now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,

[Carrion Queen]

Paul was glued to the card as Matias unearthed the outcome. He was so shocked that he forgot to keep up his "enigmatic sexy musician" persona and instead seemed much younger, smiling wide and laughing.

"Holy shit, bro! You just won two hundred do-"

Paul was grabbed by the lapels of his big, purple coat and felt lips smashing against his. Paul was double shocked by this and froze for a second.





So, this wasn't the first time Paul had kissed a guy, but it was the first time that it wasn't on stage. A judiciously-employed, guy-on-guy smooch could really rile up a crowd if you could feel the vibes out.

"Sure we should make out. It's not, like, even that big a deal. I smooched Ayden during the gig, so it's not that big a deal," he'd told one girl after.

"He did kiss Ayden I guess..." she mused.

Now, Paul knew himself pretty well and didn't think guys were for him, probably. Paul wasn't a politician; he wasn't going to go down on the poles.

However.





When he regained his faculties, Paul giggled against Matias's lips and pushed back a little before separating. Anyone who was into Paul earned good will from him -- after all, that showed that they had excellent taste, and he had to respect that.

Paul grabbed the case of beer as he pulled himself back to his side of the transaction counter.

"Th-Thief!" he stammered, smirking. In a rarity for Paul Smith, his face was flushed. He didn't blush cutely across the cheeks and bridge of the nose; when he blushed it was his whole face turning a blotchy red. He had to fight against his traitorous skin his first few times performing for people.

"Lusty larcenist," he chided, wagging his finger. "T-Take your winnings a-and we'll take ours."

Paul grabbed Olivia's hand and started out the door before anything could jeopardize the victory, not bothering to pick up the Monster energy drinks. Paul didn't think he was at danger of nodding off while DJing at the party any more.

"That didn't count," he said quickly to her.

(( Paul Smith continued elsewhere ))

[Cicadan]

Olivia's gaze idled, she relaxed. She was one with the hum of the true crime lit establishment, her breathing soft as the flourescent hum. Sublimating straight into the background, as was her go-to move in many an awkward situation.

But for once her brain was actually turned off, pleasant, peaceful. Never mind that Matias and Paul were busy eating face. Never mind that it was kind of hot, the way the different tones of their lips blended- she wasn't really watching, not any more, her eyes had drifted off into a corner of the room where she could be alone with her own thoughts. God could watch them if He wanted, she didn't need to keep up with the BL a moment longer.

She was, very much so, still hung up on the whole 'good girl' thing.
Current Mindworm:
Tf am I? A dog

But as usual, she had to crash to earth faster than terminal velocity. The conscious and concentious part of her brain had to reassert itself, and the ease in her posture stiffened imperceptably, from natural and authentic to only approximately so.

Fortunately Paul had ripped them apart before Olivia would have declared him a lost cause and blamed herself for making him go turncoat for the other team, because of course she would have had such an effect on men in her own worst nightmares. She chose to pointedly ignore the pink on his cheeks, and to pointedly ignore Matias in general, save to pray on his behalf that he'd make good use of his sudden windfall.

Pray for him, not at him. Her well wishes would linger long after she banished him from her mind and low key hoped they never saw each other again, especially not in Quik Stop specifically. Not while she still had to come around here once every other week.

"Paul- Paul! You forgot-"

They were already out in the parking lot, desolate of cars, poorly lit as dusk descended, scent of motor oil faint.

Typical boy, ignoring her. Typical boy, dragging her in his wake, her body ragdoll physics as she very pointedly shut off her own stranger danger, sacrificing the sudden prickle and aggravation that spread through her fingertips so shockingly electric that she swore he'd feel it through the condictivity of their connected skin. Once more she was a bashful little thing. Availible, but not overly so, lest he get the wrong impression.

Typical boy, all that.

"It did not, no. Unless you're ready to confess. I'm all ears," she laughed, as if she appreciated her own joke. Heaven fucking forbid that Paul's gay awakening steal him from her. He could do that on his own time, after they'd had their fun.

And, of course, she didn't make the first move. Unbecoming of her to do so, even in the questionable climate of women trying to pretend feminism meant they could be the initiators even though that was a very obvious turn off to anybody who knew what they were doing. She simply waited, watched. Smiled until he adjusted his grip. Something intimate and warmer, something she didn't feel all that much but knew was objectively a good thing.

Hand in hand, boy and girl. Fingers intertwined awkwardly, difference in sizes accounted for. As nature intended. Olivia smiled carefree- far as anyone could tell.

She glanced back once, so fast even she didn't register that she was hoping Matias had seen her casually kick the stake off his claim.

(Olivia Fischer, continued)

[Maraoone]

Not that it fuckin mattered to him anymore. He was two hundred dollars richer than the rest of them, who gave a fuck about Paul or Olivia or anyone, really? All that really mattered was the ghost feeling of Paul's lips on his, the flushing of his cheeks, the relief of a win after so many losses, the buzz of it all.

And all that remained was what to do with it.

Well, logistical steps were to scan it in for himself, take the money from the register. He'd keep the scratch-it with him and the receipt just in case his dipshit manager accused him of stealing, so he could throw it at him, tell him to suck his dick. And then, once he got his money... he'd been eyeing some wireless earbuds from Bose, something to more efficiently blast a hundred decibels of PUP into his ears, speed up the tinnitus acquisition process a bit. Or buy a few hoodies for himself from Superdry, liven up his wardrobe a bit. His sneakers were falling apart though, maybe some Nike shoes? Or he could buy a round for everyone the next time he hung out with the rest of Lovesick Dead, liven up the party a bit. But, he'd broken a drumstick at their last gig, so he probably needed to do something with that. Or, Salome had been complaining again about how little food there was in the fridge, how she'd had to eat Maruchan for the second day in a row. Or, the rent was looking steep, maybe he could do this to chip it down a little? Or...

He was still now. Paralyzed.

((Matias Juarez continues in i will retire to the salton sea at the age of 23))