# Drama With VVURM DRAMA

Title: Drama With VVURM DRAMA
Status: Complete
Characters: Anon, Fang, Trish, Reed
Rating: SFW
Classification: One Shot
Author: Anonymous
Summary: VVURM DRAMA is recording in a professional studio for the first time, but it’s not all kool with the gang.
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“Look, I don’t even know why we have to record in some stuffy old studio anyways! We’ve always done a great job in my basement!” Trish tossed back her curls with an angry flick of her head, helping Anon to load more equipment into Reed’s van. The four of them had met at Fang’s house, hoping to load up early for a recording session downtown; however, something had gone wrong with Reed’s beat-up old van, and it was becoming dangerously close to when they needed to leave. As the others loaded the last few pieces into the van, they could hear Reed mumbling from the front, the pink raptor desperate to figure out what was going wrong.
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Fang rolled her eyes as she carefully placed the band’s guitars into the back amid the cluttered mess of other band gear, clearly tired of hearing her little friend’s complaints. “Because, if we want to be taken seriously, we have to start acting serious!” Fang snapped, fixing her amber orbs on Trish, a dangerous glint hardening her usually gentle eyes. Despite her insistence that the band was the most important thing, Trish had been complaining all morning; about the studio, about their equipment, and especially about how they had to lug their own amps. “Aren’t you the one who always saying we can make it big, huh? Well, this is how we do it! And if you’re not going to take this seriously, if you want to complain about having to do some work, then maybe you should just sit this one out!” Fang punctuated her words with a clawed finger, stabbing it repeatedly towards Trish’s ample bosom. All involved sported shirts with the band’s new logo – Trish’s own design, and boy would she not let people forget that - across the chest, the words “VVURM DRAMA” flanked by two bat wings.
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The tiny trigger puffed up in rage, her face splitting into a vicious snarl. “Don’t point that finger at me, Fang! I know what it takes to make this band work, more than anyone! Just because I think we can do better doesn’t mean I’m not taking this seriously!” Trish pointed her own finger at Fang, a purple dagger aimed directly under her much taller friend’s snoot. “And how dare you say I’m complaining! Anon and Reed haven’t said anything!” The two women were face to face now – well, face to chest – and Anon could feel the tension beginning to mount.
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“Hey, let’s just cool it, okay?” Stepping between the two of them, Anon laid a conciliatory hand on Fang’s shoulder, holding the other up pleading towards Trish. Trish shot daggers at her skinnie friend, crossing her arms angerly under her ample chest, and Anon could hear Fang’s teeth beginning to grind. “I know this is a big deal, for everyone, so maybe you guys could just, I dunno, relax?” The two women continued to glare at one another, and for a second Anon thought they would start arguing again. Finally, Trish turned her back on them, stomping off in a huff towards Reed and the front of the van.
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“Fang, you okay? Fang!” Fang’s eyes narrowed as she tracked her fellow bandmate, fists clenching. Anon watched Fang, studying her face carefully. Fang’s face snapped towards Anon, and for a moment her anger was directed not at Trish, but at her boyfriend, instead. Then, her face fell, all remnants of her frustration giving way to hopelessness.
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“Fuck, Anon, I’m sorry.” Fang said, shuffling her boots on her driveway. “It’s just, what if we can’t get the van working? No one else was available to lug all this crap around, and if we don’t make it to our session I don’t know-“
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Interrupting, Anon pulled Fang into a hug. “We’ll make it, I promise,” he murmured into her hair, holding her tight as she returned the hug. “Right now, what’s important is that you and Trish keep your cool. You don’t want to be angry at her when you’re recording, right?” Breaking the hug, Fang gave Anon a weak smile, her hands lingering on his chest for a second.
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“You’re right.” Sighing, Fang turned back to the van, the two of them re-joining the others at the front. Fang carefully avoided looking at Trish, address instead Reed as he labored to get the van running again. “Ughh, this sucks! Reed, why do you drive this piece of shit, anyways?”
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“’Cuz it’s, like, cool man.” The rhasta-raptor declined to turn around, his attention focused on the engine of the van. “S’classic. Sometimes you gotta’ just tinker with it, right? These things, they’re like a work of art,” Reed said, giving the van a friendly pat. “Sometimes they’re never really finished.”
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“I think you mean ‘work of shit’,” Trish mumbled under her breath, clearly intending them all to hear. Fang’s wings began to bristle, a telltale sign of her anger.
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“Hey, at least he’s trying to help, Trish,” Fang shot back, sneering. In an instant the two women were back at each other’s throats, their shouts echoing through the quiet neighborhood. Leaving the two of them to their argument, Anon crouched down next to Reed with a heavy sigh, peering at the greasy engine. Reed was fiddling with something with a wrench, brows knitting in concentration. For Reed to be focusing this hard, Anon knew it couldn’t be good.
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“Anything I can do to help, Reed?” Anon asked, fully aware he had absolutely no idea about cars. The third member of the band glanced sideways at Anon for a second, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his free hand as he redoubled his efforts to fix whatever it was that was broken. Behind them, Fang and Trish’s argument seemed to be heating up. Before too long, there might not even be a band to record with.
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Finally, Reed glanced up from the engine, a mischievous smile on his face. “Actually, bro, there is. Can you reach inside the van and get me the box in there? It should just be on the seat, or something.” Frowning, Anon stood up, already suspicious of anything Reed would have in a box. Opening the door, Anon could see a small wooden box maybe the size of a tablet resting on the passenger seat, its polished lid glistening in the sunlight. It felt light in Anon’s hands, and he could hear something rattling around inside.
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“Reed, what the hell is in here?” Anon asked as he offered it back to Reed. The raptor just smiled, shaking his head as he continued to work on the engine.
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“It’s not for me, bro. It’s for them.” Reed indicated Trish and Fang with a nod of his head. The two women were now accusing the other of deliberately sabotaging the van, indignant spittle flying out of their mouths. “Just something to calm them down, ya’ know?” Reed looked up at Anon, an evil smile crossing his face. “Why don’t you take a look too, bro?” Acutely worried about whatever could make Reed smile like that, Anon carefully opened the lid of the box, dreading what was inside. What he found, however, he never expected.
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Inside, was a strip of condoms, in custom-made wrappers.
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‘In case of argument, open package and apply to all parties involved.’
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“So Anon, mind helping the band out, one more time?”