after-out-of-place

[after-out-of-place]

#mmnmm #aoop: duck sanctuary #*this is very canon to the Duck Sanctuary*

[after-out-of-place]

Slick Soliloquy

Today was supposed to be different. The name's Grr'glegolyb - though most folks call me Bubble-Glub. I intentionally ended up deep below the surface of San Bearino. What's not intentional is being in the back of a rail maintenance vehicle, with the windows smashed and the lights turned off - think those got damaged by the same thing that caused the tunnel behind us to collapse. The windows sure were. This ain't exactly the kind of situation an ex-bartender slash musician slash manager slash impromptu duck whisperer would find themselves in on any day - hell, the least strange thing about today is having DD in my lap, her arms around my waist and her head on my shoulder. ******

The day began in 'Our Place': it's a quiet coffee corner, doing its Sunday best to blend a dark academic vibe with dark roasted coffee beans. At least that's my take on it. I ain't much a morning person, but the familiarity of the two lovebirds running the place gives me time to reflect on my own life in the present. That, and a cup of coffee so strong you practically have to wrestle the liquid in the hopes of it giving you the boost you're looking for. It's just how I like it.

All of the crew were around that morning. Dee had some time after dropping her sister off at the University - Dee's been sticky with me ever since the whole thing with CC happened - not that I'm complaining, as both a slime-folk and her main squeeze. It did make the events of that morning far more bitter than the coffee I'd been wrestling with, however: she wasn't supposed to see me like that - hell, none of 'em were. It still strikes me as odd to have folks care so deeply; to have them look further than skin-deep and not recoiling once they do.

The new advertisement on the billboard outside hurt in all kinds of ways, with the sort of sickly buzzing neon letters usually reserved for a dive bar making sure every man, woman, in-between and beyond be aware of the Mūci|agenIX - "a mall of the ages past, present and future!" - with the new location being in an old district of San Bearino. That's in my old stomping grounds, as it were. I hadn't been there in ages, but the idea of some slick CEO bulldozing a slice of history like that made me sick to my soul. I had to go there. Alone. I'm the kinda person who deals with their own mess in their own time, always have been, and the way my composure slipped that morning like a slick porcelain cup from between my fingers to shatter on the cold floor below still bothers me.

I didn't tell 'em the why. It's a personal matter, the kind of trouble reserved for only one pair of shoulders to carry. But as it turns out, if the person with the most chill suddenly loses it all from looking at a bright neon sign, it doesn't jive with any of the crew. I could tell it bothered Dee the most - we'd been working on some things, together, but I'm not ready to make those slender shoulders do any heavy lifting after what happened back on her home turf. I know deep down that DD can handle herself, it ain't her I'm the most worried about.

None of them budged: I'd asked them repeatedly whether they'd want to hang back and sit this one out. Wallace had the shortest, most clear answer: a swiftly raised pair of middle fingers. He's a clever kid, knows I'm used to talking to birds.

Still hadn't told them the why. They'd stopped asking once I finally led them out there and to an old access tunnel to the underground. Or rather, they never asked - I told them it was a personal thing and they respected that boundary. In all the years I've been around I didn't stop to think that sort of trust existed, let alone between the most eclectic bunch of folks I've had the pleasure of being friends with. Not that yours truly ain't an odd duck, themselves.

I retraced my steps through the old stomping grounds, and under them. Muscle memory, for as far as that carries one such as myself. Plenty of memories to go off of, some more faded than others. Forgotten memories make way for new ones - much like new life, plant and otherwise, growing under the threat of becoming corporate sludge trapped under a new mall. To that extent, turns out the ratfolk had been busy with corpo sabotage, delaying the mall being built - they're good folk, similar interests to mine outside of music. They ain't much for jazz. Or the band in general. We'd have been at a impasse if it hadn't been for the note from … Well. That's personal. ******

I'd have called the rail maintenance vehicle a blessing in disguise - but it'd have been left to rot if it'd just been myself. Also happens to be that more than one machine down underground still had juice in it. I should've figured, that green glow didn't match mine. That mechanical squid thing must've been built to level the place from the inside-out - it sure tried. The only thing it got good was the vehicle. Deep down I'm glad none of the band sat this one out. I guess I'd call them all a blessing in their own right: they've all got their unique merits. Turns out that both Wallace and Sila can damn near drive anything that moves; Chritty's resourceful as all hell; Horace continues being the best button-pusher this side of San Bearino; and DD … DD's got one hell of a set of vocal chords on her (It's one of her better features, but admittedly not the one I pay the most attention to).

If neither of them had been around, chances are I'd not be in the back of this vehicle. Sure, the lights are off. Sure, the windows are smashed and there's glass all over the place. And yeah, the tunnel behind us collapsed under the weight of a mechanical monstrosity dumb enough to smash the very tunnel it's in. But DD's in my lap, her arms around my waist and her head on my shoulder. The band's all here.

#mmnmm #after out of place #AOoP: Bubble-Glub #*this post is best enjoyed with a cup of coffee and jazz noir*

[after-out-of-place]

Prologue: Out Of Place After Dark

For all it was worth, which did not seem like a lot from the outside, the bar going by the name of 'Out Of Place' was a typical dive bar in San Bearino: hardly any advertisement; a single neon sign out front; no real food but light snack-food (the pretzels were overly salty to sell more drinks); and a frightening amount of branded alcoholic beverages mostly being sold at a price which seemed like you were practically stealing from the place.

What truly set the Out Of Place apart, however, was its absolute commitment to presenting guests with an extremely noisy aesthetic - a cacophony of anachronistic visuals (a cacorama, if you will) - made up out of several types of neon lighting; a wind-up grandfather clock; a coin-operated jukebox; saloon doors and at least one marble statue wearing tacky sunglasses. (There had been shag carpeting on parts of the wall at one point, but it had been deemed a 'fire hazard, what were you thinking', and thus it got replaced by two thick layers of paint and a rather gaudy piece of graffiti artwork depicting a facsimile of the building inspector with an extra set of horns. It begrudgingly got approved.) In addition to all of that, there was a small raised stage in the back, barely big enough for a six-man band.

It's here that Bubble-Glub found that they were the most at home and had been working in for a good number of years now: the owner hadn't been fussy about hiring them, even joking that their cold hands would be beneficial for serving drinks, and allowed them to keep their tips in addition to the payment (which was a living wage, but how much life does one truly have running late shifts?). Not the worst job; not the worst aesthetics Bubble-Glub had ever seen in their life; and most patrons didn't seem to care about anything as long as their glasses were full and their voices heard. The 'Out Of Place' had charm, somehow. ******

A good, strong while had gone by without major events, save for patrons in need of a lesson or two in what constitutes 'proper conduct' and a frankly bizarre string of events which led to a tab being paid off with a single coin; a pair of dice and a firm handshake - though outside of that, one event in particular did liven up the place: when DD entered the Out Of Place for the first time, and for whatever reason decided to keep coming back.

DD's dive into the Out Of Place had not gone unnoticed, to say the least, and neither had her leaving with particular guests with large tabs they could've easily paid off but never bothered to. Some nights, however, she had stuck around until closing time - and afterwards. At first it seemed like she forgot to read the time, but as the long time and nights passed the two hit it off relatively well and it became 'sort of their thing': Bubble-Glub would go through the motions of closing down and cleaning up, DD not being allowed to help out with the smaller chores even if she would have wanted to. "It's a liability thing." said Bubble-Glub, "Plus, those long nails ain't helping." "Well, don't think I didn't notice the free drinks." "On the house. I decide what my tips are for." "Pff."

****** The nights passed into whiles, passing into weeks and into stretches of time fewer than half a decade but definitely longer than a year - time seemed to pass differently in the Out Of Place, or maybe that's simply what good company does to people. DD had come in later than usual and had decided to stick around until after closing time, leaving Bubble-Glub to strike up casual conversation without the radio or other people interrupting. "Sharp eyes can't help but notice the angles at which you're sitting. Shoulder hurt?" "Eh. Long night." "There's also plasters on your fingers. What's going on?" "You're not allowed to ask that." was her response. Even if they hadn't meant it, it was rather rude of them to inquire about what a lady's fingers had been busy with this evening, she decided. "Hey, if something's up I gotta know." "Fine," she rolled her eyes. "I've been learning bass. Make sense now?" "Ah, yeah, that tracks." Bubble-Glub started stacking some of the chairs to make sweeping the floor easier for themselves. Their bioluminescent glow mixed poorly with the neon lights. "Oh dang, guess that means the lady's jamming now?" "And what if I am?" she hopped off the bar-stool. "Hey, there's a stage here. It's quiet. Ain't nobody judging." "You." "I wouldn't dare."

#mmnmm #snippet #AOoP: Out Of Place #*hey look it's the bar the band is named after*

[after-out-of-place]

DD - Out Of Place

DD was sitting in her little cubby behind the scenes of the club. Tonight was exhausting, and her body felt sore. She couldn't wait to wash all those dirty fingerprints off her. A sigh left her lips as her coworker came in. "Yo, DD, did you hear about this new place?" DD looked up at her in the mirror. "It’s gonna be the new hottest place around, at least that's what they say. It's going to be bear themed? It seems the owner has a soft spot for them ever since-" DD tuned her out, that sounded like more work, and she was done for tonight. She got up, grabbing her necessities. As the hot water came over her, she began scrubbing away at her skin. No matter how much she showered before, during or after her work, she was always feeling dirty. She really needed an out, but what could she do? She couldn't read, write, or really do much else. Not only that, but she was good at ‘serving’ people in all types of ways. That's what she knew and could keep a safe emotional distance from. Most creatures were filthy, not much to redeem themselves with but the money in their pocket. It felt a lot like home in that sense, only this time she got to keep the money. "So what's it gonna be DD? You gonna join us to the club after work?" DD snapped back to where she was, seeing her skin slightly red from the scrubbing. "No, I'm not going." "Always the Ice Queen, huh?"

DD stepped out, wrapping herself in a towel. She stared at the clothing she had gathered here in the back. The owner let her keep it here, for some small favors in return. Her favourite bodysuit was slowly falling apart, it had served her well on the streets, but the ratty piece of clothing was too much to hide from potential customers. Another sigh and the bodysuit left its hanger and landed in the trash. Now what? Her eyes went to a little Blue dress she just got as a gift from a client. It might do the trick. Putting it on and giving herself a small once over, she left out the back, right as more coworkers came in. Wandering the streets, driving towards no goal at all, hearing the whistles of strangers she would rather not meet. It was then when a slightly blinking neon light caught her eyes. She hadn't seen it before, then again she was normally still working at this hour. Slowly, she stopped near the sign. ‘Out of place’. Well ain't that the invite she needed. Maybe it would give her a better clientele as well, wouldn't hurt to try. DD opened the door only to be greeted by a statue looking at her from behind the jukebox, playing a slightly odd tune. Making her way to the bar, seeing the people here and made sure to be seen if needed. When she laid her eyes on the bartender, ready to get her mocktail, she was silently taken aback by their skin colour. It was really similar to hers, as was their way of dressing, familiar to the way they did back home. Maybe she wasn't that alone after all? It’s when they said: ‘You look like you ain’t from ‘round here’ she let the fleeting hope go.

#mmnmm #snippet #Before After Out Of Place #Who Made This: DD's Player #*I've created paragraphs - line breaks - bolds and italics while correcting only minor spelling errors. It is otherwise presented as-is*

[after-out-of-place]

Epilogue - They Don’t Know (Pt.3)

Rubber ducks were an odd phenomenon in this world. Sure, children loved to pretend to see them all the time and people kept them as lawn ornaments: sitting near ponds; wearing hats; guarding vegetable patches and the like, but they were largely considered mythological and at best 'plausible'. The most commonly believed folklore placed the "Duck" as a mythological creature responsible for clean sanitation, the growth of crops and their laughter was said capable of creating earthquakes - but nobody had ever actually seen one alive, and considering illustrations of them closely resemble geese, the "Duck" had largely been considered pure fiction.

But here Bubble-Glub and Horace stood, both of them leaning forward against a hip-high wooden fence, overlooking an artificial pond while in conversation with a placid; purple; rubber duck by the name of Marcie. Marcie had climbed up on the side of the pond, her little webbed feet making careful 'plap, plap, plap' noises as she paraded herself around for Horace. "I have feet!", Marcie quacked, squeaking happily, "Two! They help me walk and swim." "I know how to swim," said Horace, "but I use my arms too." "But you have feet as well? Why only use your arms?" "Uh, I mean I don't just use my arms, you use your whole body." Horace tried to explain in further detail, but quickly found himself explaining the concept of swimming as humanoid.. to a duck. Despite his surprisingly impressive knowledge on the sport, Marcie could only look at him quizzically through the whole ordeal. She then shifted the topic back to herself for a while, explaining her vast knowledge on ducks - or rather one duck in particular: Marcie. "And I have wings!", Marcie concluded. She then demonstrated her use of them briefly before exiting the little pond area, quacking a tiny goodbye and leaving Horace with a rather good feeling of what a real duck looks like.

"So, uh, has purple become like, your whole thing? Because I might have to change the posters..", Horace asked not long after Marcie left. He'd noticed DD dressed in royal purple today and Bubble-Glub would usually wear similar colors to complement their green appearance - and Marcie happened to be purple as well. Bubble-Glub reassured him that, no, purple wasn't 'their whole thing' and it happened to be rather circumstantial. Horace turned around, leaning back against the fence instead. "So, like, how hard is it to run your own business?" "I'm a ex-bartender and currently musician, bub. You've more experience being your own boss." "As a swimming instructor? Or? I mean, I guess coffee is a liquid too, just like water?" "Only if you brew it wrong." replied Bubble-Glub, nodding. Horace took a moment to determine it was meant humorously, but then laughed wholeheartedly. "Okay, but if purple isn't your thing, what's with the style? Like, you both look good in whatever you're wearing right now, but I don't think ducks would like suits?" "Oh." Bubble-Glub fell silent for a moment, thinking. "DD wanted to be extra presentable today." "Yeah, but how about you?" "Gotta match Dee, don't I?" "But you're always dressed like that, though, so isn't she matching you instead?"

Horace, for as simple as he seemed sometimes, hit right on target. Bubble-Glub generally liked to dress snappy, even when just being at home. Today was a day for dress pants and a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled most of the way up, the top few buttons left undone so their skin could breathe better. They preferred wearing suits - not out of wanting to be formal, but because they made them look capable; respectable. Therein lied the rub, or at least in Bubble-Glub's perception. It took a while before they answered, mulling over what words to use before ultimately deciding that Horace wouldn't care about the how - only the what of was being said. "Horace, be real with me. How do I look to you?" "Uh, nice?" Horace looked over Bubble-Glub, caught off-guard by the sudden question. "… Can you see it?" Bubble-Glub followed up, stepping away from the fence and trying to pose casually. They failed to do so, looking awkward with a bothered expression. Horace looked closely, noticing their translucent green skin catching the sunlight rather well - and the faint outlines of a humanoid skeleton beneath the skin of their face, torso and arms. "Yeah, I guess? The skeleton? I mean, if I look real hard. It's kind of cool, like one of those, uh, hidden picture pictures." "Thanks Horace." Bubble-Glub let out a sigh, dropping the tension from their posture. "Wish everyone thought like you."

The two stood in relative silence for a while, before Horace leaned away from the fence and focused on Bubble-Glub again. Horace figured that essentially every slime-person would be at least a little see-through, though it'd be rude to stare. To him, everyone had their differences worth celebrating - but Bubble-Glub seemed self-conscious about theirs. "Wait, Bro-Glub, are you bothered by it?" "Nah. You can say Bro-Glub." "No, I mean, the skeleton thing." "Oh, I ain't bothered by that. Some folks are, and they ain't nice about it. That bothers me." "Man, Bro-Glub," Horace shook his head, "People can be seriously uncool about things you can't control, dude. But that makes them uncool. Not you." "You really think it's cool? D'ya think D-" "Yeah dude. It's cool, Like … like iced coffee." "You're really into the whole coffee thing now, huh?" "Always have been, man. And like, Wallace LOVES it, so."

There was some more talk about coffee, some more talk about ducks and how appreciated Horace felt now that he found his place in After Out Of Place: he'd doubted himself very hard, but all the band's members made him feel celebrated - and celebrating differences is rad as hell, Horace insisted. Having had such good conversation while soaking up some later-afternoon sun (as well as having a good idea of what ducks now look like), Horace asked to go collect his papers to show both owners of the Duck Sanctuary his designs for promotional material - because now that ducks exist, they need all the help they can get. "And hey … Bubble-Glub?" "Yeah?" "Hey, so, do you think it's true? That ducks cause earthquakes when they laugh?" "Hmmmm, nah. Marcie laughs and we're still safe. She says her quacks don't echo, though." "Dude. That's wack." "Yeah."

#mmnmm #snippet #AOoP: Duck Sanctuary #*I had to crack the mask just a bit don't worry about BG they'll be fine*

[after-out-of-place]

Epilogue - They Don’t Know (Pt.2)

Wallace and Horace arrived in the afternoon, with Horace carrying a small bag with rolled up papers over his one shoulder while holding his other arm around his boyfriend. It took a while for him to figure out how to enter the Duck Sanctuary however, since he did not want to let go of Wallace while simultaneously wanting to hold open the door so Wallace could enter first. The situation got resolved by Wallace holding open the door instead, leaning in as Horace passed to give him a sneaky peck on the cheek. It was DD, in royal purple, greeting the two of them first, Bubble-Glub giving them a well-meant nod. "Oh, uh, yeah, hi!" Horace said in reply, still blushing. He slung his bag onto the floor, with a few rolls of papers already escaping. "I've been working on something! D'you guys want to see? Oh, shit, uh, no offense." "None taken." both DD and Bubble-Glub replied in tandem. "Okay, so, uh, actually, is it okay if I get to see the ducks first? I want to really do them justice but I forgot what they look like." Horace asked, with Wallace already nodding while carefully peeling Horace's large arm from around his waist. "Oh, and, babe, uh, you can go ahead and ask them for tips about how to run 'Our Place' better?"

They soon split off into two groups, with Bubble-Glub taking Horace to go see the ducks (while reassuring the large bear-eared individual that ducks do, in fact, have feet) and DD showing Wallace the small office space Bubble-Glub had claimed and had been doing their best attempts at proper, legally sound paperwork in. There were papers sorted in neat stacks, most of them with careful handwriting, in anticipation of Wallace's visit. There were a few notes left through-out, inviting Wallace to sit down to peer into the word salad of legalese. "Grand." was his response, taking the first few papers in hand. His hair remained in front of most of his face while his antennae carefully twitched about, leaving DD unable to really tell whether or not the young man had any trouble reading this. "Right. Business plan. Trademarks." "Glub's mentioned something about a 'Point of Sale' system, if that helpful?"

It was clear that Bubble-Glub had been writing from experience rather than from a business point of view and their penmanship was more crude in comparison to Wallace's, but it was not illegible. A helpful list of things was left on a separate note, titled 'Getting All Your Ducks In A Row'. Wallace groaned, his antennae adjusting slightly, seeming amused anyway. "What's it say?" asked DD. "Pun. Bad one, at that." Wallace took the note and put it aside for later, annoyed but not surprised that running a business seemed far more trouble than they'd originally hoped it'd be. The two of them continued exchanging some light banter: talk about their day; how DD looked cute in Glub's fedora; how to balance hobbies and work; how Horace found out that 'goat milk' isn't just 'oat milk with something extra'. Around the seventeenth page and umpteenth note Wallace leaned back and stretched out, not pleased with how this felt much like homework back at the University - but at least Bubble-Glub's handwriting alleviated the legal jargon with helpful explanations. Curiously, it had only been Bubble-Glub's writing. Wallace relaxed after his stretch, pulling his fringe down further over his face before letting go and it springing back into place. "Really left their mark." Wallace grimaced, facing DD while holding up a page with a particularly lengthy paragraph of Bubble-Glub's notes. “You’re not pulling your weight on the old paperwork then, eh DD?”

The remark had been meant as a lighthearted jab at the young woman, who had been sitting cross-legged on a different chair and absentmindedly plucking the six strings of her bass-guitar when the two started talking about how to balance their hobbies and work. Wallace's antennae had been twitching lightly along with the beat, until DD's fingers tensed and the instrument let out a soft, barely off-key note. She shifted in her seat, then continued to pluck. "Is it- is it not by choice?" Wallace's normally blunt tone sunk to one of concern; of deeply caring for a friend. DD didn't answer. Wallace carefully continued. "Can you … not read?"

#mmnmm #snippet #AOoP: Duck Sanctuary #*in which we continue to hold DD upside-down*

[after-out-of-place]

Epilogue - They Don't Know (Pt.1)

DD looked at herself in the mirror, checking all sides of herself as best as possible, determining which style to go for: business, or casual? Bubble-Glub turned out to be a snappy dresser even during off-hours, despite (or perhaps because of?) their particular condition of being relatively gelatinous, and she wanted to try and at least match their vibe. Perhaps … perhaps if she changed into this one royal purple dress suit? It'd be cute, she decided, but only if 'BG' wouldn't mind sharing their one fedora. "Looks fine to me." Bubble-Glub derailed her train of thought, having appeared in the doorway and looking her current attire up and down. "It needs to be presentable." "You are. Then again, I might carry some particularly sticky bias." "Pff." came the answer, a quick exhale. "Dee, this is the Duck Sanctuary. I'm pretty sure ducks don't care." "I do." "I'm just saying, you've got the freedom to do whatever you want."

DD's eyes glazed over for a moment, shifting her weight as if she suddenly felt intensely uncomfortable in her own skin after hearing that. Bubble-Glub did not notice her doing so, thankfully, but did react on the lack of response. "Dee? You good?" "Yeah." she hadn't intended to make that sound so dismissive, the cold tone of her own voice startled her. Not wanting to dwell on that, or the rest of her current feelings, she followed it up quickly with a passing thought. "Just thinking about Wallace and Horace coming over later." "Ah, right, that's what this is for. Heard the big lug's working on promotional material for us? Didn't think he'd halt his potential singing hobby to pursue the arts, but maybe we're all better off for it. Especially Wallace."

DD responded with a gentle laugh, more out of etiquette than amusement. As Bubble-Glub left the room, smiling to themself, DD took a long look in the mirror at herself. She had total freedom, right, of course, but why did Bubble-Glub have to stress that? There were so many things she hadn't told them, and yet they were perfectly happy to simply exist in the same space with her. Maybe they knew more than they let on? That one particular day (it felt like ages ago already) she had intended to enter the Out Of Place to look for a late-night business opportunity, but found an eclectic bunch of folks trying to make music for a dwindling crowd. A dimly glowing bartender addressed her with a 'you look like you ain't from 'round here'. It was the first thing Bubble-Glub ever said to her. DD bit her lip thinking about it. If only Bubble-Glub knew how right they were back then. She had never told them; couldn't tell them, especially not now: the thought of Bubble-Glub expressing any negativity at all if she were to tell them that she came from beyond San Bearino; beyond the planet.. left her with a deeply unpleasant feeling.

#mmnmm #snippet #AOoP: Duck Sanctuary #*in which we turn DD upside-down and some drama falls out*

[after-out-of-place]

Epilogue - The Call

The cacophony of an old phone pierced through the warm tones of their tenor saxophone, demanding the small space of Bubble-Glub's living arrangements. The place felt small now that the dive-bar work-to-live mindset had been replaced with far grander things. Stashing the instrument carefully, their green hand slid lazily over the ringing appliance after several of its shrieks. Click. "Nyello." "Hello there, I'm lookin' for a mister 'Bubbled Gub'?" They let out a sigh, placed away from the receiver. "Məks. Bubble-Glub. This is them." "Alright so, Bubbles, if I may-" the voice continued. "You mayn't."

There was no introduction, attempting to skip straight to business. Whatever this was about, this caller had made several stellar mistakes already. "O-kay! So we got off on the wrong foot here, no offense-" "Some taken." they responded curtly, hoping to fluster the other end. It failed. "-no offense meant. So, I'm calling on behalf of the 'Out Of Place' establishment, hi, since they had an inquiry regarding a diner by the name of 'Jimmy's'? Does that ring any bells?" They grinned, for sure they remember Jimmy's. It'd been where they met Chritty for the first time, who showed himself capable under stress. Not necessarily stress caused by small mechanical ursine attempting to ruin everyone's day, but that was definitely a one-time thing and Chritty did stick with the rest of the band after dealing with them rather than finding a less chaotic crew. That meant they had soul, Bubble-Glub decided. It was also where they'd met Horace for the second time, of course. But this caller didn't seem interested in the band, so why not acquaint them with Jimmy's menu instead? "Mmhmm." Bubble-Glub continued, "It's a proper greasy spoon. Serves a mean set of cackleberries on a raft soakin' in axle grease and their java, even high 'n dry, ain't nothin' to sneeze at neither." "Riiiight … soooo there's a report for property damage caused by a … mechanical bear?"

They pinched the bridge of their nose, letting out another heavy sigh. This caller would not let up, and what they said was true: before even heading to Ballroom Bay for the Monstervision finals, the band was put in danger during breakfast by various mechanical doodads, courtesy of the San Bearino Bears' lead loser "Leo", and it had caused some minor damage to Jimmy's diner. To make matters worse, a larger of Leo's mechanical bears had fixated on them in the same week as the diner incident, with a malfunction causing the creature to only bear-hug as a sign of affection rather than aggression - it had been trying to enter the diner in an attempt to save Bubble-Glub from its smaller brethren. It had then kept following them around aimlessly until it was finally returned to its owner: Leo's father, a powerful man in the business of electronics. That it did not stay put is a different issue. "Ain't my problem." came Bubble-Glub's response. It could actually be their problem. While they all tried to continue like normal after everything had been taken care of, Bubble-Glub did slip an old business-card of the 'Out of Place' towards Jimmy himself with a wink and a knowing nod to signify the damage would be handled - they'd deliberately left it as a jab towards the 'Out Of Place's new management for having transformed a perfectly good dive-bar into a sterilized mess serving 'fusion cuisine'. To make matters worse, while Horace and Sila did file a report shortly after the diner incident, the response from law enforcement had been lax to say the least. This call was clearly meant as a squeeze. The longer this call would continue, the more of a chance there would be for Bubble-Glub to lose even a sliver of their cool and say something that'd get at least one of the band in hot water with one of several bad actors. "Oh, but I think it is your problem." the voice continued, "You have been seen closely associating with mechanical bears." "This is San Bearino, bub. Everything associates with bears." "Oh." the voice on the other end muttered an expletive clearly not meant to reach the receiver. "Cool. Thanks for the talk." "No! Wait! Uh! Hold on!", the voice stammered, There it was, the last-ditch attempt to get a foot in the door: "I propose we set up a meeting, face-to-face. Surely someone like yourself would agree to work things out in a more cordial manner? Let your people reach out to mine and we'll work it out from there." "My people reach out through music. Have fun talkin' to the radio."

Click.

#mmnmm #snippet #*this could take place not long after Monstervision and before Duck Sanctuary*

[after-out-of-place]

Epilogue - Sleeping

"Nah, nah. I-it's fine. I'll get comfortable later and you can just have the whole mattress to yourself for a bit. No biggie." This had been the ritual for the past weeks, since the two of them moved in to the unnamed Duck Sanctuary: every night Bubble-Glub would awkwardly insist DD just get into bed first, reassuring her they'd be fine with it while using different excuses: being a night-owl; being used to weird hours; dotting the i's on the last paperwork of the day, etcetera. Usually Bubble-Glub would curiously be 'up early' the following morning, but more than once had DD found them asleep on the floor of the bedroom, propped up on multiple pillows and rolled into blankets. She didn't ask, or press the issue: it had been 'fine' so far, since the two musicians/partners had been living parallel to one-another due to dealing with sponsorships; band interviews; jam sessions and everything regarding the Sanctuary - but sweet words could only stave off the problem for so long.

The next night would be theirs, she decided. As night fell and the two went through their nightly rituals (Bubble-Glub insisted to "check up on Marcie, just in case"), DD simply waited, pretending to be asleep. Bubble-Glub entered the room some ten minutes later, trying not to shine too brightly, and would make themselves as comfortable as possible on the floor. DD still waited, until the faint green bioluminescence steadied and a soft gurgling emerged from the pile of pillows, blankets and person: the sounds of being asleep. She then got up quietly, grabbing her pillow, walking to the foot of the bed where Bubble-Glub had decided to hunker down. She laid down next to them, getting as comfortable as possible. It startled them awake, not moving out of surprise. "W-what? I, uh, you don't, uh- Why ain't you in bed?" DD pressed a little closer, still, taking one of their arms and gently wrapping it around herself. "I can't sleep if you're not in the same space.", she whispered, smiling.

#mmnmm #snippet #fluff

[after-out-of-place]

"Duck sanctree" - Horace

Before the Duck Sanctuary found its location, at least one duck had been aware that things were changing: Marcie had been found again and had been told of the plans, and she'd been more than open to the idea of meeting more "weird ducks". Bubble-Glub made sure she understood the entire idea behind it - it would be to stop that exact thing ('meeting more weird ducks') from actually happening, lest anyone get it in their heads to simply take her along. It took a while to wrap her little rubber ducky brain around it, but she ultimately agreed with an understanding quack (which Bubble-Glub tried to reciprocate as best as possible), before excitedly giving advice on what the best location and comfiest material would be for "their big weird nest".

#mmnmm #snippet

[after-out-of-place]

"Monstervision" Epilogue

After Out Of Place's monstrous Monstervision success continued to keep the continents buzzing for days, if not weeks, wondering about the individual members; how they managed to get that bizarre duck on stage and why it made that bizarre noise ("Everyone knows ducks aren't real!"). But for them, for After Out Of Place, they were 'just vibing': the audience could see; feel the love between the members on-stage and their immaculate love of their unique brand of music - Janglevoid Jazz-Rock.

For Bubble-Glub, life after Monstervision couldn't return to normal - normal didn't exist anymore: the Out Of Place bar lost its charm after the buy-out, and truth be told what charm it possibly could have offered (had it stayed intact) would pale in comparison against the band it spawned (..their bass guitarist in particular).

For the band, Bubble-Glub had 'always' been there: a smooth talking, ultra-chill voice of reason who wouldn't mind playing outside the rules if push came to shove - but whose calm demeanor hides a soul which can't sit still, has to keep groovin' and movin'. DD would be the first to acknowledge that (though unable to express her feelings properly), offering to combine their earnings - Bubble-Glub's and hers - to build property near the river bank on the way to Ballroom Bay: it'd be for taking care of Marcie and other ducklings, of course - because now that ducks exist, someone has to keep them relatively undiscovered and safe.

"Well I'll be.. that's a might kind of ya." Bubble-Glub responded in their usual dulcet tone, similarly unable to fully express their feelings. "But I think there's a whole bit of a sorta snag there, really." "Oh?" "Place'd probably be far too big for just one single hepcat to run the joint. " Bubble-Glub awkwardly moved their hat past their eyes to conceal most of a blush, offering a warmed hand to DD in a gallant gesture while trying not to choke on their next sentence: "... So how 'bout it, partner?"

#mmnmm #snippet