but throw in a muscular knife-wielding pierced badass lady with an admirable sense of self-confidence and some really spectacular cleavage who digs your face paint ( shit, by the way, you really should have taken that off ) … compared to the ninth house, this is heaven.

you’re trying not to look too eager as you gaze back at your would-be threat; sometimes looking keen for a fight can be just as big of a mistake as flinching away from one, and you’re trying to build a new life for yourself, not crawl back to nonagesimus with sixteen broken bones. “ my intentions are mostly ‘please feed me,’ cries my stomach driven, but if that’s too anticlimactic let me know. i could always make something up about coming from a far away land in search of the chosen one who can save the world from a cliché bad guy. ”

deciding to continue demonstrating how epic, cool, and unbothered you are, you slide your sunglasses up your face and examine her more carefully with those golden eyes of yours. “ and let me guess, your name is chosen one, right ? ”

junker queen is always looking to add to her crew --- she had been scrapping things together her whole life -- found family included. when you build from scrap, you never stop looking for parts. and right now dez was determining ---- was she a part to be salvaged? or was she to be junked?

she takes a moment to observe --- and in deeming gideon truthful, is eager the relieve some of the pressure her knife had been applying. not fully though ---- now the knife's tip was teasing down collarbones, in the hollows of throats. dez always did like breaking in her new toys.

good to deem where loyalties lie.

" food, eh? " she snickers, and sheathes the knife entirely. blunt honesty was a plus, and was also something that was a necessity to stay in junker queen's crew. " we'll feed ya and get'cha cot to sleep on. i might be a wastelander, but i'm not a monster. " no one who came here left with an empty belly ----- not unless they deserved it.

she didn't know who you were? interesting. " must not be from round these parts, eh? probably for the best --- who knows what years in this junk heap would do to ya. " dez gathers herself to her full height, smile all full of teeth and malice. " i am the junker queen. odessa stone. "

dez takes gideon's chin in hand, turning her face one way, and then the other ---- inspecting, before she winks. " pretty eyes, babe. maybe you can call me dez if you're a good girl. "

alright, back to business.

licker? put down. perimeter? secured. hallway? scouted, cleared. you are ready to move, everything accounted for. now that it was safe -----

------ you are taken aback by the way faith grabs your collar, yanks you roughly down to her level, tone so sharp you were sure it would have cut you to ribbons if it were a knife. what did you do?

you think for a moment ----- replaying the physical interaction in your head ---- necessary? yes, maybe. but you had been victimized one too many times to not understand the inherent lines you had crossed by pressing into her physical space, restraining her, even if it had not been with intention to break or bruise. but what could you do? you knew what a licker would do --- had seen first hand how it tore limb from torso ---- and the damn things could hear almost anything!

you wouldn't lose anyone else. not this time. you had already lost too many under your protection.

there's no time to explain all this, much easier done when you aren't a sitting duck. you make a point of raising your hands, almost in a show of surrender. you step back as far as the fists balled around your shirt will let you.

" you want to spit at me? yell at me? even take a few swings? fine ----- you deserve that. but you'll need to do it once we get out of here. " you keep your tone even, eyes keeping direct contact with hers. " i'm sorry --- i wasn't thinking about your comfort, only survival. and keeping you safe from those--- fucking things. " you wanted to crawl into bed and be done with these nightmares for the rest of your life. but you would never get away, you knew that much.

𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇.

[ 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 ] ― sender wraps a soft blanket around receiver’s shoulders [ 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐊 ] ― sender and receiver fall into bed together on silk sheets [ 𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐋 ] ― sender pulls receiver’s hair ( gently / hard ) [ 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 ] ― sender strokes receiver’s hair [ 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 ] ― sender brushes receiver’s hair [ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 ] ― sender paints a picture onto part of receiver’s body ( specify what & where ) [ 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 ] ― sender traces their fingertips over receiver’s body [ 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑 ] ― sender traces a scar on receiver’s body [ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 ] ― sender reaches out to hold receiver’s hand [ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 ] ― sender worships receiver’s body

𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄.

[ 𝐔𝐍𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 ] ― sender feeds receiver something they’ve never tried before ( specify what ) [ 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑 ] ― sender feeds receiver something sour ( specify what ) [ 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 ] ― sender feeds receiver something sweet ( specify what ) [ 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐄 ] ― sender feeds receiver something spicy ( specify what ) [ 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 ] ― sender kisses receiver to taste the lingering flavour of what they ate or drank on their lips ( specify what ) [ 𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑 ] ― sender bites receiver hard enough to draw blood [ 𝐔𝐍𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 ] ― sender feeds receiver soup when they’ve fallen ill [ 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊 ] ― sender makes receiver a cocktail to try [ 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐇 ] ― sender cooks receiver their favourite meal [ 𝐓𝐑𝐘 ] ―  sender gives receiver a taste of what they’re cooking / baking for their opinion

𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.

[ 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃 ] ― sender blindfolds receiver [ 𝐑𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄 ] ― sender and receiver see each other again after a period of being apart [ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 ] ― sender notices something different about receiver ( injury / haircut / tattoo / piercing / etc ) [ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋 ] ― sender greets receiver in formal partywear ( feel free to add detail ) [ 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐒 ] ― sender takes receiver to see lanterns in the sky [ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 ] ― sender and receiver lay under the stars to stargaze [ 𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐄 ] ― sender and receiver lock eyes across the room [ 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 ] ― sender and receiver see a shadow move out the corner of their eye [ 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍 ] ― sender and receive watch as something burns ( candles / a building / a campfire / etc ) [ 𝐅𝐈𝐒𝐇 ] ― sender takes receiver to the aquarium to watch the sea life [ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊 ] ― sender recognises receiver at a masquerade party

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃.

[ 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂 ] ― sender puts on the radio to listen to music with receiver [ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 ] ― sender plays receiver their favourite song on an instrument ( specify what ) [ 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 ] ― sender and receiver are in bed together while rain lashes against the windows / tent / etc [ 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑 ] ― sender whispers something in receiver’s ear ( specify what ) [ 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ] ― sender asks receiver for a dance upon hearing a song [ 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐘 ] ― sender and receiver hear a sound when they should be alone ( footsteps / creaking floorboards / a scream / etc ) [ 𝐇𝐔𝐌 ] ― sender hums a lullaby to lull receiver to sleep [ 𝐌𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐃 ] ― sender comforts a temporally deaf receiver after a loud sound ( gunshot / explosion / etc ) [ 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐌 ] ― sender calms receiver down from a panic attack in a loud place [ 𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐑 ] ― sender and receiver hear a muffled sound from another room / outside ( music / people / creature / etc ) [ 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 ] ― sender hears receiver crying and approaches comfort them

𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋.

he  certainly  isn’t  expecting  you  to  sidle  into  view  next  —  all  long  legs  under  skintight  suit,  tapping  your  gun  lightly  against  your  hip  as  you  look  him  over.  you  pay  no  mind  to  the  weapon  he  hasn’t  yet  lowered,  instead  moving  closer  still,  slow  footsteps  and  swaying  hips  and  all  the  time  in  the  world  at  your  disposal.

“  these  little  insects  are  so  annoying,  ”  you  offer,  tone  playful  as  you  circle  gradually  around  @localdemonz​​.  sidestep  another  blood  splatter  across  the  floor  here,  an  elegant  ballet  leap  over  another  corpse  there.  “  you  are  lucky  they’re  not  so  challenging,  or  your  amateur  skills  would  be  no  match.  who  taught  you  how  to  shoot,  ma  petite  mouche  ?  and  why  did  they  want  you  dead  ?  ”  your  gaze  flicks  over  his  body,  absorbing  him  in  just  the  same  manner  as  he  takes  you  in.  “  what  a  waste.  ”

stop  flirting,  reaper  chastises  in  your  ear,  you’re  here  for  intel.  you  shut  down  your  comm  in  answer;  there’s  a  reason  talon  sent  you  for  a  mission  of  this  sensitive  nature  and  not  a  hotheaded  fool  like  him.

you  catch  more  flies  with  honey,  as  they  say.

“  but  they  outnumber  us,  ”  you  point  out  as  the  zombie  you’d  already  taken  note  of  several  rooms  deeper  finally  enters  the  room.  you  hit  this  one  without  looking  —  three  bullets  in  the  head,  too  easy.  “  your  death  would  be  boring.  ask  me  sweetly  and  i  will  be  your  ally  …  for  the  moment.  ”

holy fuck.

no. no no no, no. you have to keep your wits about you. you know this game, you have been caught up in webs before. there was no way a woman like that didn't come with a whole other host of problems for you. no way a woman like that just drops in to the middle of a mission like this without something going wrong.

you have played this game before. if you touch her, she dies. or worse.

that doesn't mean you can't appreciate her ass skills, though. you assess the zombies she had laid out, all cleanly shot through the head. interesting --- either she knew that a headshot was a necessity to put these bastards down. or she was just a fucking great shot. either way, you're still testing the waters, you don't mention it yet, impressed or otherwise.

" they were people once, like you, " you assume anyway, unsure if the tone of her skin is just a trick of the light. " or i. i don't take pleasure in putting them down. " just the bastard that made them like this to begin with. your head cocks, brow deepening as her jab about your skills hit home. she really had no idea who she was dealing with, did she?

hmph. whatever. lets see how far she can get without your guidance.

" plenty of people want me dead, sweetheart. always seems like i get a deus ex machina right when i need it. " you smirk at her as you stand from the ground, implication clear --- flattery will get you hopefully into this woman's pants on her good side.

you wipe the blood from your face, taking a very inefficient moment to observe her ----- the curves of her hips, intense eyes, the muscular torso you could practically see through the suit ----- yeah. might not be too bad having her around for now. just keep your cards close to your chest.

you have never been woken like this before. woken by confusion, pain, bewildering terror. the pain itself is not so BAD as the realisation that you’re helpless to stop whatever happens next. josh is so much stronger than you. he has the upper hand before you even knew there was a fight coming. a large part of you is screaming to fight back, even if you won’t, can’t, win. a small and worrying part tells you not to bother. a smaller and even more worrying part tells you that you might enjoy it.

but before any of these parts can win your internal battle, josh moves. his mouth presses more gently against your throat, distracting you from the wound on your shoulder. then he pulls away, thank god. you lie there for a moment before remembering how to move.

you sit up, pushing him away, out of your space — you need SPACE. ‘what the fuck, josh?’ you clasp a hand to your shoulder, feeling blood seep between your fingers. ‘of course i’m not okay. you fucking B I T me!’ do you have a first aid kit? of course you fucking don’t! you didn’t think you’d need one — didn’t think your friend would attack you in the middle of the night. ‘no, josh. sit down.’ you point at your desk chair, on the opposite side of the room from your bed. ‘i’ll handle this.’

in the bathroom, miraculously, you find a first aid kit. thank god your roommate has more forethought than you. you bring it back to your room — of course you’re not letting josh out of your sight for long after this — and throw it on the bed. you dig out something to wipe your shoulder with. the antiseptic alcohol stings. josh, sitting in the desk chair, looks the way he always does. he looks like josh. but that means something different now. your blood is on his mouth. you toss an antiseptic wipe at him to clean himself up with.

you try to remind yourself what you know about josh. his sisters were killed. a year later, the monster that did it came back for josh and his friends. it got josh. he is scarred. he is broken. 

but something in you has snapped. you are so TIRED of holding yourself together for the sake of other people. you want to break things. why not start with something that’s already broken?

he is stuck with the beast. there is no surgical procedure, no therapeutic plan that will ever cure him of this. this is terminal. as long as he is alive and in society, there is always the chance that he will wake up like --- like that. and sure -- it had only taken a few minutes to get it under control, but what did that mean for the future?

he feels the full brunt of jim's anger (rightful anger, of course) when he returns to the room, and he shrinks further into his seat. winces at the jim's tone, at his remark about mike. as suspected, josh figured mike would say as much. who wouldn't call him a basket case? he was a basket case. he was a burden ---- better off still stuck down in those goddamn mines.

he swipes the antiseptic wipe across his mouth, fingers quaking when the pale fabric comes away red. he tastes blood on his teeth. for a moment, he had liked it. he had liked it. he wanted to vomit, he wanted to disappear.

" i am psychotic, jim. that's what the meds are for. " his voice is soft, he is only interested in leaving. there is no salvaging this. there is no explaining that meds will not fix the problems that josh has acquired. " its.... more than that. i don't think i can be around people anymore. " he says --- the closest he can come to answering jim's question. because there is no way in hell that anyone would believe the truth. josh is already severely mentally ill, with delusions as a symptom. there's no way in hell anyone would believe him who was not at those mines.

                      “  come  now,      @localdemonz​​,  ”      you  begin,      perhaps  alarmingly  calm  given  her  irritating  attempts  at  manhandling  you.      but  you  allow  it;      you're  curious  to  see  how  she  behaves  in  this  situation.      what  limited  and  fragile  trust  you’ve  established  between  you  hinges  on  her  behavior  from  this  point  on.      “  you  don’t  wish  to  seem  overly  defensive,      do  you  ?  ”

                    you’re  no  fool.      you  know  she  isn’t  trustworthy;      that  she’s  likely  hiding  a  great  deal  of  things.      but  do  they  threaten  you,      threaten  talon  ?      is  there  a  possibility  that  she  is  a  double  agent,      meant  to  appear  so  loud  and  rebellious  that  most  would  dismiss  her  outright  for  doing  anything  other  than  wearing  her  true  emotions,      true  loyalties  on  her  sleeve  ?      of  course.  

                    and  so  you  become  shadow;      in  her  hands  one  moment  and  just  behind  her  the  next,      ignoring  the  usual  choir  of  agony  as  your  cells  reconfigure  themselves  from  one  biological  state  to  the  next,      one  matter  to  another.      then  she’s  the  one  pinned  against  the  wall,      your  weight  against  her  back,      your  voice  low  in  her  ear.        “  unlock  your  computer  if  you  have  nothing  to  hide.      prove  it  to  me,      and  we  can  be  done  with  this.  ”

information ---- that’s what he wants? perhaps he has caught on to her game quicker than intended. either way, regardless of what he wants to believe, when information was at stake, she would always hold the lock and key. and she would be the one to decide what information he got, how he got it.

she was pulling the strings.

as expected, he is quick to physically dominate, using his unnatural construct and inhuman strength to his advantage. this was never about overpowering him physically, though. this is a song they have been dancing to for a few weeks now ---- he has her in his claws, and she slips away --- through a translocator conveniently placed far away from him, a quick slip into invisibility, a lucky break at moira walking in at an inopportune time.

this time, sombra has another dance she would like to try ---- she presses her hips back into reaper’s groin and grinds, interested to see what sort of intel she can gather from his reaction. “ c’mon gabrielito ---- i promise you don’t want to see my browser history.” 

or! maybe that was the perfect idea, she thought. she smirked, a soft hmph leaving her lips.

“ actually mr. reaper man --- you want to know what’s on my laptop so bad? i can show you something ------ “ her modified hand pulls up a hologram --- of course he wouldn’t be able to get in to her computer without her modifications, duh. she makes a point of selecting a very specific video file. she presses play, and slides her modified arm down reaper’s thigh, grasping at his ass once as ------

what is obviously an amature video of disgraced commander jack morrison and disgraced blackwatch commander gabriel reyes engaging in extremely loud, very gay sex, blasts over her computer speaker.

ellie, what the hell is this? you were supposed to use the money to lay low. blend in. you can't really do that by going full hot topic in public. i suppose i should be more understanding. you did lose your sister, after all. even worse, you lost her because of me.

in the age of e-girls and social media, it makes sense for you to go down the elvira path... i' should've been there for you. how can i explain that it was safer to be away? you, henry, paco... i've ruined all your lives by trying to protect you.

now, i know you're angry with me. i get it, i would be too. but is the attitude necessary?

the fact that he decided to continue speaking to you lights up a spark of indignation in your normally cold heart. was he deaf? blind? could he not see the warning signs in your clothing, demeanor and posture? did he not hear the tone of your threat? perhaps you should be a little more forward.

" admitting to the crime now, are we? hmph... i would be well within my right to defend myself against you --- and i will not hold back. " you purposefully do not answer his questions -- confused by his mention of money. do creeps normally just go about offering up money to young women? not without there being a paywall on onlyfans, you supposed. but certainly not in... pilgrim world.

it would be too stupid of him to come up to you like this if he were truly just stalking you, so you think that is an unlikely possibility. maybe he was part of a trafficking ring, or a serial killer, or maybe this was-----

----you stop the train of thought in your tracks, suddenly becoming sour.

you huff, all at once certain you know who put this... strange man into your life. you slam your book closed, dead eyes whipping to him and pinning him with the weight of your stare. " did my parents put you up to this? "

of course, always meddling in your plans. always trying to send ill-thought through gifts. of course, they would find your contentedness at nevermore conditional to some morbid mystery that kept the complex gears in your brain running. as if you were scooby doo, nothing more than a dog chasing the thrill of the case. ugh. " i can find my own mystery to solve, thank you. i'm not interested in --- uncovering your petty criminal history over there. "