you writhing underneath him, clinging tightly to his lithe frame as he drew taut. His member thrust deep enough to make the pit of your stomach ache sweetly. Kevva, you craved this man, craved the love he gave you with a tenacity that made your heart feel as if it would burst. 

Ezra kissed your forehead, the tendons in his thick neck rising stark beneath his skin with the effort of holding everything in check. "All I can ask for is that you be charitable when you look back upon this first engagement," he choked out, laughing a little. 

You smiled up at him. "Come for me, please?"

"What my gentle soul commands, my body obeys with zealous fervor." He panted, sounding a bit rueful when he added, "for better or worse." Ezra's mouth met your own hungrily, his facial hair sending sparks across your skin as he surged against you a final time. 

Ezra's orgasm seemed to pull every ounce of energy from him, leaving his body quivering above you. His right arm gave way suddenly and he nearly collapsed, dropping to his elbow instead with a shaky curse. You quickly guided him down on top of you, not particularly worried about being crushed at the moment as you stroked the back of his head. 

"Shh, you're okay." You soothed when you felt the skin of your shoulder grow hot and damp with tears. "You're okay. That was a hell of a workout, don't be upset." You cupped his head. "You just gave me a fucking transcendent experience Ezra, please don't be upset."

His laugh was watery, but still there. "I should have known better than to test my limitations with so much at stake, gentle soul. Nothing to blame but my own fool pride. Are you alright? Still no pain?"

"I am…" you sleepily searched for the right word. "I am somnolent." Your brow furrowed. "Right? That's the one?"

"You are pleasantly drowsy, then. Exhausted and peaceful." Ezra mumbled against your shoulder, absently tonguing the skin he found. "I have done well, if that is truly your humor at this juncture." 

"Oh, you did insanely well." You assured him as you closed your eyes, nudging your chin against his sweaty curls. "Thank you."

"I believe it is myself that ought to be expressing my gratitude to you, gentle soul. This was no easy task. The amount of trust you extended to me so freely, I…I am honored." Ezra replied around a yawn. "And immensely weary."

"Can I sleep in here with you?"

He shot you a one-eyed glare from his spot at your collarbone. "Bold of you to assume I would relinquish my grip on you while I'm conscious."

Part Ten

[inkperch]

V8E13 Thoughts- Just OUCH.

Ok, so, this one is me live tweeting my second watching, cause there is no way in FUCKING HELL Im being coherant otherwise HOLY CRAP.

Jaune’s motion sickness coming up again is fun. The evacuation plan is pretty smart tbh. Ren’s fuCKING SMILE- if I didn’t ship Renora b4 this, I’d ship it now. Also, Nora can ride her hammer like a broom now, and its so casual Im genuinely trying to remeber if Im just being dumb and she could always do that? The subway scene is f-ing hilarious, but I can’t help but feel like they were intentionally being more cartoon-y than usual cause of the shit that happens later.

Everyones wonder at the portals is just *chefs kiss*. Especially May’s ‘figured you wouldn’t let us down!’- shes awesome, strong contender in the ‘probably only here for one arc+cameos’ best girl contest. Ilia’s still winning, but May’s a strong 2nd place. Really don’t like how fast Ruby gets back to mission mode tho- girl, let yourself appreciate the pretty golden bridges ffs, you definitely don’t by the end of the episode.

And I love how the biggest problem was something they just... couldn’t predict. The sandstorm wasn’t a fault in their plan, it wasn’t a villainous scheme, it just happened.

I swear Cinder’s the animation teams favourite, her expressions are always 100% spot on. And RWBY squaring up, altogether again, is badass. 

And just- the way she’s still super shaken? But comes up with a perfect plan regardless? Wow. Like- she took exactly what needed taking from Watt’s speech, how to get Neo back on board and, as we see later, exactly what to tell Watts to get him on her side. V1-3 Cinder’s back guys, and she’s more dangerous than ever.

And Jinn’s moment of hesitation before answering Cinder is great- Jinn may be a solid True Neutral, but she still doesn’t particularly want to doom Ruby’s plan. She knew exactly what answering the question would lead to, after all.

Actually- Hey, Jinn seems to get linked to Ruby like, a lot. Obviously Ruby was the first person we saw ask her a question and, while Yang got them the lamp, Ruby was the one carrying it all the way to Atlas pretty much. And then theres the big, obvious one- when the Spirit of Knowledge admits your clever, your clever. Food for thought.

Cinder’s troubled response to seeing Emerald- seriously, animation team popped off this season. And the fucking SOUNDTRACK DISSONANCE! It sounds like something out of a ballet, and then we’re shown them casually enter a room full of people and seal the door- then cut to a room full of corpses. Without so much as a blip in the happy, airy music. Cause really what’s changed? Everything’s coming up Cinder! (also, Neo beating a survivor around the head got a guilty laugh, I’ll admit.)

The #1 Dud mug hit different.

And Robyn’s spitting facts. Marrow is the best, wasn’t sold on him, then he went and did this. Also, FUCK HARRIET. Saving her own ass so she can go doom Mantle. Didn’t even fuckin TRY to wait for Wacky Tube Man and Adult Nora. And Robyn’s face- ok, fine, I’ll shut up about the animation team. No I won’t, but I’m running out of creative ways to say they’re awesome.

Also, fuck Jaques! I was fucking CACKLING when Ironwood shot him! Just- fuckign hell, I know it shows just how far he’s fallen, willing to execute a prisoner who, even in the case of escape is harmless now, but also, it’s Jaques, the guy’s a fucking hate sink for a reason, best choice Ironwood’s made all season! I guess it’s pretty clear he’s dead now huh?

Also- Cinder keeping the attention off of Neo- like, I only noticed it here but holy crap, Cinder isn’t lying in her speech- this is great teamwork, and it’s the kind of teamwork Cinder excels at- she makes some form of spectacle that furthers her goals, then uses it as a distraction for an even bigger part of her goals- we first saw it at Beacon. Like I said, Cinder’s back~ rip any redemption arc tho, she’s just better at being worse- it’s actually a really, really good villain arc, without becoming a redemption arc and I love it.

And then, Yang’s sacrifice- ok, like the Penny one I’d had this mildly spoiled for me. Unlike the Penny one, I had 0 hope of her getting out of this intact. Because as soon as there was that black screen, I knew Yang was fucked- cause, remember what other scene we saw shot like this? Close up of Yang’s face, then she activates her semblance and throws herself forward? All because someone she loves is in danger? Yeah, I was having big V3 flashbacks at this point, so I knew Yang wasn’t gonna be ok.

Also, something I didn’t notice until rewatch, but the reason Blakes the only one fast enough to react is cause Ruby’s on the floor. Kinda neat attention to detail. First watch I just joked to myself her reaction times shit.

And Blake just missing- wow. Fucking OUCH. She’s probably having V3 thoughts too. And just generally the way this is framed- just fucking OUCH. The heartbeat sound, the black frames, the slowmow- just OUCH. Speaking of OUCH, that ‘YAAAANG!’. Like. Excellent voice acting (and animation, again, seriously wow.) And the FUCKING ECHO! Just- OUCH. That’s just a summary of this whole scene, just fucking OUCH.

Also, as we learn later, if Yang had fallen a second later, Penny would’ve been through the portal before she could react. Think about that for a second- Penny would’ve gone through the portal, guilty about leaving her friends behind to fight, only to her a heartbroken cry of ‘Yang!’ literally as she stepped through- only to realise she can’t go back.

Also, RUBY IS NOT OK. GIVE RUBY A FUCKING HUG. HER SISTER JUST DIED AND BEFORE SHE CAN PROCESS THAT, SHE HAS TO FIGHT FOR HER FUCKING LIFE AGAINST THE PERSON YANG JUST DIED TO SAVE HER FROM. Seriously, give Ruby a fucking break holy shit. That quiet ‘Yang?’ and then she is immediately back in mission mode? O U C H.  

Also, Neo is smiling in that fight, wow, holy shit- wait, theres the other V3 scene this gave me Deja Vu to, it’s the fucking Roman fight! Neo just did to Ruby what Ruby did to Neo, but flipped- she ‘ring out’ed Yang to her death, when Ruby ‘ring out’ed Neo and then ‘killed’ Torchwick. Wow, holy crap.

And, again, ANIMATION TEAM OUCH. Seriosly, why are they so good at animating sobbing? Also, cute detail with Weiss holding Blake back. Don’t know why I’m calling it cute, nothing here is cute, holy shit, this episode is ouch. And the fucking anger, it’s so well animated holy fuck. And Neo refusing to even fight Blake, cause Ruby’s her target- yeah, that’s gonna fuck both them up. I am not looking forward to the end of these fight scenes- and seriously? Was this what Yang having her back turned in the OP was foreshadowing???

Weiss vs Cinder is awesome- Weiss has been on good form when it comes to winning fights again this season. Helps that, other than the ones who can fly, she’s in the best position to fight here what with her glyphs and all.

Penny trying to draw her swords and not got a laugh out of me, I’ll admit. To be fair, I was laughing at anything and everything at that point, cause they just fuckin killed Yang. Also, Rip Penny’s feet, imagine the friction burns? Like, ignoring how shes running around barefoot rn, i m a g i n e the friction burns from getting thrown like that with no shoes. Whole different kind of ouch.

And, Ok, so, are Penny’s swords made of rocks? Because they don’t look particularly rock-y. They look like something out of TRON tbh, don’t really seem Maiden-y to me. 

Weiss protecting everyone with her sword is badass. Blake being forced to chose between protecting everyone, and murdering Neo is heartbreaking just- 

This fuckING FRAME!

Also, yeah, FUCK HARRIET. Also, Robyn ramming them had me fucking cackling so hard- just, like, Wacky arms guy almost, almost talked some sense into her (Not really, or she wouldn’t go back on it so quickly, but almost), meanwhile in the other jet, Robyn ain’t letting anyone kill her people. Especially not mid-evacuation, that’s just a dick move. FUCK HARRIET. And like... was Harriet into Clover? I’m reading that right, right? Cause like... that’s some yikesy foreshadowing on the back of YANG GETTING KILLED OFF.

But also, still, FUCK HARRIET. Qrow throwing himself through the windshield was 10/10, would fight intro again. And Arthur finished his apple before hyjacking the bomb.

And then, the Winter scene. Is Ironwood just in a Schnee- killing mood? Ironwood’s speech is... honestly, heart-breaking. He is the definition of a fallen hero. If he wasn’t blinded by paranoia and driven to rely on no-one but himself and a very select few, would he still have come believe he was the only one who anyone could trust? Because that’s, ultimately, what has brought him here- he doesn’t think he can trust anyone but himself, and so, he must be the only one who can save Atlas, right?

And Winter’s FUCKING RESPONSE- ‘I’ve never wavered in fighting the enemies of this kingdom... and I won’t start now.’ No emotion, no hesitation, no anything. Just resolve. Made even more badass by how clearly pained she is- and like, I don’t mean emotionally, that’s cool too, I mean that she’s physically in pain, but still won’t even hesitate to fight the guy who took a whole team to fight in a sneak attack last episode. And Ironwood’s response... I really can’t praise the animation team enough.

And then there’s the other side of the portal- Ren is MVP ngl, that’s a stupid amount of people he sheilded for a stupid amount of time, all on his own.

Ok, so, next week’s big fights. RWBP vs Cinder and Neo inside the bridge world, Qrow vs Harriet, with plane assists from Robyn and who the fuck knows from Wacky arms man in the atlas/mantle set for the last time probably. Winter vs Ironwood. And Oscar, Emerald and a half-dead Ren vs a massive, massive crowd of Grimm all while doing an escort mission.

...I’m not going on Youtube for a week.

[duhragonball]

Battle Tendency Liveblog: JJBA Ch. 52-57

This is the first half of the Santana arc.   I had planned to cover the whole arc in one post, but it’s kind of long and a lot of crazy visuals are involved, and I noticed Tumblr’s experimental post editor only lets you do ten images in a post.   I have the Beta turned off for now, but they could implement the thing at any time, so maybe I should get used to working around that limit.   

So I blew my first image on this cool shot of Joseph Joestar cruising around the deserts of Mexico on a sweet motorcycle.   I also wanted to include the following pages where he stops at a town and accidentally drinks water out of a horse trough, but if I did that, I’d just be reposting the entire comic.  So please appreciate my restraint.  

Wait, how do you accidentally drink out of a horse trough?   Joseph marches up to thing all large and in charge, but it’s not until he sees the horse next to him that he realizes what he’s done wrong.   The joke is that he looks all majestic until he does something extra goofy, but I never stopped to consider how ridiculous that really is.   How do you see such a thing and think it’s for people?  Like, he just assumed they leave out a big open trough of water for weary travelers to drink out of.    That’s stupid, Joseph.   Those Mexicans were right to laugh at you, and you were kind of jerk using Hamon to threaten them into bringing you provisions.

Joseph’s in Mexico because Straizo told him that there was a spooky “Pillar Man” there, which Speedwagon had discovered before Straizo killed him.    So Joseph wants to investigate, but what he doesn’t know is that Speedwagon survived.   Straizo was so afraid of the Pillar Man that he got in a hurry to leave and dumped his victims in a river, but Speedwagon wasn’t dead yet, and then he was fished out of the water by Nazis.  

What are Nazis doing in Mexico, you ask?   Well, we’ll get to that, but what’s important right now is that they have an “information base” set up not far from where Speedwagon discovered he Pillar Man’s temple, and the commanding officer, Lt. Stroheim, is extremely interested in the Pillar Man.   When Speedwagon comes to, he’s horrified to learn that the Nazis have removed the Pillar Man from the temple, and are planning to conduct experiments on it.  

In preparation for these experiments, Stroheim wants a volunteer from his collection of prisoners.   He demands that the prisoners choose one of their own to die for this experiment, and one brave lad heroically offers himself.    Stroheim is impressed by this, and orders everyone else to be killed, except this one brave kid.   So yeah, Stroheim is one sick fuck.   That gets played down as the story progresses, but it’s never not true.  

So, the Speedwagon Foundation discovered the Pillar Man, and while he looks like a stone sculpture carved into the column, he’s actually alive, in some sort of suspended animation.   When Straizo killed all those guys, he found that the blood of his victims was being absorbed into the Pillar, feeding the Pillar Man inside.    Now Stroheim has learned all of this, either through reading Speedwagon’s notes or by interrogating Speedwagon with truth serum, or perhaps through other experiments.  So he used all of those prisoners to provide blood to the Pillar Man and wake him up.    Speedwagon begs him to reconsider, but Stroheim is convinced that he’s taken adequate precautions.    The pillar is being kept in a huge vessel with thick steel walls.  I want to say 50cm. 

Speedwagon is afraid because he knows how dangerous Dio was when he used the Stone Mask 50 years ago, and it looks like the Pillar Man is an even more ancient and terrible monster than what Dio aspired to become.  It’s strongly implied that the Pillar Man invented the Stone Masks in the first place, so he’s got to be bad news.   But Stroheim is convinced that the Pillar Man is just an immortal primitive.   He may have strange powers, but he’ll be completely befuddled by the modern world.    One of Stroheim’s catchphrases is “German Science is the greatest in the world!”  The writings in the temple said that the Pillar Man wanted to become the ultimate life form, but Stroheim believes that humans have already claimed that spot, with his own countrymen representing the peak of humanity.  

And you know, he might have a point.   Dio was a big problem in the 19th Century, but Joseph did pretty well against Straizo using guns and grenades and mirrors.  Once the Pillar Man received enough blood, he transforms into a flesh-and-blood being and pops out, only to seem completely confused by his surroundings.    Stroheim writes him off as a dullard and decides to give the Pillar Man a name: Santana. 

Stroheim’s next experiment is to send a vampire into the chamber.    He explains to Speedwagon that they used a Stone Mask from the temple to convert one of the prisoners, and then starved him of blood so that he would attack Santana on sight.   To everyone’s surprise, the vampire seems to win without a struggle.   He just glomps onto Santana and bites him.  I should point out that this is the only time in JoJo where we see a vampire use his fangs to drink blood.   Everyone else always used their fingers.  

There’s a bomb in the head of the vampire prisoner, so Stroheim considers detonating it to save Santana, but then...

Holy shiiiiiiiiit!   Yeah, vampires in JJBA can absorb blood by sticking their fingers into your body, but Santana can top even that.    All he has to do is touch a victim, and his body will absorb the victim’s flesh.  So when this hapless vampire grabbed hold of Santana, he was actually sinking more of his body into danger.   When he finally pulls free, huge chunks of him are simply... gone.   The only reason he’s not dead already is because of his vampire physiology.    But then Santana just grabs hold of him and pushes him into himself, completing the process.

Now that I think about it, what about that bomb that was inside the vampire’s body?  Did Santana absorb that too? 

Meanwhile, this German agent named Donovan is following Joseph as he makes his way through the desert.   When Joseph starts to think he’s being watched, Donovan tries to ambush him, but Joseph lures him near a cactus and uses Hamon to make it explode in Donovan’s face.    Then he interrogates Donovan and learns that Speedwagon is alive and being held captive in Stroheim’s base.

I don’t want to spend a lot of time on Donovan because I find his entire presence in this story confusing, but I do think he was one of the reasons Hirohiko Araki created the Stands in Part 3.    Joseph vs. Donovan has a lot of the hallmarks of a typical Stand User battle.   The good guy thinks something’s suspicious, then the bad guy reveals himself, and proves more dangerous than he seemed.   He appears to win, only for the good guy to turn the tables with an unexpected application of his own power.

The trouble is that Donovan’s abilities don’t make much sense.  He can walk without leaving footprints, and he seemed to be invisible at one point, so maybe he’s just really good at concealing himself?   Also he has a weird knife that can unravel and function as a whip, but where the hell did he get that thing?    And how was Donovan following Joseph?    Joseph’s on a motorcycle, and Donovan appears to be traveling on foot.

Stand powers just make things easier.   If Donovan had a Stand, it could just be a Stand that allows him to do all of these things without any further explanation.

So Joseph finds the base and attempts to sneak in by disguising himself as a Mexican woman bringing in supplies.  The guards apparently have some sort of arrangement with the nearest town, but they harass all the women who bring them stuff.   When they see through Joseph’s disguise, he uses Hamon to drop coconuts on their heads and kicks them in the face.   Then he steals one of their uniforms, genuinely frustrated that his first disguise didn’t work.  Well, I think you looked great, Joseph.   

Inside, everyone’s panicking because Santana managed to disappear somehow.    They only took their eyes off him for a moment, and then he was gone.   So Stroheim plans to cut off the oxygen to the vessel and wait for Santana to show himself.   In the meantime, he checks the security footage, which shows Santana jumping into a ventilation grate, and contorting his entire body to squeeze inside.  Speedwagon deduces that he must have crushed every bone in his body to make that work.    Dio had similar powers of bodily manipulation, but nothing like this.

And then Santana emerges from the vents and burrows into the body of one of the German soldiers.   The poor bastard has a giant hole in his face where his eyes used to be, and he’s somehow still awake, even as Santana forces his body to expand in size.  Stroheim orders his men to shoot, which kills the soldier but not Santana.    Stroheim still clings to the belief that Santana is dumb enough to be controlled, despite his power, but then Santana starts talking, and points his finger at them.   Stroheim initially thinks Santana is just imitating the act of holding a gun, but no.    Santana can take all the bullets they fired into him and shoot them back out through his fingertip.    Shit!

At this moment, a German soldier tries to move Speedwagon to safety, but Speedwagon refuses help, so the soldier just grabs some of Stroheim’s hair instead.

Turns out, it’s Joseph!   He does some Hamon trick to make the hair all stiff and it deflects the bullets.   Well, only the ones aimed toward Speedwagon and Stroheim.   Everyone else in this room appears to be dead.   Well, serves ‘em right for being Nazis.

[woulddieforperrytheplatypus]

To distract myself from this awful political scene I'm forced to watch for history class: can you give us some obscure side characters (like, Dr. Diminutive, Newton the Gnu, type characters) you absolutely love for no reason? :) <3

Okay I am literally so late because I was doing my chem reading and my writing hw BUT I can’t refuse a chance to scream about my favorite characters (but y’all can refuse to listen to my scream about them so here’s a cut)

First of all, I want you to know that I haven’t even started listing characters yet and this ask has already lead me to spend almost $4 on Agent P’s Guide to Fighting Evil and that’s why I don’t look at the PnF wiki when I’m tired thank you for coming to my TED talk

I almost feel like I’m cheating by starting with Dr. Diminuitve but HOW CAN I NOT LIKE TELL ME THAT LIL MAN IS NOT THE BEST CHARACTER THE WORLD HAS EVER SEEN OKAY FUCKIN DO IT JUST KIDDING YOU CAN’T I mean come on, one of his first lines was literally “I don’t have a Napoleon complex; Napoleon had a ME complex!” I had to check the wiki to see if that was his first line ever and I’m very disappointed that it wasn’t and then in OWCA’s Going Down when all the evil scientists were just vibin against the fence and they started doing that West Side Story snappy walk and Diminutive was so into the snaps that he just didn’t fucking move and then he opened his eyes and the rest of the gang was halfway off the screen fjdskhfkalsfhaskl I just really love him okay the more I think about it the more convinced I am that he’s actually my favorite character

Idk if this counts as an obscure side character but he is incredibly underrated so I gotta throw in: LAWRENCE FUCKING FLETCHER. He’s just such a pure and innocent lil dude. He sees the boys doing dangerous shit and he’s just like, “Well that’s happening,” or better yet, “Hey, that looks fun!” I mean, the airplace? The flying carpet? The monster trucks? He genuinely gives zero fucks and I love him for it. I wholeheartedly believe that Lawrence knows Perry is a secret agent -- or at least that he’s smarter than he acts -- but he’s literally so indifferent to everything going on around him that he never mentions it because life is full of fun and exciting things like that and he can’t talk about them all, you know? And he gets so excited about his antiques and he’s so passionate about history and ughhhh I love him 

I was about to say I feel like I’m cheating by using a special but it just occurred to me that that’s lowkey how I’ve prefaced all of these so no, fuck that, I’m using a special and that’s just how it’s gonna be. CARL FROM THE LAND OF INTERNUS WOULD HAVE MADE A MUCH BETTER ENDING THAN THE ACTUAL BOOK HAD AND FUCK YOU MONOGRAM FOR CUTTING CARL OFF BEFORE HE COULD TELL IT HOW HE WANTED TO

These two kinda go hand-in-hand but Bunka Da Bunkaquan and Sweary the Swan are my favorite alternative Perrys. As far as the specials go, Steampunx isn’t one of my favorites, but Sweary the Swan is just... How do you even describe Sweary the Swan? He is life. He is the reason I wake up in the morning. He is the only thing worth living for. And then Bunka Da Bunkaquan is just so fuckin cute and anyone who disagrees needs their eyes checked. And tbh while we’re talking about Tri-Stone area, I gotta throw in a mention of Doofengung no of course I didn’t have to google what his name was what are you talking about because I love how he just stares at the water and every time it drips he just fuckin cackles lmaooo

Okay one more special (maybe) but Doofenshmirtz in The Temple of Juatchadoon brooo I just googled it to make sure I spelled that right and I did woah my power is unmatched is lowkey my favorite Doofenshmirtz. I don’t know if it’s because I actually like him more than every other Doof or if it’s just because his first scene was with Phineas Ohio Flynn and they knew each other and they had actual interactions throughout the episode and the Doof/Phineas relationship is my favorite underexplored relationship, but Juatchadoon Doof makes the list anyway

The “what did you think, _________ was just going to fall out of the sky?” couple — who 100% deserved that cameo in catu

I’m almost afraid to say this in public, but I actually really like Roger. I was mostly indifferent to him at first, but then Delivery for Destiny happened and I was like wait a minute, why am I sleeping on his man who literally orders boxes just to give to his cat? And once I realized that he was kinda cool, it started sinking in that he was never actually a bad guy. Heinz never even really claimed he was -- if anything, his problem is that Roger isn’t a bad guy, and everyone in Gimmelshtump and Danville knows it. And I gotta give Roger credit for not being too harsh on his brother, because yeah, he can be a little stuck up (I’m looking at you, stupid golf game), but you can’t really blame him for thinking he’s better than Heinz, you know? But at least he’s not a dick about it like their parents are. Also the entire latter half of this paragraph was me trying to find a way to work in the other part of that scene with the cat box and it didn’t work so I’m just gonna tack it on to the end because this isn’t an essay for English class and I can do that lmao. Paul mentions that he just delivered something to a Heinz Doofenshmirtz, and Roger is like 😬 because let’s be real, no one wants to be represented by the type of dude to try to juice City Hall, but he’s obviously not going to say that because he’s still a respectful dude, so he’s just like “Charming... man... isn’t he...” and he’s literally so uncomfortable and it cracks me up every time but also it’s lowkey kinda wholesome because Heinz may make it his life mission to embarrass his brother but Roger doesn’t reciprocate. but I accidentally discovered a few weeks ago that John O’Hurley is a raging Trump supporter so I gotta dock points for that one

In the same vein, Paul the delivery guy. What more do I have to say?

If my love of Roger didn’t turn the world against me, this one probably will, but I’m going to say it loud and proud anyway. I LOVE PETER THE PANDA. He’s just??? so??? cute??? Like when he was tearing apart Doof’s inator and he was just... actually no scratch that I need pictures for this because I can’t explain this in words

THIS IS NOT EITHER OF THE PICTURES I WAS LOOKING FOR BUT LOOK AT THIS LITTLE GUY OH MY GOD

Peter really said “this bitch empty, YEET!”

okay but the ones I was actually looking for are...

I mean, how can you not find him adorable? And don’t even get me started on his relationship with Perry because Meapless in Seattle was just... B R O Perry flew halfway across the country (probably I mean idk where exactly Danville is but they use EST so Seattle is probably halfway across the country?) just to go grab a coffee with him. They went on a lil date at a fancy restaurant I know Dan said it wasn’t a date but he's been wrong in the tiktok comments before which means none of his opinions are canon lmao. They’re just? So? Cute? I don’t even know what to make of their relationship but I live for it.

And I can’t mention Peter without bringing up his nemesis, who, to be entirely honest, I also don’t know what to make of and he’s mostly on this list because I like the line “How did you get chorus girls in here?” and when I downloaded and cut a bunch of songs that you can download from Google Drive here if you want, I specifically kept that part in because I love it lmao (I do gotta point out tho because it’s been bugging me since I last watched the episode: I don’t think we have any proof that Professor Mystery even exists in the PnF dimension. I had just assumed he did for the longest time, but that entire episode takes place in a dimension where Lawrence is a polar bear. Who knows what other differences there are?)

I love all the grandparents and I don’t even have an explanation they’re just all adorable

Okay I know I said no more specials but TECHNICALLY at2d isn’t a special; it’s a movie. I am physically incapable of not brining up the muffin time Normbot and the “I use aggression to mask my insecurites” Normbot.

While we’re talking about Norm, his old head would 100% swear all the fucking time if it wasn’t a kids’ show and i gotta respect it

Dan Povenmire does one line for a dude named Vinnie in Mission Marvel and off the top of my head I don’t remember who he is but it was the beginning of the episode and I think (?) it was during the New York scene and he does it in the Vinnie Dakota voice long before Dakota was even a concept (I’m assuming) so he gets a mention

Jerry the Platypus gives me Paper Jam Dipper vibes and they are both valid as fuck (the fucked up Doof copy is not valid as fuck tho we’re gonna pretend he didn’t exist)

Don is literally the best part of Where’s Pinky and I’m not just saying that because I’ve been watching Whose Line for years and I was super excited to see Wayne Brady in the credits (and the fact that he was also in both the quarantine rap and catu makes me incredibly happy)

Ooh I almost forgot OWCA Files existed but Harry the Hyena playing the trumpet and the subsequent “you’re gonna be wearing that in a minute” is the best part of OWCA Files and tbh just Doof, Perry, and Harry could have carried an entire series by themselves (though I do also love Karen and Maggie)

WAIT A SECOND THE BUG TRIO FJDSAHFLKSAJD I was trying to pick a favorite last time I watched OWCA Files and every time one of them spoke they were my new favorite like I lowkey thought their plotline was boring but the characters themselves were hilarious

WAIT ANOTHER SECOND HOW DID I GET THIS FAR INTO THE LIST WITHOUT MENTIONING MONTY HOLY SHIT I’M SUCH A FAKE FAN BUT I LOVE MONTY OKAY HE IS LITERALLY JUST OZ FROM BTVS EXCEPT MONTY AND VANESSA HAVE BETTER CHEMISTRY THAN OZ AND WILLOW AND NO I WILL NOT BE ACCEPTING CRITICISM

Wait I forgot Vlorkel too omfg these two belong way higher on the list but Vlorkel is the love of my life (and I lowkey wish she had met Steve the giant chameleon because they would have become best friends)

I wanna keep going but it’s currently 1:45 in the morning (this is why I’ve been avoiding asks during the day: I get way too into them and spend a solid hour and a half on them and I’d never get any schoolwork done lmao) and it’s far from the first time I’ve stayed up this late but I figured it was fine because I have no classes tomorrow but it occurred to me like four seconds ago that I DO HAVE A CLASS TOMORROW SHIIIIT I had an anatomy exam on Tuesday during my usual class time (which if you read my tags you might have known about because I was having an existential crisis over it) so he moved our class tomorrow excePT IT’S NOT TOMORROW IT’S TODAY IT’S LITERALLY IN LESS THAN SEVEN HOURS FUCKING HELL I GOTTA GO TO BED ASAP

[thiswasinevitableid]

I have a suggestion for the Meet Ugly Prompts! Can you do 36, Sternclay, NSFW? Thanks so much! :)

Here you go!

36.  it’s mid-apocalypse and you break into my secret shelter and I swear I’ll kill you if you don’t give me three damn good reasons why I shouldn’t

Barclay is running out of daylight. It was worth it, he found two flocks of survivors, waited with them until Ned was able to get the car down and pick them up (the Lincoln is remarkably immune to hoards of undead/possessed humans). They’d told him there was another group further East, that they’d passed them the evening before and tried to link up for greater safety. So Barclay took his chances, just like everyone does these days, and gone to find them.

He’s found them; eight people, all prone on the ground, all with white ooze seeping from their mouths and the wounds on their bodies. Too late. He’s almost immune to being too late. Almost.

It’s not worth trying to dispatch all of them, he’ll lose what time he has left to find shelter if he does. He turns into the woods, trying to remember if he can make it to the cave up the rock-face or if he’ll be spending the night on the move.

His Sylph sense of smells picks up something human and he pauses, tilts his head and listens for footsteps. What he gets is the crunch of leaf litter behind him, from the clearing where he found the newly minted undead. 

Maybe the person nearby has shelter. Maybe they’re vulnerable and need help.

Cautiously, he takes off his bracelet, and the scent becomes much stronger. He follows it, finds its source at a log. Kneeling down, he feels along the ground and finds metal beneath a full foot of dirt and leaves. 

The sun goes down, and he shoves the log, sliding the hidden door open enough to drop down into the darkness and slide the door shut over him. A human couldn't manage the weight, but a Bigfoot certainly can. 

Once in the holding room, he keeps the bracelet off long enough to spot a door to his right. He turns human, considers his options, and then politely knocks on the solid metal. No answer, but not moaning voices either. 

He could probably manage the night in this holding area. But just to be safe…

He pulls out one of the last things they got from Heathcliffe prior to blowing the gate closed (for now. He hopes) to at least foil part of Reconciliation’s plan. A universal lock pick. Holding it against the metal, gears whir and tumblers fall until the door swings open. He steps through into a well lit bunker and is immediately greeted by the barrel of a handgun. 

“Shut the door.”

Barclay shuts the door, keeps his hands up in surrender. 

“Give me three good reasons why I shouldn’t shoot you.” The man, tall and lean and clearly comfortable with the weapon in his hand stares him down with steel in his blue eyes.

“I, uh, I’m on a rescue team, see?” He indicates the torn red patch on his jacket, the one volunteer rescuers got when this all went down. 

“How do I know you didn’t steal that from someone who was?”

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

“I’ve run across no fewer than three groups of people claiming to be ‘helpers’ or to offer shelter who then, on all three occasions, tried to kill and eat me.”

“What the fuck, there’s still plenty of food places?”

A huff, “you seem genuinely indignant, so fine; one reason. You need two more.”

“I, I honestly didn’t know if anyone was down here, I just came down because it got dark. There was a party I, uh,” he swallows, ashamed, “I didn’t get to in time. They’re infected now and I didn’t want to get bit.”

“Shit, they’re close and you opened the main door?”

“And closed it!” Barclay says hurriedly, “but if they or anything else does get in, I swear I’ll help you. And I’m damn good in a fight.”

“One reason left.”

“I, I, uh, I’m a good cook?”

“How does that help us in this situation?”

“You still gotta eat, right?”

His walky talky crackles with Mama’s voice, “Barclay, you somewhere safe? Over.”

He doesn’t move.

“Bud, if you’re in trouble gimme your best guess at coordinates and I’ll come. Over.”

“Reason number four: if you kill me, you’ll be dealing with her, and I cannot stress how terrifying she is when someone she loves is hurt.”

The man hesitates, then lowers the gun, nodding. Barclay picks up the walky-talky.

“Found a bunker, staying the night, over and out.”

“Come on, then.” The man waves for Barclay to follow him into the main room, “but if you try anything, know I’m not a man of empty threats.”

“Clearly.” Barclay mutters, taking in the bunker; it’s well supplied, like a miniature house, and if one did not know what was going on outside, it would seem cozy. No longer with terror tunnel vision, he gets a better look at his reluctant host. Short, black hair that’s been combed back, sharp cheekbones and a clean-shaven, handsome face. He’s almost Barclay’s height, which is novel. 

“So, uh, how’d you get such a sweet hiding spot?”

“I am, or was, an FBI agent. I knew where many of the apocalypse fallout shelters were, and was lucky enough to be near one when this all started. I was en route to a town called Kepler.”

“No shit.” Barclay sits down at the tiny kitchen table, “that’s where I’m from. Where we’ve been running the rescue missions out of.”

“I’ll admit I’m not up on how things are going outside. I lost contact with my superiors three days into the epidemic. They were my last tie to what was happening. As I said, the last times I went out to search for others, to try and help if I could, other people posed an issue.” He sighs, sits down across from Barclay, “I guess it’s nice knowing I rid the coming world of three groups of people who would eat others for fun.”

The implications of that statement take a moment to sink in and Barclay is torn between feeling sorry for how frightened the man must have been and understanding just how close he was to dying a few minutes ago.

“I’m sorry you’ve had such shit luck. Maybe the nice digs balance it out?”

A polite laugh, “they do. I was worried at first about getting lonely, but that’s not all that different from how my work life used to be. Most people don’t want to pal around with a man in black on a mission.”

“That does explain the suit.” Barclay points to the slacks and dress shirt the man is wearing and the jacket hung over a nearby chair.

The man blushes, “I, uh, I’ve only had my work clothes, most of which were suits. Plus, they make me feel a bit more like...well, like myself I guess. That’s always been my fear of apocalyptic scenarios; that’d I’d stop being me and become some faceless creature bent on survival.”

Barclay shudders, “yeah, I get that.”

A hand extends, blue eyes taking on a bit of warmth, “I’m Joseph. Joseph Stern.”

“Barclay.” Barclay shakes his hand, noting the way Joseph inhales sharply at the touch.

“Are you hungry? The food in here is about what you’d expect, but it’s still food.”

“Here, lemme see what I can do.”

Joseph shows him the shelves of canned food, instant ramen, and MREs, and Barclay sets to work in the weird little kitchen. The bunker must have a generator running of some non-electrical source of power, because he’s able to get a hotplate working. Cooking soothes him, a familiar rhythm in an alien space. Joseph sits nearby, sometimes talking with him and sometimes inventorying his supplies. It’s been awhile since he spoke this easily with someone; he loves his friends, but they can talk over him very easily. 

When he presents the two bowls, Joseph’s face lights up.

“This, this looks amazing! How did you do this from all that? Wait, is that Spam?”

“Yep.” Barclay twirls some ramen on his fork, “adds a hell of a lot of salt and it’s actually pretty nice deep fried.”

Joseph takes a bite and moans, “lord, I’ve missed food. Er” he clears his throat, “that came out wrong.”

“Bit of a foodie are we?” Barclay teases, bumping Joseph’s shin with his toe.

“Yes, actually. I traveled a lot for work, and food is a great way to get to know a place. Plus, people always talk easier in restaurants, so it’s an excellent way to do recon.”

“What’s your favorite thing you’ve ever eaten?”

“Hmmmmmm. Is it tacky to say foie gras fries I had once?”

“No and holy shit that sounds good.”

“Oh, it was. I do love a good fried rice though; like, the kind you get from some hole in the wall place that just sells every kind of Asian cuisine mushed together.”

“Mmm, I haven’t made fried rice in awhile. Maybe I should do that when I get back.”

“Oh, right. How far is-”

The walky talky squeaks and Barclay grabs it in a flash.

“Mama, that you? Over.”

“Yep, it’s me. Indrid got a word to Aubrey through the ol’ third eye and says to stay indoors all through tomorrow and into the next day. Gonna rain buckets, make the roads rough for anyone who’s human but not that dangerous for an oozer. You feel me? Over.”

“Copy that. I’ll stay put here. Over.”

“We’ll let you know when it’s clear. Over and out.”

“Looks like I’m staying here a little longer.”

“That’s absolutely fine. Did she say third eye?”

“Uh, hey, you wanna grab dessert? I saw some Twinkies on those shelves and haven’t had them in ages.”

Joseph raises his eyebrow in a way that indicates he knows exactly what Barclay is doing, but follows him all the same. They spend the evening eating baked goods of dubious quality and talking on the couch. At some point Barclay adjusts, bumping against Joseph, but rather than pull away the agent just lays his legs across his lap. When the time comes to sleep, Joseph shows him to a bedroom behind yet another heavily fortified door. 

“This is kinda…”

‘Grim? I agree.” They stand between the two small beds in the grey room, the lamp buzzing above them. Joseph’s is on the right, somehow more tidily made than the one that hasn’t been touched. 

“We could, um, push them together. If that’s something you’re comfortable with. Might feel less like a prison and be warmer too.”

“Works for me.” Barclay pushes his bed away from the wall. Were it safe to do so, he’d show off, by lifting it over his head. He bets Joseph would like that.

Barclay waits until Joseph is changing into pajamas to strip down to his boxers and slide under the covers, not wanting to presume his comfort with Barclay’s mostly naked body. Judging by the appreciative look he gets when Joseph lifts the covers and stares, he didn’t need to be so concerned. 

“Y’know, you can just ask for a hug.” He chuckles when he notices Joseph hesitantly inching closer. 

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortableAH.” He laughs as Barclay pulls him into a hug, smoothing his hands along his soft pajamas. 

“Ohhhh” the sigh is soft, chaste, but still dripping with want, “this feels nice.” His fingers trail up and down Barclay’s chest.

“Mmm, but we both gotta rest up. Been a long day. Get some sleep, agent.” 

Ever since the Reconciliation-generated illness broke the perimeter, the other Lodge residents have had trouble sleeping. Barclay’s gotten into the habit of kissing their foreheads; for his kind on Sylvain, it was always a gesture of protection. So when he kisses the top of Joseph’s head, it’s purely out of habit. 

Joseph just sighs again and murmurs, “goodnight, Barclay.”

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

He wakes up before Joseph, gives him a much more deliberate kiss on the cheek and heads out into the main bunker. Makes coffee and a simple breakfast, revels in the delight on Joseph’s face when he walks out and sees the meal waiting for him.

They play cards after breakfast, Joseph better at BlackJack and Barclay better at poker. Try their hands at a chess match, though Barclay is rusty (but more than happy to let a handsome guy show off for him). Joseph digs out what books are available, so they can read now and then. But mostly, they just talk. Joseph talks about his work, about his interest in the paranormal. Barclay talks about the Lodge, his friends, offers a carefully edited series of stories from his traveling days. 

They’re laid out on the couch, Barclay functionally spooning the smaller man as they read. He doesn’t notice he’s running his hand up and down his side until Joseph moans.

“Will, um, will you keep doing that? I, it’s been awhile since I’ve been touched like that. But, um, more to the point, I like it when you touch me. So, please?”

“Course.” Barclay grins, sets his book down so he can loop his other arm under Joseph’s head. He slows his strokes, takes time to savor the muscle he feels under the dress shirt. Even in his human form, he can smell that the agent is aroused. Then again, the fact he’s twitching his hips is kind of a give away.

Barclay rumbles out a laugh, leans forward and nuzzles the back of his neck, kissing it when Joseph gasps. 

“Barclay, will you--that is, I want, unnnnfhcuck” He moans when Barclay gently nips the base of his neck, trailing little lovebites all over his throat. 

“What is it babe? What do you want?” Barclay bites his ear just as he’s trying to answer, causing another whimper in place of a reply.

“Oh fuck you.” Joseph snickers, turning his head to kiss him, the awkward angle doing nothing to dampen the hunger in it.

“Can if you want to.”

“Good lord yes” Both Joseph’s hands find his arm, clinging to him as he wiggles his ass backwards to grind against him. Barclay’s cock eagerly responds, and Joseph groans, excited, “oh yes I like that very much.”

“Not sure you’re ready for that yet, babe. Much as I like the idea of cumming in you until you’re fucking dripping, rather be on the safe side and use a condom the first time I fuck you into the ground.”

“Figures that’s one of the things I haven’t found in this place.” Joseph grumbles as Barclay unbuttons his slacks.

“Think I got something you’ll like just as well.”

“Okay, oh, ohOkay.” Joseph tips inelegantly backwards as Barclay yanks off his pants and underwear. Barclay growls, hooks his legs over his shoulders and dives forward.

“FUCK” Joseph grips his head, pulling him closer as he laps at him, “ohlord, oh thank you, fuck.” 

Barclay growls, does it again when the noise makes the agent tense and moan. Chuckles with each new sound of pleasure, drinking them in as he relishes Joseph filling his senses. 

“Fuck, shit, Barclay you’re going positively wild and I love itGAHhhnnnyes.” Slick coats Barclay’s bear as he drags his face up so he can suck Joseph’s dick. God almighty does he want to be inside him, want to make him scream as he fucks him open in both forms, want to watch his body bounce and strain to take his Sylph form while those blue eyes go teary with pleasure.

He cups Joseph’s ass with both hands, pressing him as hard against him as he can manage, his focus stripped down to doing whatever it takes to make him cum.

“Fuck, fuck, Barclay, ohlordohfuckme, like that, please just like that.” His ass tenses under his hands and Barclay flicks his tongue out one last time as he cums, panting and still pleading for more. 

Taking care not to actually hurt him, Barclay hauls Joseph so he’s laying on the couch before pouncing on him, kissing him until he’s gasping, growling and rumbling praise as Joseph manages to get his jeans open.

“That’s it babe, jack me off, lemme cum all over you, oh fucking-A that’s good.”

Joseph moans a little at the compliment, then smirks, “you have a thing for marking me, big guy?”

“Fuck yeah I do.” Barclay sinks his teeth into his shoulder, nearly howls when that makes Joseph speed up. 

The agent swiftly undoes the buttons on his dress shirt, running his hands across his chest as he grins teasingly up at Barclay, “you want to cum on this, want me to let you make a mess of me?”

“Uhhuh, fuck, Joseph, you’re all mine babe, all mine.” He drops down to kiss him, pumping his hips so his cock fuck’s Joseph’s fist over and over again. He’s growling uncontrollably, kisses turning messy feral as he licks and nips at the human���s lips and neck.

When he cums he buries the sound against Joseph’s throat, praying he can’t notice how non-human it is. Glancing down gives him a perfect look at the last of his cum dripping onto the agent’s stomach, and he whines, low and animal, with affectionate want.

“That, that was, ha” Joseph kisses his cheek, “good lord I can’t remember the last time a hook up felt that good.”

“Glad you liked it.” Barclay smiles at him, kisses his nose.

“I did. I like you too, Barclay. So much.”

The come down on the couch together, cuddled up and trading innocent kisses between whispers of affection. 

As they’re cleaning up, Barclay picks up the walky-talky, intending to call Mama for an update, “y’know, I meant to ask last night; what were you going to Kepler for?”

“My work with the UP. I was investigating a string of disappearances tied to Bigfoot.”

Barclay drops the device.

“I know, it sounds silly in the face of what happened next.”

“Uh huh, right, I mean, it’s good to have a goal-”

“Barclay, this is Mama, we got the all clear to pick you up. Over.”

Joseph looks at the radio, visibly sad but clearly resolve to the fact Barclay will leave him. 

He could do just that. Leave him here to keep fending for himself. Pretend this never happened. Pretend he doesn’t matter. 

Keeping an eye on Joseph, he gives Mama the nearest spot on the road to pick him up.

“And, uh, Mama? Tell Ned he’ll be picking up two people. I found someone I can’t bear to leave behind. Over.” He holds out his hand. Joseph looks at it, then around the room, then at his face. 

Then he smiles, and takes his hand.

Barclay knows they’ll be explaining to do down the road. Bu right now, that doesn’t scare him. Right now, Joseph’s hand is in his, and that’s all that matters.