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cursewoodrecap · 3 years

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Session 22: Five-Dimensional Man-Go

This is a session I’ve been looking forward to for quite some time. I get to introduce three of my favorite characters in the entire campaign.

In the real world it’s been a while, but this was the session we officially welcomed a new chaos goblin player to the table. And damn, am I glad we did.

Valeria goes to Hoeska’s armor smiths for some upgrades, and accidentally kicks off a goth fashion montage. Her new armor has gorgeous black detailing with purple rose accents, accessorized with a brand-new Shusva-skin bag with matching claw clasp. Gral picks up a fancy Shusva-leather cloak and belt. Shoshana, realizing that a vampire’s castle is basically a Hot Topic, gets some fishnet arm warmers to accompany her fang necklace. We also get some healing potions and hope they aren’t made from lost souls or anything.

Valeria resummons Aethis, who pops back into existence in a burst of glitter that’s entirely incongruous with the local grim aesthetic. Apparently celestial gators are only mildly inconvenienced by fatalities.

As we hitch up the horses to get back on the road, we find out Ser Boris is also preparing to head out. “Woods full of many nasty creatures. Must keep hunting! Maybe I find way down to Barroch, I have heard monsters are attacking workers there.”

Gral perks up at the name of his people’s capitol. “I’m sure the orcs will treat you well. What kind of monsters are they dealing with?”

“Wolves, bears, maybe werewolf? I will find out when I get there! Cursebreakers do not have much of working relationship with orcs, so info is scattered. That is why I must investigate!”

While he heads south into orc territory, we’re gonna go north toward Sturmhearst to look into all the Key nonsense Professor Bjork told us is goin’ down. It’ll be a long trip; it’s on the coast, and we’re well into the heartland of the wood. As we get closer, we’re gonna have to look for new maps, too – the patchwork of safe zones and Curse disasters changes rapidly, and the roads that were passable a month ago might be deathtraps today.

We trek for several blessedly uneventful days. One night, in a region where a sizable number of halflings have settled, we have the fortune of seeing an inn on the horizon as night starts to fall. A sign proclaims the Fusilier’s Rest, a combination winery and inn located on a lush vineyard. Valeria’s kind of suspicious of anything too plant-based right now, but the rest of us totally want a winery tour.

We hitch up our wagon next to a post labeled Valet Parking. Aethis parks themself in the stables. Looking at the place, with its rather low doorframe and quaintly painted décor, we suspect Demish wine snootery instead of weird plant cults.

We duck through the door and take in the scene. It’s on the upscale end of totally normal, with locals sitting around eating and a huge pot of Demish onion soup bubbling on the hearth. The old halfling bartender is wearing pieces of a worn but well-cared-for blue-and-gold uniform. Two polished old pistols hang within reach on the wall, along with a pristine old Fusille musket in a place of honor behind the bar. Shiny medals in a handmade case are proudly displayed atop the bar.

As is D&D protocol, we look around for any notably wacky characters. We find them in the corner: an old man with unkempt white hair and multi-lensed, colorful glasses, engrossed in a game of Man-go against a young human doctor. We know he’s a doctor, because he’s got a stubby-beaked Sturmhearst mask pushed up to expose a tired but friendly face. His coat might once have been a lab coat, but it’s since been patched and sutured together so many times that it’s probably done a full ship-of-Theseus. His right arm is in a makeshift sling, and he’s nursing a small glass of Kevan vodka; probably the closest thing they have to rotgut moonshine in a wine-snob place like this.

We’re like, neat. Let’s eat soup.

Valeria orders a local vineyard wine and chats with the bartender about it. “The man who runs it is a madman; he thinks he can grow good wine grapes in Valdia. But he pays my sister well, she does her best.”

“Oh, don’t listen to René, his sister does marvelous work! No halfling will admit that wine grown outside Demionde will be more than spoiled grape juice,” teases one of the local barflies.

Gral asks Valeria who’s winning the Man-go game. The old man is rambling pleasantly, barely paying attention, and he is absolutely crushing the young doctor. The doctor looks like he’s totally aware he’s being taken to the cleaners, but he’s gonna let the old guy have his fun. As the game draws to a close, the younger man smiles ruefully and hands over a few coins. Meanwhile, the old fella, his eyes magnified to mismatched sizes by his funky glasses, spots our most conspicuous party member.

“Kyr! How’s the wine?” he calls, beckoning her over.

“Quite good actually!” Valeria chirps. “Was that the Kiloni maneuver?”

“Yes, or a variant I picked up somewhere! The Killam maneuver…kilometer…kilowatt? Something of the sort.”

Valeria very much wants to play him, and the old guy’s defeated opponent is happy to trade her his spot. The young man’s propped up leg hits the ground with a suspiciously loud clunk as he vacates his chair for her.

The old man peers up at her, bright-eyed even behind multiple layers of glass. “So what brings a Knight of the Rose here?”

“We’re headed to Sturmhearst, actually!”

“I see! I’ve heard the roads between here and there are pretty tricky to travel, you know.”

“No kidding. Do you have an updated map?”

He snaps his fingers. “No, but I just came from there! I’ve got an old map and I can easily update it for you kids. René is on night watch, I’ll leave it with him so you don’t have to stay up waiting for me to finish it. I know a route that’ll get you there lickety-split and safe as trousers! Now let me guess, you played at the clubs in Aurentium? You have the look about you.”

“Not the clubs, precisely…”

“Ah! Street rules, then!”

Valeria, who played Man-go against literally everyone who would have her, shrugs. “Maybe?”

“René, we’ll need some cups and a dumb hat!” the old man calls.

The young doctor wanders over to the bar and gets a refill, settling down next to Shoshana. “Hey, wanna bet on their game? The old guy’s pretty sharp.”

Shoshana laughs. “Oh, my friend is definitely gonna lose. I’ll put a silver on her, though, out of loyalty.”

It’s an odd game to spectate. Valeria falls behind early on; an insight check shows he’s not cheating, he’s just VERY good. Oh, and also Valeria’s assuming an entirely different set of house rules than this guy, and it’s tripping her up. Wait, are we doing street style, or dock style? Anyway, Valeria’s wearing the dumb hat now. At one point they both spit on the board.

“Y’know, I’ve never seen anyone from Sturmhearst take the mask off,” Shoshana says to her new drinking buddy, watching the game with confusion.

“On the clock, it’d be a safety hazard! But off the clock, eh, it’s fine. Some people get more elitist than me about it, I’m a hometown Valdian through and through.”

(You’re from Joisey, I’m from Joisey! What exit?)

“I haven’t actually been to the university since the Curse started, but I’m heading back to research some stuff I found out up in the Grammelsmarsh swamps. Some real disconcerting stuff regarding undead, and the like. The locals refer to it as the Wailing Wight.”

Shoshana gives him a once-over, rolling a decent Perception. He’s scruffy, though that could mostly be from hard travel, and definitely looks like he’s had a rough time of it. His arm’s in a sling and the little exposed skin Shoshana can see has more than its share of nicks and scars. His gait when he walked over was slightly uneven, one leg making a suspiciously heavy thunk against the wooden floor. Over his shoulder, he’s carrying a long, heavy case sealed with tar for waterproofing.

Hold up. She points to the case. “Do you have an alive guy in there?”

“…Uh.”

“You hesitated, and that’s not great.”

“Uh…no. No, I do not have an alive guy in here,” he says awkwardly.

“Okay, because the last time there was a weird bag, there was a whole-ass dude in there, and it turned into a whole thing.”

“N-no, no no no, there’s no person in the case,” he protests, not quite meeting Shoshana’s judgy cat eyes. He definitely doesn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea, even though the case has started gently twitching.

Meanwhile, old Man-Go man has proved himself quite fluent in Draco-Aquilian, though with an unmistakable mammalian accent. Gral butts into the lively conversation when it winds back to Valdian. “It seems like you’re rather well traveled. What is your profession?”

“Oh, y’know, I go here and there. I’ve been around. There’s so much to see out there!”

Valeria smiles. “I can’t fault you there. Anything in particular you’re looking for?

“I go wherever the winds take me, mostly,” he says, as if Cursewood travel isn’t the most dangerous hobby since they invented pyromancer cookoffs.

Valeria, impressively, only loses the game by a little. The old man jovially shakes her hand and promises to go get started on that map to Sturmhearst for us, springing to his feet with surprising deftness for his age and bustling up toward his room.

Gral and Shoshana, meanwhile, are busy makin’ friends with the doctor guy. “What swamp were you fighting undead in?”

“The Grammelsmarsh? It’s downriver of Mornheim.”

“Ohhh! We heard some, uh, adventurers did a purifying ritual on the river. It might help your situation?”

“That’s great, but…I dunno. Once you mix in swamp gas, things get a lot more interesting.”

“The explosions kind of interesting?”

“…Sometimes.”

The players have noticed that our doctor friend here is, like…not an NPC, there’s another guy at the table (the same player as Isadora! :D), so we start sizing each other up as travel companions.

“You seem like a pretty decent guy,” Gral says, immediately insight checking.

“I mean, you guys seem on the up-and-up too?”

Shoshana winks at him. “Well, I’m not that up-and-up but these two are very diplomatic and important.”

“If you’re also headed up to Sturmhearst, it might make sense for us to travel together? I’m not very quiet,” he admits, knocking on his knee with a clang, “but if you-“

“Hello!” Valeria, hearing clanking, has clanked over loudly to join. “Kyr Valeria Argent, at your service!”

“Uh, hi! I’m Vigdor. I’m a doctor! I mean, you knew that, with the, uh-“ He points to his bird mask. “If you need any balms or salves – I mean, I’m mostly a surgeon, but I know some herbology.”

Is that so! We chat about Dr. Ulmus and Dr. Kjeller. Everyone loves Dr Kjeller!

“I’ve heard of Dr. Kjeller! I haven’t met the guy, but he’s the leading expert on troll physiology. Getting him to come lecture hasn’t worked out so far.”

We ask René the innkeeper about any local threats. Apparently this town’s gotten lucky; the biggest threats recently have just been bandits and one overaggressive badger.

“Oh yeah, one of my cats fought one of those, it went badly,” Shoshana remembers. “For the badger, I mean. I have weird cats.”

(The inn also has cat. His name is Jean Clawed.)

Eventually we all head upstairs. As the night bears on, the girls fall asleep, presumably after painting each other’s toe claws and gossiping. Gral’s still awake, practicing his lute in the rare luxury of a single room, when he pauses. Something doesn’t sound right.

Putting his lute aside, he listens cautiously at the window and feels a deep dread grow in his stomach. The faint scent of ozone drifts in the air. The crickets and night birds have gone dead silent, and in the unsettling quiet he can hear the terrible growling, piping sound he’s heard twice before: once in a house in a hole, and once as Bullbreaker’s expedition faced its destruction.

With great urgency and no volume control, Gral sends a Message to a sleeping Shoshana: “RED ALERT, KEY SHIT’S HERE.” Shoshana wakes up and kicks Valeria.

Gral then sends a Message to our new friend Vigdor, more calmly. “If you have weapons, get them now. Something is happening, it’s going to be dangerous.”

The early warning lets Vigdor and Valeria armor up, Shoshana helping Valeria buckle on the heavy pieces in a hurry. Meanwhile, Gral sprints downstairs, casting Mirror Image as he goes.

René the innkeeper is cleaning his fusille with practiced precision, humming an old marching song. Gral can hear something moving in the kitchen behind the old halfling, so he pops another stealthy Message cantrip. “This is the orc from earlier. I think something bad is in the kitchen – I’ve heard that noise before. Hold on tight to that musket, I’m going in.”

“The back door is locked, I would have heard someone come in,” the old soldier whispers back.

“These things don’t use doors,” Gral hisses.

A 17 Persuasion convinces René, who loads a bullet into his musket. “Where are those friends of yours?”

A heavy clank from upstairs answers that question, as Vigdor and Valeria thud toward the stairs. Gral scopes out the room and sees, on the bar, a big leather map case. The map from the Man-Go guy! Then he peers into the kitchen and, yup, that’s a fleshhound, all right.

Everyone else upstairs bursts into the hall just as a second fleshhound emerges into existence next to them. Shoshana, without hesitation, hits it with a gout of flame. Its strange ethereal flesh solidifies for a moment, but then it shakes itself and charges forward, its displacement energy restored.

Meanwhile, the one downstairs doesn’t aim for Gral or René, trying to run past them. Gral plays a discordant note on his lute, using his Minor Key at the opposite frequency to its vibration and preventing it from displacing, before he strikes. A spectral, scarred orc swings a warhammer down on the creature, Thrice-Burned’s ghost getting some payback as Gral’s blade strikes true.

René takes a shot with his musket and crit-fails, understandably freaked out by the writhing mass of teleporting tentacles, the wild shot careening directly into Gral. Luckily, it only pops a Mirror Image, but everyone upstairs hears a frustrated yell of “NO. FRIEND! ME FRIEND!”

Vigdor dashes past Valeria to the stairs, his previously-motionless arm reaching out of its sling to slap her on the armor with a resounding clash of metal. A silver Jotunn rune glows through the cloth of his sleeve, and she feels Protection from Good and Evil snap into place over her. She takes the cue and stabs the hound, rose vines bursting from her trident and stabbing their long thorns into its oddly flickering flesh.

The pupils on the Eyegis snap to the space behind the beast. Our normal eyes see nothing, but the Key-aligned shield’s eyes see a magical gate, faintly connected to the hound.

As a member of the Order of the Rose, Valeria’s trained to deal with fiendish incursions. This isn’t a portal to the Hells, but she thinks it might get closed similarly. As she charges forward to deal with it, everything seems to move twice as fast as it should: the Key’s spatial distortion has made certain areas the opposite of difficult terrain, where you can move double your speed. Nyoom!

Shoshana zaps it with lightning and heads downstairs to help Gral, who’s being slapped by tentacles. The zapped one flees toward the portal, but Valeria Sentinels and stabs it to death. The downstairs hound gets its tentacles into the real Gral.

Vigdor moves to Gral’s aid, ripping away the last of his sling and clamping a large circular blade to his forearm. With the pull of a ripcord, it loudly whirs into motion. As the Buzzing Butcher slams into the displacer hound with a gory squelch, he asks about sneak attack, like a rogue!

A very, very loud rogue.

Gral breaks away from the hound’s tentacles and looks around. Through the windows, more fleshhounds have appeared outside. The space outside is warped – leaving this inn is going to be very difficult while all this nonsense is going on. The lights of the vineyard seem miles away.

However, Gral realizes, the hound responded to the sound of his lute. And when he used his Minor Key he caught a glimpse of the portal it came through. He begins to play again, using the Minor Key to try to take control of it. The GM allows him to burn a 3rd level spell slot for a colossal roll of 33. He moves the portal inside a wall, to temporarily block anything coming through.

René takes a shot at the remaining hound and misses.

Valeria, upstairs, draws her chained sword and spends a 1st level slot to try to close the portal, the same way paladins close Infernal gateways. The chains of Rack extend from the sword and stitch the portal shut.

(Gral and Valeria each gain inspiration for using Portal Trixx!)

A Thing Occurs at initiative 0, and we hear strange piping coming from the stables. We’re kind of occupied, so we trust Aethis to bite anything that bothers the horses.

Shoshana sprints down the stairs and to the bar. Aw, there’s another flesh hound coming in from the kitchen. Her Chill Touch misses, and the new monster slaps Gral.

Vigdor nyooms through a Zoom, which makes some Really Weird doppler effects happen with his clanky leg and his buzzy arm. He slides across the bar like an action hero and slams his saw down, missing the hound and showering the room in a hail of splinters.

Valeria is still upstairs, and it is LOUD downstairs. She’s gonna dash to get the heck down there and rejoin the festivities.

Gral Phantasmal Forces the new fleshhound, and in its mind, horrible liquid tendrils emerge from the soup pot and constrict around it. The soup rises to the defense of the Fusilier’s Rest!

René gets his wits about him and takes a pistol shot at the nearer fleshhound, tagging it with a bullet and keeping it in place. “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE. OUR POLICY IS NO PETS! I will not make an exception for you, you do NOT seem particularly polite!”

The fleshhound grabs the map case off the bar and starts to run for it. René hits it with the butt of his rifle. The second hound can’t attack Vigdor since it’s too busy convincing itself soup isn’t dangerous, so Vigdor’s free to draw his pistol and unload a Sneak Attack bullet into the fleeing hound’s back.

René reloads his musket. It’s been a long time since he’s done it under fire, but the Royal Fusilier Corps of Demionde does not half-ass their training.

The portal the hound’s heading for bisects a wall now, so it might be hard for the hound to get through. Before it can worry about that, though, it comes face to face with Valeria, who’s ready to rumble. She kills it, dropping the map to the ground, and skitters through the Zoomy Zone to try to trident the second hound. It displaces out of the way.

Gral seizes control of another portal, and this time decides to use it to see what’s going on. He tries to hop out to the stables, where that weird noise is coming from. He enters a weird nether space full of the flickering bodies of fleshhounds, writhing and blinking, which the DM calls the Threshold. Gral accepts psychic damage to see what’s going on, and the patterns become clearer as the Key takes hold temporarily in his brain. These portals all connect to each other and the Threshold at the same time. Whatever’s out in the stables, making that eerie piping noise, is tied to the portals – it can’t fully exist in our realm. So if you close all the portals, it’ll force that thing to leave; if you drive it away, the portals will close. Either way, the Key’s influence on this place will fade.

Oh, and that thing out in the stables? It’s the Lurke r again.

Gral’s old enemy wrests control of the portal back from Gral, who stumbles back out into the inn, reeling from the sudden whammy of Key taint.

Shosha shoots lightning at the nearest hound, which retaliates by leaping through her, disrupting her matter with its own. It’s a highly unpleasant experience. A new hound jumps out of the portal next to Valeria. As Vigdor, Shoshana, and René all attack, Gral shuts another portal with his lute’s magic. “Guys, there’s something horrible in the stables!” he shouts. “If we bust enough portals it’ll go away!”

The Lurker continues to make mysterious dice rolls, but apparently it’s rolling poorly, so we don’t quite find out what it’s up to. It peers through one of the last few portals, only visible to Gral and the Eyegis. It’s hard to get a good look at, fifth-dimensional as it is, but it’s weirdly humanoid, actually? It’s surrounded by floating lanterns and holding some sort of pipe or flute.

(The DM notes that Jean Clawed is awake and doesn’t see why any of this is his business. He’s capable of using the portals; he’s not Key tainted, that’s just how cats are.)

We exchange blows with the remaining hounds, Chromatic Orbs flying and chainsaws buzzing. René bayonets a hound to death, for the honor of all NPCs.

Gral powerslides on his knees across the Zoomy Zone, playing a complicated riff, woobling himself right through the fireplace into the kitchen. He spends another level 3 spell slot to get the portal to dance itself shut. “And that was Through the Fire and Flames!”

René reloads his gun. Shoshana blasts the hound with fire, so Vigdor’s action goes off and he chainsaws it to death, the body and spine getting caught in the spinning chain. FATALITY.

The searing light of Shoshana’s fire casts sharp shadows on the walls of the inn, which begin to writhe and re-form, swirling together into a lithe, snarling feline shape that springs toward the Lurker. It pounces with an odd, broken yowl that’s incredibly familiar – although Valeria and Gral have only ever heard it once, from underneath an overturned laundry basket.

Vigdor, who’s never met a flesh-hound OR a cursecat before, makes an arcana check to figure out what in the seven hells is going on. It seems some sort of entity is thinning the barriers between realities? Its very essence seems to be intermingled with portal; it cannot fully leave the portal or exist in this realm. Like a malevolent, sentient pair of curtains.

He’s like okay, curtains sound like something I can chainsaw. It’s curtains for you, see? (Fun fact: if he rolls 21 or higher on attack roll with chainsaw, he gets sneak attack regardless of other circumstances. Because it’s a goddamn CHAINSAW.)

The Lurker turns its attention directly on us, or at least to the enormous hissing cat hellbent on ruining its day. Gral, still strumming furiously, realizes the Lurker’s only got a couple of portals left. He’s closed a portal already; he’s gonna try to close all of them for good. The DM imposes disadvantage and a brutal pile of psychic damage, but Gral is unphased, hitting a power chord that shakes the entire inn.

The Lurker screeches and reaches for him, the space around Gral beginning to warp, but it’s too late, the portal slamming shut against it. The Zoomy Zones vanish; the portals close, the strange atmosphere fades. The road looks to be the size it was before instead of an endless stretch of packed earth; the vineyard is once again an easy ten-minute walk away.

His big solo complete, Gral sways and collapses unconscious. Valeria runs over and Lays On Hands so he doesn’t die, while Vigdor starts casting Mending on the destroyed bar furniture. Shoshana, meanwhile, just stares dumbstruck at the place where a huge spectral cat is dissipating into shadowy smoke.

“…Schmendrick?”

René is holding himself together, but he’s an old man and it’s been a while since he fought this much. He took a bit of damage; Valeria pat pats him some HP. “Thank you, Kyr. I…I need to check on my other guests. The old man with the Man-Go game, we must find out if he lives.”

Valeria accompanies him upstairs. Rack’s glowing rose vines are still visible, stitching the portal shut; it’s healing more quickly than Valeria’s used to seeing. The door to the old man’s room swings open under Valeria’s cautious knock. The bed is unmade but empty, and the old man’s luggage is gone. The only things left are a generous tip on the counter and his odd multicolored glasses.

As Vigdor steps outside to clean viscera off his chainsaw, Gral scopes out the stables. There’s evidence of disturbed earth around the grounds, but nothing conclusive. Aethis seems to be unbothered.

We reconvene without much to show for our investigation. But we have one last clue: Why were the hounds so interested in the old man’s map? We spread it out on one of the bar tables and crowd around. It’s a map of Valdia, but the path it shows us to take to Sturmhearst makes No Sense. It’s not even contiguous! It tells us to start here and wander north, and then the line cuts off next to some scribbled equations, the route picking up again elsewhere, where he’s drawn a symbol we don’t recognize – and so on, in strange and nonsensical disconnected paths.

Shoshana, on a hunch, puts on the multicolored glasses the old man left behind. Like 3D glasses, they reveal the hidden image. Through the kaleidoscopic lenses, she can see remnants of the Key’s influence all around the inn; the fading Zoomy Zones and closing portals light up in ultraviolet. The map, meanwhile, has gained an entirely new dimension, like a layer of holographs. NOW the shortcuts make sense – they route through other dimensions along the z-axis, with additional symbols and labels giving helpful hints.

To be honest, it does look like a much faster route. And one of the notes says it leads to the “Drowned City” – hey, isn’t that where Bullbreaker ended up? But we’re all rightfully wary of hopping right back into another flesh-hound portal disaster.

We now have the Extradimensional Map and the Stranger’s Glasses.

Oh! The map has a note for us: “Happy Journeys to a fellow master of the game. Your friend, T.T.”

We immediately rifle through our notes and realize he may have been Professor Trevor Twombly, Headmaster of Sturmhearst. Vigdor, did you know that guy?!

Vigdor didn’t recognize him. Maybe the guy looked like Twombly, if you squint? There were a lot of old men at Sturmhearst, and they wear masks most of the time? Also he had distracting glasses? So, like…maybe?

As we bicker, Vigdor snags the glasses off the table and heads to his room, opening up his case and taking a look. The lenses don’t reveal anything new about the object inside.

Unfortunately, the poor rogue didn’t bother to stealth. “Whatcha doin’ in here?” says Valeria, who followed shortly behind.

“Um, just looking at my leg, seeing if anything is weird-“

Valeria immediately checks Vigdor’s lower limbs for wounds. “I can help! An extra pair of hands can always-”

“No, no! I think I’m okay! Really!” he protests. He glances into the case again, clearly torn, and sighs. “Let me explain.”

He lifts a whole human leg out of the case, kicking and twitching.

“This is my leg, and I’m taking it to Sturmhearst. I’m not sure if it’s wholly mine anymore.”

Through his torn pants, Valeria can see a clunky clockwork leg to match his buzz-saw arm.

One player immediately yells “FULL METAL ALCHEMIST.” Another player says it again, in a slightly different voice.

Dr. Vigdor Gavril has joined the party!

#the cursewood #session recap #the key #valeria argent #gral omokk'duu #shoshana bat chaya #vigdor gavril #schmendrick #trevor twombly

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feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years

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chapter forty: among the living

“We have got to take you to see Iron Maiden at some point—they're probably our biggest influence. Iron Maiden plus Journey and Rush.”

“Well, keep your eye on the tour dates, though,” she advised him. “School just barely started, so if there's any dates for spring break or the summer time, or better yet—because my birthday is coming up—for that day, too.”

“I don't think anyone we like'll be playin' for your day of birthage,” he confessed, “but rest assured, I'll be keeping my eye open for you. You and Belinda and Marla and Aurora and Zelda, too. We like our girls.”

It had been almost an hour since Joey and Sam had come to the cafe and at that point, the sun had begun to hang low outside. The snows were upon them once again and Sam wondered if she and Belinda could make it back home to the Bronx in time. If nothing, Joey could let the two of them bunk with him for the night. They both knew the way to his place now, and he had room there.

“I assume Black Sabbath, too,” she added as she took a sip of coffee.

“Hell yeah! If we ever start getting big, like Metallica big, I hope we can weave our way into the world of Sabbath.” Joey took another large drink of that warm beany coffee and then he ran his fingers through his pitch black curls. Tiny smooth ringlets caressed the inside of his fingers.

“What exactly quantifies 'Metallica big'?” she asked him as she held the mug by the base with both hands.

“They've kind of become the Scorpions at this point,” he explained. “They're big in a sense that anyone inside of our circle and our scene knows exactly who they are. They're not like Madonna big in that everyone across the world knows who they are. If you go to like, San Francisco or Boston, and you mention Metallica to a regular ol' schlub, they couldn't tell you who they are. But if you saw a guy with long hair and mentioned them to him, he'd probably tell you who they are. Speaking of Boston, we gotta take you to see them, too. So much to do.”

“So much to do and see and so little time,” she remarked.

“Exactly!”

They fell back into silence for a moment so Joey could sip upon his coffee a bit more.

“So—Aurora told me of a newer band called Guns 'N Roses out of L.A.,” she recalled.

“Mmm?”

“Yeah. She—” It was really hard to say it was her who said it and not Eric, and she cleared her throat. “—she said they're hard rock and kind of a refreshment from all the big hair.”

“Cool—I oughta check 'em out the next time we're at a record store. Although—” He peered over his shoulder to the doorway and his expression turned serious. “—I think there might be one here in town, to be honest.”

His brown eyes fixated on something on the other side of the room.

“What's up?” She turned to look and she recognized that long smooth dark hair as it fell down to the middle of his back. Smooth and dark and with a few waves embedded within: his coffee colored skin contrasted with the white of the snow outside. Right next to him was that full head of jet black hair wrapped up in a parka. For all Sam knew, Joey hadn't seen the gray stripe make a disappearance, but she also couldn't say that he didn't know it wasn't him.

She shifted her weight in her seat at the very sight of the serious look on his face. He dropped his gaze onto her and he sighed through his nose before he took another sip of coffee. She turned her head again and she gazed on at Alex as he adjusted the lapels of his big heavy parka; Chuck said something to him, but she couldn't hear a sound from him.

“Oh, yeah—forgot they were here with us,” Joey grumbled.

“Who? Legacy?” She remembered the vow to keep it all a secret, especially since she, Aurora, Belinda, and Zelda were the only ones who knew about the name change.

“Yeah—you know, I don't bar grudges, so I have no problem with Chuck per se. But that boy, Louie—he looks like he's up to trouble, especially from his experience with Zelda.”

“What makes you think that?” Sam had to resist breathing out a sigh of relief at that.

“The biggest stoics are often hiding something. I say that because I'm a stoic myself.”

“So you're implying that you're up to trouble?” She couldn't resist a little laugh at that.

“Maybe. We'll hang out more and maybe I'll show you.” He flashed her a wink and she raised her eyebrows at him. She returned to the two young men on the other side of the room; Alex peeled off his parka before he sank back into the corner there. Gray sliver nowhere to be seen, much to her relief.

“Or it could be because he's a drummer,” she pointed out. “Drummers know how to bang.”

“Drummers know how to bang, exactly!” He showed her another little lopsided grin. She took another glimpse over at Alex and his staring up at Chuck as he said something to him. He was rather lovely and he stood out from a crowd, and thus it made very little sense to her. But then again, it was dark when he and Joey got into that fight, and so she knew he couldn't recognize Alex by those deep steely eyes like she could.

Chuck then turned away and he headed across the warm wooden floor. He looked in her direction and he showed her a friendly little smile and a little wave.

Please don't come over here, Chuck, she said to herself as she returned the favor. Please don't come over here, please don't come over here, please don't come over here...

And lucky for her, he kept onward to the counter in front of them. But then she returned her gaze to Alex as he set his elbows up on the top of the seat and showed off his chest. She thought about the joke that Belinda had said to her, but then she returned to Joey, who finished off his cup of coffee right there.

“I still owe you a drawing of you,” she recalled.

“Why?” he asked her with a puzzled look on his face. “You made that painting of me—and by the way, I still have it in my car, too.”

“I want to do it better, though. I want to get you alone for a long time and without a shred of an interruption between us. I want to do it on paper, too. Joey, I've been teasing it to you. I want to give it to you.”

He ran his fingers through those ringlets again: she wished to feel his hair much like how she felt out Frank's hair in Charlie's closet. She turned her direction to the other side of the room again: those deep eyes watched her every move, or maybe he was looking past her to the wall behind Joey. She thought about the mysterious man in her dreams, how he seemed to watch her every move as well. The streak buried under the helmet of black and yet she could feel its ghost. Like the very dream himself.

A fever dream.

He nodded her an ever so slight nod and she showed him a friendly smile. It was the least she could do for him right then.

“Yeah, I kinda wanna,” Joey piped up, such that it took her off guard. “Let's take a walk, too. I think the snow's stopped for a little bit.”

“Sounds good,” she told him.

Without another word, they slid out from there and the noise of the cafe returned to them. Alex turned his attention to something on the other side of the room so Sam was able to lead Joey out of there. The gray had covered the sky yet again and the snow was upon them once again, and yet she wasn't ready to head on back to the hole in the wall.

“Did not like the way Louie was looking at you back there,” Joey confessed as they walked side by side to the corner.

“Why?”

“I dunno, it just made me uncomfortable. The way he stared right through you—like that undressing stare.”

“What do you mean 'undressing stare'?” she asked him, baffled; a part of her wanted to laugh at the notion that Louie was undressing her, especially since that wasn't even him. And then she realized just how clueless Joey was, in that he was under the influence of white wine when Louie told her that he and Zelda were on good terms with each other.

“He was totally undressing you with his eyes,” he pointed out. “It looked like he was undressing me a bit, too. I think his break up from Zelda's getting to him a bit. Although to be fair, I would've done the same if it were me. I can't imagine pain like that.”

“You think a guy as good looking as him would be that desperate for attention?”

“You think Louie's good looking?”

“Yeah, I think he is.” She had to resist even more laughter right there.

“Huh. Well, I used to know this guy when I was playing hockey—he was pretty handsome, even by my own standards.”

“Oh, live and let live, Joey! I won't give you a hard time if you think another guy's good looking.”

“Okay, he was pretty handsome, even for us funky looking hockey players. Never found a girl by the time I joined Anthrax and yet I could see it in him. He was getting desperate because all my other teammates were starting to get the eye from the girls in the neighborhood. Yeah, I can actually see it. Desperation comes in all shapes and sizes, you know. And the only other thing I know about it is it can hurt you. So I'd tread with caution around him.”

He then turned his head to her.

“I mean, it only makes sense,” he continued, “you're protective of me—I should return the favor.”

Sam knew there was no point to it because it wasn't even Louie but she still gave him a smile. It was comforting to know that she and Joey could expound on their friendship from that point onward. Within mere seconds, they had reached the street corner and paused for a moment so as to look either way about the street.

“Hey, there's that clearing you and I went to before when Stormtroopers toured up here,” he noted with a nod of his head.

“Where?”

“Right over there.”

Sam then looked off to the left at that clearing by the lake, now as black as the hair on Joey and Alex's heads.

“It's quite a crossing, though,” she remarked.

“It's alright—there's no one comin'.” And yet Joey still looked both ways before he set a hand on her shoulder and guided her across the dark, wet pavement. A smooth blanket of freshly fallen white snow had fallen onto the grass, and if her memory rang true, Sam knew it was a bit too deep for their boots. They hovered there by the curb, right next to that smooth snow bank: the trees next to them drooped a bit with large clumps of snow that made her think of gingerbread houses. The black waters of the lake made her wonder if it was frozen over a bit.

They stood there next to each other in complete silence, and she wondered if it would snow at any given second. The gray over their heads seemed to beckon it for them.

“So Kirk's getting married,” he finally said, much to her surprise.

“What!” she exclaimed. “When?”

“Some time in March.” Joey frowned at that. “Wait a minute. No one told you?”

“No!”

“Shit. Well, if it's any comfort to you at all, I only just heard of it myself. Charlie mentioned it and Scott was like 'oh yeah!' and that was how I found out about it. I don't even know if I'm invited at all, to be honest. I had no idea—I thought one of the girls told you.”

“They didn't, no. Marla's got a packed schedule for this quarter so I can't really blame her for telling me if she knows about it.”

They froze in place.

“Maybe we can ask them about it?” she suggested to him.

“Maybe. Maybe. I dunno, to be honest.” He shrugged his slender shoulders at that and Sam huddled closer to his little body. He was wrapped up tight in a black overcoat but she could tell he was cold.

“I forget who it was—may've been Zelda who likened you to venom.”

“My last name is Belladonna after all,” he pointed out.

“You've injected me with your venom, Joey—I'm obsessed with drawing you now!”

“Now you know why Anthrax wanted me. I guess I really truly am unforgettable.” He bowed his head and shrugged again.

“You know what, Joey?”

“What's that?”

“I have my art supplies with me. As does Bel.”

He froze right in his tracks.

“What're you sayin'?” he teased her.

“What're you doing tonight?” she asked him.

“Tonight? Eh, I'm probably just getting some dinner and then crash out for the night. Why?”

“Let's go back there to the studio and grab Belinda. I wanna do something for you.”

“Under one condition, though,” he quipped.

“What's that?”

“You promise to share that painting of me with everyone.”

“Of course, of course. Besides, Bel owes me forty bucks. I think we all have bets to pay off.”

“Hell yeah, we do!”

“Well—” she nibbled on her bottom lip and she swore she felt a snowflake on her forehead. “—if I keep that promise for a bit longer, you have to tell me about your new album.”

“Promise that Belinda doesn't tell anyone about it?”

“She's already sworn to secrecy about—some other things,” she chose her words carefully once again. “So I'm sure she can for you.”

She extended her pinky finger to him and he linked it up with her.

“Alright then,” he said in a soft voice. “Now—let's get outta this snow. I feel it upon us.”

“I do, too...”

Joey set his hand on her shoulder once again as they made their way back to the hole in the wall, where Belinda had stumbled outside with Zelda.

“The producer wanted us out,” Zelda explained once they came within earshot. “It was getting too cold in there, too.”

“Oh, I see,” Sam nodded her head. “I assume Aurora's in there, too?”

“Yeah, she is,” Belinda replied as she tucked her hands into her jacket pockets. “She's with the label and they just need one other person in there so she offered to take it up.”

“Hey, Bel,” Sam piped up again, “—how would you feel if I told you Joey and I wanna take you back to his place for a bite to eat and a bit of fun?”

“I'd love to! What're we eatin' and doing afterwards?”

“A three way,” Zelda joked, and the three of them burst out laughing at that.

“I'll tell you when we get there,” Sam promised her as she set a hand on Belinda's shoulder.

“We better hustle, though,” Joey advised them with a rub of his nose. “The snow's coming.”

“Okay—you gonna be alright, Zelda?” Belinda asked her.

“Oh, yeah. I'm tough, Bel.”

“Tough little Rhode Island girl,” Sam added with a wink.

“I've gotta get sump'n for Rose, anyway,” Zelda assured them.

Joey, Sam, and Belinda climbed into the latter's car and they headed back to Camillus. As they skirted around the edge of Syracuse, the lake effect snow began to fall over them. Belinda tapped on the brakes a little bit as the freeway widened out to four pitch dark lanes.

“I'm used to the bad snows up here,” he confessed at one point, “but I don't blame ya for going kinda slow, Belinda. I would, too, 'cause I got a couple'a girls with me.”

Sam nestled down at the front seat at the sound of that. She relished in the blast of warm air from the heater vents: she knew she could go into her twenty second year on earth with a good feeling inside of her and with Joey right next to her. If nothing, they could be friends forever much like herself and Frank. And yet, every so often, he took a glimpse over to her with that little lopsided smile on his face.

They slept across from each other in the cabin and she had seen him naked. Such a strange place to be but she assured herself that it was strictly friendship. But she was about to see him in the buff yet again, or at least that was her hope.

They soon rolled up to that usual parking spot around the corner from his apartment. Snowflakes rained down over them and dusted the crowns of their heads: the highest curls upon Joey's head somewhat resembled to the buried streak over Alex's forehead. Once he unlocked the front door and stepped inside, he shook his head about so the snow fell onto the carpet before him. He peeled off his coat and lay it over the arm of his couch; he ran his hand over the crown of his head again to get rid of the rest of the snow.

“Don't you wanna hang up your coat first?” Sam asked him as she took off her coat.

“And lug it up them stairs?” he joked to her as Belinda shut the door behind her.

“It's just going up the stairs and then coming back down. Take ya a minute.”

“Wow,” Belinda breathed out once they were inside there.

“What?” Joey raised his eyebrows at her.

She crouched down for a better look at the record collection there on that side of the room.

“Oh, yeah, his little library of records,” Sam declared.

“Wow!” Belinda breathed out as she smoothed her blonde hair back over her shoulder. “Some of these I haven't really seen before! Like that Cheap Trick album.”

“Got that for a nickel at a little place over in Schenectady,” he told her as he kept going into the kitchen. Sam then turned back to Belinda.

“Is the car still unlocked?” she asked her in a low voice.

“Yeah.” Belinda raised her gaze to her. “Why? What's up?”

Sam crouched down next to her and lingered close to her face so it looked as though they were talking about the records.

“I made a promise to Joey to draw him,” she whispered to her.

“Oh. Why are we whispering?”

“Because I didn't tell him when I'd do it for him. I want it to be a surprise.”

“Oh, I see. Are we talking watching him to draw him or are we talking having him in the buff?”

“In the buff?”

“Oh, shit—”

“Hey, what would you girls like?” Joey called to them from the kitchen.

“For dinner?” Sam called back to him.

“Yeah. We can just order some take out because I don't really have much.”

“Oh, yeah, that's right—you guys had been on the road.”

“Exactly, and the label isn't paying us diddly squat, either.”

“Well, we don't really have much on us, either,” Belinda pointed out as she stood to her feet and peeled off her coat. “I have yet to get my grant dispersement.”

“Yeah, me, too—and my counselor Bill isn't telling me anything,” Sam confessed.

“He won't tell me shit, either.”

Joey stood at the counter with a hand on a glass of water.

“Sounds like we're all struggling,” he muttered.

“We've got each other, though,” Sam recalled what Lars had said to her. “By the way—I didn't tell Belinda this yet but—whatever we do for dinner, even if it's nothing, because I have to admit that I can't stop thinking about this, Joey.”

“What's that?”

Sam took a glimpse over at Belinda, who then raised her eyebrows back at her.

“Strip for us, Joey,” Sam told him, and Belinda herself giggled at that. Joey gaped at her, but she snapped her fingers twice at him.

“C'mon, c'mon,” she coaxed him, and a soft pink bloomed in his otherwise dark face.

“She obviously wants to do it, Joey,” Belinda said with one hand up to her mouth. He swallowed and then he reached down to the waist of his jeans.

“Come on, big boy—let's do it.”

“Whoa, where'd this come from?” he chuckled at her as he adjusted his belt a bit.

“Hey, you said it yourself—I'm a girl with a man's name next to a girl who slithers about. Get on it.”

“Well, I gotta actually strip for you,” he pointed out.

“Do it, Joey!” Sam exclaimed with a clap of her hands.

“Yeah, do it, Joey!” Belinda joined in.

He sighed through his nose and drank down the rest of his water. He set the glass down on the counter and he held onto the bottom hem of his sweatshirt. He peeled it off and showed off his slender dark skinned body. Sam thought back to when they were at the lake and it was just her and him. But this time, she had Belinda next to her.

“Want me to get our stuff?” she asked Sam.

“If you don't mind at all,” she replied, and she couldn't resist the grin on her face. Belinda then clapped her hands and she ducked back outside to the snow and the cold gray. Sam brought her attention back to Joey, who had lay his shirt on the other arm of the couch.

“Didn't have to get a bit of booze in you at all this time,” she remarked.

“Don't really need it,” he told her, again with that lopsided grin on his face. “I know I can trust you now, Sam I am.”

He unfastened his belt and his jeans and he let them fall to the floor around his feet.

“Speaking of trust, if I get naked again for you two girls, do you promise not to tell anyone about the new album?”

“Joey, I'm an assistant to Aurora—you know I'm not gonna do such a thing,” Sam scoffed.

“I'm more concerned about her, though.”

“Joey, I assure you Bel's secretive. She can keep it all under wraps.”

He nibbled on his bottom lip, and he stepped out from his jeans and towards the chair in the middle of the room. He held onto his underwear in anticipation of Belinda returning with the paper and the ink pens. Sam held onto them for her so she could take off her coat and lay it on top of Joey's coat there on the arm of the couch. It seemed so easy to her to just run upstairs and hang them up, but it was better to leave them there because the real important thing was right in front of them.

Sam and Belinda then took their seats with their drawing pads and their pencils in hand.

“Go ahead, Joey,” the former coaxed him, and he sighed through his nose. She could tell he was hungry from the faint pale tone to his otherwise dark skin. But he slid down his underwear and Belinda raised her eyebrows at him.

“Okay. We're calling it Among the Living and we're dedicating it to Cliff. That's as far as I know. Scott, Frankie, and Charlie all wrote up the songs—I just haveta sing 'em.”

Sam gasped at that. She set down her drawing pad on the cushion and she lunged for him with her arms wide open. She held his nude body close to her. She couldn't resist the tears from falling right there. Her body shuddered and Joey gingerly ran his hands up her back.

“Do you like it?” he asked her in a muffled voice; he raised his head from her chest and spat out a piece of lint from her sweatshirt.

“Do I like it? It just made my life!”

“Easy now—you just might make another life right there,” Belinda warned them, but Sam still held onto Joey. She didn't want to let him go. She wanted to feel every inch of him. Feel every inch and draw every inch for the world to see. She wanted everyone to know that she loved Joey and she loved him far more than she had ever dreamed of.

But she let go of him and she brushed away a tear, and he sat back down on the chair. His toned thighs spread out a little bit and his slim waist was still slim and delicate.

“I like that name, too,” she told him in a broken voice, “what is it again, Among the Living?”

“Among the Living, yeah.”

“It’s like we’re living in a world that Cliff didn’t get to see,” Belinda noted.

“A brand new chapter of sorts,” Joey added. “Kinda roundabout, but yeah.”

“I hope you can hold up for this round, Joseph,” Sam admitted, “I’m starting to feel really hungry now...”

#fanfic #fanfiction #chapter 40 #fever in fever out #fever in fever out fanfic #deadly nightshade #book two #anthrax fanfic #anthrax #joey belladonna #oc tag #artistry #also on ao3 #also on wattpad #writing #text

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leecravesdeath · 4 years

Text

tattoos and tea in the early morning (boboxx)

on ao3 if preferred: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27062932/chapters/66075682

hi! this is the first thing i have written for any fandom since maybe 2016/17. i am 100% aware that this isn’t great but i had fun with it so i guess that’s good enough for me :) hope you enjoy!

summary: Scarlett is out for the night with their friends when they meet Juice in a bar. When a drunk Priyanka proposes they all get tattoos, Scarlett invites her to come along too.

just to clear it up: Juice is Julia and Lila is Lemon

Scarlett wasn’t sure they believed in love. Sure, they knew it existed, but they had never really experienced it for themself. And right now, if they were being honest, they thought they would probably never feel it. Love wasn’t particularly prevalent in Scarlett’s life; the countless amount of one night stands they’d had was enough proof of that. Of course, it could be argued that, yes, Scarlett had experienced love but having a girl naked in your bed just isn't the same as spending time with friends and family. That was unflawed logic that none of them could really argue with.

Everything they thought they knew about love went out of the window in favour of the girl with the funky nickname. Blonde hair that fell just past her shoulders paired with crystal blue eyes and a small smile as she stirred the straw in her drink at the opposite end of the bar. Something about her was just enthralling and Scarlett felt the urge to introduce themself. Julia was new and different, and it was good. The good sort of different that Scarlett knew that they would definitely miss if it left as quick as it came.

“Hey,” Scarlett said as they took a seat next to her.

“No cheesy pick-up line?” she asked as they shook their head, “ that’s a shame. I’m a sucker for a bit of stupid.”

Scarlett thought for a moment before responding, “ how’s this one: your lips look lonely. Would they like to meet mine?”

“oh my gosh! That was awful,” she laughed, “how many times have you used that one?”

“Never, you’re the first,” they winked as she laughed again. Scarlett would never grow tired of hearing that laugh, even if they only had tonight to listen to it.

Scarlett doesn’t know how it happened, but not even thirty minutes after meeting, they had the smaller girl against the bathroom wall of the sweaty club. The two were so focused on one another that they barely registered the door opening and a ditzy yellow-haired girl walking in talking faster than Julia had ever heard anybody speak, “ Pri said we’re going to get tattoos, you in?”

Scarlett looked at the yellow girl in confusion for a moment, their mind still wrapped up in the embarrassed blonde who stood across from them. “Uh yeah sure, you want to come?” they asked, hoping she would agree. Joy and relief washed over them as Julia said yes. In retrospect, Julia was infinitely glad that she had decided to say yes that night, even if she was left with a weird tattoo.

After a dramatic number of tears (all from Lila of course), the 5 of them had a reminder of the night permanently etched on their skin. Some of them played it safe, getting something small and cute, but the same couldn’t be said for Kiara and Priyanka who both now had a Quebecois curse word and the current day’s date respectively. Lila got a small lemon in honour of her nickname; Julia got a flamingo drinking a juice box and Scarlett got a tiny clown face due to her love of the circus. Was getting a tattoo in the middle of the night really the best idea? No, of course not.

As everyone began to disperse and go home, Scarlett worked up the courage to ask her to go home with them. Julia agreed, her voice sounding as sweet as honey and Scarlett knew they would never get sick of hearing it.

“Before we go in, how do you feel about dogs?” Scarlet asked as they reached to unlock their apartment.

“I love dogs. I have one at home with my roommate!”she exclaimed in excitement. The prospect that Scarlett had a dog was amazing as she was definitely getting more of a cat-lady vibe from them.

“Perfect!” Scarlett all but shouted as they let them both into the apartment, their dog sleeping soundly in the corner.

They wandered into the kitchen area, telling Julia to make herself at home as they went to boil some water in the kettle to make them some tea. Scarlett wasn’t much of a tea drinker; preferring something with a caffeine boost like coffee but it was far too late for that so chamomile would have to suffice.

When they re-entered the room, they found Julia browsing over the shelves against the wall that were filled with books, movies and photo frames. Scarlett was usually pretty private about her life, preferring to spend nights away from home rather than bring people back to their apartment. When people did visit, they hid the sentimental items, not wanting their friends to see the vulnerability that they housed. But something about Julia was like a breath of fresh air and Scarlett felt like they were open and exposed, the air mingling inside of them. But for once, they didn’t hate the feeling.

“That’s my mom and sister at my graduation,” Scarlett told her unprompted as they saw which picture she was looking at.

“You look really different without the green in your hair. I almost didn’t recognise you,” Julia joked with a soft look in her eye, “you’re really pretty,” she concluded with a large smile, moving on to look at another picture.

“Thanks? You are too,” They complemented, causing a small blush to work its way across her face.

“Is that Lemon and Priyanka?” she asked through a giggle as she looked at the picture of the three girls dressed in halloween costumes, Lila looking significantly smaller than the other two as the picture captured her mid-fall.

The two of them spoke for hours, conversation varying from what they did for work, hobbies they had all the way to future plans. The chamomile tea that was made earlier in the night now sat forgotten on the coffee table as they slept uncomfortably on the sofa, a soft blanket draped over them both. Scarlett was pleasantly surprised to see Julia still in their home when they woke up only hours later. The smaller girl shifted a little bit before waking up. The sudden movements and quiet noises of discomfort were enough to alert Scarlett’s dog to come rushing over to the sofa where they resided.

“Morning,” Scarlett greeted Julia as they gave the dog the attention he so desperately wanted.

“Good morning,” she responded in an almost questioning tone through a yawn. Julia wasn’t much of a morning person, she much preferred to stay awake until the early hours of the morning and then wake around midday if she didn’t have work.

She left at around 1 pm, promising to send pictures of her dog. After countless hookups, they chose not to believe people when they say they’ll text later. So Scarlett sat in waters of uncertainty as they waited for a potential message, trying every method possible to distract themself. When the clock hit half past four, a message finally came through from Julia. Attached was around five pictures and an apology for it taking so long. It was safe to say that it was totally worth the wait, each picture being more adorable than the last. But Scarlett would be lying if they said their favourite wasn’t the one with Julia in it too. As they typed a response to Julia, a different notification appeared.

Priyanka: y’all remember that tiny girl too right?? the one who left with bobo?

Lemon: yeah i walked in on them in the bathroom together...

Priyanka: ew

#juice boxx #scarlett bobo #boboxx #sorry this isn't great #but like more people should write these two. i could make a powerpoint with valid reasons as to why #this might be the only thing i ever write bcs my brain overthinks everything :)#im british so if some things don't sound right then imma blame that AND my lack of experience ;)#a tag for writing :)

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uzumaki-rebellion · 4 years

Text

“Wet Sugar” [Part 21 of 30]

Summary: Erik has doubts about what he has done...

Mature Audience. NSFW.

youtube

"Gotta be careful, I know, I know You and me can't be nothing no more I've been lookin' for something from you I've been gettin' nothing at all You're such a fuckin' woman (woman) But deserves the fuckin' world, yeah…"

Lucky Daye—"Love You Too Much"

The saltwater in the pool soaked Erik's sunburned skin as he floated on his back. He would've preferred to swim at the cove, but going there was all her. Too much her.

That woman he tried to ignore became a specter before his eyes. He would catch glimpses of her around the compound, but she was like a rumor whispered in hushed tones. They were able to work around each other, but sometimes he caught her lingering above the gun range when he was there firing the new weapons with the other mercs. He acted like he didn't see her in the distance when she did that, or when he caught her slipping out of the kitchen when they all came to eat. He felt her eyes on him even when he couldn't directly see her.

He did the same, often hanging back after meals, sipping on dinner espresso and waiting to hear the side kitchen door open with her bounding in to help Leona clear away dishes and leftovers. Or he would stay out by the pool for a long time and catch the sound of leaves rustling as she snuck down to the cove using the secret path no one else knew about. She would sometimes cuss at Jerome while heading there and he would stifle a laugh while thinking about the first time he heard her talking to the iguana. The sound of her voice still thrilled him. It was the girlish softness of it mixed with the smart-ass personality behind it that still made him excited about her.

He dreamed about her. And Sydette.

Those night visions were often a replay of the earlier days of them alone at the compound. He'd wake up suddenly in the middle of the night clutching at his side hoping she was there. When he heard movement from Linda in the room next to his, he would pretend it was Sweet Pea sneaking out of her bed to crawl between him and Yani.

He knew from jump Yani despised Linda.

But that was to be expected because Linda tended to rub people the wrong way and of course...he had fucked the woman. Linda could be condescending to people that she felt were inferior to her. She treated a lot of the other mercs that way and they couldn't say shit because her skills were so tight and she proved it to be true time and time again. She never tried it with him. His game was tighter than hers and she respected that.

He never saw Yani act funky in front of Linda personally, but Linda often commented on how Leona was very nice to her, but Yani was just direct and spoke very little.

"She's efficient and like a damn ninja around here…but I can't get more than two words out of her when I ask her for stuff. It's like I'm bothering her own personal things. She acts like Klaue's house is her house. I had my feet on the coffee table and she walked past me with the laundry sucking her teeth."

Erik knew the reason why Yani was acting that way. It wasn't because of no feet on the furniture.

Klaue moved Linda into his house and her bedroom was next to Erik's. She was sleeping in Sweet Pea's old room. She was sleeping too close to him.

Yani wasn't the only one feeling irritated by new interactions.

He was feeling a way about her and Zachary.

Erik still lurked on her social media to see how she was doing. At first, it was to keep tabs on Sweet Pea from afar, and he could also see what Yani had to say about her classes. She was acing school like he knew she would, but it was the posts about her social life that had him uptight.

As expected, Zachary pounced on her, and Yani seemed open to the rekindling of some type of relationship because Erik saw pictures of them together at clubs and group gatherings. Yani had big smiles on her face when she posed with Zachary, and apparently, they took a trip to Jamaica together for a concert Kendall performed at. He saw pictures of them posing in front of a waterfall together in swimsuits holding hands while facing one another. Yani's eyes were closed and the grin on her face told him that they had either kissed before the picture was snapped, or they were about to kiss.

He couldn't even be all that mad on a certain level if he were honest with himself. He would've done the same thing. If he'd lost a bad bitch being stupid, he wouldn't waste time snatching her back up.

She looked happy in that picture. Zachary looked…enamored with her. Erik wondered if she was sleeping with him. Getting new dick to forget the old dick. Erik scoffed a bit while staring at them. Ain't no way Zachary could handle what Yani had. Fire pussy needed bomb ass dick. That was the only thing that kept Erik from going off seeing her with someone else that soon.

What nigga could compare to him with her?

He used to make that bitch's pussy jump when he called her on the phone. He could snap his fingers and have her pulling open her slit for him whenever he wanted it, had her cumming and crying and begging him not to stop until she couldn't hold onto him anymore. Made Yani sit anywhere he wanted—indoors or outdoors-with her legs wide open while he watched her slam a thick blue dildo in her pussy just to amuse him before he picked her up and stretched her walls out all night. He made her cum in her sleep with just the thought of him fucking her. She would lay in bed next to him having multiple orgasms that woke her ass up and made her beg him to fuck her wide awake. What could that civilian do for her?

She looked good though. Damn good. She had lost some weight from running around again, but shit was looking hella tight.

Shit.

Thinking about her in that picture made Erik want to fuck.

He climbed out of the pool and took himself a long shower. Afterward, he drove himself to a barbershop in Havensight and had his locs cut off and his beard trimmed and groomed. He needed the change. His mother had done it often when she needed a fresh start. At least two times in his life with her he had witnessed his mother shaving off her hair. Shedding old energy to welcome the new.

He felt a few eyes on him in the shop. Maybe they recognized him from being with Yani.

Before meeting up with Linda and Klaue in the main house he shot off a few emails to his grandfather and his Uncle. He also loaded more money onto Yani's credit card. She didn't use it all that much anymore, probably because she didn't want him tracking her purchases, but more than likely not wanting to stay connected to him. No matter what happened between them, he wanted her to have some sort of back-up support if she ever needed it. If not for herself, then for Sydette at least.

Strolling into the main house, both Klaue and Linda gave him a double-take when they saw his hair.

On the viewscreen in the living room, Erik posted up a picture of the C.I.A. agent that he was tracking for Klaue. The man had a mousy face and the strait-laced look of one who believed in toppling other governments in service of making America great again. A weak-looking yes man by the name of Everett K. Ross.

"U.S. Air Force. Decent pilot. Currently the Deputy Task Force Commander of the Joint Counterterrorism Center. He reports to the Secretary of State. That good ole boy, Thaddeus Ross."

"He's taking nibbles from me. I've been dropping hints at wanting to sell vibranium," Klaue said, "the U.S. wants their hands on all they can find. But he's a bit skittish right now."

"No one likes to look like they're in bed with mercs and terrorists," Linda said.

"The U.S. fucks with them all. They must be under scrutiny," Erik said.

"Any sales aren't going to be done in the U.S. The Great Satan needs to come where I say," Klaue barked.

"Nowhere in Europe," Erik said.

"Definitely not Africa," Linda added.

"What a wimpy looking oaf," Klaue surmised.

"That's what makes him effective. A milquetoast-looking face can get away with anything anywhere," Erik concluded.

"Well, the moment you find me a chunk of the good stuff I'll set up the sale," Klaue said.

The three of them sat around drinking until dinner. There was to be no meal at the house that night. Klaue took everyone out to a restaurant on the Northside of the island. The food was exceptional and Erik didn't get into any arguments with Neal or Huntsman. Surprising. There were great bars to crawl around and when Shipley let them toke on some blended weed, Erik felt pretty mellow. He actually wanted to hang out a bit.

Klaue caught a cab back to the compound but the rest of their crew stuck together. Linda was really floating, acting like the Snow White to their ragtag team of six non-Dwarfs. Shipley was trying to run game down on her, but Linda wasn't interested. She put up a front of being all business. But not with him.

He kept it friendly between them. Even when she sunbathed topless on the porch of Klaue's house, he treated her like his colleague.

It wasn't easy at times.

When his sexual urges came on strong, he was tempted to seek her out in her bed, but he didn't want the headache of Neal or Shipley. They were both jockeying for some play and there was nothing worse than working with hard-up men and the tension that jealousy brought.

Linda would give him looks sometimes and he hoped that no one else caught on.

Some really hard-sounding island music caught their attention and they stumbled upon a boisterous club that excited Linda. Shipley got into the spirit and they were all sucked into the space ordering drinks and watching the spectacle of winding hot bodies and good sounds. Linda grabbed Shipley's hand and dragged him out among the crowd. The place was a lot bigger inside than it looked outside and there was an actual stage on one side with a D.J. spinning tunes with a massive sound system. No wonder they could hear it blocks away.

Erik found a honey with loose hips and he followed her out onto the floor. Neal sprang for drinks and by the time it turned midnight, Erik had a good sweat and copped a few feels on some Grade A ass that seemed to come from an endless supply throughout the space. He found another shorty that made his temperature rise, and he was getting her number when she and a few other women swarmed the stage. The music was thumping and there were a few eager men on stage where a solitary chair sat in front of them.

Erik bought himself some Henny and walked closer to the stage with Neal and Shipley in tow.

"What's happening?"

Huntsman eased up beside them, his voice loud over the music.

"I don't know," Erik said.

"I think they are about to…ah yeah…we about to see some rump-shaking," Neal said.

A man with a chiseled chest poking out of his half-unbuttoned shirt sat on the chair as an MC talked to the crowd.

"What's the point of this?" Huntsman said.

"Watch and see," Neal said.

Erik sipped on his drink.

The music got a little buck and several women, even the one Erik was trying to mess with climbed on stage and took turns dancing with frenzied athleticism on the lap of the man who sat in the chair.

"Man…I couldn't do it!" Neal squealed.

Linda found her way over to them. Her face was flushed from dancing and drinking.

"Poor guy!" she said.

"Be right back, gonna refresh my drink."

Erik left them and headed to the bar. He could see the different women trying to out-dance one another, and by the time his new drink finally got to him, a new dude was in the chair getting his junk pummeled.

"Shit," Erik whispered.

These women were not playing. He grinned when he saw Linda reach up to the MC and he helped her on stage to take her turn at grinding on a stranger. She stood out with her light gray booty shorts and half top. Kicking off her sandals, she made the man sit on the floor of the stage as she did the splits and pounded her groin on him. Her wild cascade of curls covered part of her face. The audience went into a frenzy and Erik could hear Shipley and Neal cheering her on.

"Did y'all dare her to get up there?" Erik asked when he returned to his entourage.

"Nope. She said they needed an expert up there," Shipley said.

The woman could move, and she played to the audience while she awaited her chance to dance on the next guy in the chair.

"This gyal is on fiyah!" the MC shouted.

Linda wiggled her hips fast, throwing her cheeks in a wild circle. She dropped down and grabbed her ankles letting the audience watch her cheeks move.

"She too much, man…too much!" Shipley shouted.

"Goodness gracious," Neal said.

Erik looked around the stage to see who he was talking about, but then he saw Twyla moving near the front.

"Twyla!" Erik shouted.

"You know her?" Neal asked.

Twyla looked his way. She saw who was calling her and she smiled.

"Big nigga. Where yuh hair go?"

Twyla's hand rubbed his head.

"God damn…she thicker than a pot of grits," Neal barked looking toward the stage again.

"That girl is small—" Shipley answered.

"Not that one…her. Oh my damn. That's…shit. That's Klaue's girl," Neal said.

Erik saw Yani staring at the stage. He recognized a couple of her friends with her that saw him fuck her in a club.

"Don't be scared to say hello," Twyla said.

Her eyes regarded Erik's face.

"Yuh can't hide back here."

"I'm not hiding—"

"Lookin' like yuh back at Juvay," Twyla teased.

One of Yani's friends jumped on stage and stood next to Linda.

"How is she?"

His eyes were sheepish looking at Twyla.

"She's as good as can be expected from a bad break up. Doing well in school—"

"Sydette?"

"A busy body. And you?"

Erik shrugged.

"Still hurts, yeah?" she said.

He didn't answer.

"I see it on your face. Hers too."

Twyla glanced back at her cousin.

"She say yuh leaving the island."

"Yeah."

His eyes were focused on Yani.

"Big man…if there are things yuh still need to say to her, best tell her before yuh bounce. End it the right way with she, yeah?"

He decided to suck it up. Test the waters.

He sipped on his drink again as he walked over to her.

"Yani."

She turned to look at him and he realized it was a mistake. He should've kept his ass in the back and ignored her.

"Killmonger."

Damn.

He got goosebumps hearing his name on her lips despite the coldness. Her eyes took in his new appearance and he couldn't tell if she liked it or not. Indifference settled around her toward him.

The crowd surged and she turned back to watch her friend on stage. He stood behind her and could only concur with Neal's words. Lil Mama was thick as fuck, and the tight black pants she wore did not hide a damn thing. His body yearned for hers. He stepped closer, close enough to feel her body heat. He wanted to kiss the back of her neck and trace his tongue around her tattoos again. Erik had to fight his own hands to keep them from circling her waist and pulling her back toward him. As far as she was concerned, he wasn't even there.

"She doin' too much."

He heard one of Yani's friends talk about Linda.

"She gwine break his dick if she keep that up!" Another one cackled.

Yani giggled and covered her mouth.

Erik's eyes swept back up to the stage. Linda was living it up in the spotlight, and she was getting plenty of rousing support from a lot of men and women.

The current man in the seat had a serious expression on his face, like all that ass pounding his dick from different women wasn't affecting him in any way. Stoneface.

"Go up there, Yani."

She shook her head as her friends cat-called her name.

The D.J. changed the song to a track that had been remixed to death over the years. But it revived the crowd and the women on stage. Linda received some more cheers when she had another turn at bat, and for the first time, Stoneface reacted a little bit. The audience laughed and the MC teased the man about losing his cool.

Yani and her friends walked away and Erik felt himself actually deflate a bit. Yani straight ignored his ass. He watched the lights of the club hit the bronze of her top with them titties sitting, her platinum fade lined up tight, and that ass just being totally disrespectful in public.

He felt absolutely proud to see her not giving a fuck about him.

Gulping down the last of his Henny, he saw the MC bend down to the crowd trying to catch Yani's attention. She stopped with the rest of her homegirls to listen to him. Her hands flew up waving him off, but her friends nudged her arm. She put a hand on her waist and said something to the MC, and Twyla sauntered over pushing her up toward the steps leading upstage.

Fuck.

She went up the steps and once the full lights hit her, Erik had to stop and take inventory of what he had once. That used to be his woman, but there was something different about her that was turning him on in a way that made him feel out of control.

Linda saw Yani approach the chair and the look on her face told Erik that she was in a bit of shock recognizing the woman who cleaned her room and cooked her food.

The MC let Linda and a couple of other women do their booty shakes again, but then Yani stepped over the man, spread her legs wide and did the slowest drop down onto his lap that put the audience in a tizzy. Unlike the other women who moved with hyped up energy, Yani slowed it all the way down until her cheeks were popping in a way that had the man's legs jerking.

Erik felt his jaw get tight when Yani turned her head to look back at everyone as she let each ass cheek bounce in syncopated rhythm. She rolled her hips and the MC, along with several other people on stage started laughing hard and slapping arms. The MC started jumping up and down and pointing.

"Lawd -a-mercy! She done made this nigga buss in his pants!"

Yani lifted up and stepped away from the man with his eyes glazed over and his left hand grabbing at his protruding erection. Eyes watched Yani sashay away, and even Linda gave a painful-looking laugh as her eyes watched Yani leave.

"She dangerous. That gyal dangerous!" The MC shouted.

Yani's friends laughed with her as the entered back into the fray of bodies swaying to the music. A few men tried to get Yani's attention, but she was focused on her friends.

A song they used to listen to at the house came on and Erik took long strides to get to her.

"Come dance with me," he said touching her hand.

She pulled back from him as if he stung her.

"I don't want to dance with you."

Her friends surrounded him and their eyes were ready to cut him in two.

"It's just a dance, cuz," Twyla said nudging her cousin's arm as she walked past heading to the floor herself along with other people. The lap dance show was over.

Yani shoved past him and her friends followed.

Bet.

He headed back to the bar and ordered a couple of shots. Shipley joined him and they drank and talked, watching people dance on the floor. Erik tracked Yani's movement as she danced with different men.

"Can't believe that's the same chick at the compound," Shipley said.

"Yep," Erik answered.

They watched Neal approach Yani and she wasted no time sending him on his way. The way her friends swooped in to protect her, Neal had no chance of harassing her further.

"Whew, I gotta slow down," Linda said.

She plopped down on a stool next Erik and asked for water from the bartender. Twyla walked past him and gave him a look. Erik shrugged his shoulders at her and Twyla rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"Had no idea Yani was a regular Cinderella," Linda said.

"She fine," Shipley said.

Erik found that surprising since he never showed interest in women built like Yani before.

"Thought you didn't like thick bitches," Erik said.

Linda eyed Shipley with amusement.

"She could be the exception," Shipley said gulping down a shot of tequila with lime.

"He'll fight you for that," Neal said.

Erik watched Neal grab a beer from the bar.

"What?" Shipley said.

Erik felt his face harden.

"That's Killmonger's pussy."

"Shut the fuck up," Erik snarled.

"You're fucking the help?" Linda asked.

She tossed her head back and laughed at him.

Erik stepped off the stool he sat on and left the bar in a huff.

"Killmonger…hey….hold on…."

Linda followed him and tugged on his arm.

"Hey…we're just drinking and pulling your chain. Calm down."

She steered him to the dancefloor.

"Relax. Loosen up."

Linda swayed in front of him and tried moving his arms. His eyes darted about looking for Yani again, but he had lost track of her.

"How can you not dance to this?"

Linda moved around him, bumped her hip into his and he eventually gave in and danced a little.

"Oh, come on now. You're better than this. We fucked it up in Jo'burg. You remember that club with the roof that was caving in!"

Erik smiled. He remembered. The music was hot, fast, and so were the club patrons. That was a good night. Right before the raid…

"…fucking her?"

Erik missed what Linda said. The confusion in his eyes made her repeat the question.

"Is it true? You and Yani?"

"Nah. Neal had been bothering her and I put a stop to it."

"He is aggressive. Nasty piece of work."

His eyes flicked around. Searching still.

"You want to fuck her?"

His eyes glared at her like she was insane.

"It's just a question. She watches you all the time—"

"I barely have time to—"

"I'm just telling you…I think she has a thing for you. I hear her cleaning your room and she stays in there for a long time. You are a neat freak, so there's no reason for her to be in there so long."

Yani in his room lingering?

"I catch her watching you at the gun range…"

Erik dismissed Linda's words when he felt his cell vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out.

A text from Twyla.

Yani is alone in her apartment this weekend. Chez has Sydette. Roommate gone too. Chance to talk?

Erik stopped dancing.

Unger ran up and grabbed Linda's hand to dance.

"I'ma head back to the compound," he said.

Linda nodded her head.

"I'll catch a cab."

"I'll let the others know."

He watched her and Unger head further into the crowd on the floor.

###

Looking around his room, Erik tried to see what Yani would see.

A clean room. Sterile almost without her there anymore. Two boxes of condoms on the dresser. One empty and the other half used. She would probably think he had been with Linda. He hadn't. But he was seeing women outside the compound again. He couldn't help it. It kept his mind off of her.

But seeing her that night brought up all the things festering in his mind about her. Was she okay? Was Sydette fine? Did Yani hate him? How would she react if she saw him in public?

If Linda was able to glean Yani's feelings for him around the compound, maybe she still had a soft spot for him. Maybe he could…

No.

It was stupid to think of going to her. Even with Twyla's encouragement. He hopped into his bed fully nude. No one was at the compound. The secret tracker he placed in Klaue's arm told him the man was on the other side of the island. Inside a hotel. Probably with a woman.

Staring up at the ceiling, his mind settled on Yani again. Seeing her wind her body on that man onstage made him groan as he felt on his dick.

He reached for his cell again and read Twyla's text two more times.

It wasn't worth it.

What could he say to her? I'm checking to see if you've been able to salvage your life after I blew it up?

But damn…

She was so beautiful on stage. Her whole demeanor was just…sexy…bold. She used to make him cum in his pants all the time. Maybe she did that because she knew he was there watching.

He slammed his fists on his bed.

He wasn't going to get any sleep. He would think about her all night.

He reached into his nightstand and pulled out some weed. He smoked a bit and felt his muscles ease up from the tension he carried in them after seeing her.

Killmonger.

His name on her lips sounded so dead to him. There was no malice in her eyes, but they seemed clouded like she was really and truly over him.

That's what he wanted, right? He told her to focus on school and to forget him. But faced with it, faced with true indifference…he didn't want her to forget him.

Taking a long drag he thought of Linda and what she told him. She noticed Yani keeping her eyes on him. She had to still feel something. Lingering in his bedroom had to mean something. Too many good memories in the place. All the things they did to one another. All the time they slept together in a pile with Sydette between them.

Twyla was right. He had to have a final conversation with her that didn't come from a place of anger, but one of love. They still had to part, but he wanted it to be on better terms. He did have things he wanted to say to her. Secret things. Maybe even promise her something that he didn't think he had a right to.

Stubbing out the joint in an ashtray, Erik jumped out of bed and put on some loose sweatpants and shirt.

He borrowed one of Klaue's smaller cars, a blue Beemer with a moon roof.

He let air flow through from the roof of the car as he drove to Yani's place. Every few minutes he thought about turning around, but once he pulled into the parking lot of her small complex, he was fully committed to talking with her.

After a bit of deep breathing in the car, Erik walked up the stairs and tried to find the right words to say. Once he was in front of her door on the far end of the floor, he felt a bit calmer, less afraid. He debated about texting or calling her. It was too late. He was already there and high as fuck…

He pressed his ear to her door.

Noise.

Talking.

No…not talking.

Moaning.

Shit.

"Yes, Baby!"

The seductive mewling in her voice raised his blood pressure.

She was fucking someone.

Zachary.

Erik removed his ear from the door. His hands pressed against the door frame and he closed his eyes. His body burned with rage. That little punk bitch.

He heard a loud male groan erupt from behind the door.

Erik clenched his fists.

The weed had him spinning scenarios. Bust the fucking door down and drag her off that nigga's dick. Or wait for Zachary to leave and pound on the door and…and do what?

Yell at her for getting dick when he had empty boxes of condoms in his room that she saw? Two days prior he was guts deep in some bitch with big ass titties making her holler out his name. Nutted all in that woman's face and didn't even think about Yani while he did it.

But that's your woman in there. Giving your pussy away.

Erik walked away from the apartment.

Back in the car, he pulled out his cell.

Call her. Break up their little party.

Fuming in the car, he sat there for a long time until he could think straight. The weed still had his mind spinning, but he was able to drive back to the compound and crawl into his bed. The sun was rising when he finally fell asleep.

###

"Hey, lazybones."

Erik blinked his eyes.

Linda looked down at him.

"You were out for a long time. Thought I'd check on you," she said.

Erik sat up.

He was still wearing his sweats.

"What time is it?"

"Two."

"Shit," he said.

"Stay in bed. You looked worn out last night."

Erik leaned against the headboard.

"You want anything to eat?"

"Nah. I'm just gonna chill. I feel tired still."

She touched his forehead.

"Are you feeling sick?"

He shook his head and pulled off his sweatshirt and pants. Crawling under the covers he tucked himself into a ball.

"I'll be up in an hour or so."

"Okay. Call me if you need anything. I have to get some things in town. Klaue is still out."

"Cool."

He pretended to go to sleep and Linda left his side.

When she opened his bedroom door, Yani was using a soft bristle broom to sweep the floor in the hall.

"Don't bother him. He's sleeping in," Linda said.

Erik saw Yani's eyes sweep over Linda's short house dress, and then her eyes caught his on the bed before Linda shut the door.

"Bring him some of that soup around three," Linda said.

"Him sick?"

The lilt in Yani's voice had concern.

"No," Linda said.

"Does he need medicine?"

"No. Just bring him the soup to the kitchen like I asked and he'll be fine."

Erik stayed curled under the covers until he saw from his bedroom viewscreen that Yani had left the house. He jumped in the shower and cleaned up, shaved, and threw on some light cologne. He pulled on some beige loungers and hopped back on the bed.

Exactly in one hour, he saw Yani heading down to Klaue's main house with a covered tray. She entered the space and headed to the kitchen.

He hopped on the intercom.

"Can you bring that here, please? In my room?"

He watched Yani's face look perturbed as she stood in the kitchen. She knew he was watching her.

"Yuh not sick. Get it yourself."

She left the kitchen.

"Bring it here please."

He watched her calculate her next move. Unlike the time when they were together at the compound alone, Klaue had everything watched. If she refused to do her job, Klaue would see it. The bedrooms were pretty secure because Klaue did allow that privacy. He wanted her in his room.

"I have some laundry to be picked up too," he said.

He saw her lip pout and he smiled. Her cell phone rang.

"Yeah?" she answered.

Erik waited. A smile came across her face and she started to giggle into the phone. Flirty-like.

"Mi can't tonight…can't. I'm working…"

She hung up and put her cell in her back pocket. Her smile left her face when she picked up the food tray and carried it to his room. She kicked the door with her foot softly.

He opened it.

"Thanks," he said taking it from her hand.

She turned away.

"Wait, the laundry, my sheets—"

"You do your own cleaning, remember?"

Her eyes were petulant looking up at him.

"Yeah, but um…I'm not feeling great—"

"Linda said you were fine…can I go?"

Mean.

She wasn't with the shits.

Her mind was on giggling over Zachary.

He walked slowly over to his bed and climbed in balancing the tray. She moved over to help him.

"Thanks," he said.

Her eyes took in the room and when they glanced at his dresser, he made sure the condoms were gone. She went to the hamper in his bathroom.

"There's nothing in here," she said, annoyed.

"I need these sheets changed," he said.

"I'll come back then, or you can have Linda change them for you—"

"Yani, wait a minute."

He lifted up too fast and the tray tilted. He spilled some soup on the covers.

"You did that on purpose," she said.

"No, I didn't."

"What do you want, man?"

He hated the sound of her voice at that moment. She didn't want to be around him.

"I miss you," he said.

"I don't think so."

"I do—"

"You got Linda and whoever else…"

Her eyes drifted toward the dresser.

"And you have Zachary."

Her eyes regarded him with suspicion.

"I heard you on your phone."

"You don't know who I was talking to."

"You're not with him?"

She left the room.

Erik jumped off the bed and ran after her.

"Hold up—"

"I don't have time for your shit—"

He grabbed her hand. She snatched it back.

"Clean up your own fucking mess!"

She stormed out of the house and he let her go.

"Whoa. That was…awkward."

Linda walked into the room, coming in through the back door.

Shit.

"So…um…the help…" she said.

Erik stomped back to his room and slammed the door shut.

###

Chp 22 Here

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syms-things-5 · 4 years

Text

Clear The Area - Chapter Seven

Previous Chapter HERE

Warning: Some language

Chapter Seven

Curled up on the sofa next to Shan with the bottle of red Noah had left was where Sarah found herself later that same evening, not entirely of her own doing. She’d changed into her sweatpants and her old university hoodie for comfort as soon as she’d arrived back but she still found it hard to relax.

Earlier, after they’d left the gallery, they had continued walking to the restaurant Jocelyn had scouted for them based upon a magazine review she’d read in Home & Country. They had managed to keep their awkwardness to a minimum so no one could tell but Chris soon felt the need to make an excuse and leave. Just before they arrived at the restaurant, he turned to thank Noah and Jocelyn for a nice afternoon and left them to it claiming his producer had emailed some last-minute script amendments he needed to be clued up on. Thankfully, he was a good enough actor that they didn’t suspect anything was amiss. He kissed Jocelyn on the cheek and patted Noah on the back of his shoulder but pretty much ignored Sarah as he walked off back in the direction of his own apartment, head down to avoid the rain. The three of them continued but Sarah had lost her appetite by that point so they called it a night after having a drink at the bar next door.

She texted Chris on the way home to tell him her folks had said it was nice to see him. She had no real reason to tell him that of course but it seemed like the thing to do. That was now over an hour ago and Chris still hadn’t responded. Anyone else would have assumed, logically, that he simply hadn’t seen it yet, or he had been in the process of replying but got distracted with something else, but she knew differently. She found herself anxious at the best of times but not so much concerned with what other people thought of her, if they thought anything at all, or whether she had annoyed anyone. The Evans clan were the exception to that rule. They knew her better than almost anyone. She figured, should she ever wind up missing, that she would be one of those people about whom others would give very banal police statements such as “she was quiet” or “she kept herself to herself” or “actually, now you mention it, she does look a little bit like a female Cillian Murphy.” She almost certainly would not have a candle-light vigil held for her in a park, which was a sobering thought.

“This guy’s a dick.” spoke Shan, mouth full of cookie dough, snapping Sarah out of her head for a second. “He’s stolen another designer’s idea but the judges haven’t figured it out yet.”

Sarah tried quickly to catch up with what was happening on the TV screen. “Is he gonna get away with it? Will they get told, or...?”

“Yeh, the producers will say something. They’re just ramping it up for the drama.”

Sarah loved how into Reality TV Shanna was. Don’t count her out of a quiz team; she knows everything there is to know about Project Runway and could put anyone to shame with her intricate knowledge of Kim Kardashian’s romantic life. Possibly even more so than Kim herself. It was both strangely impressive and kind of scary at the same time, and was possible also the reason why Chris never invited her to parties in L.A.

“So, who is going to win again? Is there a frontrunner yet?”

“We’ve only had three episodes but Jody, definitely. She’s soooo cool. I’m following her on Instagram and she designed these flares that I’m gonna buy if they ever go on sale.” Shan pulled out her phone and started scrolling through the app to find them.

Sarah poured herself another glass of wine and waiting to be blown away by Shan’s ever-changing fashion sense. She wished she was confident with clothes and colour as Shanna had grown to be. She was never afraid to experiment with what she wore, often clashing but somehow always pulling it off. Confidence is key, she would say if you asked her for advice. You can wear absolutely anything you like if you act like you don’t give a shit. In stark contrast, if you managed to find something that wasn’t beige or mauve in Sarah’s closet, it would be a miracle. Actually, if you managed to find anything in her closet that was younger than five years old would be a rarer find than a double rainbow. “Autumnal” is how she would describe it. “Dull as fuck” would be Audrey’s response.

“Oh, Chris wants to know if we’re bringing anyone to his party next week. Matt needs numbers. Do you think Audrey will fancy coming?” Shan offered without looking up from her phone. “Actuallt, stupid question.”

“Actually, no, I don’t think so. I think it’s hers and Michael’s anniversary. She mentioned they were thinking of driving up to the coast.” She took a sip from her glass. “Did he just ask you that?”

“Yeh. Well, like ten minutes ago but I forgot to say anything.” Shan was still scrolling through her phone to find the photograph and couldn’t see the dejection cross Sarah’s face.

“Here they are. Look. Funky or what?” Shan excitedly waved her phone in Sarah’s direction so she could only make out a swirl of blue and purple. They were definitely flares, though. Ideal for a themes costume party but probably everyday wear for someone as ballsy as Shanna. “I reckon these with my black platforms and that red angora sweater of yours.” Maybe Sarah’s wardrobe was of some appeal after all.

“Yeh, I could see you in those for sure.” Sarah smiled. “But that sweater is the only decent thing I could wear on a date that isn’t part of my day to day stuff so you need to be careful with it.”

“Aww you saving it for Greg?” Shan winked.

“Hardly.” Sarah tried to find the energy to eye roll back at her but she was too bothered by the confirmation that Chris was almost certainly absolutely definitely ignoring her.

“Shan? I think I’ve done something stupid and I’m not sure what to do.”

Shan looked taken aback for a moment before just plain confused. “Sarah, you don’t do ‘stupid’. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s fixable.” she leaned forward a little, moving closer to Sarah on the armchair next to the couch. “You know, it sounds odd but I had this feeling something was going on. You’ve been a little distracted lately. What is it?”

Now it was Sarah’s turn to hope Shanna wouldn’t be mad at her. “You know I contacted the agency? About Charlotte? Well, they’ve put me in touch with her and things have moved on a little bit since and now we’re sort of talking to each other. We’re thinking of meeting up soon.”

Shanna’s eyes grew wider in surprise. She’d known about Sarah’s response to the agency’s request and had made her feelings approximately clear some time before, but the actual talking part was new information.

“We’ve been texting a bit.” Sarah continued with some trepidation. “She gave them her number to pass on to me. She’s thinking of coming to Boston soon, maybe to have a drink or something. What do you think?”

Shan looked at Sarah without blinking for a moment. She didn’t know what to think. “Wow, you have her number? And she has yours? Obviously, sorry. That was a dumb thing to ask. OK. Well, I guess that’s that then.” Shanna placed her phone down on the coffee table in front of her and readjusted her position on the couch so she was facing Sarah more now.

Sarah rubbed the back of her neck. “Chris thinks I’m being stupid.”

“Oh, Chris thinks everyone is stupid if they don’t think the exact same way he does.” Shanna exaggerated her eye roll causing Sarah to chuckled. “Have you heard him talk about Giants fans?!”

“He is right, though, isn’t he? It’s a risk. I mean, she didn’t want to know before so what’s changed now?”

“A lot of things could have changed, Sarah. I guess you’ll find out soon enough.” Shanna responded. “When do you think you guys’ll meet?”

“She’s gonna let me know. She has to travel to Boston so I guess it depends on her journey.” Sarah shrugged, noting Shanna’s scepticism. “I’m sure she’ll contact me.”

“Yes, of course she will.” Shanna briefly paused. “Where is she from?”

“Raleigh, North Carolina. She wasn’t born there, I don’t think. Moved for work. I’m guessing she’s from Michigan originally but I don’t really know that for sure.”

Shanna nodded along, taking in everything Sarah was telling her and trying not to appear cynical. Having been on the end of something similar some years earlier, she appreciated how comforting the support was even if she herself knew it to be forged somehow. She knew the last thing Sarah would need right now was to be told she was being foolish, and she made a mental note to elbow her stupid brother in his ribcage the next time she saw him.

“I was going to tell them this weekend but I bottled it. After everything Chris said, I just figured maybe they would think I didn’t appreciate them enough. I just can’t put that on them. Not now. Not until I’ve at least met her.” Sarah rubbed both hands down her face. She didn’t know what to do and had kind of hoped that Shanna would magically make everything better.

“From everything I know of Joss and Noah, I really don’t think they would ever stop you from seeing her.” Shan nudged Sarah’s foot with her own, trying to get her attention back. “You can’t expect them to be over the moon aout it but they would at least understand your choosing to do so. And despite Chris’s opinion, that’s what this is. Your choosing. You have control over this and if you say so, well, then...that’s all that matters.”

Sarah smiled softly at Shanna, glad she’d taken the plunge and finally told her what was going on. Her shoulders felt a little lighter after removing some of the weight.

“But I can’t promise we’ll be OK. We’ll worry about you until she gives us reason not to.” Shanna leaned back on the couch, wine now in hand, and curled her feet back under herself. “Tough shit.”

Sarah watched as a smile slowly spread across Shanna’s face, her eyes full of sympathy. “You have to face it. We love you very much and if she dares even cross you? Just once? We’ll burn her house down.”

“OK.” Sarah nodded, wiping her eyes of the tears that had started forming in the corners. “OK, deal.”

Nothing had really changed in the days that followed. Sarah had the impression Chris was continuing to ignore her, with only short, clipped phrases padding out any conversation they might have had by accident. She was also pretty sure he and Lisa had both been talking to Shanna about it when he thought she couldn’t hear him, casually enquiring about her plans to meet. At several times, she caught the ends of hushed conversations and experience the odd awkward moment where everything would freeze as soon as she’d walk into the room. If they had been hoping to alleviate any concern, they were failing. Shanna was also a terrible liar at the best of times but to her credit, Sarah had heard her give Chris an earful for what he’d said to her following their visit to the McCurry exhibition and he had promised to offer Sarah an apology but that had yet to materialise, not that she cared much. Shanna had also decided not to give away any details of their impending meeting and for that, she’d be eternally grateful.

“So,” Audrey said, leaning on the desk where Sarah had set up camp to catch up on some patient admin. “You’re really going to see her, huh? How will you know it’s her?”

“How do you mean?” Sarah looked up briefly from the papers in front of her, a crease forming on her brow. She was fed up of people’s judgements.

“Will she be carrying a white newspaper and some roses, or has she sent you a photograph of herself so you know who to look out for?”

No sarcasm intended, Audrey was serious and she was right. That was a really good question. Crap. She hadn’t given much thought to asking Charlotte what she looked like and the photograph from twenty-nine years ago of a young curly-haired brunette with wide, tired eyes might not be the most entirely accurate depiction to work off. She could be a full-time blonde right now, and she had no idea how tall or slim she might be. In a strange way, being caught up in the unnerving anticipation of finally meeting her birth mother, she must have simply assumed they would bear a passing resemblance to one another. That their eyes would meet across a room and they would know instantly who the other person was. Maybe they would hug first and conversation would flow naturally from there and it would be like, where have you been all my life?

One thing Lisa had offered by way of advice was to tell Sarah to stop putting unrealistic expectations on herself. She told her she didn’t want her to be disappointed but it was almost too late for that now. She couldn’t help but get a little carried away the more she thought about the infinite possibilities and the closer their arranged date crept up on her, the more agitated she became.

Work had been something of a welcome distraction. A chance to ground herself in reality as opposed to daydreaming all the what-ifs she might have before the weekend arrived. She’d even allowed herself to flirt a little bit with Greg, not too much but certainly enough to garner Audrey’s amusement and surprise.

“I’m just saying. It’s worth asking for some kind of idea of what she plans to wear, or maybe you should tell her something about yourself?” Audrey suggested. “I’ve always thought you would look amazing with rose gold hair and that would give you a perfect way to stand out.”

“I’m not gonna dye my hair. Remember what happened last time? That charity thing? I had to replace all of my towels.” They both laughed at the memory but something had clearly struck a chord somewhere inside her and Sarah pondered it for a second. “You’re right, though. I haven’t really thought much beyond the day itself.” Sarah looked back down at the work in front of her, all of it suddenly losing focus. “Tell you the truth, I have no idea what I’m going to say to her.”

“Yes, you are quite awkward at the best of times, aren’t you?”

Sarah eyed Audrey for a second unsure of what to say before catching the smirk on her face. She threw a roll-up memo note at her face.

“What do you think you’ll say to her?” Audrey asked, more seriously now.

Sarah took a deep break and leaned back in her chair. Truthfully, she had been losing sleep over this very subject, swinging between general chit-chat you would have with a long-lost pal you’d just added on Facebook, and calling her every name under the sun. She figured the fairest most useful thing would be somewhere between the two.

“I have no idea. Every time I think I have a hold on the situation, some other thought pops into my head and it’s like I’m back at zero again.” She threw the pen she’d been holding on to the table and looked at Audrey. Audrey’s face was full of something akin to worry.

“If you like, I could always call you, like on a date? If everything is OK, you can ignore it. If not, it could be your get-out clause?” Audrey offered. If Sarah had asked, Audrey would have probably staked the place out and sat next to them all night, and only partly because she was nosier than she would admit.

“I love you, Audrey.”

Audrey playfully rolled her eyes. “OK, I get it. This is something you have to do yourself. Just know the offer still stands, OK?” Sarah nodded gratefully. “I’m off in ten and I don’t think I’ll see you again before, so...take care. Let me know how it goes, yeh?”

She grabbed Sarah’s shoulder in a tight grip before walking out of the room, leaving Sarah to her mountain of paperwork and another three hours of shift before she could head home and try to get some sleep.

Sarah waited a second before pulling her phone out of her pocket. The last messages she had sent over the past day or two had all been to Charlotte; all of them casual enough but she’d answered every single one of them. Relief washed over her momentarily as she considered how to approach the awkward subject of not having a clue what her biological mother looked like. Then again, this whole situation was awkward. It was awkward as hell, so she just went for it.

Sarah 9.02pm: Just a thought. Who should I look out for this Friday?

Mercifully, she didn’t have to wait long for a response. The feeling she had was almost pleasant and it caught her off guard.

Charlotte 9.09pm: Oh my word, I didn’t think!! I’ll be in a red dress. Boots. Honestly I only have one nice outfit ;)

She allowed herself to smile for a second at her reply, taking a moment to think about what she was doing. If she could meet Charlotte for an hour, nothing too pressured, she could easily grab a cab to Chris’ place afterwards and still be there before 9pm. No one would notice.

Sarah 9.12pm: No problem. I’ll look out for you. Still OK for 7.30?

Charlotte 9.14pm: Absolutely! Looking forward to it x

#chris evans #chris fic #evans fic #Clear The Area #Sarah Bernette #chris evans x original female character #Syms Writing

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notseriousseriously · 4 years

Text

The Magic Gang’s “Death of the Party” Breathes Life Into A Not So Fun Time

“Death of the Party” is just what the doctor ordered for a year that has made it hard to keep a positive attitude.

Photo via DIY Magazine

by Tania Pérez

“Death of the Party” is The Magic Gang’s second album and sees a more mature band talk about realistic situations while maintaining their positive outlook. The album, released in August of this year, was meant to come out in May, but the group decided to push it back because it “felt too raw” to release it during the pandemic’s peak. The album’s signature indie sound is characterised by the inclusion of various instruments, layered harmonies, smooth vocals and an overall laid back vibe. In “Death of the Party” the U.K. band shows how it has grown and matured since the release of their self-titled debut album in 2018.

The Magic Gang’s sophomore album was recorded over the course of four weeks in Atlanta last summer with the help of Grammy-winning producer Ben H. Allen. The band described the experience as a “mental heatwave”. In an interview with DIY Magazine the band’s members, guitarists Jack Kaye and Kris Smith, bassist Gus Taylor and drummer Paeris Giles, shared that they spent Atlanta’s summer evenings absorbing “the sounds of Atlanta’s musical natives, catching sweaty hometown gigs”. However, the most important experience was attending a Sunday service at Martin Luther King’s church. “It was one of the most moving experiences of my life”, said Giles.

As opposed to their debut album where the band wrote idealistic love songs that sounded roughly the same, “Death of the Party” sees a more experimental band play with different tempos. Kaye told NME that in the first album they wanted to recreate the live experience, but for the second album the goal was to deconstruct every song and “think more specifically about each tune”.

Photo via DIY Magazine

“Death of the Party” lends itself to all kinds of listening– you can listen to it while laying in bed or having a small socially distanced get together. In short, the album is equal parts dance party and pity party.

The upbeat “Think”, “Just a Minute”, “Take Back The Track” and “Make Time For Change” are the perfect antidote for a year that has forced us to find joy in little things. The brassy “Think” tells us to hold on a moment, contemplate, and remember love. The Motown horns continue in “Make Time For Change” where the band tells us that it is never too late to better ourselves.

The woozy “Make A Sound” features an electric piano that is the perfect complement to the group’s polished harmonies. It is the most indie-sounding track on the record. Smith admits he’s “somewhat unwell” in the grungy “Gonna Bounce Back”, but amidst the song’s “power chords and soul” he resolves to bounce back. Kaye begs his partner to hold him close and never let him go in the teen rom-comesque “Just A Minute”, a sentiment that hits close to home for quarantine lovers.

The Beatles and The Beach Boys’ influence on the band shows in “(The World) Outside My Door”, which was written during the Extinction Rebellion protests. The harmonies call back to The Beach Boys while the song’s psychedelic vibe reminds one of The Beatles’ “Tomorrow Never Knows”.

The standout song on the album is the disco-inspired “Take Back The Track” with its funky bass and drums and a guitar layer that reminds DIY Magazine’s James Balmont of Nile Rodgers. The “aah” heard in the chorus was lifted from New Orleans’s The Meters’ classic “Cissy Strut”. The song was inspired by Sister Sledge’s “Pretty Baby” which the band heard on a night out at a legendary bar in North London. The song even includes the lyrics “In the light of dawn I found it” as an homage to “Pretty Baby”’s lyrics “In the light of he dawn/ A pretty babe was born”. “Take Back the Track” even appeared on the BBC Radio 1 playlist among songs from artists like The 1975.

The album also includes “a very weird accidental crossover” between “Make A Sound” and the title track. Kaye and Smith told NME that they went to the same party and both members accidentally wrote a song about it. Kaye’s lyrics “Sounds like it could be two people arguing/ And I hope it’s not my friend/ Cause that can f*** up a good night and I don’t want that for them” in “Make A Sound” references Smith’s “Death of the Party” where he sings “Everyone around me wants to see us fight/ And if you keep on pushing then you know that I might”.

The Magic Gang has had time to think about the album in the year between its production and release. Smith told DIY Magazine “The songs have the same lyrics, but I reflect differently now because of all this very abstract dread going on in the world”, stating that the problems he was “moaning” about are minuscule compared to the world’s current state. Regardless of the levity of their problems, the band’s message to stay positive is even more relevant now.

In 2018 Vice called The Magic Gang a “vital part of their city’s fledgling reputation for bright, purposeful new bands”, and they have lived up to that reputation. “Death of the Party” proved The Magic Gang to be a versatile band able to explore new sounds while staying true to their own. With their optimistic outlook and harmony magic, The Magic Gang brought life to a party all of their own.

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metamorphicrocky · 5 years

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prompt: Set two years in the future, Little Cato has been hiding the fact that he's gay for a few months. He decides it's finally time to come out to everyone with the encouragement from Ash who knows his secret. Then cue the scene where Gary's hugging his son and telling him that he loves him no matter what.

YES TO THIS PROMPT. YES YES YES. I already wanted to write a coming out fic but the timeskip?? oh I love it. thank you so much for blessing me.

"Okay, okay. Your ten o'clock? I think someone's interested in you," Ash teases, pointing at the person she's talking about.

Little Cato turns around in his barstool to see who Ash is talking about, and he makes eye contact with someone around his age. And oh. The guy staring at him is with a group of other teens, and he waves with a smile when he sees Little Cato looking.

"Ah! You're blushing!" Fox yells, a bit too loudly.

Ash laughs, "Oh, that is adorable. Go talk to him!"

Little Cato's head whips towards his friends. He shakes his head rapidly, his mouth opening and closing in confusion. He couldn't, no no no.

"Nope, not happening."

"Go! Go! Go! Go!" Ash and Fox chant together.

The young Ventrexian crosses his arms, refusing to move from his seat. Fox starts gently pushing him off of the seat though, so he immediately starts grabbing at the bar counter frantically.

"Guys, no!" he hisses. "I don't know how to talk to him, plus I look gross. My hair isn't even styled."

Anxiously, he hunches into himself and runs a hand through his mohawk which really needs to be redyed and actually gelled. And oh wow, there's a stain on his shirt, so he is definitely not going to talk to that cute guy who is walking over to him—

What. The. Hell.

"Oh my gosh, he's walking over!" Ash squees. "Go meet in the middle, it'll be so romantic!"

And then the traitor pushes him off of his seat, and he stumbles forward, nearly crashing into the ridiculously cute guy.

"You okay there?" the guy asks with the most pleasing voice he has ever heard, placing his hands on Little Cato's elbows to help steady him.

Oh hell, he can feel his entire face heat up, but he clears his throat and says, "Yeah. She just, uh, pushed me. You know how friends are, right?"

The guy laughs nervously, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, my friends are the reason I'm over here. I'm Harrison."

"Little Cato."

Harrison laughs. "That's a cute name."

"Heh. Yeah. So, uh...," Little Cato trails off nervously. Oh fuck oh shit oh fuck what is he doing?!

"I like your hair. The blue goes well with your, uh, orange." Harrison rubs the back of his neck, and he's also blushing.

"I like your you." Little Cato can hear Ash and Fox losing their minds behind him, and he stiffens up. "I meant to say, I like you. Because that's how talking works. And not...what I said...before."

Their very awkward conversation takes a lull, and Little Cato just takes in all of his features with the sound of the bar behind him. Wow, Harrison is...really cute. And he seems nice, which is a definite bonus.

"Do you, um, want to go out some time?" Little Cato asks, and the two different groups of friends scream. The moment he realizes what he said, he panics.

But before he can backtrack, Harrison smiles, and it nearly kills Little Cato from how cute it is. "Yeah, I'd love to. Should we exchange numbers, or...?"

The Ventrexian nods. "Yeah, yeah, that'd be good."

They both take out their phones, Little Cato's much older in model, and hand them to each other. They quickly type in their names and numbers and switch back.

"Your last name is Goodspeed?" Harrison asks in disbelief. "As in, like, Gary Goodspeed?"

Little Cato laughs. "Yeah, he's my dad. Adoptive, but still my dad."

"Holy shit, that is so cool! He's like, a total legend at my school. And everywhere else. What's he like? Is he as badass as he sounds?"

He smiles fondly, thinking about how crazy Gary is. "He's the best. And definitely badass, without a doubt."

"Wow, that's—!"

The door to the bar slams open, cutting Harrison off. Everyone turns to look, probably expecting a bar fight about to go down, but instead Little Cato is met with the sight of his dad and Quinn. Gary looks absolutely ecstatic while Quinn has her head in her hands, definitely hating how loud Gary has to be sometimes.

"Little Cato!" Gary shouts, noticing his son among the crowd.

Little Cato's face breaks out into a grin. "Dad!"

They both sprint towards each other, Gary stopping when they're close enough so that Little Cato can run into him. Their arms wrap around each other tightly, Little Cato resting his head on Gary's shoulder.

After a few moments, Gary pulls away and holds his boy by his shoulders, scanning him up and down. "Have you grown since the last time I saw you? You look taller."

Little Cato laughs. "It's been three days, so no. How'd it go?"

Gary wraps an arm around his shoulders, ruffling his hair. "We still haven't found it, but we got a much better lead."

The bar has been silently watching this interaction the entire time, in awe of the Gary Goodspeed, but finally someone speaks up, and it just so happens to be Harrison.

"Oh my god, you are so much cooler in person," he says in complete awe.

"Dad, this is Harrison," Little Cato introduces, walking over to the teen so that they can meet.

Gary smiles and holds out his hand for him to shake. "Gary, nice to meet you. So, bud, you made a new friend?"

Little Cato smiles tightly, knowing that Gary means well. "Yeah, new friend."

"Wow, you weren't kidding when you said he was badass," Harrison laughs, still kind of in shock over Gary's presence. "Are all of your battle stories really true?"

"Oh, yeah. Every single one," Gary responds. "I'd love to keep talking, but we actually gotta go, Spidercat. Nice to meet you, though! I'll be outside, bud."

"Okay, see you there." Little Cato turns to Harrison who is still floored and starstruck. "What, would you rather date my dad than me?" he jokes.

Harrison laughs, shaking himself out of his trance. "As much as I'd love to, I think you're much more cute."

Little Cato blushes, laughing quietly at the compliment. "I'll text you so we can meet up before I go. I don't know when it'll be, but we bounce around a lot. So, uh, bye!"

"See ya!"

Ash and Fox trail out after Little Cato, both giving him smug looks. He folds his ears flat against his head in embarrassment, and he shushes them.

"You better let me be your wingman for the first date," Fox says, a giant and giddy smile on his face.

"And I am definitely helping you pick out what to wear!" Ash pipes in.

Little Cato shakes his head. "You guys need to be quiet about this, okay? I don't want Gary to know."

The siblings deflate immediately, frowns on their faces. "You still haven't told him?" Ash asks.

He shakes his head, crossing his arms against his chest.

Fox places a hand on his shoulder. "You need to have a talk with your dad. Like, yesterday. He needs to know."

"I know, but...ugh, I'm just nervous, okay?" Little Cato huffs, deeply-ingrained frustration seeping into his voice.

Ash and Fox share a look over his head, making Little Cato regret allowing them to encourage him to talk to Harrison. Both of his friends stop him before be can exit the bar and kill the conversation.

"Why are you nervous?" Ash asks kindly.

He shrugs. "What if he gets mad?"

"Gary isn't like that, and you know it," insists Fox.

"Yeah, but," Little Cato sighs heavily. "What if he's like that with me? Like, only me being...you know, is what bothers him? I don't wanna lose him, too."

He feels a hand slap him, not lightly, and he looks up at Ash in betrayal. She's glaring, pointing a serious finger at him. Fox next to her has his hands on his hips, the same expression on his face.

"You, mister, are going to tell Gary that you're gay," Ash orders. "And you are not allowed to go on a date with that very cute boy until you do it."

"Yeah, Little Cato. Gary could never hate you, especially because of something like this."

Little Cato's shoulders slump, knowing that his friends are right, and that he won't get out of doing this even if it hadn't been something he has wanted to do for a long time. He gives them a nervous smile and pushes through them to get to Gary and Quinn outside.

"Hey, Quinn," he says, greeting her with a hug.

"Hi, Little Cato. You didn't burn down the house while we were gone, did you?" she jokes.

He rolls his eyes. "Of course not."

"Well, let's head home and chill, then we can fill you in on everything. That sound good, kiddo?" Gary asks, ruffling his hair again.

Little Cato nods and smiles, hiding his shaking hands in his pockets, hoping that Gary can't see through him right now.

----

Whenever Gary is gone for a few days and then comes back, Little Cato is always attached to him at the hip because he missed him. And Little Cato is doing that again, because he definitely did miss his dad, but this time is much more awkward. And nerve-wracking.

They got home, talked shop, and then went to bed because the adults were tired. Little Cato sat in his bed all night trying to come up with a plan, but nothing came to mind. So, he texted Harrison. Which made things even worse because damn it, he really likes him.

A lot. An excessive amount of like. He's a fan of all of the things Little Cato likes, and he's really funny.

Oh fuck, he's in deep now.

So now, the Ventrexian is eating breakfast next to his dad, glancing between him and his pancakes. He's still trying to come up with a way to say what he needs to say, but still nothing. This is going to be a disaster if he doesn't get it right.

"Hey, bud. Do you wanna go fix up your bike after breakfast?" Gary asks.

"Yeah, sounds good," Little Cato says, stuffing his face with pancake to avoid further conversation.

Little Cato notices that Gary is wearing the hoodie he got custom-made for his birthday that says Thunder-Bandit on it in a funky font, and that just sets his nerves off even more. His dad absolutely loves that hoodie, and he doesn't want to ruin this relationship if he messes this up.

Okay, now he's about to panic. Focus on the pancakes, not every single way this coming out could go wrong.

They both finish at the same time, so Gary takes their plates and puts them in the sink. Together, they walk to the garage and open the door to get some natural light in. Gary gets the tools as Little Cato drags his out of commission hovercyle out from the depths of the garage. This thing has been broken for a while, but he's just been borrowing Gary's whenever he wants to ride it since they've been too busy to fix it.

Gary opens the hood, staring down at the engine inside to see what the problem is. He starts working on it by himself, and Little Cato sits down, content to watch for now because it gives him time to think.

After a few minutes of dead silence besides the sound of his dad working, Little Cato can't take it anymore. He's biting the bullet. He can do this. He can tell him.

He stands, his tail twitching nervously. "Dad? Can we talk?"

Gary immediately stops. He stands up from his bent over position, wiping his grease-covered hands on a rag.

"Yeah? What's up, Spidercat?" he questions, standing closer to his kid.

"I'm, uh...," Little Cato trails off, his throat going dry. He coughs awkwardly. "You see, I wanted to, ummm, tell you. Something."

Gary nods encouragingly, an inviting smile on his face. Little Cato's heart is beating so fast that he's worried it'll burst out of his chest in a moment. Why is this so terrifying?!

"So, I–," his voice cracks as his hands begin shaking. The kid starts playing with his fingers, trying to calm down.

His dad, always patient when it comes to him, places a hand on his shoulder. Little Cato's eyes start welling up with tears, feeling incredibly overwhelmed.

"I'm gay," he blurts, and he presses his mouth into a thin line. He shuts his eyes, waiting in anticipation for anything.

"That's awesome, bud!"

What?

Little Cato opens his eyes to see his dad smiling brightly, a fond look in his eyes. He doesn't look upset.

"Really?" Little Cato breathes.

"Of course. I'll always love you, no matter what. Thank you for telling me, kiddo," Gary says, nothing but pure adoration in his voice.

Little Cato laughs, and he quickly wraps his arms around Gary's torso, squishing his face into his dad's chest even though he's a bit too tall to do it comfortably anymore. The man hugs back, one of his hands carding through the fur on the back of his head. Little Cato feels him plant a kiss to his forehead, and the teen smiles happily.

They break apart, and Gary looks so proud. It makes Little Cato feel warm.

"So, um, can I go on a date?"

Gary smirks. "Harrison?"

Little Cato's mouth falls open. "How did you know?"

His dad laughs. "Dad powers. Now, let's work on this baby here so that you can take him out in style."

"Yeah, that sounds great," Little Cato says, joining in on the work.

As they work, Little Cato gushes on and on about what Harrison is like as his dad listens intently, and everything feels right again.

#don't mind me casually making Gary a household name for being great #final space #final space season 2 #gary goodspeed #little cato #fox #ash graven #quinn ergon #dadspeed #fs fics

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abbyilr1967 · 5 years

Text

Calling For You - Part 2

Summary: When Dean is given the mark, you didn’t think things could get any worse. That is until the love of your life dies, and his body vanishes. Y/n will do anything and everything to get him back, even if that means she gets hurt.

Pairings: Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader (platonic).

Warnings: Swearing, Blood, torture, PTSD Dean, Angst, Sadness, Dark Reader.

It had taken you all of twenty minutes to get out of those shackles, but now you have to find your way out of the dungeon. Sam was long gone by now, but that doesn’t mean you still can’t help him. Wandering around the dungeon, which is lined from wall to wall with funky gadgets that the men of letters used to conduct their supernatural experiments.

The door to the dungeon was metal, so you couldn’t kick it down, still scanning the room you come across a crowbar. Picking up the crowbar you feel it had a good amount of weight to it, and shove it into the seam where the door meets the frame. You push a pull for what feels like hours, and it doesn’t budge. Throwing the crowbar to the ground with a loud clunk, silence fills the room. All you can hear is the sound of your labored breaths, and the flutter of wings flapping.

You lift your head and are met with the crystal blue eyes of Castiel.

“How’d you get in here?” you ask annoyedly, throwing your head back down in defeat.

“Sam and Dean removed some of the angel wardings for me,” he says. “Sam told me to bring you some food,”

You lift your head back up.

“You know where Sam is?” you ask eagerly.

“Ye-” Cas is cut off by you jumping to your feet and shaking his shoulders.

“You need to take me to him now!” you plead. “Cas you have to, I need to help him, please Cas!”

“Y/n Sam told not t-” he stops when you grab him by the face, so he's looking directly at you.

“Cas… Look at me, in my eyes.” you start. “I need to get him back, and I will do anything it takes… even if it means getting hurt.”

Cas studies your face for a minute, he can see the pain in your eyes.

“Fine,” he grumbles and you are both zapped into a dirty motel room.

“Jesus Cas ...Y/n.” Same says shocked. “Cas I thought we had a deal.”

“Don’t you blame Cas for any of this, it wasn’t his fault you locked me in the dungeon,” you say smugly

“Y/n, you shouldn’t be here, you could get hurt,” Sam says.

“Sam I hunt with you every day, and this is Dean we’re talking about, Sam I love him and I can’t sleep knowing I didn’t do anything to find him,’ you say.

Sam sighs, “Y/n I found Dean,” he says

“W-w-what?” you whisper. “Where is he, why is he not with you?!” you shout.

“Because he’s a demon.” You look at Sam, wide-eyed. “Crowley called me to tell me he was with him,” Sam says. “I’m going to meet him now,”

“Sam you have to take me with you, I need to see him,” You say sternly.

“Y/n you re-”

“I’m not taking no for an answer Sam, I’m going” you stood your ground.

Sam looked back and forth from you to Cas, before he let out a defeated breath.

“Fine, but you need to stay behind Cas and me, and listen to me when I ask you to do something,”

“I will Sam,” you reply. You can see the pain behind his eyes too, and you forget that you are both experiencing a million emotions at once and that he loves Dean just as much as you do.

You, Sam and Cas climb into the impala, seeing Sam in the driver’s seat gives you a weird feeling in your chest, like it doesn’t feel right. But you push that feeling down because it’s just your anxiety getting to you. The whole car ride to the bar you had been preparing yourself for what you might see, you didn’t know what to expect. You were pulled back to reality when you heard sam turn off the engine

“Ready?” he asks.

“Yeah, I think so,” You reply.

Cas and Sam both have their weapons ready in case of an attack, you had a gun in the glove box but didn’t think to grab it, almost as if your body was in autopilot. One foot moving in front of the other as the three of you head towards the door or the sleazy bar. The minute you step in your ears are greeted with the sound of bad karaoke music. It takes you a minute before you realize the voice singing along with the music.

Dean

Your eyes start frantically looking around for the stage, your heart thumping in your chest. You can hear Sam calling after you, but you ignore him. Running between a large crowd of people you find yourself at the foot of the stage, staring into the vibrant green eyes you’ve missed so much. That’s when he notices you, and his lips tug into a smirk.

When his song finishes he hops off the stage and makes his way back to the bar and orders a drink. You start to march your way over to him when Sam steps in front of you to block any unexpected threats. Dean turns and sees the three of you walking towards him.

“Ugh, are gonna try to drag me home,” he grunts. “Cuz your a little late, Crowley already tried that shit and it didn’t work on me,”

“Dean, let us help you,” Sam says calmly. “We can fix this,” you chime in.

“I like the new me baby, I thought you would too,” he says smugly.

“I miss my Dean, please come home to me,” you say, trying not to let your emotions get the better of you.

“Why would I go home to you when I can have any woman I want, they flock after me like dogs to a juice piece of steak,” he stands, towering over you. The tears start to well in your eyes at his words

“Dean, leave her alone, Y/n and I just want to help you,” Sam says. His gun is now pointed at Dean, ready to render him immobile if need be.

“I don’t think that gun will be needing that Sammy, you see. I’ve got Back up,”

Everyone in the bar when silent and turned towards them, eyes all going black in unison.

The tension in the room is so thick you could cut it with a knife.

“So I suggest,” Dean says will poking you in the shoulder, shoving you back a step.

“That you three,” he pokes you in the other shoulder harder, making you stumble further.

“Leave,” he’s shoved you so hard now that you’ve fallen onto your back, and he’s leaned over you.

“Before we make you leave,” He growls, staring you in the eyes while his turn black.

Dean steps back from you and Sam and Cas are right at your side to help you up.

“We need to go now,” Sam says “we’ll come back when we have a plan,” he whispers in your ear.

You turn to leave, and while you’re walking away you turn back and shout

“Dean please!” you can feel the tears welling in your eyes again. “I Love you Dean, and I need you to come home.” The tears are starting to spill.

“He slowly walks his way back over to you and stops so his face is only inches from yours.

“I never loved you,” he says coldly. Turning back to find his seat at the bar.

Stunned, Sam has to pull you out of the bar and put you in the car before you come back to reality.

“Y/n, he’s not himself ok, you can’t take any of what he says as truth,” Sam says trying to comfort you.

“Sam…we need to fix this, now,” you say continuing to stare out the front of the car.

“We will Y/n, but it might take some time before we find a way,”

“That’s not good enough, we need him back, now,” You say again.

Sam and Cas look at you puzzled.

“Let’s just go home, and well figure this out there,” Cas suggests.

“I can’t go back there, not while he’s gone,” yous say. “Sam drop me off at the nearest motel please, I need some time,”

“Y/n, we can figure this out at home, please let’s not do anything crazy,” Sam tries.

You look at Sam with pleading eyes, and he knows you won’t budge.

“Fine,” Sam huffs and starts the car.

Sam drops you off and tells you that he’s going to call you every morning and every night to make sure you’re ok. But you have other plans in mind. The minute you get your motel room go settle down and lock the door, taking out your phone you block Sam’s number and turn off the tracker so he can’t find you.

If Sam had known what you were about to do, he would have tried to stop you. You need Dean back and you’re prepared to make any sacrifice necessary to do so.

I hoped you liked this chapter, I will be updating this as often as I can because I really like were this is headed

#dean whinchester #sam winchester #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #supernatural fandom #supernatural family #spn family #spn fandom #spn #supernatural #demon!dean x reader #demon dean #sam x reader platonic #dean x reader #reader insert #reader interactive

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the--blackdahlia · 5 years

Text

You’re All That I Need Chapter 5 (Tommy x Nikki)

Title: You’re All That I Need Chapter 5

Summary: It’s the early 80’s and Nikki Sixx is in need of a band. There’s one condition: no other alphas. That should be fine, since he found three betas to fill up the lineup to become Motley Crue. Or, at least he thinks they’re all betas. A collab between myself and @callme-kaz2y5-baby!

Series Warnings: M/M smut (18+ only please), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, mpreg, language, slight drug use, protective Nikki, extremely funky timeline (might add more as we go)

In the practice room Tommy and Mick were talking more than practicing. Tommy would play a little bit, but it was like his heart wasn’t in it. Normally, he was a bouncing mess and that’s what caused issues at practice. But today was the opposite.

"Ok, drummer, what's got you all quiet?" Mich questioned, concerned the drummer wasn't talking his ear off.

"Huh? Oh it's nothing Mick." Tommy said distractedly.

"It's not nothing, T-bone, if I can tell something is up everyone else will too." Mick prodded. “We don’t all have to be alphas to read you like a book when you’re upset.”

"Well.... it's stupid Mick, really.... but.... well.... why, why didn't Nikki mate with me... I think he only helped me out of obligation to the band..." Tommy confided. He looked down at his sticks. He couldn’t believe he actually just said that out loud.

"Tommy, you don't actually believe all of that do you?" Mick questioned.

"I don't know what else to think," Tommy admitted. “He never showed interest in me this way in the past, and suddenly he knows I’m an omega and I just...I think he helped me because he wants to keep the band together…”

"Well I think Nikki cares deeply for you, and I don't think he just helped you for the band. But if your really worried you should talk to Nikki about it." Mick said.

"Talk to Nikki about what?" Nikki asked while walking into the practice room. Tommy looked up at him. He had always thought Nikki was good looking, but after everything that just happened between them, he found him even more attractive.

Which made the potential rejection from the alpha that much harder.

"Nothing," Tommy answered quickly. He didn’t want to talk about this right now.

Nikki looked concerned at the haste of Tommy's response but before he could press him for a further answer Vince walked in.

"We gonna practice today or what?" Vince asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s practice,” Nikki sighed, heading over to get his bass.

The rest of the day was spent practicing for the upcoming show. Tommy seemed more focused than he had been prior to everything and Nikki kept watching to make sure he was okay. After practice was over, Vince decided they needed to go out and get some fresh air.

That led them to a bar. Omega girls instantly flocked to Nikki, and it had him smiling. But Tommy, he headed to the corner of the bar with a drink. Before, he would’ve been there partying it up with Nikki. But the sudden change in hormones from the suppressants failing and causing his true self to come out had taken away some of his party edge. Now, he just wanted to be a wallflower and hope that it would all change once his body got adjusted to it all.

“Can I buy you one?” A big guy asked. He wasn’t as tall as Tommy, but he was thick and his muscles and stance told Tommy that he was an alpha. Then Tommy smelled him and the scent made him queasy. It was overpowering and not as good smelling as Nikki was.

“Oh, I’ve got one dude,” Tommy told him. He just wanted the guy to go away. But Tommy knew that the man could smell him and knew he was an omega.

The guy apparently couldn't take a hint and sat down next to Tommy, "are you here alone?"

"No, I'm with my friends," Tommy answered dryly, getting up to find Mick. He knew the guitarist had to be around somewhere. He normally drank by himself when they went out like this.

The guys hand flashed out and grabbed Tommy by the arm, " where do you think your going omega? I wasn't done with you." the man sneered.

"Let me go," Tommy demanded, he could tell he was letting off a sacred scent. He hoped it would reach Nikki and help him with his current situation.

"I don't think so. You're going to come with me," the guy demanded.

Tommy was trying to struggle and get away, but the man had an iron grip. He was sure it was leaving marks. He hoped that a struggle would alert someone. Why was no one helping? Is this what female omegas dealt with everyday?

“Let. Me. Go!” Tommy tried to pull away. He wasn’t a weak omega by any means, but he really would love for Nikki to show up anytime soon. The guy had him out the door before Nikki’s head popped up when he realized that familiar scent had left the bar.

Nikki looked around quickly and realized he couldn't see Tommy. He raced for the exit and caught a glimpse of Tommy's hair as he was dragged around the corner of the building. Nikki took off after Tommy and skidded around the corner and was shocked at the sight before him.

The man had Tommy by the arm and had forced him to his knees. "There, that's where all your kind belong, isn’t it sweetheart?" the man growled.

"Hey! get your hands off of him! I will not ask you again!" Nikki demanded, allowing his alpha voice to ring out.

“You can have a turn with him when I’m done,” The man laughed at Nikki’s demand. “Omegas like him are happy to serve the alphas. I’m sure he’ll be just happy to suck us both off.”

Nikki saw red then. He picked up a loose length of pipe laying on the ground and in one swift movement, knocked the man out. He was prepared to beat him to death when a voice broke through the haze.

"Nikki, Nik, I'm safe, don't, come on let's go," Tommy pleaded. He didn’t want to watch Nikki get arrested for something like this and he really needed the comfort from the alpha right then.

Nikki shook his head, and dropped the pipe, reaching out for Tommy and checking him over before leading him back inside. Once inside he got Tommy settled in a booth and got them both a drink, he slid into the booth next to Tommy, and wrapped an arm around him. Nikki took a big swig of his drink before he looked over at Tommy.

“Are you ok? Can I do something for you?" He rubbed comforting circles on Tommy’s arm. Tommy leaned into the touch.

"I'll be fine. I just need to be near you," he admitted.

"That's not all though,” Nikki noted. “You've been off all day today..."

"It's stupid," Tommy answered looking away from Nikki.

Hooking a finger on Tommy's chin and pulling his face toward him, "if it has to do with you it's not stupid," Nikki replied. Tommy looked into this green eyes, and he broke.

"It's.... just.... ok.....I.... just.... why didn't you mate with me?" Tommy finally got out.

"Why didn't I... mate with you.... really.... you couldn't consent to a mating. You could barely consent to me helping you through your heat. We hadn't talked about it. Hell, I didn't know you were an omega until a few days ago.. You consented to me helping you through your heat, not bonding forever," Nikki explained.

“But... “ Tommy sighed. “What if I want to be bonded to you forever?” He hated how emotional he was right then. Fuck, why was this all so hard? He kept looking into Nikki’s eyes, looking for a sign that maybe he wanted it too.

Nikki's eyes filled with tears, never imagining anyone would really want him, "Then we can. We do need to discuss it, because this isn’t a spur of the moment thing and I want to make sure you really want it, but I'd be thrilled to be bonded with you forever," he admitted.

Tommy was about to lean in and kiss Nikki when a wild Vince appeared, beers in hand.

“There you two are!” He laughed, handing them each a beer. “You two are missing out!” Tommy sighed but accepted the beer. Nikki kept an arm wrapped around him. He had Tommy pulled into his side.

The night rushed by, and they were headed back to the hotel, finally. Nikki hadn't left Tommy's side the rest of the night, but neither Mick nor Vince questioned why. And honestly, Nikki wasn’t sure if he would even tell them what had almost happened to Tommy. They got back to Tommy's room, and Nikki hesitated.

"You're going to come in....right?" Tommy asked gently.

"Yes," Nikki sighed in relief. He didn’t realize how badly he wanted to get invited into Tommy’s room for the night. "I just wanted to be sure we were on the same page".

“Of course we are. Come on,” Tommy smiled brightly at the alpha and pulled Nikki in the room by his arm.

They got ready for bed, bumping into each other but staying within arms length. They crawled into bed together, Tommy wrapped safely in Nikki's arms, and sleep found them quickly.

Forever Tags: @anathewierdo @dekahg @marvel-af-imagines @feelmyroarrrr @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogarukes @xxwarhawk @sandlee44 @shatteredabby @caswinchester2000 @supernaturalwincestsblog @lauravic @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @teller258316 @horrorpxnk @tommyleeownsme

Motley Crue Tags: @primal-screamer @waywardprincess666 @twistnet @saint-of-los-angeles @vader-kai @motleyfuckingcruee @sharon6713 @kawennote09 @2dead2function @nikkisixxwiththebass @iamtiber-andtiberismusic @jayprettymuchomw @charlyallise @you-know-im-a-dreamer @sweet-dreams-on-butterfly-wings @estxxmotley @arianareirg @the-normal-potato @nikki-sixxtynine @jjjjjjjoshdun @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @stella20131991 @tarahell @wowilovenikkisixx @i-want-to-shoot-myself @motleycrueee @sams-serialkiller-fetish @getbackhonkycatt @are-you-reddie54321 @flamencodiva @lesliethegroupie @deacyduck @scarecrowmax

#you're all that i need #Motley Crue #terror twins #Tommy Lee #nikki sixx #tommy lee x nikki sixx #nikki sixx x tommy lee #fanfiction

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maid-of-the-golden-deer · 5 years

Text

A rundown on my thoughts on Vesperia (I’m at the beginning of the second part, am a chunk of the ways into the Nordopolica Coliseum stuff). Under the cut, broken into “what I liked”, “what I didn’t”, and “what I feel nuetrally on”.

Postives:

The characters are so lovely, I am so attached to all of them, especially Yuri, Flynn, and Estelle. I love the sliding scale of idealism to cynicism they have going (though none of them are 100% either), it’s so fascinating and endearing

Yuri. I’ve been told that he’s almost far and away one of the most popular characters in the whole series and man, I completely get it. The fact that he turns to morally grey actions because he cares so much about the well being of others, even people he knows he’ll never see again, is just so unique for a protagonist that it makes him so hard not to love. You can tell that he wants to be able to be cold, to be unfeeling, but he just can’t, he loves and feels and desires to help others so strongly that he can almost never say no to anything that’s asked of him, even if he’ll offer token complaint along the way. He’s just. A treasure. And he’s a goddamn adult for once, like young protags are fine but seeing a character who has a bit more life experience under their belt is so refreshing

Found family bitches!!! I legitimately teared up when Yuri pat Karol’s head to comfort him. He’s such a big brother to Estelle and Karol it’s so precious!!!! You can really feel that Yuri enjoys having people who rely on him, and whom he can rely on in return. He’s always so supportive!!

Estelle is an angel descended upon this world, I love how shes in many ways sort of a more typical protag than Yuri but instead the game examines the pros and cons of being Like That. That to have that inherent goodness and selflessness is a great thing, but it can also be very selfish. And watching her discover what she really wants in life is a fascinating journey I can’t wait to finish with her

Karol isn’t my favorite child in media but like I want to give the poor boy a hug, like everyone chatises (outside of Brave Vesperia) him for being a coward but like he’s only 12 years old????? I find it perfectly reasonable for him to run??????? He’s a fucking 7th grader. And his reaction to finally getting the acceptance he’s always craved? Mwah

Where I’m at in the story Flynn’s only been in and out and only playable once so I don’t know him as well but he’s an archetype I love so I have immediate bias for him lmao. I do like how they continually go out of their way to show you that him and Yuri have the same same goal, the same morals, the same hopes, but they simply cannot reconcile each other’s methods no matter what. That is exactly how you make amazing rival characters. Even when they opposed each other you could always feel the overwhelming care they have for each other, it’s so good....

Judith is a Queen, I don’t know much about her yet since she’s a relatively recent addition to my party but I love that like the designated fanservice girl has like an actual Reason to be so and like, isn’t just titties out for no reason and actively enjoys it. Her slightly moral ambiguity is also really well done, like you can super tell that she’s a good person but she’s done some shit that was at least callous to the consequences of her good deeds. Also, flirty friendships are my jam Yuri/Judith BrOTP 4 lyfe

Rita is a baby gay and I wish her the best of luck on her journey to come to terms with her lesbianhood. For the most part imo she’s a fairly standard tsundere but like, sometimes having an Archetype...but Gay(tm) is all you need to be a good character

I have no strong feelings on Raven since he’s also been in and out and I don’t really like how he’s voice acted. He’s like, chill, he’s the funky uncle

I tend not to retain much about the story of an RPG the first time I play it since theres so much dialogue and flavor text to plow through but I do kind of like the loose structure of it, it feels very natural, like I’m just along for a random ass adventure these people are having. It’s really linear but it never feels like it’s on rails or anything

Negatives:

I’m not super into the gameplay, I can’t tell if its not good, I’m just bad at it, or a mix of both

Okay the fact that you can’t see enemy health bars in combat unless you hold down a button which also pauses the action is Bad imo, it makes every fight feel way longer bc I’m getting no immediate feedback on my progess

It’s. So. Fucking. Obtuse on what it wants you to do sometimes!!! Like a lot of the time its obvious but then sometimes the only reason I didn’t need a guide is I was blindly spamming A or Y (for shit with the Sorcerer’s Ring) and running into the walls praying something was interactable. I know people complain about games these days holding your hand too much or something but geeze.

Related to the above, minimaps for the dungeons and towns please, like its nice to have on the overworld but honestly I get more turned around and lost in indoor locations, since a lot of the backgrounds aren’t super unique looking. It could be progessively filled out as you go like the overworld map. Please.

I LOVE the story and characters and as I said above but like. The cutscenes break up the action every fucking five seconds, these people can walk and talk!!!! Like not to somehow bring a Bioware comparison into this but like, some of the skits could be had while you’re traversingt he world map instead of stopping you dead. It makes the pacing very “stop and start” and jarring

The puzzles. Wait, that’s not accurate, the long ass sections where you just spam the Y button to hit shit with your socerer’s ring an back track. They suck. The game’s already plenty long, didn’t need padding

No strong opinions on:

The aesthetic. Standard fantasy setting, some of the monster designs are cute and fun, some feel lazy, I likely won’t remember any of them in the long run.

Same for the music. The Dahngrest theme is the only one that ever stood out to me as “oh, I like this”.

Worldbuilding too. The names are a bit Much so I can barely recall a lot of them, and the ones I do I def can’t spell lmao. And I find it hard to retain a lot of the background stuff that you find out when it’s mostly infodumped at you by Estelle like she’s Ye Olde Google

All in all I’m enjoying my time with it, though honestly more for the interactive experience elements than as a game.

#dont worry im not particularly scathing on the shit i dont like #like u might disagree but i promise there wont be a reason to hate him #wow suu talks about a 10+ yr old game #tbf its the fancy new version with all the shit and more #tales of vesperia #yuri lowell #since a good chunk of the pros section is me gushing about him lmao

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romaniassexdungeon · 5 years

Text

Our Souls Briefly Touched in Tallinn

Pairing: OzEst

Rating: Lemon

Summary: It was by chance they met, on a warm summer's night in Old Tallinn, a fleeting moment they shared together, never to be recreated. But, in the end, it was exactly what they both needed. The heartbreak, the yearning, the anticipation, it was all worth it, just to be together.

Notes: Written with @tikola-nesla. Tbh we’ve just been sitting here laughing at our own stupid jokes. Yeah pay no attention to the title or summary, this is 8000 words of absolute jack shit wrote by two sleep-deprived idiots. Every line only served to get a laugh out each other. This was supposed to be cute and fluffy, something we'd come up with while walking around Tallinn at like midnight. Yeah, it quickly descended into piss, but please enjoy.

Logan - Australia Fabrice - Cameroon Angie - Seychelles Hunapo - New Zealand

Read on AO3

...

The cobbled streets of Old Tallinn shone under the lights of restaurants and shop windows. A violinist played for tips by a wall, a family laughed over a late meal outside of a restaurant, and three drunk tourists were chasing down their friend.

“Logan, come back!”

Logan started walking backwards, purely to flip the other three off. “Eat my ass, Febreeze!”

One of the three nudged him. “Go on, Fabrice,” she laughed, “Take one for the team.”

Fabrice glared at her. “Don’t encourage him, Angie.”

“What’s so wrong with my arse?” Logan cried, “Got some juicy melons on me!”

“Oh my god, Lo-”

“Logan, I swear-”

“He’s gonna do it, isn’t-”

Logan pulled his shorts down to his ankles and continued to run ahead, then immediately toppled over onto the cobbles.

“Fuck! What are these made of?”

“Stone.” Fabrice stood over him, offering him a hand up. “Think you’ve had a little much.”

Logan pulled himself up and blew a raspberry into his face.

“Logan, I can see your whole dick.”

“Aww, Huna!” He blew a kiss at them. “You’re welcome!”

He cackled, kicking his shorts off and dancing wildly to the violinist’s gentle tune.

Huna picked up his shorts and chased after him. “You’re gonna get arrested!”

“If they can’t handle my fat balls, my juicy, juicy, nutsacks, that’s on them!”

Angie ran along with them, taking the lead, and jumped onto his back.

“Hey! Piss off me!”

She held onto him tight. “Put your shorts on, dumbass.”

“What are you doing!?”

She thought about it for a moment. “Fuck knows. Put them on before children see.”

“It’s two in the morning! It’s on their parents for not putting them in bed!”

“You can’t talk parenting with your dick out!”

“Watch me!”

Fabrice sighed. “Logan.”

Logan grumbled and prized Angie off his back. “I’ll put them on but only because it’s cold.”

She steadied herself on his shoulder. “Good boy.”

“Not because you told me to.”

“Good enough for us.”

“We can’t let him out of our sights,” said Fabrice.

...

“You let him out of your sights?” cried Fabrice, the moment he stepped out of the men’s room and found Logan missing from the group of faces at the bar. He wasn’t trying to win on the quiz machines, or the condom ones, and he wasn’t flirting with anyone, or everyone. He was nowhere to be seen.

Hunapo and Angie shrugged. “It’s just easier,” said Hunapo.

“He’s just so annoying,” she added.

“Yeah, it’s our holiday too.”

“He’ll start taking his clothes off again!”

“But at least this way, he does it far away from us and people don’t assume we’re with him.”

“We are with him!” Fabrice protested.

“Do we want the police knowing that?”

Fabrice shrugged. “They’ll find out when we pay his bail.” He looked out of the tiny window. “Poor Logan, off by himself, wandering around lost and alone. I hope he’s okay.”

“He’ll be balls deep in something by now,” Hunapo nudged him, “he’s fine.”

...

Eduard sat by himself, as usual, in the corner of his local. His top hat lay next to his collection of pint glasses: one full and several empty. He was drinking too fast for the bar staff to collect them all. His traditional outfit, the one he’d been wearing for two days now, was still neat, but his hair was starting to get in a state, wisps sticking up all over where he’d run his long fingers through it. The main sign that he was not alright, though, were the bags under his eyes and grey tone to his scarily pale face.

Second place.

His choir - the best in Europe, probably, almost definitely - had come second to a group of 50 schoolchildren. He’d been beaten by children. No wonder his parents were never proud of him.

He sighed and downed half his beer in one go.

The rest of his choir were celebrating, but he couldn’t. He was going to drown his sorrows, then plan for next year. With a head start, there should be no reason for them to lose again. It wasn’t second place, it was first last place, and not good enough.

This was why his choir never wanted to drink with him.

“Same again?” the waitress asked, and he nodded, finishing the second half of the pint. “Okay, but I’m getting worried.”

“I’m fine,” he mumbled. “I’m- I’m fine.”

“You should be. Second place! We’re all really proud of you.”

He pulled a face. “We should’ve won. It was my job to make sure we won. My dad was right, though. I’m useless.”

“He said that?”

“No, but he implied it. A lot. Never proud of me. My mother neither. Nothing I did was good enough.” Maybe he should’ve told those kids they’d reached their peak, that it would be all downhill from here on out and, eventually, they’d come to the sad conclusion that they weren’t “gifted” but average after all. But apparently that was “being a sore loser”.

She looked very uncomfortable. “Sir, I’m not sure you should have any more alcohol.”

“Aw, Maarja. Don’t cut me off, maybe I’ll feel something soon.”

“Sir, do you need me to call you a cab?”

“I’m fine. I- I’ll be good.” He drank his next pint slower, slouched and miserable. Maarja nodded and went to take the order of a tourist who’d just walked in. Eduard could immediately tell he was Australian, by his loud, annoying voice that started up like a foghorn the moment he locked eyes with someone. Every Estonian in the bar looked very uncomfortable.

Hopefully, he’d be left alone.

The Australian got his own pint and looked around for someone to talk to. Eduard avoided eye contact like he was a teacher asking the class a question, or an Enderman.

No such luck, as usual. He heard the chair opposite him scrape against the knobbly wooden floor.

“Terry!”

Eduard blinked at him.

“You know, Terry! Hello!”

“Tere,” he said, with the passive-aggression he learnt from his mother.

“That! Terry! Anyway, can I-“ He stumbled over his feet trying to sit on the table, tipping it over and sending pint glasses falling in the process. “-can I try on your hat, mate?”

Eduard glanced up at him. “Might as well.”

Logan got it onto his head - with a little difficulty fitting it on - and sat down next to him. “How do I look?”

“Like a man in a hat.”

“But like… a sexy one?”

“Like a hat-wearing one.”

“Shoulda seen me earlier. Had my whole dick out. It was great.”

Eduard honestly, truly, genuinely, had no idea what to say to that. But he knew he hated Australians. Especially if they happened to be tourists.

“What’s with the... “ Logan gestured vaguely at him.

“Air of crushing defeat? It’s the crushing defeat.”

“Nah, the… clothes. Big coat thing.”

“Oh. It’s my choir’s uniform for the music contest.”

He gasped. “You’re one of the singing boys!”

“Mm. We lost.”

“Still performed though, ey? Did your funky funky tunes.”

“We were beaten by children,” he scoffed.

“How old?”

Eduard shrugged. “Small, I guess. I don’t know baby ages. More than 3 but less than 16.”

“Bit of a range there.”

“Yeah, but the point is, our choir sucks.”

“You performed in the… the big thing, though!”

Eduard shrugged. “Still lost.”

“What place did you even get?”

“Second.”

“ Second ? That’s fucking amazing!”

“We were supposed to win.”

“You must be pretty fuckin’ good anyway. Or- or you wouldn’t be in second. Maybe you’re just not cute enough.”

“This is a choir festival, not a cuteness contest.”

“Yeah, or you’d’ve won.” He winked.

“I should have.”

“But you are... “ He paused for a long moment, then patted his face. “You are cute enough to win everything.”

“Can I help you?” he asked, bordering on the border of passive aggression.

“Just wanted to make friends! You look all... Lots of drinks and one guy-y.”

“I am one guy.”

“Well maybe we can be two guys.” Logan winked with both eyes. “And even more drinks.”

“You don’t want to get drinks with me. I’m a has-been. I’ve peaked.”

“You’ve come in higher than second before? Like… gotten all win-y?”

“Does it matter now that I’m nothing?”

“Hey.”

Eduard looked up from his drink. Logan was uncomfortably close to his face.

“I think you’re a lot of things.”

“Like what? Nothing. That’s what.”

“I think you’re cute, and talented. And a little sad.”

“A little?” asked Maarja.

“Yeah, I’m very sad, all the time.” Eduard bit his tongue to stop him oversharing. He hated oversharing, and getting emotional, but it happened sometimes. Usually at the worst moment, like 10am at the Rimi he’d wandered into for potato salad and painkillers to cure his hangover.

“You’re too pretty to be sad,” Logan stroked behind his ear and gently dislodged the arm of his glasses. Eduard wanted to sob from the human touch, and may have leaned into it. “You deserve to be happy.”

“Thanks, I’m cured,” he said flatly, fixing his glasses.

“Can you sing for me, sing-y boy?”

“Why not just listen to a tumble dryer full of cats, it can’t be that different.”

“You came in second!”

“I’ll ne- never sing again, ever.”

“So you’re not performing next year?”

“Well, our choir is, every year, and I’m in our choir, and I’m not missing it, but I’m still never singing again.”

“Ah, I’ll get that song out of you! I bet you sing good.”

“No.”

“You sing good. Like a good singy boy. You make songs.”

“You haven’t heard me.”

“Well, your talky voice is nice as well. Pretty. Such a pretty accent. Like your pretty face.”

“My singing voice is clearly my downfall.”

“Aw, singy man! Don’t be sad! You’re the singy man!”

“I was. I can’t call myself that anymore.”

“Well, I don’t know your actual name, sooo… singy man.”

“Eduard.”

“Logan. What y’doing after this, Eduard?”

“I’ll probably drink more, and then go home, and then drink even more, and then eat some potato salad.”

“Sounds hot. Mind if I tag along?”

“Do you have anywhere else to be?”

His face fell as he remembered. “Aw, shit. My friends. I’m here with them, but they were making me put clothes on and stuff so I kinda… went my own way. Guess you could say I’m a wild card. A real rebel, you know? Can’t be tamed.” He winked again, with both eyes.

“Are you staying together? Just reconvene.”

“Oh, yeah. Reeky… that. We’re staying in a place. Big pink building. Orangey roof.”

“We’re in Old Town. That doesn’t narrow things down.”

“Well, I’ll un-narrow your butthole.”

Eduard sighed. “You’re lost, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. I don’t know where they are.”

He scratched the back of his head casually. “I guess I’ll help you out, if you want.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, might was well. I can’t leave you out here, can I?”

“No, I’ll end up fucking something.”

“Up?”

“Maybe. Either way, nudity happens. That’s the point, yeah?”

“The point of what ?”

“Dunno. All of it?”

“Very philosophical of you.”

“You’re full of sofical.”

“You’re full of alcohol.”

Logan nodded. “Yes. So are you.”

“So I am.” He took his hat back and stood up. “Come on, Australian. Let’s get you home.”

Logan made a weird, probably happy, face. “Wow, you’re in such a rush to get me home.”

“The sooner you’re away from people the better.”

“How can you say that, mate? I’m a gift.”

“Do you have a receipt?”

“You’re cranky when you lose.”

Eduard glowered at him.

“Come on, walk me home, and I’ll cheer you up.” He spanked Eduard’s ass and stumbled out of the pub. Maarja gave Eduard a look as he shuffled out after him.

The summer air was as cool as his father’s heart after Eduard came home with a bad test result that one time. Logan struggled on the cobblestones, looking around at everyone in wonder. There were a few locals about, but it was mostly drunk tourists. People sat outside restaurants and pubs, and groups of friends walked past them.

Logan took Eduard’s hand and set off in a random direction. Eduard immediately began sweating up a storm at the touch. People didn’t touch him, and he didn’t hold hands in public. He squirmed at the stares, but Logan was so big and tough and no one would mess with him. He was warm, too.

Eduard told him all about the Old Town, about the different buildings and the history of Tallinn, and when Logan started to panic over the lack of familiar buildings, Eduard sang to him softly. Logan seemed to appreciate it, even if it didn’t help his overall mood.

The two of them stood in the square as Logan ran his fingers through his hair, exhaling sharply.

“Maybe I’ll remember when I’m sober, but right now, my brain’s completely fried.”

“Have your friends replied yet?”

Logan checked his phone. “No. Nothing. Dickheads.”

Eduard sighed. “Look, you can stay at my place, if you like. I can get you a blanket and you can sleep on the sofa.”

“Sounds cold,” Logan whined, rubbing the back of Eduard’s hand with a thumb.

“Okay, you have the bed and I sleep on the sofa.”

“I mean…” Logan glanced at him, “if there’s only one bed… we could always… share it.”

Eduard’s heart stopped for a moment. He’d never shared a bed with anyone, romantically or platonically. He couldn’t even imagine what that would feel like to lie next to another person. Cuddle them. Maybe even kiss them. Feel warmth and affection for once in his life.

“That’s ridiculous,” he spluttered, “unless you’re serious.” He hoped Logan was.

Logan squeezed his hand. “Very serious.”

Eduard felt things tingle in his spine. “Well, it’s- it’s not far. Just around the corner.” He reached a hand in his pocket to begin fumbling for his keys; he wasn’t letting Logan go. It had been a while since he’d had another person stay over, and he was terrified Logan would change his mind.

Logan only seemed to have one thing on his mind, when they got to Eduard’s front door and he wrapped his arms around his waist from behind, chin resting on Eduard’s shoulder. Something poked at his butt.

This was the closest he’d come to doing a sex in his entire life.

He lead Logan across the hallway and upstairs, shushing him every time he tried to talk in that booming, accented voice he could barely understand. He was convinced that someone would come out to tell them off any second now. He unlocked the door to his flat and pushed Logan inside.

When he opened the door, an overly-pampered Pomeranian started barking at him, annoyed at being left alone for most of the day.

“A baby!”

Logan dashed over to the doggy and started stroking her face, making kissy noises and speaking in gibberish. Siiri looked utterly terrified at the intruder, glancing at Eduard for help. Logan picked her up and let her lick his face, before kissing every inch of hers.

“Oh, you’re baby! A baby baby! Beautiful baby baby! I love you!”

“Siiri.”

“Like the… phone?”

“No. But also yes.”

“I love her so much, I’m going to steal her.”

“Don’t!”

“Okay, okay. But I love her. She’s the best, aren’t you Siiri-wiiri,” he smushed her face and rubbed her belly.

Eduard just shook his head. “So, you’ve been immersing yourself in Estonian culture?” asked Eduard, hanging up his coat neatly.

“You could say that,” Logan replied, kicking off his crocs. “Or, at least, immersing my di-”

“Yes, thank you.”

“In Estonians.”

“Alright! Tried any Estonian food?”

“Pu-”

“No!”

“Di-”

“No!”

“But yeah, been eating weird Estonian food.”

“Estonian food isn’t weird.”

“It is, but I kinda like it. Good potatoes, and meats. Lots of meats.”

Eduard decided to pretend he didn’t pick up on the innuendo. “Have you tried kohuke?”

“Like when a bunch of guys nut on someone’s face?”

“That’s bukkake. I mean no, shush. I don’t know what bukkake is. Kohuke is the best and you need to try it.”

“I will! I’ll make a note of that.” After several attempts to unlock his phone, Logan finally opened up his notes and Eduard saw him type “eat cookei”. He decided to move on.

“And the sauna?”

“Never got to one.”

“Your flat doesn’t have a sauna?”

“Yours does? Doos? Doe? Your doe? Anyway, you have a sauna?”

“Of course. What kind of Estonian would I be without one? Would you like to try it?”

“I don’t have my swimming trunks.”

This man got his dick out in public, but wanted to wear swimming trunks in the sauna? Westerners baffled Eduard.

“You go in the sauna naked.”

“Really? Well, I wouldn’t want to disrespect the local culture.” He took off his shirt.

“Yeah, it’s not a weird thing for us. You have public saunas, and families sauna together.”

“So you’ve seen your dad’s dick? Your mum’s snatch?” Logan cackled.

“It’s a normal thing.”

“So Estonians see all the dicks they want, then.”

“Do you want to go in or not?”

“Nah, I will, if you go in with me.”

“Of course.”

“Can I pee in it?”

“Absolutely not.”

“So it’s not like a shower, then?”

Eduard didn’t dignify that with a response, and wandered into the bathroom to get the sauna running. Nice and boiling hot, just how he liked it. The tourist wouldn’t be able to stand it; there was no way he’d be strong enough. If he was still conscious by the time he got out it was too cold.

Logan followed him, taking off his jorts and boxers, and Eduard realised he’d made a terrible mistake.

This man’s penis was at least 6 inches longer than his own.

It looked like a kohuke, actually. But bigger and veinier and rounder. And covered in hair. And Eduard couldn’t take his eyes off it. He wanted it in him like serotonin. Was there any polite way of asking this man to fuck him? He looked like he’d be up for fucking anything.

“I knew you Europeans were all perverts!” Logan covered his junk, and Eduard blushed. “Am I just a piece of meat to you? A hot, foreign piece of quality Australian meat to object-iffy?”

“Sorry, I- sorry. I just… I’ll get naked too, so it’s less weird.” It would probably make things even weirder, and he was a little self-conscious about the 3-inch punisher, but the alternative was having a naked man trapped in his flat and that was just dodgy.

It was weird, being attracted to men with big dicks. It was hot, definitely, and the thought that it might rupture his internal organs and kill him was a nice bonus - not in a freaky way, just in a sad one - but he was as insecure as he was horny. What if they were judging him? What if Logan went back to his friends to laugh at him?

He also got nervous about taking it, but that never stopped him. Hypothetically.

At least it wasn’t cold in the bathroom, he decided as he took off his trousers. That might give him an extra centimetre.

The two of them sat down. He tried to look at his face and make conversation, but the only thought his brain could come up with was along the lines of “it’s three times your size, six inches bigger, a whole three times the size of your dick, it might even be seven inches bigger, maths isn’t happening right now, you could line three of your dicks up and it would be approximately the size of his, please, for the love of god, do not get a boner”.

Too late.

Logan looked at it. Eduard pointedly looked at the glass. He wanted to evaporate into the steam. There was a long period of silence. And then Logan let out a fart: fat, long, and moist. He shut his eyes and smiled, relishing in it for its 10-second entirety.

“That was a good one.”

Eduard was too busy trying not to gag to reply. The smell was fucking rancid, like a skunk had crawled up his arse and died like a week ago. And in the sauna, it was ten times worse.

Logan got himself up and checked the seat. “Just… don’t want to have shat myself. I mean, I can usually tell when I’ve shit, because I start screaming, but it doesn’t hurt to check. We good? Yeah, we’re good. Shit-free this time.”

“Great.” Well, Eduard no longer had a boner.

“Smells fucking ripe though. Take a whiff of that!”

Eduard was trying very hard not to.

“She’s a wet one!”

“Indeed.”

Logan poured water onto the coals. “You ever fuck in these?” he asked. Eduard wasn’t sure whether or not this was an improvement.

“No. That’s disgusting. We’re shedding dead skin; the last thing this water vapor needs is syphilis.” No one fucked in his bed either, but that was beside the point.

“I don’t have siff… that. Anymore. I don’t think.”

Eduard had the disgusting thought that Logan’s dick was that size due to being stuffed full of STDs like a poorly-made teddy bear, or the desired state of his butthole, then he realised that was the kind of anatomical thinking from a guy that didn’t get laid, and hated his surgeon dad enough to refuse to learn about biology.

“Would you even wanna try fucking in this?”

“No, never. The sauna is sacred. I have a bed, though.” He didn’t know if it was the drink or his dick that said that last bit.

“We’re fucking in that, then?”

“Y-yeah,” he squeaked. Was it really that easy? He looked at Logan’s penis and his butthole quivered in anticipation.

Logan took his hand, and squeezed it reassuringly before kissing him, tenderly and lovingly. Just like how Eduard had imagined Harrison Ford doing to him as a teen. Eduard tried not to immediately start crying.

“Thanks.”

“Are you okay?”

“Can you kiss me again, maybe, please, if it’s no trouble?”

Logan laughed at him and kissed him again. He was so warm. He wrapped his arms around Eduard in the hug his parents never gave him. Then again, if Eduard’s parents had given him naked hugs he’d be a different kind of messed up.

“Bed?”

Eduard nodded. “Yeah, it’s in my room.”

They got out of the sauna. Eduard didn’t bother to get dressed, but Logan went out of his way to put his socks back on. Then his crocs and fanny pack, which had “the best almends in tawn” scrawled in tipex, upside down too. Implying Logan didn’t take it off to write that. He knew the reference: the almond cart a few streets down. They were some good-ass almonds, but were now ruined.

“My nips are cold,” he whined. “They need warming. With your mouth-hole.”

Eduard had no idea how to respond, so put his mouth on one of Logan’s nipple’s like a fish, and just kept it there.

“Fucking hell, you never sucked a titty before?”

“I have! Several!” He’d sucked no titties in his life. His mother never even bothered breastfeeding him. He tried to suck Logan’s.

“I think maybe we should just get to the butt-peeing.”

“The what ?”

“I’m just kidding, haha, unless you’re down?”

“No!”

“Okay, just kidding.”

Eduard realised he was going to have to suck this guy’s dick. This monster schlong had to somehow fit in his mouth. And it might have pee on it.

He also realised that this meant someone liked him enough to let him do that, so he let the thought go.

Logan picked him up tenderly, and Eduard curled up against his warm chest like one of those hairless raw chicken cats. Logan kissed the top of his head, and he squeezed his eyes shut to hold back a tear of loneliness.

"So, mate, where's your bedroom?"

"Second door on the left."

Logan carried him into the bedroom and gently set him down on the bed.

“Now, I know you’ve probably heard your first time is supposed to hurt, but it won’t if we prepare properly.” He kissed his forehead.

“This isn’t my first time! I fuck frequently!”

“Okay, I believe you. Still gonna take it easy on you.”

“Please dick me to death.”

“Still sad about the song contest thing, yeah?” He stroked his hair.

“I have clinical depression.”

“Want me to choke you?”

“ I have clinical depression . And daddy issues.”

“So, yes?”

“ Please .”

“I got something else you can choke on. Unless you can unhinge your jaw like a snake. That would be hot.”

“I can’t. I can devour almost a whole bottle of vodka in one go though, so… close enough?”

“So I just have to nut a vodka bottle’s worth? I can do that.”

“I mean. You don’t have to.”

“No, I’m gonna.”

“Look, I’ll try if you nut like a human being and not a fire hose.” Eduard took this incredible, magnificent penis in his hands - both, because it was thick - and gave it a lick. It was warm, and rubbery. He liked the warmth of another human being.

“C’mon,” Logan groaned, “Your dog licks better.”

“Fuck her then. No wait, don’t!” Eduard looked at the purple baton. “I’m just… out of practice. I’ll get the hang of it.”

“How out of practice?”

“Do I look like I’ve been counting the years?”

“Yes. You wear glasses. Surely it would only be one hand’s worth anyway.”

“No. And I can’t count on the other one, I’m using it for other things.”

“Jacking off til you pass out? Whilst crying?”

“Shush.”

“Take that as a yes.”

“Also drinking. But… not far off.”

“You gonna suck this dick or what?”

Eduard’s distaste for being bossed about flared up, and he wrinkled his nose. “Suck your own dic- I mean yeah.”

“We can stop if you want.”

“Fuck no.” Eduard swallowed the dick like he frequently swallowed his pride. He slowly put the whole thing in his mouth; that’s what you were supposed to do, right? It’s what the beautiful women on pornhub did. Was he supposed to fit the balls in too? Logan’s were fucking massive, so he hoped not, but maybe he should, just to be on the safe side.

“Christ, mate, let yourself breathe!”

He pulled off of him. “I’m good.”

“You’re gonna do yourself some damage.”

“You’re flattering yourself.”

“You seen this thing? I’ve earned it.”

“And I’ll suck the soul outta you.”

“So did your dad leave or just not love you?”

“I’ll bite your dick.”

“Hot.”

“How do I threaten you without you being horny about it?”

“You can’t.”

Eduard sighed and sucked his dick like it was the titty his mother denied him. Every time he made a choking sound, Logan groaned, but Ed had no gag reflex so all was well. Sometimes, he sounded like he was coughing up a hairball, but it was endearing in a way. Logan stroked his hair, and Eduard closed his eyes at the touch like a loving, affectionate cat. He tried to meet his eyes, but it felt weird so he stuck to staring at his bellybutton.

Eventually, Logan pulled his head back. “Okay, I think it’s your turn.”

“I can carry on if you want.”

He just chuckled. “Get up.”

Eduard awkwardly arranged himself on the bed, his legs a little apart. “Like this?”

“Yeah,” Logan rested his cheek on Eduard’s knee, giving him a caring smile before going down.

Eduard’s soul left his fucking body at the feeling of having his dick sucked. Logan wasn’t shy, looking him right in the eyes as he milked his little yoghurt machine. He’d clearly had practice, licking it like it was ice cream and sucking like a vacuum cleaner. If Eduard hadn’t already blown at least 40 loads into his hand during the week, he might have nutted right then and there.

He heard the clattering of claws, and a series of barks.

Logan had forgotten to close the door.

“Siiri!” cried Ed, “get out! Bad dog! Go to bed!”

Logan stopped sucking his dick, and it flopped onto Eduard’s stomach with a wet pop. Logan’s spit quickly cooled, and he didn’t like the feeling.

“Aww, let her stay.” Logan reached over and lifted her onto the bed. He fussed over the little dog, with the stupid, high-pitched voice and rubbing her belly.

“We can’t let her stay in my room! We’re doing sex!” He covered himself self-consciously, as if Siiri was judging.

“So? My dog watches me.”

“That’s just weird.” Eduard got to his feet, picked up Siiri, and bowled her gently out the door. “No watching, and go to sleep.”

Siiri barked at him.

“Yeah, yip to you too.” He shut the door and sat back down on the bed. “I think I have a condom.” He reached for his wallet; there was a condom he kept there, for miracles. It was probably older than Siiri, but its day had finally come.

The moment he took it out, it disintegrated in his hand. Miracles were hard to come by.

“That’s okay,” Logan kissed his neck, “bareback’s better.”

Eduard was going to get every STD known to man, and a few undiscovered ones too, but, at that moment, he was too horny to care. “Alright, how- how do you want me to do this?”

“Maybe…” Logan thought about it, “we start with missionary. Then we can gayly gaze into each other’s eyes.”

“A gay’s gaze.”

“Yes! Then after, maybe doggy cause then it’s like we’re mating.”

“We’re sticking to missionary.”

“Aww, you like these eyes?”

“I like not being compared to animals.” He did have nice eyes though.

Logan tenderly placed a hand to his chest and pushed him back on the bed. He held Eduard’s hand, and leaned in for a kiss. Eduard couldn’t remember the last time he’d had his hand held.

“Thank you.” His voice cracked.

Logan blinked. Was that the wrong thing to say? He didn’t comment on it, though, and focused on kissing Eduard’s neck.

“Ya got any lube?”

“I have lotion. Will that work.”

“Of course you d- yeah that works.”

Eduard reached into the bedside table for his bottle of lotion.

“This is nice stuff, for jacking-off lotion.”

“I like how vanilla smells.”

“It does smell nice,” he agreed, sniffing the bottle.

“Use some if you want.”

Logan rubbed it between his hands. “Nice. This why you so smooth?”

“Mm.”

“Like a shark.”

“Please don’t fuck a shark.”

“I won’t. Not until I’m done with you.” He spread Eduard’s legs as he spread lotion over his fingers. Eduard shuddered as Logan circled his butthole with a finger before slipping it in.

Eduard swore, but in Estonian so Logan wouldn’t know. It felt like taking a shit, but in a sexy way.

“You know sharks have two dicks?” said Logan for conversation.

“A weird thing to say when you’re fingering me.” Eduard gave a groan, and then a rattling breath as Logan added another finger. “Could you slow down, please?” he whimpered. Logan nodded and took out his second finger.

“Sure thing, mate. It’s okay.” He massaged Eduard’s shoulder as he fingered him with one finger.

“Your hands are so big,” he whined. “It feels like I’m getting a rectal exam from Jason Momoa.”

“Shit, mate, I ain’t even put me dick in yet.”

“Yeah, gonna need you to prepare me a lot more.” Eduard was having a good time, but his butthole had been so empty lately it was tighter than a nipple clamp and gathering dust.

Logan fingered him like a bowling ball, slowly opening up his tight bootyhole in a way his dad never did when he was little. A wee fucking ghost that had been forgotten there just came out of the butt, yelled “WOOOO” and flew out the window. Okay, Logan made that last part up, but his shitter was dusty af.

He lubed that asshole up like a slip n’ slide. He fingered it until it looked like a canyon in the middle of a very flat plain. When Logan spanked Ed’s cheek, it sounded hollow.

Even though Eduard had a normally deep voice, it went all high and bottom-y as he moaned from the spank. Logan raised an eyebrow.

“Shit, think ya ready?”

“I- yeah. Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Logan put his fanny batter splatterer into Eduard’s red dwarf and Eduard’s mind hit reset. It was bigger than any shit he’d ever taken, but still moved against his rectum like one. Logan put his dick halfway in, then paused.

“You okay,” he clutched Eduard’s sweaty hand.

He nodded.

“Are you crying?”

“What? No. Don’t let go of my hand though.”

Logan nodded, then stuck his wingwang in down to the balls. The balls weren’t meant to go in too, right? Eduard was sure it was about to come out of his mouth it was so big. He felt like a kebab.

He moaned from the dick and cried from the handholding, but this was the best he’d felt in months. He never wanted it to end. But knowing how long he lasted, it would all too soon. He mentally congratulated himself for lasting this long. He had been expecting to nut in the sauna, the second he undressed. Logan went slowly at first, letting him get used to the feeling, but when Eduard gave the word, he picked up the pace, hips and nuts slapping against Eduard’s arse and making the noise of someone slapping a raw chicken with a raw fish. He wondered if he’d get salmonella from Logan’s dick along with the 30 or so STDs he’d have after this. It also sounded a bit like using a toilet plunger on a turd-blocked shitter. Eduard now wished he’d hurry up and orgasm so maybe his brain would turn off for a second and he’d stop thinking stupid shit.

“You like that? You like my chunky thundermeat?”

Eduard wished he could say he didn’t. But he did. His butthole wouldn’t later, but for now he was groaning like that time he discovered autoerotic asphyxiation. And egg-mayo sandwiches.

Logan went harder. Not insanely hard, just enough to have Eduard moaning and whimpering and begging for more. His soul felt like when you hold the start button on a computer instead of shutting it down manually because it was broken. His soul was healing, becoming reanimated. Or maybe he was just really, really horny and touch-starved.

“Big,” he mumbled, trying to get words out of his mouth semi-coherently.

“Yeah? You like the big meat, then?”

“It’s lovely. Thank you.”

“No… no problem.” Logan kissed him to shut him up. Then choked him and Ed came like Jesus. Shortly after, Logan bust a chunky nut in Eduard’s bootyhole. He moaned at the moisture in his colon, and at the cold rush on his back as Logan pulled out and collapsed next to him. He arranged his duvet so that the cold air could hit his aching hole as he held onto him. Logan cuddled him gently, wrapping the rest of the duvet around them.

“Was that good? Did I do good? Tell me I did a good sex.”

“You did a great sex.” He kissed his forehead. “I’m proud of you.”

Eduard was definitely crying now. No one had ever been proud of him before. Maybe it was the alcohol, and being in the arms of a naked man, but he felt exposed. Vulnerable. Like he was about to start oversharing at any minute.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, “I want you to stay with me forever.” Well, at least he wasn’t talking about his childhood.

“I have to go in the morning, I’m afraid,” Logan mumbled, “but I’ll be back. And we have tonight.”

Eduard nodded. “Yes. Please hold me tonight.”

Logan kissed his temple, lips warm against cold sweat. “I will, baby.”

...

The sun filtered through the curtains the next morning, hurting Eduard’s eyes through his eyelids, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret drinking. He woke up in Logan’s arms, held tenderly to his chest in a way his touch-starved self had only fantasized about before.

So this was what affection felt like. He wanted more.

For the first time in his life, Eduard didn’t feel like getting up right away. He let a sleeping Logan hold him. He was so lovely and warm, like a sauna, he didn’t want him to go.

When Logan woke up, he didn’t seem to be in a rush either. He opened his eyes halfway, smiled at him, and let out a long fart. Lovely.

“Sleep well?”

Eduard nodded.

“Sorry,” Logan eventually prized himself away, “I’ll be back to spoon, but is it alright if I just give my dick a quick wash? Gotta keep it clean. Do it after every root, just to keep the infections at bay.”

Eduard nodded weakly, and Logan disappeared.

What the fuck kind of moron just nutted in him? The kind that thought tap water got rid of gonorrhoea? He’d have to be tested for everything now. And disinfect the sauna. Or just burn and rebuild it. Kill their airborne herpes, and the probable skidmarks on the wooden bench. Eduard couldn’t believe his beloved sauna now resembled some disgusting Polish sauna.

Not to mention he'd have to bulldoze the sink, shower and anything else his penis had touched. Then the toilet, judging by the distant screaming.

Logan came back, drying his cock with toilet paper. “Sorry bout that. Found out the hard - heh - way that you’re not allowed to use an airport sink to clean your junk.” He climbed back into bed and cuddled up to Eduard. The guy was so lucky he was warm and nice and had a massive dick. Eduard wouldn't have minded a round two. It wasn’t like he could get infected twice. “I’m not allowed into so many airports.”

“What time do you have to leave?” he asked, deciding he didn’t have time to unpack all of that, no matter when he had to leave.

“Not til this evening, baby,” Logan kissed the back of his neck.

“Great, we can do like a hundred sex.”

“You want me to pee in your butt all day or what?”

“Maybe do something else.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, literally anything else.”

“I mean… I could shit in your butt.”

“Please just have sex with me and don’t talk for the entire time.”

“I can do that. And after that maybe I should get home and get packed. I’m meant to leave.”

“Do you know how to get home?”

“Toldja last night. Pink house. Orange roof.”

“Do you have an address?”

“Maybe. We’ll see.”

“Feel like you should know the address of your own airbnb.”

“What are you, my dad?”

“I hope not. You wrecked my butthole last night.”

“And I’ll wreck it again today if ya want.”

“I do, we already established that.”

Logan climbed back into bed and kissed him, scrambling for the lotion. He lubed Eduard up then clapped those cheeks like white people when the plane lands. Eduard lay on his stomach, too lazy to do anything else, just enjoying this guy’s fat nuts hitting him like a wrecking ball as his ass got drilled for the second time.

He knew his neighbours could hear him - he could always hear them - but he didn’t care. Revenge time. He moaned like a hungry cat as Logan choked and kissed him, stroking his hair. Even when he was being rough, he was gentle with him. Caring. Tender. His hand was tight on his throat but his lips were gentle.

Eduard moaned as Logan ate his ass like a rack of ribs, then put the dick back in and put him in a load of different positions whilst Eduard tried not to fart. Or nut early. When he did nut, Logan wasn’t far behind. He collapsed next to him, pulling Eduard into a hug and kissing his cheek lazily. He was so warm.

“You’re pretty,” he mumbled, “you got nice eyes.”

Eduard blushed. “So do you. I’m not sure I have, though, I mean, my glasses sorta get in the way-”

Logan took them off, then stroked his fringe back. “Beautiful.”

“Blind.”

He smiled and handed his glasses back, after wiping droplets of nut off them. “Wow, you’re an amazing sniper.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

“One time I sniped a spider on the ceiling with my nut. Proudest moment. Glad I’d had a wank instead of bothering with kids.”

Eduard nodded, because he had no idea what to say to that. He didn’t want to leave Logan’s arms, but he needed to get up. But then the spell would be broken, and reality would set in and Logan would be gone.

“I need to shower,” he mumbled, making no attempt to move. Logan caught on.

“We can shower together.”

“But then we’ll see each other naked.”

“Ed, baby, we’ve already seen each other naked. We’re naked now.”

Eduard gasped. “Then maybe we can walk around naked and shower naked together!”

“And have a goodbye fuck in the shower. Nice and warm.”

Eduard nodded. “Nice and warm.”

...

Logan’s violet vuvuzela looked like it had been microwaved after it’s third nut in 24 hours, and Eduard’s hole looked like the Darvaza gas crater in Turkmenistan. He could barely stand up, his legs were shaking from his latest orgasm. He clung to Logan, who kissed his neck lazily. The shower still rained down on them, warming Eduard’s shoulders. Logan’s now sported tiny bruises where Eduard had clutched them, and scratches all down his back.

“I’m gonna fucking miss you,” Logan growled in his ear, huskily like Balto, “and I’m gonna miss fucking you.”

“Me too,” Eduard buried his face in his chest, trying not to cry again. He’d done his crying for the year now. “Come on, we gotta find out where you live.”

“Oh, Fabs texted me while I was on the shitter earlier,” said Logan, “they’ve got all my stuff packed and I can meet ‘em at the airport. Means we have a few hours before we gotta go there. We can do anything you want.” He played with Eduard’s nipples.

“I think we’ve been cooped up in here long enough, also my hole needs a rest. I’ll show you round the city, now you’ve sobered up.”

Logan thought about it, then nodded. “I’d like that. Be nice to go home having actually learnt something. Other than Estonians hate it when I try and talk Estonian.”

“It’s the accent. It butchers all languages.”

“To be honest, people don’t like it when I speak English either. Or any language.”

“Maybe it’s what you say, rather than how you pronounce it.”

“So are you gonna take me sightseeing or what?”

...

Eduard didn’t want him to go. He wanted Logan to stay and hold and raw him forever, but, instead, he pulled away like he didn’t pull out and left to go through security with a wave, leaving Eduard, heartbroken in the middle of the airport.

Their day together had been magical, even if everything Logan said out loud was horrendous. Sometimes, he’d even managed to make Eduard laugh. Sometimes.

But he’d asked questions, about both Eduard and Estonia, and Eduard appreciated that. He also giggled at any Estonian word that sounded vaguely rude (depoo? Really?), but Eduard could look past that. Most importantly, he’d had fun with another human being for the first time in forever.

But Logan was gone, without so much as a number.

Eduard could look him up, stalk him on every social media, but he’d be too afraid to follow him. Besides, this weekend hadn’t meant anything to Logan. He’d move on. He’d probably sleep with half the plane before it made it back to Australia. Eduard was nothing to him.

So he might as well move on.

...

The sounds of laughter filled the bar. The whole of the choir sat around a table, struggling to find empty places to put their beers down among the sea of empty pint glasses. Eduard sat with them, sipping his beer, listening politely to the conversation but not contributing a word.

One of their sopranos stood up from her seat, holding up her glass. “Congratulations to all of us! We worked really hard, and if any of the choirs performing tonight earned it, I think it was us. Who wants another round?”

Eduard cheered with the rest of them. He had won! Well. Him and the rest of them. But he’d had a solo, so technically him.

To think this time last year, he’d been at this very bar, - alone because everyone found him unbearable - drinking away his sorrows, and now he was with his whole choir, celebrating their latest win. He still thought about that night every now and then.

He took a moment out from the festivities as the choir launched into a drunken reprise of their songs to use the toilets. As nice as they were, it was nice to celebrate in his head, silently, to relish in his victory without screaming it from the rooftops. He replayed that moment, the cheers of the crowd as they were announced the winners, the nearest singer tackling him into a hug with excitement.

And then someone took the urinal next to him, rolling his jorts down to his ankles. He glanced aside bitterly, but-

Oh, shit. He’d know that meat hammer anywhere.

He almost pissed all over him tripping over his own feet, but he composed himself, zipped his jeans back up, and turned to look at him.

“Logan?”

He grinned back at him, not ceasing his piss. It was like a water cannon. “Long time, no see.”

Eduard gazed at him, not sure what he was meant to say. “Very.”

“Small world.”

“Mhmm.”

“Kidding. I was actually hoping I’d bump into you.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“I mean… why are you here, not,, that sounded self-pitying.”

He leaned on the wall seductively, still peeing. “Well, you know, I read somewhere there’s this legendary song festival going on. Thought I’d check it out.”

Eduard grinned. “Oh, yeah. Heard that’s good.”

“And there was this guy on one of the choirs who had… well, in my opinion, at least, the guy had the voice of an angel. He looked kinda familiar, too. Couldn’t quite place him.” Logan flicked twice for Jesus and put his dick back in his pants.

“How did he do in the competition?”

Logan tilted his head at him, glancing between Eduard’s eyes and lips. “I think his choir won, actually. They’re in some bar now, belting out folk songs.”

Eduard laughed. “Yeah, they were good, weren’t they?”

“They were amazing.”

“Did you… come all the way to Estonia to see me perform?”

Logan scratched the back of his head. “Well, it’s a nice country. I sort of saw all the sights in one morning last time I was here, and… well. I guess the men here really are something.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Maybe.”

“You think I’m a good singer?”

“You won, didn’t you?”

“I guess we did.”

“Actually, there’s another reason I went to Estonia.”

“Mm?”

“Well, there was this really nice little sauna. Really relaxing. I used it on my last night there. Really sweated me out good. I was wondering if I could have another go in it. Just for a bit?”

“You inviting yourself over?”

“Uh-”

“Into my sauna , no less? You realise that’s like… Estonian equivalent of asking if you can rob someone’s house?”

“Sorry.”

Eduard laughed at him. “I’m kidding. Come on, let’s get home.”

#ozest #APH Australia #APH Estonia #hetalia #Hetalia fic #APH Seychelles #APH New Zealand #aph cameroon #tikolanesla #this is the stupidest thing written #oneshot #hetalia estonia #hetalia australia #aph #Hetalia Fanfiction

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zipp0flare · 4 years

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Infection part 1

(So, this is an old relic piece back from when I first started playing Left 4 Dead. I loved the character and infected designs so much back then (still do, tbh) that I actually made several characters, whom I still love to this day. I only have stories for two of them, back from my deviantArt days, which is why this may look familiar. Anywho, this is the origin story for my Hunter, Luke (based off a GaiaOnline avatar I made one day, which is why the design choice is kinda funky.))

The rave that was so often filled to the brim with people on Saturday nights was close to being empty, mainly only filled with the loyal regulars that spent their free nights dancing amongst the music and flashing lights. A young male made his way to a small group of men gathered around the bar, some of which gave him surprised greetings.

"Whoa, Luke! Didn't think we'd see you here!" A man with a large, orange dyed mohawk called as he motioned the other male over. 'Luke' merely scoffed and sat down next to the man, as well a second man, wearing a ridiculous, tie dyed ski cap. "You know you look like a moron with that on, right Mal?" Luke asked, to which he received a punch in the arm from 'Mal'.

"You don't look any better. What's with the goggles, and the hood? Hell, what are you doing here in the first place?" Luke gave Mal a scowl, which only grew when the first man piped up; "Yeah, he's right. I mean, you have heard about the Green Flu going around, right?"

Luke leveled a glare at the man. "I could ask you the same question. I could ask everyone here the same question. I came here because I had planned to ever since Tuesday. But it looks like the hype about this flu has caused everyone to run for home with their tail between their legs."

Luke coughed into his arm, causing his two companions to inch back a little farther. "Damn, did you come here with it? What the fuck were you thinking?!"

"Vince, I don't have the flu, my throat's just been sore. You can calm down." Mal and Vince still looked leery. "I think you should go back home. You don't know if you're not infected, and none of us want to come down with the thing. I mean, I've heard some people are dying from it." Vince actually sounded somewhat worried, though it was hard to tell if the worry was for his friend, or for himself.

"That's just the media making this whole thing look worse than it did. Remember their last, so-called 'epidemic'?" Mal choked back a laugh. "Yeah, you boarded yourself up in your apartment for a week and a half. You thought the world was ending or something." Mal may have controlled his laughter, but Vince had begun to guffaw at the memory.

"And nothing happened, which made me look like a damn idiot."

"Yeah, you did look like a fool when you finally came out of your 'house of safety' with the fire axe you practically stole from your apartment building."

"Exactly. So, just like nothing happened then, everything's just going to go over in a week or so, and everyone will soon forget about the Green Flu." Luke raised a hand into the air with three fingers up, and waved to the bartender, earning a nod as the woman behind the bar got to work.

"So... you're sure your not infected, right?" Vince asked cautiously. "Yes. I know I'm not infected. I haven't even been near someone who's sick. Though..." His face scrunched up in disgust, to which his two friend gave him odd looks. "You remember my weird ass neighbor? Who lives in the apartment to the right of mine?"

"You mean crazy old hag Meri-something?" Vince received a nod. "What the hell did she do this time? Start up a story about her toe jam again?" Mal had to keep from retching when he heard Vince, even though he hadn't been there for whatever this story was, unlike poor friends. "No, not another toe jam story. I went to get my mail this morning and saw her walking my direction. I've gotten to the point where I wait for her to start going through whatever crap she's received until I leave. I stood there for two minutes and she didn't start rummaging through her mail. Instead, the crazy bat reaches over and bites me in the arm!"

"The fuck?! I knew she was out of her mind, but biting people?"

"I have no idea what was going through her freaky mind, but it was hard enough to break the skin." Luke rubbed his bandaged arm, currently concealed under his black arm warmers. "What did you do?" Mal asked, knowing that the story couldn't have ended there.

"I immediately elbowed her in the stomach out of reflex. She whined like a dog and took off after that."

"She broke the skin? Did you disinfect and all that crap?" Luke nodded. "I pretty much bathed it in rubbing alcohol, which burned like hell I might add."

Mal and Vince still looked disgusted with the story, thankful that neither of them had a out-of-their-mind neighbor that went around biting people. "Maybe you should head back home." Vince piped up after a few moments of silence. "If she bit you and all, maybe she's infected?"

"I'm sure the cause of that is from being out of her mind. I'm fine." Luke stressed the word 'fine'. "So, you wanted to come here on a Saturday, mainly only because we always do. You also think that all of this is just the media hyping things up a bit. I still don't see you going out, risking getting sick. You're the one who's always against that kind of-"

"It's nothing!" Luke exclaimed, startling his two friends, along with other people that were close by. "It's... just your normal flu."

"Dude... what the hell has your panties in a bunch? You're never this worked up." There was only silence from Luke, who seemed to almost be refusing to answer Mal's question.

"Maddie's sick." Those two words were so quiet that Luke's friends almost didn't catch what Luke had said. Maddie, Madeline, was Luke's five-year-old sister; she meant the world to Luke. "Maddie's sick with it. And if I start freaking out about this whole thing, I"m basically telling myself that my little sister's going to die." He bit his lower lip. "So, all of this is just nothing, alright?"

"... Sorry, I.. I had no idea, man." Mal apologized. "How's she doing?"

"She's currently in quarentine with CEDA. Or, that's what I'm being told." Luke coughed into his arm again, a bit more harshly this time. "I'm not sick, you can drop it." Luke knew what his friends were thinking and his words shut them up before they could say anything.

The bartender came back with his drink, but Luke could tell that she was keeping her distance as well. "Damn, why the hell is everyone acting like this.." He growled. Luke was hardly ever this agitated but Mal and Vince took it as him simply being worked up about his younger sister.

There was silence amongst the friends once more (minus Luke's coughing every few minutes) none of them knowing what to say. The silence was broken by a loud swearing from Luke. "They need to turn down these fucking lights. My eyes are burning from them!" His friends cringed, not expecting Luke's outburst. "Uh... the lights are the same as they always are. You sure you're oka-"

"I'm fine! Dammit, I'm fine!" Luke held his injured arm close to him, his fingers digging into it. Vince simply held his hands in front of him as if to guard himself from Luke's verbal lashing.

Luke's coughing seemed to have quickly and steadily grown worse, and he was beginning to notice a slightly red stain decorating the inside of his arm. Maybe he was seeing things though, his eyesight seemed to steadily be growing worse, and it was hard to think of anything with the pounding headache that had suddenly overwhelmed him.

Luke could barely make out his friend's worried looks, only seeing their lips moving while no sound came from their mouths, but the music in the background seemed to only be getting louder and louder, the noise assaulting his eardrums and causing his headache to grow worse.

As his eyes began to slowly bleed was when he fell backward and off of his seat, his head making a sickening crack as it hit the floor. Luke could barely see now, barely think, barely even keep his eyes open. "Holy shit! Someone call an ambulance, or something!" Mal and Vince had only become more and more concerned for Luke, giving him questions and suggestions, both of which went unanswered. None of that, though, compared to the panic going through their systems when their friend suddenly fell off the seat, bleeding out of his eyes.

"C'mon, Luke! You've been through worse, stay with us!" Vince exclaimed with frustration, trying to make things not at bad as they seemed, as he crouched down next to his friend. The bartender had already called 911, though Vince and Mal were wondering if it would do any good now.

When Luke slowly started to come to, letting out groans and what sounded like low growling, the duo's hope skyrocketed. It came crashing down, though, when Luke suddenly rolled off of his back and onto his stomach, crouching and growling at his 'friends'.

"Whoa, calm down, buddy... everything's alright.. you're going to be okay.." Neither of them had anymore time to say anything before 'Luke' pounced and attacked them both.

When the ambulance finally arrived, along with several people in hazmat suits from CEDA, they found the rave a bloody, gruesome mess. Several bodies were scattered on the floor and against the bar's counter. All of them were viciously torn into. "We need to block this place off. Don't let anything come out or into here." One of the CEDA workers commanded. While several people rushed to various parts of the club, a lone ambulance worker looked out at the horrific scene and sighed. His eyes turned down to see a man at his feet, with a large, orange mohawk, who looked even more torn into than the rest of the bodies at the scene. He didn't seem to pay much mind to the smeared blood trail that led away from the body, simply assuming that it was caused by the thing that had caused all of this. "God, this sickness is horrid..."

#left 4 dead #l4d #l4d hunter #left 4 dead hunter #infected OC #Luke is lowkey me tbh #Oh i may be sick?#still gonna go to work lol #I’llbe fine!#I wasnt fine #neither was he #A Hunter and a Smoker Walk Into a Bar

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mrswhozeewhatsis · 5 years

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A Woman of Letters (Getting a Feel for Sam Winchester) - Chapter 4

Summary: You’ve just opened an occult bookstore in Lebanon, Kansas, when you fall for a tall, handsome customer…literally. You soon find out that there’s more to the world than you ever suspected, including you. Discovering your heritage puts you directly in a witch’s crosshairs, though, so the Winchesters offer to take you in and teach you how to protect yourself. As you discover your own family history with the supernatural and your own hidden talents, you can’t help but wish a certain brother was as excited about your interest as you are.

Total length: 43 chapters, 70,247 words - Read on AO3 - Series masterlist

Chapter word count: 1409 words

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Canon-level angst and violence

Sam

The next day, Sam dug through the Men of Letters membership records. The name on the store was Bowen, and before he got too excited about this woman, he wanted to be sure he was right. He started with the most recent records, those kept in 1958 before Abaddon wiped almost everyone out. As he skimmed the pages, he found what he was looking for.

January 15th, 1958 – Man of Letters Ted Bowen to take a 6-month sabbatical from the order due to the birth of his child, Peter. Will return to duties no later than July 1st, 1958. (Note: Younger brother and fellow legacy, Lloyd Bowen, will reach maturity 12/9/1958, and will begin training under his father, Albert Bowen, and his brother, Ted, in the new year.)

…

June 20th, 1958 – Man of Letters Albert Bowen deceased. Natural causes. (Note: Ted Bowen still scheduled to return to duty no later than July 1st.)

Sam dug around through his own files and found his notes on Abaddon’s attack, further confirming his theory. Ted Bowen was one of the men killed by Abaddon in August, 1958. Putting the files away, he headed back to the library and opened up his laptop. Loading the public records web site, he found that Peter Bowen was born January 14, 1958, married Paula Bowen in 1983, had a daughter, Y/N Bowen in 1985, and died in a car crash with his wife in 1998. Sam considered the woman in the shop, her gorgeous smile, her kind eyes, and her lilting voice. She would have been 13 when her parents died, and apparently her great uncle had taken her in. Sam imagined her uncle in 1958, losing both his father and his brother within a month, and wondered if Lloyd knew the circumstances around his brother’s death. Considering the sigils he had taught his niece, chances are that he did. Sam shook his head sadly.

Sam was jerked out of his thoughts by heavy footfalls coming down the hall. Dean appeared in the doorway to the library a moment later.

“Find anything, yet, about ‘The Darkness’ we unleashed?” Dean settled into a chair next to Sam, pushed a beer towards his brother, and put his feet up on the table. Sam tried not to look guilty. It had been a week since Dean had lost the Mark of Cain and “The Darkness” was unleashed, and absolutely nothing had happened. Columns of black smoke broke out of the ground, formed one giant cloud, washed over the land looking like a tornado on steroids, and then promptly dissipated. The worst damage anywhere was similar to a severe thunderstorm, and the supernatural world had been unusually quiet since then. No demonic signs, no freaky deaths, no weird missing persons reports. It was extremely unnerving, to say the least. After they found Cas and Crowley back at the warehouse, fixing Cas was the priority, but Crowley had been surprisingly helpful with that. Well, in exchange for not locking him up with Cas until the spell was broken. Since then, Sam and Dean both had been hitting the books and the internet, calling hunter friends in their network, and generally brainstorming trying to figure out what was going to happen before it happened. Not to mention Rowena was off plotting who-knows-what with the Book of the Damned and the codex, and Metatron was also who-knows-where doing who-knows-what with the demon tablet. Investigating a woman he met in a shop was not high on anyone’s priority list, no matter how much he wanted it to be.

“Umm, no.” Sam kept his eyes on his laptop, hoping Dean wouldn’t push the issue.

“Confirmed that the shop owner is a Woman of Letters, yet?” Sam’s eyes flew up to Dean’s and he knew his guilt was written all over his face.

“What? No. We have plenty of other things to worry about besides a woman in a shop in town.” Sam huffed and put his eyes back on his laptop.

“Then it must be porn you’re looking at, because I’ve never seen you look at research like that, no matter how much I know it turns you on.” Dean smirked and Sam felt his cheeks get hot. Sam sighed.

“Fine. You got me. I dug into the membership records and found her grandfather. He was one of the men Abaddon killed. She’s definitely a legacy.” Sam sighed.

“Why do you think she doesn’t know? I mean, you said her great uncle obviously knew, so why didn’t he teach her?” Dean took a drink of his beer and shook his head.

“According to the records, her uncle was 17 when Abaddon hit. He was scheduled to begin his training in January of ’59. My guess is, he knew what the Men of Letters was, but not much more. Anything he learned after ’58, he learned on his own, like Dad. Maybe after she lost her parents he decided to get out of the life? You know, make sure she didn’t lose her last remaining family member and end up in the system.”

“She lost her parents young?” Sam saw the sympathy on his brother’s face.

“Yeah. She would have been 13. Records say car crash. Couldn’t find any news articles about it, though. It appears she went to live with her uncle after that.” Sam peered at his screen. “And he died in late 2010. Looks like his death is still open, though. Coroner left the case open as undetermined. Could be foul play, could be an accident. The record says cause of death is ‘idiopathic myocardial infarction.’ Well, we know what that means.”

“Yeah, the coroner was stumped. Think it could have been our kind of thing?” Dean looked slightly dismayed at the idea, but the comment shot a dagger of ice into Sam’s heart.

“Oh, God. 2010. The Apocalypse. If he was a Men of Letters legacy, and someone knew that, you don’t think he died because someone wanted to drag him back into the life, do you?” Sam felt the guilt claw at his chest. Could Y/N have lost her last remaining family because of him?

Sam saw Dean consider the possibility and then push it away.

“Naw, man. There was lots of funky stuff going down back then that wasn’t related. It could have been a ghost just scaring him to death, for all we know. Let’s not take more on ourselves than we already have. We have enough to be guilty about, already.” Dean rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “Anyway, I came in here for a reason. Hank just called me and says he’s got a cursed object, he’s got it safely tucked away in a curse box, but he’s got nowhere safe to store it. He wanted to know if we could keep it here. I figure we have plenty of space, and there’s no place safer, so why not? I told him one of us will be at the bar down the street in a couple of hours and he can drop it off with us there. I figured you might want to go visit a certain shop just down the street from the bar, so I thought I’d take over research for a while.” Dean tossed the car keys on the table and flashed Sam a satisfied grin, obviously proud of himself for being so magnanimous as to offer to do research. Sam huffed.

“Dean, you hate research. What do you really want?” Dean put a hand over his chest dramatically and feigned offense.

“How could you possibly think that I would want anything more than to give my baby brother a chance to see the girl of his dreams again? You know, I’m offended. Here, I’m trying to do something nice, and you’re throwing it in my face! I guess I’ll just have to go meet Hank and check out this shop, myself!” Dean threw his hands up in the air and then reached for the car keys. Sam snatched the keys before Dean could reach them and got up. Dean smirked and sat back in his chair again.

“All right, Dean. I’ll be back in a few hours.” Sam grabbed his coat and headed toward the bunker’s garage. As he was almost out of earshot, he heard Dean yell.

“Oh, and bring back some pie! We’re all out of pie!” Sam shook his head as he got into the Impala.

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cost-of-chaos · 5 years

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All You Need Is Love (Chapter Six)

Thank you to the lovely @xgoingdownx for helping me out! Sorry for the wait, hope you all like this chapter, if you do, please like and reblog! If you wanna be tagged or just give me feedback my ask box is always open xx

Roger Taylor x OC

Words: 2.9K

Warnings: A little angsty?

Previous Chapters: Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five

After only a few hours of sleep, I awoke to a cold, empty room. I had spent the majority of the night tossing and turning and lost in my own depressing thoughts. I got out of the bed, I felt the effects of the restless night on my body. I had woken up sore all over, my eyes were dry and felt like sandpaper from the countless tears I’d shed, my throat was sore and my limbs ached. There were only a few things that made me feel better when I felt like this, I needed to get out of this stuffy room. I needed to feel fresh air on my skin, breathe in the cold air into my lungs and listen to leaves rustle in the wind, I needed to escape my mind and be one with nature. I bent over to slide some boots over my thick socks, and as I reached down I felt my back pop and crack all the way down my spine, if only it was that easy to release the discomfort in my heart.

I dug through my suitcase for the warmest thing I had packed and retrieved my cream cable knit sweater that I had accidentally stolen from my roommate from Ealing. I smiled to myself remembering the conversation that had taken place with Freddie when he saw me in it the first time.

“Veronica, darling, I’m not one to begrudge someone for expressing their own personal style… but you look like a sheep.” He had exclaimed before turning his back on me and rummaging through my wardrobe to find something more stylish to wear to the band practise he had invited me to. It had been only been a short time after I had met Roger that night in the bar and normally I wouldn’t have been so eager to accept the proposal to spend time with a guy I’d had a one night stand with. But after an afternoon of full of witty, flirtatious banter with Roger, we had a date planned for the next day and the rest was history.

When Roger finally saw the jumper, it was a rainy Sunday morning after we had moved into the flat together. I was making was a full fry up, dancing around to the record playing and he had walked in and told me I was the sexiest woman in the whole of London standing there wearing nothing but this jumper, a pair of knickers, rainbow socks and a paintbrush in my hair restraining my curls from cascading into my face. He had strode into the room and picked me up over his shoulder, walking me back to the bedroom with a giggle as I hit his back with a spatula. My ineffectual cries about our breakfast quickly faded away and it was the first of many meals that were burnt due to our infatuation with each other.

I blushed at the memory and felt a pang of hurt as I thought back to one of the wonderful times we had together. Freddie had been right, of course, the jumper was far too large for me, it went half way down my thighs and I had to roll the sleeves up so I could use my hands, but it was warm and cosy and still smelt like home so I didn’t really care if I looked like a farm animal today.

Before leaving the room, I scribbled a note for Freddie on the hotel branded stationery and threw my coat on, slinging my bag over my shoulder. I hastily walking out of the room that held such bad memories, memories that were repeating over and over in my head.

Once I made it to the bay of elevators, a panic swept me. What if I saw Roger? What if I saw any of the band? I didn’t want to talk to anyone, I didn’t want to see anyone, I just wanted to lose myself in a foreign country where no one knew me. I hesitantly pushed the down button and checked my wrist for the time, it was only seven, the feeling of panic which had been growing by the second instantly eased as I realised none of the boys would be up yet.

As soon as I walked out into the busy streets of Japan I felt better. Walking into the brisk cold morning air had woken me up, and as always, seeing the beauty of the world and observing everyone else running around in their busy morning routines made my problems seem less significant. Sure, I was single again and was about to be homeless but I’m still young, I have my whole life ahead of me, this will just be one of the turbulent moments that make life a bit interesting.

After half an hour of exploring small laneways with funky buildings lining them and petting cats that walked into my path, I found myself sitting on a metal bench along a river bank watching the world pass by, completely oblivious to my presence. I mentally kicked myself for not bringing my camera with me, but I had the next best thing to capture the scene unfolding in front of me. I dug around my handbag for my sketchbook and charcoal and finally found them tucked away, long forgotten in the business that has been my life recently.

While flipping through the pages to find a blank page, one page stuck out in a sea of sketches of people and scenery. I flipped back to the page that caught my eye and found messy biro notes scribbled all over the page. It was Rogers writing, he must have left me a note in here before I left for the US.

He had filled the page with words dedicated to me, love notes, notes saying how lucky we were and how much he’d miss me, he’d even penned a very long description about how much our fur baby, Lenny was going to miss me. Tears were pooling in my eyes and suddenly my new found self-assurance was dwindling. One particular poem wedged between a love heart and a messy drawing of a cat captivated my attention.

You’re my love, my life

The air that I breathe

You’re my soul, my happiness

The all that I need

You’re my world, my galaxy,

Even if we’re worlds apart,

We will never be far from the love we share,

the memories make

and the exciting future to come.

Ronnie, you’re my everything.

My eyes welled up once again. The words he had hastily scribbled on a blank page on my journal was the most beautiful thing I’d ever read, most heartfelt and meaningful. I just wished I had seen this before this whole mess. I wished it didn’t carry the tang of bitterness from the lies and unfaithfulness.

I ripped the page out of my journal and folded it neatly before throwing it into an inner pocket in my bag. I tried to bury the feeling which had started bubbling again as I looked up at the busy and diverse road, bustling in front of me and I began a quick sketch. As I sat there, with my charcoal floating across the paper in quick strokes I felt myself slowly become centred again. As I was putting the final details onto the page, my stomach let out a loud rumble. I checked my watch and was shocked to see it had been two hours since I left the hotel. I needed some food, I snapped my journal closed on the page. Stuffing it back into my bag before starting to make my way back to the hotel. Regretting my choice to race to the hotel last night instead of taking the time to change my money to Yen as I walked the surprisingly long walk back to the hotel, with smells of amazing, foreign and exotic foods filling my nose.

By the time I made it through the doors to the reception of the hotel, I was ravenous and too hungry to wait for room service. I decided to cut my losses and risk going to the buffet. As soon as I walked into the grand room, with gold chandeliers, antique mirrors and intricate red wallpaper I felt horribly underdressed.

“Veronica!” I heard from a group of people sat at the largest table in the room. I scanned the table and saw Brians unmistakable head of hair before spotting Deaky who was sitting beside him, he had the attention of everyone at the table. Deaky had obviously been the one who yelled my name alerting the whole room of my presence. Freddie turned around, with a sympathetic smile on his face,

“Ronnie, why don’t you have breakfast with us? We have plenty of room here!” He said, waving his arms around, pointing at all the seats that were free.

“I was just going to get a plate of food so I could go pack.” I said, quietly as I walked to the table, feeling uncomfortable with the amount of attention on me from the rest of the breakfast goers.

“You’re packing?” He said, much louder than he needed to with me standing so close next to him, I noticed a certain head of blonde hair whip around to face our direction, to listen to what was being said.

“I’m going back home Fred, thanks for letting me sleep in your bed last night, I’ll be out of your hair soon.” I said, almost whispering to him now, not that it mattered because he responded in the same volume as before,

“Darling if you’re going back home then you must have breakfast with us!” I half expected him to broadcast it so I was already watching Roger in my peripheral vision and watched as his mouth dropped with the news. Everything felt more real now my plans weren’t a secret, he knew now that I was leaving, that it was over.

“I...I’ll just get some food.” I said, already walking away from the table, I was no longer feeling very hungry but I couldn’t just go back to my room now. However much I loved Fred, I really wished he’d keep his head out of things that weren’t his business.

As I watched my bread slowly turn to toast as it crept along a conveyor belt under a bright orange light I felt a hand rest lightly against my back. I looked up to find Brian, looking very uncomfortable, he’d obviously heard about what happened last night.

“Ronnie… I”

“Bri, I’m really not in the mood for talking” I said forcibly, cutting him off. I picked my toast off of the conveyor belt before it had even dropped to the plate below and walked across the buffet to get butter and a knife.

I heard a frustrated sigh from Brian as he began walking back to the table and I felt a little guilty at my harshness, it wasn’t his fault, I didn’t have any right to be rude to him. I jogged to catch up to him before getting back to the table and whispered that I was sorry before shooting him a small smile. I found the perfect spot at the table, wedging myself between Freddie and Brian, but as far from Roger as I could sit. As I sat down on the plush antique chair, I glanced up the table towards Roger and noticed Roger shooting daggers down this end of the table. Typical, he’s the one that fucked up but he’s turned it on me.

As I cradled my coffee cup in my hands, and I chewed the last bite of my soggy toast and the boys around me chatted away happily. I couldn’t help but look at Roger one more time, one last time. His long blonde hair was sticking in all directions, mostly concealing his face as he stared at his bowl, swirling his cereal around in the milk aimlessly, without eating it.

He must have felt my eyes on him because he lifted his head, and looked straight to me, it was then when I noticed that his brow furrowed and his eyes glassy and bloodshot with large dark bags under them. By the looks of it, he hadn’t gotten any sleep after last night. Good. I knew it was spiteful and petty but it made me feel better seeing how bad he looked.

Time seemed to stop as I stared into his eyes across the table. Both of us were unblinking, with dancing eyes as we thought of the thousands of things we wanted to say to each other. A big part of me wanted to run over to him and stroke his face, brush his hair and tell him we were going to work it out. But I didn’t, I just sat there, glued to my chair as I imagined what I would be doing if I didn’t have quite as strong of a backbone.

“Excuse me, I need to go pack, have a good tour.” I said, unable to stop staring at Roger. I ripped my eyes off him once I finally managed to stand up, I gave the rest of the boys tight hugs. I hoped this wouldn’t be the last time we all spent time together, but I knew it probably would be. Sure Freddie and I would probably still see each other, but Brian and Deaky? We only became friends because of all the time I spent with Roger, and I knew the same thing would happen that happened after every other relationship I’ve had. I knew I’d lose all the friends that I made these past few years, they’d take their mates side in the breakup, leaving me not only mourning my partner but also friends and a whole life I’d built up.

As I walked away from the table, I heard a fight erupt from the table I’d just left. Voices raised, and I could hear Rogers accent grow thicker as his voice raised above the rest of them, putting a damper on the argument.

After a long flight delay and many glasses of gin at an airport bar, and one book by some American named Stephen King I’d picked up in New York and I finally touched down back down in London. After standing in the pouring rain for a cab for 10 minutes my clothes were soaked through, wonderful, the last thing I needed was to get sick on top of everything else.

I finally made it to the flat after a long cab ride and walk up the stairs to our top floor apartment. As soon as I opened the front door, I was blasted by cold air from the uninhabited rooms and felt my teeth start chattering. Memories of the warm and comforting flat are gone as I walked into the empty apartment, feeling more empty and alone than ever. I peeled my wet top off of my body and searched our coat rack, hoping that I hadn’t just left all my coats in the bedroom like I normally do, but I found it empty except for one jacket. Rogers fur coat draped over a coat hook at the front door. As I slipped the coat on, I buried my face into the soft brown fur collar and inhaled Rogers scent.

I raced around the tiny flat turning the radiators on before filling the kettle for a much-needed cuppa while the heating kicked in. After pouring the boiling water into my mug, I ran downstairs to our neighbour below us, Mrs Lancaster, hoping she wasn’t at bingo. I knocked on the door and I heard faint footsteps behind the door.

“Oh hello dear, you’re back! How was your time away?” She asked, with a sweet smile. She had been my favourite neighbour ever since we moved in and she baked us freshly baked banana bread as a moving in gift.

“Oh it was great!” I said, lying through my teeth. “Just don’t have any milk and I’m in need for a proper brew!” I held up my mug of black tea for emphasis, forcing a large smile on my face, I didn’t want to have to explain anything to her, I just needed a dash of milk.

After a few minutes of pleasantries, I was on my way back to my flat, my smile disappearing just as quickly as it arrived. As I got back to my flat, I was pleasantly surprised to feel the heating was already working. Walking into the living room, I sat cross-legged on the couch, reaching behind me for the thick blanket which was always draped over the back for late night cuddling. I sat on the couch, bundled up in a cocoon, sipping on my tea for what felt like hours. I gazed at the wall opposite me, at all the photos and drawings we had hung up over the years of our life together, remembering all of the good times we’d shared. The way the sun was poking through the clouds and coming through the window made the room look magical, the way dust particles floated in the golden light looked like fairy dust and I was captivated. Gold turned to pink and soon the only light that was coming into the room was from the streetlights.

Taglist: @perriwiinkle @hiyadarlingirl @asquiresofftime

#roger taylor x oc #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor #ben hardy as roger taylor #ben hardy! roger taylor #ben hardy!roger x reader #queen #fanfic #roger taylor fanfic #queen fanfiction #angst #heartbreak #japan #freddie mercury #brian may #john deacon

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tournesoldansunjardin · 6 years

Text

Dear Emma, May 30th Vancouver day trip

I decided to go into Vancouver since it was the only place I could purchased the CBD cream for my knee. Well, what I am saying? If CBD is good for aches and pains, my goodness it should do wonders for all my aches due to Fibromyalgia. I will just get it and slather it all over the sore areas…which are plenty.

My host was kind enough to drive me to the bus stop, which saved me a good 30 minutes. I had loaded extra $ on my Compass card, so was not too worried of transfers and getting to the Waterfront in Vancouver. What I had not anticipated was the bus did NOT drive into the city as a few locals had told me last night. The bus stopped at Bridgeport SkyTrain station and I saw everyone get off. I walked up to the front and asked the driver if this was the end of the line…yuppers!

I remembered Waterfront line since it is close to our Vancouver office and chose that line to get in town.

I had the address of the Cannabis Lounge where I was hoping to get my cream. In BC you don’t need a prescription to get it but in Montreal we do. I have my request put in for that when I get back from vacation but I wanted to try it now since my knees were so painful as well as neck and shoulders, so what had I to lose? My intention was to buy it, try it and then mail it to me in Quebec because there was no way I was flying with that or going through customs with it. There is barely any THC in it and it does not affect the brain/mood but it is supposed to be healing and soothing for inflammation…so they say!

(C)Clr’18 Vancouver, GasTown, Hastings Street

I got in town and started walking in circles…yes, that is me. I look at Google Map on my phone and argue with it thinking I know better well, that means I go in circles and get so fed up, I give in to Google and voilà I found the place

I was a bit apprehensive since it is on Hastings Street and there is a section that is quite sketchy but this place was not that far East…phew! As I walked in, there were three clerks at the centre of the shop on a raised platform surrounded by a counter. There were so many smoking paraphernalia and most I have never seen…well, maybe in a movie! As I walked in, one clerk was lighting up a joint and then gave it to his colleague and calmly [they sure ARE calm!] asked if he could help me.

I started, “I come from very far…” and explained that I heard the MJ Pain cream was very good for joint pain. One of the clerks said he uses it regularly on his wrist and it works…I doubt it was just the cream…[wink wink]

The small jar was $45 and the larger one $100…so I took the small one. I left and looked around for a comfortable café where I could put the cream on my knees, neck and shoulder and sit and relax with an Americano and wait for the magic. I found a Starbucks on an nice corner with a terrace, so I stood in line for the washroom first. After a good fifteen minutes, I entered and put the cream on, and placed the jar on the toilet paper shelf. As I put it there, I told myself, “I had better not forget it now!.” Why the hell did I not put it in my bag straight away? I wanted to wash my hands first.

I ordered my double shot Americano and sat comfortably in an armchair and relaxed…I felt a tingling in my neck but still pain. My knees had not budged…I mean the pain did not subside even a little. My shoulders were the same but my upper arm seemed painless. Hmmm, well, maybe I need to slather this on a few times before seeing any difference.

After an hour of reading and writing on my iPad, I messaged a colleague who now works in the Vancouver office and asked if I could take her out for dinner on her hour break later. I am so glad I did. She brought me to this funky bar called The Taco Shop actually just across the street from The Cannabis Lounge…another coincidence? I was thrilled hearing the jazz music as I walked In. I was so delighted. Of course I ordered seafood burritos with guacamole and chips to start. My friend chose the local beer for me as she had a good idea on what I preferred. It was great!!

We could only eat half so we doggy bagged the rest (which I will be eating as my bedtime snack tonight) and I went to join her at the office. I wanted to show her my jar of magic potion. I looked in every section of my backpack…then she looked for me and then an image flashed before my eyes ‘Brown jar marked MJ Cream’ on the shelf above the toilet paper’. I slapped my forehead with the palm of my hand out of sheer frustration! Darn!!! I forgot it there.

Then I remember the woman going into the washroom after me, I warned her that there was no more toilet paper (for which I was pleased I had carried Wet ones in my bag). I saw her later and she looked at me weird…NOW, I know why. She was probably waiting for me to ask the clerk if anyone had found a jar of cream. But I had not realized it at that time. Well, my coffee ended up costing me $55.00 (including Americano and a danish).

I was kicking shelf but then I finally let it go and figured if anyone who more pain and fell upon it, then I’m happy someone can benefit it. I know I will not order it online, having tried it, I need something stronger which I noticed they have another blend for arthritic pain. In any event, I shall discuss it with my rheumatologist before I try that again, since I am sure he has referred many of his patients to alternative pain relievers.

Walking back home away from home slowly and stopping often to take in the v

Getting back home on the sky train was fine (I double checked with a local to make sure I was taking the correct line since it was getting late and late transit is not so great outside of the city). I got at the bus stop at 10:30pm and looked on my app Transit to check the stops to make sure I got the right transfer. When I got at the stop at 11:15pm, there was no one waiting for a bus, so I asked another local and the lady was going to call the transit company not trusting my phone app. Just then the 321 transfer bus arrived, so we checked and the driver said this was the right line. The bus was a fifteen minute ride and the driver told me to just keep walking straight ahead and the road will become the street I needed to get to. WELL HE WAS WRONG!!!!

I walked onto a highway crossing and realized I could not be going in the right direction. Thank goodness the moon was so full and bright but boy was I getting frustrated, tired and after 30 minutes of turning in circles, I was getting scared. I did not meet ONE person on the streets where I was walking. This is so different than back home. My phone was losing juice quickly at 7% and often it closes down at 5%…I didn’t want to call the host of my AirBnB as I knew she turns in early (compared to me) and I wished for once that Uber existed in B C. If I would call them (like I did once in a similar situation when it got too dark in San Diego to retrace my steps) I called Lyft (similar to Uber) and they catch us on their GPS and pick us up straight away. I have to say we should have that service at least outside of major cities where transit is scarce. I could not have called a taxi, since they don’t have the GPS system Uber has. My last resort if I could no longer find the house was to call the police.

There was 1% left on my phone and it stayed on by pure miracle …yes, I said a few prayers too! And I finally got home at 12:30. I had walked 12km that day but 5km just getting home since it was supposed to be 2km!

Oh well, at least it gave me something to write to you about, Emma. Right? I took a nice hot shower when I got it to soothe every aching muscle and slept like a baby.

May 31st,

Today I woke up at 8 am but my body wouldn’t budge. I picked up my phone and finished reading an e-book, then I snoozed a bit off and on and did not get out of bed until noon. It took me a while to get moving but I took my time. And now here I am at a café

I started with a cappuccino and called my uncle in Ontario to wish him happy 90th birthday and then treated myself to a double scoop (did not realize they were so BIG) of rainbow chocolate…YUM!!

I sat inside to savour the ice cream and the music turned to Jazz which seemed to attract my muse and voilà, I just finished another post!

It is such a treat to by typing my post in front of the ocean…time to leave and sit on the shore now…one last time. Then walk the 4km back.

I picked up s few souvenirs at Whitby’, a place recommended by a grienf who used to live here in White Rock I wanted so much there but the owner said I could order online too.

I sat on the beach taking in all I could , meditating and trying to be st one with my surroundings. After half an hour I decided to walk back home slowly hopefully my to find a spot tovrst closer to my lodgings.

Unfortunately, I did not find a restaurant or fish and chip place open after nine. Boy!!! it’s a bit like Toronto was like in the early 1990’s. Ih well I guess ti each its own.

There were some other places further away from my lodgings, so I thought about the half seafood burrito I saved from last night. Phew! I also brought some good aged cheddar from Montreal. I am all set for my last night in BC.

Unpredictable Whimsical and enchanting Like Mother Nature

Unpredictable The weather In Canada

Whimsical and enchanting Getting to know A new lover

Like Mother Nature Humans influenced by the moon And the stars

(C)Tournesol’18-05-31

Daily Moments – unpredictability- May 31-18 (troibun)

Dear Emma -III – May 30-31 Vancouver (GasTown) (C) Clr’18. Inspired by the jazz playing in the cafe Dear Emma, May 30th Vancouver day trip…

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