sun, sea & sex.

Angie Russo. 29 years young. Manager at the local sex shop.

[angie--russo]

pascal-deschamps‌:

In a Changed World || Marguerite & Pascal

@marguerite-belle

Despite the chaos of the past weeks, Pascal had been very much aware of certain individuals around the place who weren’t citizens of Janestown, and sadly had some kind of connection to him from the past. Not the very long ago past at that, which he could’ve brushed off easier, but the recent past, no longer than a couple of weeks ago. When he had still been part of the St. Clemence richest members, even when declaring bankruptcy lay on the horizon. A clear and present danger that would’ve ended with him once again running for survival, and most likely explore options even further West. If not for the apocalypse that saved him from actually admitting to his severe losses. And also sparing him the unfortunate event that might follow if he had to let go all of his employees. 

Not that life always smiled down at him - failed businesses aside - since as soon as he had reached Janestown, it appeared that one of those employees that he had felt so lucky about avoiding, had made it this far too. 

He eyed her from across the room, in part annoyed that this misfortune struck her, in part worried about her attitude towards him. He had owned the establishment where she’d worked, but he had left the business to someone else, and as far as he had heard, that individual hadn’t made a good job of anything. Not that he had cared enough to set things right, he had simply allowed for the situation to continue, which was a flaw, because despite how much Pascal wanted to be in control, there were certain things he wanted to keep well away from. Whores was one thing, he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back if he visited the place daily to check on the situation. He simply came to collect the winnings. 

Now, however, there was no way to avoid what might follow. He saw the room slowly emptying, as the last survivors in this part of the town either went back to their jobs, or went to sleep upstairs. There was a lot more space here than in the jail cells they had spend the last weeks in. Though of course, it was still crowded. However, she did not go. He wasn’t sure if she was aware of his presence, or if she simply stayed behind to get some time alone - which was one of the reasons he was sitting downstairs this late at night, and not either on watch or claiming a bunk so he could get some rest before his next shift. Her being here certainly didn’t ensure that alone time. 

Eventually, when there was barely anyone left, and those left either had to go outside, or were lingering at the door that went upstairs, Pascal stood from his spot. He crossed the room, careful to stay away from her as he moved, while he kept a good eye on her along the way. He went to the counter, which Miss Martin kept under lock and key because she in fact trusted no one. He carefully looked for a half smoked cigar, going through the cupboards that weren’t locked, and cursed under his breath when he couldn’t find anything. When he gave attention to the room again, it appeared that they were indeed the only two left. He arched an eyebrow, regarded her as he walked back to his seat. “What are the odds,” he said flatly, as he sat down.

Maggie noticed him as soon as he entered the room. Her eyes couldn’t help but bear into his skull as he watched him go about his day, living; surviving. A part of her wanted the man that ruined the place she once called home to not have made it, but here he was, boasting with every breath he took the fact that he was still alive. But it wasn’t in Marguerite’s character to make a scene, at least not in front of the residents of Janestown. It wasn’t their business, and Maggie wasn’t about to make things even more uncomfortable than it already was by starting an argument in public.

So, she waited. Pottered about until the room started to become emptier, avoiding direct eye contact until it was just the two of them left. Her eyes met his, dark and glaring, and she crossed her arms over her chest as he spoke. “Hm,” she said flatly, “funny that.”

Maggie walked to the adjacent side of the room and sat down directly opposite to him, eyes still burning holes in his skull. “I’m surprised they even let you in this group. Don’t they know you destroy everything you seem to touch?” It was a bold statement, but Maggie had developed a sheer hatred for the man in front of her. It wasn’t just his goons that Pascal had employed to run the brothel that ruined the place; Pascal doomed it from the moment he purchased the property by doing nothing to stop the business from failing, even though he knew full well how much the girls that lived there relied on business thriving. She remembered stroking one of her closest friend’s hair, soothing her as she cried into Maggie’s dress, bubbling that she had nowhere else to go and this was her life. What was she going to do? Why wouldn’t anyone help her or the other girls? And when the poor whores begged Pascal for help, he turned his nose up at them, as if they were dirt on his shoe.

[angie--russo]

wolf-in-horse-clothes‌:

She was expressive too. Wolf really felt like he needed to close his mouth and not look like a silly boy, but he couldn’t help it, having been - among the horses - for such a long time, he had only seen some courtesans from a distance. His home town had been too small to even have a brothel, and he had never been to the next town over. His parents, who were very religious folk, were exceptionally against it. He didn’t know what to think, he had grown up around his parents and siblings, who all believed that, and the Veterans simply didn’t share that kind of wisdom with him, meaning he had very little to say on the subject that was positive. But he didn’t want to have an opinion. He wanted her to like him. 

He even liked it when she called him sweetie, it was better than kid or boy, much, much better. Although, he would probably recoil if one of the Veterans ever said as much to him. She said a lot of things that felt too smart for him to respond to. He looked, still wide-eyed, and nodded. “I’m not waiting on orders,” he said, confidently, or at least more so than before. Though he wasn’t sure if she meant him by it. “My name is Diego,” he said, using his actual name instead of his given name, because… well, he probably just wanted to sound more adult, instead of saying he was called Wolf. But it seemed wrong not to state the name he wanted to hear more too. “But most people call him Wolf.” Which was technically a lie, because nobody in fact called him that, or at least rarely. It was either kid or boy. Or sweetie. But sweetie he liked. 

“Diego,” she repeated with a nod, musing over the name; not a common one, that’s for sure. Or maybe she was just used to the boring names of the customers she used to have. White male names never really peaked her interest. John, George... boring. “It suits you.” She liked the kid. He seemed kind; genuine. Something she wasn’t too familiar with, especially nowadays. Most people were either angry, scared or wanted nothing to do with her. She couldn’t blame them. Most of the town had lost loved ones, and that tends to mess with people’s heads.

“Wolf?” Maggie asked, her brows perking upwards curiously. “Where’d you get that name? If you don’t mind me asking.” She didn’t know his story, but given such a name must have meant something significant. She’d always been used to nicknames, usually grunted in a moment’s pleasure from a stranger, but none of them meant anything to her. 

[angie--russo]

gxnsmith‌:

jericho can’t help the lilt of amusement that reaches his lips at the womans words.  he doesn’t know her.  that face ( pleasing to the eye as it was ) wasn’t one he’d encountered before the survivors had been crammed together through fate and chance ( and maybe a little bit of luck ) - certainly not a janestown native.  

❝ –if’n y’all have taken it upon yourself to keep everyone sane, then best of luck to you. ❞

there’s a note of humour to his tone as he offers the words.  he’s not belittling her efforts, simply acknowledging the fact that most were in doubt of their sanity.  he’s seen the haunted eyes of men back from war before - and that self same look was reflected in most of the faces here.  not that they were soldiers - just townsfolk for the most part.  no training, no preparation, no knowledge of what they might be up against… or when the next attack might happen.  it’s easy to doubt reality when it’s so far removed from the norm.  

❝ –but if there’s one thing i’ve learned about people, it’s that they’re often more resilient than they know.  people these parts have weathered fever, drought, pests, bandits… this is just… something else to survive. ❞

the rat is all but forgotten now.  jericho finally turning his full attention to the woman idling on the boardwalk nearby.

❝ –y’all were on that train outta clemence, right? ❞

Maggie let out a soft laugh as she shifted herself on the steps, straightening out her dress so it didn’t pick up dirt from the wood she sat on. “Someone has to try. Otherwise it won’t just be the creatures out there that we’ll be fighting, and I know humans will be a lot more difficult to deal with than something we can simply kill. Humans will protest and manipulate, something far more difficult to deal with than something wanting to kill us.” She let out another laugh at the thought of the whole group turning against each other out of insanity, and she knew she would definitely prefer the walking dead.

“Yeah... yeah, I was. Luckily. It got a little intense before I left... people dropping like flies to these things - blood hungry things, with no sense or emotion or any humanly traits. It’s like something right out of the Bible. The end of the world. All we need is for Four Horsemen to ride on up here and rain true terror upon what left we have of this land.” While she wasn’t really a religious gal, being one of the Devil’s patriots according to the Bible simply due to the occupation she wound up in, she did believe that there was a Holy force controlling the world they lived in. It was probably karma for all the unholy things mankind had done so far. “I’m just glad I got out alive and found refuge here. I don’t think I’d make a very good looking undead gal,” she joked, trying to make light of the situation.

[angie--russo]

wolf-in-horse-clothes‌:

Wolf looked wide-eyed at the lady who was being so honest about her former occupation, his mouth was slightly agape, and he wondered if anyone else was paying as much attention as he was. He was sipping some water, little sip, the longer it would last. They couldn’t get any new water, that’s what they told him. They had to wait for rain, and deal with what little they had left. Wolf wasn’t necessarily hungry, he had gone days with little food, so he had some experience in the ration department. But the boredom of the place was something he had a lot of trouble with. 

But this lady. She was so forward about being a whore, and about baths, he was staring, couldn’t help it. She was beautiful as well, he had a healthy blush on his face when she directed a question to the people in the room, a lot of them didn’t seem to want to answer. It was a small place, but not everyone was so upbeat as she was. “Uhm, I guess I miss just the open air, freedom?” He wondered for a moment if she found that a satisfying answer. He wondered if she would think he was charming, oh probably not. 

Maggie’s attention turned to the only voice that was brave enough to answer her question. She got it - not everyone was as open as her, or as shameless. But she’d learned to love herself over the years and truly appreciate the beauty of self respect and self care that she had no shame anymore. And while she knew she couldn’t change people in their set ways, if she could set an example of how they could be, then she would. She wished everyone be a little more open to exploring themselves a little more. But of course, she knew that wasn’t a priority nowadays.

She looked over and gave a bright smile towards the blushing boy nearby. “Fresh air! Oh, how I miss that, too. Late night walks and early morning strolls, alone or with company - any excuse to get out of the stuffy indoors just when you need it,” she replied enthusiastically. “It’s amazing that one of the youngest lads in here is the only one to speak of freedom. You would think the adults in here would rebel against the idea of being kept behind doors, under orders, all day. But I suppose, deep down, we’re all just kids waiting for orders anyway.” Growing up reading any book she could get her hands on, Marguerite definitely had a theatrical side to her. Works of fiction set her imagination on fire the few times she had stumbled across them, and she definitely held on to the drama of it all in her adulthood. “What’s your name, sweetie?” she asked, the ensuring smile still resting on her lips. 

[angie--russo]

“God, you know what I miss? Baths. Being clean. I suppose that’s one of the luxuries of being a whore... men like you clean, men pay for you to be clean. Well, some of them. Some of them don’t care, they would still have you even if you just rolled yourself in a pile of horse shit...” 

She couldn’t help but laugh to herself as she thought aloud. As much as her life never turned out the way she planned it to be, she missed the way things used to be. Before the outbreak; before the new management take over. When things were harmonious and she was happy with the life she lead. Now it was like it had never happened. She often wondered about the girls she used to work with. She hoped they were safe and that she would see them again soon, alive and healthy. But she could only wish.

“What do you miss the most? What’s something you would wish for if you could right now? Anything - nothing is off limits,” she asked curiously to anyone who wanted to chime in, trying to break the awful and piercing silence that most people preferred to bask in nowadays.

[angie--russo]

gxnsmith‌:

open starter [ post event ]

there’s a rat.  small black beady eyes, tiny pink feet and a long pink tail.  it’s sniffing at something in the dirt.  something that could quite easily be a chunk of… someone.  maybe someone he’d once known.  perhaps had even shared a drink or a smile with.  maybe even someone he’d cared for.  he’ll never know.  it’s probably not worth dwelling on.  

he’s half tempted to throw a rock at the creature.  but for all it’s supposedly vermin, he can’t quite bring himself to kill anything else right now.  ( that, and the fact that his depth perception is pretty much non existent, chances of him even coming close to hitting it were… slim to none - he might as well toss the rock straight up ).  it’s kinda nice just to see that something other than themselves survived.

it’s only when he hears a small scuff on the wood porch behind that there’s a half turn - the reverie and his little tete-a-tete with the rodent broken by the presence of someone else.  the small creature pricking up at the movement, seemingly weighing up it’s options - run, or chance investigating it’s prize.  for his part, he doesn’t draw any unwarranted attention to it - live and let live?  eh… something like that.

❝ – does feel a little crowded in there, huh? ❞

just his own observation, and at least they had a little more confidence in stepping out of the door than before, town no longer swarming with infected.

❝ – reckon you’re okay out here for a bit - if’n you’re needin’ some air.  and if y’needin’ some privacy then… feel free, just.. don’t step out too far. ❞

As much as the sight of a group of people willing and ready to survive made this whole situation a little more settling, Marguerite sometimes needed some time to herself. It was harder to get privacy nowadays - there were always people around her, talking to her, asking her things she didn’t know the answer to - but she was always happy to lend a smile to the people who needed it. That was her job, after all. A pleaser. Give the people what they most wanted and be paid in return. But instead of money, which wasn’t even a concept anymore, she was rewarded in people’s happiness, as cheesy as that may be. 

But she needed a moment to herself after the recent commotion in town recently. She took a second to slip out of the general store unnoticed, only to be met with a man who seemed to have the same idea, sitting on the porch step by the front door, alone and with peace. 

She took in the air, inhaling and exhaling slowly, enjoying the sensation of fresh air hitting her nose. “It is a bit,” she replied with a soft nod. She walked forward to take a seat on the opposite side of the porch steps from the man. “Don’t mind me. I just need a second to compose myself. It all gets a bit much making sure people don’t go crazy in there all day.” She let out a soft laugh, looking out and spotting the rat not too far from them. Her eyes kept on it as it hunted for whatever debris of food it can find, and she found it amusing how similar humans acted nowadays, scrounging for any lick of food they could find, to the creatures they once seen as simply vermin. 

[caleb-day-blog]

DEADWEIGHT.

[angie--russo]

caleb-day‌:

Caleb had no goddamn clue what was happening — what happened. One second he was yelling at the boy with the daft name then he was under splintered wood and the heavyweight of an un—dead woman. Deadweight was a real thing, something he knew far too from experience. He fought her back until he put a bullet through her face. When she slumped over it almost felt like he couldn’t breathe. The boy had to help shift the body. Then the wood.

And… A shooting pain through his leg, starting below his right knee and slicing through his calf to the ankle. There was no blood but something inside must’ve gone awry. He couldn’t hide the pain from Clem when that boy had to literally carry the Deputy into the general store. 

So he hid himself away like a dog that knows it’s about to die finds a quiet spot to leave this world in peace. Caleb’s not so lucky. He woke up the next morning with a splitting headache and a useless leg. But he woke up, at least. He woke up the next day too, hungry but well-rested, and unwillingly to venture out for help or food. So, Caleb slept some more, even though it was the middle of the day.

On the third night, Caleb woke with a start. In a moment, he would realize exactly what startled him. He’d blame it on a bad dream, but they were commonplace, or he’d blame it on the shooting pain, but he was used to gritting his teeth and bearing it. It was a muffled lantern light that actually startled him awake.

“Fuckin’ piece a shit —” he grumbles and grunts. Eyes watery and furious as he bolts up then hunches over. He presses into his eyes like that’ll wake him up properly. Instead, it only delays the realization he’s not alone and someone’s come looking for something in the storeroom.

It seems his grave has been found. Caleb wants to crawl right into the ground. He clears his throat instead. Sits as upright as he can, a hand wandering to his thigh, massaging the soft part of his skin at the back of his knee.

 “Apologies —” he clears his throat. Looks around his squalid little corner, hidden like a stowaway in the store room. Caleb clears his throat again, tasting his own acrid breath from his empty belly. He ignores it. “What’re — You lookin’ for somethin’?”

There’d always been that place in Maggie’s heart that couldn’t refuse a child in need of her help, even when everyone else did. There weren’t many children left nowadays - most of them had succumb to the apocalypse; caught by a walker and eaten alive because they were too slow, or hid away too long away from everyone that they would die of dehydration or starvation. So when she’s awoken to the tugging of her dress by a tiny hand, she couldn’t help but pull herself from her make-shift bed made of rags in the general store the townsfolk currently resided in and turn her full attention to the wide, timid eyes in front of her.

The child was hungry. Starving. She hadn’t eaten for days, and even though Marguerite knew the food in town was rationed, she couldn’t say no to this desperate soul. She told the child to stay put before she headed into the storeroom with a dim lantern, but as she stepped through the door and stirred the sleeping figure in there, she nearly dropped it out of fright.

“Oh my—God! I’m so sorry, I didn’t even realise you were in here,” she exclaimed, her voice no louder than a heightened whisper as her subconscious knew to keep her quiet as to not wake any of the others up. She tried not to shine the light directly in the man’s face, but as she did she caught a glimpse of who it was. “Deputy Day? Are you okay?” Her eyes followed the man’s hand as he seemed to rub his leg as if it were uncomfortable. “Are you hurt? I was just getting some food for one of the kids... do you need help?” She couldn’t help her concern turning to him. He was one of the men the townsfolk were supposed to look up to and feel comfortable around, and she knew that some men in a position of authority, when they were injured or vulnerable, often refused the help of others; but this was the end of the world, and they needed as many people alive as possible at this point. 

[angie--russo]

the courtesan.