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beerecordings · 2 years

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Werewolf AU - Part 9

He sets the basket down carefully on the porch, crouching to rearrange the violets and caramel sticks, making sure the little card is nestled safely at the bottom.

Sorry for yelling at you in class. - Marvin

It's a pretty pathetic apology, he knows, but at least the flowers and candy are nice. He lets a breath slide out of him, closing his eyes as a faint memory washes over him, remembering how he used to be told what a sweet kid he was when he was younger. Growing flowers in the garden outside Dad's house and bringing them to his teachers at the end of the year. How people used to remark on how bright his smile was. How making caramels was a hobby, and not something he remembered he could do as he was scouring his brain for ways to even start making this all better.

Sometimes he feels like he grew up crooked, folding over himself like a sunflower that gets too heavy to hold itself up. Golden face turned towards the dirt.

“That's depressing,” he mutters to himself, getting up and wiping his hands on his pants, turning to walk back to his place without bothering to ring the doorbell. Nobody's stealing shit in a neighborhood like this. The basket can wait, and he isn't up for talking.

Speak of the devil: Sean's calling. Unfortunately, he owes him the courtesy of taking his calls.

“Hey,” he says, trying not to sound like a miserable son of a bitch.

“Hey,” replies Sean, and okay, he does sound like a miserable son of a bitch.

“You've not slept?”

Sean huffs. “I'm calling about you.”

“Oh, that's healthy.”

“Have you slept?”

Marvin shrugs, even though Sean can't see him. “Tried to.”

“Poor brother,” murmurs Sean. “You gotta do something about this, Marv. Talked to Jackie?”

“No. I - no.”

There's shuffling on the other side of the phone. “I have to submit a court report for you next week. You've got your status hearing.”

“Yeah. Do you have to tell them I'm not improving?”

“Having stuff you need to work through isn't 'not improving.' Honestly, I think you have to hit a wall before you can get over it. I'll tell them you're coming to every class despite personal chaos going on, and that's a damn good thing. But I also want to be able to tell them you're actively participating. So I made a therapy appointment for you before court.”

Marvin closes his eyes, letting that hit him. He thought he'd be mad about it, but maybe he's just tired.

“You'll go, won't you, Marvin? You need it.”

“My dad tried to make me see a therapist after Graham got arrested. Hated the guy.”

“If you don't like this guy, I'll refer you to someone else. We'll keep trying until you find someone you like. But you have to try with me.”

He reaches the door of his house, sliding the keys inside while trying not to drop his phone.

“Okay. Yeah. I'll go.”

“Thank you.”

“Don't thank me. I should probably be thanking you.”

Sean chuckles humorlessly. “Yeah, cause I've been so helpful and attentive.”

Marvin blinks, surprised by the tone. He doesn't know what to say.

“Is your landlord bothering you?" Sean continues. "I was wondering if you need help finding a new place or if you're planning to stay there for a while.”

“He hasn't come by since he found out I was a werewolf. I worry he'll find a reason to evict me, but nothing yet. I know my rights.”

“Okay. Let me know if you need help handling him, though. I've still got to figure out a way to help Schneep get his stuff back. I think his place is leased by the hospital, not actually him, and I'm worried they'll drop the contract or something...”

Marvin listens to Sean distractedly, shoving some caramel-coated pots in the sink. “Uh-huh.”

“And the other night when I got called, that was brutal. Some of those cops work with me a lot better than others. I keep bringing coffee over to the station to get to know them, but you can tell which ones are open to working with me and which aren't...”

Marvin stares at the handle of his pot. This is his favorite pot. He blinks. Has it always looked like this? The handle is silver. Has it always been silver? This is his favorite pot. Has he ever used this pot before?

“Marvin?” asks Sean.

“What?” He blinks again, pulling away from the sink and putting his hand to his head.

“I asked if you wanted to talk to Henrik about some sleep meds or something.”

“Um.” Marvin glances around the kitchen. His kitchen? Is this...

Is this his duplex? He doesn't... surely the wallpaper hasn't always been this color. Wow, there's scratches here, against the wood of his doorway. He steps forward, touching the scars in the paneling. He's never seen these before. He's never... he's never been here before.

In the window above his dining table, he sees the reflection of a human looking back at him.

Is that him?

“Marvin,” Sean calls. “Marvin, hey.”

“I'm,” says Marvin, blinking. “I'm. I'm. My head hurts.”

“Marvin.”

He sinks to the floor, unsteady, and then he loses awareness.

He's tired.

Air in. Air out. Hhhhh, goes the soft swish of his own breathing.

Heavy. He's heavy. He's tired.

Something soft beneath him. Something warm on his shoulder. It moves. He's too tired to care about why, or what it is that's touching him. He feels...

Thick. Like honey. The slow shift of something molten, more rock than magma.

Hhhhhh. Air in, air out.

He's tired.

"Hey, are you with me?" someone whispers. "I know you're sleepy. I know. You there?"

His eyes flicker and roll. There's wetness all down the side of his beard. His own saliva, escaped from his mouth.

Wait, what? What's going on? Where is he?

Something warm settles in his hair. A hand. Fingers.

"You got a headache? I don't know if you hit your head or not."

He blinks, regaining some vision as the fingers move through his hair, checking for bumps. There's a familiar face above him.

Why is he here? They've been fighting. And Graham... Marvin couldn't have called him.

"Did I have a seizure?" he whispers.

"Yeah." Jackie scratches his nails gently along his back. "Sean called me. Said you spaced out and scared him. He didn't have your address."

Marvin's too tired to worry about it. He closes his eyes.

"I'll get you right to bed," Jackie promises, squeezing warmly at his neck, and it soothes Marvin down to the core of him, this reassurance that another wolf would touch the most vulnerable part of him and not hurt him. "But we gotta get you cleaned up a little bit first. Do you want a rinse or should I wipe you down?"

Ugh, he can't make decisions right now. He shakes his head, whining, and Jackie leans down to press their heads together for a second.

"I know," his cousin murmurs. "I know. I'm right here."

Marvin sighs.

This... this makes sense. The way Jackie's here. He can't think past that. He just knows that Jackie's always there when he has a seizure. Dad told Graham all about how to take care of him, checked that he would watch over him so many times, but it was never Uncle Graham. Never. It was Jackie, always. And here he is now. Appeared like the Batsignal went off the second Marvin dropped.

"Should I wipe you down?"

"No... a shower."

"I'll get your chair."

Marvin drifts as Jackie gets a shower started, coming back to scoop him into his arms and lift him up. How is it that no matter how old he gets, he always seems to fit right here?

They go through the motions quietly. Jackie peels his clothes off and sets him down on his shower chair, guiding the spray of hot water over his body as Marvin sits back, trying not to fall asleep. Jackie smooths his hair back from his face and takes his earrings and bracelets off belatedly, setting them down on the kitchen sink. Puts soap on a washcloth and wakes him up to wash the urine off himself with sweet-smelling soap, vanilla and goat's milk.

"There you go," Jackie soothes, turning off the water. He brings back a towel and circles him with it, helping him dry off at least a little before scooping him up again and carrying him to his room, helping him into his pajamas and setting him on his bed, a big round werewolf bed made for two or more, made to be covered in blankets and clothes and anything that smells good. He and Jackie slept on a bed like this as kids, together, sometimes with other puppies, too, and curtains tacked up around it to shelter them in a warm cave of comfort. The littlest members of the pack, coated in everybody else's warm smell, completely safe.

"Don't go," mumbles Marvin, already sinking into his pillows. Jackie pulls the comforter over him. "I don't want to have another one in my sleep."

"I'll watch over you," Jackie tells him. "I'm not going anywhere."

Why does his voice tremble like that?

Marvin drags his eyes, circled in blue, up to his cousin. Jackie's head is low, his mouth shaking.

“Jackie,” he whispers.

“I'm sorry, Marvin,” Jackie croaks. “I'm so sorry. For all of it. I'm so – I'm so ashamed, I – ”

Marvin is so tired.

Jackie reaches out, placing his hand in his hair again. His warm fingers stroke against his skull.

“Go to sleep, Marvel,” he manages, voice cracked like old pavement, in pieces. “I won't go. I'll watch over you. Sleep.”

So Marvin does.

“Hey, this is Chase,” he answers the phone, pressing it against his ear as he butters bread, setting the slices down one after another.

“Chase? It's, uh. It's Jackie. From class?”

Chase chuckles. “Yeah, I know which Jackie. Although, now that I think about it, I don't know your last name. Or Marvin's.”

“I don't know yours,” admits Jackie.

“Well, hi, Chase Brody, nice to meet you.”

Jackie huffs out half a laugh. “Jack O'Connell. Top of the morning.”

“Haha. Guessing you didn't call just to say hi?”

“I... I don't mean to bother you. Do you have a minute, or...?”

“Yeah.” Chase sets the last slice of bread down, opening the fridge to grab the cheese. “I got time. Are you okay?”

Jackie pauses.

Chase steadies the phone against his ear. “Jackie. Are you safe?”

“Yes,” Jackie says. “It's not that. I was just thinking about what you said. About your dad.”

Chase grins weakly. “Yeah. My dad.”

“He... wasn't good to you.”

“Well, that's kind of the shitty part,” Chase says. “When he was good, he was so good. He played games with me, cooked with me, loved on me. He was really good with me about ninety-five percent of the time.”

“Right. Yeah. But the other five percent.”

Chase closes his eyes for a second.

“Hey!” calls Henrik from the other room. “You mind if I run a load of laundry?”

“Go for it! I'm making dinner, so it'll be ready in a few!”

“Okay, thanks.”

“How's the doc?” asks Jackie, a little shakily.

“We were talking about dads,” Chase reminds him, steadying himself. “If you want to talk about this, let's talk. No backing out.”

Another pause.

“Okay.”

“My mom was worse to me than he was. Didn't have the time of day for me. Used all sorts of shit around me, brought all sorts of people around. But my dad, I always felt loved by him. It was my sister, she was the one who was really the victim. I saw some of it, enough that I wish I had done something. But I was scared to get my dad in trouble. I loved him.”

“You saw your sister get hurt,” croaks Jackie.

“Yeah.”

“You wanted to protect her. But – you didn't?”

Chase swallows, straightening up. He can talk about this. He can.

“I didn't,” he says.

“Does – does it – does it haunt you? That you didn't?”

“I wish I could tell you it didn't, man,” Chase murmurs. “Because I was a damn kid, I really was. Twelve years old when the suits finally caught on and got us out of there. I was so little. And I didn't know what to do. Jackie, I've met so many foster kids who never said shit against their parents, or only did it at the very breaking point, and too many of them regretted it afterwards. Not just because being in the system is hell on earth, but because they never meant to get Mom and Dad in trouble. They just wanted it to stop. And I loved my dad, Jackie. I loved my dad so much.”

“But that was your sister,” says Jackie, and he's gasping now, almost crying. Chase's eyes prickle. He sits down at the kitchen counter, his cooking abandoned around him. “Why didn't you protect her? Your own sister?”

And it's so completely not about Chase, in that moment. He sees it in a second. He got help for this shit years ago, as much as anyone could give him. Maybe Jackie didn't. Maybe nobody ever told him he was a damn kid.

“Because I loved my dad, Jackie. I loved my dad. Because I was a kid. I was a little kid in the hardest situation possible, and staying together with my family was the only thing I was clinging to. I didn't protect her because I couldn't. It wasn't my fault. Jackie. It wasn't your fault.”

He is crying now, on the other side of the phone. Chase can hear him, hiccuping and gasping, even pulled away from the phone as he is.

“It wasn't your fault,” he repeats, softer.

“Even after they took my dad away,” Jackie cries. “Even after he was gone, I didn't have his back. I didn't protect him. That was my job.”

“It wasn't.”

“It was. If I didn't, no one would.”

“Then it never should have been your job.”

“I never said a fucking word. I just – I never – never did anything – ”

“Really? You never did anything to protect him? It wasn't your job, but somehow I don't believe that, Jackie, even after meeting you just twice.”

“I was stupid,” Jackie rages. “I thought Dad would leave him alone if he just – if I could – if he would just – ”

Chase's stomach drops. He sighs out, settling his palm flat along his counter. “If he would just hurt you instead of Marvin.”

Jackie whimpers. “I love my dad,” he sobs. “I don't know why he did those things to me. To us. I tried to be good. I love my dad.”

“I know,” Chase answers, soft. “Jackie. You have no idea how – how not alone you are. How many kids I met who were just like you, how often I heard from siblings trying to protect each other, trying not to tell anyone so they wouldn't take your sibling or your cousin or whoever it is away. And you know, maybe it looks obvious to other people, that we should just tell, but... there's a point, there. Because a year after I was taken away, I had lost all communication with my sister. We haven't talked since I was thirteen.”

That seems to stop Jackie, sniffling on the other side of the phone. “What? How is that possible?”

Chase shrugs. “We're half-siblings. She went back to her mom. Mine wasn't sober enough to take me. I went into the system, got shipped around dozens of foster homes. And yeah, I tried to get in touch with her since. I've reached out a couple times since I aged out. But she... she doesn't want to see me, Jackie. She doesn't want to remember. That's okay, but... it does hurt. That I lost her too.”

Jackie clears his throat, breathing steadying out a little. “That's awful, Chase.”

“I know.” Chase grins faintly, overwhelmed for a moment.

“What's your sister's name?”

Okay. Tears in his eyes. Chase swallows. “We called her Joey.”

“Joey,” Jackie repeats, after a moment.

He's stopped crying. Chase wonders what he's thinking. Wonders where he is. If he's alone.

“Hey, man.”

“Yeah?”

Chase closes his eyes. “I know she doesn't owe me anything, and I know I shouldn't blame myself for anything, but... if I could have even one chance to make things right with my sister – if I could have the privilege of just talking with her, being held by her, looking after her for one single day – you better believe I would do fucking anything to make things right between us. To be loved by my sister again, just one more time.”

Jackie breathes on the other side of the phone. In, out.

“Jackie,” says Chase. “Go look after your cousin.”

“Yeah,” whispers Jackie. “Yes. I will. I swear.”

Jackie thanks him softly and they end the call. Chase stands in his kitchen, eyes faraway, remembering.

The smell of lemon and ocean salt brings him back. He turns to see Henrik in the entryway, head tilted.

“Hey,” smiles Chase. “How does grilled cheese sound?”

Henrik blinks. “Good.”

“Come help me get the tomato soup on, okay?”

Henrik comes over and gets out a pan. “You okay?”

Chase tears open the bag of cheese and starts filling up the sandwiches. Just like his sister used to make.

“Yeah,” he says, and he means it. “I'm okay.”

He gives Henrik a hug, and when Henrik hugs him back, he doesn't feel alone.

#tw seizure #tw child abuse #tw foster care and family separation #werewolf au #bee writes #why does this werewolf au have so little wolf time in it... i will fix that lollll

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mesillusionssousecstasy · 1 year

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Gossip Girl Reboot 2x06: Quotes

- “New Year, same naïveté ? (Luna) - That’s why she’s always had us. You know what to do.” (Monet)

- “She’s more delusional than liberal Ye fans.” (Luna)

- “Whoever this Graham person is, he’s lying to her. It’s time to do some digging. (Luna) - Um, any advice on how to damage control a sex tape that you never made and haven’t seen? (Monet) - You sure it’s not you? (Luna) - There’s a man in it. (Monet) - Well, you need to find out why someone used you name in order to clear it before Vivid has you listed between a Hogan and a Hilton.” (Luna)

- “Sorry. Slammed doing recon for Julien. (Luna) - Fine. Find the perpetrator, delete the video, and make sure no one ever thinks that I’ve ever stepped foot in Philly. They’re called flyover states for a reason.” (Monet)

- “Please don’t hurt me. (Kate) - You’re too small to hurt. I prefer a fair fight.” (Georgina)

- “You wanna be Monet de Haan so bad? Do what she would do. Figure it out on your own. Clear my name or I’ll destroy yours, okay?” (Monet)

- “Who have I become? (Max) - A bridezilla, apparently.” (Audrey)

- “Bad things always happen in threes. It’s gotta be uphill from here.” (Gideon)

- “I know that look. You’re having second thoughts. (Luna) - What if we don’t have the whole story? Outing him in front of his pregnant wife is a little extreme. (Julien) - Two words. “Pregnant. Wife. Look you’re a good person, Jules, which is why you always try to see the best in others. To your own detriment. Case in point, your dad. It’s high time we end centuries of women giving men the benefit of the doubt. If not for you, do it for Ashley. (Luna) - We take this Stop the Story live in five.” (Julien)

- “How much fucking money does your dad actually have? (Obie) - Well, Bezos once asked him for a loan.” (Aki)

- “So is the experience of my first time. You took that from me, and I can’t get it back.” (Zoya)

- “What am I going to do with you? (Obie’s mother) - Aside from, kick me out of my home and cut me off? I don’t know. I guess you could, uh, you could arrange fo my untimely death to silence me. (Obie) - Don’t be so sensational. (Obie’s mother) - You knew that I would do this, huh? You, uh.... Did you cut me off to discredit me? (Obie) - You should have paid far closer attention when Papa was teaching you how to place chess, mein Schatz.” (Obie’s mother)

- “I exposed things that I didn’t even understand. I broke you guys up. (Max) - No. Things were broken between us long before you, yes, maybe carelessly intervened. We had to go through what we went through to get here on this stage with you. (Roy) - We had to fall apart to put our family back together again.” (Gideon)

- “That two people, against all odds, managed to meet in this city and fall for one another...but then (Julien) - Have too much between them to ever make it work?” (Graham)

- “If we truly love something, we should be willing to let it go...” (GG)

- “It’s an unexpected but welcomed surprise. Not, really, I’m touched... (Zoya) - You can stop there. I don’t do feelings. Ew” (Monet)

- “This shit with my dad keeps fucking with my life.” (Julien)

- “That’s a lesson some never learn. Tightening their grip... around a promise that will never be. Which is the most dangerous thing of all.” (GG)

- “Did you know that you have four weak points of entry and a very pliable super?” (Georgina)

- “I thought you might say that, which is why I’m gonna help you learn how to be a true agent of chaos. (Georgina) - I don’ want your help. (Kate) - I’m not like those other teachers. I don’t sting, I burn.” (Georgina)

- “Don’t you love Russian roulette ?” (Georgina)

- “Because while being in control may be an illusion, spinning out of it is very, very real.” (GG)

#gg reboot #gg reboot 2x06 #gossip girl reboot 2x06 #gg reboot quotes #gg reboot 2x06 quotes #gossip girl reboot 2x06 quotes #gg hbo #gossip girl hbo

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theadventurerslog · 1 year

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King's Quest VI: Heir Today Gone Tomorrow | Part 1

The Adventurer’s Log

King’s Quest VI: Heir Today Gone Tomorrow Part 1

Release date: 1992 (1993)

Introduction

King's Quest VI puts us back in the shoes of Alexander. It's been a few months since Graham saved them from Mordack and Alexander is pining for Princess Cassima. He's heard no word of her and has found nothing to tell him where the Land of the Green Isles is.

Valanice tells him it's been months and he essentially should move on and think of other things to which he sort of reluctantly agrees and she leaves. But then the magic mirror activates! As it does.

And Cassima's voice can be heard calling for Alexander and then he gets a vision of her. She 'feels so alone and doesn't know what to do. Alexander...'

You know, the chest of infinite gold and the shield that were the other two treasures Graham got back in the first game never come up again, but this mirror is sure getting its use. It's been in every game in some capacity except for V.

I'm about to get cranky for a moment, and I don't want that to give the wrong impression because I am excited for this game and have already had a great time with my first session, but this is one of the reasons I was cranky about the ending of KQV. They were deliberately building to this game, so why did they make the meeting between Alexander and Cassima that rough with such a poor first impression of Alexander? I can suspend my disbelief for this game for love at first sight (as silly as it is), especially for this series where it's a very common thing, but from Cassima's point of view, especially with the trouble currently going on there as we'll learn about, what is there for her to think about in regards to Alexander now? Just argh.

Anyway, this is enough to get the smitten Alexander going and he gathers a crew and ship and sets sail to find the Land of the Green Isles.

After three months of sailing certain lands are spotted, but when they get close night falls and a storm starts raging. They're dashed upon the rocks and ship wreck...

Title screen! Look at the 3D text.

And the adventure begins as Alexander wakes up on the shores...

He got his men safely to lifeboats but wasn't able to make it himself. And we have text again! Voice and text thank goodness.

I poked around a bit and lifted the plank to find a broken chest underneath that contained one single Daventry copper coin. Alexander's insignia ring was also on the beach.

Then there was one tradition to fulfill. Out into the water you go, sir!

It actually warns you of the undertow when you first enter the water, so you have a chance to back off, but you know. Gotta do it once. He gets swept out to sea and...

Well, down he goes. Sorry Alexander.

Fancy death screen in this game!

And snarky narrator message. I really quite like the narrator in this game. Did I mention this game has actual voice actors now?

Once I was done drowning poor Alexander (what do you think of your choices now, Cassima?) I set off down the path to find a branching path.

I've got a town in one direction a castle in the other. I went for the town first.

We've got a pawn shoppe, a book shoppe and an old man selling old lamps for new. I talked to him and Alexander questions his business practice to which he explains that 'there's always a chance he'll find a genie and be richer than a king! And there's always a roaring business in antique illuminaries.'

Unfortunately, newly washed up and all, I have no new lamps for him, so there's nothing to be done at this point.

I went to the pawn shoppe next to a very familiar voice because the shop keeper is voiced by the same person who voices King Andre in The Curse of Monkey Island and it's a very recognizable voice. When I first heard it in the let's play I perked up like 'I know him!' It might be silly but I always get happy recognizing a voice actor. It's just fun.

Like this pawn shop is fun!

There are so many things to examine and so many good descriptions.

I love this hatchet spiel. It's just an axe lodged in the floor, but off he goes...

And then! Examining the shelves brings up all kinds of jokes relating to the past games such as:

And

And a 'golden bridle finder, for finding those nearly-invisible golden bridles', a box of 'cat-cookie mix. "Play tricks on your friends," the box says' and 'self-adhesive emeralds. "What you use when you don't have honey." and something I greatly needed: "stairs traction pads; "Stop slipping off those narrow staircases." And there were more! But I won't list every single one.

There were also potions and things like "a bottle labeled 'Owl Courage Potion," for spineless owls.' and 'a small box of "Enchanted Sorcerer's Flea and Tick Collars." Among other goodies.

The shop keeper was surprised to find Alexander didn't know where he was and explains he's landed on the Land of the Green Isles. We made it! And Alexander explains how he reached here, following the stars...

He sure is. With Princess Cassima! For the best reaction.

He has a little more information: Cassima is in a dark time, things aren't well between the islands and the ferry is no longer running. Otherwise there isn't much info to get from him but he does have items on the counter the copper Daventry coin can be used on. Get one item but able to exchange it for one of the others any time. There's a mechanical nightingale, a flute, a tinderbox and a paintbrush. None of which there is currently a known use for, but I snagged the flute for fun. There's also a bowl of free mints for customers and I grabbed one.

I moved onto the book shop next.

Books! And more information to be had! But first there was a little table with bargain books.

Of course I had to take it, especially being free and everything. What could it be?

Very very confusingly boring. When I later tried to give it back to the owner he was aghast--he was trying to get RID of it.

The cloaked man wouldn't talk but examining him notes that he seems to keep watching you. He may have refused to talk, but the fire will be friendly instead.

I tried talking to it. There's a number of things that give you some kind of response if you use the talk command. I'd tried it on the Daventry coin earlier too and being a coin of Daventry had King Graham's face on it, so the message was something like 'only if King Graham were here to ask for his advice.'

Anyway the little book on the table was about court entertainment. One shelf had some silly guide books and the next had a book of poetry that Alexander had to read. There were a few he seemed to appreciate but then one in particular 'hit close to home' and he was quite taken by it. The page falls out when putting the book back the shop owner lets you keep it because he's already had to repair it twice and doesn't want to do it.

The poem in question:

I wanted to record it because this narrator reads it with so much gravity. And this boy is truly lovesick.

The shopkeeper had some more information. He also notes the ferry no longer runs between the islands. There's been much political unrest and it's been too dangerous to travel. He also mentions at least three islands but there may be a fourth. And that the Land of the Green Isles is said to exist on the boundaries of this world and the next. He mentions a ferry man to talk to and that's all for now here. Time to find the ferryman.

Passing through the archway in town led to this house with many roses along its gates and walls. There was a lady outside tending the flowers.

Before I could talk to the lady another woman came out and berated her a bunch and she went back insider after her. Very Cinderella and evil step-mother situation there.

The screen after has the dilapidated ferry. And a boy swimming in the water who tells Alexander to come on down. He claims he can show Alexander the way to the other islands.

Surely there's nothing suspicious here and we've had no bad experiences with the water already. What could go wrong? Obviously I jumped in after.

Yeah, it goes about as well as expected. Alexander drowns.

Reload! The boy keeps nagging you to come in but if you wait just a little he'll disappear in time.

Nothing to worry about there I'm sure. Ferry time!

The ferryman is willing to talk and invites Alexander inside. We learn a little more about the seeming weirdness of this place, though he doesn't much believe some of the wilder stories. He speaks fondly of Cassima and her mother Queen Allaria and how he used to take them to the other islands to help people. The King and Queen served their people. Then things got bad between the islands and the vizier shut down travel. Even if he wanted to travel now the ferry isn't seaworthy anymore. However, there is word of a map that may help that the pawn shop owner may know something of... He also let me take his old rabbit's foot and with that I left.

I stopped in at the book shop again and this time the robed man was gone, but a newcomer was there.

He wouldn't talk at first until showing Alexander's insignia ring and he recognizes the name thanks to Cassima telling him of a Prince Alexander of Daventry. He's the clown to the royal court and had seen her briefly when she returned. Unfortunately, Cassima's parents, Queen Allaria and King Caliphim, died a few weeks before her return. They say it was due to heartbreak and he's afraid she's blaming herself. She's sequestered in mourning, an apparently outdated tradition that isn't required, but the vizier says she insisted out of respect. He doesn't trust the vizier and is only staying at the castle to keep an ear to the ground. He wishes he could get a message to Cassima, but the only way he knows to do so would be through her pet nightingale, Sing Sing, but he doesn't know where she is, so he can only wait. He'll try to come back here in the future so we can talk more.

We have information and a contact!

With that I carried on to the pawn shoppe where the robed man was also. He still wouldn't talk.

The shop keeper indeed has a magic map that will enable one to teleport to the other islands as long as the user is near the sea. He would normally want a magic item in return, but with business bad due to the islands being closed off to each other, he's willing to simply take something valuable instead. Alexander offers his insignia ring :(.

It's enough, but the shop keeper does offer to keep it for him for a few days, so that if he finds something else valuable he can get his ring back.

After the exchange the robed man darted forward and snatched a mint and ate it. Then he started wobbling and acting drunk, staggered out.

Leading me to a "Seconds later, in the castle..." and a scene elsewhere!

The Master here gets mad at him for eating mint and had told him to stop that. With some effort he gets the information out of this fellow, who's name is Shamir, that Prince Alexander of Daventry is here. He knows that's the man Cassima met at Mordack's castle, so he knows of that, hmm. And that Alexander found a magic "smap". He's not happy; he thought he'd taken care of the only mode of travel. He orders Shamir to 'go to the other islands and tell them...' and the scenes fades.

Trouble is afoot!

But for now I have a magic smap, er, map, as well as a castle to go check out, which will be my tasks next time!

Points: 22/231 Deaths: 2 Time: 1:15

#king's quest vi #heir today gone tomorrow #KQVI #king's quest #KQVI_Log #adventure games #sierra

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september172013 · 1 year

Text

I posted 1,558 times in 2022

That's 1,027 more posts than 2021!

89 posts created (6%)

1,469 posts reblogged (94%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@september172013

@gametunes

@cardboard-aliens

@deco-devolution

@geekgemsspooksandtoons

I tagged 1,556 of my posts in 2022

#outlast - 238 posts

#bioshock 2 - 226 posts

#bioshock - 211 posts

#miles upshur - 130 posts

#augustus sinclair - 94 posts

#not horror - 91 posts

#outlast 2 - 86 posts

#subject delta - 68 posts

#jack wynand - 66 posts

#doctor who - 61 posts

Longest Tag: 82 characters

#a computer demon possesses you completely as soon as you’re shot up by a swat team

My Top Posts in 2022:

The struggles of trying to play Augustus Sinclair in Akinator:

Akinator: Is your character bad?

Me:

34 notes - Posted July 29, 2022

Do you think that in the present day in the Bioshock universe, Kevin Perjurer makes Defunctland videos about Andrew Ryan?

Also, new headcanon: in this case, the series Easter eggs video on Yesterworld doesn’t exist, but the Inside a Mind video on the Bioshock 2 marketing ARG does (but makes no mention to the fact that that it’s an ARG because it’s canon to that universe).

39 notes - Posted June 3, 2022

I’m sorry, but the lighting here makes it look like this is saying “Lamp is the Way.”

46 notes - Posted May 11, 2022

OK, with Outlast Trials coming out this year, I gotta get this out of the way before I forget:

All the trailers out (and the Steam description) confirmed this is a prequel about Murkoff’s collab with the CIA during MKUltra. Whether or not this will actually be a Walrider origin story is yet to be seen, but it’d be nice.

I’m pretty sure in the second Trials BTS video, they mentioned Coyle is gonna do some gross sexual shit. (I’m having flashbacks to Eddie Gluskin and all the off-screen stuff from Knoth and Loutermilch.)

Stuff I’m hoping to see:

Shawn Baichoo returning as one of the player characters.

Marcel Jeannin coming back to voice a younger Dr. Wernicke, even if it’s a late-game surprise cameo.

Recurring voice actors like Andreas Apergis, Carlo Mestroni, and Graham Cuthberson coming back, even if they voice background characters.

A weirdly sexual face lick a la Andrew the Scientist or Val.

Someone already said it, but someone gets crucified.

Going back to the MKUltra stuff, are we gonna get more references to the Mount Massive notes about Misses Pearce and Jackson? Probably not, but it’d be a nice throwback.

I was gonna say I wanted to see another moment where we get separated from our video camera like Miles and Blake did, but based on all the promo images… since the cameras are gonna be implanted into the player characters, that would be hard. So maybe the parts where the characters get separated would be a take on that?

In part 2 of the anniversary Q&A, JT Petty vaguely mentioned that the Murkoff Account comics leading up to Outlast 2 were the first set of prequel comics, so… Outlast Trials prequel comics when?

57 notes - Posted January 10, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

95 notes - Posted February 2, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#year in review #not horror

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hellishrebukesystem · 2 years

Text

SYSTEM UPDATE--09/02/22 [At Front David, Hughie, and Crow]

Things have been better lately--I (David) am happy to report. We have been trying (as a system together) to maintain better self-care. We know it sounds cheesy--lord knows we do--but somethings they tell you over and over again on the internet are true. Not everything--but somethings.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------For Example: We have tried to commit to drinking at least a liter of water everyday--which, I know, is way below the average needed of 64 fl. oz. But we do drink other stuff during the day, like tea, and soda and stuff--so we are pretty hydrate (which is actually better than a few weeks ago in which we were pretty much drinking one monster a day and single 20 oz coke; which if you are following along at home, is not enough liquids) but just having like half of our fluid intact be water (w/electrolytes--crazy no? That makes a huge difference too)

And we have been trying to go to bed no later than ten thirty (although side note to Graham here--not everyone is as strict as me about it...)

And we have been eating less take-out; just to watch our sodium levels which can sneak up on us quite quickly if we only eat processed and hyperpalatable food--yah yah and yah.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ We have also been trying to keep the productivity monster in check--lots of pressure as to whether or not to keep pushing through bad days and through burn out and through physical and mental pain. We just have to be patient with ourselves--I have to say the mental part of self-care, seems a helluva of a lot harder than just remembering to drink water (which, believe as easy as that sounds, is actually kinda hard unless you set up a whole new system of you drinking and eating schedule--ya know?)

Patience is a big key tho in this life revamp. We have been in a funk and we are trying to get our lives back into shape.

Emotionally, our therapist says we are in a good place and she has reminded us two sessions in a row that we are making good progress. I'm glad to hear it. But sometimes I don't feel that way.

I guess that's why it is good to have an outside view of our lives and problems.

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

I know one thing driving Hughie crazy is the mess in our room--we gotta get that cleaned up again.

I know our disorganization messes with attitudes and comfort levels inside the system. I don't want to be holding up everyone's happiness but sometimes it just seems so damned hard to pick up even a little bit or even organize a little thing.

It just seems like a mountain and I'm like the size of ant.

It's not really so very dirty--we've certainly had it in worse shape, but it is causing tension and frustration in our system because our TikTok filming has stopped and our enjoyment of our space and a lot of our hobbies have been taken out of commission because of clutter taking over our thinking, writing, and filming space.

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

Another thing on our mind, we are worried about our old cat, man--she's like fifteen and really slowing down. I'm not ready for her to go--I don't think any of us are; but we are trying to prepare ourselves for it. Because, we must face this, loss and grief are a part of life and will continue to come at us--death has knocked us through several loops these couple of years--my aunt and uncle's deaths, my grandma's death--these have really been wearing on my mind for eight years now. I have to learn to let go--we all do. We all must accept that things die and that someday we will too.

But Ms. Kitty is a stark reminder of that.

And I'm not ready for another one. But I will steel myself and the system to deal with the break coming after that. I didn't mean end so darkly, I am so sorry.

Remember the sun shines after the rain. Remember that you are loved and that you can love people that are gone. Your love and memories don't have to leave--even if life is finite--love is not.

Tell the people you can you love them while you can. Remember to be kind and a light for those you can. Be kind above all else.

Thanks for reading,

David.

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hotwings0203 · 3 years

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as ur irl bestie i am cashing in my favor and am asking- no begging for a dilf damon fic pls <3

😑fine fineee I guess I can take a quick break from writing BNHA stuff for you🙄

CW: NSFW, Damon Albarn being an a-hole, manipulation, gaslighting, language minor stuff like that

The studio itself was pretty spacious, you couldn't lie. As much as you loathed to give this cursed group any more credit, you were hard-pressed to remember the last time you´d been called into such a professional recording booth. You were used to dingy atmospheres, crumbling walls, stained carpet, and even cramped garages at times. It felt like your years of meticulously swaying your hand back and forth on the rosin and tuning your strings until they damn near popped were slowly going down the drain, lost in spaces of screaming adolescent boys and shady market agents. The streets of London were unforgiving for a young musician like you, no room to turn to since others were exactly in the same position as you.

It was by pure coincidence that the day you had played for a local cafe for a small commission, Graham fucking Coxon was sitting in the back of the run-down joint, sipping a murky glass of Bourbon.

You didn't notice him at first, of course. You had simply let the music in your mind travel from your head down to your arms, and allowed it to move through your fingertips to your bow. The serene melody that sang through the air had turned his head to face you, the shitty drink in his hand stopped halfway to his mouth.

Your solo was only a couple of minutes, but the second you were done and packing your bags to head out, the brunette made a beeline for you, blocking your exit.

¨Uh, can I help you?¨ You cock your head and shift your violin case.

¨Yes, you can actually. Listen, I know this is gonna sound a bit straightforward, but I really liked your piece. Did you compose it yourself?¨ He sounds quiet and sounds nervous, with him barely looking you in the eyes.

¨Yeah, I did!¨ You can´t help but beam-it took you several days just to perfect a few meager lines, but in the end you were content with the piece.

¨Wow...that's serious talent right there,¨ He opens the door for you, and you nod before you head out, him trailing behind you as he leaves with you.

¨You make a good amount of money doing small jobs like this?¨ His voice is nasally and low, but with a slightly higher pitch than your typical London accent.

At this, you squint your eyes a bit and turn your head at him. It was nice of him to be interested in your work, but for someone you don't personally know, the idea of talking about your small gigs that merited little to no money was not something you were fond of.

He senses your hesitancy and immediately withdraws. ¨I´m sorry, that was probably rude of me to be so blunt about it. Actually, I don´t think I´ve properly introduced myself.¨ He stops to face you, and you do the same.

¨I´m Graham Coxon. You may or may not have heard of me, but I can assure you that I too enjoy music, as an understatement.¨ He extends a calloused hand and smiles a little bit, adjusting the blocky glasses on his face.

Graham...Coxon? Graham as in....oh, holy shit.

¨No way.¨

¨Er...unfortunately, yes way.¨ His soft voice lilts as he holds back a laugh, and you gape at him.

¨Oh my god!¨ You drop your violin case in the excitement of eagerly returning his handshake. ¨You-you're from Blur! I know you!¨

¨Was from Blur, and ´careful now, don´t wanna ruin your instrument. But listen, I´m kind of in a bind here so I´ll get to the chase. We´re working on a few chords here and there back at the studio, and I´ve been on the lookout for a while for someone who fits our tune. ´Thing is, the deadline for submitting our song is comin´ up fast, so we only have a couple weeks left.¨

You raise your eyebrows, heart pounding in your chest as you listen to his proposition.

¨So I´m thinking, you sound pretty good, it's exactly what we need to fill in our bridge. I´d love it if you came in and played a tune for us. If we like you and you´re cool with it, you could feature on our song.¨

It feels surreal. Were you hearing right? Graham Coxon from Blur asking you to play on his song? This had to be a prank.

¨Ẅait, but you've only heard me once, what if my sound doesn't match what you're actually looking for?¨ You stammer, palms clammy as you wipe them off on your trousers.

¨Well, that's what a rehearsal session is for, lovely,¨ He chuckles nervously and slides his slightly foggy glasses up his nose. ¨So, you wanna give it a go?¨

You think for a moment, biting your lower lip. There wasn't exactly anything stopping you now, was there? I mean, sure, the prospect of playing in front of one of UK's most famous bands was daunting, but this was your chance to finally be recognized!

Taking a deep breath, you pick up your fallen case and nod. ¨Alright, I´m in. When you do wanna meet up?¨

Graham visibility deflates in relief, letting out a shaky exhale. ¨Great. I'll text you the time and place, yeah? The boys and I´ve gotta get a few more things set up, so we´ll be in contact soon.¨

You both exchange numbers, your phone tingling in your hand long after you bid farewell and drive home in a buzz.

When you finally get home to your apartment, you throw your keys onto the counter and flop down onto the mattress. What a fucking day.

So many thoughts bounce around in your addled head. You want to do well, but obviously you don't have their kind of experience in the industry. Should you play more in tune with their song, or continue with your own sound? An idea pops into your head amidst your lunch, a few hours later. Why not just do some more research on the band themselves? Then you'd know exactly what kind of music they're looking for.

The boys and I´ve gotta get a few more things set up.

Oh yeah, who else was in the band? It's not like you didn't know who Blur was at their peak, but you paid more attention to their music rather than their faces. Truthfully, you never really basked in tabloids and newspapers purring about the next big scandal, or the top dogs of Britain´s industry when that stuff was relevant.

You abandon your pathetic sandwich and make your way to your laptop, sliding into a chair and getting down to business. After a few quick searches, you pull up a couple tabs around the name Blur.

Graham Coxon- Recovering alcoholic. Big fight with Damon Albarn.

Alex James- Cute boy turned conservative. Classic case.

Dave Rowntree- Mainly untouched. Became a successful lawyer. Good for him.

Damon Albarn- A fucking mess.

Puffing up your cheeks and putting your hands behind your head, you lean back in your chair. Good god, this man is a wreck. Headlines from decades ago swim in and out of your eyes, loud, obnoxious neon prints of Justine and Damon broken up again? Suede claps back!, or Will the Blur Brothers ever come back to each other? Find out first-hand from Coxon himself!, and worst of all, Albarn relapses again, Damon Albarn from Blur goes head-to-head with Liam and Noel-news flash, the brothers win!

You think you see something about him and a potential wife and child, and that's when you decide it's time to sleep.

After all, there's no point in getting caught up in any of their backstories.You were just there to play a solo and get out. Nosing around in their lives was more trouble than what it was worth, anyways.

Which is exactly what you kept trying to tell yourself as you walked into the modern studio two weeks later, its grey soundproof walls and white floor screaming fancy and rich to you. And fancy and rich didn't come without grit and experience, which you had none of. As if to emphasize your inexperience, you went into the wrong halls twice before you exasperatedly checked your messages with Graham and saw that no, it wasn´t room 311, it was room 113.

Finally, finally, you came across your designated room. The mahogany door was closed, and you placed a hand on the silver knob. You could faintly hear the sounds of a guitar being played from the inside, and it was curiosity above everything else that compelled you to push it open.

From behind the clear window that separated the booth from the recording area, you see them. Graham, Damon, and other men you don't recognize are all in the midst of the song, the same song Graham had texted you the PDF of for the violin notes. You sheepishly take a few steps forward and clear your throat to catch the attention of a bald man leaning back against his chair right in front of the glass. He turns around and you give a weak little wave, clutching your case in the other hand.

¨Hey, I´m here for-¨

¨-Yeah, yeah, Graham told me all about you. Go on ahead and join in, they just started.¨ He pulls a toothpick out from between his lips and gestures to the door of the divider.

You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you make your way through the second door, and the second you step inside meekly, Damon and Graham´s eyes are on you.

Graham continues to play the guitar, only lighting up his eyes and giving you an encouraging nod when you step in, and the other two men on bass and saxophone also give a quick smile in greeting. And Damon…well.

Damon barely acknowledges you.

He continues to sing and stare straight ahead at the wall in front of him as if there's an interesting scene being played out on the grey paint.

You´re unsure of whether to catch his attention and give a proper greeting, but you decide not to as it would interfere with the song. So instead, you quickly grab a nearby chair and stand and set up your rosin and papers.

Your timing is perfect; the bridge is about to come up. Just to be certain, you look up from your poised position and catch the eyes of most everyone except for Damon´s. They all give you a quick thumbs up or an expectant look for your confirmation of playing.

And then, it comes. Damon stops singing, and your cue to sweep your bow across the horse hairs of your strings comes.

Melodious, whole, fulfilling, it was. Graham´s guitar chords harmonized with the tones of your violin, and music that you´ve never dreamed of creating was made by your hands exceptionally.

Everyone was in awe of your raw talent, from the way their gazes were rapt onto your bow, moving back and forth,staying still in some highs and whittling away at the lows. You even thought you saw the producer from inside the booth turn his head towards you from the corner of your eye, but you couldn´ be sure.

Everyone except Damon Albarn.

The song ended a minute later with the signal of a fading out bass, and then there was silence.

¨Right on with that tune.. ´Thought we'd be fucked ova´ if we didn't find someone to take that melody.¨ The bassist with long shaggy hair grinned and you returned one back.

¨Yeah, I was kind of hesitant when Graham ´ere told us he found one to take this position on, but I'm pleased.¨ The saxophone player scratched his chin and hummed his agreement. You felt relief.

Until he spoke.

¨Is this your first time playing?¨

You look incredulously over at him, looking straight on at his face. Sandy hair, lines on his cheeks, slight scruff around his chin, he looked older than his online pictures.

¨Uhh, no?¨ You laugh a little, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice. ¨If I was, I doubt Graham would think I´m good enough to play with you guys.¨

¨I don't think Graham is the only one who needs to think that.¨ Everyone shifts uncomfortably, looking nervously from Damon to you, and Graham tugs his collar as if the temperature had gone up.

But nonetheless, you don't back down.

¨Oh yeah? How so?¨

¨You played the G-string too high,¨ He deadpans, looking utterly bored amidst oceanic hues.

¨What?¨ You flip your music pages a couple of times until you find the page where you played that part. ¨No I didn´t, I was right on tune-do you even know how to play the violin?¨

¨No,¨ he smirks, and with your blood boiling steadily you open your mouth to argue, but thankfully Graham butts in.

¨Damon, don´t be a prick, she played fine. Unlike you, who fucked up on the 5th verse.¨

The man in question lazily stretches his arms above his head, causing his white tee to rise a few inches over his belly button. You can´t help but glance at the skin-it's smooth, cleanly chiseled with part of his v-line showing, a happy trail rising from the juncture.

¨Oi, sweetheart, eyes up here.¨

You snap your gaze back to his smug face, cheeks burning.

¨I didn´t-¨

¨Sure you didn´t. Just like how I didn't mess up on the 5th verse, and how you didn't ruin the song with your shitty violin, yeah?¨ He simpers, and you almost rise out of your seat to snarl at him before Graham jumps in between you two, scolding a very inappropriately-grinning Damon.

You get up out of your chair and huff, shoving your belongings back into your bag as everyone else packs up, the men bickering and playfully throwing shit at each other.

The producer even congratulates you on your successful first day, and everyone cheers and pounds you on your back, your hair falling in your face and gracefully hiding your 120k watt smile.

Damon shoulders right past you, knocking your case right out of your hands. You grapple with it for a second before it hits the ground, and when it does you whip around and shoot him an icy glare.

He's not even looking at you, he's already out the door.

It's quiet for a moment.

¨Well, there he goes again being a dickhead. Classic Damon, you got.¨ The saxophone player points to the leaving blond and grins sheepishly at you.

¨What's his problem?¨ You ask in disgust, shaking your head as you join the rest of the boys leaving.

¨Uh, well...¨ Graham scratches the back of his head and avoids looking at you. ¨He's always been kind of like that, y´know, so don't take it too personally, but between just us four, his wife´s been on his arse for a bit about um...some...domestic affairs.¨ He finishes lamely, and the other two men guffaw at your raised eyebrow.

You don't have a chance to press further as to ask what domestic affairs, exactly because a loud clap of thunder shakes you all to your cores as you step outside.

¨Aw, come on!¨ You stamp your foot and hold out your hand for confirmation of the raindrops about to drop on you all. ¨I didn't know it was gonna rain today,¨ you grumble.

Graham squints up at the sky and wipes some droplets off his blurred glasses, covering his head with his jacket hood as he begins walking to the parking garage. ¨I´ll see you lot in about a week, yeah? Just keep practicing, good rehearsal we had today!¨ He waves his hand and dashes off.

¨Good job on your first day, Y/N. Fancy the weather on your walk back for us!¨ The sax and bass player bid farewell and also do a sprint to their respective cars, splashing through the puddles and sending muddy water on your pants.

¨Urgh!¨ You raise your hands to try and protect your bottoms but to no avail- London's sewage strikes again.

Sighing in defeat, you walk through the rain towards your car, succumbing to the grimy walk. Unfortunately you didn't think to use the parking garage due to high nerves when you first came in.

You walk for about 5 minutes, the rain drenching your hair and clothes and chilling you to your bones.

Could this day get any more annoying?

Oh, but you should´ve known that it could.

Because right at that moment, a black limo swerves right next to you on the sidewalk, sending a massive wave of gutter water right your way.

You swear loudly and jump back, barely managing to avoid the remnants of the sewage tsunami crossing your feet.

Looking up wildly at the offensive vehicle, you make a fist and flip the window off, your lip curled up into a snarl.

The obsidian glass rolls down.

¨Well that's not very nice, is it? Nasty weather we got going on right now, careful it doesn't get on your clothes.¨

Oh.

¨It's you,¨ you monotone, less than pleased to see his salacious grin at your predicament-which was being soaked to your undergarments in brown muddy water, your hair clinging to your face and your violin case lugging down towards the ground, its weight proving mutiny against you today of all days.

¨In the flesh,¨ Damon beams, and you scowl at his cheery attitude.

¨You almost drowned me, asshole,¨ You turn your nose up in scorn, and he chuckles in his baritone voice.

¨Nah, cant´ve love, I can't drive,¨ he clicks his tongue and jerks his thumb to the seat in front of him, where you assume his chauffeur is.

¨Oh, so it was under your orders that your poor driver practically waterboarded me?¨ ¨Well, yeah, I mean what else do you expect me to do when I see a pretty lady walking so harmlessly in the rain?¨ Your voice catches in your throat for a second from his words and the way his glacial eyes twinkle for a moment, but then he erupts in dry chuckles at your demeanor and you throttle your hesitancy at speaking.

¨Shut up, you're absolutely vile, y´know that?¨ ¨So I´ve been told, but to be honest sweetheart, I´d rather hear that in bed, where I´m used to hearing it. Now are you going to get in or shall I talk about my sexual prowess with you the rest of the afternoon?¨ He opens his door from the inside and mockingly winks at you.

You feign a gag, but still decide to jump in the spacious limo when a flash of lightning lights up the sky.

He scoots back to give you space to sit and adjust your violin case on the seats in front of you, but just as you´re about to close the door, he leans in right next to you and reaches behind you to pull it shut himself.

You´re caught still as he draws close, you´re extended hand frozen in midair as his arm against your back flexes and stiffens with it pulling the door. You can feel his breath against your neck as he exhales, can feel some of his hair tickling against your ear and cheek. You hold your breath, not daring to move lest you accidentally brush up against his proximity.

The loud slam of the door causes you to jump, and he laughs a little at that, signaling his driver to go.

You don't quite face him, your gaze down in your lap as his entire body is facing you, still stuck in its position when he was closing the car door.

¨Not nervous, are you?¨ He murmurs in your ear, and you can´t help it when your whole body shivers at feeling the rumble in his gravelly voice.

¨N-no, I´m not. Do you have to be so close?¨ You stammer, barely giving him a sideways glance which eggs him on, much to your displeasure.

¨Not really. But if you´re not nervous, then it shouldn't be a problem, right?¨ He says quietly and leans around to catch your eye.

Before you can lose your nerve and jump out of the car, you snap at him. ¨You just don´t quit, do you?¨

He finally relents and the side of his pink lips lift lazily as he stretches his knees out and practically manspreads across the expanse of three seats. ¨Nope. Not that you really were against it though, ´could feel your heart pounding a mile a minute sweetheart. Trust me, I´m used to making girls nervous, I would know.¨

You sneer at him. ¨Don´t call me sweetheart, and yeah, I was nervous about getting some disease-ridden prick like you getting close to me. God knows how many STD´s you've contracted from bedding some poor groupies.¨

¨Only one way to find out, right love?¨ He leans his head up to the car ceiling and lets his tousled golden hair flop back, his jawline accentuated by the cream-colored seats contrasting with his tan skin.

You catch yourself staring, and shake your head quickly.

¨You must´ve been more hopped up on heroine than I thought if you think I´d ever fuck a self-absorbed, narcissitic bastard like you.¨

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, but once they do your eyes widen and you clap a hand over your mouth in horror.

Damon lifts his head and slowly turns to face you, his mouth set in a thin line.

¨A self-absorbed, narcissistic bastard whose limo you're riding in, need I remind you, so I can´t be all that bad. ´Can't say I haven't heard any of that before love, but most girls who say that end up in my bed anyways.¨

You open your mouth to argue but he cuts you off.

¨Although, ´hopped up on heroin´ is a new one. Just exactly how much research have you done about me so far?¨

Your rebuttal dies in your throat. You were caught.

Your ears burn and your face flushes as you bite your lip in embarrassment. Maybe you went too far, and on top of that you let it slip that you knew about him beforehand.

But you refuse to kowtow in humiliation to this idiot, so you think quickly.

¨I doubt you´ve got your head that far up your ass to disregard how half the world was tuning into your personal life when Blur was big, Damon.¨

He looks unimpressed with your excuse, but before he can open his mouth to question you further, you hurry up with another save.

¨Also, where are we going? You never asked me where my car was.¨

Bingo His eyes brighten and he shouts at the driver, harping on about him being a brain-dead idiot for driving in circles the past 10 minutes.

What a save.

*******************

The moment you step into the booth next week, a drumstick is lobbed at you from seemingly nowhere. You yelp and hold your case up, blocking the weapon as it bounces off your makeshift shield. You bring the case down and shoot a glare towards the only man you know capable of acting so childishly at his grown age.

But he´s already scrolling through his phone, looking for a measure to start from.

¨You´re late.¨

¨Hardly,¨ you mutter, glancing at the clock on the wall. Two minutes past shouldn´t be an excuse for having a drumstick pick out your eye.

¨Good to see you again, Y/N,¨ Graham pipes up softly, sending you an apologetic glance from Damon to you and you stick out your tongue in faux annoyance.

The other two members of your group greet you as well, and you all begin practice. Notes begin harmonizing together, voice and sound coinciding to make music you´ve swayed your hips and nodded your head to on blue nights.

It´s a hot day, humidity clinging to your skin akin to the perspiration hanging off your forehead, and halfway through the song you decide to take off your sweater. You´re wearing a white tank top underneath, nothing too revealing save for the slight dip in the V-neck, but you couldn't care less about modesty at the moment when your fingers were literally slipping in their grasp on your sweat-slicked bow.

During a quick break in your part of the song, you slip off your sweater and fan yourself out. It feels good, but you feel a pair of eyes staring at you. Following the laser gaze, you turn your head to face Damon, but he´s nose-deep in the lyrics sheet, warbling about a broken love or friendship.

Huh, must´ve been imagining it.

Your solo comes up, and you prepare yourself for tackling the notes to your best ability, keeping up with Graham´s rapid guitar pace. Sweat continues to build on everyone´s vicinity when the rapid movement of arms waving around their own instrument causes more body heat to suffocate you all.

Miraculously, the song finishes, and you collapse in your seat like the rest of the men, panting and wiping slick off your foreheads. You reach for a bottle of water on the floor and unscrew the lid, grimacing at its lukewarm temperature but drinking it nonetheless.

For the second time, you have an unnerving feeling of being watched. This time, you whip your head to the side and catch him staring straight at you.

Damon´s face is flushed, his hair tousled, his rose colored glasses steamed up from the muggy aura in the room. His denim jacket is hanging off one shoulder, the rest of his torso covered with a sheer wife beater that accentuates his chiseled dad-body.

But he just stares you down, saying nothing. You frown at him a little bit and shift your body away from him, feeling vulnerable to his laser-gaze. His eyes darken, but Graham speaks, cutting him off from whatever he was about to say.

¨That was pretty good, you lot. Greg, Taz, hold off on the third beat of the fourth measure. We´ve gotta crescendo slightly-¨

¨Y/N, do you have a job?¨

Damon's voice cuts off Graham, and everyone falters as they look at him and then you in surprise.

¨I don´t know what you mean,¨ you respond coolly, knowing that whatever he was about to say wasn't good.

¨I mean, do you have a job? Because as far as I know, most people who work don't dress like whores at their job.¨

His eyes travel from your face down to your slight cleavage, and you sputter in rage as the rest of the boys shift uncomfortably.

¨Damon, for god's sake what´re you on about?¨ Graham asks wearily, taking his glasses off and rubbing his shiny neck.

¨I could ask you the same thing, actually. Because as far as I know, you've fucked enough women in your lifetime that one would think you could keep it in your pants for five minutes without acting like a twelve-year-old. Oh, but unless that´s too professional for you? I guess you´re not as serious about your work environment as you claim.¨ you laugh, and the sax player, Greg, snorts into his water bottle.

Damon sneers, ¨How could I forget, you actually have done your research about my life and sexual endeavors, what a cute little fangirl you are. If you wanted an autograph, you could've just asked, sweetheart.¨

¨Go fuck yourself,¨ you snap. ¨You´re all wearing wife-beaters anyways, what's the difference?¨

Damon starts again but Graham claps his hands loudly, startling you all.

¨Enough, both of you! What's gotten into you? Need I remind you that our song is due in less than two weeks? We need to finish this shit and get on with it. Stop acting like children.¨

You mumble under your breath and Damon shoots a dark look to his childhood friend, but the brunette doesn't back down, and continues to give advice on how to improve their song. You don´t look at Damon the rest of the session out of pure spite, but that doesn't stop him from shamelessly staring straight at you, right until it's time to leave.

The second Graham checks his watch and exclaims that it's a quarter past twelve already, you´re already bolting out of your seat and shoving your violin in its case, eager to get out of the disgustingly hot room.

Fortunately, this time you had the right idea to park in the garage like everyone else to avoid any other unwanted encounters, but unfortunately while it was nice to not be waterboarded on your walk, it wasn´t enough to stop said unwanted encounters from occurring.

Take right now, for instance.

As you stumble to your car in the blistering weather, your energy depletes faster and faster, causing you to be light headed. Practice was already tough enough in the sweltering heat, but after Damon's little scene you don't have any energy to even walk.

You crash blindly into your car, the metal of the doors burning your skin as you make contact with the handle. You hiss and jerk back, swaying slightly as your head fogs up. You can barely see, you feel like your clothes weigh a ton on you, so you slide down the vehicle and sit up against the tires, throwing your head back against the car and groaning. The idea of unlocking your doors and sitting in the seat where no doubt several temperatures higher will be settling on the dashboard and in the front row is nauseating.

Weather-2

You-0

You don't know the building well enough to know where a vending machine is, and even if you shot Graham a text, you don't have enough energy to wander around and scout for it.

And lo and behold, from a distance, a figure approaches. You squint as it draws nearer, and let out a laugh as the features come into familiarity.

The heat must be getting to you worse than you thought, because you´re certain you´re hallucinating Damon Albarn of all fucking people swaggering towards you, one hand holding his denim jacket over his shoulder, and a shit-eating grin on his face as he comes to stand in front of you.

All you can do is pant like a dog, looking up at him with unimpressed eyes.

¨Oi, G-String. ´Brought you some water.¨ he holds out a hand, and you choose to ignore the offensive nickname, insead noticing the large bottle in it, cold condensation covering its expanse.

Your eyes widen and you lick your lips unconsciously, holding your hands out for it.

Damon watches your tongue poke out and loses focus before snapping back to reality and moving his arm above your head. You pout and try to reach for it again, but he laughs and holds it even higher.

You glare and turn your head away from him, suddenly remembering how he embarrassed you earlier.

¨Go away. I don't want it anymore. You´re an asshole.¨ you mumble, perspiration hanging off your lip as you lick the salty beads away once again.

Damon´s eyes never leave your mouth as he listens to you and watches the pink appendage make its appearance again, and his mouth hangs open slightly unbeknownst to you for a second. You cross your arms and glare at the empty parking lot, silently willing him to go away.

He snaps back into focus yet again and shakes his head at you. ¨Oh come on love, I´m just teasing. You look like you´re about to die anyways, might as well make this your last meal-er, drink I mean.¨

¨I´m not taking anything from a complete dickhead who enjoys harassing women about their clothes. You know, for such a womanizer, you act pretty clueless about how comments like that would make a girl feel. No one else but you had an issue with it, or rather, had the audacity to point it out.¨ You cough at the last word, your dry throat and heavy head making it harder to talk.

He sighs and crouches down, balancing on the balls of his feet. He pops open the cap and gently turns your chin towards his face, much to your surprise. You´re genuinely too weak to protest, but when you look at his concerned face, eyebrows scrunched up and accentuating the lines on his forehead, you don't think you'd want to turn away even if you could.

He coaxes your agap mouth even more open by dragging a rough thumb down over your lips, and you obediently open your mouth, mesmerized by his eyes. His movements are soft and slow, as if you were a fidgety rabbit about to run off at the slightest touch. He scoots closer, right over in front of you as you simply gaze up at him, allowing him to pour cool water down your throat, quenching your bone-dry palate.

For a couple of seconds, water floods your mouth but all you can do is stare up at him. The light rays are reflecting off his back, casting a yellow glow around his silhouette and he almost looks like an angel. His hair is mussed as if he'd spent the day running his hands through the golden locks, and the scruff on his face peeks through soft-looking skin.

¨Swallow, or I'll really waterboard you this time,¨ he says lowly, chuckling a bit as he catches you staring so adamantly right in his face. You jerk back to consciousness and swallow hastily, accidentally choking on the gulp in your rush.

He laughs even more and lets go of your chin much to your disappointment as he adjusts himself to sit next to you, not seeming to mind the scorching car metal. The absence of his hand on your face leaves a cold, empty feeling in your heart despite the heated blush on your cheeks

¨You´ll burn yourself,¨ you mumble, lolling your head over to look at him.

But he looks straight ahead and shrugs casually. ¨Not any more than you.¨ You both sit in silence for a few minutes, occasionally sipping from the bottle he passes towards you and watching cars go by.

¨You didn't answer my question. Why do you harp on me in the studio? You act like a normal human being here.¨

Damon looks thoughtfully at a white sedan passing by, then speaks.

¨As I´m sure Graham has blabbed to you already, I´ve been having some...trouble with the missus, let's say.¨

You say nothing and raise a questioning eyebrow.

¨For the shitty attitude,¨ he mutters and swipes the bottle from your hand, taking a large swig himself.

¨And, like you said earlier, I am an asshole. Of course I´ll enjoy harassing pretty women over their revealing clothes,¨ he smirks and gives you a once over.

There it was again, pretty woman.

You scowl and get up to leave, but what he says stops you in your tracks.

¨Taz was lookin´ at you,¨ he says quietly, suddenly very interested in the now-empty bottle. ¨´Didn't like it, but I couldn't say anything to him. Graham likes him too much.¨

Huh. Maybe the pair of eyes you felt back in the room didn't only belong to Damon.

He cracks a small smile and looks up at you, his face adorably innocent and wide as he sheepishly admits, ¨I´m used to butting heads with blokes like him for women.¨

You jerk back up to your feet, brushing off any insinuation he was giving and pat his knee awkwardly, ignoring the fire now igniting once again in your chest.

¨Thanks for the water, I needed it. You might wanna move if you don't want to get run over by my car.¨ You reach down and pick up your case as Damon clambers to his feet.

He looks amused as you fumble for your keys, nervously turning the lock and sitting in the hot car, obviously eager to get away from his intimidating gaze.

¨I´ll see you next week, yeah?¨ You laugh breathlessly and roll your window down to call out to him.

He says nothing, but merely cocks his head at you, his eyes now obscured by the rose-colored glasses he puts over his eyes. He waves a little and watches as you drive away a little too fast.

But as it turns out, you don't see him next week.

******

It was just your luck that one of the cutest guys from your work asked you out on the very same week you had practice with the boys. You contemplated moving the date to another time, but...you deserved to have some fun time off too, right? It's not like it would make too much of a difference in your skill, anyways, you´ve gotten all the strings down and such.

So, you decide to go on this date. It goes well, the dude was cute, dorky, lacked a little pizzazz but nothing a bottle of fancy red wine and a night of movies couldn´t coax out of him. It honestly wasn't anything too big, you exchanged numbers and made plans to meet up again soon. After parting ways, you threw yourself back into the regular regime of practicing your violin and meticulously listening to the booth recording every night, just so you could perfect your part to a T.

The day came where you had to go back to practice, and you were ready, veins pumping with determination to make these last few sessions the best you´ve played yet. You texted Graham that you´d be there soon, and he gave you a thumbs up in return. When you finally arrived in front of the room, you were 10 minutes late. The boys were already playing, by the sound of the percussion booming outside the door. You grimace and take a deep breath, turning the handle in and hurrying inside the booth.

No one really spared a glance at you, so you assumed you were okay in terms of punctuality. You opened your case and started strumming your strings, counting the measures and beats until it was your turn. Damon´s voice rang out, melodious and airy as ever, dropping octaves and floating on soprano tones. Your bow moved across his words, accenting his tones and adding emphasis to his sorrowful song. And then, after a couple of minutes, it was done.

¨Alright you lot, pretty good for today. ´Specially you, Y/N, you caught up pretty quick, I expected you to slack behind but I'm actually impressed.¨ Graham flashed you a nervous grin and you beamed back at him in return.

¨Yeah, speaking of, why were you gone last week? I expected someone who makes below the poverty line would actually want to work for their money,¨ Damon chuckles a little meanly.

You feel your smile drop a smidge.

¨Well actually Damon, not that it's any of your business, but I went on a date.¨ You smirk at him, enjoying the way his mouth opens slightly and moves silently.

But he regroups quickly and glares at you. ¨None of my business? The deadline is only a few days away, and you´re whoring yourself out and going on dates? I guess you´re not as professional as Graham thought.¨

Everyone shifts uncomfortably, and blood rushes to your face, anger clouding your mind. Why was he being like this? He was fine the last time you saw him, you actually thought maybe he was going to change the way he addressed you.

Graham speaks up. ¨Damon. You´re overreacting man, I gave her the okay, and she played fine today. No harm done, seriously, there's no need for that kind of language towards her.¨

¨Actually, there absolutely is a need. If I knew you were going to invite a prostitute as our sub-in then I would´ve never agreed to have her here. Didn´t know you were so low on money Y/N, I would´ve spared you a couple pounds.¨ He sneers.

¨Damon!¨

You laugh bitterly and rise to your feet. ¨Oh that's rich, coming from the man who fucked half the continent just because he couldn't get over one girl. No wonder every real woman in your life including your wife wants to leave, nothing is ever good enough for you. Except heroin maybe.¨

The words leave your mouth before you can take them back, and there's a pin drop silence as if a bomb had been dropped. In a way, it kind of did.

Damo glares at you. Everyone is holding your breath, including you.

¨Get out.¨

¨Hey,-¨ Taz tries to gently interject but Damon throws the mic at him.

¨I said get the fuck out. You´re not practicing with us anymore, you can pack your shit and leave.¨

Tears brim at the corners of your eyes, and you choke out a small ¨Fine.¨

You hear Graham berating him behind you as you fly through the door, telling him that they need you, it's too late to change people, but the words jumble in your ears as the door slams shut. You don't hear what Damon says, if he even says anything, and you aren't interested in his comebacks right now.

It's only when you leave the car, tears streaming down your face in rage and embarrassment that you groan to yourself, your hands reaching an empty seat with one foot out the door-

You forgot your violin case.

************

It's nighttime.

The crickets chirp as you creep silently through the parking garage, the soft thud of your shoes echoing a lot louder than you wanted in the empty lot. The studio itself wasn't closed, but you were sure Damon must have informed the manager there not to let an ex-musician like you back in there.

Wearing a black hoodie and black pants was a smart move- you blended in with the shadows well. The doors weren't locked, and you hiss out a small ¨yesss¨ as you slip inside the mostly dark building. Needless to say, you were proud of yourself for navigating through the windings pitch-black hallways to your old booth.

Testing the handle lightly, you sigh out in relief when that too gives way. Unfortunately though, the second the door shuts behind you, you immediately stumble forward and fall.

The room is dark, darker than the other hallways so you can barely see your hands. The only source of light you´re granted is the dim red bulb on top of the booth door. And speaking of, that's exactly where you need to go...which proves to be harder when you keep bumping into random shit and cursing when you feel potential bruises forming on your shins.

Miraculously you stagger through the next door towards where you last sat, and blindly feel around the floor and chairs for your violin case. You feel nothing there, but panic starts settling in your heart when you can't find it.

¨Looking for something?¨

You scream and lurch backwards, knocking your head into some kind of stand. Groaning, you rub your head and hold a hand on your racing heart as you squint into the dim red room, placing the voice to the person.

¨D-Damon?¨

¨In the flesh sweetheart. ´Knew you'd come back for this, s´just my luck I came back to get it tonight so I could give it to you personally in case you wanted to be stubborn. But this is even better than I could´ve hoped.¨

You make out his silhouette in the obsidian abyss in front of you. He's sitting with knees spread on a chair, a few feet in front of you as he leans his head back on the wall. Your precious violin case is being held hostage in his arms, and it's the absolute love you have for the brittle instrument that propels you to your feet and moves you to get the hell out instead of interrogating him.

¨What, so you were just here the whole time listening to me falling around like an idiot?” You laugh incredulously, and you see the area of his shoulders move up and down.

¨Was pretty funny to watch, honestly. You sound cute when you curse.¨ He stands up to his fullest height now, the red light bouncing off his back, giving him a sort of demonic halo.

You knew it was actually time to leave when you felt those stupid butterflies in your stomach rise up again.

¨Right, well, I´ll be on my way then. Good luck with your song and whatever, I´ll just take the case...¨ You trail off as your extended hand is left in midair, no violin case reaching it.

He cocks his head at you. ¨Why are you in such a rush to leave?¨

You can´t help the scoff that escapes you.

¨Are you serious? You were such an absolute dickhead to me this afternoon, you said all sorts of horrible things to me, and you even fired me for Christ's sake! I want nothing to do with you, so could you please give me my case back so I can go?¨

He's silent for a moment before answering. ¨Are you done yet?¨

It isn´t just the light that's making you see red now.

¨Fuck you, honestly.¨ You whirl around and stomp towards where you guess the door is, ignoring the clatter behind you and bingo you locate the handle, but as soon as you turn it-

A hand reaches from behind you and pulls the ajar door shut.

¨Don´t go. I´m sorry.¨

You´re absolutely still as you feel him towering over you, his arm dangerously close to your midriff as his hand remains on the knob.

His voice is low, and you can feel him breathe against your neck, mere inches away. You can´t help the involuntary shiver that passes through you, and he feels it too, inhaling deeply when he gets close to your ear.

¨You smell so good.¨

¨Leave me alone, Damon,¨ you whisper, your voice catching in your throat from the overwhelming onslaught of emotions passing through you.

He breaths in and slowly lets his hand rest on your side.

¨I can't do that. You know why. You have to have known by now.¨

You tremble in his touch, yet allow his hands to wander down to your hip, the other coming around in a sort of hug to pull you closer to him.

¨We can´t.¨

¨Sure we can.¨

You can feel his erection bumping against your ass.

¨You´re not worth this.¨

¨I´ll make myself worth it.¨

And as soon as he latches onto the back of your neck, you´re like putty in his hands, a moaning mess as he sucks galaxy-colored hickies on your skin. You can feel yourself grow wetter as he shoves his hands up your shirt and teasingly pulls down the bridge of your bra, letting the weight of your tits fill up his hands appreciatively. He starts rolling your hardened buds in between his skilled calloused fingers, and you whine and throw your head back when you feel him rut against your ass, panting raggedly in your ear.

You rub your thighs together, desperate for some form of friction as he squeezes your tits, and then letting one hand ghost across the expanse of your stomach, down to brush against the rim of your panties. Damon chuckles meanly in your ear when you buck against the stilled hand over your mound.

¨You want this?¨ He lightly nips your ear. He smells like old spice and sandalwood.

You nod desperately, frustrated with him not giving you his thick fingers already.

But it's not enough for him. ¨No no, pretty girl, use your words now. I´ve barely touched you yet and you´re already moaning like a wanton little slut for me? And here I was thinking you weren't that easy.¨

You stop jerking your hips and blood rushes to your face at his insulting words. You try to move out of his grip, huffing and regretting the whole thing but he outright laughs now and spins you around, tugging you forward until your chest is slotted against his. You pout at him and look away, but he's quick to grasp your chin and pull you in for a rough yet sensual kiss.

Pushing you backwards against the wall, he deepens the lip-lock, tracing his tongue over your lips, nipping at the soft flesh and darkening his eyes when you whimper and look up at him.

He knows what he´s fucking doing when he again drops his hand under your pants and over your panties, his other palm wound up firmly through your hair. He pulls your head back and lets you breathe for a second from his kiss of death before he speaks again.

¨I didn't hear an answer, slut. Do you want this?¨ He leans forward until his nose brushes against your neck, flicking his tongue out to taste your saccharine flesh.

You tremble against his firm body when he pushes his pelvis against you, letting you feel how hard he is for you.

It doesn't matter anymore. Maybe he was right, maybe you were just an easy slut putting up a facade for him, but when his clothes erection grinds up against your pussy you can't care less.

¨Y-yes, yes, ´want you, please,¨ you pant, frantically gripping the back of his cropped hair as his head descends to mark your neck again.

¨What a good girl,¨ he whispers, finally allowing his digits to oh-so-slowly trace over your mound, pressing down harder when you jerk against him. He finds your wet clit and flicks it a few times, snickering when you gasp and moan. Your body writhes in place but he holds you literally between a rock-or, wall- and a hard place, preventing you from scampering off.

He drums his fingers against your folds, paying no attention to the way you grip his head tighter against you, silently begging him to go further.

But he relents eventually and retires from just pushing and prodding your folds, allowing his slicked fingers to slowly dive into your drooling hole. You whimper and bite back a string of curses when you feel him fill you completely, scraping against your walls for that one special spot.

His mouth moves off your neck and he rises to face you, a stupid smug grin on his wet lips, his eyelids lowered and trained on you. You flush at his lustful expression and gently push his head away, not wanting to accept his victory yet.

¨My fingers are literally fucking you right now, and you still won´t let me look at you? What, too embarrassed you couldn't continue being a stone-cold bitch for long?¨

You open your mouth to snap back but right at that moment he curls his fingers and grazes your G-spot, simultaneously grounding his wet palm against your clit.

With a loud gasp and the sluttiest moan you´ve ever made, you cum hard, your mouth open in a silent scream and your tongue hanging out like a bitch in heat as you do so. You fall forward against him.

You don't even need to look up to know that he has a shit-eating grin on his face.

¨What was that sweetheart? Sorry, ´couldn't hear you over those slutty moans. I think even the pornstars I´ve been with would give you a standing ovation if they heard what you just sounded like.¨

Your words are slurred as you curse nonsense at him, yet you´re still gripping his forearms to keep a hold on yourself. Your ears are ringing and you see spots as you come down from your climax, and surprisingly enough, Damon holds you close and doesn't let you slip down to the ground as you expected to when your knees start to give out.

Instead, he lifts you up quite easily and carries you over to a table in the corner of the room. You don´t know how he even navigates his way through the dimly lit room, but you suppose after almost half a lifetime in studios he knows his way around.

You offer no resistance as he sets you down gently and begins to lift your shirt off of your body. You manage to lift your arms weakly up in the air for easier access to stripping, but when he starts to kneel down to take your pants off you stop his hands at your knees and look at him with scrunched eyebrows.

He stops and looks up at you. His eyes aren't so darkened anymore, they´re wide and imploring, probably noticing your hesitation.

¨Damon, I...¨ You trail off as he maintains eye contact with you and slowly lowers his pursed lips to your calf, lightly pecking his way up to your knees and ensuring that you´re watching his every move.

Your breathing increases again as his pink appendage darts out, his saliva cooling on your exposed thighs. He sucks on the plush skin and turns his head upwards to face you.

You want to run your hands through his hair.

¨You have a wife,¨ You breathe.

¨Not for tonight I don´t.¨

Your voice gets caught in your throat at that. He positions his hands at the side of your knees, fingers curling around the hem of your pants in a second attempt.

¨Let me make you feel good, love.¨

His answer is in the form of your hand reaching for his collar and pulling him up into a standing position until he towers over your seated form, once again breath stolen in a heated kiss.

Damon fumbles with his zipper as you shove your pants off, fully ready for him now, your dampened panties solid evidence of your need for him.

He pulls his cock out and it bounces out, slapping up against his stomach.

You do a double take. The tabloids were right. He was absolutely huge.

It was disgusting almost, it was insulting really. How the fuck could he be that big? You lose count of how many inches he is when you start to get light headed, realizing with a jolt that he plans to put that monster inside you.

And fuck, why did it have to be so pretty too? Normally you wouldn´t use the word pretty to describe a dick, but fuck, that´s the only appropriate word that came to mind as you admired the white flesh as it mixed in with a dull pink flush turning into an angry shade of red as your eyes progressed up to his tip...which was soaked with precum, mind you.

He was neatly shaven everywhere, including his plush balls. No wonder he got to fuck half the continent.

Damon notices your gawking and smiles lazily, taking a fist around his prick and stroking lethargically up and down.

¨You gonna just stare at it all day or are you going to spread those cute legs for me?¨

Spoken like a true middle aged fuck-boyman.

You look up at him beseechingly, thoroughly intimidated by his length. He merely scoffs, winking at you when he wrenches your tightly closed knees apart.

It's almost like he falls into a trance when he presses his now-naked torso against your chest, when he slots himself between your legs and drags his tip through your sloppy folds and up onto your clit. His mouth falls open slightly and he moans when your juices coat his dick, making it slippery and easy to push the first few inches ever so slightly into your spasming cavern.

He can't help but want more, need more as he practically smothers his weight onto you, forcing you to lie back on the table and letting your legs dangle off the edge. He hunches over you and thrusts minutely into your pulsing folds, groaning when you whine and lace your fingers around his neck and tangle your legs around his back, dragging him impossibly close into you.

For a moment it´s just the sound of you two panting and moaning like inexperienced teenagers, and a zing of pride zips up your spine at the realization that Damon Albarn, one of the world's most renowned playboy is whining and humping against your pussy, reduced to nothing at your hands.

He takes your hands from around his neck and grips your wrists, forcing them above your head on the table. He leans down and kisses you, hard. You give him back the same energy when your hips move up and down along his length, pushing your inviting hole towards his eager and jumping dick.

¨Pretty little girl,¨ he murmurs against your lips, and you nip his bottom lip playfully in retaliation. He slowly starts to sink himself into you, and you practically purr at the feeling of his veiny member dragging against your sensitive walls until he stops.

You look at him questioningly, and blanch when you see the mischievous glint in his cobalt eyes.

¨I want you to count for me.¨

¨Count…?¨ You shake your head in confusion and he pulls out, making you groan in annoyance.

¨I want you to count every inch I put inside you. Unless your slutty mouth can't even do that? I'd be surprised if you couldn´t, you usually have so much shit to say.¨ His voice is low yet teasing, and a shiver passes through you when the rumble of his chest vibrates against your nipples.

¨F-fine, I´ll count.¨

He hums in approval and regroups, guiding his length into your awaiting pussy once again.

It´s almsot torture how slow he goes, and your toes curl at how vivid the sensation is at this pace.

You almost forget to do what he asks until he ducks his head down and teeths your bud.

¨Ah, fuck! One!¨ You yelp, writhing to get away from his lecherous gaze and hold on your poor tit.

He tuts and licks the swollen area until the pain subsides a bit, and then he continues to push.

¨T-two,¨ you moan and let your head fall back. It's unfair how tightly he´s holding your reins-you want him to plow you down, not take his sweet time in this punishment.

¨Damon, can´t you go any faster? Please, I want y-¨

¨-I didn't take you for a masochist, Y/N, but I´m happy to play around with these cute tits if you want to bitch more.¨

Your scowl is cut off when he suddenly shoves two more inches into you, and you mewl loudly at being filled so much.

¨Three! Four! Fuck, oh god, please,¨ you babble nonsense as he curses above you, his form shaking in an effort not to push all the way in.

¨Doing so good sweetheart, you´re almost halfway,¨ he smirks and you gape at him in disbelief.

Halfway?

Five, six, seven, eight, and nine go painfully slow, and by the time he´s fully sheathed inside you, plush balls pressed against your ass, you´re an incoherent, drooling mess.

Your hair is in your face, your cheeks are flushed, and your body bounces up and down as he begins to rock inside you, finally giving you what you want.

His name is chanted like an obscene prayer from your mouth as he grunts and shakes the table. Your legs are wobbly and unable to do anything except press him tighter against you to the point where he can barely move back. The skin of his stomach slaps against yours, his balls slap against the crevice of your ass, and your pussy practically sloshes with every stroke in and out.

He fists your hair with one hand and pulls your neck up to meet his searching lips, his other hand holds your wrists fast against the table. You want to touch him, you want to explore your body as he has conquered yours but he doesn't let you feel anything else apart from the rapid thrusts inside your battered body.

Damon switches positions and lifts the back of your knees up and pushes them forwards until they meet your chest. He lets his body weight rest on the back of your thighs as he pulls out and pushes back impossibly close inside you, closer than he did in missionary.

You sob with need as he plunges into you and reaches a higher spot than before, his tip grazing your cervix. He pounds into you, and you thrust your hips up to fuck back into him, calling out his name as if he were your god.

It´s a good thing the rooms are soundproof.

You feel your second climax comes when he paves way through your tight walls and batters your uterus. It doesn´t hurt so much as feel intense, and your choked moans become panting gasps when he brings a hand down to swirl his thumb over your aching clit.

¨You´re not going to meet with that prick from your work again, yeah? Say it. Say it if you want me to let you cum.¨ He could have been speaking an alien language for all you knew. Your poor addled brain didn't pick up anything except for the word ¨cum¨, and you were a goner.

¨Yes, yes, anything you say, anything you want, just please let me-¨

And oh he does.

It comes over you like a tidal wave, your mind going blank, your eyes seeing white as your legs shake from your earth-shattering orgasm. You feel like you´re going down a rollercoaster, and you never want to stop dropping.

Distantly, you hear him groan and say your name. You can feel pulsing in your filled walls, with what you assume is his ropes of cum. It feels like when you came, it practically squeezed all his cum out with your clenching.

He lets out a shaky breath and falls forward, his nose inches from yours, his breath puffing in your face.

Your eyes are glazed over, but you´ve never seen anything more clearly before.

Maybe Damon Albarn really was worth it.

#blur #damon x reader #damon albarn #damon albarn smut #britpop #90s damon #90s #smut #fluff #britpop smut #damon fluff #Damon Albarn #damon albarn x reader #Damon albarn smut #Damon albarn fanfic #Damon albarn fanfiction #blur fanfic #blur fanfiction

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firelxdykatara · 2 years

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Carmen Sandiego Netflix for the ask game!

AHHHH CARMEN SANDIEGO MY BELOVED, i miss them sobs-

blorbo (favorite): This is actually a really tough choice bc I love both my main babes SO much, but at the end of the day it's Carmen herself. I love everything about her, from her design to her origin story to her whole Robin Hood shtick. Plus we love a badass thief who really rocks the red.

scrunkly (my baby): GRAHAM CALLOWAY. He came so far, I love everything about his journey from villain to civilian to villain to hero (and going from best friends to enemies to strangers with a connection to friends to enemies back to friends to evil lovers to enemies to PLEASE COME BACK with carmen, just... I COULD SCREAM FOR A MILLION YEARS) and I would kill for him in a heartbeat.

scrimblo bimblo (underrated fave): Probably the Chief. I enjoyed her presence throughout the series a lot, and I've always enjoyed other incarnations of her as well, and she definitely doesn't get enough love.

glup shitto (obscure fave): Spinkick! He only showed up for a handful of episodes but he was voiced by Dante Basco and when I tell you I screamed lmfao.

poor little meow meow (problematic fave): Does Chase count???? He's gotta, definitely has the 'pathetic' part down and he spends the entire series getting dunked on but I love him anyway (and hey he pulled through in the end and I love him for it). Also carchase is a severely underrated ship, partly bc the dynamic would be hilarious but also it has the best shipname.

horse plinko (punching bag): Tigress. I'm sorry but it's just so funny to see her constantly getting her ass handed to her by Carmen, especially given how smug she is at all fucking times.

eeby deeby (superhell bound): Paper Star. She got on my nerves every scene she was in, if I could punt her straight to superhell I would smfh

ask me about blorbos from my shows!

#carmen sandiego #legendofnora #asked #ask game

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honesthammie · 3 years

Text

Prompt 39: Death wants you to be terrified. But the scariest thing is wanting death.

13th Doctor x female curvy reader

Warnings: mentions of suicidal thoughts, alcohol and drug abuse, domestic abuse, fat phobia

I'm sorry for this. Its really depressing and I've been hesitant on letting you guys see it but I kinda like how it's written. I've made the abuser gender neutral as females can also be abusive. I promise the next one will be much happier!

"Come on (y/n), you can make it! Just jump across and reach for my hand. I promise you won't fall." The Doctors voice echoes across the widening canyon. If you looked down, you would only see pitch black. You didn't know how long you'd fall. Maybe this would be the perfect time to just go for it. Its not like you'd matter, you're only slowing the team down as is.

They wouldn't even be in this mess if you didn't slip and hit the world shattering drill, turning it on full blast. Unfortunately, you smashed the button making it unable to turn it off. Of course the only way you'd be able to turn it off is to actually go towards it. Everyone in the room screamed at you and some raised their tentacles to attack you if the Doctor didn't step in front of you. You know the Doctor noticed you flinching and your eyes gloss over and noticed you bracing for the impact.

You learned over the years to just accept your fate. You can't run from anyone when you weighed this much. You couldn't hide either, which often left you to just accept what was coming and hope nothing broke. Bruises were always easy to cover and so were any cuts but broken bones, that was always on display and you'd have to break your number one rule: never lie. You hated lying. The truth always comes out anyway so why hide it? If you hide it, you get punished worse anyway so why bother?

If you jumped and actually went with the team, you'd get questioned about earlier and about hesitating at jumping. But if you fell, would the Doctor miss you? As much as you hated to admit it, you were absolutely in love with the adorable alien. Why did you hate to admit it? Because she was a goddess and you were a waste of skin and bones. You weren't skinny and you didn't fit in with the team at all. You were only here out of pity.

You remember when you first met the team. You were the only person alive when they searched underneath the hotel. Even the spiders didn't want you. You were at the hotel because you heard about killer spiders and you wanted an out. You could never do it or something would come up stopping you from ending all your misery. You were the complete opposite of the Doctor. She was so brave and said whatever she wanted and didn't really care for the consequences.

You focused on the Doctors sparkling eyes. Despite the situation, she still sparkled with hope and encouragement. She wasn't upset with you. You really wished she was. This would be such an easier decision to make. Your head was pounding and your heart was going faster than her two hearts. Did you even want her upset? You couldn't tell, your head was spinning wildly, one thought going to another without a chance to process the last one.

You had come to a clear decision. You ran back and let momentum do its thing as your feet left the muddy gravel. You felt so free as you glided in the air for a few seconds. It was the most beautiful feeling. No punishment, no tears before going to sleep and no terror of going back home. Just you and gravity.

Then with a clearer mind you regretted your choice. You were horrified. You weren't ready. It wasn't time yet. Graham can't lose you. He'd only recently lost his wife. He'd feel the same as you and that thought terrified you. He'd survived cancer and gained himself a new family. He can't be like you. Ryan needed him, wether he was willing to admit that or not.

Suddenly you panicked and last minute reached your hand out hoping you'd grab something. Anything. You felt a soft warm object and latched on for dear life. You were then lifted up and onto soil. You focused on your breathing a moment and waited for your heart to calm down. You looked up and saw what, or rather who, saved you. You shouldn't have been so surprised to see the Doctors worried face above yours. She gave you a questioning look, knowing the question, you nodded your head and she straightened herself and helped you up.

"That was great (n/n)! So brave of you! Let's go gang, we've gotta turn this drill off before it splits the planet in half!" She shouted as she ran forward, seemingly knowing the way. She didn't let go of your hand until you reached the drill about 10 minutes later. You couldn't help the blushthat formed on your cheeks. The Doctor quickly opened a panel on the side of the drill.

The drill was massive, bigger than the Eiffel Tower and that what was on surface level, it went down much deeper that it had reached halfway to the liquid nitrogen that ran in this cold planet where our magma centre would be. The drill itself was purple and spherical. The panel box was the size of a human head which was about the size of the civilisations sucker pads. Inside were 3 buttons and 1 lever. You needed to type the pattern that would gain the access to the drill and force stop. If it goes wrong, it speeds up rendering this planet uninhabitable.

You watched as the Doctor quickly typed the pattern in. Red,blue,red,red,red,blue,black,black,blue. That was the pattern she quickly pressed in and held the lever down for 10 seconds. Soon the drill came to a halt and the planet was peaceful once again. You all let out a sigh of relief as it stopped.

You made your way back to the chief of the race and explained that they should dismantle and never use that drill again unless they plan to empty the panet of everything it has within. He quickly agreed and the fam made their way back to the TARDIS.

As soon as tye TARDIS was parked on the edge of your solar system, you got into your comfy clothes ready to nap or maybe play a few games to slow your adrenaline until you were tired enough for a full nights rest. You played a few rounds of uno and some poker where you used some bits of metal instead of chips. Eventually everyone had left except you and the Doctor.

You made your way to the doors of the ship and settled down just watching the stars in front of you. If the sentient machine hadn't already been aware of your darkest thought, you would have jumped out there and been amongst them. Just floating eventually turning to nothing but bones drifting, maybe to never be found. All the sights you've seen and yet this is where you were the most impressed. This was your home, your galaxy and because of all the light pollution, you had never been fully aware of how many neighbours you had because you had been literally blind. This was only stuff captured and faked and now, it's forever in your mind.

You heard movement and a shuffle next you. You knew who it was because she was the only other person awake and you knew she was going to ask and not let it drop until you tell her truth. And you were going to give her it but that doesn't mean you were ready to do so but you had to, someone had to know. Maybe you wanted help or maybe just someone to listen and know everything making you mentally naked in front of them.

The Doctor waited a few moments. She was figuring out how to word it without sounding horrible. "Is everything alright at home?" She asked her voice laced with genuine concern. "Sorry if this sounds a bit abrupt but let me explain. You've been really weird lately. You hardly speak and when you its with as few words as possible, you keep going elsewhere mentally and Rassilion forbid anyone getting angry with you! I also noticed how you hesitated today when jumping and I saw your worry and panic when you jumped. I think I know but I can't help you if you don't at least tell me what is going on! And don't change the subject or anything, just answer me please. I lo-. I can't lose you too." Her voice raised a little as she panicked just speaking about it. Halfway through she grabbed both of your hands and continued her speech.

You looked deep into her eyes for any sign of a lie but there wasn't one. Just like at the canyon, her eyes showed nothing but love. Maybe you should tell her, just her. No Yaz, no Graham and no Ryan. Just you, The Doctor and the TARDIS. You looked away for a moment as you collected your thoughts. However, as you opened your mouth and tried to speak, you found no voice. You couldn't tell her about them. Lord knows what she's capable of. But you've been looking for an out for so damn long. Maybe this is it. She's your out, no death involved.

You walked towards a panel in the console and pushed your hands inside and focused. You focused on the worst time it happened. You concentrated on the fear and everything attached. You couldn't tell her, but you could show her. The TARDIS disappeared into the vortex but didn't seem so sure on landing. She was picking it all up, she felt everything you did and she did not like going. "Please baby girl, I need her to know. I need help but I can't tell her. She's my only out that doesn't involve death and that terrifies me! Please. I understand your hesitation but she needs to see." You spoke mentally to the sentient blue box. She made a sad sound as she gently landed in the moment.

The Doctor looked at you bewildered. Her eyes were wide and her mouth agape. You walked up to her and grabbed her hand reassuringly. You led her to the doors that separated her from your darkest secret. You took a deep breath and slowly opened the door.

You appeared to be in the basement of your house. You walked up the stairs and took her to a storage room where she could see it happen. You sat in silence for a few minutes only the sounds of breathing and your heartbeat could be heard.

You knew this day off by heart, it plagued your nightmares often. It all started to sweet and went sour so quickly. At this time you were currently on your way back from doing your weekly shop to Tescos making sure you didn't forget their vodka and gin on your way to pay. Thankfully, the shop was only 10 minuets away and you doubted that the TARDIS would make you wait longer than nessacary. Just as the Doctor opened her mouth to speak the door opened and in walked an 18 year old you.

You set the bags down and started sorting the items into their new places. The canned foods go in the cupboard and the meat goes into the fridge. There were loads of food and stuff to go through and place properly. After you placed the last can of baked beans into the cupboard, the door swung open, nearly breaking the door.

They came home from their dealers place early. They stunk of weed and alcohol and had a little white powder around their nose. They looked like they had a good time until they had to come home. It was their dealers birthday so he was having a brothel themed party meaning there were strippers, pole dancers and prostitutes as well. The dealer was a rich guy who practically ran this city. The cops couldn't do anything as he could always bail himself out of jail.

They looked you in your comfy clothes and scoffed. They looked angry. "Why aren't you in your normal clothes babes? I thought I told you to throw away all of that shit. Come on now. Don't tell me I wasted all my well earned money on those clothes I specifically chose for you?"

You shuddered, both in the past and now except now they only made bile rise into your throat. You were so young and vulnerable. Now you know better.

The past you quickly scampered off to get changed. After only 5 minutes you reappeared in what was sexy school girl. The blue miniskirt covered less than most underwear so you were forced to wear a thong. The shirt was a bralet that barely covered your nipples. Your hair was in pigtails and you wore thigh highs. The sight made you silently sick in your mouth. You looked pathetic and weak.

You looked at them expectingly. You were waiting for your next order from them. They seemed to drool at the sight of you. "That's better babes. Why didn't you go shopping like that? Show the world your fat ugly figure? I want you to walk out there and see that no one else wants you but here I am, loving you. I am the only one who will ever like you in the way we have now. Your lucky I've had some fun tonight. All I want is my vodka and a new blunt darling"

You quickly went and grabbed their stuff and walked towards them as they settled in front of the TV. They turned the TV on and put Love Island on. How you hated that show. It made you feel bad for being the size you are. The women on there were beautiful but you also knew that, that kind of beauty costs money. So while your partner had fun watching the show for the romance, you watched it to spot what part of them was bought and what was real. Almost all the women had fake teeth and breasts. You hated how your partner would make snide comments on how they looked compared to you.

"You should be looking like Becky ya know. Beautiful teeth, big perky tits and a fucking great ass. What do you have? Flabs!" And there was the first comment of the day. The first of 30, you counted.

"Yeah well you are fucking broke so I can't look like fucking fake ass Becky or the others!" You thought. Then the Doctor gave you a look of shock and pity and then you realised you said that aloud. Not loud enough for them to hear you but enough for the Doctor.

"Make yourself fucking useful and make me some dinner. I fancy a steak and chips." They ordered as you got up and waddled over to the kitchen. A few minutes in you realised you put too much oil in the pan for the steak but the steak was already in and cooking quick. So quick that it started to smoke just a little bit. You tried blowing it away from them before they realised that you fucked up their dinner but ut was too late. They were already on their feet a marching towards you.

"I'm so sorry. I accidentally poured too much oil in. I'm so sorry. I have a spare steak, you can have my meal for tonight, I could do with skipping a meal anyways, helps me lose weight!" Past you was panicked and present you wasn't much better. Even though you were safe from them, they still made you uneasy. If you were to ever see them again, you'd freeze. They made your blood run cold. Even their voice sent unpleasant shivers down your spine.

"You better make me another steak but I still have to punish you. You fucked up, a lesson needs to be learnt." They said scarily politely. They grabbed your left arm and marched you towards the sink. They also grabbed the burning pan and pinned you so you had no escape as they poured the boiling oil onto your skin. You knew not to scream do you bit into your other arm knowing a bite out of it is better than causing more punishments for screaming.

When they were done left to watch the TV and you knew what that meant. You had to cook the spare steak and make there meal before you can get proper treatment at the hospital. Through your tears of agony, you quickly ran your burnt and bleeding arm under the cold water of the sink. You bit deeper into your other arm and tasting blood, but thay didn't stop you until the left one had cooled down. Then you got an old shirt, ripped 2 pieces of fabric off and wrapped them around both arm Injuries. You then continued their meal.

Once they had the meal they kicked you and punched you in the stomach because the chips were slightly cold and then they drove you to the hospital as they promised. When you had left you didn't realise you had been crying until a drop fell on your arm. You walked out of the storage room and sat on the sofa, turning the TV off.

The Doctor looked shocked for a moment before walking over and kneeling in front of you. The Doctor went silent for a moment. Before she could speak, you decided to speak first.

"I couldn't tell you because I couldn't think if a nice way of telling you. I didn't want to appear weak to you." You cried as your voice cracked in the middle due to the tears and the strain. The Doctor looked at you in pity and disappointment.

"This does not make you weak. Being abused does not make you weak. Because being abused is like being tortured by someone who supposed to love you and cherish you. They are meant to protect you from danger not be the danger. I would never hurt you. I know that I put you in risky situations but believe me, I would never intentionally put you in danger. You mean too much to me" The Doctor softly spoke with tears making a little river down her soft cheeks and onto your black carpet below.

"Before I met them, I was like you or Yaz. I was so happy at everything. Very little could bring me down. But I met them and started dating them and suddenly, my world of sunshine faded to grey. There was no light. I wanted to die Doctor. When you found me at that spider hotel, I wanted to be free from them as I couldn't do it. I can't because they'd kill me. I don't want to be alive whilst I'm with them. I have so many scars from either them or me trying to end my own life and that the scariest thing. Death wants us to be terrified but wanting to die is so much more terrifying Doctor, I know that." You cried as you emptied all you could to her. The Doctor was silent for a moment, taking in everything you said. Waves of emotion flashed through her, anger, sadness, pity and something you couldn't quite place.

"You said wanted. That's past tense. You said wanted to die. What changed? What made you want to live?"

"You did. You saved me from the spiders. You gave me a temporary out of the relationship for a while. You made me smile for the first time in 3 years! You made me laugh. The world of grey is now full of sunshine and rainbows Doctor. You also saved me today. When I jumped across that canyon, I jumped to end my life. I made a mistake that nearly ended a planet! If I wasn't so fat and clumsy maybe i-"

"Don't you dare say that! You are not fat (n/n). Yes you have more plush to your body but you are not fat. I hate that word. Its such a nasty word. You are gorgeous, amazing and so brilliant. You can't see what I see and I really wished you could for just one moment. You are worthy of being loved and cared for. You are precious, rare, one of a kind. I've never met anyone like you. There's always some skinny, fake bodied and caked up women but there's no one with as much natural beauty as you! Let's get back to the TARDIS and we'll talk more when looking at the stars because I can see that being here isn't doing you any favours" The Doctor spoke with such passion that you started to believe that her words held more than those of a supporting friend would.

Once the TARDIS was parked in the Milky Way you settled by the door once again and found yourself accompanied by the sweet alien. You both sat there for a moment just content with wrapping your heads around what's just happened. You looked over to the blonde and noticed how the stars made her glow in such an ethereal way that you felt almost compelled to worship her. Maybe you should after everything she's done for you. Her eyes sparkled with si many emotions from the past senario.

"Are you still with them?"

"Why do you think I never left this place? I mean even if could, I wouldn't want to but it's mainly because if I go back home, I'll come back with more injuries. I feel safer with you. You are my sunshine and rainbows and they are my storm clouds. Whilst I'm here, I'm alive and mostly unbroken. Whilst I'm there, I'm as alive as a puppet and severely broken. I can't leave, not on my own anyway."

The Doctor looked at you in thought. "The starlight compliments you. You look so pretty and almost angelic. I just wish they never hurt my angel. My innocent angel had broken wings and I'm going to fix what the Devil broke, I promise. Just hold on, I'm going to take us somewhere."

You held the nearest crystal as the TARDIS transported you somewhere but it seemed like the sentient machine was determined to take you there as quick as she could. As you opened the doors you noticed a familiar smell of weed mixed with alcohol. You heard the familiar tune of Love Island and knew exactly where you were. You were home. The Doctor saw your hesitation and whispered softly, "I want you to pack everything you want. I've written a note for them to find. I'm going to put it on the bed. If they notice you scream for me and I'll be there. They will not hurt you much, hopefully not at all. I just need to do something in the TARDIS before I help you." She turned and left into the TARDIS and disappeared down a corridor.

The atmosphere sent chills down your spine and you were frozen. The TARDIS seemed to notice and words of encouragement were sent into your head which helped you move towards your bedroom. You quickly buy quietly opend your suitcase and started to fill it with clothing and hygiene products. As you entered the bathroom a bottle of their shampoo fell into the tub giving you away. You knew you only had so long before they came in and hurt you so you closed the door and barricaded it with whatever you could.

As you pushed the last cabinet to the pile they roared through the wooden door. "Let me in you fat dumb bitch. You've been gone for 3 weeks and you've got some balls coming back! You're lucky I haven't burned all your shit! Where have you been?"

Your heart ran at an extremely fast pace nd you knew only one person could help you now. And so you screamed her name so loud it hurt your throat bit that didn't stop you. You screamed until you heard talking. You couldn't understand what was said but suddenly a thud was heard and then silence.

"Hey Starlight! It's only me. I've taken care of them. They're not dead but in a venishion aikido. They can't move, they're paralysed. You can come out and finish packing"

You moved everything out of the door and opened it to a view you expected. The Doctor with 2 fingers to their pulse point on their neck. The Doctor smiled at when they saw you. You finished packing and zipped the bag up. Then Yaz walked in with her police uniform on and arrested them for domestic violence and many other things. Now you understood why The Doctor left, it was to get Yaz as a back up option to completely take them out of your life.

The Doctor helped open doors for you as you got your room and you set the suitcase to one side to empty another day. You both sat down on your bed. The sound was filled with nothing but 2 lifeforms breathing and the TARDIS faint buzzing. You two stayed like this, staring into each other, trying to read the others emotions. But we all know what The Doctor is like, she can't stay silent for long.

"I had to save you because as long as you were with them, you weren't ever going to be truly happy. I didn't want my big bright star to turn into a black hole, I wanted her to be a supernova. My Starlight deserves to be happy."

"You keep saying my Doctor. And you asked if I was still with them and then when I basically said yes, you quickly, as in a rush, sent us home so I could leave them. You keep saying all these things about me. You held my hand from the canyon to the drill. You are always the first to check on me and you always make sure I'm OK first even if I'm the farthest person from you! Doctor, be honest, I don't want any more bullshit. Doctor why?" You spoke softly but with determination. The Doctor blushed and shifted her gaze to the stars and quietly gulped. She knew this day would come. The day her secret was revealed. And she dreaded her answer and she dreaded your reaction. And whilst she figured out what to say, you already knew the answer.

You gently grabbed her chin and made her look at you. Once her gaze caught yours, you smiled and placed your lips to her soft ones. Quickly she caught up and kissed you back with all the love and passion she could muster. She wanted to relay that she did love you and that she would do exactly as she said earlier, she would cherish you.

As for you, you smiled. You finally had an out that didn't end in death but instead ended with the same love that you yearned for, for years.

#13th doctor #thirteenth doctor x reader #13th doctor x reader #depressing post #im sorry

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