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86-was-his-year · 4 years

Text

Totally Rad | p.s.h

Warnings: Bullying, near sexual harassment, violence, swearing, domestic violence, anxiety, lots of crying, if you have an issue with any of these please don’t read this isn’t the right book for you.

Summary: It’s 1985 and arcades are the perfect place to meet your soulmate.

A/N: This took like 2 months and it’s like 12,000 words please don’t let this flop. Sorry for spelling errors I proofread as much as I could handle.

The wind blows harshly as I make my way to the small arcade around the corner. It's a chilly October morning in 1985 and my thin sweater isn't doing enough to keep the wind out. I watch as the cars pass me by, all looking ahead ready to get to their desired destinations. They barely turned an eye toward a freezing kid on the side of the road, nobody trusted each other anymore. The small arcade came into view and I saw the doors filled with flyers and posters for new games that came in, as well as a small logo dead center.

'Pips Arcade'

The perfect job for a senior in high school. It was easy to work around here but I'd rather do this than scoop ice cream for the annoying kids down at the mall or be an assistant in a small news office. They treat women like slaves over there, my friend Betty told me so. She can't get a better job so she's currently stuck there.

"Y/N! You made it!" Maria, a small 15 year old girl stood behind the counter giving some kid their coins before telling them to have fun. She was always optimistic when it came to working, especially with the kids that came in.

"I'm five minutes early." She acted like I wasn't coming at all. Sometimes people really did leave her there and she called me at home to take her shift because she couldn't be out late. It wasn't her fault she was paranoid but it irked me just a tad to think that she thought I wasn't coming.

"I know. You're always early." She signed off on the slip of paper and I signed in before setting my things in the back room.

"Have a good night, Maria." The gave her a wide smile before shooing her away.

"Hey, my family is having a bonfire to burn all of our junk. Do you want to come. My parents would really like to meet you!" She held the door open for some more kids before turning back to me.

"I'll think about it." My response was short but I didn't hurt her feelings. I didn't plan on going but there was no reason to tell her that. Knowing her she'll invite five more people before hearing an official response from me. She's always been the type to make friends no matter who they were. It was kind of a gift if I was being honest.

"Bye!" She waved and let the door shut on it's own a small drift catching it's way in causing me to shiver behind the counter. It was really time to invest in a coat but with the stress of trying to buy a car and help my parents stay afloat it really wasn't the time to be selfish.

My family. An easy way to explain them would be dysfunctional, abusive, selfish. My older brother had left when he got the chance, but not before sticking it to my dad. I got beat for that one. We occasionally talk but its usually on holidays or if I can get access to a phone. Sometimes if the arcade is slow I borrow Pips landline and call my brother, he seldom answers. I look around at the kids and wonder why they get it so good, how a 10 year old can get two dollars from their mom or dad to get coins at the arcade. If I found money as a kid it was going straight to my parents no questions asked, the scar on my right hip reminds me of that.

"Excuse me miss?" I was pulled from my thoughts as a small kid walked up to the counter, "May I have some more coins please?" He put a dollar on the counter and I took it with a smile, handing him six coins back. Pip likes to be real generous so instead of the regular four coins he has us give them six, hes nice like that.

"Have fun." He laughed and ran away to give some to his friend. Sometimes I envy that. The look he gets when he has someone to talk to, someone to share with. I never had enough to share anything. I was about to go back into my thoughts when the bell in the door rang I turned to say a greeting and I stopped when I saw four teens walk through the door. They were jocks and anyone with a pair of eyes could see that, their varsity jackets clinging to their arms like a medal.

"Hello." I got over my shock and said a mandatory greeting, Pip likes us to be formal.

"Hi!" One of them shooed the others away and walked towards me. The closer he got the more intimidated and fidgety I became. At school jocks were known for unnecessary violence and bullying, I was always a target.

"W-what can can I get for you?" I felt my eyes slightly widen at my stutter it hadn't come out in years yet here it was crawling back up my throat. It was something I learned to control a while ago, my father insisting I not speak until I dealt with it. The boy looked at me and I saw something flash across his eyes it didn't look malicious to harmful but it looked different. Not like when my dad got angry after hearing my stutter. It was something else, something warm.

"Can I get some coins for a five?" He pulled out a five dollar bill and slid it across the counter putting his hands back into his pocket after I took the bill.

"Sure." I put the bill into the register and typed the number into the coin slot. I grabbed a small bag and put it under the receiver just to make it easier for him.

"Hey, you go to OS right?" I stopped in my tracks, "I think I've seen you around." I pressed the button and let the coins fall into the bag.

"Yeah, I do." I looked back and saw him watching me. I turned back to the coins and pulled them away from the receiver once it was done filling. I twisted the back and put it up onto the counter.

"You're a senior right, I think we have AP US History together." I looked down at my hands before looking back up at him.

"Maybe I'm not sure. I don't really talk to anyone in that class." I smiled lightly before looking away, keeping eye contact was so hard for me it almost felt impossible.

"Hey, Park!" He turned back and shooed his friends away for just a second.

"Well, I'll keep an eye out for you. You got a name?" I took a breath and pushed my fear away. I wasn't just going to leave him hanging I know it would haunt me for months to come. I wasn't going to be that girl.

"It's Y/N." I smiled at him and he smiled back, his teeth shining so bright I could almost think they were fake.

"Pretty, I'll see you around, Y/N." He took the bag from the counter and smoothly walked away. The way my name rolled off his lips made my heart skip a beat or two. I had never gotten attention like that and I couldn't help but want more of it, for some reason it felt good to be acknowledged by him. All my life it was beat her, call her names, make sure that she knows she's trash and soon I began to believe it but hes making me feel different. He even called my name pretty.

I scolded myself. I couldn't be thinking about this I didn't even know his name, I mean I know his last name is Park but only because it says it on his jacket. His last name with a big two on the back in black, white, and red, OS colors. Why didn't I see it before logically I should've known as soon as he walked in. I guess my fear just blinded my brain. I really wanted to look at him again and I looked up to find some of his friends looking at me, a small smile on their faces. I quickly looked away and went to cleaning under the shelves. Maria really needed to learn how to keep organized.

Time passed in the small arcade and kids came and went with smiles and laughs. It was great to see them happy. Them talking about girls or boys that they had crushes on or how their math teacher sucks Donkey Kong's dick, yes that's something I've actually heard. All their juvenile fears and worries are something that I have envied for so long. Sometimes my brain thinks of what my family could have been and honestly it's just my subconscious throwing a pity party for myself.

"Hey Y/N?" The boy from earlier came up to the counter with a little girl had to be no more than 8, her black hair pulled up in two ponytails secured with a pink ribbons. He smiled and slid another five over, "Can I get some more coins please?" I smiled and nodded taking the five and repeating the process over again. I put the coins in the bag and slid them back across the counter.

"Now," he crouched down to her level and handed her all the coins. "go take these and share them with the rest of the kids okay. You'll have so many friends you won't even believe." He patted the little girls shoulder and watched her as she ran off the coin jingling in her grasp.

"Thank you mister." She waved and went over to a small group of kids, offering the coins to play with her they all screamed in glee and hugged her. So, it was that easy to make friends huh?

"Why did you do that?" I couldn't hold back the curiosity he spent 10 dollars here today, 10 dollars. That's a lot for an arcade and money usually isn't tossed around like that.

"She was crying over there. She had no coins and no friends it's hard out there if you have no friends. Look at that," he pointed to the gathering at Pac Man. The girl was laughing and watching some boy play. "instant happiness."

"Why are you so nice?" The question came out like rushing water. I didn't want to push him because for all I know he could come out and be a total jerk.

"Where would I be in life if I was rude? There's really no point." He shrugged and leaned on the counter, his stance was calm. He watches his friends mess around at street fighter and he watched the girl with her new found friends at Pac Man.

"But you're a jock. You have every right to be rude." I sounded defensive and I urged myself to relax, my shoulder were tensed and my hands were crossed at my chest, my body basically telling him that I didn't trust him.

"I mean I play a sport yeah, and I have a bunch of friends but that doesn't give me the right to be rude. I think it's just a stereotype to be completely honest, based on some assholes who were jocks you know. Being a jerk only gets you alone." His words really rang true, I was stereotyping him and I found myself disgusted with myself.

"I'm sorry." I let my hands fall against the counter, finally relaxing.

"Its alright. I mean it's a stereotype for a reason. Some jocks do think they can get away with being rude. Not this one." He smiled and pointed to himself.

"I never got your name." I said pulling over the stool that sat there for slow days.

"Oh, its Seonghwa. Park Seonghwa." He pushed out his hand and I took it with a smile. He went back to leaning against the counter but this time he was facing me.

"Do you live around here?" He asked smiling. He held my eye contact and I found my heart skipping a few beats again.

"Um, no it's like 10 blocks away." I pointed in the direction my house and I finally took notice of the sky outside. The sun had set and it looked pitch black except for the dim yellow street lights that lit the roads.

"I didn't see another car in the parking lot, do you walk?" Worry flashes across his face and I found myself not wanting to tell him the truth. I had a feeling it would worry him even more if I confirmed his suspicions.

"Yeah but it really doesn't feel like a long time." I waved him off and smiled. He opened his mouth to say something but his friends interrupted him.

"Hey, Hwa I gotta get home. My moms got a casserole in the oven. Wanna join, you know she loves you." A short boy with blonde hair came up to Seonghwa and put an arm around him.

"No, I can't I got family plans tonight but I'll take you home." He stood up fully and the guys arm fell back to his side, not being able to comfortably sit on Seonghwas broad shoulders.

"And who's this pretty lady?" I found my cheeks heating up at the compliment. He seemed slick and his feline eyes held deep brown orbs. They are soft but sharp at the same.

"Guys this is Y/N, Y/N these are the guys." He moved out of the way and I stood up to politely greet them.

"Wooyoung." The blonde haired boy waved and moved to the side.

"Yeosang." He has beautiful auburn hair and brown eyes that I could stare into forever.

"Hongjoong." The last guy had light brown hair that came to a mullet at the end. And on his hand I saw one painted fingernail.

I hated to make the observation but Seonghwa really was better looking than all of them. With his tanned skin and heading highlights nobody in this group matched his complexion, he was almost unreal.

"It was really nice to meet you Y/N. We'll see you around." Seonghwa held the door open for his friends and waved to me as the door shut, letting the cold night air in again. I waved back and sighed my gut telling me that they were just going to tall about how ugly I was on the ride home. My brain really wouldn't let me have anything good.

"Hey kids, I'm gonna have to ask you to finish up your games." I went out from behind the counter and started shutting down the games that were being used, alas it was closing time at Pip's Arcade. One by one the kids walked out the door to their parents or I saw groups of them riding away on bikes the ideal transportation for kids these days. I began to wish that I had a bike when I was younger, the thought of being able to ride away from my parents whenever I wanted to because a little fantasy of mine. Maybe that's why they never let me buy a bike, I mean if I ever learned how to ride a bike that's what I would be doing.

I began to do small chores like wiping down the screens of the games as well as the windows and doors to the arcade. The keys and joysticks have already been disinfected and all the coins that were used today were put in a separate bucket to keep inventory. I refilled up the coin machine and double checked that everything else was stocked.

The bathrooms were usually the worst part, sometimes kids didn't flush and there was literal shit everywhere or the paper towels and toilet paper were thrown haphazardly around the room. Thankfully it wasn't as bad as it usually was, a couple napkins and candy wrappers here and there but nothing too bad and for sure nothing that I couldn't handle.

The last thing to do was to do a once-over of everything to make sure that it was all good before locking the back door and taking the trash out of the front, locking the glass doors behind me. Each one of the closing staff has a key of their own so we could just close up and Pip wouldn't have to worry about coming to close it up at night. I put the trash in the side bin and turned to go home.

"Hey, pretty girl!" I turned around in shock to find Seonghwa sitting on one of the small decorative poles we had set up at the front, a bag of colorful candy in his hand. He looked me straight in the eyes and pulled some of the gummy candy out of the bag before popping one side in his mouth, stretching it until it broke off his his teeth.

"Seonghwa, what are you doing here? Don't you have family plans?" I tightened my grip on the backpack strap on my shoulder and took a deep breath. This is where he takes me around the corner and slits my throat and no one will ever find my body like with that one handsome murderer. What was his name again?

"Just thought you might like a ride. It's too cold to walk without a coat now." He finished off his gummy and put the rest in his pocket. He hopped off the pole and walked over to me.

"You really don't have to. I can walk." I looked you at him and I finally realized how tall he really was. My neck had a small stretch from looking up at him and I literally just started. His skin was also so smooth I wouldn't believe he was a teenager, it was almost like he was a robot. I mean my dad was saying that Russia made robots already but that was only when he was drunk.

"Well, I really want to." He looped his arm around my shoulders and guided me to the car opening the door for me to slide right in. His car was actually really nice it was clean which was a really big plus. The seats were black and the outside was a light blue a really good match for him.

I sat on the plush leather seats and held my bag on my lap, not knowing till now how uncomfortable it was to sit in a bar with a backpack. He opened his door and hopped in putting on his seat belt and then started the car. The engine sounded impressive for how the car looked but then again I haven't sat in a car for long time.

"Seat belt." He looked over at me with expectant eyes. Like I was meant to do something for him.

"What?" I looked at him in confusion and he smiled lightly.

"Here," he reaches over my chest and pushed my bag out of the way a little before grabbing something next to me and pulling it across my chest. It clicked by my hip and I looked back up at him, "seat belt." He smiled and then pit the car in reverse looking back before smoothly pulling out of the parking spot.

I guess I hadn't been a car in longer than I thought. My dad's car didn’t have seat belts or if it did he never told us. It also felt weird I was so used to walking so seeing everything go by so fast was crazy, I looked out the window to see if I could catch every single house with my eye.

"How do you get to school Y/N?" Seonghwa had his hand on the little console nub, occasionally shifting the nub making the car change in speed and the other on the steering wheel.

"I walk every morning." I looked over at him and his eyes were focused on the road.

"Your parents don't take you to school?" He shifted gears again and I gave him a small direction to turn left.

"They don't have time to take me to school anymore," like they eleven did in the first place, "I'm really fine with walking. It wakes me up in the morning." He sighed and shook his head.

"Its gonna start getting really cold soon. Do you have a coat?" He looked over at me and caught me looking at him so I turned towards the window again. I put my forehead against it and found that it was freezing, it soothed the beginnings of a headache.

"No, why do you care so much?" I didn't want to sound defensive but with the way he sighed I knew that I did.

"I don't know Y/N. You just can't go around walking in winter with no coat." He said and I pointed to the he small house at the end of the street. The rotting shingles of the cream colored house were hidden bu the darkness of the night but everyone could see the house. It looked like the drug house, every neighborhood had one. This one just happened to be my home.

"It's not winter yet." I grumbled and he chuckled.

"You are just so stubborn aren't you?" He pulled into the driveway and put the car in park.

"I mean I think I'm pretty reasonable." I shrugged and smiled at him. He looked at me and rolled his eyes with a light smile.

"I'm picking you up from now on." He turned to look straight ahead at the garage door which house an old 1950 car that my father only used to go to the bar.

"Seonghwa you can't. It's completely out of the way. It's a waste of gas." I turned to him in my seat and tried to reason with him. Even him being here now was a risk if my dad saw him taking me home we were both toast. He would kill both of us.

"It's okay. I have a good paying job. I can't just let you walk in the cold. I'll let you walk again in the springtime." He let his hands fall into his lap and he turned to me for the first time since he started this conversation. His eyes were warm and genuine, it felt calm and serene it was like the moment in the movies were nobody speaks but they just know and they kiss and gross shit. I just knew he was being genuine.

"Fine. Just park across the street and I'll walk to your car, okay?" I looked down at the seat belt and began to try and pull it off. It just kept getting tighter and tighter and I sighed looking for something for it to unlock.

"Deal." He reached towards my hip and the pressure on my lap disappeared. The buckle went back to its place by the door and I smiled, I was so dumb. I grabbed the handle and opened the door.

"Bye Seonghwa." I grabbed the frame of the door and was going to shut it when he stopped me,

"Hey wait," he reached into his pocket and pulled put the candy, "for making my day." I took the bag with a smile and gave him a small wave before heading into the house.

The door creaked and I turned around to watch Seonghwa pull out of the driveway and back down the street. I shut the door quietly and locked it up, knowing my dad would have a fit if he woke up and it wasn't locked. He was asleep in his easy chair the light snoring in the living room telling me to go nowhere near there. I put my bag back on my shoulders and walked quietly into the kitchen grabbing a plate from the fridge before making my way up the stairs.

My mom was one of the exceptions to the abuse and the dysfunction. She married my father when they were young, she had no idea what he would become. She told me once that she was going to just run away and leave but then she found out that she was pregnant with my brother and she stayed. She was a flower in the desert, it's what I like to call her.

"Mommy?" I put the plate and my bag in my room before taking to the hallways to find her.

"In here dear," I followed her voice to the bathroom. She was in the bath her hair pulled up and a book in her hands, "I borrowed this from your room. Hope you don't mind but I've read all mine twice already." She laughed and folded the book to show me the cover. IT by Stephen King. It came out earlier this year and has been one of my favorite books up to date.

"Not at all, mind if I eat in here with you?" I waited until she nodded to go grab my plate. It was meatloaf and mashed potatoes my father's favorite. He must have been in a bad mood today, the fresh bruise on my moms arm was also a dead giveaway. She knows that I see it and yet I don't say anything. I know it breaks her heart.

"So, this Stephen guy is kind of messed up." She flipped the page and then folded the corner, which made my heart die a little but I let her do it because I love my mom.

"Yeah, I think he's made a couple of others and there all messed up. They have like murder and like spiritual powers and stuff. He's the new King of horror. Get it?" I laughed at my own joke and she began chuckling as well.

"How did I make something so perfect?" He grabbed my cheek and caressed her fingers against it. They were soft and warm comforting, like ever mothers touch.

"I mean have you looked in the mirror? Look at all that beauty." I knew that if I let her indulge in how much she loved me I would begin to cry. We often cried together because we both know we deserve better than this. We deserve a nice house in a cul de sac with a good dad and husband who cooks while my mom takes her baths and reads.

"Oh shut up." She laughed and patted my head before finally putting her hands in the bath and relaxing. "How was work?" She closed her eyes but I knew she was listening. I reached over and shut the door lightly.

"It was good. Maria thought I wasn't coming in once again." I leaned against the tub and began to finish my dinner.

"That girl needs to relax." My mom shifted in the water and the sound of water moving around instantly relaxed me.

"Well, they've left her there alone three times. That's three times too many." I put my plate off time the side and took a deep breath. "I also met a boy." My mom sucked in a deep breath and I shut my eyes tight.

"You can't bring him here. You know that right?" My moms voice turned serious and I sighed.

"He wants to pick me up every morning. He's worried cause I walk alone at night in the cold." She shifted in the water again and I knew she was looking at me.

"Y/N, you remember the last time you brought someone over? He hurt you so bad, you were so young." She caressed my hair and I felt the water droplets fall down the back of my neck.

"I told him to park across the street. Hopefully hes here after dad leaves." I sighed and leaned into her touch, a small tear leaving the corner of my eye.

"Good. Now, tell me about him. Is he cute?" The rest of the night went smoothly we talked for hours or until the water in the tub got cold then we went to her rooms after doing the dishes together and I braided her hair. We talked about Seonghwa and what I want to do when I'm older. It was really anything and everything. I fell asleep in her comforting arms as light rain began to pour from the sky.

I woke up to my mom shaking my arm. It had to be before the sun was up because the only light in the room was the light coming from the bathroom. She stood above me with a pile of clothes, "I washed these for you. Go put them away. Your father's gone." I sat up and took them from her, a fresh pair of underwear sat on the top of the pile. That meant I was able to shower today.

The water was nice and warm against my back. It has been about three days since my last shower and I was already beginning to feel grimy. After sweating at work and in my gym class it was time to take care of myself a bit. I never showered when my dad is here you never know when he'll pop in to go pee even when there's a bathroom downstairs.

My mom insisted she brush my hair and style it, something she's done ever since I was a kid. She put it in a half up half down look that was becoming more and more popular. She even sprayed a little perfume on my neck, something she only did for special occasions.

"You know I love you right?" She smiled and gave me a hug. He made eye contact in the mirror and I could see her eyes were full of love.

"I know, mommy. I love you too." I hugged her arms and then turned around for a full hug.

"Go wait for your friend. I'll see you when you get home." She kissed my forehead and I grabbed my bag from my room, the bag of gummy worms still in the front pouch. Turns out my mom had excellent timing, Seonghwa showing up right as I reached the window to watch.

"Is this a good time?" I opened the door and he greeted me with that." I nodded and put my bag on my lap reaching for the seat belt while looking for what it clicked into. The silver metal box with the red button on it seemed like a good spot and I got it in on the first try.

"So, do you live around here?" I wanted to know how far away he lived so I could measure how much has he was using to pick me up.

"Yeah, actually. Its really just right around the corner. About 3 blocks that way." He pointed to the right and I nodded. That was the rich people neighborhood, everyone knew that.

"Okay that's not horrible." I looked out the window again and watched the trees go by. It was gloomy today, the remnants of the rain still dripping from the tree branches.

"Hey, so me and a couple of friends are going to see a drive-in movie tonight. Wanna go?" His eyes were still on the road when I looked at him. Is the asking me out on a date? It was honestly a foreign concept to me but first dates are always to the movies. But he said his friends were going so it wasn't just us.

"I don't have any money." I felt embarrassed at the fact that I truly didn't have money for things like that.

"I can pay for you. Its gonna be rad." He chuckled and looked at me for assurance.

"Are you sure you want me to come?" I looked at him and found him staring at me, the look in his eyes much like the one of my mother's but different.

"Of course. I hope you like horror though." He turned back to the road and pulled into the school parking lot, finding a spot close to the door. Student athletes get privileges what can I say.

"Which one is it?" Not that I really would have an idea of what it was. I haven't seen a movie in theaters since my fifth birthday, the last birthday party I ever had.

"Aliens, it came out a couple years ago. They’re just now allowed to show it at the drive-in." The way he talked about it made me excited. His smile pulling his cheeks up and making his eyes squint. Stop. You can't think like that, hes just trying to be nice. Befriending the loner girl would make his reputation soar.

"Hey, we're here." He out his hand on my shoulder and I instantly flinched. I chuckled and shook it off.

"Sorry I was thinking about how cool that movie is going to be. I'll come." I could stick it to my dad for one night. Tell them that Maria asked me to take her shift tonight. Easy enough.

"Awesome!" I couldn't help but think about the look in his eyes after I flinched at his touch. It was just so natural to be afraid if anyone's touch but my mother's. Her loving hugs and touches were the only good contact I had with people in this world. Even my brother couldn't compare.

I got out of the car and instantly felt eyes on me. Wooyoung, Yeosang, and Hongjoong were all waiting by the doors for him and a couple of others standing next to them as well. They all waved and smiled and walked over to us. They were positively magnetic, wherever they went new eyes followed their movements and in turn they all went to me the new person in the group.

"Hey Pretty Lady!" Wooyoung out his hand up in the air and recoiled a bit before realizing that it was just a high five I pulled it off by doing some weird hand movements to reach his high five. They laughed and whooped causing more attention to shift to us.

"So, Y/N's going to be coming to the movies with us today. Is that cool with everybody?" They all agreed and nodded. I felt accepted already into this large group of jocks and I couldn't help but feel a little powerful.

"Oh, this is Yunho, San, Mingi, and Jongho." Wooyoung pointed at a bunch of different people and I shot a small wave to all of them.

"I'm Y/N nice to meet you." I smiled and laughed as they all shot greetings my way.

"Alright guys let's go." Hongjoong led the way into the doors and I felt Seonghwas arm slip around my shoulders. Honestly I was thankful for his touch, as all the eyes and the whispers began to become too loud to my ears his warm arm was there to pull me back to him. Almost like a gravitational pull.

"I'll see you in US history." He branched off the other way and I was back to being alone. In a sea of monsters who all wanted to stop me and talk but I brushed past until I finally got to my English class where my isolation began all over again. It was really nothing special everything the teacher taught I knew already, I was way ahead in the book we were reading so all there was left to do was stare out the window and hope that the bell would ring soon.

The halls were way more crowded than I remember them being, everyone trying to get to their lockers or whatever class they were going to, lines behind the vending machine and the bathroom doors swinging open and closed. It was all so much and all the eyes staring at me made my skin crawl with unease. Around every corner it was "the girl who is friends with the football team".

"Hey," an arm slipped around my shoulders once more but I knew who it was, "how was your class?" I leaned into his shoulder and sighed.

"It was fine. Really nothing interesting, it's senior English." I chuckled and breathed in his scent. He was wearing a grey turtleneck and black pants, no varsity jacket to be found a plain outfit but it was nice. It smelled warm and calm, and mixed with his natural scent it was practically heaven. Maybe it's weird to like the way he smells but I didn't tell my olfactory senses to hop on it.

"I get that much. I take that third and fourth term. Maybe you can help me, cause you're just too smart." His voice turned to a mocking tone and I chuckled, hitting his stomach lightly.

"I did not say that." I pushed a little closer to him and he stumbled a little but caught his footing before it was an issue.

"Sounded pretty similar if you ask me." I put my head fully on his shoulder and just enjoyed the moment. He was walking me to class with his arm around my shoulders, saying that yes this is my friend. We looked around the class and saw only two available seats next to each other so I sat in front of him and he sat behind me. The bell rang and I got out my stuff and that's when I began to feel his hand in my hair.

At first it was light pressure against my scalp, he was twirling my hair in his fingers I really didn't mind either on of the ways my mom helps he relax after my dad gets angry. He was twirling and braiding the strands of my hair together and then he moved up, his fingers grazing the nape of my neck causing me to flinch a little at the sensitivity there. He rubbed small circles into my skin, telling me that it was okay he want going to hurt me and I relaxed in my seat.

His fingers then went into my scalp and that's when I felt really calm. The teacher was droning on about some president or whatever but my eyelids were dropping and I couldn't care, the way he was rubbing circles into my scalp had my body loose like a goose and that's when my head fell back in his hands and I was out like a light.

"Hey, pretty girl." Someone was shaking my arm and it was then that I remembered where I was. I opened my eyes to see Seonghwa crouching next to my desk, his eyes warm and sweet like always.

"Did I fall asleep?" I yawned and sat up in my desk, multiple places in my back popping.

"Yeah, you really didn't miss much. I can give you the notes." I looked around at the class and the rest of the students were packing up, getting ready to go to lunch.

"Thanks, Seonghwa." I put my books back in my bag and zipped it up before standing up and putting in on my back. I yawned once more and Seonghwa opened his arms. Without a second thought I went into them and put my ear against his chest, hearing his steady heartbeat. He put his arms around me and held my head to his chest, playing with my hair once again.

I can't imagine how we looked right now. Last night I was telling him that he couldn't pick me up or take my home but without the fear of my dad shadow over my my heart was so open to him. It felt like I had known him for years really, the way it was so easy to talk to him and have him hold me like he does was something that I couldn't wrap my head around.

"Let's go to lunch." He pulled away lightly and turned me around, lightly pushing me to walk towards the door.

"Alright alright I'm going." I groaned and walked faster until his hands fell off my shoulders. He walked next to me and grabbed his backpack straps.

"What are you gonna get? He asked while waving to some guys in the hall.

"I've got some stuff in my bag." I shrugged and looked towards the cafeteria doors. Really I was just going to eat the gummy worms that he have me yesterday. I don't have the luxury of packing a lunch, surprise surprise.

"Alright you wait here and I'll find the gang and lead you there." He smiled and gave me a thumbs up. I was actually grateful that he did that for me. One of my biggest anxieties was trying to find somewhere to sit during lunch. It's not like I had friends to find during lunch.

"Hey sweet cakes." I turned around to find a guy standing there. His hair shagged against his forehead and his blues eyes burned into mine. They were close and unforgiving, it made me take a step back.

"Um, hello?" I looked around for someone to save me but the hallway was empty.

"So are you and Seonghwa a thing?" He put his hands in his jean pockets and leaned against the white wall.

"No." Part of my heart desperately wished that I could say yes but I guess it was for the best.

"Oh that's sweet. Wanna go out back and show me a good time?" He licked his dry lips and looked me up and down.

"No thank you." I took another step back but that prompted him to take a step closer.

"Of come on. You need all those men to satisfy you? I can give you what you want more than those jokers can." He moved a step closer and I put my arms up trying to tell him to keep a distance.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Seonghwa rounded the corner and in two strides he was gently pulling me away from this guy.

"Hey Hwa. I was just offering that sweet piece of ass a good time behind the bleachers. Give the old one two football ritual?" The guy laughed and licked his lips again. I watched as Seonghwa pulled the guy by his shirt and whisper something in his ear. The guys face turned from smug to terrified.

"You ever come near her again I'll break your nose." Seonghwa placed his hand on my shoulder and lead me into the cafeteria.

"That guy was a creep." Seonghwa put his arm fully around me and led me through the cafeteria.

"That's Nate for you. He didn't touch you did he?" Seonghwas eyebrows were firmly set in the middle of his forehead and his jaw was clenched.

"No, I think you got there just in time. I mean I told him no but he just kept coming." I looked up at him and saw that was still looking ahead.

"Its okay. He won't come near you again. And you tell me if anyone does that again, okay?" I nodded and he looked back to guide me to a table in the middle. It was chaos, San, Mingi, and Wooyoung were playing swords with their pencils, Yeosang, Jongho, and Yunho were trying to throw food in each others mouths, and Hongjoong was shaking his head as he watched this all fold out.

"Hey Y/N!" Wooyoung waved and in the process got stabbed in the hand by a pencil. Hitting San has he began to celebrate.

"I'm going to find something to eat, I'll be back." Seonghwa rubbed my head before going to join the small lunch line.

"So, you met Hwa at the arcade?" Yunho stopped throwing his food at Yeosang and Jongho choosing to talk to me instead.

"Yeah, I also met Hongjoong, Wooyoung, and Yeosang." The boys began to turn their heads as I said their names.

"Are you sure you guys didn't know each other before?" Yunho stabbed a grape tomato with his fork and brought it to his mouth and popped it in after he was finished talking.

"No, I don't think so. I just feel really comfortable with you guys." I pulled out the gummy worms from my bag and began to slowly eat them. I can't remember the last time I actually had candy.

"Well, you guys seem very close. Like best friends for years close." San joined in in the conversation while chewing on some of Wooyoungs french fries.

"Guys I'm convinced that the lunch lady has a crush on me." We all laughed and talked through lunch Seonghwa looking down at the candy every so often with a smirk on his face.

Without Seonghwa on my side I found how boring my life actually was. I didn't move from class to class and have friends in each one like most people do, different moments of happiness. I moved through the rest of the school day sluggish and bored without Seonghwa I mean, even Hongjoong or Wooyoung would be an improvement from all these girls whispering in each others ears while looking back at me. Acting like I was some sort of endangered animal that they could just gawk at.

The white walls seemed yellow and the bright red lockers looked crummy and gross without the filter of Seonghwas happiness. I guess I was looking too far into this friendship thing I've never really had a friend before. Having plans after school, having people that enjoy my company, it was all very new to me.

"Y/N!" Wooyoung stopped me in the hallway and threw his arm over my shoulders like Seonghwa does. He was wearing red shorts and a black t-shirt, gym clothes.

"What's up Wooyoung?" I followed him down the hall and watched as more people stared. Honestly it was getting old.

"The basketball coach what's a small practice today so Seonghwa was going to come get you but I offered instead. It's not fair that he gets you all the time." Wooyoung put his head on mine and pouted into my hair. It was really nice to hear that he wanted to spend more time with me, and to be honest I liked how they already argued over my attention. It made my heart beat too fast to be normal.

"I'll try and hang with you more." I put my arm around his wrist and pulled him closer. "So, will I just sit and watch this practice?" The gym was within sight and I saw all the boys bouncing basketballs and shooting hoops it immediately made me feel nervous. I have a really bad reputation and basketballs always seem to find my head like a magnet.

"Yeah, we're just gonna run through some drills and see if they work okay for us." We walked through the doors and Seonghwa looked over and waved with a big smile on his face. "Want me to grab a chair for you?" Wooyoung unraveled his arms from mine and pointed to a closet which, I'm guessing held all the chairs.

"No, I'll pop a squat on the floor. Thanks though!" I dropped my bag on the floor and took out a book, something I just grabbed from the library today, it seemed good enough.

"Alright boys! Balls away let's line up." The coach walked out in skin-tight red shorts and a white shirt, neither left any to the imagination. "Hey kid, are you just here to watch?" He walked over to me a crouched to my level.

"Yeah, my ride is practicing." I pointed to Seonghwa in the lineup and the coach smiled.

"He's a good kid. This shouldn't take too long." He stood up and gave instructions to the boys while I started read the first words of my book.

"Alright! Start running!" He blew the whistle and the boys began running around the gym, occasionally pushing each other because that's what boys do. It was cute watching most of them keep up with boys like Seonghwa and Hongjoong, Mingi sticking out in particular. He was sweating buckets and breathing heavily, for being a tall skinny boy he sure didn't have good endurance and I laughed as Wooyoung hooked an arm around his shoulder encouraging him to go faster.

Seonghwa was doing so well and I finally understood why he was such a star athlete. He ran about 5 laps and he wasn't even breaking a sweat yet, his legs moving effortlessly against the gym floor. He talked with Hongjoong about anything and he wasn't huffing and puffing like I would be if I was in that situation.

After a while the boys stopped running and spread around the gym to stretch and things before the coach distributed pinnies. The old material looking and smelling like death in the musty air. I wished that the coach actually took time and washed them for the boys and for the bystanders. Maybe his mustache covered up the funk and he couldn't smell it. That could be it.

Even as he worked out Seonghwa looked great, which was a heard feat for some people the activity being too much often giving them a red face that is less than attractive, like Nate over there. The boy who stopped me in the hall and was being awfully disgusting was over there with his hands on his knees trying to catch is breath. I think he caught me staring because he straightened up and winked. I could’ve thrown up in my mouth right there and then but Seonghwa came over, refreshing me like a cold glass of water.

“What are you reading?” He tipped the book and looked at the cover, finding the women on the front clearly in distress.

“Something I just picked off of the shelf.” I closed the book slightly and looked up at him. There was something so sweet and protective in his eyes and it made me feel safe from Nate, from my Dad, from the world. He opened his mouth to say something before the coaches words cut through the thick air.

“Park let’s get back in the game!” He smiles at me and taps the tip of my nose with his finger. He gets up and takes the ball from the coach before officially starting the game. I turned back to me book and didn’t pay much attention to the boys anymore, finding their game to be very repetitive and a little boring for my taste.

The book was bringing in so many characters that my head was spinning, the mention of all these characters confusing the mental list in my head. All these people fighting over the main protagonist that really didn't want to have anything to do with these men. She was really ready to just pack up and leave with her younger sister. A princess with a "duty" to her country and her family but she doesn't want to. Just as I was getting into the book I heard someone call my name and I look up to see the ball come soaring towards my face.

"Watch out!" I dropped the book and went to cover my face, ready for the ball to hit me where ever it wanted. There was a loud thud but the pressure wasn't there at all. I slowly opened my eyes and let my hands fall to my lap. Seonghwa was standing in front of me, his back to me while he stared back at the boys.

"Play ball." The coach tried to defuse the situation and held his hands out so Seonghwa could lightly toss the ball to him. He didn't join the game, instead he picked up the book and handed it back to my shaky hands.

"Are you alright?" He crouched down once more to look in my eyes.

"Just a little scared is all." I laughed quietly and just watched as he brought his hand to caress my hair.

"It was Nate, he threw the ball at you." He sighed and just looked into my eyes, trying to gauge my reaction.

"It's okay. Some people are just assholes and that's okay." The words made me think of my father. He was an asshole for no reason and I felt like I was defending him. Every swing he took at my mother and me felt justified by my words.

"But people should pay for their wrong doings." Seonghwa tapped his fingers against my forehead and cheeks causing me to laugh at the ticklish sensation.

"Alright boys, practice is over. Nate stay back with me." The coach blew the whistle and the boys ran away to go change, knocking into each other and slapping backs of heads. Just boy things.

"You can wait outside the bathroom until we're done, okay?" Seonghwa stood up and offered me his hand which I gladly took. He waited while I gathered up all my stuff and I threw my backpack onto my shoulders. He hooked his arm around me like normal and led me to the outside of the changing room.

I held my backpack straps in my hands and took this time to think. I thought about my mom and how much I loved her and I wanted her to have a better life than what she had. It was something that I thought about way too often and when I told my mom that I do think about it she just scoffs and tells me to focus on more important things, like she's not the most important thing in my life.

I thought about Seonghwa and how he made me feel safe and loved and how he is taking care of me even though he doesn't have to. Thinking about how he brought me to this group of people who accepted me even though I'm not rich or not on a sports team. I don't have a Letterman jacket and I don't have fancy clothes and sometimes I wear them two days in a row.

"Hey, are you ready?" His grey turtleneck and black pants were back on and the rest of the boys were filing out of the locker room.

"Yeah." I smiled and followed him to his car. Once we got there he grabbed the bag from my shoulders and threw it in the backseat while I got situated in the front seat.

"So, we've still got a bit of time before the move so we're going to go out to eat." He sat down on the seat and buckled up before starting up the car.

"Seonghwa-"

"Before you say 'I don't have money' I don't care. I'm paying." He pulled out of the school smoothly and started driving.

"You don't have to do that." I gripped my shirt between my fingers and looked out the window, watching all the cars pass by.

"You're stubborn." He chuckled and pulled into a diner it was small and really hidden between the mess of libraries and newspaper outlets. It wasn't that far from school but I don't go out to eat so it wasn't a surprise that I had no idea what the place was.

"The Travelers Diner." I read the sign out loud as we passed by. There was barely any one there so that told me a bit about how popular they were.

"Yeah, Jongho works here on the weekends and let me tell you its super busy. We just missed the dinner rush." Seonghwa pulled into a parking spot and turned off his car, hopping out and running around to my side. He grabbed my hand and helped me out of the car before shutting the door and locking it. My hand was still in his as he led me into the diner and I felt my cheeks and neck heat up at the simple touch.

The patrons were mostly the elderly all of them enjoying an early dinner or a late night cup of coffee. The shop smelt good fresh coffee grounds were being poured into the coffee machine and the grill had sizzling meat on it. The whole atmosphere was warm and cozy, the small chatter between a husband and wife and the old man on the counter lightly humming to the song coming from the boombox behind the counter.

"Seonghwa! Who's it going buddy?" A man with an apron cane from behind the counter and have Seonghwa a deep hug. He was much older then the both of us but he seemed ecstatic to see his friend. He had to be about 40 and he had a bit of a guy but it really suited the vibe of this place.

"I've been amazing how about you, Sergio?" Seonghwa pulled away and joined hands with me once more, not even parted for a minute.

"Business is booming thanks to you. I'm still waiting on that picture." He laughed and grabbed two menus from the counter.

"You don't have to do that. I'm just here to help." Sergio led the way to the tables and Seonghwa pulled me along behind him while I let the situation sink in. I was going out to eat for the first time since I could remember.

"I was going bankrupt and you swooped in and saved the day. I owe my success to you, kid." He set down the menus and smiled at us, before walking back behind the counter and into the kitchen.

"Who's that?" I looked around the table and saw small little designs that made me smile. The table was a bright red and had a small black border along the inside. 'Jake' was messily carved into the middle and in could just imagine the boy taking a knife and marking his territory.

"His names Sergio. Family friend." Seonghwa smiled before bringing the menu up to his face, searching over what they had. I really already knew what I wanted and it was definitely not meatloaf. I

"Hey kids. What can I get you to drink?" A middle-aged woman came over wearing a bright red uniform and a tag that read 'Cindy'. She was smiling and smacking on some bubblegum as she brought out her notepad.

“I’ll get a Dr. Pepper.” He smiled at Cindy and then turned to me.

“I’ll get the same with a lemon please.” I remember hearing some kids say that Dr. Pepper was super good with lemon and now would probably be they only time to get to try it so I might as well.

“Alright and are y’all ready to order?” She looked up form her pad and looked to Seonghwa.

“I’ll have whatever the chef’s special is today.” He put down the menu and nodded to me.

“I’ll have a cheeseburger with everything on it and the waffle fries with a side of ranch.” I looked to Seonghwa and he smiled back at me, nodding slightly at my choice.

“Alright kids. It’ll be right out for you.” She took the menus and went behind the counter to put the order in.

The diner was great. Seonghwa and I talked about anything and everything, the socializing bringing back a side of me that I couldn’t remember existed. I almost made Seonghwa spit soda out of his nose at least six times with all the jokes I was cracking all while actually having my first cheeseburger. We laughed until the sun was setting and we were heading out the door to join the rest at the movies.

The laughing didn’t stop at the diner and it carried on into the car, him talking about funny stories with his parents and me adding onto that with funny stories at my old school, choosing not to talk about my parents. We pulled into the entryway of the movies and he purchased two tickets for Alien.

“So is this movie like really scary?” I looked around the parking spots and saw Yeosang and Mingi waving their arms in the air, telling Seonghwa to park there.

“I’m really not sure. I heard that it’s scary but I didn’t have them go into detail.” He put the car in park and turned the station that the attendant said the movie would be on.

“What took you guys so long?” Hongjoong rolled down his window and hooked his arm out of it.

“We went to grab a bite to eat.” Seonghwa had me roll down my window so he could talk with Hongjoong.

“And you didn’t invite us?” Wooyoungs voice cute through the wind and he went over to my window.

“Yeah, it was just Y/N and me.” Seonghwa smiled and then rolled down his window, Mingi knocking on it lightly. The boys were so excited, the sun had set and the screen was flickering to life. Seonghwa had us roll up our windows and turned the air conditioning on a low blast. The movie started and I immediately curled up into the seat, listening the beginnings of the movie.

I can’t remember how long it’s been but I just remember leaning into Seonghwa more and more, the events of the movie getting scarier and scarier. Baby aliens were popping out of peoples stomachs and I just couldn’t handle it. I jumped and pushed my head into Seonghwas neck, wrapping my arms around his torso. I squeezed my eyes shut and just listened to the sounds of the mans stomach popping open,

“Hey pretty girl it’s okay. It’s just a movie.” His hands came around my shoulders and ran his hand through my hair. He turned down the radio and brought his lips to my hair, running them across the smooth expanse of my head.

“I know, I know.” I pulled away from his neck looking back at the movie only to turn away again. I laughed against his chest and rolled my eyes, I was being so stupid. It was really just a movie. The sounds of the movie played quietly in the background but I decided to focus on his heartbeat which was faster than normal, probably because he was scared.

“Hey, Y/N?” Seonghwa was rubbing small circles onto my back and occasionally my arms, traveling around a bit.

“Yes?” I looked up to him and I found that he was already looking at me. His hand snaked up to my cheek and held the flesh gently in his hand. He was looking at my eyes watching as I flicked them from his eyes, to his nose, and finally to his plump lips. They turned up into a small smirk and my cheeks heated up at the fact that he caught me looking at his lips. Part of me just wanted to lunge forward and connect our lips but I didn’t want to misread the feelings in the air. Maybe he was just laughing at me because I was scared of the dumb movie, or maybe he was laughing at me cause I actually thought he maybe likes me.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as he brought his lips onto mine. The soft flesh melding together as my stomach turned in circles. Butterflies had infected my belly and they had taken flight after being dormant for so long. It was nothing like I had ever felt before, his lips moving lightly against mine virtually showing me what to do and I just kind of went with it. Our mouths were moving together naturally now, messily bumping noses as we turned our heads to follow the other. He pulled away and set his forehead on mine breathing onto my face as he settled down.

“I’ve wanted to do that ever since I met you.” He chuckled and held my head in his hands.

“Seonghwa, please don’t leave me.” I let my words fly as I let my head fall to his shoulder.

“I could never.” He held me and turned up the radio, hearing the terrible screams of the people that were dying on the spaceship.

After the movie we all waved to each other through the windows and one by one we all pulled away when traffic presented the opportunity. Seonghwa could not stop smiling throughout the drive home and I couldn’t help but watch as he gently bobbed his head along the songs to the radio. The silence felt comforting like something big had happened and we both needed a moment to let it settle in.

“I wanted to thank you for tonight, Seonghwa. I don’t get to do this a lot.” We pulled into my driveway and I instantly felt all the blood drain from my face. My dad was sitting on the porch, a bottle of something hanging from his hand.

“Y/N,” Seonghwas whole mood instantly changed. His voice got quieter and darker, all while watching my dad on the porch lightly sway back and forth. “Don’t go in.” Seonghwas hands were braced on the steering wheel and he didn’t look at me. I watch the side of his face as his eyebrows scrunching in discomfort.

“Seonghwa you don’t understand.” I clicked the seat belt and grabbed the door handle to leave but he grabbed my knee.

“If I let you go in that house right now, are you going to come out?” He finally looked at me and I saw the tears that were threatening to spill from the corner of his eye.

“What are you taking about?” I played dumb. He couldn’t know about my family, nobody knew.

“Y/N, I know what your father does to you and your mother.” He took a breath and squeezed my knee lightly. “My mother told me who you were.” My dad had gotten up from the porch and was waving me inside.

“I can’t stay here. My mother.” I opened the door and let his hand slip from my knee, even if it was the last time I ever got to touch him I had to take that chance for my mother.

“Where have you been?” My dad grabbed the back of my arm and drug me inside, the flesh of my arm already beginning to sting.

“Dad you don’t understand.” I gripped his wrist and tried to alleviate the pain that was steadily getting worse.

“Do you think I’m stupid? I knew that boy dropped you off last night. You didn’t think to tell him to leave you alone? Am I not good enough?” He threw me on the ground and slammed the door. My mom was in the kitchen sobbing over the sink.

“N-No. I told him no but he came anyways.” I put my hands up as he brought his foot down against my side.

“Anything to get away from dear old dad.” He smashed the bottle on the ground and used both of his hands to land punches to my head.

“Derek stop!” My mother ran over and pushed my father onto the ground, part of his leg landing on the broken glass. My mom pulled me away and caressed my face shushing me into a calm state, the tears still running down my face. My dad got up and spit onto the floor.

“You bitch!” He went to charge at me and my mother but the door swung open causing him to stop and look.

“No!” Seonghwa threw his hands around my dads waist, tackling him to the floor. I saw the tussle of bodies and I couldn’t see what was happening beyond the flood of tears. I turned my head into my mothers neck and sobbed as I heard the sound of bones cracking and the sound of flesh against flesh.

“Derek?” My mother called for him and let go of me. I opened my eyes as Seonghwa was sitting on the ground his knuckles bloody and his nose was dripping blood down into his open mouth.

“Seonghwa!” I crawled over to him and held his face in my hands. He was still occupied with my father like he was waiting to see if he would get up and begin the fight again. He was holding his right wrist in his hand flexing it back and forth to see if any damage had been severely done.

“Are you okay?” He stopped looking at my father and turned to me, his expression solemn. It was his turn to hold me head in his hands as he looked at the damage that had been done to my face. It wasn’t much just some minor bruising here and there but it really hurt like a bitch.

“I’m fine,” I took a breath and closed my eyes trying to calm my heart down. “Why did you do that?” I sat back on my heels and let him look at me, his eyes softening and filling with tears.

“I don’t want you here anymore. The police are on their way and they’ll be taking him into custody. I want you and your mom to stay with me for a while. Just until he is put in jail for good.” The words were coming out of his mouth and zooming right over my head. He wanted me to come with with him? The police were on their way? So many things were happening at once so I just nodded.

“Mrs. Y/L/N, can you go pack your stuff please, we’ll be leaving. The police are going to talk to you at my house.” He stood up and took me hand, helping me off the ground with ease. my stomach clenched and I cradled my bruising ribs.

“Okay.” She shakily got up and slowly walked up the stairs, her hands shaking by her sides.

“Why did you do that?” I turned to him as he watched my dad. He looked back, his nose was going off to the right a little and his eyes was beginning to swell shut. The blood was running down his face and accumulating into the alcohol and glass mixture on the ground. His pant legs was torn and he had a big gash on the side of this leg, the glass sticking out in parts. he really wasn’t getting up even if he wanted to.

“Y/N, I thought he was going to kill you.” He didn’t look in my eye, a thing that he did when the situation was serious.

“Seonghwa we would have been fine.” I felt tears prick my eyes again, the trail on my cheek becoming warm again. “You don’t understand what you’ve done. My dad is very powerful and he knows people you can’t even dream of.” My voice got louder and louder the fear in it increasing every second.

“Y/N.” His voice brought a light warning .

“You don’t understand what you’ve done. He’s going to kill you!” I pushed him and beat my fist onto his chest until he caught them in his hands and pulled me close. His hand flew to my hair and gently rubbed soothing circles.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to be afraid, he’s not going to hurt you anymore.” He let me cry into his shoulder and to be honest I really didn’t want to do anything else. I was able to cry and finally be comforted in the night without being told to be quiet or my father might hear.

“He hurt you.” I looked up at his face and grabbed his cheek for comfort. His nose had stopped bleeding and the dried just stuck to his face like a tattoo.

“Listen to me, I don’t care who hurts me or beats me up. He could’ve broken my arm and I would still fight for you.” He pulled away and held my shoulders. “I will protect you.” He pulled me back in and held me once more. Sirens in the background telling everyone that something went down.

“Police!” A man in a dark uniform came in with a pistol, “Search the house!” I let Seonghwa hold me in his arms as they passed around us, going through the house, trying to find anything else to put my dad away. My mother came down the stairs with two bags on her shoulders.

“Can you all please step outside. We’re going to have to do some thorough searches in those bag in case he decided to hide anything in them.” Another police officer came through the door and held out his hand. My mother nodded and handed over the bags without a fuss. Police after police showed up at my door and began searching the house.

“You know their going to bring you to the hospital, right?” Seonghwa put his hand around my shoulder and rubbed my arms.

“We can’t pay for that.” I put my head on his shoulder and shook my head. As if on cue an ambulance pulled up into the driveway, next to all the police cars and pulled out a gurney.

“Don’t fight them please. I don’t wanna have to hold you back.” He laughed and started leading me over the ambulances. Another ambulance pulled up and one of the police officers lead my mother to it, she was limping clinging to the officer.

“You’re Y/N Y/L/N?” They pulled me away from Seonghwa and put me on the gurney, more tears rolling down my cheeks.

According to doctors I’ve made some miraculous recoveries, my body healing my fabulously. I guess this time they could help me. Seonghwas injuries weren’t as severe as mine so they just wiped off his nose and gave him some ibuprofen, telling him to use his right arm as little as possible. His mom was on his way and they were going to take me and my mother home with them. A police officer came in and told me that my father was officially behind bars. He had a broken nose, a broken arm, and a couple of bruised ribs from when Seonghwa tackled him.

“What did the officer say?” I was laying on a crisp white hospital bed, my light blue gown covering everything nicely.

“He told me that I had a nice right hook.” Seonghwa chuckled and pulled the boring brown chair over to the edge of my bed.

“You aren’t getting charged with anything?” I put my hand out and he took it gingerly.

“No. The only one getting charged is your father and I’m making sure he gets put away.” Seonghwa pulled my hand to his mouth kissing each finger before intertwining our hands together.

“And my mother?” I closed my eyes and let the tears well in my eyes. I’ve cried way too much today, over Seonghwa, over my father, and multiple things hitting me at the same time. Today was the day that I let myself feel everything, all the hurt and heartache that me and my mother had to go through.

“She’ll be okay. She still has wounds that need to heal so she’ll be here but you’re coming home with me.” I could hear the smile in his voice and I let the tears fall.

“I love you.” I squeeze his hand and hope that I didn’t scare him off. I couldn’t deal with anything if he left me here. I wasn’t scared of commitment but he may be, most boys were at this age.

“I love you too. And I’ll be here to make sure nothing ever hurts you again.” We sat in the hospital room holding each other until the sun came up and we headed home.

#ateez #kang yeosang #kim hongjoong #song mingi #park seonghwa #jung yunho #choi jongho #choi san #jung wooyoung #ateez smut #park seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa smut

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general-fox-hux · 4 years

Text

Fic [6/?]

Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, post-TLJ (TFA and TLJ-compliant, TRoS will be ignored), except it’s Modern AU with magic and magical creatures

Category: Gen

Warnings: canon-typical violence; Rey’s attachment issues

Relationships: Armitage Hux and Rey (NOT Reyux)

Characters: Rey; Armitage Hux; Leia Organa; Rose Tico; Finn; Poe Dameron; Kylo Ren

Additional ‘tags’: fox!Armitage Hux; fox spirit!Armitage Hux; witch!Kylo Ren; witch!Rey

Please note:

some TRoS elements, like new characters, may appear in the future;

warnings may change and there will be chapter-specific warnings

I’m still torn about which ships are going to appear (as a side part of the story AND as a main ship) if they will, so if you’re concerned about a sudden ship happening that you don’t like, feel free to send me an ask

Summary:

Witch Kylo Ren turns fox spirit Hux into a regular fox and sends him to spy on Rey.

Rey tries very hard not to get attached to the ‘stray’ that found her.

Hux must fight his fox instincts, his hatred towards the Resistance, and his own empathy. Oh no!

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

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Hours pass and turn into days. Rey works her five a.m. to one p.m. shifts, then rushes for her two p.m. – eight p.m. classes. At home, she’s too hungry, cold, and tired to concentrate on studying or practicing her magic skills. Maintaining the protective ball around herself and blocking the cursed connection to Kylo Ren is starting to prove difficult. She almost wishes Snoke was still alive so that she could make him take it away.

She worries and feels guilty that she’s not feeding the fox properly, but she can’t seem to find any “Missing fox” posters, nor does anyone respond to her “Found” advertisements. She’s starting to wonder if feeding Gingerball food scavenged from a trash bin would be too risky for his health.

After almost a full week of taking care of him, she resigns herself to research on fox rescue foundations. Her heart is breaking every time she opens one of their on-line pages, all saved in her browser’s bookmarks while she struggles to decide on the best option, because Gingerball, as mean as he can be, has been a really sweet and extremely well-behaved pet, all things considered.

Despite what Rey’s research on foxes had told her, Gingerball never dug any holes in the couch and never once peed in his bowls or anywhere in the flat, even that one time she had to leave him there for full seventeen hours – well, it was his own fault, really, because he refused to get out on his second day at hers. And frankly, he’s never made that same mistake again. She smiles fondly at the memory of his frantic whining that greeted her then, how they both rushed to the main door so she could let him out, and how he somehow looked almost humiliated after she let him back into the building.

Gingerball also keeps her warm at nights, laying still and close to her, even though he’s a nocturnal creature, and lets her pet his soft, soft fur most of the times. The meanest he gets is screaming at her loudly sometimes, sitting with his back towards her, and breaking into the bathroom every evening to stand in the bathtub and bark at her as she’s brushing her teeth. Well, that last one is more weird than mean, but still annoying.

She loves the way he watches the screen of her phone or her laptop every time she’s doing something on them, like he gives a damn about her mundane activities.

He’s out now, so she opens the rescue foundations bookmarks again; she couldn’t bring herself to read through them while Gingerball looked, as crazy as it sounds. Three organisations claim their shelters are full, one requires payment for transport of the fox, and one has some negative reviews on the forums.

Sighing, Rey starts looking for more options, cursing herself for not contacting one of the foundations that are now unavailable earlier, due to her prolonged hesitation. Kylo Ren accused her, not so long ago, of being unable of letting go and not seeing things she doesn’t want to see. She’s self-aware enough to admit he was right. Of course, that changes nothing when it comes to her unwillingness of joining him.

Rey has to admit that she’s lonely, too, and that loneliness does bother her. No, it eats her alive. She was lonely during all the years she spent in Jakku. Then, she found Finn and Han and Chewie and Leia, and they all embraced her like she belonged. But Kylo Ren murdered Han and Rey had to leave, so she could bring Luke back home.

She was so very hopeful that Luke would greet her with his arms open, but him shutting the door in her face, literally and metaphorically, broke her and, she knows that now, left her more vulnerable than ever, so that with Kylo Ren’s connection to her getting stronger, she became almost defenceless against his manipulations. Because, with that connection, she wasn’t alone anymore and there was Ben, lonely and hurting, that she could save from the First Order, from Snoke, and from Kylo Ren. Ben who understood her better than anyone, who knew her weaknesses and didn’t shame her for them, who wasn’t afraid of the Darkness in her like Luke was, who saw her at her worst and said, ‘You are not nothing, to me.’

She now recognises the gaslighting for what it was. He, Kylo Ren or Ben, actually said, ‘You are nothing. But not to me,’ implying that’s what everyone but him thought of her. Maybe he even believed so.

But then, she reunited with Leia and Finn, met Poe and Rose, and she felt and received so much love that she’s been overwhelmed, ecstatic and scared for the whole few weeks they spent together.

Now, it is actually Kylo Ren who’s keeping her lonely again: Finn, Poe, and Rose were sent on a mission that could be jeopardised by Rey’s connection to the new Supreme Leader of the First Order. Is it really so strange that she now clings to the little fox that found her?

Rey wipes at her eyes trying not to think about her friends and focus on doing what’s best for Gingerball. She can’t keep selfishly him if she doesn’t have the means to provide him with basic care.

Clearing her throat, Rey focuses on reading another’s foundation’s information. What she learns makes her blood run cold.

Apparently, foxes bond to their owners quite strongly and forming a new bond is difficult for them, meaning that if Rey gives Gingerball away he might never find a new home again, because he simply won’t let anyone close to him.

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Rey saves the page in her bookmarks and closes the laptop. She needs to think this through. What could have possibly happened to the fox’s previous owner? Why did Gingerball bond to her so easily? Maybe he is special in that way?

She walks out of her flat and down the stairs to open the building’s main door. Sure enough, a blurry ball of ginger fur rushes in and speeds upstairs not looking back. ‘Nice to see you, too,’ Rey mutters, amused.

When she catches up with Gingerball, who’s sitting in front of her door looking, for lack of better word, smug, she notices there’s something lying on the floor right before his paws. Too colourful to be a dead animal.

‘Whatcha got there?’

He chirps, ears twitching backwards and his tail swaying gently.

‘You look quite pleased with yours― Oh my god.’ Rey stares at Gingerball’s find. It looks like a packet, no, two packets of instant noodles and a piece of plastic-wrapped meat. ‘Where did you get it from?’

Another chirp.

‘No, don’t try to be cute. You stole it, am I right? You’re a little shoplifter, aren’t you?’

Gently, the fox closes his teeth on one of the instant noodles packet and brings it over, lying it down at Rey’s feet.

‘For me? What the hell, fox?’ she hisses. ‘Your owner taught you to steal food for them? What kind of weirdo does that?’

More tail swaying.

‘No. No, you’re going to put it all back where you found it,’ Rey tells him firmly. She picks up the fox’s find and pushes it all under his nose. ‘Take it back to the shop,’ she orders. He turns his head to the side. ‘Okay,’ says Rey bending at her waist and grabbing him by the collar, ‘you will show me to where you found these.’ She gives a little tug. ‘Come on.’

‘AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!! AAAAAAAAHHH!!!’

Rey lets go of the collar as if burned. ‘Okay, okay, shhhh, shh, alright. It’s okay. Don’t scream.’ She strokes his head gently. ‘It’s not your fault your owner is a weirdo.’ She kneels. ‘Your offering has been accepted,’ she proclaims and hugs him. ‘Thank you. Let’s get inside. And please, don’t scream. We don’t want the neighbours to think someone in the building is being murdered.’

Three soft chirps.

#POV Rey #fox!Hux fic

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luciana-galvez · 5 years

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rockstars & runaways | part 1

Nikki and Kat go way back, but with his issues and her family history, finding their way back together is a long and rocky road. And with the rockstar life, what’s the hurry anyway?

Fandom: The Dirt

Words: 2.1k

Pairing: Nikki Sixx x OC

Warnings: Nothing, as of now. Angst maybe?

Note: I’m basing this on the fictionalized version of the characters. This is an ongoing story. This is also my first OC story on tumblr, which is exciting! Feedback is always welcome!

1984

It had been over two years since she had last seen Nikki. Two years, eight months, and fifteen days to be exact, not that she was counting. She remembered the last time better than she liked, and there was still that small pang of guilt that gnawed at her whenever she thought about it.

Not that she hadn’t had valid reason to leave. She had been in LA for too long already, but when she met the broken boy that was almost as angry at the world as she was, the part of her that was longing for connection convinced her that it was okay to stay for just a little longer. Just a couple of weeks.

And the weeks turned into months. It would have turned into years if she wouldn’t have had that close call that almost rendered all her years of running irrelevant, so when she eventually left, she did it in the most cowardly way possible, and the only way she knew how — she ran.

She did leave a note, but she knew it didn’t make up for sneaking out while Nikki was passed out after a long night jamming with the boys and an even longer night partying.

So when she saw the poster for Mötley Crüe playing in Boston a couple of weeks ago, she was shell-shocked. She hadn’t seen their faces for so long that she even doubted her own sanity for a brief second, but even back then she had known they were good. She had known they would become big. She just hadn’t expected it so soon.

She also knew that she had to go, no matter how bad an idea it was.

So she went.

She stood in the back during the concert, watching them go wild on stage with a feeling that was half pride and half jealousy. She longed for their familiarity and it felt like the weight of knowing she missed out on everything that happened wouldn’t leave her anytime soon.

After the show she had lingered outside for long enough to overhear one of the roadies mention which club the band was headed, and she was on her way there not long after. Now she was skimming though the crowd of people that all wanted to party with Mötley Crüe and cursed under her breath whenever someone would bump into her.

But the longer she looked, the more she realized they might not actually be here. The roadie could have mixed up the name of the club, the band might have gotten distracted by the nearest strip club, or they might have just as well taken the bus straight to their next stop instead.

She had gone into this night knowing it was a bad idea, but realizing that it might not be in her hands if she actually got to see him was so crushing that she needed a moment to steady herself. Leaning against the nearest wall, she closed her eyes and went through her mental checklist, as she always did when she got anxiety.

Breathing in. She was in Boston. Breathing out. Her name was Charlene. Breathing in. At least that’s what her current ID said. Breathing out. She was 23 years old. Breathing in. Nothing had happened in 2 years, 8 months and 16 days. Breathing out. She was safe, she was safe, she was safe.

She was pulled from her thoughts when a crowd of girls started screaming so loudly that she felt the roof must be coming down, and it didn’t take long for her to find the source of the commotion. Across the room, which was so clouded with cigarette smoke that it was surprising there was any visibility at all, the band had just walked in through the front door, and the crowd was going wild.

She watched as Vince locked arms with the closest girl that threw herself at him and Mick beelined past him straight to the bar. Tommy came in next, and his expression was so full of pure joy and excitement that it was hard to combine the picture with the out-of-control-rockstar that she saw on stage just an hour earlier.

And then she saw Nikki.

Instead of his glamourous stage outfit he was now wearing a plain black tank top, and the horizontal black paint under his eyes was smudged. There was a smile playing on his lips as well, but he wasn’t glowing nearly as much as Tommy. He grabbed the drink of someone standing close to him, downed it in one go, haphazardly threw the empty glass at someone else, and continued walking to the bar as well.

For a moment she felt frozen. She had been so nervous about seeing Nikki, about seeing all of them really, that she hadn’t thought about what would actually happen when she found them. What would she say? What could she even say in this situation?

She forced herself to put one foot in front of the other and slowly approached the bar, where the whole band was now lined up, thirstily finishing their first drinks. Each of them had at least one girl next to them, and she watched with an even bigger twist in her stomach as Nikki readily and happily flirted back with the blonde next to him.

She eventually came to a stop ten feet away from the bar when the lump in her throat became too big and she had to press her palms against her thighs to stop them from shaking. She felt utterly lost. The thought to just turn around and leave crossed her mind. She had seen them now, seen Nikki and seen that he’s doing alright. That should be enough, right?

She was just about to turn on her heels when she locked eyes with Tommy. It took a moment, but when he realized who he was looking at, the grin disappeared out of his face instantly. It took him even longer to break through the daze and move, stretching his long arm past Vince to tap Nikki on the shoulder. Before she could prepare herself, Tommy had Nikki’s attention and pointed towards her.

When Nikki’s eyes found her, his expression vanished from his face right away. He simply stared at her for a moment, but before she could think about what to say, he turned away and headed straight for the exit, his posture so tense that it felt like he might bend and snap any second. She released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and hurriedly followed him outside.

She moved out the door just in time to see his black mop of hair disappearing into a side alley and jogged after him. When she turned the corner, she found Nikki bent over, his palms pressed against the stone wall.

“What the fuck?” he exclaimed when he saw her, straightening up and facing her. The expression in his face had turned to pure rage.

“Nikki,” she started, but he wasn’t done.

“No, don’t ‘Nikki’ me! Three sentences,” he snapped. “You left with three sentences on a goddamn napkin! He found me. I had to leave. I’m sorry. I thought you were dead in a fucking ditch.”

“Not yet,” she said softly, with a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Nikki simply stared at her, disbelievingly. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“You knew it would happen eventually,” she said, her voice still soft.

“Then why show up again now? Saw that we were getting rich and famous and wanted a piece of it?”

He might as well have slapped her. In fact, slapping her would have hurt less.

“You’re right,” she managed to say eventually. “This was a bad idea.” And with that, she turned around and walked away.

As she walked, she balled her hand into fists so violently that she felt her nails digging into her skin. She didn’t know what she had expected, but she knew it wasn’t this kind of rage, and it was hard to swallow the disappointment she felt. She managed to get halfway down the street before she heard him call after her.

“Kat,” he shouted, and when she didn’t stop, followed it up with another, “Kat!”

She finally stopped but needed a moment to compose herself before turning around. Nikki was slowly walking up to where she was, and the anger had been replaced by an expression Kat couldn’t quite identify.

He eventually came to a halt right in front of her. “Nikki,” she started, but he interrupted her right away.

“Shut up,” he said, and for the first time there was no malice in his voice. He almost sounded like the Nikki she knew a couple of years ago.

And before she knew it, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, one hand on her back and one gently pressing against the back of her head. It took her a moment before she managed to reciprocate the movement, and when she did she didn’t know if she would be able to let him go again.

Nikki was strong and warm and familiar, and she instantly regretted showing up tonight because now it would be so much harder to leave again. She wrapped her arms around him a little tighter, holding on for as long as she could.

“I thought you were dead,�� he repeated, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

1980

The Starwood was a shabby place. The floor was constantly sticky no matter how often it was mopped, the air was stagnant, it was constantly dark, and let’s not even start about the bathrooms.

Kat loved every bit of it.

She had managed to talk the owner into giving her an off-the-books cleaning job a couple of weeks earlier. Most of the customers were rude or too drunk to care when she stayed until the shows, and the other employees didn’t pay her any mind. Kat relished being there.

At night, when the live music turned out all the other noises around, she felt more alive than she had in a long time, maybe ever.

She was currently unsuccessfully mopping the floor of the concert room, trying to avoid thinking about how many bodily fluids and alcohol had mixed up to create this particular kind of superglue. Moving backwards across the room, the was taken aback when she bumped into someone and jumped in surprise.

It was one of the other guys working here, currently picking up stray trash, but it was the first time she got a closer look at him. He was skinny and tall, and his messy dark black hair was almost bigger than his head itself.

“Relax,” he uttered at her reaction, and made to turn away.

“Aren’t you the guy from the band yesterday?” Kat asked, furrowing her eyebrows. She hadn’t made the connection before, but looking at him closely, she noticed the familiarity. When he didn’t answer, she added “London?”

“Yeah,” he answered offhandedly, continuing to pick up trash. Kat’s task, however, was forgotten. She leaned on her mop and watched him, noticing that he was ever so slightly hunching, and his eyes were smaller than they should be. Hungover, she bet.

“Why are you working at the club your band plays at?” she prodded.

“Believe it or not, I have bills to pay.” He didn’t even try to mask his annoyance.

Kat grinned. “Okay, Rockstar.”

When she didn’t seem to get back to work, he eventually stopped as well and properly looked up, his eyes moving from her small face over her hair down to her body.

“You’re new,” he said eventually. It wasn’t a question.

“Observant.”

For the first time, a small smirk played on his face, and he looked a little less hungover and a little more pretty.

“I’m Nikki,” he said after a moment.

“Okay, Rockstar,” Kat repeated, and then she turned around and went back to mopping the floor.

“That’s where you introduce yourself.”

“Is it?” she asked without turning back to him. She hoped he couldn’t hear the grin in her voice.

But before Nikki could say anything else, the manager of Starwood appeared in the doorway. “Kat!” he bellowed, and Kat cringed.

“I’ll be right there,” she told Gary before eventually turning back to Nikki with a resigned expression.

“Kat, huh?” he grinned.

“Well,” she shrugged, “I tried.”

Without waiting for a reply, she turned around and headed to the door. “So long, Rockstar.”

Before she turned the corner into the hallway, she allowed herself on last glance back. Nikki had gone back to cleaning up, and his back was turned to her. She grinned.

Oh, this would be interesting.

#the dirt #the dirt imagine #the dirt fanfiction #nikki sixx #nikki sixx imagine #nikki sixx x reader #legit no idea what to tag this #fanfiction #imagine

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baskervilleshund · 5 years

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4,5 years of Gotham in my life♥

Wow my emotions these last days. I’m not much of a text poster on this site but when Gotham ended I really felt I wanted to write this!

Gotham has been a huge part of my life for so long now. 4 years and 7 months since the first episode aired, that’s some time gosh. And so much has happened during this journey! I just wanna mention some memorable things during these years. Like remember the pre-s02x09 excitement?? And other stuffs, ah here we go!

The first trailer made me SO EXCITE, I had wanted more batman villains content for years since I have always found the batman villains squad so interesting and good and unique characters, there is so much to explore here! And so the Gotham trailer came and I just OH MY GOD this is exactly what I want!! And so it started and it was amazing. My first love was Ed, it took him his first scene in ep1 to make me go totally THIS IS MY FAV! More eps went on and I required more Ed content. But then Oswald slowly grew on me kinda out of nowhere like I wasn’t expecting it. And when amazing ep7 aired it just hit down on me from the sky, like it does when I know I got a new obsession/fandom. Oswald’s amazing scenes in ep7 and I went ”Okay this is it, I’M DEEP INTO THIS NOW AND I LOVE IT!”. In exactly THIS↓ scene/moment I basically said those words out loud and realized this is my life now, ugh also one of my fav looks I miss the bangs:

Shortly after ep7 I started shipping Nygmobblepot, since we knew who these characters were and who they will end up being it made SO much sense in this show, they were like the two familiar main villains in kinda the same age and I also loved them both so I mean it was obvious for me. Man in the beginning we were so very few in the shipping Nygmob pond, in the OCEAN of Gobblepot. It was a bit of a struggle sometimes, ppl wrote hate on my Nygmob posts n stuff shrug. And I just didn’t get how not more ppl could see it? It would make more sense if this were new characters like they hadn’t even met but since we knew this is Riddler and Penguin it just was fate for them to cross paths soon enough! We needed Nygmob content! I started making tons of my own AU:s since if the show wouldn’t give us content I would do it.

BUT we had Robin & Cory with us! Reminder that Cory invented the shipname after 5 minutes and Robin & Cory’s amazing twitter activity during s1 especially I will always remember as a fav. Remember when they we’re so into roleplaying Nygmob and spoke how Ed & Os loved each other and all sorts of things. All about going to The Foxglove together and stuff. Ugh it was amazing, I miss their interactions.

In this very smol pond is when one day my shining star @conscience-killer (aka okimi79) approached me, with this ♥ ”Sometimes I feel we’re the only Nygmobblepot shippers in the world…well apart from Robin and Cory. We should have a secret handshake or something.”

And man did we get a secret handshake! Gosh MY DEAR OKIMI! That I up til this day since then has spoken with like everyday for 4,5 years, you are amazing ♥ And in that time of so few shippers it felt even more special, to have someone else out there as obsessed as me. I’m so grateful we found each other at exactly that time and we’ve been through so much on this journey ♥.

When Nygmob in spring finally had their first scene it was so amazing and I have no idea how many times I have watched that scene to this day, and also with that the ship grew a bit yas!!

Let’s jump forward a bit. NYC Comic Con 2015 in fall, one of my fav Robin & Cory cons/interview times! Because the legendary ep 2x9 was soon upon us and OMG remember how excite they were in those interviews!?! And THEN, that fkn night THE episode aired. I couldn’t believe it was real, it was EVERYTHING we had dreamed of!!! SO MUCH NYGMOB CONTENT and so in character and gosh. Man their season 2 relationship is just so beautiful and I love it til this day and 2x9 is forever my favorite episode because it meant EVERYTHING for us shippers and more people also started seeing the connection between Nygmob and so more ppl started to make content and join in!

A time after another shining star came into my life, @constant-sinner (aka (riddlelvr) ♥ This amazing person and artist! And together with her and okimi I am part of the best trash family of three and I can’t believe I’ve been a mom (yet i’m the youngest but i’m fashion fur coat mom okay) to these trash sinners for like 4 years. ♥

Okay but remember all INSANE SMAYLOR CONTENT BEFORE SEASON 3!!? Man that was also one of the best times I had during these years. God they were so excite for their relationship in s3 and WEREN’T WE ALL! And omg Comic Con. I had my fkn header for 3 years soon lol, man that moment I remember seeing the signing booth stream all casual and Robin & Cory goes “Smaaylor!! Nygmobblepot!!! ;))” And I’m just wait WHUT omg. Their press tours with Sean is something I’ll miss even more than the episodes, always such a joy seeing those three together!

And when season 3 started it was just insane. To be honest how their relationship grew in s3 that’s how I expected it to grow after their meeting in s1, it made sense already back then. Ed admiring Oswald and sneaking to his club and Oswald would be a huge part of Ed’s journey to become the Riddler but ah well, I did my best with my AU:s back then!

And then s3 came and Gotham EXPLODED and I had no idea where all million ppl suddenly came from lol. It became huge. But since it still feels kinda close to this day (2,5 yrs though man), my most nostalgic feels will always be over s1-2 so I’m not gonna write so much about the season 3-5 times in this text. My closest to heart milestones is during the first years and now that I’ve seen all episodes I still think season 1 is the best overall, except the lack of Nygmob content ofc ;)

I’ve not just felt love for the show ofc, the show isn’t perfect. There has been serious flaws and bad writing and plot drops. Tbh s4 I just felt so NOPE about? 22 eps of waste…Like Ed’s plot for example like he barley had his own plot what happened? And we also have the q*eerbait Nygmob issue obviously. I have also felt the show has been a bit childish being -helloo- GOTHAM city we’re talking about? I think it would have been much better off with a MA-rating tbh to properly tell certain stories. After s4 though I’m glad in s5 Nygmob finally got some proper screen time being together and in character!! Like that’s how their relationship should have been from beginning of season 4, or season 1 if u ask me lol but ya know!

BUT I LOVE THIS SHOW, the amazing actors and characters and scenery and costumes!! Ed, Oswald, Robin & Cory will ofc always have the most special place in my heart ♥ The Nygmob journey in the show has meant so much to me to follow it from day one and I never knew how much this show would mean to me when I started back in the day.

This show. And not just the show itself but my journey and life around it!!? So much has happened. For one example I had made a bit of gifs before but Gotham really got me into gif making, and it’s been a joy sharing content and my Nygmob AU will always be among my most fun things I’ve done, it was like if they ain’t gonna give us enough content I WILL. It’s a fun way of gif making to manip scenes to create something new! And today I still enjoy making gifs, as you probably know heh. Thanks so much for all nice comments and reblogs through all these years ya’ll!! It warms my heart and I love to read reblog tags!

I have been at con and got to meet Robin, enjoyed so many interviews and promos, chatted with wonderful people. Every Friday night I have been up in my Europe timezone at 2am to live watch the show, the workdays after has been a bit of a struggle of being tired with going to bed like 5am lol but man it’s been so nice to follow it when it airs!

Watching together with my dearest @conscience-killer and @constant-sinner . Two of the best that happened to me during these years. These two people that I’ve spoken with like everyday for 4 years! Through Gotham finding two of my dearest friends in my life. Watching the show together and screaming, crying, laughing during this journey, about not just the show but EVERYTHING in life. They also are amazing writers and artists ♥ And also helped me endless times with gif caption when my non-native brain trying to write gif captions at 3am after the episode lol. All my love to you both ♥

THANKS TO ALL AMAZING PEOPLE that impacted me over these years. The cast and nice fandom people! My dearest @conscience-killer and @constant-sinner. And I also wanna mention dear @millicentcordelia and @selene-volturo that are amazing ppl that have been here with me since the very beginning of season 1. And they have always been so down to earth even during the stormiest periods of this show’s existence ♥ I’m so glad we’ve shared this LONG journey!

And also hugs to my dear mutual fandom friends that I’ve shared hours of conversations with over the years. Some of us maybe don’t speak as much nowadays and some of us have gone separate ways with new interests but I hope you know who you all are, regardless if we spoke yesterday or 2015. You have made my fandom time a joy!

I’m actually okay with the show ending now you know. Ofc it’s a bit sad but as I said I felt s4 was kinda stomping around in the same spot and even s5 had some fillers like they didn’t have more to do to push the story forward? The last ep was a nice easter egg wrap up for this LONG journey. And I mean shows live on with fan content, and who knows maybe it will return somehow? But it feels good they told us it would end so I was prepared for this and to say ”goodbye”. But it’s not goodbye because content will continue on this site and I’ll continue re-enjoy this show!

This is 4,5 years. In 2 pages, I could prob write 20 but ah, but i felt I got to to summary the most important things for me over these years ♥. This show and stuff that came with it will always be such a big part of my life, ALL LOVE AND HUGS!

#my text #gotham #nygmobblepot #HUGS AND LOVE!!#ugh gosh my feels #so much has happened and i'm so grateful for all positive things that I've been a part of <333

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faveficarchive · 5 years

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I’ve Been to Pocatello, but I’ve Never Been to Me

Another White Trash Tale of Depravity, Soul-Searching, and Potato Chips

By Vivian Darkbloom

Pairing: Xena/Gabrielle

Rating: Mature

Synopsis: This is the fourth installment in the White Trash Series. Gabrielle learns all about Zina’s dark past when a few unwanteds wander back into her girlfriend’s life.

1. An Interlude in the Manner of Pinky and the Brain

"Gabrielle, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I think so, baby. I'll go get your fire helmet and the nacho cheese dip."

"No, I'm not thinking about that."

"Okay. Let me try again." A hopeful pause. A batting of fair eyelashes. A comely pout. "Your fire helmet and the vibrator?"

Zina sighed. Her fire helmet—the penultimate symbol of her profession, a badge of pride, a lifesaving device—had been reduced, by Gabrielle, to both a fetish object and a receptacle for foodstuffs. She was just grateful that Gabrielle had decided the helmet was ill-suited for use as a pitcher for margaritas (her hair had smelled like tequila for weeks). "I'm thinking…"

"Always a bad sign, baby."

"…like maybe we should go to the movies."

Gabrielle regarded her skeptically. "Really?" She loved to go to movie theaters, but since Zina found the entire experience stressful—dealing with large, inane groups of people was not the firefighter's forte—they did not go very often.

Zina cleared her throat. This "being sensitive" shit is really hard. "Listen, Gabrielle, I thought, you know, you deserve a night out, a night where we do something different…'cause, uh, I know your finals were hard."

"I agree, absolutely. So like I said, let me go get your helmet and the vibrator…"

"Now, how is that special? We've done that plenty of times."

"Well, this time I'll let you wear the helmet, stud." With a wiggle of her eyebrows, Gabrielle ran upstairs. Grinning, Zina followed. She was more than willing to do whatever it would take to make the little poet happy…especially when it involves sex, thought the firefighter, as she took the steps two at a time.

*****

Cyrene stepped out of her Volkswagen, humming the crazy violin part of "Baba O'Riley," her head bobbing up and down, and approached the front door of the farmhouse. She lingered on the porch as she peered into the daunting recesses of her macramé purse, looking for the house keys, something that was hard to do in the evening light. A full fifteen minutes passed, during which she found some Chiclets from 1977 and the results of an VD test from 1990 (Hey, I'm negative! Cool!), before she finally found the keys. Still humming, she entered the darkened home that her daughter shared with Gabrielle. She wound her way through the black hallway to the kitchen, where she snapped on the light. She clapped her hands together and rubbed them briskly. Okay, I've got a half an hour before the meeting, just enough time to make hummus…

"Ayiyyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyi!" The strange cry ripped through the room and, not wasting any time, Cyrene grabbed the nearest butcher knife and, with a less exotic shriek of her own, jumped on the kitchen counter. Her daughter was crouched in the doorway, nude, ready to pounce, wielding a baseball bat…and with a fire helmet ever so slightly askance on her head.

"Jesus, Zina!" Cyrene cried, as her adrenaline rush subsided. "What the fuck was that?"

Zina grinned. "Just a little something I picked up from the Discovery Channel," she said proudly. "Didn't know you could still jump that fast, Mom." She rose to her full height and leaned the bat in a corner. "Sorry. I thought you were a burglar or somethin'."

"I didn't think you were home, honey. Gabrielle said I could use the house tonight for an LPN group meeting."

"LPN?" Zina echoed. Her mother wanted to become a nurse?

Cyrene sighed. Another disbeliever. "Legalize Pot Now."

The firefighter snorted. "Oh, for Christ's sake."

Cyrene jabbed a finger of maternal authority at Zina. "Yeah, man, scoff all you want. All I can say if it weren't for pot, you wouldn't be here right now!" Somehow a Chevy van, a bottle of Boone's Hill strawberry wine, an 8-track tape of Badfinger, and a draft dodger with a droopy mustache had appeared all the more erotic and alluring under the influence of a fat joint.

Footsteps on the stairs announced Gabrielle's arrival. The lithe poet had taken a minute to make herself presentable for dangerous felons, and had thrown on a t-shirt and shorts. But her mussed hair, reddened lips, and flushed face announced, louder than a Siegfried and Roy show at Vegas, what she and her hunky firefighter had been up to. "Cyrene? What the hell—"

"You forgot, didn't you?" Cyrene accused gently.

"Oh…shit! I did! I'm sorry." She apologized to two generations of bad-ass chicks at once. Both scowled at her. "Uh, Zina, didn't you say you wanted to go to the movies?"

2. Mrs. Peel, We're Needed

The trip to the movies also involved babysitting Purdy, who was having a fight with Lila. He had called up Gabrielle a few minutes before they were about to leave for the theater, to see if she wanted to get drunk at the Saddle. Soft-hearted little poet that she was, she invited him along. "Is that okay?" she sheepishly asked Zina after the fact.

Zina shrugged. "Sure."

"Zina, you're so nice to Purdy. It's sweet."

"I figure anyone who dumped you for your sister needs some special treatment, if you know what I mean." She waggled a finger in a circle alongside her head.

They met Purdy at the theater. He stood, sulky, in the parking lot, leaning against his Ford pickup, John Deere cap pulled low in an attempt to make his babyfat face more menacing. "Hiya, Gab, Hiya Zina," he greeted. "So, what movie are we seeing?"

Gabrielle smirked with pride. "The Avengers."

Purdy made a face. "Gab, you always pick these artsy-fartsy foreign films!"

Zina nodded in agreement. "Yeah! With these snooty British people or something," she piped up.

"Knock it off, both o' you. I'll have you know that things blow up in this movie, and that Uma Thurman chick runs around wearing leather. It can't be bad."

A skeptical grunt issued forth from the firefighter as they headed into the multiplex. After they bought tickets, Gabrielle immediately took off in the direction of the concession stand. But she didn’t get very far before Zina snagged her arm. "Don't do it," her companion purred in her ear.

Such a suggestive, seductive tone made the blonde poet want to do it even more. "I don't know what you're talking about," she protested, lying, trying to squirm out of Zina's grip.

"You know what I mean, Gabrielle. Don't do it. Don't give in."

Gabrielle stopped thrashing and met Zina's eyes. "Okay, okay. I won't. I swear."

The blue eyes held her gaze for a moment. "All right, then." The firefighter released her. "Get me a Coke, okay? See you down front." She headed for the theater.

As Gabrielle waited patiently in line, she drank in the smell of rancid popcorn and butter. Popcorn. I'll just get some popcorn. With feigned casualness she surveyed the boxes of candy in the display case; the green eyes flickered and hesitated for a nanosecond at the Raisinet boxes, but then continued their thorough scan of the candy. Okay, that was fine. I didn't feel a thing.

Nonetheless she turned away abruptly and studied the faded wallpaper. Oh my…that's a nice pattern. I never thought green and brown could work together like that...Then she turned her attention to a new movie poster: Weekend at Bernie's 3: "This Time It's Personal…Hygiene."

Then the voices began.

Gabrielle.

No! She clutched her forehead. "I'm not listening," she muttered aloud, causing a glance from the burly gentleman in front of her wearing a cowboy hat and a Charlie Daniels Band t-shirt.

Gabrielle! It's us. Please listen!!!

"Stop it!" Gabrielle growled. The large cowboy shifted away from her slightly.

You must listen. Only you can set us free. Gabrielllllllllllle…

"No!"

Look at us.

She shook her head savagely.

Come. Look. Or do you fear us?

Timidly the poet turned, slowly, and looked.

The box of Raisinets glowed with a preternatural beauty, even more striking than Zina in full firefighter regalia (or buck naked for that matter), and the voices of the Raisinets, blending together with mellow effervescence and sounding precisely like the two midget women in that little box from the Mothra movies, sang their siren song of freedom to their golden-haired liberator: Gabriellllllle…buy us, eat us!

"Ohhhhh…all right!" screamed the poet, scaring away not only the Charlie Daniels guy but also the couple in front of him, and thus effectively shortening the line.

Arms cradling the Coke, the popcorn, a bunch of candy bars, and the evil Raisinets, Gabrielle waddled down the aisle to where her companions sat. She tossed a giant Kit Kat bar at Purdy and thrust a Coke at Zina; both firefighter and mechanic noted the Raisinets lying in her lap.

"Don't say anything," Gabrielle snarled at them.

A long silence ensued. It was finally broken by Purdy's guffaw. "You'll be on the can all night long, then havin' bad dreams," he chastised her. "Man, I am so glad I don't live with you anymore!"

She gave a lunge toward him, sending popcorn flying, but was restrained by Zina's powerful arm. "Down, girl," said the firefighter.

"They…they…" stammered Gabrielle.

"Yeah, I know, honey bunny, they were talking to you…" Zina replied, as if Gabrielle were a reject from the Special Olympics.

"They were!" wailed the poet, as the previews began.

Twenty minutes later, as Zina snored through a trailer for a Brad Pitt film, Purdy, arms folded, threatened once again: "This better be good."

"It can't be bad," assured Gabrielle, whose childlike faith in Hollywood, while tremendously touching, was sorely misplaced, misguided, and plainly retarded.

*****

It was bad.

"How stupid could I be!" cried Gabrielle, as they left the theater for the lobby. "To think that anyone else could be Mrs. Peel!"

"Well, duh," Zina agreed.

"But things sure blowed up pretty good," Purdy said. Zina nodded in assent.

It was all that mattered, really.

"Hey, isn't that Callie over there?" Gabrielle asked apprehensively, grasping her beloved's arm and nodding to a small, poorly dressed group that circled the front of the multiplex and carried strange signs: "THE AVENGERS" PROMOTES UNNATURAL CLOTHES, one said. LEATHER IS FOR BOOTS ONLY, proclaimed another.

Sure enough, the crazed blonde was in the eye of the protesting storm. However, upon spotting the movie-going trio of Zina, Gabrielle, and Purdy, she bore down on them like a bulimic toward a toilet bowl.

"Well!" sniped Callie by way of greeting, "I can guess what sick film you three have been seeing."

Zina rolled her eyes. "Callie, you are pathetic. There was nothing weird in that film. Hell, it was so boring I fell asleep who knows how many times."

"Five," supplied Gabrielle, with some measure of irritation.

"It figures you wouldn't notice the fine details, Zina," Callie sneered haughtily. "The clothing was scandalous and suggestive. It was perverted." Even speaking of the dreaded film caused Callie to grip her jumbo-sized Sprite a little tighter, even though her hand could barely get around it as it was.

"So I take it you actually saw the film?" Gabrielle asked coolly.

"No, of course not! I'm not spending money to see such filth!"

"Lady, you are bonkers," Purdy mumbled.

"What?" hissed Callie.

"You heard me!" he retorted defiantly.

She threw her drink at him, drenching him with sticky carbonated coolness. "You crazy bitch! This is my best flannel shirt!" he cried as she stalked away from them.

"Yeah! You get back here, you bitch!" Gabrielle shouted. She tried to take off after Callie, but found Zina's restraining arm around her midriff.

"What the hell's gotten into you?" Zina asked, perturbed that Gabrielle would get so upset over such a matter—of course, it would have been different had Callie thrown the drink on her, then it would be acceptable for Gabrielle to flip out. But over Purdy? She makes absolutely no sense when she's PMSing, thought Zina, who nonetheless enjoyed the sensation of the wiggling Gabrielle pressed against her.

"She's pushed me too far, Zina! I can't have her throwing drinks at my ex-boyfriend! I got my pride!"

"Yeah, and it's pretty warped, I'd say."

"Lemme go!" demanded the angry poet.

"Gabrielle, don't you remember once…you told me the cycle of violence and hatred must be broken…."

Finally Gabrielle slipped out of the firefighter's loose grasp. "For Christ's sake, Zina, I had four shots of tequila when I said that! Now lemme go kick that twat's ass!" She stomped over to Callie for a Meeting of the Blondes. A brief interaction ensued: Callie, motionless, with eyebrows raised, watched Gabrielle gesticulate all over the place.

It ended with one punch.

Zina was amazed at how quickly Callie could run in heels. The minister was in her Camaro and tearing out of the parking lot before she and Purdy reached the prostrate poet.

"Gabrielle?" The firefighter gently shook the unconscious form. Her frightened blue eyes locked onto the anxious Purdy. "Quick, get some chocolate!"

*****

"Mrs. Peel?" The voice, with its clipped British accent, was vaguely familiar to Gabrielle. Nonetheless her eyelids refused to open until she felt something soft tapping her cheeks.

Willpower pried open her eyes, which could not believe what they were seeing.

It was Zina, kneeling in front of her, grinning, wearing a dark blue pinstripe suit and a bowler hat, a white carnation gracing her lapel. "Mrs. Peel, are you all right?" Zina asked again, in impeccable, more-upper-class -than-thou English tones.

Those goddamn Raisinets!!!! She tried blinking several times in hopes of dispelling the hallucination. No go. "Is it Halloween again?" she whispered timidly.

Zina frowned. "I say, my dear, you simply are not yourself. You even sound different, Mrs. Peel."

Why does she keep…Gabrielle tried to move and her body, which felt taut, tense, and immobile, made a strange, flatulent noise. She looked down the length of her form. She was clad in a tight black leather bodysuit and boots.

…calling me that? She was attired just like Mrs. Peel. "Oh, God," she moaned. She looked at Zina, who was still looking ever so concerned in a restrained, British kinda way.

"So. You must be Steed." Gabrielle ventured the guess nervously.

The tall, dark-haired woman smiled at that. "Verrrry good," she replied with imperial condescension. "Now, do you remember anything else?"

Gabrielle gritted her teeth as she attempted to sit up again, which elicited a protracted farting noise from her leather outfit. This time she was successful. "Like what?"

"Ohhh, let's see," Zina sighed in thought, "The Cybernauts? The Hellfire Club? Castle De'Ath?"

"Uh…yeah. I do." Except I wasn't Mrs. Peel, I was only sitting on the floor in the living room eating Screaming Yellow Zonkers and wishing I were her.

"Encouraging!" replied Zina/Steed.

And they were off, driving through the countryside, drinking champagne, listening to Petula Clark…. Downtown!

She held out her glass for more champagne (and how did Steed manage to pour and drive at the same time?) but when she brought it to her lips there was a telegram inside the glass. "What's this?" she asked.

"Good news, Mrs. Peel. Your husband, Purdy Peel, has been found in the Amazon…"

In an Amazon? Surely not Effie! "My husband? But I—I was never married!" wailed Gabrielle.

"So I'm afraid it's time for all our glamorous adventures to come to an end…"

"They can't!"

"But you must do your duty…"

"No!"

The Bentley entered a tunnel. All was darkness….

….and Gabrielle opened her eyes. She was back home, in the bedroom she shared with Zina, and the tall firefighter was sitting on the bed, watching her with concern. Fortunately, sans the bowler hat.

"Sugar booger!" she cried, sitting up. She flung her arms around Zina.

"Gabrielle! How are you feeling, honey?" Zina gave her girlfriend a squeeze, a kiss on the cheek, and rubbed her back.

"Better. Baby, I had this crazy dream—"

"Didn't I tell you not to eat the Raisinets?"

"I know. But this was different somehow...."

"You mean you have diarrhea this time?"

"No! Zina, listen. I was going through a tunnel, and you know that usually means—"

"Sex!" Zina's sapphire eyes lit up like a gas grill.

"Yeah, but it scared me a little. Like I feel the tunnel represents something else. 'Cause I was afraid to go through it. You know how I hate change…like I was ready to kill you when you got a different kind of toilet paper. But I think this is something serious, something I gotta think about. Like what I'm gonna do with my life. And what everything means. I feel like this dream was trying to impart some important message to me about my life, my writing…but what the bowler hat represented, I have no idea…" Gabrielle trailed off, and so had Zina's infant-like attention span—the baby blues were focused on the switchblade she pulled out of her pocket. With a flick of the wrist, Zina began to pare her nails. Gabrielle cleared her throat loudly. "Honey, do me a favor. Would you get that big book out of the bathroom for me?"

Zina nodded. Still fiddling with the switchblade, she shuffled into the bathroom. Five minutes passed. The toilet flushed. "I don't see anything!" she finally cried.

You damn—"It's under your copy of Guns and Ammo!" Gabrielle yelled.

A pause. "Oh." Zina returned, with a large hardcover tome. It was titled The Woman's Dictionary of Symbols, Signs, and Secret Meanings: Dream Interpretation for Quasi-Feminists. The book had been a Christmas gift from Cyrene. With the book splayed in her lap, Gabrielle flipped pages until she reached this entry, nestled between "Bowl of Oatmeal" and "Butane Lighters":

BOWLER HATS: Traditionally seen as a symbol of male bourgeoisie, the bowler hat takes on subversive meaning in dreams when it is worn by a woman. Its black color represents power, and the round, curvaceous shape calls to mind the feminine form. Nominally the dream figure wearing the hat is seen as powerful, a person whose acceptance of self is something that you strive for.

Gabrielle looked at her companion skeptically. Zina was flipping the switchblade in her hand, then, with a sudden growl and a cry of "Hee-yah!" flung the blade across the room until it landed, bull's eye, in a decrepit dart board. She smirked with pride.

"Zina, I'm having a spiritual crisis kinda thing going on. Least you could do is leave the switchblade alone."

The firefighter blinked and looked at her girlfriend. "Oh. Yeah, sorry, Gabrielle." Like a scolded puppy she returned to the bed.

"Maybe this is why I'm having a writer’s block, too," mused the blonde.

"Don't worry, honey, you'll get your groove back." Zina admired her neatly trimmed nails, then shot Gabrielle a sly, lusty look. "We could have sex—that usually helps you write."

"Yeah, but I usually end up writing epic poems about your thighs. Not that that isn't a worthy subject, but…no. I gotta work this out. It's like a…quest. A spiritual quest, you know?"

"No." No, of course not. For Zina, a spiritual quest would be finding the perfect hunting knife.

"Well, it is. I have to discover who I am, and what my life means, and find inner peace."

They were quiet for a long minute. "I still think sex would help," Zina finally said.

Gabrielle pondered this. "Better safe than sorry." She peeled off her shirt.

3. Anything that Moves

The following day found Gabrielle answering a fateful knock at the door.

She blinked at the tall, dark stranger on the doorstep. "I am looking for Zina." He spoke heavily accented English.

Mentally, Gabrielle pulled out the Zina Ex-Lover Checklist (Male Version):

1. Does he have overstyled facial hair? Yes! Not as weird as Artie's, though.

2. Long and/or dark hair? Uh-huh.

3. Muscular and/or dangerous looking, like he just got out of prison? Absolutely.

4. An obvious death wish? We'll soon find out.

The Male Version of the Checklist did certainly help narrow the field a bit, unlike the Female Version, which was:1. Blonde?She leaned in the doorway. "Okay, man, I got your number. Welcome to Zinaholics Anonymous. I'm Gabrielle, and I can't sponsor you, because I'm a happy addict."

The man scowled at her. "A simple 'hello' would work just as well."

"Who are you?"

This did not erase his look of displeasure. "My name is Boris. I have come to see Zina about…" He paused melodramatically. "…our puppy."

"Puppy?"

"Da. We had puppy together…many years ago."

"A puppy?" Gabrielle gasped. Talk about commitment! Zina never wants us to have a pet! Every time I bring it up…"Too much responsibility, Gabrielle." She stomped over to the foot of the stairs. "Zina!" she roared up into the air. "Get your ass down here now!"

Various curses filtered down from the second floor of the house. "All right, all right, goddammit." A clunk emanating from above indicated that a barbell was threatening to come crashing through the ceiling. Sleek, sweaty, and pumped, Zina trooped down the stairs. And stopped just before hitting the last step. "Boris," she snarled. "I thought you were dead!" Great, another ex for Gabrielle to deal with. I'll never hear the end of it.

He looked blank for a moment, then threw up his arms. "Can't you read? The telegram said Dagnine killed me in the chess tournament. Not in real life, you eeediot!" He shook his head, dismayed, then gave her a less severe scrutiny. "But…Stolichnaya!" he murmured. "You still look fabulous!"

The firefighter ignored this. "What the hell do you want?"

A hurt look crossed his face. "What a greeting! Zeeeeena, I have not seen you for…what? Ten years?"

"Seven."

"I thought that was when you met Julie Caesar," Gabrielle interjected.

"Ummm, maybe five."

"Who is Julie Caesar?" Boris said.

"Maybe it's closer to eight…" Zina mused.

"Or nine," added Gabrielle.

"Maybe I should ask Mom…"

"Zina, every other week your mother thinks it's 1972. I don't think so." Only a few days prior Cyrene had traipsed up to Gabrielle and said, "Hey, man, they're starting this cool thing called Earth Day! Wanna go?"

"Who is this Julie Caesar?" Boris demanded again.

"Look, dickhead, I'm the main squeeze here, not you, so stop acting jealous. Okay, Zina," Gabrielle pointed at Boris, "let's hear all about this one. I'm ready for another long, crude story about your past. I just bought a jumbo-sized tub of potato chips, so I'm set. Spill it."

"Gabrielle, I can't—it's just too damn ugly." There were few things Zina was truly ashamed of doing…but this part of her life, with Boris, was simply too painful and hideous to contemplate. And if she couldn't deal with it…what made Gabrielle think that she could?

"Come on, I know everything else, baby. The drug deals, the stolen cars, setting Callie's house on fire—"

"You set somebody's house on fire?" cried Boris, aghast. The Russian's eyes widened in horror.

"—the shoplifting, picking up a Girl Scout—"

"She told me she was a troop leader!" the firefighter blurted in feeble defense.

"—beating up your parole officer, all the ABBA albums you had—"

"Why won't you admit 'SOS' is a great song?"

"—so the point is, Zina, I know all the bad stuff, so…trust me. I love you. I married you. I wash your t-shirts. Tell me."

"You want the truth? You can handle the truth!" Zina roared.

A stunned silence followed.

The firefighter shrugged sheepishly. "Sorry. I always wanted to say that."

"Tell me," demanded the poet quietly, folding her arms.

The firefighter sighed in defeat, and her beautiful countenance hardened into a spiteful sneer. "You wanna hear about it? All right, Gabrielle, you asked for it…" Her jaw shifted defiantly. "Boris and I were semi-professional ice skaters. We spent years—well, I guess maybe only one—trying to make it big at the Pocatello Ice Follies."

"Pocatello…?" echoed the poet.

"Da," Boris affirmed. "It's a town in that—ahhhh, what do you Americans call your potato state?"

"Idaho," Zina supplied curtly. "Anyway, the Ice Follies….It's like a dry run for the Ice Capades."

Gabrielle backed up away from her beloved, and gripped the arm of the decrepit couch. No. Totally uncool! My big, tough macho dyke girlfriend…a figure skater?

"And we made Tonya Harding look good," Boris added glumly.

"Yeah, Boris is right. We were the worst of the worst. The lowest of the low. I wore a pink chiffon bodysuit. And Boris made Rudy Galindo look butch." The Russian scowled at this. "We performed to 'You Light Up My Life'…"

"And that cute song from Cats. What's it called, Zina?" Boris started to hum "Memory." Without thinking, Zina picked up the melody and did the same.

"STOP!" shrieked Gabrielle. Pink? Ice skating? Debby Boone? Eyes staring blankly, she sank numbly into the depths of the couch.

"Zeeeeena, I think she's in shock," Boris said, waving a hand in front of Gabrielle's glassy, fixed stare.

4. Another Obligatory Flashback

Practice ended badly; a poorly executed triple axle landed Zina on her ass and ripped her costume. Boris was supposed to catch her, but he was not on his mark, where he should have been, but was at the edge of the rink with Alti, their coach, indulging in a prolonged smoke and discussion about various brands of vodka. Furious, she stomped over to her oblivious lover, cold-cocked him (eliciting an evil cackle from Alti in the process), and stalked back to their trailer, which was parked outside the rink

She didn't hit him too hard—he was only unconscious for half an hour—and, as she anticipated, he skulked back to the trailer, apologetic, and they proceeded to make up by screwing frantically under the canopy of the fuzzy, musty panda bear blanket they had bought from Woolworth's a few months ago.

Afterwards, while she snored he threw on a pair of jeans and hunted for another bottle of vodka. Bah! She hid it again! Greedy bitch! He returned to the bedroom, determined to wake her up and find out where the vodka was. However, sitting down beside her, he was overtaken by a moment of tenderness as he watched her sleep. Softly, he called her name. "Zina."

She sputtered, drooled, and grunted. He smiled. How he loved her! Gently, he shook her naked shoulder. "Zina, my beloved. Light of my life, fire of my loins, my sin, my soul, Zeeeena—"

A bleary blue eye cracked open and glared at him. "We're outta condoms, so don't even think about it."

He laughed merrily. "My darling, your crudeness is so charming. No, I just wanted to tell you…" His dark eyes were solemn. "I think I love you."

Like a cultural Pavlov's dog, all Zina could think about was the Partridge Family. The big yellow bus! Danny Bonaduce! Susan Dey in all her bitchy glory! "I think I'm gonna puke." She rolled over.

"This was not the reaction I had hoped for."

"Too fucking bad."

"It's all this…stress, all this nonsense that's making you act like this." He disregarded the fact that she had always been like this, even when they were trying to open up the Chinese/Tex-Mex restaurant with Lao Ma. He still shuddered involuntarily at the thought of it; he loved her, without a doubt, but he was damned if she didn't have the weirdest ideas when it came to food. And why Lao Ma indulged her…Well, I know why Lao Ma indulged her, he thought darkly, reflecting upon that miserable day when he caught them together. She was just washing my hair, Zina had said, and then we both got all wet, so we took off all our clothes to dry, but there weren't any towels, so we were just rubbing our bodies together—just to get dry!

But oh, Zina, if that's true, then why were you still…so wet? He wanted to cry, the pain of the betrayal was still so fresh. But he forced back the thoughts. "Zina, please," he continued. "I mean it. We could be so happy if we only stopped doing this…crap. Let's face it, neither one of us can skate to save our own lives."

Her body rippled with a sigh.

"You know I'm right," he pushed.

"Yeah, I guess you are," she conceded. "We should talk to Alti later and tell her it's not workin' out. Right now, I wanna sleep."

Unfortunately, a banging commenced upon the semi-sturdy door of the trailer. "Go the fuck away!" Zina shouted, pulling the blanket over her head.

He sighed. Apparently the Big Love Discussion would have to wait as well. He padded over to the door and opened it. It was Alti, a Pall Mall dangling (as always) from her lips, her mascara heavy and smeared, making her look like a cross between an aging Cure fan and an insomniac raccoon. "Boris, is she all right?" She nodded toward the bedroom.

"Is she all right?" he spat, incredulous. "She's the one who hit me!" Furious, he pointed at his swollen nose.

"Whatever," Alti grunted. "Can we come in for a moment?" It was at the mention of "we" that Boris noted a lithe blonde woman, wearing a short coat and a skirt, hovering inconspicuously behind Alti.

He frowned with suspicion. "I guess." He stepped aside to let them in, and

shouted in the direction of the bedroom, "Zina! We got company! Get dressed!"

A minute passed and the sullen Zina sauntered into the main room, wearing black underwear and a tank top.

"Now that's what I call dressed," Alti rasped with approval in her Brenda Vaccaro voice.

Boris, who had pulled on a sweatshirt, folded his arms and scowled. Ignoring them all, Zina headed for the kitchen and returned with a Heineken.

"What, you don't offer our guests anything?" Boris snapped at her.

"Fuck you. What am I, a maid?"

"Why, I ought to—" he raised a hand. She hissed at him.

Alti groaned. "As fascinating as I find this, we need to talk."

"About what?" Zina asked.

"Schedule change. The first performance of the Follies this season is next week at the Shriners' Arena, so we gotta pick up our pace."

"A week?" Boris gasped. "I thought it was in three weeks."

"It was. But the Militia Job Fair is all that week, in downtown Pocatello, so they moved it up to this week."

"Bastards!" snarled Boris.

"Look, Boris, what does it matter?" Zina said impatiently. "We might as well tell her now." She turned to Alti. "We were just talking about this whole thing a few minutes ago. Alti, we're sick of the skating. We're no good at it. So we're quitting."

Rage contorted the visage of the Mascara'ed One. "What? You can't quit! We have an agreement!"

"Screw the agreement," Zina retorted. "I'm not doing it anymore. I'm sick of wearing pink chiffon and skating to Whitney Houston."

"Should I let you pick the music?" Alti growled. "If I did, you would be banging your head on the ice to AC/DC."

Zina groaned. "Look, I just want out."

Alti looked to Boris, who was quiet, his face expressionless. "What do you think, Boris?"

"She speaks for us both," the Russian proclaimed.

"I see," Alti rumbled. She turned her head slightly, catching the attention of the blonde woman, who stepped out from behind the skating coach. "Well, I guess if that's your decision, Zina, then it's done. Oh, by the way, have I introduced you to my…new assistant?"

With a sensual shrug, the Blonde's short jacket fell away, revealing creamy bare shoulders above a halter top, followed by a firm, flat tummy and a short skirt. She pursed her full lips, winked at Zina, and purred a hello.

With delight Alti noted that her star skater's blue eyes were glazed with lust and her jaw shifting with the barely suppressed urge to devour the woman on the spot. So predictable, Zina, the coach thought. She smirked and watched as Boris fumed silently, figurative steam shooting out of his ears like a busy laundromat.

Eyes not moving from the Blonde, Zina groped blindly for her wallet, which was sunk into the pocket of her Levi's, draped on the couch. "Hey, Boris baby, why don't you an' Alti go down to the tavern for a while, have a couple rounds…" Absentmindedly she pulled a twenty from the pocket and tossed it in the general direction of her Russian companion.

Alti intercepted the flying money, and gently grasped Boris's arm, relieved to see that he was not protesting as she steered him toward the door. "We'll talk later about next week. All right, Zina?"

Like a bird of prey in a cocktail lounge, Zina took a few steps toward the Blonde, who tittered. "Sure, Alti, sure."

"See you at practice tomorrow?"

"Yeah, yeah, go on." Impatiently, she waved her coach away.

With a final shove Alti scooted Boris out the door and closed it behind her. Immediately, in rapid succession, she heard a low growl, a playful shriek, a giddy giggle, and a tortuous moan.

Boris heard it too. Oh great, now I really have to cheer him up, or else he'll spend all evening talking about Dostoevsky. She threw an arm around him. "Come on, Boris. Nothing but Stoli for you," she said. If we can find some in this Godforsaken town.

"Really?" he asked with timid hopefulness and puppy dog eyes.

"Really." Ah, as long as there's no shortage of blondes and vodka….

*****

Gabrielle glanced at the empty bottle of peach schnapps on the kitchen table. After Zina had begun the sad tale of her skating days, Boris had taken over the narrative, trying to explain the hold that Alti, their evil coach, had on them. In the interim Zina had wandered into the living room to watch a football game. It had taken him two hours and the empty bottle of liquor to complete his tale…which, unfortunately, had led into further discourse on the larger theme of the evening: Zina was an Evil Bitch Who Could Not Be Trusted.

He drained his glass of schnapps and slammed it on the table. "I put up with a lot of crap from her. First she dumps me for Lao Ma, then we're back together again and I thought everything was okay, then all of a sudden she's doing this blonde bitch…" A sob escaped him, and Gabrielle, cursing her good nature, found herself patting his arm.

"There there," soothed Gabrielle. "It's all over now, baby blue." Damn Cyrene, making me listen to Dylan over and over and over….

He sniffled into his shirt sleeve. "She'll do the same to you! You're better off without her," he said sullenly.

She stood up to stretch. "Boris, trust me. Zina's not like that anymore. She's a good person now. She's changed. She really has."

"WOO-HOO!!!! BUCKEYES!!!!!" came a scream from the living room. A few seconds later Zina strutted out, cocky and proud. "Goddamn forty-five yard TD! Sonofabitch!" She playfully slapped Gabrielle on the ass, grabbed a Rolling Rock from the fridge, then ambled back to the TV.

"Changed, huh?" Boris grunted.

Gabrielle rubbed her tingly butt and smiled. She hoped the strangely named football team would win, because it would put Zina in a really good mood afterward.

*****

Indeed, the fortunes of Zina's favorite college team held, and Gabrielle awoke the next morning with a sigh that signified blissful satisfaction. She wandered downstairs to find Zina in the kitchen, making one of her "power shakes": raw eggs with Tabasco sauce and seaweed.

"No good morning kiss for you," mumbled the sleepy poet as she padded into the kitchen.

The firefighter unleashed her evil laugh. "That's what you think," she growled happily, and swung Gabrielle up onto the counter, so that she was sitting among cracked eggs and dried bits of ocean gunk. Then Zina's lips fused with her own. And that burning sensation…was that the raven-haired woman's intense passion sizzling against her with tactile abandon, or was it the Tabasco?

Several minutes passed as they engaged in swapping heated spit, but as Gabrielle opened a lazy, lustful eye, movement from the living room, quite visible from her perch on the counter, caught her attention. Intrigued, she pulled away slightly from her partner, only to have the firefighter attach her lips to Gabrielle's neck. "Zina?"

"Mmmmm?"

"Why is Boris still here?"

The dark head flew back. "What?"

Gabrielle nodded toward the living room. "He's in there…" She and Zina peered intently in that direction. "…and he's eating my Cocoa Puffs!" shouted the poet.

"And he's wearing my pajamas!" Zina added with outrage. Disengaging herself from Gabrielle, she stomped into the living room and sat down on the couch beside Boris, who was watching "Donny and Marie" on TV.

"Good morning!" he said.

Fucking bastard. Always a morning person. "Boris, what the hell are you still doing here?"

"Zina, I told you last night…I am not going anywhere until you turn over our puppy." Boris did concede to himself that he could have picked his moment better. It was right after the Buckeyes won and the postgame makeout session was in full swing. ("Yay, Butt-Thighs!" Gabrielle had cried triumphantly as she was chased up the stairs.)

"I don't have our goddamn puppy! And another thing, he's probably a dog by now!"

"He will always be a 'puppy' to me, Natasha," Boris replied, letting slip the pet name he had sometimes called Zina when they were still together. They were Boris and Natasha, out to destroy Moose and Squirrel, and take over the world…."Well," he continued, with an exasperated sigh, "where is he?"

The firefighter stared guiltily into the distance.

"I, uh, gave him to Lao Ma."

He did an abortive Danny Thomas: instead of spewing milk and cereal all over the place, it only dribbled all over his beard. "You gave OUR PUPPY to Lao Ma??? Are you mad?"

She moaned. "Look, I'm sorry. We had broken up, and you left to play chess in Geneva, so…I didn't think I was fit to take care of a dog, Boris…"

"But…Lao Ma??? She probably turned him into a lunch special with an egg roll and choice of soup!"

"Cut that out. That's just some…whaddya call it…urbane legend," she replied nervously, chewing her lower lip. At least it better be, Lao!

"How could you?"

"Believe me, I didn't want to, Boris. I feel bad that I had to."

"Ha!" he shouted. "You felt bad about something. That's only slightly more amazing than the fact that some TV executive thinks that these eeeediots"—he pointed at the mugging Osmonds—"still have careers!"

In the interim Gabrielle had entered the living room; she too was munching

on the ambrosia of the lower classes, Cocoa Puffs. "Hey, who's that dopey guy who looks like Purdy?" she asked, gesturing toward the TV with her dripping, milky spoon.

5. Enter the Dragon

"This is stupid," grumbled Gabrielle, as she followed Zina into the Green Dragon. "Why can't he track down his own damn puppy?"

"Look, it's like a debt I have to repay," Zina muttered as they were underwhelmed by the dim lighting and the Orientalia of the restaurant: blood red and gold tones saturated the murals of Chinese characters and temples, and little figures dancing with giant peaches….

"Debt my ass," retorted the poet.

Just inside they were greeted by the surly visage of Ming Tien, Lao Ma's son, who, as usual, was manning the cash register. His skinny arms were folded over his Sailor Moon t-shirt. He sneered at them, adam's apple bobbing furiously. "Ah, my mother's erstwhile seductress dares to bring shame to our dwelling once again."

Zina snatched up a pair of complimentary chopsticks from a large bowl in front of the register. "I'm telling ya, kid, one of these days…" She mimed jamming the sticks into his head.

"Like I'm sooo afraid of you!" he taunted. She lunged at him and he skittered off his chair, seeking refuge behind Gabrielle.

"Stop it, both of you," Gabrielle chastised them. "Look, Zina, let's get this over with, okay?"

"Is she in the kitchen?" Zina barked at Ming Tien.

"Yeah," he replied, sulking.

The two women walked through the nearly empty restaurant to the kitchen. They found Lao idly stirring a huge cauldron of egg drop soup, which sat next to a metal table covered with a mini-army of little wax paper bags filled with dried noodles. "Ah, Zina. I knew you would come," she murmured with serene confidence.

Lao Ma's mystical side always fascinated the ex-con. "Yeah? How'd you know this time? A vision? Reading tea leaves? A talking eggroll?"

"No. Boris called me."

"Lazy bastard," muttered Gabrielle.

"Your jealous heart reveals itself, Gabrielle. Like a dumpling hiding spinach…soon, the truth is wedged bitterly between one's teeth."

Gabrielle rolled her eyes.

"Lao, baby," Zina began, folding her arms so that her supple biceps were highlighted, then tossing her black hair and grinning seductively, "you'll remember a few years back I gave you a puppy…"

"Ah, yes. A most unexpected gesture. Touching and beautiful."

"Thanks, Lao."

"Until you demanded money for the wretched creature."

"I just thought of that as a loan. Anyway, Lao, honey..." Zina stretched to emphasize her broad shoulders and perfectly rounded breasts. Lao's stirring of the egg drop soup grew agitated. And Gabrielle's blood simmered hotter than the most potent of Tabasco sauces.

"...I need the dog back. I'll buy him from you, even."

"Yes, I know. That's what Boris was calling about. He said he was sending you over, and that you would either seduce me or kill me for the dog."

"You know Boris. Loves to exaggerate. 'Cause if I kill anyone, it would be that bratty kid of yours."

Lao Ma sighed. "Ming Tien is so misunderstood....you see, I had to get rid of the dog for him."

"Whaaaaat?" Zina asked, with a growl building in her throat.

"Ming was the allergic to the animal. And it kept attacking him. So I took it to the local animal shelter."

"Attacking?" echoed Zina. "Lao, it's a dachshund, for Christ's sake."

"They have many sharp little teeth..."

"Yeah," drawled Gabrielle facetiously, "who can resist the raging dachshund?"

Lao Ma's cool eyes flickered to the angry poet. "A sarcastic bitch is like a Barbra Streisand CD: It yields unpleasantness for all within hearing range."

"Oh, yeah? Well, a bitch who drowns in a pot of egg drop soup is like…"

Zina and Lao watched, with anticipation, as Gabrielle struggled to find a metaphor. Both women raised eyebrows.

"…like….like…a bitch who drowns in a pot of egg drop soup!" In sheer frustration, Gabrielle kicked at the stove. Poor baby, Zina thought, she really is blocked.

A flicker of alarm crossed Lao Ma's face. "Gabrielle, do not kick my stove. Unless you want to find extra MSG in your next Szechuan Chicken." She turned to Zina. "Please, remove your dangerous girlfriend from the premises."

"C'mon, baby, let's go," Zina tugged gently on her companion's arm.

"Don't you threaten me with acronyms, you!" roared Gabrielle.

With a sigh, Zina flung the poet over a broad shoulder and exited the Green Dragon.

6. Of Pussies and Puppies

When Boris was not contentedly watching Sally Jessy Raphael, he pondered his ex-lover, Zina. It amazed him to see her so utterly under the thumb of this little blonde person, Gabrielle. The dark, dangerous woman who excited him so, who defied the law and good taste, well, she was now…what do they call it? Ah…pussy-whipped!

Now she knows what it's like, he thought spitefully.

The door of the farmhouse burst open, interrupting any further Russian ruminations. Zina stomped in, with Gabrielle on her heels.

"Did you have to hit the guy at the pound?" the strawberry blonde was complaining.

"Don't you give me any lectures, missy! You were about ready to cold cock Lao Ma at the restaurant!" the firefighter retorted angrily.

"Well, the difference here is that I didn't hit anyone, Zina. Besides, Lao Ma is a bitch."

"You're jealous."

"And you're practically homicidal!"

"I know I am! I've admitted it, Gabrielle! Whaddya want me to do, tell the world I'm gay? I'M GAY! I'M GAY!" Zina shouted to the heavens.

Gabrielle rolled her eyes in defeat. It's not even worth telling her.

"And you…you're a fine one to talk about us being homo-cidal. You haven't even told your parents yet!"

The poet flushed. "They're not ready to know!"

Boris decided that the ridiculous bickering had gone far enough, and it was time for a man—a force of reason—to intervene. "Did anyone bring 7-Up?" he asked calmly. "We're all out."

The two women stared at him. "What the hell are you still doing here?" Zina snarled.

"Zina, I told you…"

"Yeah, yeah, the dog. Well, I got news for you, Boris. The dog is in the pound and they won't let me have 'em unless I pay $1000."

The Russian's dark eyes swelled with emotion. "A thousand—but, they can't do that! Why is it so much money?"

"It's some stupid county law," Gabrielle said. "Zina was registered as the dog's owner, and since she 'abandoned' him and he ended up in the pound…well, they're fining her. It's a misdemeanor."

"Miss Demeanor? I once knew a drag gentleman by that name."

"Drag queen," Gabrielle corrected.

"Da." Boris looked over at Zina, who was slumped in the recliner, looking defeated. He squirmed—instinct told him something else was wrong. "What?" he prompted.

Gabrielle bit her lip nervously. "It's also a violation of Zina's parole, and if we don't pay the fine she'll go to jail."

Zina tried to convey indifference with a shrug. "I don't have that kinda money," the firefighter muttered. Damn. And I swore I would never go back….All the money they recovered from the sales of Barbecue Salsa Mayonnaise was gone, spent on their vacation and on fixing a dent in the Impala—Gabrielle's lone attempt at driving the fabled car having gone seriously awry when she accidentally ran over Crassus, one of Julie Caesar's dogs. The contrite poet had cried a river of tears on Zina's Black Sabbath t-shirt, but had eagerly agreed to the firefighter's plan to bury the dog in Farmer Draco's backyard and not tell Julie.

"I don't either, Zina," Boris implored, "but if we don't pay the money…they kill him."

"And you'll go to jail," Gabrielle added softly.

"Maybe they should just kill me and send the dog to prison," Zina grumbled darkly.

"Can they do that here?" asked the Russian, a mite too eagerly.

7. You Don't Need Pants for the Victory Dance

Gabrielle found the prospect of connubial visits at Shark Island Correctional Facility quite unappealing, and quickly decided upon the best approach to earning quick cash to keep her beloved out of the pen: She applied for employment at the Shimmy Shack.

Sid Moskowitz, the chubby, engaging proprietor of said establishment, was quite pleased when Gabrielle called him to inquire of job opportunities. Sid had an eye for natural talent, and ever since he had spotted Gabrielle in the supermarket, wearing Daisy Dukes and bending over to pick up a rather large box of detergent, he knew her assets would do well on his stage.

Nervously, Gabrielle walked into the dark, empty club. In the light of day, such an institution is rather like a gutted animal—hollow, smelly, dark, and dead. Nonetheless, Sid's cheery disposition did its best to dispel this impression. "Hiya, sweet pea!" Sid greeted her happily. "Glad you came!"

"Hi, Sid."

"How's that old psycho girlfriend of yours, baby?"

"She's fine."

"Yeah," he sighed wistfully. "I still remember the first time I met her. She was dealing dope in my club and I had her kicked out…later that same night, when I was closing up, she beat the crap out of me." He smiled nostalgically. "The very next day, I hired her as a bouncer. She was the best ever. I've never seen anyone inflict pain and humiliation the way she did!" Tears welled up in his eyes.

"That's a beautiful story, Sid. It gets more beautiful every time you tell it."

"Yeah." He moaned. "Ach, such memories! Now, honeycakes, before we get in too deep here….Zina does know about this, doesn't she?"

The blonde twitched. "Well, not yet. But I swear, Sid, she'll be cool with it. I mean, I'm doing it for her. We need the money to pay off all these fines and stuff about the dog."

"Yeah. Poor Killer."

"Killer?"

"That's the dachshund, sweet cheeks."

Gabrielle shook her head sadly. No wonder they never call him by his name. "It figures," she muttered.

"Okay, angel muffin, shall we get on with the interview?"

"Sure." Gabrielle slipped out of the long raincoat she was wearing, revealing a body clad in a lovely two-piece bikini.

Sid sucked in as much air as he could, as several blood vessels in his head threatened to burst. Having done so, he found himself unable to exhale—he was afraid that if he did so, this woman of sheer perfection might vanish. Or simply run away at the smell of his breath.

"Well?" demanded the poet impatiently, hands on hips.

"Are you kidding, honey?" he wheezed. "Just looking at you takes five years off my life span."

8. Benefits of the Missionary Position

The ritual began.

The lights were dimmed, candles were lit, and empty cans of Rolling Rock were lined up on the floor. Mentally, Zina counted them again. Twenty-four. Yes, that should do nicely. As usual, Gabrielle had requested that Zina play the softest music she had, which, unfortunately, was a tape of Joni Mitchell's Blue that Cyrene had left behind one evening. As the guitars tinkled gently and Joni mumbled something about the wind from Africa, Gabrielle entered. She sat on the bare floor near the cans and assumed the lotus position, while Zina wished that she were watching women's volleyball on ESPN. It wasn't that she really minded helping her girlfriend, once everything got started, but getting there just took so long. The firefighter suppressed a sigh….

…But apparently not well enough. A green eye opened and peered at her in annoyance.

"Sorry," she mumbled. She stretched out along the floor, waiting.

A few minutes passed while Gabrielle continued to meditate. The firefighter was about ready to fall asleep when the poet announced quietly, "I'm ready." The blonde unfurled her body from the yoga position and laid down on her back.

Zina, on her knees, loomed over her beloved. She reached for the first beer can. "Okay." Gently, she placed the can on its side against Gabrielle's bare midriff. It sat there precipitously, its green sheen merely the reflected glory of the poet’s eyes, until the young woman's body jackknifed with amazing speed and power….Zina had seen it happen many times, but it never failed to amaze her: The can was now flatter than the topography of Kansas.

"The Amazing Abs," Zina whispered in reverence. She removed the flattened can.

Gabrielle smiled proudly. "Plus the recycling people love me!" she crowed. "Next!"

Zina placed the second can on the poet's tummy. "Can't wait to see you at the club tomorrow night."

Crunch! "I'm really nervous, baby. I'm so glad you'll be there." Another innocent Rolling Rock can was placed in the abs of death. "I still can't believe"—Crunch! —"you're cool with this. I thought you'd be all pissed and everything."

"Are you crazy? It's like the dream of every red-blooded American dyke. To have a girlfriend who is an exotic dancer! I can go up to any slob in the crowd while they watch you dance, point at you, and say, 'That's my chick, man.' Ha!" she cackled in triumph.

"You're so fucked up," concluded Gabrielle with a sigh. Crunch!

"But you love me anyway," retorted Zina smugly.

"Like the way I love pork rinds: I know they’re bad, but I just can’t resist." The poet affirmed this with another crunch.

Zina pondered this. "That’ll do," she observed, as she selected another can. 9. Thanks for the Mammaries

Sid leaned against a wall in the club. He plucked at his black polyester shirt, which shimmered in the low light, and sighed. She simply isn't getting it, he thought. Such potential—I mean, oy! That body! But…. He had spent the last half an hour watching Gabrielle dance, or do something resembling dancing, and it was about as erotic as watching a spastic have a fit. He stopped the tape deck, and ZZ Top's "Gimme All Your Lovin'" once again died in an abrupt fashion, which mirrored the disjointed style of his private dancer. As silence filled the room, the young woman stumbled in her heels and fell onto her ass. She looked up at Sid helplessly.

"Sweet cheeks," he began warily, "hasn't Zina ever asked you to shake your titties, eh?"

Gabrielle blinked. "What the hell kind of question is that?" she asked, irritated. "It's none of your damn business." Carefully she stood up, hoping that no part of her skimpy bikini was askance; I'm not showing flesh until the meter starts running, she thought.

"Honey thighs, the name of this joint is the Shimmy Shack. You don't have to be goddamn Ginger Rogers to dance here, but…you need to shimmy. You need to shake it up. C'mon, stick 'em out, and vibrate. And later….when you latch onto that pole, you gotta hump it like hell. Okay?"

She stared at the dismal aluminum pole stuck in the middle of the stage. "But…it's a pole."

Sid sighed again, in utter exasperation. "Babycakes, aren't you a writer or somethin'?"

Gabrielle nodded furiously. "Do you need me to write—"

"No, I don't need you to write anything. All I'm saying is—use your imagination. Pretend that pole is Zina's thigh. Pretend all the guys you're dancing for are, like, a big lesbian soccer team or something."

The poet frowned skeptically.

"All right, a big, smelly, drunk lesbian soccer team."

Gabrielle's frown deepened. "All right, Sid. I'll do my best."

Sid smiled; he wasn't buying it. "Shit, sweetheart, I'm sorry you're having a rough time with this. Maybe Natalie can help you."

"Who's Natalie?"

"My best dancer, baby. Look, take a load off, go back in the dressing room. She'll be here soon."

*****

So Gabrielle went back into the bowels of the club, into the tiny dressing room she was to share with about three or four other women. She pulled on her t-shirt—the chilly air had made her nipples so erect and prominent that they could hail a taxi of their own accord. She sat down in front of a mirror. Scattered on the table in front of her were various accouterments of femininity: lipstick, rouge, baby powder, eyeliner, tampons …and a book. She picked it up, curiously—it was entitled A Separate Reality: Further Conversations with Don Juan.

As she started to page through the book, someone quietly entered the room.

"It's a great book," said a woman's voice.

Surprised, Gabrielle gave a little jump, then turned around. A woman with short blonde hair stood in the doorway, wearing jeans and a flannel shirt. Red alert! Red alert! Lesbian in the vicinity! Gabrielle's gaydar screamed. Nervously, the poet placed the book back where she found it. "Was this your book?" she asked the woman. "Sorry, just curious."

"No, no, it's all right," replied the woman. "It's nice to have someone around who's interested in the same thing." She walked over to Gabrielle and offered a hand. "Hi, I'm Natalie. Sid said I'd find you back here." Natalie's grasp was warm and tingly; Gabrielle felt a thumb brush lazily over the veins in the back of her hand. She squirmed slightly, partly uncomfortable and partly…aroused. "Gabrielle, is it?"

"Yeah, that's me." Natalie wouldn't let go of her hand. With a little tug, she finally reclaimed it.

"Cool. Sid said you're a student at the community college."

"I'm majoring in English."

"Wonderful! I used to teach there, you know."

Gabrielle brightened. "Really?"

"Yeah. I taught ethics. But then they got rid of the philosophy department. Cheap bastards. So I'm reduced to doing…this." Natalie waved her hand around the dismal dressing room.

"Sorry."

Natalie unleashed a dazzling smile. "Well, it's certainly not your fault." She began to strip rapidly, tossing her clothes over a lonely chair and revealing a thin, bikini clad form. "Okay, I guess I should show you some moves, like Sid said."

"Uh, sure, that'd be great. And, um, maybe afterward you can tell me all about this book," Gabrielle replied, picking up the Carlos Castaneda tome again.

"Oh, I'd love to!" responded the blonde stripper enthusiastically. She knelt down in front of Gabrielle, between the young poet's legs, and gazed at her with shining eyes. What the hell is she on? Gabrielle wondered, all the while fighting the delicious chills that turned her thighs all goose-pimply. "It's such a wonderful book. One of my favorites. It helps you see the world in a totally different way…"

*****

The blue Volkwagen sputtered to a halt in front of the Shimmy Shack. Cyrene took the keys out of the ignition, and looked over at her daughter, whose knees were pressed uncomfortably against the dash; she had forgotten that cramming Zina in her tiny VW bug was like putting Michael Jordan on a tricycle: It was not a good fit.

"Y'know, this is the kind of place I used to picket in the 70s, Zina," Cyrene grumbled.

"Look, Mom, don't start. She's just doing it for the money." Zina's muscular forearms were folded. While the firefighter was quite happy to show off her lover's body to the world, she was rather concerned that the look, don't touch policy firmly entrenched in her mind—and echoed by Sid's frequent admonitions to the crowd—would fall apart within the reality of the Shimmy Shack. She had been a bouncer too long at the dump to think otherwise. It made her tense. And a tense Zina was a hairsbreadth away from punching out anyone who dared annoy her.

Cyrene sighed. "You owe me for this, honey."

"The White Russians are on me, Mom."

*****

"I-I think I'm getting stage fright," Gabrielle stammered.

"I think you're just nauseous from eating three Snickers bars," Sid rumbled at her.

They were standing backstage. Natalie was on, dancing to "You Spin Me Right Round (Like a Record)."

"Oh shit, Sid…what if I bomb?"

"Honey, you're not gonna bomb. Just remember, you got the bod. You're halfway there. Shimmy the T, wiggle the A, hump the pole, and you'll be fine."

Wild applause and wolf whistles followed the sweaty Natalie as she left the stage. The number of $20 bills stuffed down the enticing pouch of her g-string made her look like she was packing in an odd kind of way. "Whew!" she said to Sid and Gabrielle, pushing damp strands of her blonde hair away from her face. "Those boys are primed now. They'd go nuts even if Shelley Winters went out there and danced."

Gabrielle gave a look of despair.

"Aw, Gabrielle! I'm just kidding!" Natalie hugged her impulsively. In her nervous state, having an attractive sweaty female body rubbing up against her own was almost too much. Almost. Natalie pulled away and all parties present noticed that the poet's nipples were harder than bullets.

"Well, somebody's ready to perform," Sid noted wryly. He patted her behind—Gabrielle resisted the urge to deck him—and headed onto the stage, in order to announce her.

"Just remember your mantra, Gabrielle," Natalie reminded her.

The young blonde nodded. "Yeah…shimmy the T, wiggle the A, hump the pole…" she mumbled.

"Actually I meant the other one we came up with. You know, your personal one: 'love, pop-tarts, and peace.' "

"Oh. Right. But hey, Natalie, like, aren't you supposed to not say it out loud?"

"Aw, shit!" the former professor winced.

"Gentlemen, we have a new performer tonight…I'd like you to give a warm welcome to…GABRIELLE!"

The poet stumbled toward the stage, and hesitated; her nerves felt so exposed that she imagined them—and not her body—bathed in lurid swaths of multicolored stage lights.

"Go toward the light!" Natalie shouted.

And which fucking light was that?

*****

"Wow, man, that was awesome," Cyrene babbled as she and Zina wound their way through dark hallways to the dressing room. "I mean, I never knew that she was so—" Cyrene's hands cupped imaginary breasts.

"Mom, shut the fuck up. You are seriously freaking me out," Zina retorted, while pondering the closed door in front of her. Her blood seethed with lust…who knew Gabrielle could dance so seductively? Zina had only ever witnessed the pogo-like maneuvers of the poet as she did the "Blitzkrieg Bop" to her favorite Ramones song. But now, she wanted nothing more than do ravish her companion…after that.

She kicked open the door. Cyrene rolled her eyes. Drama queen.

Zina's baby blues were greeted by the sight of Natalie painting Gabrielle's toenails while the poet pored over the Castaneda book. She did not miss the adoring look that the strange blonde woman was giving to her scantily-clad girlfriend, even though Gabrielle was clearly clueless to the attentions of the ex-professor. Indeed, if Oblivion were a town, Gabrielle would be mayor.

Nonetheless, at the startling sound of the door bursting open, both women turned their attention to the dark-haired firefighter.

"Baby!" Gabrielle squealed. "What did ya think?" She jumped up and ran over to Zina. The furious exchange of saliva prompted Natalie to read the label on the bottle of Dangerous Pomegranate nail polish and Cyrene to examine a selection of tassels hanging from the wall.

Zina broke off the kiss. "You were fantastic, baby. The best ever."

"Thanks…hey, I made almost $25 in tips!" she pointed to the bureau, littered with crumpled currency.

"That's great!"

"Yeah, I mean, I can't believe it…couple more weeks, we should have your fine paid off."

"Er, Gabrielle, why don't you introduce me to your—partner?" Natalie piped up unctuously.

" 'Partner?' " echoed Zina. "We don't work together. We sleep together."

She glowered at Natalie.

"Oh, uh, Zina, this is Natalie…she, uh, used to teach at Olympus." Nervously, Gabrielle looked from one woman to the other. Her new "mentor" and her beloved were not getting on well at all. "Honey, Natalie taught me how to dance. Ain't it great?"

Zina arched an eyebrow. Natalie smirked. "Yeah, great," muttered the firefighter.

"Well, I'm off…" said the blonde stripper breezily. She sailed past the three women, giving Gabrielle a wink. "See you tomorrow, Gabrielle." And she was gone.

Gabrielle disentangled herself from Zina. "You coulda been nicer, you know," she chastised sullenly, as she slipped on a t-shirt.

"I never said I was a nice person," Zina shot back.

In the interim, Cyrene had noticed the book lying on the bureau. She picked it up. "Oh man!" she cackled. "I haven't seen this used as a seduction technique since 1972!"

"Whaddya mean, seduction?" snarled Zina. Her blue eyes snapped to Gabrielle. Who looked away.

"Don't be silly, Cyrene," scoffed Gabrielle. "Excuse me, I have to go see Sid about my schedule for next week." With a cultivated, haughty air borne of careful examination of Joan Collins in Dynasty, the exotic dancer left the room.

Zina half-leaned, half-sat against the makeup table, looking defeated. "Shit, Mom."

Ah, my articulate child. "Look, honey, who knows what this chick is all about. But I'm sure Gabrielle is happy with you…and doesn't want to look elsewhere."

"I'm not so sure," mumbled the firefighter. "Maybe she needs to be with someone…like that. You know, who reads and stuff. Who understands poetry."

"…And who doesn't sit in an open pot of rouge." Cyrene concluded, nodding at Zina's behind. Zina jumped up, cursing. Her mother patted her arm affectionately. "I'll wait outside, in the car." The older woman ambled out the door.

*****

After confirming her schedule with Sid for the following week, Gabrielle was about to return to her dressing room when she was intercepted at the bar.

"Sweetie!" shrieked Chad, her fellow homo student at OCCC. He hugged Gabrielle. "You were fabulous!" Gabrielle was relieved to note that Chad wore no incendiary t-shirts, like I'M NOT GAY BUT MY ACADEMIC ADVISOR IS (an advertisement actually true). Although sporting a lilac-colored Ralph Lauren Polo shirt among the Shimmy Shack crowd was asking to be noticed.

"Aw, Chad, you came! I'm really glad."

"Oh, mary…" He took her face in his hands. "You have no idea how many screwdrivers I had to get through this…"

Vodka-influenced breath wafted over her. She blanched. "Yes, Chad. Yes I do."

"But Good God, Gab. I didn't know Natalie Hood was strutting her stuff here too."

"Hey, so you know her?"

Chad's eyes widened. "Oh yeah…man, I'm so glad they fired her."

"Fired? She told me they closed the philosophy department."

"Oh. that little liar!" Chad exclaimed petulantly. "No, she was canned for sexual harassment. She would pick a student she liked, and try to seduce them. You know, say she'd give them a higher grade." His thin lips trembled. "She even tried it with me once!"

"Duh, can't she tell you're gay?"

"That's what I said!" Chad wailed.

Gabrielle frowned in thought. Maybe Zina was right not to be suspicious of her. I mean, the big dope is right about some things…I should give her more credit. "Chad, I gotta go…I have to finish dressing" –the collective eyes of the bar were devouring her bikini'ed bottom, making her nervous—"and Zina's waiting for me."

" 'Kay, sweetie…Tell Zina I said hi, and that I want a date with a firefighter real soon."

When Gabrielle returned to the dressing room, Zina was swatting her Levi-clad butt with a towel.

"Baby, what the hell are you doing?"

"I got…stuff on my ass." Upon closer examination, the poet saw that some reddish powder clung to the denim. She chuckled. Zina scowled.

"I swear, you're like a big kid sometimes…" Gabrielle took the towel from her companion's hands. She dampened a corner with some bottled water left behind by Natalie, then successfully removed the powder. "Maybe this'll teach you not to sit on things a body shouldn't be sitting on."

"Yeah, right," grumbled Zina.

They were quiet for almost a minute.

"Do you…like her?" prompted the firefighter quietly. To mask her nervousness—which only emphasized it even more—she toyed with a stray cosmetic applicator…what it was exactly, she had no frigging idea.

"Who? Natalie?"

"Well, yeah."

Gabrielle shrugged. "I guess I did at first. I thought she was kinda cool…"

"And you thought she was cute."

" Yeah, she's cute…but so what? I just saw Chad outside, and he told me she's really an asshole."

"Really?" Zina frowned. "I had a bad feeling about her."

"You were right, honey. I'm sorry." The poet wrapped her arms around Zina's waist and propped her chin on the firefighter's broad shoulder. "So, um, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you jealous or anything. I love you, you big jerk."

Zina grinned. "And I love you too, you little bitch." She exhaled with relief. "Wow…so I was right about her, huh?" Gabrielle nodded. "I'm glad I'm right about something."

"You have good instincts, Zina. Except about your own strength."

"Huh?"

Gabrielle nodded at Zina's hand. Which was covered in inky black stuff. "You just crushed my eyeliner."

*****

Three weeks passed and the appropriate funds were procured, upon which Killer was sprung from the pound. Now, Boris was sprawled happily in the backyard with his dog. "There's my boy," he cooed, as Killer charged at him, the dachshund's ears flopping merrily.

"Your move," Zina grunted. The firefighter sat at the picnic table, where a chessboard lay before her. She had spent 20 minutes pondering how to put Boris into check. Having failed this particular objective, she opted for rearranging some of his pieces.

With a sigh, Boris stood up and returned to their chess match. Tomorrow he was off to Brussels for another tournament, with Killer in tow, and had decided to get in some practice with Zina before leaving. She was a good player, he admitted to himself, but her endgame was a weakness: She would grow impatient and then, ultimately, lose.

He sat down in front of the board and frowned, glaring at her. She simpered. He restored his knight and queen to their original positions.

Meanwhile, inside the farmhouse, Gabrielle was fending off Sid's advances, such as they were: "But, honey tits, are you sure you wanna hang up your G-string? You're my most popular dancer now!" the club owner protested as he stood in the kitchen and watched the lovely blonde make chocolate chip cookies.

"It's tempting, Sid…"

"I'll say."

Gabrielle stopped mixing cookie dough. "What do you mean by that?" she demanded.

"I got a good look at that car of yours. Oy, baby. An Escort? And it's gotta be rustier than Jesse Helms's dick."

A new car would be nice…Her lips twitched, but she said nothing.

Sid stroked his beard thoughtfully. He knew she was tempted. He decided to try another offer. "Look, sweetie, you know…I make movies too." He sidled up next to her. "And the money for that is even bigger than the dancing!" he whispered gleefully.

Gabrielle dropped her wooden spoon, covered in yummy cookie dough gunk. "You want me to be in porno?" she sputtered.

"Baby lamb, just one film will net you close to ten thou. You could buy yourself a Saturn, for God's sake!"

Her expression remained doubtful.

Damn. I almost had her. "Look, Gab, it's not really porno. It's erotica. There's a difference, y'know. Smart girl like you should know that." Still, she looked less than convinced as she rinsed off the wooden spoon. "This film that I want you to be in…it's ground-breaking, sugar cake. It really is. I can honestly say that there is no other film like it in existence. It touches me on a deep, religious level—in fact, I consider it a service to my people, because it's the first of its kind." Her green eyes fluttered with intrigue. He grinned. "You wanna know what it is?" he said eagerly.

"Yeah!" she exclaimed, caught up in his enthusiasm.

"The first ever Orthodox Jewish erotic film: Rabbi or Not, Here I Come."

Gabrielle groaned. "Jesus, Sid."

"Now that's one personage who will not be in this film." She shook her head and wiped her hands on a kitchen towel. "Come on, Hasidim deserve to have lively sex lives too, you know."

Through the back door Gabrielle saw a flash of movement: It was Zina, pinning Boris to the ground and trying to jam a rook into his ear. "Poor baby, she lost again," the poet murmured.

Sid noticed this too. "Ah, good old Zina. Making the world a little more dangerous," he sighed appreciatively.

"Yep, good old Zina," Gabrielle agreed happily.

"Who's that fine-looking fellow, babycakes? I think he would make a good rabbi."

Gabrielle flung open the back door. "Zina! Boris! Both of you knock it off, or no cookies!"

"She started it!" shouted Boris.

Zina sulked from her position, sitting on Boris's chest. Angrily he slapped her muscular thigh. "Get off me, you eeediot! I want cookies!"

She raised an eyebrow in disdain, and stood up.

Sid bustled past Gabrielle. "Zina, baby, what do you think of your girlfriend starring in a porn movie of her own? Eh?"

The blue eyes froze. Sid raised his hands in hapless self-defense. "But sugar lump, I got this great idea...maybe you could play the rabbi who seduces Gabrielle..." Sid brightened at his own idea. "This is great," he murmured to himself. "It increases the kink factor!"

"Rabbi?" Both dark eyebrows lifted, and a strange expression came over Zina's lovely face. With a shock, Gabrielle realized her lover was...thinking.

"Zina!" she cried. "You can't be serious!"

"Well, why not? You were real good in that home video we made—"

From his position on the ground, Boris nodded vigorously. "I agree! It was a wonderful performance!"

The blonde poet went pale. "You showed him...the tape?" Many months ago, a rainy Sunday and a borrowed video camera had yielded a long-playing tape filled with about five hours of frenetic sex, fifteen minutes of arguing, twenty minutes of eating pizza, and twenty-five minutes of Gabrielle napping and snoring between orgasms.

"Well, when Hank and Effie saw it they both thought that you were faking it in that one scene, you know, the one with the"—the firefighter made a vague hand gesture which could have represented anything from a kumquat to a plastic water gun—"and Ed wasn't sure, so I wanted another opinion..."

"For myself, I must say I was very convinced!" Boris declared solemnly. "A scream like that, it comes from the heart. Or someplace, um, similar."

"That’s what Mom said too." Zina replied, feeling affirmed.

Sid, hands on hips, whined, "Now why haven't I seen this?"

Zina recognized the fury in her companion's green eyes and, throwing down the gauntlet of a shit-eating grin, took off running.

"Oh, you better run!" Gabrielle shouted after her. "'Cause someone's gonna be on the receiving end of the strap-on tonight, and it ain't me, missy!" Which is probably exactly what she wants anyway. As she dashed into the twilight, leaving the menfolk alone with the cookie dough, Gabrielle felt her anger dissipate as she followed the unmistakable laughter of the firefighter.

THE END

#xena #xena warrior princess #xena/gabrielle #xena/gabrielle fanfiction #author: vivian darkbloom #mature #femslash #fanfiction

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hollyoaksloversx · 5 years

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Protesting, Prom Proposals and Alison Hammond...

Rounding up a week in Hollyoaks (10th-14th June 2019)

Ste’s life went from bad to worse this week as he fell further under the spell of the far right. Things were going well for Ste at the start of the week. Stuart had just invited him and the kids on an all expenses paid holiday to Florida and he also had the march to look forward to. However, Peri and Yasmine soon got wind of what was happening and contacted the police in an attempt to get the march stopped. Unfortunately, the girls were told that, as Stuart and Jonny had obtained the necessary permits, there was nothing they could do. Funnily enough, it would be Ste’s own actions which would put a spanner in the works. After a run in with Walter and Lisa at the shop, which saw the place trashed, the police were called and they made the decision to cancel the march, angering Stuart and Jonny. Keen to show them what he was made off, Ste decided to organise his own protest...

Wanting to be seen as a respectable group, Stuart had a list of known trouble makers banned from marching with them. Not caring one jot about the group’s image, Ste threw caution to the wind and invited all and sundry. As the march got underway, thugs tore through the village, trashing the place as business owners, Tony, Diane and Walter, locked their doors. As things got more and more out of hand, Ste appeared disturbed by the turn of events, but still decided to put a brick through The Hutch’s window. Ste was arrested and, on his release, Stuart informed him that he wanted nothing more to do with him, pointing out that he had done their image more harm than good. Ste then found himself even more alone when Tony finally turned his back on him too...

With Ste at his lowest ebb, Peri decided to invite him back into the bosom of his family and invited him for a meal at The Hutch. However, Ste got drunk and failed to show up. The following day, Jonny and Stuart decided to test Ste’s commitment to the group when they sent a fellow member round to pose as a policeman in an attempt to see if Ste would be tempted to spill the beans. Despite being offered money to work as an informant, Ste refused to speak about the group. Stuart was so impressed by Ste’s loyalty, that he arranged for him to get the group’s symbol tattooed on his arm in a weird sort of ceremony complete with candles. With Ste well and truly back under the group’s spell, Peri decided to look for evidence that would prove that Jonny and Ste were not related...

Meanwhile, there was much excitement at Hollyoaks High as plans for prom got underway. Ollie was mortified when he realised that Brooke was expecting a ‘prom-proposal’ from him, and Juliet used his lack of thought to place doubts in her mind about their relationship. Luckily, Ollie came good just in time but Juliet soon found a new way to cause trouble for her so-called friend. Knowing how much Brooke’s exams meant to her, Juliet pretended to have forgotten her calculator on the morning of the maths exam. Telling Brooke she was going home to get it, Juliet begged her to wait for her, before promptly heading inside the school. Brooke did eventually go to the exam room but was left devastated when she realised she was too late to sit her exam. Spurred on by Juliet, Brooke lied to Sally that a meltdown had caused her to miss the exam, but this had no effect, and Brooke was told that she would have to resit the exam next year. In another dastardly deed, Juliet went on to tell Nancy that Ollie was distracting Brooke from her work, causing Nancy to question whether the pair should continue to see each other...

Elsewhere, there was a special guest in the village this week when This Morning’s Alison Hammond arrived to interview Maxine about her ‘illness’. Fed up with not getting enough attention at her engagement party, Maxine orchestrated an argument with Damon before running home and contacting This Morning with her sob story. Viewers were apparently so touched by Maxine’s plight that they raised £5000 for her and Alison turned up to present Maxine with the cheque. Maxine was delighted by her five minutes of fame but her happiness didn’t last long when she received a phone call from the hospital asking her to come in. Ever since he met Maxine, Mitchell’s been determined to get to the bottom of her ‘illness’ but has since realised that he can’t do it alone and called on his former uni tutor, Levi. Apparently, he’s an expert in mystery illnesses and will be able to finally figure out what’s ‘killing’ Maxine...

In other news this week, Laurie continued to cause trouble at the school when he accused Sienna of putting up inflammatory posters about him, and later caused Sally to loose her temper with him in front of a group of students. Walter was less than impressed to discover that Lisa had spent the night with Liam and, finally, Breda panicked when Jack asked her to move in with him.

5 Things We Learned This Week:

1. There’s so much pressure put on teenagers today. Exam stress, social media, friendship and relationship issues, and now they’ve got ‘prom-proposals’ to worry about too. Who’d be a teenager nowadays?

2. Tom is terrified of dogs. I was quite impressed initially when Tom arrived home and was immediately spooked by the presence of Bronzer, thinking that the show had remembered that Tom was bitten by a dog years ago. But nope, it wasn’t mentioned.

3. This Morning could do a whole special about the residents of Hollyoaks’ personal lives. As Alison Hammond arrived to interview Maxine, Juliet immediately tried to hog the limelight, telling the presenter that she was far more interesting as her Mum was in prison for murdering her Dad. This Morning would have an absolute field day with those McQueen’s...

4. Hollyoaks are reusing scripts again. What is it with villains in this show getting their dodgy mates to pose as police officers in an attempt to test the loyalty of new recruits? We saw pretty much those exact scenes not that long ago with Liam and Prince and now we’re seeing them again with Ste.

5. What does Nana’s dream man look like? A cross between Popeye and a garden gnome. How lovely...

Characters Featured:

Breda, Brody, Brooke, Courtney, Damon, Diane, DJ, Goldie, Grace, Hannah, Imran, Jack, Jonny, Juliet, Laurie, Leah, Leela, Levi, Liam, Liberty, Lisa, Lucas, Maxine, Mercedes, Mitchell, Nana McQueen, Nancy, Oliver, Oscar, Peri, Sally, Scott, Sid, Sienna, Ste, Stuart, Sylver, Tom, Tony, Walter and Yasmine.

Past Characters Mentioned:

Amy Barnes, Pauline Hay, Neeta Kaur, Ryan Knight, Tegan Lomax, Jacqui McQueen, Mitzeee Minniver, Mac Nightingale, Finn O’Connor, Frankie Osborne, Max Owen, Donna-Marie Quinn, Shane Sweeney, Darcy Wilde.

#Hollyoaks #Highlight #Ste Hay #Jonny Baxter #Leela Lomax #Peri Lomax #Tony Hutchinson #Diane O'Connor #Maxine Minniver #Damon Kinsella #Brooke Hathaway #Oliver Morgan #Ollie Morgan #Stuart Sumner

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reginaldbelchhuggins-blog · 7 years

Text

The Short and Miserable Romance of Victor Criss

Chapter 5: Last Kiss

Pairings: Henry x Victor, with some side Butch x Mrs Criss Rating: M Warnings for this chapter: Implied/referenced character death, bullying, implied/referenced violence,

Implied/referenced domestic abuse, period-typical attitudes, homophobic language, noncon elements, underage sex, underage drinking, violence, and child abuse Warnings for later chapters: Violence, homophobia, racism, and sexism that are all period-typical; canon-standard content; underage sex, smoking, and drinking; noncon elements (but no actual noncon); canonical character death; major character death; strong language Chapters: [1], [2], 3, [4], [5], [6], [7] Ao3: [x] Summary:

Told from Victor's perspective, each chapter details either a first or last moment of Vic's growing relationship with Henry Bowers as they navigate homophobia, mental issues, and the growing influence of It. The first two chapters are pre-1988, the middle two will be where the sex is, and the final two are where the romance goes south

Chapter 7 could act as a stand-alone told from Henry’s perspective

Story prompt: The first and last Meeting/Kiss/Time of your OTP

A/N: I had a completely different version of this chapter up on Ao3 until my roommate was able to properly edit it. This is the new version:

June 1989

The summer sun was bearing down on the town, making everything hot, and everyone sticky. The people who weren’t inside found themselves drifting to Bassey Park, where picnics were being had, or the field behind the Tracker Bros, where one could win $20, if they were lucky, on a game of scratch ball.

The three teens found themselves somewhere in between, near the Derry Community House, standing around the large trees and monuments, not really feeling like doing anything; the fourth was lying belly-down on the grass, kicking his feet like he did when he was five and was scribbling out a picture for his mother. The slightest breeze caught their shirts or hair every now and then, but it was the treats they were munching on that was keeping them cool.

Belch and Patrick both had ice cream, but were experiencing it in vastly different ways. Belch was taking big, slurping licks from a two scoop cone with vanilla and chocolate, making it swirl on his tongue. His was truly a race against time and gravity to catch every drop as it melted, but so far, he hadn’t missed a single one. Patrick had made the smarter choice of a plastic bowl over a cone, but he sat there and watched it melt. Once it was effectively just cream, his tongue snaked out of his mouth in short little bursts, lapping it up. He rested his chin on his hands, laced beneath it, elbows far enough apart his neck barely moved as he dipped low enough to drink comfortably.

For Victor, his treat was an orange soda. He’d gotten used to the feeling of his braces, but was more aware of them with every sip than he’d been since he got them.

No soda without a straw, but I’d prefer none at all, the Dentist had said. Well, fuck him. It was hot outside, and food just didn’t seem that tempting.

Swallowing a mouth full of metal corroding orange flavored acid, Victor leaned against the tree in such a way his bangs were covering most of his face. He stood like this on purpose, so that he could watch Henry eating a Rocket Pop without being too obvious.

Henry’s mouth had turned red from sucking and nibbling on the tip of it. It was both beautiful and obscene. Unaware that he had an audience, Henry took the pop down halfway through the white portion, slurped up some of the melted juice, and then bit off the remainder of the red as he pulled it out. Even as his face contorted when brain freeze struck, it was filling Vic's belly with a dangerous warmth, and his mind with dangerous ideas.

"Can I have a sip of that?” Patrick asked. Vic made a Hmm sound as he turned to look at the boy who spoke. It took Victor a few moments to realize what he was talking about.

Patrick, not waiting for an answer, crossed his arms in front of his chest and rolled over. Now at Victor’s feet, his opened his mouth wide. Vic tipped his drink until a cautiously-sized stream was pouring down. It fell perfectly between Patrick's lips, hitting the back of his throat with an odd, but satisfying, sound. Patrick didn’t swallow, but let his mouth fill. When he'd had enough, he closed his mouth, his cheeks puffing as he pushed the liquid into them. He then rolled back over, and spat out every last drop into the bowl of cream.

“That’s gross,” Belch observed, with a flat tone. Victor giggled at Belch's delivery of the line.

“It’s just like a root beer float,” Patrick said, licking his lips. “Nothing like a good soda pop right into that tasty, tasty cream. Wouldn’t you agree, Vic?”

Henry's attention was sudden. He searched Vic, though for what, Vic didn't know. He turned it over in his mind, and found nothing overtly sexual or flirty – nothing that would’ve triggered some kind of jealousy or judgement. Instead of giving any insight, Henry scooted away from Vic a little bit, and went back to his Popsicle, his shoulders a little stiffer. It was a small thing, but Vic felt it like a punch to the stomach.

Belch made a smacking noise as he took a bite out of his cone. “Even grosser,” he said, with a full mouth.

Like popping a balloon with a bullet, things were back to normal with sudden ferocity, with the exception of Henry’s demeanor. Patrick was back to lapping up his melted float, Belch was absently licking away, and Henry was trying to look cool, his one arm across his chest and his one leg propped against the tree. Victor sucked up the last of his soda, and then scooted a little closer to Henry.

Henry pushed away from the tree, and started walking towards the trash. Vic stared after him, trying to figure out if it was on purpose or if it was a coincidence. The thought that he could've done something to make Henry want to avoid him was more stressful than Vic wanted to admit.

Stepping over Patrick, Henry headed towards the barrel the park used for a public trash. He looked in, and then dropped in his rocket pop. Absently, he kicked a ball of paper that someone had thrown beside the trash. It scampered across the grass and into Patrick, who looked like he was going to throw it, until he abruptly changed his mind.

Patrick began to unroll it, and smooth it out on the grass beside him. Vic recognized what it was before he even saw the familiar grayscale photo.

"Eddie Corcoran's missing poster," Belch said. Victor looked around, trying to locate the usual spots for the posters: the street lamp, the side of the outdoor restrooms, the buildings in the distant... they were all bare.

Henry plucked another ball from the pile and opened it up. Eddie's face stared up at him from that one, too. And the next. Even the one after that. Henry dropped each poster after unrolling it, stopping only once there were at least seven on the ground around him.

"Who would throw these away?" Patrick asked.

"Does it matter?" Henry asked, void of emotion. "In a few days there's going to be a new face being hung up everywhere, and nobody'll care about these assholes anymore."

"Yeah, but that ain't right," Belch said.

"Doesn't matter if it's right," Henry's voice was sharp, almost angry. It left no room for argument. "It's what's going to happen. Just like the Stuttering Freak's little brother and everyone else. They're gonna care for a few hours, and that's it."

Patrick's leg was cocked in the air, frozen mid-swing. He stared at Eddie's sideways photo, tracing the edges with his finger.

"What do you think it's like?" He asked, his fingers working out a stubborn wrinkle across Eddie's face. "Dying, I mean."

Belch'S face blanched, and his shoulders fell, as if someone had placed weights, heavy , even for him, across them.

"Maybe death came so fast they didn’t notice," Victor suggested, not knowing what else to say.

Victor didn't think about death often, not even with it happening all around them. When he did think of it, it was some far away thing. He knew it was coming, and he had some ideas about how it might happen, but it wasn't something he expected to be waiting around the corner at age 15. None of them did.

Henry was staring at the ground, his lips pressed together in a thin line. It was his give away that he was uncomfortable with the subject.

"It's just funny," Patrick said, a little laugh breaking up his words. "To think you could be living your last day on Earth, and not know it."

"SHUT UP PATRICK!" It was Belch who snapped. "Jesus crow, can we just talk about anything else?"

Victor wasn’t frightened when Belch raised his voice. But Henry stepping forward, quiet, staring at Belch with a wide-eyed glare was enough to send a shiver down Vic’s spine. Instead of snapping back, or yelling, Henry’s voice lifted up, calm, cool, and casual.

“Hey, so, a salesman is driving to his home from a long trip when he sees this Indian on the side of the road, thumbing for a ride. A little lonely, he stops the car and the Indian gets in. After a bit of small talk, the Indian notices a brown bag on the front seat.

“‘What’s in the bag?’ he asks.

“The salesman says, ‘it’s a bottle of wine. I got it for my wife.’

“The Indian is silent for a moment, and then says, ‘good trade.’”

It takes a few seconds for it to register that Henry had just told a joke. Not because he didn’t tell them often, but due more to the emotional residue of their previous topic of conversation. When it finally does hit them, Patrick is the first to laugh. High-pitched and full of such glee, his laugh draws out the one from Vic, given in equal parts nervousness and amusement. Belch is last, but laughs so hard tears build up in his eyes.

“Wait wait, I got a good one—”

As Belch told the story of the Traveling Salesman and the Farmer’s Daughter, a vaguely familiar form came wiggling through Vic's line of sight about a block behind Belch. He almost looked away, thinking nothing of it. But something held his eyes, told him to really look.

Squinting and shielding his eyes from the sun, Vic saw that sure enough, who Vic thought it was was exactly who it was: the chubby little new kid who refused to help Henry with the test. Things clicked into place for Victor in that moment.

Henry and Patrick were howling at Belch’s joke. Belch broke out into a huge smile, pleased with himself. When Vic started speaking, though, they all seemed to know it was for something different, and more exciting.

"Hey, Hank, I spy with my little eye something round and due for payback," Vic said, gesturing with his head. Henry looked in that direction. He didn’t smile with his mouth, but his eyes became clear, sparkling with that glint of mischief. When he looked back at Victor, there was warmth, even pride.

“Let’s get ‘im,” Patrick said, standing up. His lighter was already in his hand. His voice was soft, nearly a whisper, as he said, “I got something I want to show him.”

“Hold on, he’s going into the library,” Henry said, his tone thoughtful. He bit off his thumbnail chewing on it as the gears turned in his head. “I got a plan.”

Everything happened so fast, it felt like it wasn’t real.

They had waited for Tits Hanscom – whatever his real name was – to emerge from the library. When they pounced, Vic took his left arm, and Belch took his right. They lifted all 190 pounds of him off the ground. As they carried him to the kissing bridge, they passed him around, tormenting him. Patrick pulled Tits’ shirt over his head, and Vic drummed on his meaty stomach. Then Vic was dragging him, and Patrick was digging his boot into Tits’ ass.

The kid wasn’t having fun, but they were. They didn’t even feel slightly guilty about it, either. Not until later, when they'd head time to really think about what it was leading up to.

The closer they got to the canal, the less Victor felt like he was in control. It wasn’t his choice to press Tits into the kissing bridge and hold him there – it was just something he was doing. When Patrick was setting off fireballs with his can of hairspray and lighter, Victor should've stepped forward and smacked it out of his hands, but something held his legs in place. When Henry was pulling out his knife, Victor saw, but he didn't comprehend.

Henry wouldn't really hurt the kid, Victor believed at the time. He knew better now.

If Vic had realized Henry was dragging his knife across Tits’ skin, he didn't realize it was actually cutting.

But he didn’t want to think about that. He also didn’t want to think about how Henry's face had twisted and contorted until it was Butch's face. Spittle flying from his mouth, his voice sounding raw as he screamed, “Shut uuup!”

The look on Belch’s face had jarred Vic back to reality. He’d never seen Belch scared before, and he never wanted to see it again.

Leveling a dark look at Henry, Victor loosened his grip on the New Kid's arm; Belch saw, and followed suit. The New Kid dug his sneaker into Henry's gut, and used it as a spring board to flip backwards, his arms slipping freely from the two. He somersaulted over the railing, and hit the ground, rolling down the hill at the bottom of the bridge, and into the Barrens.

Vic hung back as Henry leaped after him, followed by a howling Patrick. He and Belch exchanged a glance that contained multiple conversations: Were they okay with this? No. What had they been doing, exactly? They didn’t know. Was Henry really going to carve his whole name into someone’s cottage cheese? Sure looked like it. Were they going to let Henry and Patrick catch the kid? Fuck no.

On that, they were over the edge too, kicking up dirt as they tried to keep their balance on the descent, watching Henry failing and falling only a few feet ahead of them—

That had been hours ago.

“PATRICK! PATRICK HOCKSTETTER!” Officer Conley shouted, his hands cupped over his mouth.

Vic was ankle deep in Derry’s shit water, a flashlight in one hand as he reached into the area below the sewer drain, trying to find the shiny thing Belch had spotted. He scooped out a handful of slimy dirt, and rinsed it in the stream. It wasn’t Patrick’s lighter, but someone else’s. Belch tapped Vic’s shoulder, and as the blond stood, he handed it over so Belch could see.

“Not his,” Belch said. He walked off, joining the two Officers Butch had assigned to them, not really believing that Patrick hadn't run away, or the story of just how things came to be. Belch’s voice broke through the night air high-pitched and sounding more scared than Vic had ever heard it before as he searched the underbrush. “PATRICK!”

Victor felt tired in a way that transcended his physical existence. Patrick had been armed. Then, when Henry split them up, he sent Belch with Patrick – Belch, the biggest, and strongest, of them all.

The odds were in their favor. Yet, somehow, Patrick was just gone. The Pervert had gotten around the flame thrower, gotten around Patrick's sharp eyes and rabbit-punches, and snatched him away to do God-knows-what to him before killing him.

And it was Vic's fault.

If he hadn't pointed out Tits to Henry, or wasted their time burying Henry's knife...

Using the dry part of his arm, Vic wiped some sweat from his brow, and then raised the light to look down into the sewer pipe. He thought he’d heard something splashing, but the water appeared undisturbed.

It didn’t smell like sewer – it smelled like rotten Earth. Pungent and sharp, Victor found himself thinking of Henry’s basement. Or more specifically, of the thing at the bottom of the stairs. The thing he never quite saw, but had known was there. He knew it the same as any child knew something was under their bed, or lurking in their closet. He could feel it watching him.

He didn’t see it again sitting in the bushes across the Kenduskeag, moments before Belch came thundering up towards them, his face red. He had begun to see it, though. Digging deep into his memories, he could almost make out the shape and color of it. Something... silver. With orange polka dots. Polka dots? No. Not polka dots: pompoms. Big orange pom poms in a crooked row down its chest—

“Hey, what are you doing?”

A light struck the wall and Vic jumped back, startled by a movement in his peripheral. For just a moment, he swore he saw it again, moving faster than his eyes could comprehend. He swung his own flashlight around, and then let out a puff of breath.

Jumped at his own shadow is what he’d done.

Feeling stupid, Victor turned his light over to see who was at the opening of the sewer. He wasn't sure whether he was relieved or not to see Henry.

He started walking back towards his boyfriend. He’d been so lost in his thoughts, he had somehow crossed nearly seven feet of sewage without realizing he was moving at all. Henry didn’t move the light from Vic, aiming it low so Vic could see where he was stepping. He did click it off when Vic was sliding out of the pipe, but only so he could stick it in his pocket and take Vic’s instead.

When fresh air struck Vic's face, he had to roll his eyes at himself again. How he could’ve mistaken that smell for something Earthen was beyond him, because he definitely smelled like shit. The pipe smelled like shit. Everything smelled like shit. It was in his nose.

"Why are you alone?" Henry asked, his voice tilting on the side of anger over concern. Victor looked around, realizing everyone had moved downstream. Henry waited for Vic to grasp the situation before grabbing Vic's neck roughly, digging his fingers in the back. A small, pained noise escaped as Henry pulled him in close. Close enough to kiss. "God dammit, Vic. That is exactly what got Patrick killed!”

“Let go of me, asshole!” Victor wanted to yell. His hands were even on their way up to plant themselves against Henry’s shoulders and shove him back, emphasizing his words. Instead, he took two fistfuls of Henry’s shirt, and pressed his face into it. Henry’s fingers loosened, letting him.

Henry’s shirt didn’t smell like sewer, or Earth. It smelled like suave soap, and Henry’s natural scent, strong from him sweating all day, unbarred by deodorant. Victor felt dizzy as he drew in a deep whiff, trying not to cry.

He loved that smell more than anything in the world. It made him feel safe, secure… loved…

“I’m sorry,” Victor said, closing his eyes, wanting to drift away like he’d done earlier. "I thought I saw something."

"If he was running away for some reason, seems like a good place to hide," Henry said. He was contemplating something, making his words slow. "But if he's hiding down there, he's going to have to wait. You go in there without a map and you'll starve to death before anyone'd find you.”

Victor sighed. “I know.”

“Vic,” Henry said, he voice falling into a cautious tone. "Were you and Patrick... did you guys... did he..."

Henry never finished any of his sentences, but he didn't need to. Vic's brow furrowed. He pulled back from Henry just enough to try and read his face in the dark.

"No," Victor let out a soft laugh. Henry wasn't laughing, though. When he looked at Vic, he was more serious than Victor had ever seen him. "Wait, do you really think I'd cheat on you?"

Henry shrugged. Vic waited on some kind of elaboration. When none came, he abruptly pulled away from Henry, anger bubbling up inside. Vic didn't know what he was going to do, but his hands were clenching into fists, and he had words forming in his mouth to throw at Henry for thinking that Victor would ever do that to him. Then Henry looked up, his ears twitching like a rabbit listening to the predator growing closer. Vic’s reflexes told him to shut up and step away. Henry shined the light across the stream, searching the underbrush for whatever made the noise that drew his attention. In one moment, they realized there was nothing there; in the next, they knew that was wrong. There was something there, they just couldn't see it. In the darkness, Henry looked calm, but Vic could feel Henry squeezing in fear as their hands closed around each other’s.

Soon, they were moving to catch up to everyone else. Or, more accurately, to get away from that area and the sewer pipe, and the feeling of being watched. Henry's legs were taking long strides, and Vic was in a near jog, the two boys were side-by-side, slapping mosquitos off their arms whenever they felt a tickle. As Henry started to veer off, and the distance between them grew, Victor found himself dwelling on Henry's words. When he looked at Henry, he felt love, sure. But there was now a pettiness. He thought of nasty things to say, and nasty things he could do, to make Henry feel even slightly the way he'd made Victor feel.

Him and Patrick? Really? It wasn't that Patrick wasn't attractive, but it was that Henry thought so little of Victor. As if Victor didn't tell him every moment he could that he loved Henry. As if Victor didn't go out of his way to do things that made Henry happy, even if they weren't exactly Victor's favorite thing. As if Victor was the one cruising around with girls, fucking girls only hours before fucking Henry, and not the other way around.

That Henry could even justify that thought for a second didn't just make him angry. It made Victor want to destroy things. He settled for kicking some kid's lost and dingy teddy bear as they came across it.

Henry’s voice was harsh, whispering, "From now on, you don't go anywhere alone. I don't care if it's to get the fucking mail, you fucking get someone to stand guard." His voice cracked as he said, "I can't lose you, too."

"Sure, Hank," Vic answered, spitting out each word.

"Hey, I'm serious. This isn't just some bullshit. If that guy can get Patrick, you don't stand a fuckin' chance," Henry said. So Vic repeated himself, "Sure."

Henry walked close enough to cup Victor’s chin, tilting his head up. Vic knew it was coming, and though he was tempted to jerk his head away, he didn't stop it. Henry brought their lips together. Victor wanted to enjoy it, to kiss back, but he wanted his anger more. His emotions were a jumbled up mess that needed sorting, and kisses were just complicating things.

The message wasn't getting through. Henry kissed Victor's unresponsive lips like there wasn't anything different than normal. Victor wasn't sure if he was being irrational or not, but that made him even angrier. So he pretended to be listening to something behind them. Henry looked around when he noticed. Victor waited a few moments, and then started walking away, pulling himself free from Henry's grip easily. He heard Henry start to follow after a brief pause. They shared no more words, and when they caught up with everyone else, Vic's anger turned into sadness, and then, fatigue.

Vic went to Belch's side, and stayed there the remainder of the night. He was not giving Henry a chance to influence his thoughts before he had a chance to know what they were himself.

The adults called off the search. Officer Nell took Victor to his house, surprising both Belch and Henry, who watched him climb into the police cruiser without saying as much as a goodbye. The minute he got home, he knew he was alone. Mama wasn't there. Papa wasn't there. Hell, even Victor wasn't 100% certain he was all there. Feeling that anger resurface, Victor grabbed the Louisville slugger by the back door, and the Precious Moments figurines from the hall cabinet. With only moonlight to help him see, Vic tossed the figurines in the air, and, one by one, either sent them flying across the yard to shatter on the fence, or pulverized them into dust on the concrete porch when he missed.

When he was out of figurines, he took the bat to the clay planters. His Mama hadn't planted flowers in forever, so they were empty, and easy to break.

Finally, Vic took out the family photos. He sent the little frame his his fourth grade school picture across the fence and into the neighbor's yard. He broke the glass across his parents wedding photo, and then set it on fire with some matches. He put a crack in every frame still hanging on the wall, especially those of his dad.

Tired, he passed up leftover meatloaf for two spoons of peanut butter, and then collapsed, fully dressed, onto his bed. The phone rang on two separate occasions, but Vic didn't move. He laid there, staring up at the ceiling, hoping that some kind of epiphany would hit him.

It didn't.

#stephen king #it #it 2017 #the bowers gang #henry bowers #victor criss #patrick hockstetter #belch huggins #fanfic #writing #it prompts #henvic #henry x victor #victor x henry #henry/victor #victor/henry

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hillbillyhippiemusicreview · 5 years

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POST #7 - Tumbleweed: The Good, The Bad, & The Ugly

Y’all, this is my last post reviewing Tumbleweed and this post is a little different. I promised y’all from the beginning that I would be honest in all of my reviews. This post will point out the good, the bad, and the ugly, of the festival as a whole. I won’t be reviewing artists, but I’ll be pointing out things that Borda Productions and the Tumbleweed team did better than last year and things they could still improve on. This is by no means a bashing article, it is just constructive criticism and is not meant to be viewed as a negative review. So I will list all of the good, the bad, and the ugly until I can’t list anymore. Again, this is based solely on my personal experiences of attending Tumbleweed as a fan and from other attendees gathered through social media. So, here we go:

The GOOD:

1. Tumbleweed has one of the best lineups of southern rock, real, alt, and outlaw country of any festival in the nation. While some people argue that it didn’t compare to the lineups in 2017 or 2018, it was still a killer lineup for the price of the festival. Some say it was a little more rock than country, but honestly you have zero complaints or criticism from me.

2. There were quite a few more people present on staff this year. Last year’s staff seemed tired and scarce. This year, the staff rotated in and out and were always helpful. I actually heard several people comment on the hospitality of the staff.

3. The new “VIP Area” on the festival side of the lake. This year they had some benches and a small area gated off with garbage cans for all of us campers to sit and finish our drinks before going into the festival grounds. This is awesome considering I had 2 coolers full of booze and really didn’t wanna pay $7 for a Coors Light.

4. The selection and amount of Vendors and Food Trucks this year was much improved from last year. As far as food, there was everything from Fried Ravioli and New York Style Pizza to Gyros and Burnt End Sandwiches. The vendors ranged from cowboy hats, cattle feeders and jewelry to CBD oil and Hemp infused coffee. Throw in the festival and artist merch and there was a little something for everyone.

5. The libation selection this year (in my opinion) was better. Instead of only having Bud Light and Bud Diesel, there was a plethora of alcohol options. Beer was limited to Coors Light and Miller Lite unless you were a VIP. VIPs, if I was told correctly, were able to get some Anheuser-Busch products. There were also certain times where you get get “tastings” of Twisted Tea. You add those in with the mixed drinks and Jell-O shots available and you’re in for a good time.

6. They took advice from last year and moved the “general store” closer to the camping area. Last year we had to walk up and down “buzzkill hill” to the festival grounds in order to get ice. By the time you got back to camp, 3/4s of the bag was already melted. This year the “general store” was by the camping area and was much more convenient. From what I saw, they seemed to have a pretty good selection of everything.

7. Trash pickup (at least in our part of the forest camping) seemed pretty regular and nothing piled up too high.

8. The artists not taking part in the festival were amazing. You could just walk up and down the forest and RV camping and hear people pickin’ and singing. Apparently, there were several great song swaps that we missed out on. Y’all this festival brings out a ton of talent that isn’t listed on the poster and website. It’s where some people get “noticed” or get there start. In all honesty, you could never go to the main stage and still get the chance to see a plethora of talent.

9. And last but definitely not least, the artists were so personable and cool. I personally was able to meet Bryan James, Ritch Henderson, Laid Back Country Picker (along with Honey) and Senora May. While regrettably I didn’t get to talk to the Comancheros I saw them talking with a ton of people and they seemed like they were awesome guys. I also got the chance to meet a couple of artists not playing the festival, but there as fans. Cody Tyler and Jon Green are 2 great and talented dudes! Seriously, every artist that I just mentioned will sit there and have a conversation with you like you’re friends; and after you’re finished talking, you are friends!

The BAD:

1. I’ll start with this, because it is no ones fault and can’t be improved, but EVERY SINGLE CAMPER complained about it...”Buzzkill Hill” sucks. That is all.

2. This year there were significantly less artists than last year although there seemed to be more people there. This could be based on the price paid for the quality of artistry. I’m going to assume that BlackBerry Smoke, Whiskey Myers, and Alabama are not cheap, but that’s just my speculation.

3. Last year, I really liked the 2nd stage that was covered. I know there were complaints about not being able to see 2 artists at once, but hey, part of the fun of a festival is running back and forth. Plus the covered stage allowed for some relief from the sun. I would suggest the team bring it back for next year.

4. There was some miscommunication between staff and attendees that needed to be improved upon. For example, the shower houses and bathrooms had a large sign outside that said they were open from 9am to 9pm. When you actually got up to the door of the shower houses, there was a sign that said 9am to 12am. No one really seemed to know what the actual time was.

5. The distance between the forest camping and parking this year seemed to be an issue for a lot of people. While it was a trek and was a pain for carrying supplies, I’m not sure of a way to fix it. The good thing is that’s not my job. Yeah, the Tumbleweed team had people with carts, tractors and trailers, horses and trailers, etc. that could help for a fee, but I would still recommend them taking another look at the situation. I would also like to be transparent here and say I haven’t been to a lot of music festivals, so I’m not sure how it compares to others. It could be better, it could be worse, it could be the same.

6. The last criticism that I heard from other people was the height of the underbrush in the forest camping. If they could have brought a bush hog, weedeater or something through closer to camping time, the weeds and in turn the ticks MAY not have been as bad. Not a huge deal, but hey it was mentioned so I tossed it in here.

The UGLY:

1. Since the original fan vote winner could not make the trip out, they just removed the fan vote artist from the line up. I genuinely believe that they should have gone down the list until an artist was able to make the festival. Whether that be the #2, #3, or #4 fan vote, I think someone should have taken the stage as the fan vote winner.

2. The showers (men’s alteast) frequently ran out of supplies and weren’t always the cleanest. While I don’t blame this staff at all, this is just something that was in fact “ugly” about the festival. I don’t know why us men always have dirty bathrooms. Y’all- if you drop paper pick it up. If you’re too lazy to lift up the seat or you can’t aim, well I don’t know what to tell ya. Either don’t be lazy or sit down I guess. Good lord, no wonder women get mad at us and say that we are heathens... Anyways, there were 6 or 8 showers (I can’t remember how many exactly), 2 toilets and 2 urinals. That doesn’t quite seem like enough, but at least it’s something. $30+ worth? Honestly, no but I’ll still pay that to not use a portapotty and to have some running water.

3. FREAKING TICKS! Those things were everywhere. We used 2 cans of bug spray and still found a few of them little b@stards crawling on us.

The UNFORTUNATE:

1. While writing, there was one criticism that I heard from many people and even spewed out myself. Whiskey Myers only had a 45 minute set! That sucks. But you know, there was nothing to be done about it. There was a thunderstorm and heavy rain that passed through causing an evacuation of the festival and camping grounds. The Tumbleweed team also noted that Whiskey Myers had to leave at a certain time to make their next show. I’m not sure if 30 minutes would have made a difference or not, nor am I here to complain about. It sucked yes, but it was bad or ugly? No, because hey sh!t happens. No one could have stopped that weather. So instead of calling it bad or ugly, I label it as unfortunate, because it is. It just sucked and everyone, including the Tumbleweed team, was bummed about it.

Anyways, that concludes my series of write-ups on Tumbleweed. This post was not meant to bash or be negative in anyway. It was simply to cover all of the great things and the things that could be improved on as the festival goes on. Overall it was a great festival that I plan on attending again. This year was my 2nd year, but it won’t be my last.

Also a special thanks to Lauren, Lori, Matt, Jennifer, Angie, Tommy, Stacey, Jason, Bruce, Laura, Amy, and Becca for your contributions and thoughts.

Y’all give us a like of Facebook, follow us on Instagram and feel free to suggest any album reviews that you would like to see!

This post and all of the great things about Tumbleweed 2019 is dedicated to Nick LaDelfa. I didn’t know Nick, but from what I understand he loved Tumbleweed this year and served our country in the US Army. Unfortunately, Nick left this world shortly after he attended Tumbleweed this year. Rest In Peace sir and thank you for your service.

-Cheers, N.

*This is an independent review. The Hillbilly Hippie Music Review was not compensated in any way for posting this review.

*The Tumbleweed logo and imagery with the raven are not ours, nor do we claim it in any way. We simply added the words “The Good, The Bad, & The Ugly.”

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tchellig · 7 years

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So I was rummaging through the source code of my favorite videogame, and I found this list of constants, and honestly? They make a great wlw tag-yourself kinda deal (“tag yourself I’m GF_THUNDER”), but also maybe an ask list, where you give someone a number and they say what the corresponding item means to them (“number 20” “when you make brittle with your gf and she gets really excited when it’s time for the bit where you take a hammer and shatter the sheet”).

Or you could do your own answers to all of them like I did (did I mention there are way more under the cut? If you ask me, they just keep getting better). Basically, just have fun with them.

1 (GF_ELEC): when the feeling of being in love with your gf is downright electric

2 (GF_POIS): when your gf gets food poisoning and she’s stuck in bed during your whole vacation together, but later she mentions she really enjoyed the trip. when you ask why, she claims it was because she was with you

3 (GF_ACID): when your girlfriend keeps saying “Mina Ashido is my wife”

4 (GF_COLD): when your gf is a little mad at you and doesn’t wanna talk at the moment, and you don’t pressure her. alternately, warm her up!!

5 (GF_FIRE): when you love your gf’s taste in music

10 (GF_MISSILE): when your gf is playing a wizard and keeps casting magic missile

11 (GF_ARROW): the only Olympic event your gf watches is archery, because she used to do competitive archery in high school. what she didn’t count on is you getting really into it and getting even more excited about it than she does.

12 (GF_PLASMA): your girlfriend is a materials scientist and routinely works with plasma, but still loves your plasma globe and you love to watch her play with it

13 (GF_HOLY_ORB): Smash Bros is your gf’s religion and she keeps referring to the Smash Ball as the “holy orb.” alternately, your gf’s pretty eyes.

14 (GF_WATER): when you steal your gf’s water bottle

15 (GF_LITE): your gf really likes pastel

16 (GF_DARK): your gf likes wearing black

17 (GF_LITE_WEAK): your gf doesn’t go outside much and is always squinting outdoors

18 (GF_DARK_WEAK): your gf wants to wear dark clothes, but it’s the middle of summer

20 (GF_SHARDS): your clumsy gf broke her favorite mug D:

21 (GF_SOUND): you perk up as you hear your girlfriend pulling into the driveway

22 (GF_CONFUSION): you make a reference your girlfriend doesn’t get

23 (GF_FORCE): you make your girlfriend watch a thing with you so she can get the reference

24: when your gf doesn’t want to get off the couch

26: when your gf is pure magic to you

27: when your love for your gf is like a rock hurtling through space at over 100,000 miles an hour

28: when your gf’s feet are really cold but you warm them up on your tum anyway / when your gf’s hands are cold but you hold them anyway

30: when your gf’s life is a little bit of a mess but you’re still so proud of them

31: [redacted, nsfw]

32: when your gf finds out a piece of media she likes is too problematic to still enjoy

33: when your gf is at the center of all your thoughts

34: when you get to hang out with your lovely gf and not worry about anything else for a bit

35: when you gotta have a serious talk with your gf but it’s okay ‘cause you’re both great at carefully communicating your feelings to each other.

61: when your girlfriend is your gal-paladin

62: when your girlfriend blocks gross anons

63: when your girlfriend wants to be alone and you give her space

64: when you’re a vampire and you and your gf make the informed decision to make her one, too

65: when your gf reveals her plans for world domination and you still love and support her

66: your gf is a shapeshifter and can turn into absolutely anything

70: your gf’s a support main

71: when your gf has a surprise for you and she’s not giving you any hints

72: the very earth trembles at the radiance of your gf

73: your gf’s a Reaper main

74: your gf’s a Tracer main and loves to quote her lines at you in her best silly English accent

75: your gf’s a Zarya main and talks about getting crushed between her thighs or getting broken in half

76: when your gf is trying to remember who she mains

77: when your gf is stunning, as always

78: when you find your gf in a crowd of people

79: when your girlfriend is psychic but she doesn’t need to read your mind to know what you’re thinking

80: when someone messes with your gf and they suffer the wrath of God

81: when someone messes with your gf and they get fucking vaporized holy shit

82: when someone messes with your gf and they suffer the wrath of Satan

83: when your gf meant to banish someone to the nether realm, but her magic wasn’t strong enough and they just got sent to the shadow planes instead

84: your gf’s car’s stereo is broken and will only play REM’s “It’s The End of The World” on repeat

85: your gf is really into Berserk. alternately, your gf is a witch but keeps screwing up her sigils

86: you go stargazing with your gf

87: when your gf wants to go see a scary movie but then it’s scarier than she thought it would be but you hold her hand and it’s okay

88: your gf is a fullmetal alchemist fan and has a poster of jean havoc. alternately, your gf is a kaiju and destroys half of tokyo but you still love and support her.

89: your love for your gf is ablaze. alternately, your gf is venting to you about how Dan Brown’s Inferno is trash and a waste of her time

90: your gf takes you to see fireworks

91: your gf’s shipment of pokemon merch came in and she’s been wearing that Team Rocket hat for weeks and holy shit it’s still really cute on her

104: your gf has cochlear implants and two robotic prosthetic limbs and you’re really proud of her for adapting to using them and you love her so much

105: your gf had a terrible day D: but you’re trying to make it a little better in whatever ways she’s up for and comfortable with, and it’s helping a bit. alternately, your gf sent some asshole’s racist tweets to their employer.

106: you’re enjoying The Girlfriend Experience™

110: your gf had to enter the launch codes today, ushering in total thermonuclear annihilation. alternately: your gf is playing as Gandhi in Civ, or is a big Duke Nukem fan.

111: your gf is vision-impaired, and also you love them a lot! alternately, your gf is so radiant it could blind someone.

112: you get to hold your gf!!

113: oh my

134: your gf takes your breath away

135: you see your gf somewhere and you wave to her -- and she waves back

136: your gf’s a Symmetra main

137: your gf restores antique player pianos, either professionally or as a hobby

138: your gf doesn’t vape, but she loves memes about vaping

139: whenever you hand your gf the aux cord, she plays The Cure

140: your gf’s a Mercy main

149: you see your gf and you feel you are cured of all ails.

150: when you rush to your gf’s arms so fast you basically teleport to her

151: when you acknowledge that your gf had a hand in the doom that befell your house, but you still love and support her

152: when you’re watching a movie with your gf and you need to go get more snacks and she keeps the movie paused while you’re gone and waits until you’re fully settled back on the couch before unpausing it. alternately, when you and your gf go into cryogenic stasis together because you wanna see the future, and the technicians at the facility revive you first, then your girlfriend, so the first words you say to her when she wakes up are “just crackin’ open a cold one with the boys” (even though most of the technicians are women too)

153: your gf swears a lot

154: your gf’s presence is like a healing cloud

155: your gf supports the people of Flint, MI

156: your gf reads lots of murder mysteries and knows how to kill someone via poisoned ice cubes

159: your gf needs a bit of motivation, and you give it to her

160: your gf is a lil quiet but you know that just means she’s processing stuff and not that she’s ignoring you or mad at you. alternately, your gf finds it really hard to concentrate when there’s any sort of noise, and she needs to study, so you’re completely silent for a couple of hours ‘cause you want her to succeed

161: your gf is flirting with you but you refuse to be flustered!

162: you ask your gf to stop doing something and she does right away.

163: she asks why that particular thing was an issue, so she can know what kinds of behaviors to avoid in the future, but you find it difficult to articulate

189: “I love my girlfriend!” your partner thunders

192: when your gf wins an argument online

200: your gf loves looking closely at the snowflakes that stick to the window, and gets a little sad when they melt. alternately, your gf is a powerful winter goddess and you love to imagine her with a snowflake halo.

208: your gf always opens all the windows when it rains so she can listen to it “at full volume”

209: your gf gets really excited in the fall when the leaves start dropping and tries to catch them. when she does, she always gives them to you

210: you love it when your gf texts you to give you little updates on how her day is going

211: your gf is a nature photographer and loves to show you her shots of lightning

212: your gf draws thundercats fanart

250: your gf’s a Widowmaker main. alternately, you’re convinced your gf is a little magical; her hair seems to change with her mood. it’s really cute when she’s cross and you don’t know how to tell her without seeming like you might be trivializing her feelings.

#long post #wlw #ask meme #I feel like this might be my magnum opus #finally a medium for my MAGNUM OPUS #help-mywife #this seems like your kind of content #tag yourself #?#not quite the right format #I don't know really what format I'm mimicking here #it's close to a few different things #mary #TomeNET #that's the game #if anyone was wondering

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chilly-territory · 7 years

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Gangsta: Death of Anosmic Stray Dogs, chapter 3

We’re well over half the book now, with only 2 chapters and the epilogue remaining. The plot is clear now, too, with only some minor details to work out.

Chapter 4 is longer and wordier so will probably take more time to translate though. The original Japanese text is still provided by valgerdrgodiforseti.

Gangsta: Death of Anosmic Stray Dogs by Kawabata Junichi

Chapter 3 (pages 103-140)

After leaving the garage where the sneering dog rampaged to its heart's content, it took Worick about 2 hours to make it back to the Benriya office.

Johann was waiting in front of the garage, so Worick dumped Dario, who didn't even make an attempt to walk with his own two feet, on him. That said, since Worick had sustained some wounds himself, he needed to drop by Theo's clinic along with the two, as well.

He had Nina dress his wounds, and when he returned to the office, Nicolas turned to him, gracing him with an annoyed look. Lying on the couch, he pressed a glass bottle of carbonated water to his lips. Having taken 2 gulps, he put it on the table.

After that, Nicolas held his right fist in front of his face and, bending his wrist, banged it against the left side of his chest. Then he made a motion like he wanted to grab his head with the whole of his right hand.

'What are you fucking up for, idiot.'

Seemingly satisfied with just that, he took a shish-kebab out of the paper bag sitting on the floor and bit into it.

"Whatcha eating?" 'Salted grilled fish. Bought it from a street stall.'

Worick cracked a smile.

"Really. Yummy?" 'Passable.' "How carefree of you when I was being put through some really awful experience. What if I died?" 'You're still alive though.'

Nicolas got up from the couch and threw the skewer the kebab he had finished in a flash was on in the trash can. The long stick fell with a small clunk, joining 2 more like it already in the trash can.

'Speaking of, don't go wandering off alone if you know you're being targeted, moron.' "Don't look so cold, man. It's part of the job."

Worick plopped down on the other couch next to the one Nicolas was occupying. Nicolas gazed at him expressionless.

'Is he the mafia slayer?' "Who knows. I'm not sure yet." 'I thought you took a shine to him.' "Did it look that way? I'm just really good at getting close to strangers, is all."

Worick lit up a Pall Mall. Lifting a corner of his mouth, he flashed a nasty smirk.

"You suck at dealing with him, don't ya." 'I just don't like him, is all. For some reason.' "Haha, way to be blunt. Not that I don't get what you mean though."

Taciturn Nicolas and talkative Dario were the polar opposites. But at the same time, Worick had a feeling that their sets of values were surprisingly similar. If it looked like Worick was being friendly with Dario, that had to be the reason why.

Both of the short men didn't give a damn about the rules of society. They had their own internal set of iron-clad rules, which was linked with instincts rather than reason. Nicolas' rules originated in his having been born a Twilight and formed under the effects of his complicated upbringing. With Dario though, Worick couldn't tell for sure. But he could venture a guess that Dario, too, had a past of some controversial kind that cut into his neck like a chain. Because he was unhealthily obsessed with the past. In the form of 'forgetting', to be exact. It was the same as with a child's puppy love. Peering hard and avoiding to look at all costs bore the same meaning in that context, denoting the overwhelming obsession with the object.

Or, alternatively, perhaps Nicolas' disagreeable sentiment could be attributed to a natural dislike towards one of the same kind. ---Well, if we started talking unsightly past and criticizing people for it, I'd be on the list, too, Worick admitted to himself with a strained smile.

"But don't let it be said that I haven't learned my lesson. So now I want you to stick by me, Nic-chan. Protect me from the scary-scary people, partner." 'Hell if I care. Learn to protect yourself with your own power.' "Oh, don't sulk." 'I’m not.'

Worick blew out the cigarette smoke in Nicolas' direction, and the shorter man grimaced not unlike a dog.

Nicolas would protect Worick no matter what. Even if it meant putting his own life on the line. And there could hardly be any doubt that the feelings driving him to do so were neither those of friendship nor those of duty. It was more like something that was part of the instincts etched into his essence.

Evidently, Worick accumulated too much fatigue because the next day he slept in until noon. He felt he had dreamed of a woman but didn't really remember.

He woke up with a dull headache, maybe from the hangover, or from having been hit in the head. His shoulder, grazed by the bullet yesterday, stung when he was taking a shower. But since the wound could be written off as a mere scratch, he didn't feel much inconvenience even when washing his head.

Leaving the office together with Nicolas, Worick had a kebab sandwich bought from a street stall for lunch. Fashionably late by 10 minutes to the appointment with inspector Chad for that reason, he spent another 10 minutes trying to ignore the gratuitous lecturing the good inspector subjected him to.

20 minutes in total later than planned, they finally got to the main issue at hand.

"Geez. Making me waste my energy on garbage disposal day after day." Chad scowled while puffing on his Hope cigarette.

The meeting place was the interrogation room, found in a corner of the police station and plastered with wanted posters of all kinds of scoundrels.

Worick, cheek resting on his hand, managed to shrug his shoulders without changing his pose.

"We're fans of tidiness ourselves. Right, partner?" 'I've nothing to do with it,' Nicolas' hands signed. "The 5 guys yesterday, what family did they belong to?" Worick asked Chad. "The Bandera family." "Oh. A place pretty high up on the totem poll." "They're street-level. Then again, they were just lapdogs of their heavy-hitting Capo Regime." "And that Capo Regime got offed by the mafia slayers."

That's how the story had to go, evidently, given the hysterical woman's words.

Chad nodded.

"His corpse was found the day before yesterday. Shot through the head at home in his own bed. Along with the women serving as his body pillows. There were 7 people and 1 dog in that house. Only the dog survived." "So they weren't slain with a bladed weapon?"

One of the big reasons why Worick and Nicolas were set up as the fall guys for the mafia killings was because the murder weapon was a blade.

"You're not off the hook though, your weapon of choice is Colt Government, forgot?"

Chad ground out his Hope cigarette, smoked up to the filter, on the cheap ashtray of stainless steel and stuck a new one in his mouth.

"Chad-san, ain't you smoking a bit too much?" "Shuddup. There's a talk going round that soon smoking at the station will be banned. So I smoke while I can." 'Ain't it high time you retired though?' Nicolas' hands moved, a wicked smirk taking over his face.

Chad smacked him on the head.

"Like I can with the shitty brats severely lacking discipline around!" 'Why are you always taking it out only on me?'

"So?" Worick, following suit, lit up a Pall Mall. "How hairy the situation is right now, exactly? For how long will the Bandera family be after my head, in your opinion?" "The Monroe family is indirectly holding them down for now. But only indirectly." "Yeah, figures."

Daniel Monroe was this city's mighty power balancer. It figured that he couldn't possibly play favorites and openly back up the Benriya who were but two puny individuals. The request he had placed with them was in part purely meant to protect them - at least that's what Worick thought.

Chad took a deep drag out of his cigarette through the filter, breathed out a cloud of white smoke, then spoke.

"Every time new blood gets spilled, you two gain more hatred and grudges against you. And those grudges are quite tangible. You get what I mean, right?" "Mn. I get that you're worried about us, Chad-san." "Shuddup. I just don't wanna see this fucked up city get fucked up more than it already is."

Worick let out a puff of smoke too, and flicked the ashes off his cigarette over the ashtray.

"Yesterday's evening, did the mafia slayers hit again?" "Got no such reports for the time being. Excluding the five you've wasted, that is." "Five?"

Worick only shot two. And only one of those was dead beyond any doubt. He didn't know the fate of the other one. Additionally, Dario ran over 2 more. Even if all of them bit the dust, it totaled to 4 bodies. The numbers didn't add up.

"All 5 are confirmed dead?" "Yeah. 2 on the street, 3 in the garage. What, did you want a confirmation of your feats?" "Well, I was really drunk yesterday, so."

Did it mean that Dario killed at least one, possibly two while Worick was unconscious? If so, the numbers would add up. Except how could he do it, with his gun out of reach and his leg hit by a bullet?

At the guess that popped up in his head as he tried to solve that puzzle, Worick couldn't help but laugh.

---Was Dario putting on an act?

Really, now? Where did the acting end, then?

Stubbing out the Pall Mall on the ashtray, Worick scratched his head.

In any case, the situation was still deteriorating. Slowly but surely, like a swamp you kept sinking into.

"I want the list of the clients the Lombardi family pushed their 'dynamite' to. You've investigated them, like you were supposed to, right?"

That was the start of the mafia killings. The only clue they had that could be called more or less solid was that 'dynamite'.

Chad, however, shook his head.

"We're still investigating." "How sloppy. Didn't those guys keep records?" "That's not it. There's no doubt they were a family particular to death about every penny. It's just that someone apparently made off with all of the records on their 'dynamite' deals." "Oh. Makes you wonder just who it could be."

The answer to that was obvious as obvious got - the mafia slayers. And with that, it only stood to reason to suspect that they acted on a personal grudge. A grudge having to do with the 'dynamite' - if the perp was a Twilight, a myriad of valid reasons why came to mind.

"What about other documents?" "We've rounded up all the paper scraps we could find at the Lombardi family's place, from threatening letters that sounded like a kid's scribbles to pinups from the walls. Wanna take a gander?" "Yeah," Worick nodded and glanced at Nicolas.

Probably bored of the long talk, the dark-haired man was entertaining himself with reshuffling the wanted posters on the walls. It looked like he was lining them up in order of the amount of hair, so now one corner sported a herd of shaved headed thugs.

"Nic-chan. Sorry, but could you play by yourself for a little longer?" 'I'm already bored of it.' "Next try lining them up in order of their nose size then." 'What fun is that?'

At this rate, it wouldn't be too odd if he went off somewhere on his own. Only, right now, Worick didn't want them to go anywhere separately.

"Gimme just 5 more minutes. I'll be done right away."

He had no idea how much was there to go through, but just flipping through all the papers shouldn't take much time in any case. And Worick didn't forget anything he had laid his eyes upon just once. He could recall it perfectly at any time he wanted. He would ponder on the content of those documents later.

"This way," Chad rose up from his chair.

Approximately 10 minutes later, the two Benriya exited the police station.

Having found a florist's that carried violets, Worick bought a bundle of them, planning to drop by Dario's hospital room. An armful of flowers for a get-well visit paid to someone like Dario felt jarringly out of place, but popping up there empty-handed was even worse.

Dario, lying on a bed on the second floor of Theo's clinic, was reading a book out of having nothing better to do, but lifted his head when he caught sight of the two handymen.

"Yo, my friends. Came to invite me for a drink again?" "This is a get-well visit. Since you got worked over pretty good." "Ooh, thanks for the trouble."

Dario put the wrapping of a used up book match in place of a bookmark and shut the book.

"Whatcha reading?" "Ah, this. A fairy-tale that girl - Nina-chan, was it - brought me trying to be thoughtful." "Oh yes, Nina-chan." "Yeah, she's such a good girl. And she’s got ‘em skills. She'll turn into one fine woman one day, I'm telling ya." "Agreed wholeheartedly," Worick said, then raised his brows. "Wait, what, were you crying?"

There were traces of tears in the outer corners of Dario's eyes.

"Hm? Well, yeah." Not embarrassed in the slightest, Dario help up the book. "It's an eastern book. I looked down on it at first 'cause it's for kids, but it's awesome."

Worick laughed.

A guy who failed to give a damn about guns pointed at him and ran over 2 people with his beloved car even after having been shot in the leg, cried over a kiddy fairy-tale.

It was clearly weird, but when you saw this guy, somehow it all made sense and seemed only natural.

Worick felt Nicolas clap him on the shoulder.

'I'll be outside,' the deaf man signed disinterestedly. 'If something happens, gimme some signal.'

Nicolas sniffed, nose twitching. The smell of rubbing alcohol must have been getting to him. The second floor had 4 beds and looked a lot more like a hospital than the floor below. Worick nodded his okay.

"Give these to Nina-chan as a present then."

Nicolas spared a look at the bouquet Worick held out, and took it with a sigh. Throwing the flowers over his shoulder, he walked away.

Dario gave Worick a coarse sneer from his bed.

"I did praise that girlie, but trying to seduce a girl that little?" "If I wanted to seduce her, I'd give her those flowers myself. She's Nic-chan's pair. And the flowers are for your Fiat. They're of the matching color." "You're giving flowers to a car? That's weird." "That car's my lifesaver. It put its body on the line to save me." "A car is a car. It's useful, sure, but it's only a tool. It got nothing on your own two legs."

It seemed like Dario really did forget all about the Fiat. Or, at the very least, he revealed no sign of being sad about losing it.

"How do you like this hospital?" Worick asked.

Dario shrugged. His features twisted - did his wound hurt, perhaps?

"I like it good enough. Johann does, too. The doc here don't talk much, thankfully." "Aren't you bored without someone to talk to?" "Guess so. Than again, it's much better than doctors doing nothing but throwing questions at you." "Oh. That's a surprise." "What is?" "I thought you loved talking." "A talk with doctors is never any good." "Really? Doctors talk so they could heal you. It's their job and their duty." "And I don't like that. They come asking you questions about your health for the record. 'How are feeling, Dario-san?' I don't fuckin’ know how I'm feeling, that's why I'm paying you big money to examine me and find out! What the hell’s with dumping everything on the patient, what are you, a quack or something?"

The corners of Worick's mouth lifted up. True, Theo was a man of few words as well as skilled. Although he was also a corrupt doctor, for a portion of his patients he was probably close to the ideal.

For about 5 minutes after that, Dario continued to vocally complain about hospitals, only pausing for breathing. That for some reason the smell of cresol used for disinfection was similar to Bowmore he had had in the Spanish bar, that the flavor of the food served to him was flat and it was more like fishfood than something meant for humans, and so on and so forth, but on the other hand, it seemed like he had no dissatisfaction with this clinic and even expressed roundabout gratitude to it, going by his comparison with other hospitals.

When the short man's tongue took a short break at last, Worick spoke up, "There's something I wanted to ask." "Yeah, what is it?" "About yesterday. What happened?" "What d'you mean 'what happened'?" "To be honest, when I came to in that garage, I was 80-90% sure that you'd departed from this world for good. If they hadn’t captured you, then you had to be dead. Yet, you turned up alive. It's also a mystery to me how you even found where they took me."

When Dario swooped in to save him yesterday, Worick's suspicions about his being the mafia slayer got somewhat stronger.

The man himself was probably not strong, or skilled by any stretch of imagination. He was lucky, sure, but that was all he had going for him. And yet, he had somehow pulled through a really sticky spot and even saved Worick. So Worick naturally found himself suspecting that the man had some special ability or something of the sort that wasn't immediately visible to the observer.

"You wanted to ask about something that trivial?" Dario laughed. "I'm a lucky man." "So your luck is to thank for absolutely e~verything, you say?" "Everything's up to luck. Stumbling upon an apple tree when you're hungry and have no money is luck, finding a wallet on the road is luck, meeting a friend that treats you to a meal is luck. See? Yesterday, as luck had had it, Johann turned up to help."

Worick had guessed that much. After all, Johann was outside the garage, waiting for Dario to come out.

"That pampered kid? Why though?" "Dunno. I was out cold for a while. Ask Johann."

This man said absolutely lame things with impossible grandeur.

"Even if so, it doesn't explain how you had located that garage." "That'd be 'cause nose knows." "Nose?" "Yup, nose. I can tell the smell of good luck and of bad luck. And Johann--"

But there, he was interrupted with a knock on the door.

It was Nina. On her tray, there were two bottles of orange juice and a vase with the violets arranged in it.

"D-Did I interrupt you?"

Worick sighed and shook his head.

"Not really, we were just chatting about silly things."

Nina smiled and put the vase by the window. Then she deposited one bottle of juice on the side table by the bed. Worick took the other.

"Thanks. You're so considerate." "No, it's not me. These are from Johann-san."

Worick looked at Dario.

"I asked him. Y'know, to go shopping for me and stuff. What's he doing?" "He's downstairs, talking with Nico." "Ooh," Dario smiled in surprise. "I can't imagine what kind of conversation they could be having."

Worick had to agree. In contrast to Nicolas and his mad dog tendencies, Johann was like a chihuahua kept by a refined Madame. But for what it was worth, they were the savior and the saved, so holding a formal conversation on that account out of common courtesy was probably not impossible.

After Nina bowed and left the room, Dario changed the subject.

"You see, Johann came to this town to find his l'il sister. His sis is like the reason for living to him." "That girl in the photo you keep?" "Yeah, that's her. They got separated some time ago due to some rotten circumstances. And recently, we finally found out that she's somewhere in this city."

From how Dario worded it and from the real reason why they had to come to this city, Worick incurred that the girl in the photo was not in a position that set the mind at ease about her well-being.

"Didn't Johann-chan come to this city because he was free though?" "Him? Did he tell you that himself?" "No, you told me that. You really forget everything, huh." "Oh, I see. Oh well, it does sound like something I'd say." "What does it mean though?" "Just what it sounds like."

Dario yawned sleepily, apparently not immune to losing strength due to an injury. Then he added in a voice that somehow sounded a little vacant, "Being free is nice and stuff, but there are all kinds of limitations. You keep getting hungry for as long as you live, and require sleep, too. And if you get pumped full of lead, sometimes you end up dying." "That's right. Although I was under the impression that you didn't know that." "Everyone has a chain hanging around their neck. But if you got to chose where the limitations trap you, that's freedom. He pinned it on his sister. Catch my drift?" "Yeah, loud and clear at that." "In that case, there you have it."

Dario closed his eyes.

"Think you can find that girl?" Worick inquired.

He didn't hope to get an answer, but Dario did reply, if mumblingly, "Yeah, without fail. I'm a lucky man, after all." "How?" "Dunno. Ask Johann."

He was sound asleep the second the words left his mouth, breathing peacefully. Having gotten off his chest all he had to say, he went and fell asleep just like that. Like a child.

Worick moved the side table with the bottle of orange juice on it out of the way so that even if Dario tossed and turned in his sleep, his hand wouldn't bump into it. Then, after putting a bedsheet round Dario, he left the sickroom.

When Worick came down to the first floor, he didn't find Nicolas or Johann there. Instead, there stood Theo, leaning against the wall and blowing out cigarette smoke.

"Where's Nic-chan?" "No idea." "And where's Johann-chan?" "No idea either. I'm not their babysitter."

Worick came closer and leaned against the wall next to the doctor as well, taking out a Pall Mall.

"Lately, we've been imposing on you a lot. You have my gratitude." "Have no use for it. I'll take money over gratitude any day. Besides, it didn't eat up much of my time, so it's fine. His wounds aren't serious." "He got shot in the leg and then charged into a garage head-first. You can't tell me that his wounds aren't serious." "Even so, none of his wounds would have any lasting effect." "You can tell just by looking that the guy is tenacious. I'm glad that luck is on his side." "In that case, his companion is luckier." "Johann-chan?"

Theo nodded.

"When he stayed overnight for examination, he was up all night enduring." "Was it that bad?" "It's still bad. And won't heal. For now, he's just lucky to be able to move at all. Like with that partner of yours, those are some high-maintenance mess of bodies they have."

Worick raised his brow, dubious. "A Tag?"

Face wiped off all expression, Theo blew out the smoke. "Did you bring him here without knowing? I can't believe you."

Worick scratched his cheek.

---Nose knows, Dario said. Per his admission, he could tell the smell of good luck and of bad luck, and Johann...

Just what smell could Johann tell?

"How bad is it looking for that baby-faced boy?" "If he's alive 2 years from now, it'll be some really potent good luck, amazing enough to call it a miracle." "Why though? It's not because of the wound he sustained the other day, is it?" "Partly because of his odd compensation. But mainly due to the reckless use of Celebrer."

There was no lack in Tags weakened by Celebrer.

"I see," Worick returned curtly. "And that compensation, what is it?"

Theo indicated the area around his bangs with the hand holding the cigarette.

"He has a tuft of hair, here, that's white, remember?" "Isn't that just a pubescent teen thing? Like, because he thinks it's cool." "Different parts of his body age differently."

That was hard to grasp.

After letting it sink, Worick confirmed his understanding, "So you’re saying only part of his hair became that of an old man?" "If it was only his hair, it wouldn't matter any. The manner he ages in is first only his right arm gets old, then only his left leg, and so on. If his heart'll age suddenly, his life span will greatly shorten. And if he repeatedly ODs with a body that irregular from the get-go... you follow what I'm getting at?"

Worick puffed out a cloud of smoke and watched it dissipate away.

"Sorry for bringing you another patient that can't get better." "Damn straight."

Theo ground out his cigarette that still had about half of its length intact, on the ashtray he held in hand and turned his back to Worick.

"Hey. It's a problem for me if you take away the ashtray, y'know?" "Like I care. Don't get my floor dirty."

Theo proceeded to the back room without looking back.

Worick thought of Nicolas as he gazed at his Pall Mall that had nowhere to go now. Nicolas had run into Johann, there was no doubt about it.

About 15 minutes prior, when Nicolas came downstairs, Nina came out of the examination room found in the back of the first floor at the same time. Seeing Nicolas, the girl smiled.

"Ah. You're just in time. The doctor said to give these to you."

She held out two plastic cases she previously cradled to her chest.

Celebrer. Uppers and downers. Twilights' lifeline and the main cause of their death.

Celebrer cost a lot. It was made expensive for a reason different than it being a high-costing drug to produce. Celebrer was the most direct means of making Twilights obey the rules set by Normals. There was an absolute need to make Twilights view Celebrer as "the life credit bestowed upon them by Normals out of goodness of their hearts", so if Celebrer was easy to obtain, that equilibrium would crumble.

For that reason, generally, only rich people or prominent mafia families involved in managing and controlling said Celelbrer as their bread and butter could afford to keep Twilights. Worick was neither that rich nor that powerful, so he had to rely on Theo selling him the stuff the doctor got through his own routes illegally .

'Are you done helping the doc?'

Nina understood perfectly what Nicolas' hands signed.

"Yes. At the moment, Dario-san is the only hospitalized patient, and his condition is stable. And the doctor is in the back, trying to outstare some other patients' charts."

Nicolas nodded his acknowledgement. Then, noticing the girl's gaze shift from his face to somewhere a little to the side, he remembered about the violets.

'From Worick.' With that, Nicolas presented the girl the flowers. "Eh? For me?" 'Supposed to be a get-well gift to the mofo sleeping upstairs. But flowers for a dude is even more pointless than pearls before swine, so take them.' "No, I could not possibly. But the sickroom decorated with flowers will make me happy, too. So thank you."

Nina reached out with both hands, and Nicolas lifted the flowers higher in the air. By reflex, Nina jumped for them, but the flowers were held just out of her reach. When she landed, Nicolas lowered them, and when she jumped, he held them up again, rinsing and repeating a few times until Nina groaned in frustration.

It wasn't like Nicolas had a dislike for Nina or particularly wanted to harass her. It was just that her troubled expression was fun to watch for some reason, so he teased like that for a bit. Before she had the chance to get peevish for real, he mouthed, 'I'm bored', voicelessly with only his lips, and thrust the violets into her chest.

Nina smiled happily, cradling the flowers gently.

"Thank you," she said.

Nicolas wasn't one to pay much mind to the subtle workings of others' hearts, but he had grasped the real meaning of Nina's words, as well as the reason why she lowered her head immediately after, as if realizing her verbal slip.

If she wanted to give thanks for the flowers, she would have thanked Worick. But her thanks wasn't about that, what she was grateful for was her relationship with Nicolas, probably. To Nicolas, the time spent with her was not unpleasant or anything, but calling it a kind of a compulsory job would not be too off the mark.

Pretending he hadn't realized anything about her true feelings, Nicolas lightly flicked her forehead with his middle finger.

'If you wanna thank someone, thank Worick.' "Okay. Ah, but it would probably be weird for me to thank him for the flowers meant for Dario-san."

She giggled.

It was like he was playing make believe human. Him, a Twilight - him, who carried another set of tags deep inside him on instinct. That said, the fact made him feel neither good nor bad or sad. Neither did he ever wish to be a Normal, for that matter. It was probably the same as a child's play of imitating how a dog barked or a cat meowed. A mere game that had no meaning beyond killing time.

"Nice smell. I'll go fetch a vase for them," Nina smiled, and the same instance the front door opened. Nicolas glared in that direction.

"Nicolas-san."

On the doorstep stood someone familiar. The young man wearing a quilted down coat clearly too big for his lanky form.

"Thank you for saving me the other night."

Johann bowed nervously. His straight bangs with a white lock rocked with the motion.

'I wasn't the one to save you.'

Johann knitted his brows and scratched his cheek sheepishly.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand sign language." "Hmph," Nicolas snorted. It wasn't like he had any desire to talk with this young man anyway. The youth held a paper bag in his right hand - probably bought something for Dario. Nicolas pointed to the ceiling, imbuing the gesture with the "get going already" meaning.

"Ah, right, thank you."

Johann bowed again and was about to pass Nicolas by... but suddenly stopped in his tracks.

Nicolas tensed slightly, one eye narrowing. Johann, too, turned his head to him, narrowing his eyes to slits and staring at Nicolas.

"Nina-san, I am sorry to trouble you, but could you please take this to Dario for me? There are 2 bottles of orange juice in here, so please give one to Worick-san."

Nicolas could tell something was off - it was not a conclusion of the mind, rather, he felt it with his skin.

There was the abnormal politeness with which Johann spoke to Nina even though she was just a child and it wasn't necessary. How familiarly he referred to Dario in contrast. And how he didn't doubt that Worick was upstairs even though he seemingly had no means of knowing that for sure. Probably all of that combined.

Notwithstanding, Nicolas still didn't find himself particularly interested in the young man. Whereas he could tell that Johann was very interested in him for some reason.

"Eh? Ah, alright."

Nina accepted the bag, balancing it with the vase in her hands with some difficulty. Nicolas was about to help her carry the burden, but before he could make a move, Johann said, "Excuse me, Nicolas-san, would you mind sparing me a little of your time?"

Nicolas cocked his head to the side in puzzlement. Asking why with voiced words was bothersome.

"Please. There is something I would like to ask you. So let us step outside for a bit."

In the sharp gaze of Johann's eyes visible from beneath his long bangs, there was something akin to a killing intent. Except it wasn't really that. If it was a real killing intent, Nicolas would know the same instance.

For a very short while, Nicolas considered the issue of Worick's safety. Technically, he was told to protect him, supposedly. In which case, leaving wasn't advisable.

"I will make it quick. Please, to the street in front of the clinic."

Johann turned and started walking.

Nicolas sighed. And then followed Johann.

As long as he didn't get too far away from the clinic, he wouldn't miss any changes that might occur inside, he judged. After all, Nicolas had extremely good eyes. He would notice it if a window got cracked by a bullet.

Out of curiosity that rared its head, Nicolas wondered what would happen if he just ignored Johann who was advancing with steps grand and confident like never before, but what intrigued him the most was the meaning behind the young man's strange look.

Johann came to a halt once they exited Theo's clinic, but Nicolas didn't. The reason was he remembered that there was a chicken street stall about 20 yards away from the clinic. One kebab sandwich for lunch was not enough.

So now it was Nicolas leading the way with Johann in tow to buy a spicy grilled chicken leg.

'It ain't half-bad,' he recommended it to Johann, too, just in case. Johann seemed to more or less get what he signed, but he shook his head, declining the suggestion.

Nicolas was devouring his chicken with big bites on the way back to Theo's clinic. Peeling off the skin with a slurp, he sucked it into his mouth. The taste was on the blank side, but spices and burnt oil smell were tasty on their own.

Noticing that Johann had finally felt like talking, Nicolas focused on reading his lips.

"---away from the stall and I am grateful for that. It was much too smoky there that I could not even speak."

Nicolas didn't reply to that. The reason why he moved away from the stall was because the next customer in the line frowned in resentment upon noticing the tags on Nicolas' chest, and Nicolas simply didn't want to cause trouble to the stall-keeper by overstaying his welcome, but trying to explain all of that to Johann, who didn't understand sign language, was too much trouble.

About 5 yards away from the clinic, Nicolas stopped, and Johann got to the point.

"I came to this city to find my little sister."

Nicolas propped the back of one leg against the fence and leaned his weight on it. Biting into the chicken leg close to his own fingers that held it, he urged the youth with his chin to go on.

"It is this girl. Do you know her?"

Johann produced a photo of a boy and a girl. The boy was Johann, but Nicolas didn't know the girl. Must be that little sister of his. The girl was about 12-13 and wore a silver necklace shaped like an angel's wing.

Nicolas didn't remember ever seeing it though, so he shook his head.

"That's not true," Johann said in a cutting tone. "I can smell my sister's scent on you."

At that, Nicolas sniffed his own arm. It smelled only of chicken to him.

Johann's eyes were completely serious.

"You must know her. I have never been wrong about smells. That was how I found Dario and Worick-san yesterday."

Even if so, what Nicolas didn't know he didn't know.

"To be honest, this clinic, too, smells of my sister just a little, but the reek of the chemicals is too strong, so I cannot say for sure. Does anything come to mind?"

Nicolas drew a complete blank.

Speaking of girls in Theo's clinic, only Nina came to mind. Besides her, there were only outlaws spreading the alcohol stench.

So Nicolas waved a hand, letting the other know that it didn't ring a bell for him.

"I do not like lies."

But it wasn't a lie. He really didn't know that girl.

Nicolas let out a weary sigh. The chicken leg had mostly become only the bone now. His belly, in contrast, felt sufficiently full. So he launched the remaining bone into the nearest garbage bin. Come to think of it, they had found this young man at a garbage dump site, too, Nicolas idly recalled as he wiped his stained fingertips on the fence. But remembering that served no purpose.

He gazed at Johann sideways. The youth was talking too fast, and it was hard to read it.

'Is that all you wanted from me?'

At Nicolas' gesture, Johann cocked his head to the side quizzically.

Nicolas' words didn't reach him. Not that Nicolas intended to get through to him to begin with.

He had humored the guy for long enough already. Time to go back to the clinic, he decided and moved his leg off the fence it was rested against. When he turned his back to Johann, he felt a voice come from behind him.

"Wait!" the youth had probably screamed. Unfortunately, Nicolas didn't see his mouth to know for sure.

The young man thrust a hand beneath his down coat clearly too big for him. A gun? Or maybe a knife. He was fingering something intended to deal damage to the enemy confronted head-on, in any case. That much could be read in the youth's pupils.

The thirst for blood. Except it was too dull. Yawn-inducing, even.

'When you work up the resolve to take that out, come again and we'll play.'

Communicating this without voicing, Nicolas started walking towards the clinic. As expected, his urge to kill did not get more tangible just from Johann glaring daggers at him.

In the end, Worick dealt with his cigarette butt by running after Theo to dispose of it.

Just when he pushed the door leading from the back room back to the examination room open, the door on the other end of the room opened as well, and Nicolas showed his face.

Smiling a light smile, Worick waved a hand at him.

"Welcome back, Nic-chan. Did you get in a fight with Johann-chan?" 'We didn't come to blows.' "I see. That's a cryptic answer though."

Before Worick closed the door, he stuck only his head in the adjourning room to say, "Well then, see you, doc. But I'll be back." "Don't be. Your wounds will heal on their own without my help." "Not for that. I forgot to bring something."

A few hand waves later he closed the door.

"I'll go retrieve it now, so come with me," he then requested of Nicolas.

With Nicolas coming to his side, he studied his face and suddenly stared in wonder.

"You went to grab a bite, didn't you?"

Now that he thought about it, he had left collecting the pay from Granny Joel for fulfilling her request to Nicolas. Due to him drinking the night away with Dario that evening, his memories were vague, but he felt he had yet to see his share of the money.

Nicolas wiped his lips of pepper stuck to them.

'It's only due reward. I was the one to do all the work for that request anyway.' "You just went and arbitrary pocketed the money. And I got stuck with babysitting." 'Didn't you crave to get close to him? Bed-sharing's your forte, wasn't it.' "My manual labor costs more than yours, Nic-chan, and I need to be properly paid for it. Was it yummy? Where did you buy that chicken? I want a bite of it too."

When they exited Theo's clinic, Nicolas took a careful look around the street.

"What, did the stall poof out of existence or what?"

There was no sign of a possible attack. At least Worick didn't feel anything of the sort.

'Johann's gone.' "Oh."

Worick took in their surroundings and noticed something. One of the windows on the second floor was open.

"Up there. Maybe he entered through the window." 'Window?' "You do it too when you're in a hurry."

Seeing Nicolas' puzzled expression made Worick realize that for some reason he had irrationally expected Nicolas to notice a certain fact about Johann somehow.

"Apparently, that boy, too, has tags hanging around his neck, you see. Although they're hidden by his huge down coat." 'Ohh.'

Nicolas flashed a slasher grin. That of a hungry predator.

Worick's lips twisted into a strained smile.

"Owie, Nic, such a scary face. What on earth has happened?" 'I should've made him take out whatever it was he was hiding, by force if necessary.' "So you did get in a fight with him, huh. I was worried, you know?" 'We were only a mere step away from fighting.' "Oh really." 'So frustratingly close.' "Is it too much to ask of you to try and open your eyes to the concept of pacifism, if just a little?" 'Did you know that peace and war hold the same meaning for all the species except humans?'

You guys are humans too, Worick was about to say but held his tongue. For Worick, too, was prepared to unsheathe the proverbial sword against Johann - tonight or tomorrow. In the not so distant future, in any case.

If Johann had turned his blade against them first, it would have made this a little simpler, perhaps. Or if Worick just hadn't bothered with him on that first night to begin with. But that wasn't how it went.

It was strange, Worick thought. Why did Johann let himself be beaten up without resisting on that night? If he fought back, it went without saying that a gang of 3 puny thugs wouldn't have stood half a chance. Did he try to uphold the three laws? No, couldn't be. There had to be something else, some other---

When he arrived at the word 'reason', he couldn't help a laugh.

No, he couldn't let himself be bothered with details. Not this once.

Johann was a Twilight. And also, in all likelihood, the one behind the mafia killings. But the person Worick’s mind was preoccupied with even more than Johann was Dario.

If so, there was no need for reason or logic with him. Not with someone who didn't give a damn about guns pointed at him, who ran over two people with his beloved car even after getting shot in the leg, who cried over a kiddy fairy-tale. With someone who was a big fool of a man that way.

Worick looked up at the sky. A cloud had arrived and the dusk of the evening colored it dull gold. The humidity levels were on the rise, Worick thought, pressing a hand to his forever lost left eye.

← to chapter 2 to chapter 4 →

#gangsta.

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15 Funny Pictures Of NBA Players

New Post has been published on https://funnythingshere.xyz/15-funny-pictures-of-nba-players/

15 Funny Pictures Of NBA Players

by Jay Spring

– on Apr 05th

in NBA

We’ve almost made it to the 2018 NBA postseason without much bad news. A few stars have been hurt hear and there, some have been traded, but nothing out of the ordinary. The Golden State Warriors are still the odds-on favorites to win the NBA championship even if Steph Curry is set to miss the first round of the playoffs. The Houston Rockets may prove to be a formidable challenger to them, but fans are still preparing for the possibility of a fourth straight Golden State/Cleveland final. What is pretty positive about this season, more importantly, is that there hasn’t been a notable scandal, leaving viewers to focus on the players, not their personal lives.

Well, we figured that with the lack of juicy news this season, you might want a fresh dose of NBA hilarity. Whether these players are partying in the club, caught in odd situations, or just being awkward, it’s time to highlight their unprofessional ways. Grab a court-side seat for 15 funny pictures of NBA players. Some may have been seen before, but chances are, you’ll come across a few of these and have a nice laugh.

15 Draymond Green’s Obsession With Leg Kicks

via nypost.com

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Tough-nosed defensive specialist, Draymond Green, can be a little scrappy sometimes. During the 2016 Western Conference Finals, Green came under heat as his flailing leg found it’s way into OKC center, Steven Adams’, groin. Not just once, but twice!

The more obvious incident occurred in Game 3 when Green tried to draw the foul in the paint, ferociously swinging his leg between Steven Adams legs, nailing the Australian ‘down under.’ While Green was assessed a Flagrant I for the unnecessary kick, he wasn’t ejected for it.

A less blatant incident occurred just days before in Game 2, and Adams was the victim yet again. As the Golden State power forward drove to the hole, he tried to Euro-step Adams, but ended up kneeing him below the belt instead.

After these incidents, fans went back to look at past game film, and realized that the flailing leg maneuver had been utilized by Green since his days as a Michigan State Spartan! Moral of the story for any NBA big men: if you are facing the Warriors, wear a cup!

14 Barnes Caught Looking

via twitter.com

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That’s one devious stare. NBA forward, Harrison Barnes, was caught looking at then-Warriors reporter, Rosalyn Gold-Onwude. Clearly, that gaze is inappropriate, since the reporter is just trying to do her job. Barnes is stuck in a fantastical daydream, pretty much undressing Gold-Onwude with his eyes!

While we would like to think this is an isolated incident for the NBA on TNT analyst, Barnes wasn’t the only one staring her down. Even the Golden State Warriors head coach, Steve Kerr, was caught looking at her! Kerr once subtly peeked back at Gold-Onwude as she was passing by on the sideline, with his line of sight directed at her back!

On top of all that, an NBA referee was once busted checking out the reporter. How crazy is that? Gold-Onwude must have a gift!

13 Dirk Diggler

via brohamsblog.blogspot.com

We start off with Dallas Mavericks long-standing power forward, Dirk Nowtizki. The 2007 NBA MVP is an absolute legend on the court, posting two-decades of success and an NBA Championship,along with countless other accolades to his Hall of Fame resume. But the ‘Germanator’ has many talents other than basketball, and one of them is drink heavily.

Nowitzki really knows his way around the party. After losing to a D-Wade and Shaq-lead Miami Heat squad in the 2006 NBA Championships, Dirk reportedly went on a three-week bender and ended up in Vegas!

In this inappropriate picture, Nowitzki looks to be plastered as he flashes the camera at what looks like a college party. For now, we’ll give him the benefit of the doubt and assume Nelly’s Hot in Herre came over the speakers!

12 Kobe Posters Howard

via youtube.com

It’s no secret that the ‘Black Mamba’ never got along with Dwight Howard when the two were teammates in LA. After Howard left the Lakers, Bryant called him ‘soft’ and a ‘teddy bear.’ Bryant admittedly attempted to mold Howard into a championship contender, but failed. He told reporters:

“I tried teaching Dwight. I tried showing him…And I don’t think he was willing to deal with that uncomfortable and combative nature.”

While all of that may be true, we think Dwight still held a grudge from this malicious slam Kobe threw down on him while he was a rookie. Kobe did him real dirty, and that posterization is so good that it’s inappropriate. No one should have to deal with that kind of shame and embarrasment!

11 Andre Kirilenko

via litprocess.ru

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Former Russian NBAer Andrei Kirilenko is not a Hall of Famer by any means, but he did have a decent career. The lock-down defender made the All-Star team in 2004, and was the NBA blocks leader the following year. One thing you may not know about AK-47 though is that his wife, Masha Lopatova, doesn’t care if he sleeps around.

Lopatova, a Russian pop-star, allows Kirilenko a hall-pass to get with whom ever he wants. Her reasoning? Well, Lopatova actually takes a logical approach to the situation, as she told the Salt Lake Tribune back in 2006 …

“It’s the same way raising children — If I tell my child, ‘No pizza, no pizza, no pizza,’ what does he want more than anything? Pizza!”

In this picture, it looks like the former Utah Jazz forward had a couple extra slices!

10 Too Close For Comfort!

via nydailynews.com

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The 2017 NBA Finals saw Kevin Durant finally win the elusive title that he’s been searching for. The Warriors dominated, going on a near-perfect playoff run, 16-1, in the post-season. But one moment you may have missed from the otherwise lackluster NBA Championship was when Cleveland’s Tristan Thompson and Golden State’s David West nearly locked lips!

During the second quarter of Game 5, Thompson tried to rip the rock away from West, leading the players to get into a slight shoving match. The close-up altercation led to one of the funniest moments from the NBA Finals, as they seemed to be dangerously close to kissing!

Both players, and J.R. Smith, were hit with technicals, but Thompson and West still share a moment they will never forget!

9 Jump Ball?

via brilio.net

The OKC-LA rivalry was heated back in the day. With Kobe in his prime and Durant trying to make a name for himself, the two teams had plenty of intense battles. Key Thunder players, like Russell Westbrook and James Harden, stepped-up in the clutch, while Lakers role players, like Pau Gasol and Metta World Peace(Ron Artest), were vital for the purple and gold.

The competition on the court led to this embarrassing, and inappropriate photo of both Durant and World Peace seemingly sandwiching the ball! Both of them look to be having a little too much fun victimizing that basketball. What did that poor Spalding ever do to you?

LA won the battle over the years though, as they took a home a championship in 2010, while OKC has faltered since their loss in the 2012 NBA Finals!

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8 Nash Gets An Extra Treat At A Concert

via youtube.com

Steve Nash may be a two-time NBA MVP, but it’s his off-the-court issues that are the most memorable. First, there was the whole rumor that his wife was creeping with teammates Leandro Barbosa and Jason Richardson. Nash divorced his wife right after they had their child, and many speculated that the baby turned out a little darker than expected. That rumor has since been disproved, but it will live forever in NBA folklore.

But the inappropriate picture of Canada’s favorite “Floor General” comes form a 2011 Nicki Minaj concert – where he was the lucky recipient of her on-stage “lapdance.” Nashty Nash went through every emotion in the book during his fun ride: anger, happiness, elation, pleasure, confidence, and even fear! When the singer was done, his smile turned to regret, as he waltzed off the stage waiting to fight the public media firestorm.

7 I Love You Hakeem!

via reddit.com

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The year was 1986. A Bill Fitch coached Rockets team was poised to get to the finals, yet the number-one-seeded Lakers stood in their way. In the Western Conference Finals, Houston and LA battled, but it was Space City who went into Game 5 with a 3-1 series lead.

With five minutes remaining in Game 5, the Laker’s Mitch Kupchak hit Hakeem “The Dream” Olajuwon with an off-ball arm check, leading to an intense brawl. The two swung at each other while referee Jess Kersey hung on for dear life as he tried to separate them. From the picture, it just looks like he’s trying to give Olajuwon some lovin!

After Hakeem was ejected, the Rockets went on to defeat their rivals 114-112 on a miraculous, off-balance buzzer beater by Ralph Samson. The Lakers were stunned, but got the last laugh as Boston went on to defeat Houston in the Championship.

6 Just A Slight Breeze

via youtube.com

There are a number of ridiculous, dirty, and inappropriate tactics that NBAers use to get in the head of their opponents. Sometimes it’s physical, like a slight pinch in the back on the post, or an unexpected elbow down-low. While other times it’s verbal trash-talk, like Kevin Garnett’s infamous insult to Carmelo: “your wife tastes like Honey Nut Cheerios!” Whatever the case, one particular mind-game that stands out is Lance Stephenson’s attempt to blow LeBron off of his throne.

During the 2014 NBA Finals, Stephenson was toying with LeBron’s head, trying to throw him out of his game. In Game 5, as the Pacers guard was matched up against LBJ, he deeply inhaled, then blew right into the four-time NBA MVP’s ear.

Childish and Inappropriate? Yes. But the tactic worked, as James only put up seven points that game! Unfortunately for Stephenson, the Heat went on to win that series in six games.

5 Digging For Gold!

via youtube.com

Coming in at number five of inappropriate NBAers is a whole slough of ballers who got caught mining for green gold. Pictured here are superstars Kevin Duran and LeBron James trying to reach their goobers, but they aren’t the only victims. Kobe Bryant, Steve Francis, Draymond Green, Rajon Rondo are among the players who have been caught picking there nose on live TV!

Some players try to be inconspicuous by using a towel or a teammate as a shield to hide their shame from the cameras. Others don’t give a sh*t as they explore their brain in front of the world! Also, instead of the old “pick it and flick it” technique, some of them even decided to grab a mid-game snack! Inappropriate is an understatement; that’s just gross.

4 Griffin’s Nose

via espn.com

First off, for any of you squeamish readers: sorry. No one should have to scroll down to see that gushing waterfall of red oozing out of someone’s nose. But this whole thing is about inappropriate pictures, so what did you expect?

During Game 3 of the 2014 Western Conference Semi-Finals between the Thunder and Clippers, LA forward Blake Griffin caught a nasty elbow from OKC’s Serge Ibaka. That looks horrible! What did the refs do about it?

Well, nothing. No fouls were called on Ibaka’s “People’s Elbow.” Griffin was left gushing blood onto the court, hoping that the Clippers could take revenge in the game.

Unfortunately for ‘Lob City,’ they went on to lose that game 118-112, and lost the series, with the Thunder taking it in six!

3 Ron Artest Doesn’t Care

via grantland.com

Ron Artest, aka Metta World Peace, is a polarizing, entertaining, and extremely inappropriate character. There was once the time he claimed to be molested by a ghost in an Oklahoma City Hotel. Another instance he admitted to drinking Hennessey in the locker room at half-time.

Then there was the infamous ‘Malice in the Palace,’ where an on-court scuffle between Artest and Piston’s player, Ben Wallace, got out of hand. Artest made his way into the stands, assaulting a man for throwing a plastic cup of Diet Coke at him. He wasn’t done though as the then-Pacer attached two more fans in the stands. The NBA came down hard on Artest, suspending him for the entrie season.

It’s hard to sum up his career in just one picture, but this ‘I don’t give a —- photo of Artest is spot-on. He really had no shame, and no gauge of what was appropriate, and what wasn’t!

2 Jordan Busts A Move

via tarheeltimes.com

Michael Jordan has been thoroughly enjoying his retirement. He owns the Charlotte Hornets, he is now married to Cuban model Yvette Prieto, and he’s partying like a six-time NBA Champion!

In 2006, MJ and his first-wife of 17 years, Juanita Jordan, “amicably” ended their marriage. A few months later, “Air Jordan” was snapped in Cabo San Lucas living the bachelor life of a true champion. With his signature hoop earring and cigar in his right hand, he broke it down in Mexico with two party girls! Nothing like a little bumping and grinding to drown out the pain of divorce.

This behavior wasn’t out of the ordinary for Jordan – even when he was married. The five-time NBA MVP has been known to get his drink, and his gamble on! Some even speculate that his hiatus from the NBA mid-90s was due to an unannounced gambling suspension! Whatever way you look at it, Jordan’s behavior in this picture is just normal for him, but definitely inappropriate overall!

1 Nick Young Doesn’t Know When To Celebrate

via youtube.com

We don’t mind players celebrating at all after a successful basket or making a terrific play. However, we do have a problem with celebrating a miss. That’s the predicament Nick Young found himself in after taking a three-pointer and turning his back to celebrate even though the shot was about as well executed as Carlton Banks stealing the ball from his teammate Will and airballing it. Young’s NBA career today is hanging on by a thread, as he’s able to quietly stay on the bench in Golden State, and this has to be one of the laugh out loud moments of his career.

That’s it for today for inappropriate pictures of NBA players. Want more sports entertainment? Don’t forget to check us out on Facebook at TheSportster!

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