Monterey Bay Aquarium

oozey mess
d e v o n
will byers stan first human second
wallacepolsom
Sade Olutola

Discoholic đȘ©
NASA
Three Goblin Art

titsay
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
I'd rather be in outer space đž
KIROKAZE
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let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Aqua Utopiaïœæ”·ăźćșă§èšæ¶ă玥ă
Jules of Nature

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seen from China

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@hejyoufuck
A pierced eyebrow rose as I saw him standing there, my teeth catching hold of the metal pierced through my lower lip, "Who the fuck are you?"
Loki gave her a curious look. Not many would dare speak to him in such a manner and he found it⊠refreshing. âYou have approached me, have you not?â he said coolly. âIs it not customary amongst you mortals to at least offer salutation? No? I am Loki, of Asgard. And you are?â
He smirked as she spun the chair around and said dryly, âPlease, make yourself at home. I would hate to think I am denying you any sort of comfort.â
"Iâm sure you would," I answered, reaching for a cigarette in my jacket pocket. I let it sit between the firm line of my lips, my thumb running along the trigger of the lighter. I lit the tip of the cigarette before inhaling deeply and then releasing a cloud of smoke directly towards Lokiâs face. "For a while, I thought you might succeed in New York." I shrugged, "I havenât decided yet if it is good or bad that you didnât."
It was only in thanks to having been required to keep a neutral face that Loki resisted the urge to flinch back from the cloud of smoke. âYes, I had hoped to succeed as well. It would have been good, had I succeeded. A race made free from lifeâs greatest lie. What would have been so bad about that?â
My brow raised slightly before I inhaled another breath from the cigarette. When I exhaled, I answered bluntly, "I'm not a fan of following authority."
"I'm not going to live in America anymore," Iana said, her eyes bright, as if she had been waiting, pining to see her.
My brow rose slightly, "No?" With a wry sort of smile, I asked, "Where are you going to live?"
"Hello, beautiful," Iana said, her hands tucked into a warm coat, her newly sported short hair making her look like a lost pixie.
I smiled instantly. Ja, her hair was different, but I would know her face anywhere. Rocking back on my feet with the urge to come forward, I answered. "Hej."
Salander & Elphaba || Fucking Green
I heard it just before the glass door of the cafĂ© had closed behind me, Elphaba calling out for help. I straddled the seat of the bike, a scowl forming on my expression. As much as I wanted to peel down the street, weaving through traffic with the heat of adrenaline beneath my flesh, I couldnât. I sat there, my foot tapping impatiently in the wait for the woman to appear. The sun had dropped low by the time that happened, a bite to the air that was typical of a night in Stockholm. At the first sign of green, I called over to her, âHej.â The single word begged the question: what can I do?
Elphaba didnât have the proper currency for this world, which she found out the hard way and, pitying her (or maybe he thought she was psychotic and would put a gun to his head if he wasnât a little nice), the cashier/owner/whatever slid over the coffee she had ordered free of charge, to which she was grateful for. It was much later in the evening when she left the building, a plan having been formulated in between sips of the delicious coffeeâIt wasnât this good in Oz, not even in Shizâand she was so wrapped up in her thoughts she barely heard someone call out to her. Sheâd been in the process of snatching up the broom sheâd placed outside, leaning against the brick side of the cafĂ©. Looking up, she was pleasantly surprised to find Lisbeth there, perched atop some strange looking vehicle of sorts. Elphabaâs fingers curled around the handle of a broom, which she drew close. âI didnât realize you would stick around,â she admitted truthfully. It was rare for the Witch to call for help and even she had been revolted by such a notion, but denying the truth in such a situation wasnât worth it.
"This is not my home, whether you truly believe me or not, I donât care. I donât much have the time to sit about discussing such things. I donât recall how I got here specifically nor do I know how to return. I just need to know what this place is. Not thisâ this Sweden but the entire place. Is this the world Dorothy came from? Is there a Kansas anywhere near here? Also, is the author of that book you showed me around? I would like to wrap my hands around his neck.â
"I thought about leaving," I answered. There was a shrug. "I didn't." It seemed like you would be fucking lost if I had. "Sverige is a country," I deadpanned. "There is no Kansas here. That is in the country of Amerika." There was a beat of silence. "Which is across the ocean." I sighed, feeling outside of myself to explain these things that even a fucking four-year-old had grappled a hold of. But it felt important. To tell her these things. "L. Frank Baum is dead." It was obvious- her determination to find him. A look that I had seen reflected in the mirror many times. "He has been for ninety-four years." I shifted on the seat on of my bike abruptly, reaching for my helmet and placing it on. I started the engine, the purr of the engine steadying me somehow. I lifted the visor, eyes that had been concealed before now staring straight at her. "I'm going to go now. You can come if you want." I motioned for her to get on before the shade dropped again.
Salander & Elphaba || Fucking Green
Instinctively, my hands pulled the computer away from Elphaba, snapping it closed swiftly and bracing it tightly to my chest. I knew that look. She wanted to smash it into a million, tiny fucking pieces. I sat quietly for a few moments like that, surprised that her glare did not succeed in burning holes through my MacBook. Even the dumbest fuck in Sweden would see that I had upset her. I frowned, shifting uncomfortably. I was unable to look at her for the first time since she entered the cafĂ©. âThe witch was always my favorite.â My eyes wandered back to her, grating the metal through my lower lip along the blunt edges of my teeth for what must have beeb the hundredth fucking time. âNo. You donât look like her.â I released a heavy sigh, my brow furrowing. âYou are beautiful.â I shrugged, my weight shifting against the left side of the chair. I sure as fuck did not know about any wizard, did not believe in any wizard, but she did. I did not know what else to say except: âIâm sorryâŠâ I began to pack my things, tossing my laptop unceremoniously into its black, leather case before standing up, slinging the bag over my shoulder. âI hope you find what you are looking for.â I did hope she would find her way home, wherever the fuck that might be. In a second, I was walking through double doors and climbing onto the back of my Honda.
It wasnât Lisbeth she was upset with. No, hardly. She was angry at the person who had made such a book, angry with the blatant lies told just on the coverâwho knew what lies nestled within!âshe hardly had time to stop and be much offended over the way they portrayed her, at least physically. The name of the author sprang into her mind, though it was foggy and likely off by a letter or two, and puffing her chest up her path before he seemed to become clearer. Getting home right now wasnât a priority. Sheâd find the man who had written such a tale and sheâd strangle him. Maybe heâd know how to get her home, since it was obvious heâd visited there if he knew so much. An interrogation of information and then sheâd strangle him, yes.
The frustrated features from before had slid away and were replaced with a malicious yet pleased look, a grin breaking out onto her face. She hardly noticed Lisbeth was leaving until she heard those departing words, at which Elphabaâs eyes widened and she twisted in her seat to try and yell out after the woman, âWait! I need your help still!â
But it was far too late. Defeated, the Witch slumped in her seat and silently mulled over everything she needed to do in the coming days.
I heard it just before the glass door of the café had closed behind me, Elphaba calling out for help. I straddled the seat of the bike, a scowl forming on my expression. As much as I wanted to peel down the street, weaving through traffic with the heat of adrenaline beneath my flesh, I couldn't. I sat there, my foot tapping impatiently in the wait for the woman to appear. The sun had dropped low by the time that happened, a bite to the air that was typical of a night in Stockholm. At the first sign of green, I called over to her, "Hej." The single word begged the question: what can I do?
Salander & Elphaba || Fucking Green
If she wasnât revolted before, she was now, her body convulsing as she withdrew sharply away from the [strange] device on the table before her. After a second, she settled and returned her gaze to the screen, though the gritted teeth and disgusted expression upon her face remained. âThe wonderful wizard?!â Was her first exclamation, appalled at the notion of such a crazed psychopath being called wonderful. Was that bile crawling up her throat? She suppressed it.
To add to it, the image of the pointed looking, vile, ugly thing that was supposed to be her was all the worse. âI do not look like that! How dare they! Who made this?! Whose idea was it to take such nonsense and lies and make it into a story for children?â She wished this device was the actual book, for she had a sudden urge to rip it apart. To refrain from smashing the tablet, she pushed it away from her (after tucking away her questions as to what that thing even was and how it worked). âThe wizard of Oz is no wonder, he is not majestic beauty, he is no savior. Heâs a rotten scoundrel, a bloodthirsty tyrant who dropped from the sky in some stupid hot air balloon one day and took over the land like it was his. Heâs a filthy, no good, disgusting dictator and Iâm shocked someone would dare pass off the old man and his actions as âwonderfulâ.â
She huffed in her fury and leaned back in her chair, releasing the skirt of her dress so she could fold her arms over her chest and fume in silence.
Instinctively, my hands pulled the computer away from Elphaba, snapping it closed swiftly and bracing it tightly to my chest. I knew that look. She wanted to smash it into a million, tiny fucking pieces. I sat quietly for a few moments like that, surprised that her glare did not succeed in burning holes through my MacBook. Even the dumbest fuck in Sweden would see that I had upset her. I frowned, shifting uncomfortably. I was unable to look at her for the first time since she entered the café. "The witch was always my favorite." My eyes wandered back to her, grating the metal through my lower lip along the blunt edges of my teeth for what must have beeb the hundredth fucking time. "No. You don't look like her." I released a heavy sigh, my brow furrowing. "You are beautiful." I shrugged, my weight shifting against the left side of the chair. I sure as fuck did not know about any wizard, did not believe in any wizard, but she did. I did not know what else to say except: "I'm sorry..." I began to pack my things, tossing my laptop unceremoniously into its black, leather case before standing up, slinging the bag over my shoulder. "I hope you find what you are looking for." I did hope she would find her way home, wherever the fuck that might be. In a second, I was walking through double doors and climbing onto the back of my Honda.
Salander & Elphaba || Fucking Green
She was debating the offer, that much was obvious. I smirked as Elphaba unwrinkled her skirt, the movement cautious somehow. The smirk grew when she was quickly slumped back into her chair, my brow raising even further. âYou are lost to ask that,â I deadpanned. The understatement of the fucking century. The words were not cruel, but they were to the point- no bullshit. âStockholm- as in SwedenâŠâ My gaze became wary at the mention of Oz. Is she fucking serious? She seemed to have been. I stared at her firmly enough that, if she had been lying, the truth would have followed almost instantly. With a humorless expression, I reached for my coffee, bringing it up to my lips for a drag before placing it down. âThe only Oz I know of comes from a childrenâs story.â
Ja. A childrenâs story with a green witch as the villainâŠ
Sweden? Stockholm? It was difficult keeping the confusion out of her face, but she knew this information was vital to her return to Oz, wherever it lay now. The less detailed questions she asked, the more likely she was to get to the straightforward answers that would help her more in the long run, or so she desperately hoped. She supposed now was a good time to panic and she admittedly noted that there was a trickle of paranoia coursing through her veins.
Lisbethâs final statement was the shock of them all, though, and Elphaba caught herself before she managed to choke on her own spit mid-swallow. Her eyes widened and she was torn between laughing and feeling revolted. Oz was a childrenâs story in this world? She wasnât sure what part was more blasphemous: the fact that Oz was a story in this world or the fact it was a story told to children. Her own personal experience of living on the land of Oz was not pleasant and she knew many others there would readily agree. It was not something to be spun into a tale. She found her hands gripping the skirt of her dress rather tightly but she made no move to loosen her grip. âIt must not be the same Oz then,â Elphie muttered, tone unusually calm despite the emotions stirring within her. âThe Oz I hail from is not the kind of place to be turned into a childrenâs story.â
Somehow, she doubted her words. How many Ozâs were there?
Without a word, I reached for my laptop case slung around the back of the chair. Chewing on the metal pierced through my lower lip- a nervous tick- I unzipped the case and pulled out my MacBook Pro 13" and placed it down on the table top beside my coffee. Quick fingers ran along the keyboard, my eyes still fixed on the woman in front of me. Less than 15 seconds later, I was turning the screen to face Elphaba, a search engine brought up on the display, searching for results under "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz." Green eyes did not flinch as they took in every detail of her expression. Sure, there was a possibility that she was mentally unstable, or possibly lying her ass off, but- there was something I saw in her that no amount of acting classes could fake so perfectly, the dilation of her pupils to a state of shock. Either she was psychotic, or else she was serious. "I never read it," I broke the silence. "But I know the tale well enough..." My teeth clacked along the bar between them as I grew a bit more anxious. "There is a witch in it." My voice was barely heard then. "She is green." I pointed to the images on the screen, provided by stills of the 1939 film, "Here she is in the movie."
Salander & Elphaba || Fucking Green
It was even stranger how she reacted to Stockholm, a sort of shock flashing within her gaze. It was obvious that she was a tourist here, painfully so, but then most visitors intended to be here- planned it- they did not have a look like that. It was just fucking weird. âElphaba?â I repeated, the sound foreign to me, my accent weighted heavily on the word. The name seemed as though it could have come right from the fucking Dark Ages. It was different. It was sophisticated. I gave a small smile. I liked it. I nodded when she spoke up again, âFor me, too.â I looked over to the table behind her before shuffling towards it and attempting to clear some of the paperwork scattered across the top. I was thorough, not neat. âWould you like to sit?â I took the chair that I had when she came in, this time flipping it around so that the back of it was facing me. I straddled the seat easily, gesturing for her to take the unoccupied space.
Elphaba found herself smoothing the front of her plain black dress, likely a nervous tic she felt the need to carry out all of sudden. It wasnât at all like her to be so prim and proper, yet it was the best she could think of in attempts to busy her hands. Part of her wanted to decline the offer to sit so she could head out to get to know this land a little better and, hopefully, return to Oz, but another part resisted. It was the latter that won out and made her slip over to the empty seat set in front of Lisbeth. A quick glance to the woman and she noticed how informal and casual she sat, almost as if she were a man. Was that common here, too? Elphie herself plopped down rather ungracefully with a little whump and turned her sharp gaze back to the other. âSo this Stockholm is located where, precisely?â She ventured forth again, though hesitantly as she recalled the strange look sheâd gotten from Lisbeth. âIt is not in or near a place called Oz by any chance, is it?â
She was debating the offer, that much was obvious. I smirked as Elphaba unwrinkled her skirt, the movement cautious somehow. The smirk grew when she was quickly slumped back into her chair, my brow raising even further. "You are lost to ask that," I deadpanned. The understatement of the fucking century. The words were not cruel, but they were to the point- no bullshit. "Stockholm- as in Sweden..." My gaze became wary at the mention of Oz. Is she fucking serious? She seemed to have been. I stared at her firmly enough that, if she had been lying, the truth would have followed almost instantly. With a humorless expression, I reached for my coffee, bringing it up to my lips for a drag before placing it down. "The only Oz I know of comes from a children's story."
Ja. A children's story with a green witch as the villain...
"If you touch me Iâll more than alarm you." - The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2011)
Salander & Elphaba || Fucking Green
The way her eyes glanced curiously at my face- there was something different about it. There was no disgust written on her features, only a certain interest there. It was almost as if she had never seen piercings before. My brow raised only slightly with the thought. Okej. I shrugged when she spoke, answering, âI am sure you are.â My gaze took her in from head to toe, my head tilting up slightly to meet the line of her sight. âYou are unique.â The words were not cutting, they were blunt. I observed silently as she shifted. I could understand her somehow, this woman with the green skin. She was mistreated. She wasâŠâŠ. Beautiful. My brow furrowed at that thought. The word was rarely in my vocabulary.
I chewed at the metal ring staked through my lower lip at her question, contemplating whether or not she was serious or else just fucking with me. Another glance at her made the decision. âStockholm,â I provided. My teeth stopped tugging at the metal there, âIâm Lisbeth.â I exhaled, feeling a bit sheepish. She did not ask, but⊠I told her anyway. What the fuck, Salander?
Unique was a strange term, but she accepted it nonetheless with a slightly larger smile, one bereft of that painful look to it. This one was an actual,meaningful smile.
"Stockholm," she repeated, as if that would somehow make the word, this place, seem more familiar. It didnât. There was no Stockholm she knew of in Oz and the more she thought of it the more the term âStockholm Syndromeâ appeared in her mind, which she was quite certain was just a term and not also a real place. She wasnât in Oz. She wasnât anywhere near Oz. Glinda always said she was a paranoid individual, but Elphie guessed that now was as good a time as ever to be paranoid. Despite this, she found herself acting unusually calm, any anxious thoughts in her mind having been stilled. This, she supposed, was better than panicking.
"Iâm Elphaba," she replied, choosing not to use her usual titles ("Thropp Third Descending of Nest Hardings") as Lisbeth didnât use any such titles. Was it normal for people here not to do such a thing? Or did Lisbeth just not have a title indicting her birth and family? It seemed rude to ask and she figured it would place more odd attention on herself that she didnât need. ââTis a pleasure."
It was even stranger how she reacted to Stockholm, a sort of shock flashing within her gaze. It was obvious that she was a tourist here, painfully so, but then most visitors intended to be here- planned it- they did not have a look like that. It was just fucking weird. "Elphaba?" I repeated, the sound foreign to me, my accent weighted heavily on the word. The name seemed as though it could have come right from the fucking Dark Ages. It was different. It was sophisticated. I gave a small smile. I liked it. I nodded when she spoke up again, "For me, too." I looked over to the table behind her before shuffling towards it and attempting to clear some of the paperwork scattered across the top. I was thorough, not neat. "Would you like to sit?" I took the chair that I had when she came in, this time flipping it around so that the back of it was facing me. I straddled the seat easily, gesturing for her to take the unoccupied space.
Salander & Elphaba || Fucking Green
Sharp orbs were fixed firmly on the asshole in question, a sense of recognition flickering there for a moment. Fucking photographic memory: I never forgot a face- especially one that I had been surveying for the past few weeks. Johan Gustafsson. As of now, he worked nights at a restaurant not far off from Götgatan, but he was applying for a position with Milton, so, naturally, Armanskij asked me to poke around- make sure he was clean enough to be affiliated with the company name. His file through the restaurantâs database suggested that he was a hard worker- one recommended or else requested often by many of the regulars there. He made a decent salary, too, not including the money that he made from tips alone. He seemed, by all accounts, an upstanding kind of guy. I might have thought so as well- until I got a good look at his laptop.
It was pitiful, really, his attempt to encrypt his dirty little secret, a four digit attempt to throw off prying eyes that merely consisted of his date of birth. Yeah, really fucking original, asshole. It made my job easier, at least. Even if it had been harder to guess, I still could have easily installed a key logger and simply surveyed his keystrokes for a few moments before the answer was likely to appear- but that wasnât necessary. As I said before: this fucker wasnât all that creative. Typing in his the numeric variation of his birthdate- 290776- I found it. His stash of child porn. Some of it was innocent enough, and some of it was downright sadistic. I had been reviewing his file just before now, too, ready to hand it in to Dragan and suggest that, not only the man not be hired, but that he be put in jail. If he couldnât be put in jail, considering the nature of my investigation, then I sure as fuck was going to keep tabs on him all on my own. If he ever thought to physically harm a young girl, he would be looking down the business end of a major shit storm. I still did have that dildo from Bjurmanâs lesson, after all. Sure, when Mimmi and I fucked, Iâd never think to recycle the toy with another woman, but- for these two bastards- they could share AIDS for all I fucking cared. They made me sick.
I stepped between the two of them silently, sneering up at him. I may have been shorter than the fucker by a good two feet, but there was no way Iâd let him get the best of me. âYou should leave now,â I told him bluntly. âYou donât want to cause a scene.â Youâd sure make one with 50,000 volts to the jugular. He seemed pissed, his little prick not able to cope with being threatened by a ball of muscle and metal piercings, but I didnât give a fuck. Only when he walked out of the cafĂ© did I turn to face the young woman, mirroring the small, wry smile that rested on her lips with my own. I could see it in her eyes, the same look I would have given someone if they had done the same. I donât need your help. But still, I found myself asking, âAre you okej?â
There was still that pit of gratefulness stuck within the confines of her chest and by now the annoyance had been replaced with amusement at the woman and the way the man reacted to her order. Back in Oz, no one stuck up for her. Glinda had proven that back in their days at Shiz when she consistently talked smack about the Witch behind her back to her little group of gossiping friends. To Elphabaâs face, she was decent, civil, sometimes nicer than usual. So it was a nice change to see another willingly stand up to her and it reminded her of her own attempts to stand up for Animals.
When the stranger turned, Elphie found her eyes raking over her face, studying the piercing dotted here and there on her face, something the Witch hadnât ever seen before but found aesthetically pleasing nonetheless. There was something different about this woman than all the others she had seen thus farâthough that didnât mean much as sheâd seen very little people on her way hereâand she found herself intrigued and curious. Perhaps this woman was as much of a misfit as she. That was enough to spark her interest and also to reply to her question nicer than she had originally planned. âOf course. Iâm used to it, it hardly bothers me anymore,â she stated and, after a momentâs hesitation, decided to add, âThank you, nonetheless. Itâs very strange to have another, ah, stand up for me.â
The act of thanking another seemed uncomfortable to her, evident by the way she shifted. âCould you perhaps tell me where I am?â May as well take advantage of this womanâs attention while she could. She seemed friendly enough and if Elphaba could get as much information from her as possible then perhaps she could return home faster than she thought.
The way her eyes glanced curiously at my face- there was something different about it. There was no disgust written on her features, only a certain interest there. It was almost as if she had never seen piercings before. My brow raised only slightly with the thought. Okej. I shrugged when she spoke, answering, "I am sure you are." My gaze took her in from head to toe, my head tilting up slightly to meet the line of her sight. "You are unique." The words were not cutting, they were blunt. I observed silently as she shifted. I could understand her somehow, this woman with the green skin. She was mistreated. She was....... Beautiful. My brow furrowed at that thought. The word was rarely in my vocabulary.
I chewed at the metal ring staked through my lower lip at her question, contemplating whether or not she was serious or else just fucking with me. Another glance at her made the decision. "Stockholm," I provided. My teeth stopped tugging at the metal there, "I'm Lisbeth." I exhaled, feeling a bit sheepish. She did not ask, but... I told her anyway. What the fuck, Salander?
Erzsébet/Lisbeth || I'm So Sick
Human? No shit. âEveryone knows that cigarettes are bad for you,â I stated bluntly. I came closer to the woman then, a scowl fixed on my expression, âWho do you think you are? You donât know me.â But I knew her, a damned creep masquerading as some vision of righteousness. Utter fucking bullshit. âAnd donât fuck with me.â Beautiful? My scowl deepened at the thought. Salander and beauty, what a fucking joke.
If The Countess recalled, she removed herself from the company of the female for she was not one to entertain her. Nay, this female provoked annoyance and not one to be tolerated this evening. âYes, for it appears you are a woman who does not partake in removing herself from company even after I was the one to remove myself.â The Countess parted the pages of her tome, recalling where she last observed her passage. âDid I state I wanted to rut you? Nay, I did not.â
"I'm not leaving," I stated firmly, a brooding stare focused solely upon her. "You'll just do something stupid when my back is turned." Stupid was the understatement of the fucking century where the murder of young girls was concerned. "And I was not talking about rutting." My gaze was uncompromising, "Don't bullshit me. Better?"
A pierced eyebrow rose as I saw him standing there, my teeth catching hold of the metal pierced through my lower lip, "Who the fuck are you?"
Loki gave her a curious look. Not many would dare speak to him in such a manner and he found it⊠refreshing. âYou have approached me, have you not?â he said coolly. âIs it not customary amongst you mortals to at least offer salutation? No? I am Loki, of Asgard. And you are?â
He smirked as she spun the chair around and said dryly, âPlease, make yourself at home. I would hate to think I am denying you any sort of comfort.â
"I'm sure you would," I answered, reaching for a cigarette in my jacket pocket. I let it sit between the firm line of my lips, my thumb running along the trigger of the lighter. I lit the tip of the cigarette before inhaling deeply and then releasing a cloud of smoke directly towards Loki's face. "For a while, I thought you might succeed in New York." I shrugged, "I haven't decided yet if it is good or bad that you didn't."
Salander & Elphaba || Fucking Green
I sat at the cafĂ© a few blocks from Lundagatan, listlessly nursing a cup of coffee while thumbing through my latest report for Dragan when- a single pierced brow arched: green. The woman who came through the door was green. Some people pointed, some even shrunk back, but when a man seemed to think it was a good idea to insult her, the wood from my chair slid back firmly against the tiles of the floor. I couldnât stand any man who would act like this one, and I was quickly found myself wanting to remove anything that might deem him a man. âHej,â I spoke up, coming closer to the pair, scowling at the bastard. âFuck off.â
She is fucking green, not an animal.
Elphaba had no inclination of where she was, not in the slightest. The unfamiliar surroundings seemed like a stranger with only basic features she recognized, like a nose and a mouth and two eyes. The clothing was different, the smells were different, even the architectureâsomething she never took much interest in unlike Glindaâwas vastly different in many aspects. Panic, though, she did not. In time sheâd figure out where she was and from there decide the proper way to return home, if such a thing even existed for her.
The café (one of the semi-familiar things around here) seemed the most suitable option to figure out where she was and that was how she managed to slip inside, keeping her head held high as she moved about in search of an empty seat. The reactions to her skin were not something she was unused to, not in the slightest, which was both a blessing and a curse in such a case as it was terrible for anyone to suddenly become used to judgement and insults. It was a blessing because it meant they never bothered her. So even the nasty remark from a nearby man was waved off, not literally speaking, but was responded to with a sharp look from her chocolate eyes. If she planned to respond, she was unable to as suddenly someone else piped up, speaking in an accent that was unfamiliar and foreign but not difficult too understand.
For a second, Elphie thought the statement was towards her, but she rechecked and realized it was not. The stranger was sticking up for her, which was odd to the Witch. She was torn between being grateful and being insulted, as she was perfectly capable of standing up for herself and didnât need others doing it for her.
Still, one corner of her mouth twitched into a tiny, thankful smile that looked almost as if it was a painful expression for her.
Sharp orbs were fixed firmly on the asshole in question, a sense of recognition flickering there for a moment. Fucking photographic memory: I never forgot a face- especially one that I had been surveying for the past few weeks. Johan Gustafsson. As of now, he worked nights at a restaurant not far off from Götgatan, but he was applying for a position with Milton, so, naturally, Armanskij asked me to poke around- make sure he was clean enough to be affiliated with the company name. His file through the restaurant's database suggested that he was a hard worker- one recommended or else requested often by many of the regulars there. He made a decent salary, too, not including the money that he made from tips alone. He seemed, by all accounts, an upstanding kind of guy. I might have thought so as well- until I got a good look at his laptop.
It was pitiful, really, his attempt to encrypt his dirty little secret, a four digit attempt to throw off prying eyes that merely consisted of his date of birth. Yeah, really fucking original, asshole. It made my job easier, at least. Even if it had been harder to guess, I still could have easily installed a key logger and simply surveyed his keystrokes for a few moments before the answer was likely to appear- but that wasn't necessary. As I said before: this fucker wasn't all that creative. Typing in his the numeric variation of his birthdate- 290776- I found it. His stash of child porn. Some of it was innocent enough, and some of it was downright sadistic. I had been reviewing his file just before now, too, ready to hand it in to Dragan and suggest that, not only the man not be hired, but that he be put in jail. If he couldn't be put in jail, considering the nature of my investigation, then I sure as fuck was going to keep tabs on him all on my own. If he ever thought to physically harm a young girl, he would be looking down the business end of a major shit storm. I still did have that dildo from Bjurman's lesson, after all. Sure, when Mimmi and I fucked, I'd never think to recycle the toy with another woman, but- for these two bastards- they could share AIDS for all I fucking cared. They made me sick.
I stepped between the two of them silently, sneering up at him. I may have been shorter than the fucker by a good two feet, but there was no way I'd let him get the best of me. "You should leave now," I told him bluntly. "You don't want to cause a scene." You'd sure make one with 50,000 volts to the jugular. He seemed pissed, his little prick not able to cope with being threatened by a ball of muscle and metal piercings, but I didn't give a fuck. Only when he walked out of the café did I turn to face the young woman, mirroring the small, wry smile that rested on her lips with my own. I could see it in her eyes, the same look I would have given someone if they had done the same. I don't need your help. But still, I found myself asking, "Are you okej?"