#Lazlos lounging
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More of my glamour bard Navi Valius! Friend had the idea to give him golden top surgery scars and I HAD to draw it immediately
#he’s a married man play flirting with his fellow fey partner . im so sorry to the people that seem to like him#he’s being truthful he doesn’t bite he ••• •••••• •••• • •••#Navi valius#my art#satyr#glamour bard#my ocs#dnd ocs#dnd oc#dungeons and dragons#dungeons and drawings#dungeons and dragons art#dnd artists#dnd#dnd oc art#dnd art#artists on tumblr#I need to draw more of his husband but his husband is so much of my type that I get too flustered to draw him it’s maddening#lazlos lounging#since I’m extra talky^_^
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[previous]
She doesn't even care that he has literal stink fumes coming off of him
Pascal got a promo but Vidcund is lacking a few skills still
Okay, Lazlo is officially smitten with Erin xD
Their wishes ran out and they both wanted to dine out so I sent them to FM. Which was apparently enough for Erin to catch some feelings too :D
I had no idea they could have a fear of having their picture taken with someone else.
Unfortunately for Erin I had already pressed the button, sorry!
It didn't take them long to take things forward either. Erin is moving as fast as a romance sim would
Lazlo wanted to ask her back home and she agreed.
But he chickened out when they made it back and haven't wished for more than flirt and I ended the date. They were tired
Pascal is older than Lazlo and I think he would do the smart thing and go get help.
Nice!
Unfortunately for him though, the promotion sent him home before he could pee. He had went to work with an almost full bladder thanks to the maid he couldn't make it to the toilet
This is your fault! Why are you laughing at him??
Apparently it is Cass' birthday already! They all fawn over her a lot and I actually remembered it was her birthday so why not have a little cake?
Asking attention from Uncle Vidcund as her first action as a toddler xD
Uncle Lazlo is taking her to the potty right after.
Well.... she is something xD I'm very curious (hehe) how she's going to look like when she grows up.
Kid, no xD
Pretty looking vomit at least xD
Oh, Erin wants more! Lazlo wants to go out again as well so....
There she is. Lazlo is gone! 2nd date and already in love.
Lazlo had a wish to woohoo her but I wanted Erin to roll it as well before I made it happen and she did!
They are taking advantage of the empty lounge area.
Didn't know this would count as public woohoo - first woohoo in a public place, I admire the courage
As you can see, once is not enough. They wished to woohoo again xD
Damn, now they are done!
Lazlo rolled a want to get engaged to Erin but it was from the date thing so I didn't lock it in. It then rolled to this, can't say I ever saw that before.
#sims 2#sims 2 gameplay#uberhood#Curious Brothers#Curious Family#Strangetown#Pascal Curious#Vidcund Curious#Lazlo Curious#Cassiopeia Curious
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Lazlo was well rested and had the guts to ask Crystal Vu on a date to Lulu Lounge
She reminds me of Barbie, she's so pretty
#i made her so pretty - I love her#rotational gameplay#sims 2#ts2#curious1#curious household#strangetown1#strangetown
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Jazz/pop singer Viktor Lazlo
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Orestes Fasting and Pylades Drunk (A Young Revolutionary!Zemo x Non-Binary Reader Oneshot)
(a/n: so, in honor of barricade day, have this young revolutionary!Zemo fic, which is basically just canon Enjoltaire dynamics but with a Zemo/reader twist on it, because that dynamic is literally my whole heart. Consider this a weird twisted Les Mis au if you want to, but you don’t need to know the book or musical to enjoy this, if it can be enjoyed...)
Synopsis: Helmut recalls the story of how he came to be the ruthless man he is and, more specifically, how he came into possession of his strange purple mask.
Tags: Canon Compliant, Angst, Young!Zemo, Non-Binary!Reader, Death, Enemies to Friends With Benefits to Lovers????, Implied Sexual Content, Friendship, Pining, Revolution, Speedrunning A Slow Burn
Rating: M (+16)
Warnings: Major Character Death, Implied Sexual Content, Gun Violence, Drinking, Minor Homophobia/Transphobia (it’s one sentence near the end and it’s very vague coming from Heinrich), Swearing, Survivor’s Guilt, Really Just Death Everywhere
Word Count: 10,200~
“What’s with the mask?”
The question was innocent enough.
Sam posed it while lounging on the expensive couch of Zemo’s Riga apartment, head tilted back and eyes closed in silent contemplation.
Bucky remained silent as Zemo glanced over from his place at the counter. Outside, the sun was long gone, giving way to a stunning moonrise over the city that poured through the stained glass windows and lit up the night with its glow. It was quiet, much quieter than things usually were between the trio. Still, things being quiet didn’t mean they weren’t tense.
Clenching his teeth, he took in a long breath through his nose. “I am unsure what you mean by that, Sam,”
“The mask,” Sam pushed, “you know, the one you wore during the fight in Madripoor. What’s the deal with that?”
“Ah yes. That mask,” As if on cue, Zemo took a long swig from his glass. It burned all the way down. He didn’t speak again, though, instead choosing to let his gaze fall on the elaborate tilework above his countertops, tracing the patterns with his eyes. Anything to divert himself from the thoughts that rushed back into his mind at the thought of the knit piece of cloth that sat firmly in his inner coat pocket.
Unfortunately for him, Sam wasn’t satisfied with letting the topic fizzle out. “Come on man,” he griped, rubbing a hand over his face, “we got you out of prison, so you owe us one. In fact, you owe us a lot. So, spill. What the hell is the deal with it? Were you Sokovian batman or something?”
That urged a dry laugh from the baron’s lips as he set his crystal glass on the counter with a little more force than was necessary. “Are you always so interested in your captives’ personal lives?”
“Usually,” Bucky chimed in dryly.
“I suppose I’m outnumbered,” Zemo sighed. The bile rising in his throat was easy enough to force down as he turned himself out on his stool to face the room. It wasn’t the right time for true weakness, not yet, but he couldn’t deny that painting himself in a desirable light and offering the pair honesty might give him the upper hand. So, he folded.
Slowly he retrieved the purple mask from his coat and turned it over in his hands. It still fit after all the years it had sat gathering dust in his storage unit which was a blessing in its own right. It still served its original purpose too. That mask had seen horrors beyond imagination, had been washed clean of blood more times than could be counted. Did it hold the memories of the things it had seen within its fabrics as Zemo did in his mind? Or was it as naive as he had been at the time of its creation? He let out a bitter laugh. That was a question they would have asked him.
As he exchanged his literal mask for one entirely emotional, Zemo leaned back on his stool and managed a smile. “How educated are you on Sokovian politics?”
Sam shut his eyes again, letting his head lol back once more. “I went to public school, so I don’t think I even knew Sokovia existed until it didn’t,”
“I know enough,” Bucky added. From his place leaning against the way, ever vigilant and ready to jump into an imagined battle, he turned to face Zemo and crossed his arms. “Hydra had fingers in the government there, more so than other places. There was a big power struggle in the ’90s when the king died, right? Because people wanted democracy, and they didn’t want the little shithead prince to take over,”
“Yes,” Zemo nodded, “My cousin Emil. I’m glad you’re familiar,”
A spluttered laugh escaped Sam’s lips as he shot up. “I know I shouldn’t be surprised by this stuff anymore, but damn,”
“He and I weren’t close,” Zemo waved his hand dismissively, and yet there was a strange sadness in his eyes. It wasn’t for his cousin, though. Not in the least. “But James was correct, there were riots in the streets when the king died. They were shut down quickly by the National Guard, though, who had more than a little help from Hydra’s favorite supersoldiers once they realized just how much power the citizens held. What street were you assigned to, James?”
Bucky sucked in his cheeks, eyes falling to the floor, but before Sam could butt in and defend him he had muttered an answer. “I cleared the barricade at 18th Avenue, the second largest. Those kids fought valiantly,”
Zemo hummed lowly. “And so they did,”
“Okay, what does any of this have to do with your stupid purple mask?” Sam exclaimed.
He was sitting up fully now, face turned to where Zemo had stood from his stool and begun to round the bar. His mask still sat in a small ball on the marble. It seemed to be a member of the conversation all its own, silent and sure, drawing all three men together as it weaved a story from the past into the present with its very presence.
“That mask served me well and hid my identity when I stood against the very men that were serving my family,” Zemo muttered, letting his fingers brush the fabric gently. The names of the lost sat heavy on his very soul even if they would never pass from his lips.
Hans, Andrei, Ivan, Vladimir, Anton, Lazlo, Nicholas, little Sebastian…
Y/N.
“I was young then, too young for my own good,” he said softly, “naive and hopeful and convinced that the world was able to change for the better if I simply willed it to be… so when I discovered the connection between my family and Hydra I packed up my things, emptied my bank account, and moved into a tiny apartment with another like-minded friend, Hans Perlitch,” a soft laugh escaped him, genuine and youthful and all too honest, “We preached to the hungry masses of a world free from the thumb of the elite and all the while we would return home to a heated apartment and a stocked pantry. Still, we were well-liked and gathered a bit of a following. That was when everything changed, the early fall of 1997…”
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“You know, for someone who claims to be as smart as you say you are, you’re quite a fool,”
The voice came from the back of the room, smoke still hanging thick in the air from the cigarettes shared by the masses of students that had packed the tiny repurposed stockroom of the bar while Helmut had given his speech for the week.
He didn’t give the interloper the dignity of his full attention as he gathered a few of his scattered notes from the table that served as his soapbox. Still, he was in a generally good mood. Almost double the usual students had shown up for the meeting and a few had even chimed in to ask questions, so he took a deep breath and resigned himself to the fact that rooting out one ignorant opposer now would mean less work in the long run. “I’ve never claimed to be smart, so I’m not quite sure what you’re referring to,”
A scoff came from the back of the room, but the person made no effort to come closer. “You can change your last name and present yourself as a member of the public all you want, but someday someone is gonna recognize that pretty face of yours, and your whole revolution is going to come crumbling to the ground,”
Now that was enough to make him pause.
“How did you-”
“How could I not?”
It was sardonic, biting and harsh in the worst of ways. Everything about the tone made Helmut’s blood boil beneath his skin. He was not one who enjoyed being threatened or outdone. Still, the play was out of his hands now, should this strange intruder choose to ruin him.
Biting his tongue, he finally turned to face them. “You have my attention, now what do you want?”
Across the room, the stranger remained unphased. They were relatively unremarkable, a bottle of cheap beer held firmly in their grip as they toasted to nothing and drank down the remaining dregs. With a smile and a chuckle, they propped their feet up on the small, round table before them. Something about that sight lit a fire in Helmut’s chest. He didn’t know who they were, or why he was there, but he was certain that he despised them already.
“I don’t want anything,” They replied, and with a certain grandness reserved for a gamin mocking the bourgeoisie, they flourished with their hands, letting their booted feet drop to the ground as they stood and bowed. “I’m just saying that if you’re trying to convince people that you’re not the missing baron while you’re pretending to be all impoverished and rallying us commoners, you might want to change more than your last name and your fashion sense,”
Helmut gritted his teeth. “So what? Did you come here just to rub my face in it, or are you going to help me make a change?”
That elicited a small snort from the stranger, but they did take the opportunity to traipse up to meet him at his table, leaning on the edge as they gazed up at him with a strange look in their eyes that he couldn’t quite identify. Their face was soft upon closer examination, alive and bright with a merriment that only came from intoxication. It made Helmut sneer involuntarily.
Licking their lips, they murmured, “Make a change? Is that what you think you’re doing?” and as they let a giggle escape their parted lips Helmut lost it.
He gasped them firmly by the front of their baggy sweater and dragged them in close. “At least I’m trying! What are you doing about it? Extorting the only person who might be able to actually make a change in this shithole of a country? That’s so much more helpful!”
Their faces were inches apart as Helmut spat his words like venom and yet the stranger never stopped smiling. It was almost dopey, the grin that made its way across their lips. Helmut couldn’t stand it.
“You know, baron,” they purred, setting down their empty bottle on the table beside them, “I like you. I might just stick around here for a little while, see what else about your little plan I can pick apart,”
Never in his life had Helmut been less thrilled for someone to join his cause.
“Why are you here anyway,” he groaned, releasing their shirt, “don’t you have something better to do with your Friday night than bother me?” and, as an extra jab, he added, “besides drinking yourself to death, of course,”
The jab didn’t land, though.
Taking it all in stride, the stranger simply grinned as if they too knew how badly they stank of cheap alcohol and was thrilled that someone had noticed. “Anton invited me. He said I should get out more, make some friends. It’s just a coincidence that I happened to recognize you while writing down an itemized list of all the things you got wrong while you grandstanded,” There was a pride in their words, a giddy energy burbling just beneath the surface of their skin, and suddenly it all made sense.
Anton was newer to their group, a poet and a free thinker, something hard to find in the slums of Novi Grad. Still, he lightened the impromptu meetings up with his smile and would often spend the hour scrawling away fervently in his notebook as he immortalized each and every word that was said “for posterity”. Helmut was sure that only someone as accepting as Anton would ever choose to spend their time with someone quite as insufferable as the person before him. Suddenly, and uncomfortably, he became aware that he didn’t even know their name.
Swallowing down a nasty barb, Helmut sighed and offered up his hand, which the stranger took after a moment of pause. “And you are?”
“Y/N,” They replied.
“Well, Y/N,” he spat their name from his mouth like a cherry pit, “I suppose I’ll have to get used to having a man like you-”
“Don’t call me that,”
Helmut cocked his head to the side. “Pardon?”
“Don’t call me a man,” Y/N replied, “and before you ask I don’t want to be called a woman either. I’m just… I’m just Y/N, at least for now I am, it’s not like I’d give a rich brat like you my legal name while we’re mixed up in all this illegal, halfway-treasonous nonsense you insist on spouting. Maybe next week I’ll be something completely different and new. Until I tell you otherwise, though, I’m just Y/N, your highness,”
“Do I dare dream that that means you might learn to respect my ideas?” Helmut sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face and choosing to ignore the sarcastic address in the hopes of letting such things fizzle and die without encouragement. Unfortunately, the goofy grin he got in return told him that was wishful thinking.
Suddenly, the door opened and Helmut jumped away from his newest tentative ally (if you could call them that) to find Hans standing in the doorway. At his side was Andrei, the third in command of their little posse and final member of the leading triumvirate. They seemed shocked at his lateness and he was quick to try to gather himself up lest they see him as undone as he had found himself while facing the smallest taste of Y/N’s antagonistic nature.
What had he even been doing when they interrupted him? It took him a moment to even gather himself together enough to remember. Scanning the room, his eyes fell on the papers
Oh yes, he had been gathering up his notes…
He was quick to finish the task as Y/N sauntered away towards the door, preparing to push past the two men who stood beyond it.
“You’re Anton’s friend, right?” Hans asked, back stiff. When Y/N nodded he did little more than give a noncommittal noise from the back of his throat. He had always been good with making things impersonal as he crunched the numbers and calculated probabilities. That was why Helmut liked him so much.
Andrei, on the other hand, provided a needed warmth to their leadership in his outreach.
He smiled warmly at Y/N and clapped a hand on their shoulder. “I hope we’ll be seeing more of you around,”
Y/N was quick to offer one of their signature grins before winking back at Helmut in a way that made his stomach turn. “Oh, you’ll be seeing plenty of me from now on,”
“We’re glad to have you,” Andrei replied as they passed.
Before they fully left, though, they turned one last time to shoot Helmut a final smile. “Till next Friday, fearless leader,”
Then, Y/N was gone, lost in the crowd of revelers beyond the small, smokey storeroom and, more importantly, beyond where Helmut’s eyes could follow. Somehow, despite everything, he missed having them there. He quickly chalked the feeling up to wanting to keep a close eye on people with the ability to thwart his best-laid plans and left it at that. Besides, he had no room in his heart for anything besides the betterment of Sokovia.
Attachments meant the possibility of other priorities, and other priorities got people killed. He couldn’t have that happening on his watch.
Thankfully, Hans snapped him out of his melancholy quickly. “Do you have everything sorted?”
Helmut gave a short nod before tapping the pile of papers against the table and setting out towards the door, abandoning his thoughts and feelings about his interaction with Y/N at the table as he exited the room and gathered himself once more into the man his friends needed him to be.
He could only hope that as long as he ignored Y/N’s jabs, they would soon grow tired and be gone within the month once they realized he was anything but afraid of their little games.
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Much to Helmut’s abject disappointment, Y/N did not, in fact, stop showing up.
They did quite the opposite.
Instead of leaving him well enough alone, they showed up to Helmut’s meetings every single Wednesday and Friday for months, always piss drunk and happy to jeer at him from the corner, shouting their unwanted opinions and throwing off every meeting with their nonsense.
It was as if they did it just to get on his nerves, and get on his nerves they did.
As the seasons changed, from spring, to winter, to fall, and, finally, to the very beginnings of summer, so did the types of jabs Y/N decided to throw.
In the beginning it was all business, comments on the idiocy of his plans for a protest based on common police routes or mocking jokes about his unending optimism when it came to fighting the national guard on a large scale, but as things began to get more and more serious on the path towards a full-fledged revolt, they seemed to aim more and more of their vitriol towards Helmut personally.
Sometimes it was a comment on his face or voice. “Ease up pretty boy,” they’d jeer, “keep talking like that and a guardsman might just do more than knock out a few of your perfect teeth,” Other times, which Helmut found infinitely worse, they’d throw a jab at his ability to lead them to victory. “The only thing that waits for us at the end of this is a painful death, especially if you’re not joking about those fucking super soldiers they supposedly have on ice,”
The worst part was that half the time, Y/N was right.
Helmut hated to admit it but it was true. More than once he had to go back and edit his plans to take into account a valid point thrown in by Y/N that he had never even considered. Hell, if it had been anyone else picking him to nothing he would have been grateful, but it wasn’t a well-meaning contributor trying to make the world a better place, it was a drunk who seemed to have one solitary life goal: making his life as miserable as possible. Perhaps that’s why they had devolved to frantic angry fucks behind crates of wine and massive cans of chocolate spread after the worst of their arguments…
Not that Helmut cared for them.
No, he didn’t do attachments. Neither did Y/N. They hated each other, after all.
It was just a way to release their tensions at the end of stressful meetings and nothing more. They were dealing with matters of life and death after all. It was only normal to seek comfort in the warmth of a companion, if he could even call Y/N a companion.
Whether he liked it or not, though, they were they to stay, even if they rarely made themself useful to the cause.
By early June, the drunkard had become close friends with all of the remaining students that still gathered at Helmut’s location for meetings instead of ending up at the offshoots that began to form once the group got too big to pile into the storeroom. Helmut loathed thinking about it, but Y/N was probably invited to more birthdays and Saturday night get-togethers than he ever was. There was something about their smile that drew people in. It made them feel wanted, welcome. Helmut hated that he never got those smiles from Y/N, only ever the mocking, blithe kind that they handed out freely to friends and enemies alike.
He didn’t have time to think about that, though. Not with so much fast approaching as the first pears began to hang from branches down in the royal orchards, soft and ripe and ready to be harvested. Their growth marked King Hugo’s daily weakening. His death could come any day, and when it did, Helmut knew he would need to strike quickly if he truly hoped to overturn the system before the coronation of his cousin. That meant every meeting, now more frequently held throughout the week, was filled to the brim with preparations and planning.
Well, preparations and planning and a healthy dose of Y/N and Helmut yelling at each other about nonsense across the room until Anton or Laszlo stepped in to pull Y/N down into their chair once more so the meeting could resume and they could all go home before things got too late and they were questioned in the street on why they were possibly out and about at such an hour.
Things were no different on that Friday meeting on June 4th.
“Is there anyone here who isn’t already passing out pamphlets in the dorms at NVU tonight?” Helmut asked the room, scanning for a hand that didn’t belong to his least favorite member of the group. Unfortunately, none came up. “Come one now, at least one of you has to be free,”
Y/N groaned. “It’s like you don’t even see my hand waving up here, oh great one,” There they went again with the ridiculous terms of address that made Helmut’s blood sizzle in his veins. He remained composed, though. At least, as composed as he could be given the situation.
“I’m ignoring you because I remember the last time I asked your drunk ass to pass out pamphlets. What round of dominos were you on by the time I showed up to check on you, five or six?”
The scalding remark was enough to get Y/N to sheepishly lower their hand, eyes downcast. It was getting easier and easier for Helmut to manage to shut them up the more frantic meetings got, and he couldn’t say he was displeased by that fact no matter why it was the way that it was. A quiet Y/N meant less chance for mistakes which meant fewer future casualties. Fewer casualties were good, it was what he strived for.
Thankfully for Helmut, a new hand came up.
It belonged to Vladimir, the oldest of the group by a year rounding out at an even 26 years old. He was dependable, definitely the kind who could be trusted to run an errand as important as the one Helmut needed to have done. The thought that Vladimir would be the one to pick up the shipment of smuggled guns was a relief. He made as much evident while explaining their next moves.
Throughout the remainder of the meeting, though, Helmut couldn’t help but feel watched. It didn’t last long, half an hour at most. Still, there was the creeping itch on the back of his neck that told him there were eyes on him that he wasn’t aware of. Only when the group was dismissed and the feeling didn’t go away did he realize exactly who was staring at him so intently.
“I hope you know I really did intend to hand out those pamphlets,” Y/N said once they were the last one remaining, the rest of the group having trickled out to get food and drinks before heading home for the night. It wasn’t unusual for Helmut and Y/N to be the last two remaining at the end of a meeting. That didn’t mean he was happy about it though.
So, instead of offering up an acknowledgment, he busied himself with plotting out a few potential spots to barricade the roads and hunker down when things got messy in highlighter on the large, laminated map of Novi Grad that had found its home on the big front table.
Y/N didn’t let up, though. They never did. “I know you don’t believe me, why would you, but I did. I just wanted to loosen them up before I started talking about overthrowing the damn government, which is a terrible plan, by the way. Have I told you that lately?”
“Only every time you see me,” Helmut sighed.
Somehow, that made Y/N smile, soft and sarcastic and all too honest. Helmut didn’t know how they managed it. Secretly, he envied their neverending veracity. He’d never say that though. No, not while they crossed the floor and offered up a large bottle of whiskey.
“A drink, dear leader?”
“Absolutely not” He griped, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How many times do I need to remind you I don’t drink?”
“Too many,”
“For once, I agree with you,”
A laugh passed through Y/N’s plush lips and, regrettably, Helmut couldn’t help but look up at them and relish in the sight. Their hair was a bit longer than they usually grew it out, a particularly unruly piece tucked behind their ear. Helmut hated that he noticed little details like that, despised the way he had come to know the soft dip of their cupid’s bow and the warmth of their palm. It was still Y/N, after all, for better or worse. He couldn’t help but allow himself those small recognitions though. It made him feel human, or something close to it.
Still, all good things must come to an end, and they did when Y/N decided to speak again. “You know, the longer I show up for these stupid meetings, the more I think you’re actually gonna try to go up against those bastards,”
Helmut should have known the barb was coming, but perhaps his better nature, if it truly existed, prevented that. Nevertheless, he sighed into his hands as he dropped his highlighter. “If I didn’t intend to actually try to change things, why would I have spent the last year of my life living in a shitty apartment and putting up with you?”
“You’d be surprised the things people do and never finish. Not everyone is as driven as you are,” Y/N huffed. They were quick to seat themself on the table once Helmut wasn’t actively working over it, smearing the highlighter away on their corduroy pants. “Nobody would blame you if you did tap out, you know. There are plenty of ways to make a change that don’t involve trying to take down the entire local Sokovian military force until they decide to give you what you want,”
“The changes we could make without a revolt wouldn’t really be changes, they’d just be the illusion of changes. You know that as well as I do,” Helmut replied with a groan.
Two of the fingers from Y/N’s free hand, the one that wasn’t gripping their bottle like a lifeline, pointed towards the closed door behind them. “Is living under our current system and knowing they have fingers in a few less-than-savory organizations really worse than leading all of your friends to their deaths?”
That struck a nerve in Helmut’s chest.
“And who says that has to be true?”
“Come on, oh benevolent and giving baron,” Y/N’s voice was light yet pointed, like a million minuscule particles of glass flying through the air, “Do you really think we’re all gonna make it out of a fight with the big guys? And even if all of us do, can you say the same for the poor kids fighting where we aren’t?”
“I never said there would be no casualties-”
“What about Sebastian? The kid is barely 12 and I know you’re going to say that if he tries to show up, you’re gonna send him home, but I think you underestimate how many people will want even someone as young as him dead if they catch him in the street. Are you really going to let him risk his life for this? A half-assed plan for you to get revenge on your asshole relatives for making your childhood shitty?”
“You know that’s not what this is about,”
“Do I?” Y/N asked, and for just a second, no, a millisecond, Helmut wasn’t sure anymore. It was only a brief moment though, nothing more. The fact that they could make him doubt himself do deeply though… it was a problem. Calling it that was an understatement, but there was no other way to put it that truly worked.
Helmut growled lowly and nodded, pushing the doubt from his mind. He was right. He had to be right. What would he be if he was wrong? A spoiled rich boy who was leading his friends to their dooms for nothing?
No.
He had to be right, so he was. It was as simple as that.
“Is there anything else you need to critique, or can you leave me to work now?” Helmut asked. His patience had long since worn thin. That didn’t matter much to Y/N, though. They liked to wear him down thin, see just how far they could push without breaking his resolve. It was a game they were both intimately acquainted with.
They played their hand expertly. “In fact,” Y/N smiled while they spoke, another mocking little grin that made Helmut’s stomach turn in the best and worst of ways, “there is one last thing I needed to ask about,”
“I shudder to think what it might be,”
“How are you going to hide your face?”
The question caught Helmut off-guard as he leaned back on his heels, letting his forearms brace against the edge of the table, his face scrunching up in thought. “What?”
Y/N gestured absently towards his face before bringing their bottle to their lips. “I’m betting that your family will expect you to be out there whenever we actually stage our attack. If I’m right, that means the soldiers will be looking for you as their top priority, and if they find you, they’ll kill everybody around you just to get a chance to drag you back to mommy and daddy. Even if they don’t kill us on sight we’ll be charged for harboring you without turning you in to the proper authorities. So, how are you going to hide your face?”
Once again, Helmut found himself thinking that, despite their drunken stupor, Y/N might just be right, and he hated it. He hated that he hadn’t thought of it first, hated that it was a valid point, hated that he had no satisfying way to answer the question they had posed. He hated it all.
“I’ll just throw on a bandana,” He managed to grumble, and that was that.
Or, that should have been that, but Y/N scoffed at the idea, setting down their bottle and leaning in close to Helmut’s face. After a moment of contemplation, they brought their hand up to his face and let their thumb come to rest on one of his largest beauty marks, the mole that rested high on the left side of his nose. “I’m afraid that a bandana isn’t going to cover up your absolutely blinding radiance, fearless leader,” There was a softness to their voice, a gentility Helmut was unused to. It made his chest hurt. He hated that too.
“Are you going to offer a solution or are you just going to sit there telling me I’m stupid,” His words were a low groan.
Much to his surprise, though, Y/N reached into their back pocket only to pass him a crumpled purple ball. It was obviously fabric, though the outside seemed to be coated in some sort of weatherproofing, and upon closer inspection, once unraveled, two distinct eyeholes became visible.
“Is this-”
“A mask?” Y/N finished his sentence for him, “Yeah. I figured you wouldn’t think about it, so I whipped something up with some old polyester-based yarn and then I coated it so it wouldn’t be a problem if it got wet. It should still be breathable, though,”
For the first time since he’d known them, Helmut looked up at Y/N and thought that they were incredibly valuable. He still hated them, of course he did. Y/N was Y/N and he was himself and they hated each other because they were, at their basest, entirely incompatible.
At his silence, Y/N looked away, almost nervous. “I hope it’s alright,”
“It’s more than alright,” Helmut said as kindly as he could possibly manage, “I hate to say this, but owe you one,”
“Could I collect on that debt now?” Minutely, Y/N leaned closer, eyes falling to Helmut’s lips.
He swallowed thickly. “You’re drunk, Y/N,”
“I know I am. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Why would that be wonderful?”
“Because that means I won’t remember this,” And, with that, they closed the gap between the two of them and captured Helmut’s lips in his own.
Kissing Y/N wasn’t a new thing. They had kissed plenty of times during their frenzied hookups; soft kisses and hard kisses and long kisses and short kisses. Still, Helmut would never get used to the thrill of it. That was yet another thing he hated about Y/N. He could never quite get used to them. Every single interaction always felt as fresh and raw as their first.
With a fervor only he could muster, Helmut kissed back and pushed at Y/N’s hips, pressing them harder into the table below, and just as quickly as he had gained a physical mask, he had lost his emotional one.
------------
In the end, that was the last time Helmut had slept with Y/N.
They had fallen together, two sweaty half-dressed bodies laid out over the laminated map of Novi Grad, and then Y/N had gathered themself up and left with little more than one last kiss pressed to Helmut’s temple. By the time he himself had gotten home to Hans, the news of King Hugo’s death was almost an hour old.
After a few phone calls to lay the final plans and keep every sect of their band of revolutionaries on the same schedules, things rolled into motion like a finely tuned machine.
On the morning of June 5th, the barricades rose and Helmut wore his mask proudly as his people fought for freedom in the streets he had walked since childhood. Y/N was beside him.
By the early hours of June 6th, they were the only barricade that remained.
Helmut should have known that once things got too challenging that the super soldiers would be released, he should have anticipated that they’d be waiting for the backlash once king Hugo passed, and yet he hadn’t. He had blindly walked into the disaster with his eyes wide open. There was no one to blame but himself.
Little Sebastian, just one month shy of 13 years old, was dead, shot at long distance when he had attempted to grab a fallen box of bullets that had toppled over the peak of the jumble of hoarded furniture and scrap metal. Anton was dead too, taken at gunpoint while he stood guard at a side street and executed with his eyes bound and a sonnet on his lips. Even Ivan, stoic and strong Ivan who bound his knuckles in boxer’s tape and sparred with Helmut when he needed to clear his head, had been caught in the initial fire and bled out over the course of the day, dying with a smile on his face as he leaned on a discarded chair.
I never said there’d be no casualties.
His own words rang in his ears, taunted him with every bullet he shot and every breath he dragged into his aching lungs. How had he ever been so naive to believe that even one life could be expendable?
The real lowest point came at almost midnight when Helmut picked up a call from a student on another barricade only to met with screaming. “Winter is coming!” They had wailed, “Winter is coming!” and then they had died, right there over speakerphone. Helmut had the good sense to hang up once it got to the worst of it, the strangled gurgled growing to be too much for the group.
As things truly settled, in those hours so early that the world still considered them night, Helmut still stood vigilant. That’s when Y/N finally approached.
They wore no smile, not like usual. Instead, their face was stoic as they came to stand beside Helmut and waited silently for a moment. He took the chance to beat them to the punch.
“You don’t have to tell me you were right. I know you were,” I hate you for it.
Y/N offered a gentle, humorless laugh. “I wouldn’t rub it in at a time like this, but yeah, I was,” I know you do. I hate myself for it too.
Slowly, Helmut brought a hand to his face, scrubbing the exhaustion away from his eyes. How had it all come to this?
“How much time do you think we have,” Y/N was speaking before he had a chance to say anything more, saving him from having to elaborate on his admission. He was grateful. Grateful to not be alone, grateful to be spared more shame, grateful to see Y/N’s gentle smile one more time. He’d never show it though. No, he was to be the fearless leader till the end.
So, he sucked in a deep breath and stared out into the starry sky. “A few hours at most. I’m surprised they haven’t made another advance after the last big push in the evening when we lost…” he swallowed thickly, “when we lost Anton,”
Licking their lips and pushing back their hair, Y/N sighed. “For what it’s worth, for a minute there I really believed you could do it,”
It was a bigger compliment than it seemed and they both knew it, but neither acknowledged it. Instead, Helmut gestured absently towards the half-full bottle of wine in Y/N’s hand. “You mind if I have a drink of that?”
A grin spread across their lips, but it was as far from mocking as was possible as they passed the bottle over.
“I never thought I’d see the day,”
Lifting the bottom of his mask to take a swig, Helmut groaned at the deep, bitter burn of it. “Don’t get used to it,” He replaced the fabric quickly before passing the bottle back.
“I’ll try not to,”
“Happy 20th, by the way,” Y/N added, “this is a hell of a way to celebrate, but it’s very you,”
Helmut froze as the realization sunk in that it was, in fact, the 6th of June, even if it had only been that way for a couple hours.
There had been a party planned. It was just an intimate thing, cake and a few card games in the afternoon with his closest friends, but that was long behind them now, forgotten in favor of the larger cause. To Y/N, though, there was never a larger cause than Helmut himself. He was realizing that slowly. In a bitter moment of realization, he laughed.
“What?”
“You weren’t invited,”
They quirked up an eyebrow. “Huh?”
“To the birthday party. I didn’t invite you,”
“Well, I’m here now, and this is a pretty good party if I do say so myself. You and me and the revolution all jam-packed together in the middle of a street. Wouldn’t it be cool if the new democracy was born on the same day you were?”
He smiled softly. “It was meant to be,”
“I got you something, you know, even though I knew I wasn’t invited to the party,” Y/N added breathlessly. “It was stupid, just some dumb sweater with a whole bunch of random ass quotes from Machiavelli all over the back, but Anton and I saw it when we visited the better side of town to hang up those fliers for the march a few weeks ago and we knew you had to have it. It’s sitting all wrapped up on my front table,”
“It’s a shame I won’t get to open it today,”
They nodded distantly. “Yeah, a real shame…”
Then, they were quiet again, staring up at the stars mere feet away from each other and yet miles apart, farther than they’d ever been.
Y/N cut through the soundless night first, but not before several silent minutes had passed, filled with only the distant chatter of their surviving friends and the gentle whistling of the breeze over the rooftops above. “When everything goes to shit… with the universe, I mean, not now. Everything’s already gone to shit now. But that notwithstanding, when the world goes kaput and the sun explodes, we’re all gonna be starstuff together, right? You and I and Sebastian and Andrei and Anton and… all of us. We’re gonna be nothing but matter and dust out there in space,”
“Is there a point to this or are you just having an existential crisis?” Helmut muttered, but there was no bite to it.
They just chuckled as their eyes scanned the sky.
“I was just thinking, if all of us are gonna be nothing more than matter and dust and star stuff, it only makes sense that someday, even if it’s a billion years from now, a little part of each of us will be together again as part of some supernova in the sky to be seen by somebody else, and, when that day comes, I think I’m gonna know, and everything is gonna be alright,”
He hummed thoughtfully, running a hand absently over the thick purple knit of his mask, relishing in the gummy softness of the coating on his bare fingertips in the cooling air. “That makes no sense,”
“Do you think I don’t know that?”
“Still, it’s a pretty thought. Anton would have liked it,”
“Yeah, he would have…”
Helmut let his eyes fall from the sky to his companion. They looked so fragile, so broken, that he could barely stand himself, because, if he hadn’t made the stupid choices to lead them here, they never would have felt that way. They’d be curled up in bed somewhere, asleep and safe, far from the cold darkness of the night at his side. It made him sick.
How could he possibly put that to words? How could he apologize for denying every nudge, every chance to turn around? He couldn’t, and it made him as bitter as the wine that Y/N sipped from absently before turning to face him once again.
“Hey, Helmut,” they whispered, and his breath caught in his throat because how dare his voice sound so sweet on their lips? How dare they keep that joy, the joy of hearing his name whispered with reverence on the early morning breeze, real and caring and perfect, away from him for so long? “Do you think I could take a chair from the barricade?”
Just as soon as it had come, the joy was gone. “Why would you need a chair?”
Y/N shrugged. “I want to go sleep,”
“Why can’t you sleep out here?”
“I don’t want to be woken up,”
“We wouldn’t wake you until the fighting was starting back up again-”
“Oh, my darling fearless leader,” their voice was empty, tinny and cold, “I don’t ever want to be woken up,”
Their words pierced Helmut straight through the heart he didn’t know he had. It made him feel so much, so many emotions he had simply not allowed himself out of a misplaced sense of self-preservation. “But we’ll need every able body ready to fight when they send in the super soldiers if we even want a chance at making it out of this,”
The smile that crossed Y/N’s lips didn’t come from a place of joy, nor did it mock Helmut for his blind and dying faith. It was simply there because they did not know how to do anything else. “There’s no making it out of this. Not for me, at least. For you, though… you still have a chance,”
Denial and anger went hand in hand as Helmut sucked his teeth, grinding his molars and letting his hand ghost over his pistol hanging at his hip.
“So you’d really rather die like a coward than take a stand against the evils in the world?” he spat, harsh and cold as the air around them. “Pathetic,”
“Don’t do this now, Helmut, not after we were finally getting somewhere. I don’t want to die with things like that,”
“I’m not the one who’s giving up,” he snapped.
He just needed… something. A reaction. A reason to keep fighting when the war was already lost. Anything. Why couldn’t Y/N light the same fire in him that they’d kindled for months? The fire that had driven him to spend sleepless nights poring over maps and plans and speeches and guns. If he just pushed a little harder, just hit the right button, they’d light it again, he just knew it.
“Please,” the word fell fragile from Y/N’s lips. Not a beg, just a soft plea.
It fell on deaf ears.
“You know what? You can take your chair!” Helmut was shouting then, loud enough that the remaining students on the barricade could hear every word. “Take your chair and leave us to fight while you die in your sleep. If we make it through the day I’ll put the bullet between your eyes myself. Now get out of here! I don’t want to see you again,” There was a cruelty to it, an edge that he thought might just push them off the edge. Still, it wasn’t cruel without reason. Helmut thought that maybe, if he was lucky enough, Y/N would simply leave.
They had no stakes in the results of the revolt, no serious lasting ties that would get them hunted down in the weeks to come if things came to a gruesome end. If he bid them to leave, to disappear from his sight, there was a chance, however small, that they would disappear into the shadows with a chance to live.
Against all odds, though, Y/N smiled one of those empty smiles again and drank down the very last of their wine.
“As your baronship commands,” they whispered, before departing to gather up a chair and disappearing into the restaurant where they had met so many times before.
Then, they were gone, and Helmut was free to sink to the ground as his heart broke and mended and broke again.
------------
As expected, the super soldiers arrived only a couple of hours past Y/N’s departure.
Their arrival was silent, only marked by the slow thud of retreating national guardsmen in the distance. They weren’t needed there anymore, and the less they saw the better.
Helmut watched his friends fall one by one in the panic, the barricade falling to ruin as the soldiers- if they could even be considered that, soldier seemed a far too human term for the monstrous creatures before him- pulled it apart with their bare hands. From there it was just a game of who was caught first in the insanity that ensued.
Nicholas; caught a bullet through the neck.
Vladimir; thrown against a solid stone wall at a speed near impossible.
Lazlo; impaled on a bit of broken wood as the wood exploded.
Andrei; shot 3 times point-blank in the chest as he held the door closed to buy Hans and Helmut a little more time with a love confession for his closest companion falling from his mouth.
Hans…
Helmut didn’t know how Hans died.
He had never asked. All he knew that the shots had come as he wailed Andrei’s name, and then there was a deathly silence in the golden light of the morning sun as Helmut stood alone at the back of the storeroom, taking in the 4 walls that had held the best year of his life.
What remained now?
A failed dream? A pile of bodies? A single survivor waiting for his death?
Helmut didn’t know. He couldn’t fathom it.
The two soldiers sent to finish the job were nameless and nondescript as they slipped through the door, armed with long, silent rifles and hidden by masks not too dissimilar from Helmut’s own. They did not speak, not a word. Instead, they simply raised their guns and took aim at Helmut as he closed his eyes and thought of-
“Wait!”
The word rang out heavy and made the two executioners snap to the side.
“I’m with him! I’m with the revolution! Down with King Emil! Down with the monarchy!”
There, hidden among the crates and shelves of canned goods and glass bottles, was Y/N.
They looked objectively awful, eyes rimmed red and hair mussed up and coated with oil. Still, it was the most beautiful sight Helmut had ever seen.
It was only right that they go together.
Slowly, Y/N made their way across the room to take their place at Helmut’s side. “I know you said you never wanted to see me again, but I assume you’ll make an exception for the circumstances,”
“I never meant it,” he whispered back, and Y/N smiled, “You have to know, I never meant it,”
“Even if you did, I never would have listened-”
Suddenly, one of the soldiers spoke, taking aim straight for Helmut down the barrel of their gun.
“Quiet,”
Y/N only paused for a moment before pressing their hand into his. “Kiss me, Helmut?”
Who was he to deny them?
Pulling off his mask, he pressed his lips to theirs and clasped their hand like it was the last thing he would ever do. When he pulled away, they were smiling one of their old, mocking, joyous smiles.
“Oh, fearless leader… I win,”
The words were a whisper of air against his lips. Before he could fathom the true meaning of them the pair was peppered in a spray of gunfire as Helmut closed his eyes to the world for what should have been the final time.
When he opened them, Y/N was struck dead at his feet.
------------
It was their final winning move, he later realized, the checkmate to a game of chess he never believed would end.
In the end, Y/N had been as correct as they always were.
All the same, he hated them for it.
Some nights, in the darkness of his room back at the summer estate where his father has imprisoned him until further notice, he wondered if Y/N had kissed him because they wanted to or if they had done it to get him to remove his mask long enough that the soldiers would recognize him and spare him. It wouldn’t surprise him. Y/N did have a tendency to be right about things like that.
Ghosts haunted him often.
Not full specters, he would wish for something so merciful. Instead, he saw flashes in the periphery of his vision. Outside his window, he’d hear a child’s laugher and be so sure it was Sebastian until he looked out to find that it was simply a group of the staff’s children playing ball. Or, when the assigned guardsman brought him his dinner, he would glance down the hall and be so sure that a man at the other end was Lazlo, preparing to face a board of proctors as he delivered a thesis he would never write. It never was, though. It never would be.
Worst of all, when he laid awake in his bed as the clock struck twelve, he would feel them beside him.
They had never slept together in the literal sense. Whatever they had shared (love, Helmut would come to realize after many, many years with Heike, painfully hollow without the same kind of flame. He had loved them and simply never known how to show it) was purely physical and contained within that bloody, bloody storeroom that he was sure would be torn down someday soon as they glossed over the casualties and stamped out the evidence. Still, he could feel Y/N beside him in the darkness despite the fact that they had never been there.
Their head on his chest, their body pressed flush to his side, their hot breath fanning over the fabric of his nightshirt, creating a patch of damp warmth in its wake…
It was maddening, an eternal punishment he was doomed to endure for his stupidity. Nevertheless, if he let his brain wander to a better place, a different lifetime, it was almost comforting to feel their ghost wrapped tightly to his side.
When he woke, though, the loss of the dream was more maddening than living through it.
Almost a month after the failed revolution, in the hot and heady days of early July when the wasps buzzed loud at the window and the skies were filled with thunderclouds most of the time, his father finally came to speak to him.
“I trust you spent your birthday how you wished to,” Heinrich said plainly. There was no question to it, just an empty sentiment.
Mockery wasn’t nearly as pleasant when delivered by his father and not his lover, Helmut thought distantly.
“On the contrary, I spent my birthday watching everyone I cared about die,” he snapped back.
Heinrich didn’t offer any sort of commiseration. He simply shrugged and continued on with what he was there to say, not that his son minded much. The less time he spent there the more time Helmut would have to himself, which was preferable to listening to his father’s droning.
“You’re lucky to be alive. The family is on thin ice thanks to that stunt you pulled, but with time we’re all sure that you’ll become an asset if you simply learn to use that fire for something more… productive,”
Who the ‘we’ was went unspoken. It didn’t need to be.
Helmut sighed and looked out the window at the rain falling on the garden. Nicholas would have loved the gardens at this home. He would have pressed every flower at least once in the little book he kept beside him filled with the pieces of the world that he collected as he passed through it. Where would he be kept and collected now that he was dead?
“I’ve called in a favor and enrolled you for military service. You’ll be tested to find your strengths, sent where you’re best suited, and trained from the ground up. Once we know you can be trusted, you might even lead your own squadron and make some friends more of your caliber,”
It took all Helmut’s strength to clench his teeth and hold back the rage he felt in his chest. “When do I leave?”
“As soon as you’re married,”
Married.
The word struck a bolt through the rage and dissolved it, giving way to pure shock. “What the hell do you mean?”
Crossing his arms, Heinrich took to pacing a 2-foot line back and forth in front of the door. “We’ve found a suitable match from a good standing Sokovian family, and they’re willing to look past your little misstep as long as their daughter becomes a baroness and is adequately involved in society. She’ll be here in three days time and you’ll have a week to get acquainted before the wedding,”
“I never said I was going to get married,” Helmut growled, “You can’t make me get married,”
His father stared down at him from above like he was a little boy again. “I can make you do whatever I want. Don’t think I didn’t hear about what happened with that freak they shot down at your side! No son of mine is ending up with someone like-”
In an instant, Helmut had rushed across the room and punched his father square in the jaw. As blood poured down the man’s face, a hiss escaped his son’s lips.
“Never talk about Y/N like that again,”
“So it had a name!”
That earned him another punch, but Heinrich escaped Helmut’s grip quickly, cupping a hand beneath his nose to catch the redness that poured from his face. As he retreated out the door, he turned to deliver his final verdict. “You have three days to get your act together, and maybe, just maybe, if you don’t fuck this up, I’ll let you know where they dumped all your little friends to rot,” And with that, he shut the door behind him and left Helmut to pick up the pieces of his soul.
------------
The tale Zemo wove was a sad one (sans most of the details about Y/N. That was a story whose finer details he would take to his grave) and as he came to a close, the purple fabric between his fingers was a tether to reality. The coating was a bit old, thinner in places than it should have been, but it had remained steady and strong for over 20 years and he didn’t know the first place to start repairing it.
Y/N would have known, they’d been the one to do it in the first place after all, but they were long gone, not even a ghost anymore. Just a name and a face forgotten to time as all the other impoverished students were, buried in an unmarked grave in a place he never learned. It was all that remained of them. The only thing that proved they were ever there at all.
“You know the rest of the story,” he added firmly. “I married Heike, climbed the ranks of the military, had my son… and they were simply lost, an unwritten page in the history of a country that no longer exists,”
Suddenly, though, a deep voice cut in through the heavy air between them.
“Ciczheni,”
“Pardon?” Zemo asked softly, pouring himself a final tumbler of whiskey and stuffing the mask back in his pocket.
“We buried them in Ciczheni,”
He nearly dropped the bottle in his hand.
Bucky was quick to continue, voice low and eyes clouded with memory in a way that only the two of them would ever truly understand. “It’s a tiny town along the border to the Czech Republic. There’s a big open field there, or at least there was, marked with a flat grave marking it as a burial site. I don’t remember the name on it, some random pseudonym, but they’re all there, all 57 dead and buried in the ground under that rock,”
Helmut gave a stiff nod. “I see,” Then, in one long gulp, he downed the whole two fingers of whiskey straight and relished in the way it burned down his throat. When the glass was empty and set down safely on the counter again he was quick to school his expression as he turned away. “I’m afraid all that excitement has exhausted me for the day. Goodnight, gentlemen,”
He was gone down the hallway into his bedroom before the pair had a chance to say another word.
Ciczheni.
As he undressed, he smiled softly, letting a few errant tears drip down his cheeks.
They had been born and raised in that tiny farming town. Sometimes, when he had let himself listen in on their conversations with some of the other members of their small, tight group, they would talk about how much they wanted to return someday, once they’d made enough money to live on for a while if they supported themself by growing a small garden and maybe keeping some chickens. The thought, even then, had always made him smile. Just Y/N and a cottage and a chicken or two.
Sometimes, if he was especially indulgent, he would imagine himself there with them. Sharing a home.
Making a family.
His biological family, the one he had created with marriage and his own flesh and blood, was something different entirely. He had loved them. God, how he’d loved them. Still, it was never the same. He was never at peace. He was never home. There would always be a bitterness there, as bitter as the dark summer wine he’d drunk the night he’d turned 20, a resentment that came with the obligation of creating a place in his heart for them when there never should have been.
For Y/N, though...
He sighed, wrapping himself in his robe and slipping on a pair of fleece pajama pants before crawling between the sheets and laying flat on his back, eyes to the ceiling.
Things wouldn’t have been happy all the time. Hell, they probably wouldn’t have been happy even most of the time. Still, they would have been where they belonged, seated firmly at his side for the rest of their long, wonderful lives.
Ciczheni, he repeated in his mind, then the memorial for Novi Grad. It was a minor detour, adding barely 2 hours more to the whole trip when he had plenty more to spare.
Ciczheni, then Novi Grad, and then, finally, peace.
Beside him, he could feel the phantom limbs wrap around his body, resting their weight firmly on his chest where the guilt and shame and terror built by the day, and for the first time in almost a decade they were not Heike’s. Perhaps, if all went according to plan, they wouldn’t be phantom much longer.
Or, if not, he would wait. He would wait a billion years to disintegrate into stardust and spread across the cosmos in search of them.
Either way, when they were together again, he’d know.
They both would.
--------
a/n: I’m not crying, you’re crying.
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#zemo#baron zemo#helmut zemo#baron helmut zemo#zemo x reader#helmut zemo x reader#baron zemo x reader#baron helmut zemo x reader#barricade day#zemo fanfic
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A/N: I may have gone a bit deep with this one, but it’s essentially take the form of a small case fic that will eventually meet the original prompt. Once again, might want to avoid this one if Sam is your favorite.
***
The Truth Beneath The Lies, Part 2
“Heard you had another fun meeting with Raynard today,” Jackson Porter said in an undertone, joining Deeks at one of the small, square tables in the lounge.
“Yeah, it was great,” Deeks drawled, cupping his hands around a mug of coffee. As was typical, it tasted like something that had previously been ingested. It was hot and caffeinated though, which was enough for Deeks at the moment.
“I feel for you, man.” Jackson shook his head as he pulled out a sub from a white paper bag. “I thought Czicowski was bad enough, but this guy is pure evil.”
“Tell me about it.” Deeks let just enough annoyance bleed into his voice to play his part. Truthfully, Sam had been riding him pretty hard for the last two weeks. While Deeks tried to gain access to the division’s computers and establish rapport with likely suspects, Sam was living up to his alias’ reputation.
Of course, a lot of their meetings were also spent discussing what Deeks had found out about his fellow officers. They still had to pepper in enough “altercations” to keep anyone from getting suspicious, which Deeks personally thought Sam was enjoying just a little bit.
Jackson took a bite of his sandwich, scrutinizing Deeks with uncomfortable closeness. Despite his friendly nature, Deeks suspected there was more hiding underneath his easy smiles and helpfulness. Maybe it was that he reminded Deeks a little too much of himself. Either way, he had to be careful not to reveal too much.
“I gotta ask, what did you do to make the man hate you so much?” Jackson said, eyes flicking up to examine Deeks’ hair. “Don’t tell me it’s because you refuse to shave.”
“If only.” Deeks rolled his eyes, then added, “The day I came in, Raynard already had preconceived ideas about me.” He paused for a second, like he was debating sharing the next part, even though Jackson likely had heard all about the newest detective by now. “Somebody at agency I worked with messed up and I took the fall because I wasn’t an agent.”
“Aren’t you a lawyer? You should sue,” Jackson suggested. He used the end of his sandwich to gesture at Deeks. “It would show them they can’t walk all over us just because we’re cops.”
Deeks snorted at that, briefly amusing himself at the thought.
“Eh, I haven’t practiced in years. Besides, I could never finance a case against federal lawyers. Things are already tight as it is.”
“You’re having money problems?”
He paused again at Jackson’s next question, sensing that he had hit upon something vital. When he glanced up, he saw a gleam in the other man’s eyes. Feigning reserve, Deeks shrugged.
“I made a couple loans to a friend,” he said, letting bitterness leak into his voice.
“Let me guess, he ran off with your money,” Jackson said and Deeks chuckled darkly again.
“Nope. Just an idiot who shouldn’t be the head of any business operation. Unfortunately I figured that out way too late.”
“Well, it happens to the best of us, Deeks.” Patting Deeks’ shoulder, Jackson stood to throw away his trash and wash his hands. When he sat down again, he folded his hands in the middle of the table, suddenly more businesslike, although he remained casual in tone.
“So, Marty, you ever think of starting a side job? You could earn a little extra cash.”
“I’m pretty busy right now. I don’t think my girlfriend would appreciate me spending even more time away from her,” Deeks explained. Pursing his lips, Jackson nodded and smirked a little.
“Hm, I bet your girlfriend would appreciate it. You could buy her that diamond ring she always wanted, or that trip to Hawaii,” he said, winking at Deeks. He squeezed Deeks’ shoulder in a way that managed to be vaguely threatening despite his smile. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
Before Deeks could respond, a couple of other officers wandered in. In a second later Jackson was back to his easygoing self.
“Hey Morgan, nice job out there today,” Deeks complimented the female cop.
“Thanks. I wasn’t so sure about you when I heard we were getting a new detective, but you’re pretty solid, Deeks,” she said, reaching over to knock his shoulder.
“I’m not sure that’s a compliment, but after today, I’ll take it.”
“So, what are you guys talking about?” Officer Lazlos asked. He gestured to Jackson and glanced at Deeks. “What out for this one cause he is the biggest gossip in the whole division. I swear he has dirt on everyone.”
“Nice, Laz. Making me look in front of the new guy. For the record, I wasn’t gossiping, just commiserating,” Jackson corrected. “Deeks is having a rough time with our resident leader.”
“Oh yeah, I heard about that,” Morgan said, grimacing. “Raynard’s been tough on a lot of people since he came.”
“But he seems to especially hate Deeks.”
“Personally, I think it’s because he’s jealous of my hair,” Deeks said,, lowering his voice confidentially.
“That’s a good one,” Jackson said as the others chuckled.
“That, or he’s got a stick the size of Texas up his butt.”
“I’m glad you all think so highly of your superiors,” a hard voice observed and Deeks sighed inwardly as he turned. Sam stood just in the doorway, his expression furious.
“Captain-”
“I don’t want to hear it, Lazlos,” Sam barked. “All of you, in my office now.”
“Crap,” Morgan sighed. “There goes my promotion.”
***
A/N: Deeks may be pulling from reality for the friend who needed loans but I’m not implying that he thinks Eric is an idiot.
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Helloween 2021
as Pepsi Man.
as Fuzzy Lumpkins.
as Heart Evangelista & Brandon Boyd.
as Owl Jolson.
as Post Malone.
as Nezuko & Tanjiro.
as Lady Dimitrescu.
as Makima.
as Master Muten Roshi.
as Balibali & Annie.
as Circus Charlie.
as Colin Robinson, Nandor The Relentless, Lazlo, Nadja and Baron Afanas.
Throwback Lounge:
2013: https://silentsanctummanga.blogspot.com/2013/11/hello-is-it-me-your-looking-fortehween.html
2016: https://silentsanctummanga.blogspot.com/2016/11/helloween-2016.html
2017: https://silentsanctummanga.blogspot.com/2017/11/helloween-2017.html
2018: https://silentsanctummanga.blogspot.com/2018/11/helloween-2018.html
2019: https://silentsanctummanga.blogspot.com/2019/11/helloween-2019.html
2020: https://silentsanctummanga.blogspot.com/2020/11/helloween-2020.html
#Helloween#Happy Halloween#SSM#Silent Sanctum Manga#Komiks#Indie Komiks#SSM Sierra#Mona Queen Of The Babes#Bunny Pon#Tang-Ama#Tang Ama#Lolo Deadhead#Enjuriki#What We Do In The Shadows#Scooby Doo#Dragon Ball Z#Shaider#Booksale#Pepsiman#Chainsaw Man#Owl Jolson
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UGHHHHH fine, I’ll fix it.
(Spoiler, no matter where I put the damn mod, the text kept doing that, so I fixed it by deleting it.)
Lazlo: Check out the beautiful view of the radio towers.
Gabby: Very nice, please let me go.
Etsuo: Would it be rude to ask about the alien thing? It’d probably be rude.
Vidcund: I just wanted to stargaze!
Etsuo brought over Sammy Riley and he had a nice time playing football with Tesla.
And Lazlo decided she wanted to be a werewolf. So I used her aspiration points on a potion, because what else am I gonna use them on?
Lazlo: This probably hasn’t been approved by the FDA, but. I am a scientist.
You’re a lounge singer.
Lazlo: I was a scientist and it still counts.
Lazlo: Spicy!
Aliens: Special delivery!
Everyone: DO IT QUIETLY.
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@laz-lo whispered: "I like these," he said, holding a lightbulb between his forefinger and thumb, eyes following the coil inside before they landed back on her. With a wide, excited smile: ❝ They look like souls in bottles! ❞ [ in which Lazlo abuses the ''it's only a bit'' excuse in an effort to try and educate Bella about where he comes from / what he is without outright saying he's a demon ]
{ ♪ } -- She’d been lounging quietly, doing some research on their next locale for filming. Ever since she’d kissed him, it seemed things had been... More relaxed? The redhead couldn’t quite understand. She still felt a flutter in her chest when they locked eyes, and his teasing only embarrassed her more now... But it was nice.
Looking up as he spoke, she tilted her head to one side. He had her interest for sure. Slowly, she used her arms to push herself off of her stomach, slowly curling into a sitting position. Her hands found her lap and she hummed, red eyes focused on him with a spark of curiosity.
“You know what souls look like?”
The first question was her silliest one. Tilting her head in the other direction, she pursed her lips and slid her glasses from her nose.
“I guess I can see it. I mean, it’s a little ball of light. I don’t know exactly what a soul looks like, but that sounds pretty accurate to the few descriptions I’ve had.”
#♥ With a taste of your lips I'm on a ride (Lazlo x Bella)#► Baby you're not dancing on your own (modern)#laz lo
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Thebe-Corcoran family, Roaring Heights - #9
Queen finally got a chance to practice painting again after a long time of sculpting for living, and then went back to sculpting again in her favorite medium: ice.
Meanwhile, Lazlo was still busy with the art heist case, and it made him go back and forth to the Police Station to analyze evidence and fingerprints found in his investigation. He’s also trying hard to make time for the kids in between this big case. He also got a drink promotion opportunity at the local fusion lounge, The Palm Tree Bar, and met her sister-in-law there Goneril and her husband Edward.
#The Sims 3#The Sims#TS3#Sims 3#Roaring Heights#Thebe-Corcoran family#Lazlo Corcoran#Queen Thebe#Katherine Corcoran#Martin Corcoran#TS3 gameplay#Sims 3 gameplay#TS3 stories#Sims 3 stories#simblr#sims blog#bunnybananasims
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Wanted to make a proper introductory post finally!
Hello I’m LazloLemur though I prefer being called just Lazlo! I’m a PNW based genderqueer illustrator! My pronouns are He/It.
You can find me on other sites like Bluesky. Warning for 18+ content on there(filtered and hidden but it is still there!)
( a work in progress website. Don’t mind the misalignment Im working on it!) as well as just asking for my discord honestly I don’t mind!
What do I post? Typically a lot of my dungeons and dragons characters! There’s a wide array of transgender ocs as well, usually one in the same.
Do I have commissions open: due to busy situations in real life not currently however I’m actively working towards making it an option. I’m trying to have it set up by July at the latest for anyone interested in my art!
What’s an example of your artwork/characters?
As you can see it’s mostly oc work! It’s try not to post fandom stuff as much anymore as it actively stresses me out. However I’m still proud of that king Minos drawing so here it stays!
But lazlo I want to see more of these funny images! Then check my art tag eloquently put as “My Art”
Also: Lazlos lounging is just my thoughts tag for when I’m feeling talky! Feel free to mute if art is all you’re here for
Some older posts aren’t tagged with this but I’m working on fixing my archive for those who pass by!
What do I use? I use an xp pen tablet and clip studio paint on my computer!
Any other questions can be asked in my mailbox, I don’t bite!
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Brindleton Bay 9:30pm
Circe: well the bar is closed.
Jace: Now what?
Jace 2: There IS a place with a pool, it’s a few blocks away.
Penelope: Well let’s go then, I need to be home by 10:30
Jace: Same here, as a mother I got to be home with kids and husband
Penelope: It’s harder then I thought.
Jace 2: I’m not even a parent yet but I still like to be home with my girlfriend early so she doesn’t get worried.
At the Lounge...
Penelope: hey circe could we talk?
Circe: sure! What is it?
Penelope: well.. I need some advice.. and since your a doctor and therapist, I urgently need it.
Circe: Sure, everything okay?
Penelope: not really. You see when the twins were born 10 years ago, my life completely changed, I was going through some change and it’s just hard, the twins taking care of them were okay but Michael wasn’t really there as much and then we have his friends living in the same cramped apartment and I had told him we should move but he refused even with my parents help as the twins got older we argued a lot and-
Circe: okay.. I think I know what your going through.. and I’m going to have you see this therapist I had been seeing for years after Loki and I broke up, you must be going through bipolar or something that is going on, anything else?
Penelope: Yeah.. When I was a senior in high school I was both dating Michael and Mike for a while and made a decision to stay with Michael instead of Mike cause he was a vampire and that would ruin our relationship with him being indoors.
Circe: hmm. Yeah with you still going through post partum even after having the twins, you are going through guilt for something you did even though it was a reasonable decision, I moved in with your mother after loki kicked me out after helping them escape nervous and it was heartbroken. Then I went to Dr Vu. Which is Crystal Vu, Lazlos wife, aka your aunt and she is the best.
Penelope: Well yeah that’s probably it.. plus mom said I must be going through another mental health problem cause I felt like I had been under control of Michael for years and going through guilt. Thanks Circe. I’ll visit Crystal probably next week. I appreciate the advice. First things first I need to tell Michael we need to break up.
Circe: there you go, you just need a break from him. I’m sure your mom has room.
Penelope: she does actually, it’s just her, dad and Noel. Julia and Starlight moved out.
Circe: Well I’m glad to be helping you as well, plus me and Vidcund with what we are, I feel happier and we even have a daughter and are planning another child soon!
Penelope: THATS cool! Anyways I’ll let you know on what will happen.
Circe: Alright see you!
#simblr#ts4#the sims 4#sims 4#brindleton bay#maxis premade#circe beaker#my sims#Jace curious#Jace Anderson#penelope curious
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Volume 134
0:00:00 — "She" by Viktor Lazlo (1985)
0:01:38 — "Do the Wrong Thing" by The Lounge Lizards (1981)
0:04:14 — DJ
0:06:43 — "Stay" by Grace Pool (1988)
0:10:50 — "Here's the People" by The Hostages (1981)
0:14:13 — "Reverends Revenge" by The Housemartins (1986)
0:15:35 — "Hip Hip" by Hurrah! (1983)
0:18:30 — "Just the Same" by The June Brides (1986)
0:22:09 — DJ
0:26:13 — "흔들려" by 나미 (1987)
0:29:30 — "Midnight Pretenders" by 亜蘭知子 (1983)
0:35:10 — "東京 Lover" by 山口美央子 (1980)
0:39:01 — "I Cry (Night After Night)" by The Egyptian Lover (1984)
0:43:53 — DJ
0:48:48 — "Silly Girl" by Scribble (1983)
0:52:25 — "Purgatoryo" by Minox (1986)
0:58:31 — "Catch the Fall" by The Dolphin Brothers (1987)
1:03:42 — "Java" by Icehouse (1984)
1:08:14 — "Mystery of the Fence" by Camberwell Now (1986)
1:11:17 — DJ
1:16:11 — "Farewell" by G-Schmitt (1985)
1:20:59 — "Atoms" by Party Day (1985)
1:27:20 — "Rage and Joy" by Definitive Gaze (1987)
1:32:35 — "Obsessive Devotion" by MX-80 Sound (1981)
1:36:55 — DJ
1:40:46 — "Not This President" (All for Uncle Sam Remix) by The Willesdon Dodgers (1986)
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Read Chapter One of The Expeditioners and the Lost City of Maps
Chapter One
“We’ll be arriving in Gryg City soon,” a BNDL agent called through the half-open door of the baggage compartment. “Mr. Mountmorris says you can come up to the front if you want to see our arrival.”
I made my way through the piles of suitcases and trunks, and along the narrow passageway that led to the main passenger areas of the big government airship.
The lounge in the central gondola was filled with people—black uniformed BNDL, or Bureau of Newly Discovered Lands—agents, government officials, and other trainee Explorers like myself from the Academy for the Exploratory Sciences. We were all on our way to Grygia, and we crowded around the floor-to-ceiling windows of the gondola to watch the jagged peaks of the Carpathian Mountains rise up below us.
The airship was moving fast and for a terrible moment I thought we were going to hit the snow-capped mountains in front of us. But just when it looked like all hope was lost, we soared up and over them and then we were looking down at the wide white and dark green bowl of the Grygian Valley, the huge Grygian fir trees poking out of the heavy snow cover. It was early January, deep winter in Eastern Europe.
Grygia had been the first of the New Lands to be discovered, and its discovery had kicked off the New Modern Age of Exploration. Unlike us, Harrison Arnoz had made his way up and over these mountains in the early spring. He’d found a greener, more alive valley, filled with unknown species of ancient, towering trees, and the Grygian Tree Dwellers living in their intricately-constructed treehouses, complex networks of bridges connecting them to other trees and Tree Dweller communities.
But I knew that I was seeing what he had seen—from a different vantage point—and it was thrilling.
As we descended, the streets and buildings of Gryg City came into focus. The slopes of the mountains directly surrounding the city were covered with Grygian fir trees, but not far outside, huge swaths of the mountainside had been completely cleared. I could see big machines moving around in the logging camps. And at the other end of the valley, I could see the huge holes that had been dug into the hillside for the Gryluminum mines. The Gryluminum pits and strips of treeless ground looked like wounds and scars on the surface of the mountains.
“Hey! Baggage boy, you’d better get back to your work. We’re almost there.”
I looked up into the jeering face of my Academy classmate Lazlo Nackley, standing by the windows with his friend Jack Foster and another classmate, Kemal Asker.
“Come on, Lazlo, leave him alone,” Kemal said, giving me an apologetic shrug. I liked Kemal and I knew he hated the way Lazlo had been treating me.
“What? It’s true. Mr. Mountmorris is going to need his bags. And you’re his baggage boy.” Lazlo laughed.
My brother Zander and our friend Sukey Neville came running into the gondola, Zander’s trained parrot Amerigo Vespucci on his shoulder. Sukey was wearing her uniform as a member of the trainee flying corps, an olive green flight suit, tall brown leather boots, and a brown jacket with a bright red “ADR Flying Squad Trainee” patch on it. Her copper-colored curls were pinned up on top of her head, but a few had escaped around her face. Sukey was a Neo, or Neotechnologist, but without her bright clothes made from synthetic materials, she looked just like all the other trainee pilots.
Except for the tiny green lights embedded in her ear. They blinked at me a few times before resuming a steady glow.
Zander was wearing his black ADR Officers Training Corps uniform, just like Jack and Lazlo. “Hey, Kit. They let us watch from the cockpit,” Sukey said. “It’s amazing. I thought we were going to hit the mountains, but we didn’t. Oh, look! There’s the aerodrome.”
We were descending now, very slowly. Below, I could see the wide landing platform of an aerodrome. Smaller airships bobbed on their platforms. Suddenly, there was a loud rushing sound and a glider raced along the ground below us and rose up into the sky with a roar.
“It���s a flying machine,” someone shouted. “One of the new gasoline engine ones!”
We all watched as it flew up dangerously close to the gondola’s window and then disappeared up into the sky.
“Whoosshhhhh,” Pucci chortled, mimicking the sound of the flying machine.
“It must be a test flight from the ADR base outside Gryg City,” Sukey said. The Agency for the Defense of the Realm was building military bases all up and down the border with the Indorustan Empire, and now that we were at war with the Indorustans they were moving soldiers and pilots to all of them.
I turned around and met Sukey’s eyes. She was on her way to finish her training at the base. It would be her in the flying machine in a few weeks or months.
“Where’s M.K.?” I asked them. My little sister had spent most of the voyage down in the control room. I missed her. Sukey shrugged. Zander said he hadn’t seen her.
“See you later,” I told them. “The baggage needs me.”
I headed back to the baggage compartment. I had to repack Mr. Mountmorris’s bags before we landed and then carry them off the airship myself. He didn’t allow anyone else to touch them, which would have been flattering except that I hated him and I found it a little humiliating to have to organize his underwear.
Another black-suited, scowling BNDL agent was stationed outside the door to the baggage compartment and he eyed me up and down as I approached and said, “Mr. Mountmorris wants to see you. He’s in his berth.”
“But I thought I was supposed to get his bags together. We’re about to dock.”
“That was the order. You’d better hurry.”
Mr. Mountmorris was in the fanciest of the passenger berths. I had spent the voyage sleeping in a cramped box-like berth next to the baggage compartment, on the bottom bunk, beneath an engineer who snored and talked in his sleep about someone named Carla.
When I entered, Mr. Mountmorris’s assistant, Jec Banton, nodded at me. Mr. Mountmorris was sitting at a table pulled up to the window so he could see the view. The table was laid with a teapot, cups, and a plate of cupcakes and pastries decorated with bright green frosting.
“Hello, Mr. West,” he said, without turning around. “We are almost there. Exciting, isn’t it? Your first trip to Gryg City.”
His thin hand hovered over the cupcakes. Finally he chose one, plucking it off the plate as though it were a flower in a garden. I watched him lick the frosting from the top before putting it down.
“It would be if I knew what I was doing here.” I paused. “Sir.”
He turned quickly and fixed his eyes on me. He must have had lots of different pairs of colored lenses to go in his eyes. When I’d first met him, they’d been green. Today they were a deep shade of violet.
“You want to know what you’re doing here, do you?”
“It would be really nice,” I told him. “I’ve been in top secret clandestine services training for the past six months. I’ve learned how to survive in the desert, to trail someone for ten hours without being caught. I’ve learned how to make a weapon out of a dinner fork and to make basic conversation in thirteen languages. I know how to find a meal in the rainforest and I can find a perfect hiding spot within twenty seconds of walking into almost any room. And now, I am on my way to Grygia as your ‘baggage assistant,’ which seems to involve a lot of organizing of your socks. Yes, I would like to know what I‘m doing here.” I’d been holding in my anger for a long time and it poured out of me now. It was hot in the berth and sweat trickled down my right temple.
Mr. Mountmorris smiled and waved a hand toward the window, and Gryg City beyond. “You are here to carry out a top secret mission in accordance with your training,” he told me.
“Oh, right,” I said sarcastically. “Yes, the top secret handling of the baggage. Will my mission involve socks or underwear today, Mr. Mountmorris?”
Jec Banton raised his eyebrows in disapproval, but Mr. Mountmorris just smiled and chose another cupcake.
“Mr. West, do you know how much your training over the last six months has cost the Bureau of Newly Discovered Lands? No? Well, let me tell you. More than one thousand Allied Dollars per day. As you say, you have had courses in world languages, in self-defense, in code-breaking and cartography. You know how to find water in a barren desert and you know how to disappear in any city in the world.”
He waited a moment, then asked me, “Do you think that we would spend that much money on you if we meant to have you manage baggage for the entire trip?”
I gulped. “No, I guess not.”
“Do you think that maybe, just maybe, we need to be careful about how we insert you into Simeria? Because there are many people who are interested in what our intentions are there and the moment you step off this airship you will surely be followed by clandestine agents of the Indorustan Empire?”
“I suppose that yes, that would make sense.” I kept my eyes on the green cupcake in his hand.
“And do you think that perhaps this mission is all part of your cover? You do remember the lessons on creating a cover, an acceptable public identity that allows you to achieve your clandestine aim, do you not?”
“Oh, this is all my . . . ? Oh,” I gulped. “Sorry.”
“Apology accepted. Now, Mr. West, I was just about to tell you that when we have arrived in Gryg City and I have had the afternoon to settle in at the Royal Grygian Hotel, I would like you to come and see me in my suite and I will brief you on your mission.”
“O–o–okay,” I stammered.
“And remember what I said about you being followed. For the moment, you must make no effort to go undetected. In fact, it would be good if you were seen walking around Gryg City. You are a trainee Explorer, coming along on my diplomatic mission as my baggage handler. You may act as though you are exactly that.”
At that moment, the airship bumped gently against the landing platform. I heard a loud whoosh as the burners slowed. Through the windows, I could see workers scurrying around on the platform, securing the airship with ropes.
“Oh look,” Mr. Mountmorris exclaimed cheerfully, his face now as bright and joyful as a kid’s on Christmas morning. “We’re here!”
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October 2nd 2019
Podcasts:
Hollywood Handbook Pro Version -- 92 Amusement Park
Hey Riddle Riddle -- 63 A Pun In The Pool
The Teachers Lounge -- 9x03 Salimony with Jackie Redbone
Best Friends with Nicole Byer and Sasheer Zamata -- 17 Nicole Is Going To Live Forever
Punch Up The Jam -- 87 Ghostbusters (video)
Wonderful! -- 102 Lazlo’s Pyramid of Desire
Off Book: The Improvised Musical -- 116 Conan O’Brien (A Surprise Cameo), Paul F Tompkins, and Nicole Parker in “Look Who’s Talking To You: The Musical”
Advice from a Dipshit -- 63 Hold Off The Midnight Munchies with Andy Richter
The Dream -- Bonus 4: How To Fire Your Boss
Music:
Thrice -- Motion Isn’t Meaning
Live:
Stephen Chbosky
#hollywood handbook pro version#hey riddle riddle#the teachers lounge#best friends#best friends with nicole byer and sasheer zamata#punch up the jam#wonderful!#off book#off book: the improvised musical#off book pod#advice from a dipshit#the dream#thrice#stephen chbosky#imaginary friend
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Two and A Half Men story starter
Warning for being as lemon fresh as anything else TAAHM has ever done
Alan finally lands a steady job with guaranteed income and ever increasing perks...
The place didn’t look like a serial killer’s murder basement. Of course Alan Harper would be the type to answer an ad in the back of a free adult newspaper looking for a licensed chiropractor. A male chiropractor. Porn was the last bastion of being able to divide people by gender, race, and tit size, he told himself.
Actually the place looked as unlike a serial killer’s basement or a porno factory as one might expect. It was a nondescript mid rise glass covered building with a several storied guarded parking structure and a small lot denoted for visitors. The main entrance looked to have a lobby but Alan’s appointment was to be through one of the smaller ones with only a suite number.
Beyond the door was a small, bright, clean waiting area with a linoleum floor and plastic chairs. A noticeable sign told him cameras were everywhere. He hoped he looked professional enough in his doctor’s coat over a plaid shirt and khakis.
They called him Dr Harper. It felt like no one would call Alan a doctor even if he was dressed as a time lord. They spoke briefly about his arrest record but it was nothing to them. Somehow allegations of getting a bit hands on came out, that was of no concern, and if Alan had read the interviewer correctly Happy Endings might have been expected.
As he was lead further in to the building Alan was beginning to wonder if Happy Endings were the whole point of his being here but to his relief he had been taken through a back entrance to a space that had been outfitted as a small gym.
It was all a matter of regulations and health codes and other bullshit. The employees had gym access, they wanted a masseuse on call. This was the male only gym, there was an identical one for female employees, so they needed a male. It was a salaried job with regular hours.
A little room with a great view had been partitioned off to hold a massage table and equipment. Anything else Alan would need for his work would be provided.
They know who I am, right? They know I’m a reprehensible human being, right? Alan thought to himself as he was shown out. Someone else is going to get this job. There must be other applicants.
Five black polo shirts with the company logo and a white coat all with Dr Harper on them sat on the massage table. Dr Harper DC was on a sign outside the room. A sign up sheet on a clip board was hanging on the wall and there were already employee numbers on it. They didn’t use names here, just numbers, and key cards, and cameras that were everywhere.
The gym was well in use and Alan thought about using it himself. Hell, there were even personal trainers at disposal. Finally it was time to treat his first client. There were no Happy Endings or misunderstandings or anyone grabbing his hands off their shoulders and pulling him down on top of them. There was just business.
Lunch was provided, free. Good, healthy, nutritional lunch or breakfast or dinner, what ever you wanted from the menu. Proper meals were at set times but there was always something to be had at any hour for what ever went on in this place went on 24 hours a day. Dr Harper’s services however were just in the day time.
The dining area opened to a rooftop patio, to one side was the view of the mountains, the other the sea. Here the company was mixed between men and women. A whole building full of incredible looking women who hopefully had no idea who or how Alan Harper was.
The man from payroll had filled out the paperwork, but for a few things Alan needed to add or sign, before he had pulled out his paperwork and made himself comfortable in the chair on the other side of the desk.
“Oh, you are the real chiropractor.” His name was Lazlo something unpronounceable with a dozen continents including a Z ending with CPA and on top of his head was an impressive nest of golden curls. His skin was a similar shade of gold.
“The real chiropractor?” Alan laughed a bit.
“You know how it is around here,” Lazlo dismissed.
“No, I don’t, I’m new.”
Lazlo’s eyebrows went up in a slight surprise, then one remained up, “You have beautiful hands.”
“Oh, thank you.”
“Are you having lunch in the dining hall? There’s someone who must see your hands.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Alan spent the rest of his morning cheerfully imagining the woman he thought Lazlo was going to hook him up with. Why yes, my hands are beautiful. You want them to touch you where? I suppose.
Lazlo was waiting for Alan and they sat at one of the round booths that was nestled in a corner of the room. It was quiet, a good place for conversations, and glowed from one of those sunlight tubes in the ceiling.
“When was the last time you had a manicure?” Lazlo asked as he examined Alan’s hands more than anyone ever had. Alan just shrugged. “Then you’ll get one,” Lazlo continued. “If you don’t mind it being filmed.”
“Filmed? A manicure?” Alan asked.
“For a video. You can have a pedicure too.”
All Alan could manage was nervous laughter. Lazlo had released his hands and made no attempts to stop Alan when he scooted to the entrance of the booth to leave. Just before he could stand up Alan was greeted with the sight of the most powerful yet elegant man he had ever seen.
“Dr Harper,” the man, who was only known as The Swede, said as he shook Alan’s hand. “Lazlo was right, as usual, you do have beautiful hands.”
Politeness dictated Alan had to return to the booth but he arranged it so he was near the exit and could make his escape if wanted. After he ate. The food here was too good.
With a nervous grin and Should I Stay or Should I Go playing in his head Alan entered the room. He had showered and dressed in the black t-shirt, bike shorts, and flip flops he had been given, his employee ID around his neck. The man who had been the previous victim was dressed the same and doing the wet nails walk girls did. It was after hours but a free mani-pedi was a free mani-pedi.
Except it wasn’t free. They were paying Alan for his time. And Alan Harper was not the man to turn down a free mani-pedi even if they set him on fire.
A comfortable lounge chair was in the middle of the room and four nail stations each manned by an Asian woman surrounded it. A professional camera sat above each station pointing strait down. The Swede was sitting in a chair surrounded by monitors, wires, and other movie directing stuff. A screen showing the view of the four cameras sat where everyone in the room could see it.
“Make yourself comfortable, Dr Harper,” The Swede said. “There won’t be any sound. If you have any preferences please inform the technicians.”
“Please be gentle,” Alan giggled nervously. He was greeted with four separate expressions. Don’t make a happy ending joke, he told himself.
It was surprisingly strait forward. The women did their work and the cameras held tight on their shots, it could have been anyone hands and feet. Soon enough it was done and Alan was instructed how to care for his nails.
“So, will I be invited to the premiere?” Alan joked as he was helped back in to his flip flops.
“This is mostly for stock and b-roll,” The Swede said. “Caucasian male, dainty hands and fingers, medium to large feet.”
“Oh.” Alan felt a bit crestfallen. “Okay.”
As he went out the room doing his own wet nails walk Alan passed another man who was going in. His hands looked rough and huge.
“How much did you have to pay them to touch you?” Berta said, hand on her hip in disbelief.
“After work perk,” Alan said happily.
Charlie looked at him suspiciously. “You actually work?”
“Yes,” Alan said. “I told you, it’s a private gym and they wanted a licensed chiropractor.”
“A licensed chiropractor rumored to give Happy Endings?”
“Lies and you know it.”
Charlie sat on the couch, beer in hand, porno on the TV. Alan sat at the table considering activities to do with Jake. The bonus from his man-pedi had come in and in the back of his head it felt a bit like dirty money.
“Aha! A food truck festival with unlimited passes, there’s something he’ll like!” Alan said aloud.
“Boobs.” Charlie grunted as he pointed at the TV. Instinctively Alan looked. There were boobs alright, big squishy boobs. And Lazlo.
That’s… Alan stopped himself from saying anything. For a moment. “Wow, those are big, aren’t they?”
“I’ve seen bigger,” Charlie grunted.
Lazlo was playing a nebbish accountant helping several large busted prostitutes file their taxes. Aside from the bare breasts and activities involving bare breasts it was pretty tame for a porno.
Alan joined Charlie on the couch and casually picked up the DVD cover.
“They want me to write some music for them,” Charlie said. “Sinsidential and leaf motif stuff.”
“How does one write music for breasts?”
“Easy,” Charlie said as he began to hum something.
the ending is up to you...
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