#blackwiidowsniper

“Vic-keeeeey.” The teenager chimed as he caught her of course in the Third Rail, plopping down beside her and cracking open the beer he’d already purchased by the bar. There were days they couldn’t stand one another, and then better days where they could almost be mistake as friends.. When he wasn’t trying to lay the moves on so thick.

“Lookin’ like a million caps as usual, feel like spreadin’ the wealth?”

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The stranger turned towards her as she pulled away to apologize, humor tugging at his lips and eyes as he gave her a smile, though his eyes locked on the movement of her hand before he was able to focus again. Even seated, the man appeared a giant.

✖ How has Tumblr RP changed since you started?

send a ♠ for a mun fact

I actually had a conversation with my parents last night about asexuality and not only did I get to correct my dad on ‘Isn’t a sex-positive ace just… normal?’ but we found out my mom is probably gray ace and tbh I feel so much better after that. 

My mom bitches about the fact that I didn’t ‘officially’ come out but I mean… they made it easier for me to be myself and I wish more parents were like that bc I know I got really lucky.

Pandora seemed, well, miserable. Victoria nearly felt bad for them.

“I’ll look around for something dry enough to burn, but I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

Shucking off her outer layers of gear, her dripping coat included, she took a moment to let her gaze wander the unfortunate looking shack they had found themselves in. It smelled like old wood and dust, like they were the first living creatures to wander inside in years. She took a few steps, carefully pulling some fallen boards back to peek behind them, looking for anything that might could help with a fire.

“As for how long it’ll last…I’m not sure. One time I watched it storm for over a full day without respite.”

Her words left a sad, heavy feeling in their gut. They’d wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was a god who had mercy on them, but the thought was pushed away by the realization that if that god cared for them at all, it wouldn’t have rained in the first place.

“...Dammit.” They stood, visibly hesitating before leaving the sanctity of their corner. Closed their eyes, took a deep breath, and forced themselves to join the other’s search for something to burn, skin crawling with every drop that fell.

“What kinda people d’ya think lived here?” They voiced their curiosity to distract themselves, “There any photos or somethin’ ‘round?”

They tried the kitchen. Dilapidated and overgrown, buzzing with flies and smelling of something rotting, but structurally sound, if nothing else. Perhaps there was something flammable stored, alcohol, even, and maybe it’d be enough to burn through the dampness. They spared a glance at the refrigerator, where they knew the smell would be strongest. A heavy sigh, and they opened the door.

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.” Yep. Something was rotting. Something was very rotten. Wow. What even is that? It wasn’t even recognizable as anything specific so much as just sludge. A disgusting pot of sludge. 

And no alcohol. They decided that, whoever the previous residents were, they didn’t like them. 

In the past few years Goodneighbor, and the Third Rail in particular, had been the only place John really felt like home. Where he could kick back and not be bothered.

He was now at the bottom of his second glass of whiskey, and was about to order one more when a faimilar face caught his eye. He had seen her at the Rail before but never approached her. 

Well, today he decided to change that. 

John flagged down Charlie, ordered a bottle of whiskey and two glasses and slid off the bar stool before he made his way over to the couch in the corner.