#HES USED. HES CHEAP. AND HES AVAILABLE. USED CAR AD.

[blackmoldmp3]

im so smart for this by the way. this is the most cohesive theme ive ever put together in my life

[joshsindigostreak]

Moonburn

Prologue

Two of Swords, Reversed: Delays, indecisiveness, extreme dread, anxiety, and stress.

Vampire Hunter!Jake x Witch!OC

Authors Note: Hello!!! This is the start of Jake’s story! I hope y’all like it as much as I do. His side of the story has been in my mind the whole time I’ve been writing ISHIYE and I’ve been itching to share it with you. This is only the prologue but I promise there’s much more to come! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist ❤️

*Set prior to the events of I See Hell in Your Eyes. This is the beginning of Jake’s story. This can be read independently from ISHIYE but there will be cross references as it’s in the same universe.

Word Count: 3,845

Warnings: Brief violence, descriptions of blood, that’s about it for now.

He wasn’t even supposed to be in Tucson, but a blown motor had him stuck there for God-knows how long. The shop he towed his car to didn’t give him much of a time frame, just that they would call him whenever it was fixed. In the meantime, Jake Kiszka had settled in a cheap motel. Well, not extremely cheap, but it was comfortable enough that he knew wouldn’t get scabies from sleeping there. 

Nevertheless, he took this as an opportunity to take in the sights of the Grand Canyon state, at the very least Pima county. The sights in question were any local Nests that he could find and snuff out any Undead that were loitering around places they shouldn’t. 

The last three days (or nights depending on what species you were), he had been tracking a small group of them that were dumb enough to hang around the same places in the city. Vamps were always easy to spot. Their attempts to blend in with humans were awkward and stilted. Like aliens who had landed on earth the day before and had never seen a human before. That was also how you knew you were dealing with one of the young, and dumb, ones. The older the Vamp was the easier it was for them to blend in. If they’re smart enough to survive past fifty years or so, they usually start adapting to whatever environment they’re in. 

It was one of those Vampire details that confused Jake as a kid. How did they forget their humanity so fast? You’re human one day and the next night you’re a blood sucking monster, his dad would tell him. But the idea that it only took a few hours to forget whatever life you had before was almost fascinating to him. 

He was always taught that the new ones were practically feral and sloppy, which was how they got picked off so easily. They’d leave bodies behind, risking exposure to the humans who walked around in pure ignorance to the creatures that walked among them. 

Sometimes, if you were lucky, you’d catch them before they even claimed their victims. Skulking around in the dark trying to remain unseen but all of their movements looked the same, at least to Jake, which was why he was always able to figure them out faster than his siblings. He was the quiet observant one, always having his eyes on a swivel. His twin was the social one. He could talk his way into any place or establishment that he wasn’t supposed to be in, and he had a particular knack for being able to build a rapport with some of the Vamps they’d be tracking. 

It worked even better when they were in parts of the country where the only thing anyone knew of them was their last name, and the weight it carried. Knowing their name was one thing, but knowing their faces was another, and they used that to their advantage. It was also well known that they were identical, but over the years their personal aesthetics had skewed so hard in the opposite directions that they’d have to be side by side to truly see it. Though sometimes the confusion as to who was who worked in their favor. 

Jake turned his attention to the horizon from inside the car. Due to a low inventory from a week full of fender benders the rental place only had a Toyota Corolla available on the lot. A  silver Corolla from 2006, to be exact. Jake had stared at it for nearly five minutes behind his dark sunglasses, as if he could turn it into literally anything else with his mind. But when the rental agent informed him of the only other option, a burgundy minivan, the hunter agreed and signed the papers for the car through gritted teeth. 

There he was, ridding the earth of Hell-borne filth in a clunker with hubcaps. 

The sun was peeking over the horizon; the sky turning different shades of pink, yellow. and blue. Jake had a strict rule to not move in on a target until the sun was fully up and visible. “Your shadow is your friend, and your clock no matter what,” his dad would tell him. A hunter never wanted to risk a Vamp having the home field advantage that was the night. Even overcast days were iffy at times. 

Once a Vampire laid their head down they, as obvious and cliched it sounded, slept like the dead they were. It was some biological failsafe to protect their species from accidental sunlight exposure. Or at least that's what his walking-encyclopedia of a little brother reminded him along with other scientific facts about the species. 

He was parked on the side of the road a blocks-length away from the house he was watching. Vamps were known for their practicality when it came to their Nests. They liked invading houses and squatting in them after they made the residents their evening meal. This particular house was by its lonesome on this road, the nearest house was almost two miles away, which Jake didn’t mind because his plan for the four Vampires he had tracked to this location would be fucking cake.

At last, the sun shined its beautiful rays, warming up the world and preparing it for the day. Jake could almost hear the joke his twin would’ve made about it being a “dry heat” had he been there. His right hand reached to the passenger seat for his crossbow, lifting it slowly with reverence.  He kept his gaze fixed on the house as he carefully opened the driver’s side door.  He didn’t shut it all the way, just enough to make that first little click in the frame.  

As he approached the house he looked at all the windows to see which ones were covered up, a clue as to where in the house they were sleeping. He walked the perimeter a couple of times, going slow to make sure he didn’t miss anything and to let the sun rise even higher. 

Rounding the back of the house, Jake went up to the back door. He reached out and gently twisted the doorknob, and it fully turned without protest. 

They really were stupid, he thought to himself. 

The revelation that the door was unlocked let him know that they were also over confident that they’d be safe during the day time. Jake couldn’t wait to prove them wrong. 

He walked into what was the kitchen, before it had been ransacked by the real intruders sleeping elsewhere. Multiple cabinets were flung open, their contents strewn everywhere on counters and the floors. Smears of blood decorated the surfaces and the floors, streaked with what had to be fingerprints. 

Going from room to room, he saw similar scenes around the house. He still hadn’t located what he was there for but there was one bedroom at the far end of the house left. The door was slightly ajar, and from his spot in the hallway he could see a window with the curtains firmly drawn. Bingo. They were all in there, soundly asleep. A classic, “shooting fish in a barrel” situation. 

Carefully he opened the door further and peaked around the room. This had obviously been the primary bedroom, with a sizable king size bed against the far wall, with two Vamps sprawled out on the duvet, with a third curled up on the carpet at the foot of the bed. 

The hunter silently aimed the crossbow at the one on the floor, directly at its chest. At this point it was muscle memory, his finger squeezed around the trigger automatically, shooting the stake right into the Vampire’s heart. His eyes flew open in surprise, but it was too late, the color drained from his skin and it shrunk back against his bones. The usual yellow cast bled into his eyes, and as a final signal that all too familiar death rattle bubbled up from his mouth, a little too loudly for Jake. 

At the sound the female Vamp on the bed sat straight up, looking directly at Jake. 

“You bastard,” she hissed as she slapped the male Vamp next to her awake. She lunged at Jake knocking the crossbow out of his hands as he tried to shove her off of him. The two rolled around on the floor, battling for control. The hunter managed to get on top of her, straddling her waist as he quickly grabbed a stake from inside his jacket with one hand, and used the other to try to control her hands and keep her pinned down. His reflexes worked perfectly and he was able to shove her arms out of the way fast enough to drive the stake into her chest in a flash. Like the other Vamp before her, she withered in front of his eyes. 

Just as her death rattle completed the process the other male Vamp jumped on Jake’s back, straining his neck to nip at Jake’s flesh with his fangs. The hunter nearly growled as he twisted his body to fling the Vamp off of him. He didn’t go very far, but it was enough for Jake to get on his feet and grab another stake from his jacket. The Vamp stood up and lunged at Jake again, this time shoving him against the nearest wall. Jake winced as he was forced backwards and felt the drywall crack; the breath nearly knocked out of him. The stake was pinned between the two, curled in his fist and pointed down at the floor in a useless position. 

Jake looked over the feral Vamps shoulder, and realized he was close enough to the corner of the room that he could potentially gain control. With another growl, he used all of his strength to push him away and into the other wall. The Vamp's head bounced back against the wall, and in the nanosecond of delirium Jake was able to tilt his other hand up and ram the stake into the remaining Vamp, directly next to his sternum. 

The Vamp sagged against the wall as whatever “life” he had faded away. Jake let him go completely and didn’t care where he landed on the floor. He stepped back and didn’t let his guard down until he was sure they were the only creatures in the house. He ran a hand through his messy hair, wincing when his fingers hit a few tangles and pulled at his scalp. Instead of fighting through them to the ends of his hair, he pulled it back, wanting the feeling to stop instantly. A brief flashback of dirty gnarled fingers twisting into his hair and yanking upwards flashed before his mind’s eye and he shook his head to rid himself of the memory and rubbed his hands quickly over his face. 

Jake turned back to his crossbow and strapped it on his back. Now the fun part was about to begin. He looked down at the nearest corpse, the one he had just killed against the wall, and grabbed him by the ankles and started dragging him through the room. He flung the back door open once he got to it, and heaved the Vamp outside and into the sun. The corpse started to sizzle and burn before it hit the dirt. One down, two the go. 

He repeated the process until all three were piled on top of each other outside, burning through their clothes and turning their bodies to ashes. As Jake watched the flames, he reached into his jacket again, this time for the celebratory cigar he always brought with him on Nest raids. He brought it to his lips and leaned forward, lighting it using the flames of his latest bounty. 

He stood there, and the fire reflected off his dark sunglasses. He took long and slow drags of the cigar, satisfied with his work that morning. For a brief moment he wished his twin had been with him. He didn’t mind doing things on his own, but it always felt a little sweeter to have Josh standing next to him. 

Soon enough the three Vampire’s were nothing more than a pile of ashes. Jake found a shovel in the yard, and used it to dig a shallow pit to dump the ashes into. It wasn’t to “bury” them, no, there was no honor in this. Instead it was just a quicker way to quite literally cover up his tracks. 

As he drove back to the motel, he couldn’t wait to sleep the day away, satisfied that there were three less bloodsuckers walking around. 

~!~

A few days later, he found himself in front of a dive bar just outside of town. The Tipsy Tumbleweed stood before him, its red lighted sign blazed into the dark of the parking lot. A few of the letters blinked, indicating some of the bulbs were on their last legs. 

The heels of his boots clacked against the wooden floor inside, and the idle chatter amongst other patrons met his ears. He loved a good bar like this. Understated, knew exactly what it was, and didn’t try to be anything more. The walls were covered in various purple neon signs, the biggest one was on the wall behind the bar itself, with large letters spelling out: Sinners Welcome. Yeah, he was going to enjoy himself tonight. 

Just as he sat on an empty barstool, a loud and melodious laugh floated through the air behind him. He nearly broke his neck to look at the source, and that was when he saw…her. 

Her back was to him, her dark jeans and black t-shirt wrapped around her curves beautifully, her dark hair tied up in a ponytail but was long enough that the ends fell between her shoulder blades. She was standing in front of one of the booths against the far wall, chatting with the two people who sat on either side. 

He couldn’t see her face yet, and everything in his body told him to sit fucking still so he could possibly get a glimpse of it. He barely registered the young voice of the bartender asking him for his order. He kept his eyes set on the mysterious woman while he quickly mumbled something about a whiskey. He wasn’t normally that rude but as the bartender went off to make his drink she finally turned around and started walking towards him. Her large hazel eyes scanned the room as she walked and she waved at one of the tables, telling who-ever-the-fuck hi. The same dark hair framed her face in some loose layers and when she flashed a smile at someone else, Jake nearly fell off the stool. He suddenly felt like he was back in sixth grade, when Abbie Willis picked him for her kickball team in P.E. and he tripped over absolutely nothing while walking over to her. Josh never let him live that down. 

For a moment, Jake thought she was walking towards him, but she breezed right past him to exit through the Employees Only door. He turned on the stool to face the bar, hoping to god that the heat in his face wasn’t obvious. Instead, he made the most awkward eye contact with the bartender who was placing his drink in front of him. She was a tiny thing, definitely shorter than him with sharp cheekbones and curious round eyes. She couldn’t have been older than 21. 

“Umm…thanks,” he said, trying his best to recover from whatever that was. 

“You're welcome, I’m Stacey if you need anything else,” she said brightly before turning to walk to the far end of the bar, where another man was sitting at the corner. 

Jake’s eyes followed her and silently observed that side of the bar, taking in everything. Part of him wanted to turn around and watch that Employee door in hopes that she would come back out, but he didn’t want a repeat of what just happened.

He took a sip of his drink while he observed, but just as he started to relax the man at the end of the bar tilted his lowball glass back to take his own sip, and one of the lights on the other side shined through the glass and displayed the…red…contents. It wasn’t runny, it wasn’t grenadine, it was blood. 

Did he sneak that in here? Jake had obviously seen Vampire’s drink from glasses before, they could be formal when they wanted to, but out in the open like this? That was ballsy as hell. 

A drop escaped the glass and landed on the corner of the man’s, well, Vampire’s mouth and his tongue darted out to catch it. The bartender Jake now knew as Stacey was just standing there, chatting away as if she hadn’t even seen it. The hunter immediately thought that the Vampire had Persuaded this young girl into not noticing, and if he was already doing that, what else was he planning to do? 

Jake immediately shifted into hunter-mode, his casual evening cut short by duty calling. He sat there, listening as best he could over the loud music and crowd noise. Soon his glass was empty, and as Stacey walked back by he got her attention and she stopped in front of him. 

He ordered another whiskey, but before she could hop off to make it he asked her a question, “hey umm…who's that down there?” He tilted his head slightly in the Vampire’s direction. 

A sheepish smile spread across her face, “oh…that’s Lou. He’s in here a lot.” Even in the dim lighting Jake could see the color rush to her cheeks when she said Lou’s name. 

A regular Vampire, huh, not for much longer, Jake thought. 

He opened his mouth to ask another question but Stacey’s eyes suddenly went wide and she darted off to the Employee door without another word. He vaguely heard her say the name, “Cecilia” as she exited but he wasn’t sure.  

Jake sat there confused as to what spooked her so quickly, and he stole another glance at “Lou” the Vampire. 

“So, another whiskey for you?” A smoky voice snapped him out of his thoughts. 

Jake whipped his head back to the direction of the voice and suddenly, she was in front of him. He gaped at her, once again reverting back to his awkward prepubescent self. All he could do was nod like an idiot. A new glass was placed in front of him, the amber liquid perfectly poured. 

“This one’s on the house,” she said as she leaned against her hands on the edge of the bar. The motion made her collar bones visible just beneath the scooped-neck of her t-shirt. Fuck. 

“O-oh you don’t have to-”

“Nonsense, I like giving out a  free drink once and awhile, especially to new faces. I even top shelved it for you,” her lips formed a smile and she tilted her head at him, as if she already knew the effect she had on him. 

He took a sip, savoring the liquor on his tongue before swallowing. Perfectly smooth. 

“Now, what are you doing here,” she asked, a little less friendly than before. 

The question threw him off, why would she ask that? 

“Just checking out local places while I’m in town,” he answered with a level tone as he took another swig of his drink. 

“Hmm…yeah but what were you doing just a couple minutes ago?” 

He looked at her strangely, “just sitting here?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt his throat tighten up out of nowhere. What the fuck?  

“Uh-huh, just sitting here? Not scoping out the place?” 

“No? Why would I-,” his throat tightened up even more, making it harder to breathe. Jake struggled to take in a breath as he gripped the glass in front of him. 

“You do know where you’re sitting, right?” She leaned even closer to him, lowering her voice. 

“At a bar…?” That was the truth, partially, but he didn’t know where she was going with this. 

She smirked at him, “oh I guess you didn’t notice that this bar happens to be next to a cemetery?” 

Cemeteries were probably one of the few truly neutral places you could be. Neutral in the sense that creatures knew better than to start trouble in them, and hunters were lumped into that protocol as well. They were their own liminal space with their own rules, and Jake remembered Sam rambling about the spirits that reside in them did not take kindly to truces being broken on their land. If Jake had actually killed the Vampire at the end of the bar, it would not be pretty for him once the spirits figured out what happened. If the woman in front of him knew this rule, then what was she?

“Fuck,” he rasped. 

“Yeah, fuck is right. So what is a hunter like you coming into my bar where we mind our own business and coexist as best we can?” Irritation was evident in her voice. 

This was her bar? Oh, he really fucked up. 

“Listen I wasn’t trying to start anything,” he tried to explain but his words had his throat nearly closed completely. 

“Sure you weren’t,” she reached into her back pocket and pulled out a small vial full of pale green liquid. She held it up in front of him, “sir you look very…purple…are you feeling alright?” 

He stared at the vile in her hand, and he wasn’t sure if he was connecting the dots or just seeing them, but he tried to whisper a guess. 

“W-witch..?” 

“Oh nothing gets past you,” she mocked. “And yes, I am, thank you for asking.” 

At this point all he could do was wheeze at her. 

“Now, I can reverse that little concoction you happily drank, but only on one condition.” 

His big brown eyes started watering and he nodded.

She twisted off the cap of the vial and slowly poured the contents into Jake’s glass as she spoke, “you have two minutes to get out of my bar before I get that Werewolf in the corner to throw you out.” 

Jake quickly drank down the whole glass as best he could, oxygen finally entering his system as his throat loosened back up. 

“S-sorry…” he whispered. 

“If you ever come back here and try that shit again, it’ll be a lot worse. Now go,” her voice was final, and she flicked her eyes over his shoulder and at the door. 

Jake didn’t hesitate to slide off the barstool and walk right out, not looking back even though he wanted to. 

As he drove back to the motel, all he could think about was the Witch that just nearly killed him, and how her eyes bore into his, and for once in his life, Jake Kiszka was the one intimidated and outmatched. 

To be continued…

Tag List:  @dannyandthekiszkas , @readyforthegarden  , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @gvfcinema , @sacredthethreadgvf , @losfacedevil , @jakekiszkasbuttsweat , @shutupdevvie , @hearts-hunger , @gretavanfleetposts , @ascendingtostardust , @mackalah , @andromeda-raine-gvf , @jake-kiszkas-smirk , @gracev0609 , @sacredjake , @earthlysorrows , @gvfpal , @myownparadise96 , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmelbourne, @twistedmelodies , @that-witchy-pan , @gold-mines-melting , @texas-bbq-pringles , @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface , @sadiechar , @char289 , @stardustvanfleet , @sunfl0wer-power , @holdingup-fallingsky , @bladenotblaze , @gretavanlace ,

[sirfrogsworth]

Looking Forward

If I trust my brother... and he did my dad's will properly... and set up my trust correctly... then I should be able to stay in the house for roughly 2 years.

If I trust my brother.

Then I can either sell the house and use that money for a small apartment or try to find a roommate situation to help me stay in the house a little longer. The nice thing about paying the mortgage is I can get most of that money back if I ever do sell the house. It's almost like a savings account with all my stuff inside.

Let's just hope the property value doesn't plummet for some reason. Though it has been around the same amount for many years.

I like living in my house. It's what I've known for 30 years. But being alone in the house is going to be a hard adjustment. After two years (or sooner) I may want to move near Katrina or Delling so I am closer to a support system. I wish we could all live next door to each other. Or live on a farm/ranch situation. And instead of chickens it is just a bunch of free range corgis.

I tried convincing Katrina to build a pool house, but she has a small backyard and no pool. HOWEVER... Apparently Florida has a lot of "mother-in-law suites." I had no idea that had a name, but I could be Katrina's mother-in-law. I have the skill set to guilt trip, make passive-aggressive comments, and judge how she raises her future kids. (And any other outdated stereotypes I've learned from 80s comedians.)

But I also like the idea of having a roommate. I could accommodate a single person or a small family. And I'd love to have an animal of some kind around. We have a huge fenced-in area left over from Otis.

I think I could offer someone a pretty sweet living situation. I have a full basement apartment that I reside in and so the entire upstairs is available for people to live in. I could charge cheaper rent than a cheap apartment in exchange for helping with chores that I struggle to do.

There is plenty of furniture and appliances ready to use. Full laundry room. I've got a really nice home theater in the living room so they can watch movies in style. I also have a few hundred TV series and several thousand movies on Plex. They get a full kitchen and bathroom to themselves. Plenty of garage space and a long driveway to park vehicles. They can have up to 5 rooms to do whatever in. They could do 3 bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, and a small den area. My mom liked the den because she could watch her Judge Judy shows while my dad watched JAG in the living room.

If they don't have a family, they could convert 2 of the bedrooms into office space or craft rooms or S&M dungeons. They can decorate any way they'd like. But they have to keep the sex swing clean so I can use it. Not for sex--I just enjoy centripetal forces. And they'll have great privacy as I will be in the downstairs apartment. They'd only see me if I exit the house or if they invite me to dinner or movie night.

All they would have to pay is whatever I can't cover. I'd estimate in the $600-$800 range once the trust fund runs out. Plus the chores like cleaning and yard duty. That's a good deal, right?

The only downside is the house is in a deteriorating neighborhood. Businesses are closing and people are moving away. Our street is pretty isolated so there isn't much danger or crime. But we are adjacent to a dangerous neighborhood and the schools aren't great. That said, while there isn't much around here, in St. Louis you are always ~25 minutes from anything you need. The highway is literally down the street so driving to anywhere is fairly hassle free.

Also, I'd be happy to lend out the car for transport to a job. I'll only need it to get groceries every few weeks. They'd have to get added to my insurance and help with gas and maintenance.

Soooo... yeah, I think I have a lot to offer with my house.

They do have to be okay with my big subwoofer rattling things. The sound doesn't really travel through the floor, but the vibrations can. I can tone it down if they are sleeping though.

Oh! We also have a huge workshop on the property too. It could be used for working on cars or woodworking or an art space. It has electricity, lighting, heating and is perfect for anything that requires getting dirty. If that makes sense.

One idea I have been considering is seeking out an unhoused queer individual who was kicked out or is struggling to afford a decent place. If their parents don't want them, maybe I could provide a safe place. Things are so scary for LGBTQ+ folks right now. Especially in Missouri. St. Louis is a pretty blue city, but Missouri is a blood red state. If I could do something small for someone like that, I would be happy to help. Could be mutually beneficial.

So those are all of my thoughts and ideas as of now.

Again, if I trust my brother, I should have a decent amount of time to figure things out.

If things go sideways, I might be screwed.

So far he seems to be doing all the things he should be doing to get me sorted.

I'm going to choose to trust him.

With my life.

Oof.

[falseroar]

Murder on the Warfstache Express

Part 7: Incriminating Investigating

((Abe and Wilford continue their search of the passengers' rooms as the clues continue to pile up.

Links to Part 6: Room by Room and to Part 1 if you'd like to start from the beginning.))

While Richard’s room was far bigger than any compartment on this train had a right to be, his assistant’s felt smaller than any of the other single rooms they had seen so far. It might have had something to do with the collapsible desk and chair that took up the available free space not already occupied by the seat turned bed.

Both pieces of furniture felt flimsy and cheap to Abe, although that might have been because just brushing up against the chair made the thing collapse into an easy-to-pack heap at his feet. The desk was a little sturdier at least, which was good news for the stacks and stacks of papers and accounting ledgers covering it.

Abe could hear Wilford nosing around through the rest of Mack’s belongings while he focused on trying to make heads or tails of all of these numbers. Wilford had quickly taken to invading people’s privacy, but then he didn’t have a firm grasp on the whole “personal space” thing before this so it probably wasn’t much of a stretch for him. By now, Abe had completely given up on trying to convince Wilford to wait out in the hall, both because it seemed a futile effort and because he couldn’t trust him to stay put or not cause just as much havoc out there where he couldn’t keep an eye on him.

Not that having him in the same room made it any easier.

Despite his being uncharacteristically helpful so far, Abe still found himself tensing every time he caught a glimpse of the other man out of the corner of his eye, or heard some small sound or humming that reminded him he was still there. The detective’s fingers twitched often as he restrained himself from reaching for the gun he knew wasn’t there, his instincts going haywire at the insanity of turning his back on a known killer.

Instincts that screamed and hit every panic button his body had when a loud, metallic snap went off just behind his head, screams that might have become a little more physical than Abe meant them to be as he whirled around and found Wilford poking at a snarl of metal on the floor.

“What the hell is that?!”

“Why are you shouting?!” Wilford had the audacity to shush the detective as he added, “This is supposed to be a stealth mission, isn’t it?”

Abe’s fingers were twitching again, except instead of the grip of his gun he imagined them closing around Wilford’s neck. Shaking it off, Abe asked again, “What is that, and where did you find it?”

Wilford shrugged. “I dunno. Fell out from behind this wall panel after I poked it a bunch.”

“…Why did you poke the wall?”

Another shrug. “Looked weird. I like poking weird things.”

 Abe slapped Wilford’s hand away before he could demonstrate by poking the detective’s nose and took a closer look at said wall panel. Like the rest of the compartments, the walls were a mix of wood paneling and sections covered by red and gold patterned wallpaper that looked nice enough, if a bit worn out in some spots. Someone had either found a loose panel or pried it away from the wall to reveal a small space between the compartment wall and the backside of the wall facing out into the hallway, used to run pipes and wiring up and down the car along with a bit of extra insulation by the looks of it.

It also made a convenient hiding place for…whatever this thing was.

Abe knelt down to get a better look at the metal contraption, pulling a pen from his pocket to turn it over without getting his fingers close to the sharp, jagged pieces.

“This looks like a booby trap,” Abe said.

“Oh, tell me more!”

“Like something a hunter would use. Set it up, hide it under some brush or leaves or whatever’s out in the woods, and some animal goes and steps on it and bam!” Abe hadn’t meant to punctuate his words by triggering the trap he’d accidentally reset, but at his words the metal jumped again, except…

Except while he had been thinking about metal jaws clamping shut, the metal sprung up into the air about an inch and a blade shot straight upward before swiftly retracting back into the confines of the contraption.

A blade that still bore traces of blood on the edge.

“Seems a bit convoluted, if you ask me,” Wilford said. “What happened to just a good, old-fashioned stabbing? No need to go and make it complicated!”

As much as Abe hated to admit it, even in the privacy of his own mind (although with Wilford around that didn’t seem to count as much as it used to), Wilford was right. The thing was needlessly complicated, for what basically amounted to a six-inch stabbing range once triggered, if that. It also seemed like a devil to setup and remove, judging by how the moving pieces tried to take his fingers with them at least twice in just the minute or so he’d been handling it.

There were other signs of the previous victim, aside from the obvious bloodstain—a few threads poking out, connected to a small piece of fabric wedged tight within the gears.

“Speaking of stabbing, can I borrow your knife?” Abe asked, flinching when Wilford flourished the butterfly knife before taking it and using it to pry the piece of fabric free.

“You sure don’t play nice with other people’s toys, do you?” Wilford muttered as he took his knife back and closely examined the blade for any sign of damage.

“Knives aren’t toys, and neither is this thing,” Abe said, gesturing with the device in hand and hesitating.

Up until now, he’d been stashing away evidence in his pockets to keep it from disappearing, but this seemed like a monumentally bad idea for this particular piece. As much as he hated to do it, putting it back into the wall cavity behind the loose panel was probably the best move for now.

“And if someone comes in here to move it, that should be incriminating enough on its own,” Abe said.

“Someone like us?”

“This isn’t incriminating, this is investigating,” Abe protested. “Although yes, sometimes they can and do look like the same thing at a distance…”

Something itched at the back of Abe’s brain and he looked back at the desk covered in ledgers and notes, until the itch turned into Happy’s voice, repeating what he said back over dinner: “owner and CEO of multiple enterprises, at least seven of which are currently under investigation for money laundering and fraud…”

Happy had known a lot about the rich idiot off the top of his head. More than the kind of observational stuff you could just pull out of your fedora after looking at someone for a bit. No, that was someone who had done his research before getting on this train.

Shame then that the agent hadn’t kept a notepad or anything similar on him that might’ve given away what else he’d been looking into, although considering Abe couldn’t even read his badge it would have just been another tantalizing clue he couldn’t do anything with.

“Just three rooms left,” Abe reminded himself. “Although I think I’m already starting to get a picture of what happened…”

 “Then what’s the point of searching the other rooms?” Wilford asked as he followed the detective out of Mack’s room and across the hall into Ms. Dorene Whitacre’s room, quickly identified thanks to the open trunk full of dresses, shawls, and other clothes underneath the window, along with a heady whiff of the woman’s perfume lingering in the air. What looked to be a hand-made quilt was draped over the foot of the bed, along with several extra pillows, while the other seat in the room had some half-finished knitting left out on it. Wilford picked this up, admiring both the needlework and the very sharp and pointed needles that came with it.

“I said I’m starting to get a picture, but there’s still a few corner pieces missing, and some bits of sky I can’t make heads or tails of,” Abe said, but he was barely listening to himself. He knew no one was above suspicion, but something about being in the older woman’s room left him with a feeling of unease despite the complete ordinariness of it all.

He could feel a judging stare on him as he looked inside the trunk, and when it became too overbearing, he glared back at Wilford and said, “Could you knock it off?”

“That is a lady’s bloomers you are handling,” Wilford said, and the detective quickly dropped the piece of fabric he had pulled out without being able to see it clearly by the lanternlight. “And I don’t see what the big deal is. Dorene is a lovely woman, who cares if she does a little murder on the side?”

“Literally everyone! Being lovely or nice or whatever else doesn’t matter if you go around killing people!”

“…Huh.” Wilford tilted his head, as though this were a new concept to him. “No, no, that doesn’t sound right at all.”

“Yeah, well, good thing you’re not in charge of this investigation then, isn’t it?” Abe asked as he continued his search, although being a little more careful about where he rummaged.

There was nothing too out of the ordinary in the trunk, aside from the pouch filled with an extraordinary amount of medicine. Then again, he supposed that wasn’t too out of the ordinary for a lot of people either, but he still took the time to check all of the labels just in case.

Heartburn meds, aspirin, eyedrops, antidote for poison, allergy medicine…

Well, one of those things was not like the others.

Abe tilted the bottle to better read the label. It wasn’t a regular pill bottle like you’d pick up at the pharmacy, obviously, and the label didn’t just come out and say “antidote for that rare poison you’ve got in your pocket, detective,” but Abe recognized the name.

“Why do you know so much about poison?” Wilford asked.

“Comes up a lot when your average rich jerk with a recently changed will turns up dead,” Abe said, pocketing the bottle as he straightened up. If he was going to be carrying around a bottle of poison, he might as well keep the antidote with it just in case. “Among other things, but that’s usually the big one.”

“Well, good thing we don’t have any of those around here, now isn’t it?”

 Huh. That was some pretty blatant sarcasm in Wilford’s tone. He really must have taken Richard’s comment about his fashion sense at dinner to heart.

“Oh, please, like I’d care what someone who decorates a room like the one we saw back there has to say about fashion,” Wilford said with a roll of his eyes. “Can we move on to the next room already? I’d rather Dorene not find us poking around her boudoir, if you catch my drift.”

“Do you even know what that word means?”

“Not a clue! But I like how it rolls off the tongue: boudoir.”

Abe shrugged, but felt like he’d found all that he was going to, and they really didn’t have the time to spend too long in any one room. He wasn’t sure how long Benjamin could keep the guests happy in the lounge before they got antsy enough to start wandering around or heading back to their own rooms, whether or not the murderer had been found.

“And just what do you think you’re doing there, friend?”

Although Abe would have hoped his luck could have held out a little longer, especially when he turned to see Illinois pushing the brim of his hat back to get a better look at the detective caught in the act of closing Dorene’s door while the petite professor behind him folded her arms and shook her head with disapproval.

Two rooms left, and of course they would belong to the two people who just caught him in the act of snooping around.

“For shame, whoever you are,” the professor said. “Poking around in a lady’s room without her permission?”

Wilford said, “That’s what I tried to tell him!”

“I’m not poking around,” Abe said, and she wasn’t the only one who scoffed at him.

“He was looking for clues to find the murderer,” Illinois said, in his usual, unhurried tone. “What any detective worth his badge would do in this situation. I suppose you were planning on looking in our rooms as well?”

Abe cleared his throat and instead of answering that asked, “Just what are you two doing out here, anyway? I thought Benjamin was supposed to be keeping everyone gathered together in the lounge car for safety.”

“Little missy here said she had something important to check on in the baggage car, and I could hardly let her go alone.”

“Do not call me ‘little missy,’” the professor said, and drew herself up to her full if still not very intimidating height as she explained, “I have something very sensitive and valuable stored in the baggage car, and if it was damaged during the sudden stop or tampered with in any way, we could have a very serious situation on our hand.”

“More serious than the murder?” Abe asked.

The professor scoffed again and said, “Oh, you have no idea. To be fair, I’m not entirely sure what would happen if it got damaged either, but my projections say it would definitely be on the side of ‘not good.’”

“Professor Beauregard was very insistent about that,” Illinois added. “And I thought it couldn’t hurt to check and just be sure. But if you’re wanting to take a look around our rooms, I think we’d be glad to take a little detour and open the doors for you so you don’t have to go sneaking in, then we can all go to the baggage car together. Safety in numbers and all that.”

Clever son of a gun. It’s not like Abe could turn him down now that they both knew what the detective was planning on doing, and of course Abe would want to know what the professor had up there that was so precious and dangerous she just had to check on it. Framing the offer as an invitation meant Abe could save some face and still look around their rooms, which meant he had to be grateful even while Illinois ensured he and Professor Beauregard could keep an eye on him at the same time.

Illinois’s smile was disarming even in the slightly unsteady light of the lantern, his voice so friendly and genuine that Abe almost immediately forgot his suspicions as Illinois gestured toward his own room and said, “Well, shall we? I’ve got nothing to hide.”

Abe nodded, silently yelling at himself to get a grip. He could not let himself get distracted by a pretty face during the middle of an investigation, not again.

“Not that there’s much to see, of course,” Illinois said, in direct contrast to the strange array of items littered around the room, from a coiled bullwhip hanging on the coat hook by the door to the map pinned to the wall, its surface littered with so many pins connected by bits of string that even Abe thought it was a bit excessive. He gestured toward the locked trunk sitting to one side and said, “Just a few odds and ends I’ve picked up on my travels, on their way to a museum where they belong.”

“Yeah, I can’t just take your word on that one, pal,” Abe said. “Mind opening the trunk?”

“Not at all, friend,” Illinois answered without batting an eye. He pulled a key from one of the pouches on his hip and unlocked the trunk, opening it to reveal a lot of packing straw and several bundles carefully wrapped in leather and string to protect their contents. “This little beauty I picked up at a temple in Ohio. For some reason the locals begged me to take it from there—usually it’s the other way around with these things, but who am I to judge?”

Illinois unwrapped the covering, and for a split second the lanterns Abe and the professor were holding illuminated the glimmering jewel, a second too long as both recoiled and begged him to cover it, cover it now, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts—

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Illinois said, rewrapping the terrible, terrible jewel. “Eye of the beholder situation, everyone else who looks upon it is ‘filled with madness’ or something like that. You know how local legends can be sometimes.”

“Don’t…don’t ever do that again,” Abe said, barely able to get the words out as his lungs struggled for air.

Beside him, Professor Beauregard was doubled over, and he could just barely hear her say, “I think I’m going to be sick…” before lurching toward the bathroom.

“Would you like to see what else is in the trunk?” Illinois asked.

“No!” Abe and the professor shouted in unison, possibly the only time either one of them didn’t want to know more about something.

Illinois shrugged and relocked the trunk while Wilford said, “I don’t get what all the fuss was about. Just some fancy little piece of jewelry. I want to know more about this!”

Abe reached out one hand and grabbed the back of Wilford’s collar before he could get his grabby little mitts on the bullwhip, asking Illinois as he did so, “The conductor let you bring that on the train?”

“What, the whip? Of course, I never travel without it.”

“But he didn’t make you put it in the weapons safe?” Abe pressed.

“There’s a weapons safe?”

Abe scowled, wondering if he was the only person on this entire train who had his weapon taken from him, and took out his frustration by pacing the room and checking every other corner he could find, even tapping the walls to be sure of no more hidden compartments before finally having to relent and admit there was nothing else worth noting in the adventurer’s room. At least nothing related to the current murder situation.

But, while he had the man at hand, he might as well try to get all the information he could.

With that thought in mind, Abe carelessly picked up an ordinary enough looking rock and turned it over in his hand as he asked, “Did you know the victim?”

“No,” Illinois said, plucking the rock from Abe’s hand and returning it to its place with undue care. “Couldn’t even tell you the poor soul’s name. Saw him in the lounge car yesterday and I meant to introduce myself, but never got a chance to so much as say hello. I’d hoped to get to know both of you better after dinner, but he wasn’t too keen to chat at the bar and you were…well, I don’t like to wake someone sleeping that well.”

“You were snoring very loudly,” the professor added, returning from the bathroom and already looking better now that the jewel of Ohio was locked away again. “I had to go back to my room just to be able to concentrate enough to work.”

“What about you, did Happy talk to you?” Abe asked, trying to ignore that remark.

The professor paused, brow furrowed. “Well, yes, he stopped by where I was working in the lounge before dinner, but I could have sworn he used a different name. Then again, I’m not the greatest at names and I was so focused on working out the math behind a particularly tricky theory at the time, so who knows?”

“And what did he say?” Abe was trying to be patient, he really was.

“Oh, that I missed a coefficient!” The professor clapped her hands together, eyes lighting up. “Silly me, don’t know how it happened, but that was just the thing to prove without a doubt that—that, um…”

She cleared her throat and admitted, “I’m not really supposed to talk about it, but let’s just say it was a really big deal, and proves I was right, and that’s all you need to know about that. Anyway, of course I had to ask him how he spotted that, but he just said he was good with numbers, which, okay, sure buddy, and he started asking me all of these questions about my work? He knew so much I think he has to have been working for—for someone who’d like me to say more than I should, not that I would ever do that, of course. Luckily the dining car opened then and I could make an excuse about wanting to sit with Illinois so he’d leave me alone.”

“Oh,” Illinois said, looking a little crestfallen while Abe was still trying to parse that firehose of information. “And here I thought you wanted to get to know me a little better.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’d still love to take some samples of your artifacts before you take them to the museum or wherever it is you’re going, and maybe do a brain scan while we’re at it,” Professor Beauregard said, adding in a low voice to Abe, “I suspect radiation or some kind of hallucinogenic gas would explain some of the things he claims to have seen on his ‘expeditions.’”

Abe nodded without really listening, still thinking about the agent who somehow managed to catch a mistake in the professor’s notes and knew all about whatever confidential project she was working on. Was she the reason he was on this train?

Now that he thought about it, swapping rooms with Abe would have put Happy just as close to the professor’s room as Richard Moneybags—maybe he had been a little too quick to assume Happy had decided to work for the rich idiot.

Speaking of the idiot…

“Did either of you know anyone else on the train before yesterday?” Abe asked, and their hesitation and waiting for the other to answer first said a lot all on its own.

“Actually, I knew Dorene—or rather, knew of her,” Illinois said, cracking a smile as he said, “Imagine my surprise when I found one of my biggest benefactors here on this train. She’s donated a lot of money to museums, and helped fund more than one of my expeditions to get a relic back where it belongs. Lovely lady, which is why it’s a shame we’ve only ever communicated by letter before yesterday.”

“You two just happened to be on the same train?” Abe asked. “A train that literally has less than a carful of passengers?”

Illinois shrugged. “I was in the area for work, she was doing some sightseeing, and we’re both headed to a grand opening of a new wing at a museum—she helped fund it, and I’m helping fill it with that trunk over there.”

“Please tell me the Ohio thing isn’t going on display,” Abe said.

“That? Nah, that’s…” Illinois paused. “Actually, I’m not sure what I’m going to do with it. Usually it’s either take it to a museum or return it to its place of origin, I’ve never been in a situation where neither one wants anything to do with it.”

“You could sell it,” Professor Beauregard pointed out, before adding under her breath, “Not that anyone in their right mind would ever pay for something like that…”

Illinois grimaced and said, “Selling to a private buyer is always a dangerous road to go down in my line of work. As soon as you’re willing to put a price on something, there’s always someone who thinks that means it’s open season to bid for any and everything else you discover. Besides, who cares about the money?”

Spoken like someone who hadn’t taken more than a few dirty jobs just to make ends meet, but Abe sensed an opportunity and took it to suggest, “Well, you’ve got one person on this train rich and stu-er, adventurous enough to make an offer if you change your mind.”

He didn’t even have to say the name “Richard Moneybags” to get a reaction out of both of them.

Illinois grimaced while the professor all but gagged again, but it was the adventurer who admitted, “Yeah, thank you for the suggestion, but I think I’ll give that one a pass. If I’m being honest, Dick and I don’t exactly see eye to eye when it comes to matters of…ownership. Namely, that he thinks anything has a price if you push the right people hard enough.”

Well, that sounded enough like a euphemism for even Abe to catch it.

“’The right people’ as in someone willing to steal it if the owners aren’t selling?” Abe guessed.

Illinois just shrugged and said, “Nothing that can be proven, but word gets around. Although judging by what he’s got on display in his room over there, my guess is that his dealers can’t always deliver what they promise and make do with what they can—bit lucky for them then that he’s not so good at telling the real from the fake.”

“Sounds about right,” Professor Beauregard said with a snort. “All looks and no depth.”

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Abe said, turning on the professor. “What’s your deal with Moneybags?”

“My ‘deal’? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She managed to say that with a straight face, and behind her Wilford rolled his eyes and took the opportunity to pull a large sip from a flask—Abe’s flask, which the detective suddenly realized wasn’t in his pocket.

Abe scowled at Wilford but had to let it go for now and focus on the professor. “Sure, like I couldn’t see the way you were glaring at the guy last night. Look, I get it, the guy’s an asshole, I’m just curious how you figured that out for yourself.”

The professor stared at him, jaw working as she started to answer only to rethink it over and over again until she finally settled on saying, “Mr. Bags has made a lot of money by having a lot of ‘ideas,’ and then paying other people to make those ideas happen. He’s also made a lot of money by making sure those people don’t waste time thinking about little things like the consequences of those big ideas until they belong to other people. I mean, this is just hearsay and of course I wouldn’t know anything personally, certainly not anything I could legally share with anyone here, but you get the idea, right?”

“Uh…sure,” Abe said.

“I guess you’ll still want to look at my room,” Professor Beauregard said. If she was looking to change the subject, she still managed to sound and look equally unenthused at her own idea. “This just seems like a waste of time though, you know? But I know it’s important to be thorough, and Illinois had to go ahead and let you look around his room, so it’d look bad if I didn’t do the same. Sorry in advance, I like to work while I travel and things are a bit all over the place because of the train slamming on its brakes and everything.”

As Abe had already discovered, once the professor got to talking it was very hard to get a word in edgewise, especially when she managed to say all of that in the space of time it took to leave Illinois’s room and walk across the hall. Still, once she unlocked the door and pulled it open for the others to see the interior, there was just enough of a pause for the detective to comment on the sight.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” Abe crossed over the scattered papers and books, hardly paying them any mind as he stopped and pointed at the very large and very obvious blaster sitting on the couch that no one had bothered to convert into a bed. “What is this?!”

Professor Beauregard shrugged. “Just a little something for self-defense. You can’t be too careful traveling alone these days.”

“She’s right,” Illinois chimed in. “I like to keep an open mind toward my fellow travelers, but there are some dangerous folks out there.”

“But—but this is…” Abe trailed off, looking from the gun that might as well have fallen out of a sci-fi pulp novel to the others in search of some sign anyone else saw the obvious problems here, but with no luck. He settled for muttering under his breath about the conductor and his stupid weapons policy before asking about the other “equipment.” “What’re all these machines for?”

“Monitoring equipment,” Professor Beauregard answered, slapping the detective’s hand away before he could press any of the large and inviting buttons. “Among other things. It’s all to aid my research, although now I’m mostly going through and trying to put all of the data together into something that even a bunch of monkeys in suits can understand.”

Illinois asked, “Are we talking metaphorical monkeys here, or…?”

He shrugged when the others stared at him and said, “I’ve seen enough to know better than to make assumptions.”

“Investors,” the professor with the same tone of voice she’d use to describe something she’d found on the bottom of her shoe. “I technically can’t talk about it, and I don’t see that it has anything to do with what’s going on here. What is it you’re looking for again, detective?”

That was a good question. If there was a clue here, he’d be hard-pressed to recognize it among all of the gadgets and gizmos, never mind all of the notes written in the professor’s neat handwriting, the notations all perfectly legible and yet still beyond any hope of Abe understanding a single word of it.

Still, he made the same show of walking around the room, checking under the bed and standing by while the professor opened her bag to prove there were no additional weapons hidden among her clothes, or among the currently unoccupied cases for all of the equipment arranged around the room.

There was only the very obvious blaster she just had lying out where anyone could get it, but seeing it reminded Abe of Happy’s strange, toy-like gun, currently tucked away in his belt under his jacket.

“Did you make that thing?” Abe asked, gesturing toward the blaster.

“Yep!” Professor Beauregard hefted the blaster up on her shoulder, the thing nearly as big as her torso, and seemed oblivious to the way Abe and Illinois both flinched away at the sight. “I put it together while I was testing some potential uses of the—uh. I probably shouldn’t talk about that, either.”

She hesitated and Abe asked, “So you didn’t have a source, or know anyone who might make other…unorthodox weapons?”

“Nope, can’t say that I do. I don’t really care much for guns or stuff like that, if I’m being honest.” The professor shrugged and added, “Not bad for my first time though, right? Still working on the balance, and it has a tendency to pull to the right a little when you pull the trigger, but that shouldn’t be hard to correct for. Not that I’m planning on needing to use it much, of course.”

She beamed at Abe, who hated to imagine what she could make if she were a gun enthusiast. As it was, she seemed a little too comfortable wielding that giant blaster, which made it a relief when Illinois was the one who pointed out, “You may need to leave that here while we’re at the front of the train. Sounds like the conductor fellow isn’t a fan of blasty things.”

“Oh, of course,” Professor Beauregard said, setting the blaster down while behind her two of the men breathed silent sighs of relief.

Wilford, on the other hand, kept shooting such covetous looks at the blaster that Abe decided he better cut this search short before the man got any funny ideas.

((End of Part 7. Thanks for reading! And my apologizes to the Ohioans (excepting Mark, for obvious reasons).

Also that puzzle reference Abe made is 100% something Sam Vimes has said before. Cannot recommend the Discworld City Watch books enough if you haven't checked them out before.

Link to Part 8: What the Engineer Didn't Hear.

Tag list: @silver-owl413 @asteriuszenith @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @95fangirl @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-star-eyes @shyinspiredartist @avispate @autumnrambles @authorracheljoy @liafoxyfox @hidinginmybochard))

[akexplorer]

Article Writing Tips: 8 Tips to Make Your Content Stand Out

Thousands of how-to articles are available online where interested readers can learn how to change a car tire, create a website, or swaddle a baby. There should be a list of steps that fleshes out each phase of the process until it is completed in the article. Regardless of whether you're a professional writer or just a casual blogger, any person with a bit of knowledge can write a how-to article.

These articles provide step-by-step instructions on how to do something, such as changing a car tire, creating a website, or swaddling a baby. In a good article, each phase of the process is fleshed out in a list of steps. Anyone with a basic understanding of a subject and access to some reliable sources can create a how-to article, regardless of how much experience you have in writing.

To write a good article in record time, here's a step-by-step guide full of tips:

1. Select a topic.

Choosing a specific aspect of a subject in your life that you are relatively knowledgeable about will help you focus your article writing. For example, if you are an experienced chef, you could write a great how-to article about how to make the perfect au jus. An article on how to start a small business could be written by you if you are a successful small business owner. It's important to pick a topic you're well-versed in or passionate about because it'll not only make for great content but also keep you interested as you write about it.

2. Analyze your audience.

To identify the target audience you're trying to reach, you should take the reader's perspective. Identifying the right target audience also requires consideration of the following factors: DemographicsBehaviors and interestsBuying habitsIf you write too many complex terms in your article on fixing a bike chain, a teenager may not be able to understand what you're saying, making your article ineffective. Keep the reader's attention and maximize comprehension by tailoring your style to your target audience.

3. Do your own research.

Be as thorough as possible with your research. It is important that your readers trust the information you provide. It is important to provide credible, supportive resources when writing articles regardless of how much you know about the subject matter.

4. Reduce your entry barrier.

Don't make it hard for your reader to get sucked into your story.

The opening paragraph of an article can be a significant barrier to entry. Before the reader can decide whether the article is really interesting and worth reading, he or she must wade through a large wall of text. In order to accomplish this, a great deal of effort must be expended. It won't be worth their time for most people.

Make your opening short and punchy. An easy way to get buy-in is with a one-sentence or two-sentence leading paragraph. In a matter of seconds, you can skim it and read it.

Try something short and engaging to get people's attention. If you want your reader to expend effort, prove that you're adding value.

5. Use short paragraphs and visuals.

It is generally a good idea to shorten everything.

Have you ever lost interest after reading rows and rows of dense paragraphs? Let's be honest. Once you've sold a reader on committing, if consumption becomes too laborious, you could lose them.

A short paragraph is tantalizing, on the other hand. You don't have to worry about anything complicated with them. I feel accomplished after completing them. Your eye gets drawn down the page as you read - you always want to read one more. It's best to break up your text. The words should be chased from paragraph to paragraph to keep your reader interested. Don't rush them. Space should be provided between ideas.

The breath between spoken sentences is a good example of how to balance words with empty spaces.

A short piece of writing does not mean it cannot be stylish and beautiful. Shorts need not be bland. That's what I thought once, and it's not true.

It's important that you don't use simple, cheap words when you're brief. They're powerful.

6. Keeping it simple is key.

The reader will be confused and lost if you overexplain, go off on tangents, or include irrelevant information. It is important to simplify your solution clearly and efficiently from your first sentence until the end of your how-to article. You should pay particular attention to this when your how-to steps don't follow a chronological order. For the person reading the process, you are responsible for making it easy to follow.

7. Keep it friendly.

It is important that a writer uses a tone that is helpful and assertive, rather than condescending or arrogant. Everyone dislikes being talked down to, no matter what their demographic is. As a speaker, you want your audience to trust you know what you're talking about and stay with you throughout your presentation.

[MORE]

[the-firebird69]

We're going to have this contest and we're going to narrow the criteria. It will be for performance cost ease of construction by more or less an intermediate like our son and availability of the product no that's our job design whether it's really cool or not and it'll all be in C-1 Classification. We strongly recommend if you enter the contest that you keep in mind availability of materials we will have the product available but if you have donor vehicles we'd like to see your information and how many vehicles you can get up front but this is that one matter after time you won't be able to do it unless you plan on using new vehicles. With cost in mind we're going to do a bolt up frame with a bolt up cage and prices of consideration yeah it's a very big one ease of installation and assembly is a massive one there's so many designs out there that you'll have a field day not knowing which to do. A son's method is so simple it's gonna make you sick his method is so simple. The frame and the roll cage the cage itself all of it has a bolt holes that are pre drilled or attachments for your panels and it's not left up to you you just bolt it on it's RTA almost 100 percent the whole vehicle the only things you have to do in clue things on. The rest of it is just like Ikea you're getting a car that you just bolt together and stitch with melding adhesive we did decide that that's necessary people cannot rent welding machines they don't know how to use them not somebody

He is encouraging our people to enter the contest and people out where we are to enter the contest and he wants people out here then to the contest we'll have first second and third place for this particular contest we are going to have a huge huge kit car We'll have a series that leads up to it and we will make sure that we understand that we will be making small ones all over the place and we're gonna be a major sponsor and these things will have sponsors and we want sponsors to get it together and they'll see sponsors Start selling product. we re in poosiion to sell and have stock on our products we shall accept the winner and work ouit details. but do have sweet prizes. and manufacturing deals are nice cheap and forthtright. shipping is a parameter of the contest. and we use this his idea. and he shall design it and after the Bradley GT 1 and Hera is heading it up has time no but ok hahaha lol and i was headnig up cars helped alot and now ok i have a chair and good. i see it and the position. i have held too. now good. and he shall redesign it now all bolt up and soon my husband will approach ikea for hs pay for helping and to ask about his car after he wins lol ok ahaha lol. they say no way and laugh. full kit. engine too and transmissoin shell cage frame and all the other stuff and are exicited and no dont have car stuff haahah lol. and will do a promo and incldue an Ikea item smoking chair and they see it good. and class they accept. we do this now and they like it. a payment and such. and we do this shorlt. need an engine he has ideas. and two or threee good models. nice.

fuel economy too

Hera

andwe said the top part this is a go now too

Thor Freya

Olympus

we roll. and it is good i see it needed this. and we are right it is heavy. but we can do it. need to roll it out ad move and we call up the group. get them going. need thier designs in all have a go between. adn need it shortly and we shall handout the rules and so on. and we see them why and so on they know. this is right we do this.

Savage Oppress

we make second and he picks us up too good or third

trump ahahah cant make first and good we see but we do get it

and u s too prob me doing his and yeh ok yup

bg and i did it with the vaydor and works. yes i see it too eed it and hahaha small wooden and now i do see

Olympus

[chikucab21]

Rent a car for local and outstation trip in Bareilly

Introduction

Car rental is a popular way of traveling in the major cities of India. A car is a vehicle that comes in many ranges according to the various traveling needs of the customer who can be a tourist or just a general customer. Car rental is popular because the cost of traveling is very cheap and it is always available for the services of the customers. Renting a car has amazing benefits. The first and foremost benefit of car rental in Bareilly is that it is a convenient way of traveling in the city. Car rental has generally three basic types which range from solo traveling cabs, to cabs for small group and large group traveling car rentals. Chiku Cab makes car rental available for each class of customers with its customer-focused services and affordability.

Car rental for local trip

Chiku Cab offers cabs for local trips to customers in reliable packages. The local car rental in Bareilly will take the customer to the chosen places in the city which may be a wedding function, a monument, a statue of some famous personality, and many more such places. One will also go to the local markets for shopping useful and popular things from Bareilly Market. The local cab can be hired by the Chiku cab which is available on the Play Store. You can take the local car rental to take the worship of Lord Shiva from the Alakhnath temple which is a major attraction for tourists in Bareilly.

Outstation car on rent

You can take the outstation taxi if you want to explore the beautiful sites in Nainital. In this outstation trip, you will see many wonderful gardens, Monuments, palaces, and forests and you also will enjoy the famous foods in Nainital. The tourist can also choose other outstation places such as Jim Corbett National Park which is a national park and famous for tigers. You will see many rare tigers in the park. You can come to the Jim Corbett National Park and from the ticket counter you can take an affordable ticket to see these tigers and many other animals as well as birds.

The advantages of car rental

Car rental is for sure a very convenient vehicle for various uses in Bareilly. The hatchback category of car rental will provide enough space for the solo traveler, the sedan cabs are useful for small group travels ad the tempo traveler is a fine choice for large group travellers. So the torus can decide on which cab he wants to hire for the journey in Bareilly. Each cab type ahs its own unique feature and benefit. One can also choose to explore more places if one has gone to Bareilly and then decided to explore more. One can choose to explore the local villages and learn about the people who are living in the villages, their lifestyle, and culture. One will have the joy of seeing the famous temples of their adorable gods they can come to the Trivati Nath temple which is really a devotional destination.

How to book car on rent in Bareilly with Chiku cab

Booking the car rental service in Bareilly with Chiku cab is very simple and responsive. One just has to folly the steps which are given below to book their dream car rental for an awesome journey in Bareilly:

Chiku cab has many ways in which the customer can book car rentals. One of the processes is by downloading the Chiku cab app or by clicking on the link of the company which will directly redirect the customer to the booking page. One can also contact and book cab by calling at the giver contact number of customer care.

Once you have opened the booking page of the company website then you will see the services that the company offers, choose the car rental that you want for the trip in Bareilly.

After selecting the car rental, now click on the booking button and pay the price of the services. And start your journey with Chiku cab in Bareilly.

Conclusion

Car rental fulfills many basic requirements of the customers with ease. Affordability of car rental is a very big issue for the middle class and poor people but the prices of car rentals are so much affordable that even the general people can afford them. This affordability makes them fulfill their dream of traveling to the top places in Bareilly and for attending the marriage of their relatives. This is the reason which makes Chiku cab stand out as the leading car rental service in Bareilly. One can rely of the car rental if one has chosen a cab service provider that offers affordable and licensed car rentals in Bareilly.

[female-malice]

“Ecomodernist” thinkers, clustered at institutions like the Breakthrough Institute, look to elide the question of consumption by pointing to still far-off technologies that promise to make bourgeois abundance accessible to the masses—a “politics of more,” as geographer Matt Huber has put it. Asteroid mining or nuclear fusion, for instance—where there have been exciting recent breakthroughs—can allow society to transcend its material limits and offer infinity pools and private jets for all.* But even if we accept the premise that these technologies can be scaled up in time to rapidly replace their fossil fueled alternatives (let’s hope so!), that leaves a major question on the table: Is bourgeois consumption good?

In lieu of today’s hyper-individualized forms of energy consumption, Wood, noted, “you can have a city with inclusive mass transit and good building codes that build places that are cheap for people to live in and well insulated. The idea that current energy consumption is the best way to meet our wellbeing is absurd.” But likewise, he added, “It’s a misconception that the goal to reduce energy consumption and resource use requires us to lower our standard of living.” It might just mean living differently.

It’s odd, in that sense, that climate advocates who call for transforming what powers the world—from the Biden administration to the ecomodernists—also imagine tastes for big cars and meat-heavy diets as a fixed part of human brain chemistry. Wood, Lawlor, and Freear’s paper is concerned with a different question: how to equitably distribute goods that should be scarce. But it raises a basic point that climate advocates of various political stripes have been eager to avoid: Consumption does need to change to deal with the climate crisis. And there are not one-to-one substitutes readily available for every facet of carbon-intensive life as we know it. Whether the shift ahead is administered by the invisible hand or an egalitarian state program will determine what life looks like on the other side of the energy transition—whether it’s fair, and whether it happens at all.

[wikifoxnews]

Who was Ashley Diaz ( EMT mom, 29, nearly killed by driver ‘high on fentanyl’ as drug sweeps NYC ) Wiki, Bio, Age, Crime, Incident details, Investigations and More Facts

Ashley Diaz Biography                                             Ashley Diaz Wiki

Ashley Diaz Age

When a suspected fentanyl-rich driver crashed into off-duty EMT Ashley Diaz, the 29-year-old mother knew she had to act quickly or die. Blood spurted from his mutilated right leg and the first officer on the scene applied a tourniquet to stop the bleeding, but it didn't work.

Incident

"I told her it had to be big and tight because my leg was in a condition that no one should ever see," Diaz told the Post of the horrific Sept. 16 incident on Staten Island as she looked during her absence was shot . She. car parked. "They didn't really know how to pull it up my leg. So I just told them, 'Put it here and pull it on as tight as you can.' You didn't tighten it tight enough. As Diaz continued to give directions, he knew it was important to stay conscious. "If I fell asleep, I wouldn't make it," he said. Diaz lost his leg just above the knee. The collision also knocked out his front teeth, leaving him with a fractured shoulder blade, fractured femur, fractured collarbone and lacerations to his face. When doctors arrived, an ER friend who she had worked with at the FDNY "didn't know it was me because I seemed unrecognizable," Diaz said. According to a prosecutor with the Staten Island Attorney's Office, driver Nicole Marino was "severely damaged" by the powerful opioid fentanyl when she rammed Diaz. "If she was really drugged, she was driving..." Diaz said, shaking his head. Fentanyl, he says, “is everywhere. It's really bad. It's the strongest drug. " Marino, 31, who police said did not have a driver's license, now faces 25 years in prison for first-degree assault and has been charged with other crimes, including drug possession for alleged heroin. She remains locked up on Rikers Island after failing to send $100,000 in cash and $200,000, according to Staten Island prosecutors. She pleaded not guilty to all charges and the case was brought back to court on November 15. The tragic accident in Diaz appears to be just another example of how fentanyl has become a major outbreak in the city, law enforcement sources said. "As this tragic case has shown us, the impact of fentanyl on our streets extends beyond those who use it," said Staten Island Attorney Michael McMahon. "And an increased risk of injury to drivers, pedestrians, our first responders and especially our children needs to be addressed by our legislators and law enforcement agencies across the state." "It's a serious threat to the public," added Adam Wandt, a professor at John Jay College who is studying drugs with support from a US Department of Justice grant. “We need to address this as a public health issue because there is an almost limitless supply of this stuff. It's so cheap and so easy to carry. Drug dealers "now mix fentanyl with cocaine and even spray it on marijuana."

According to the CDC

According to the CDC, 2,540 New York state residents died from a synthetic opioid overdose between May 2021 and May 2022, the most recent month for which numbers are available. That's an increase of 354 of those deaths in the 12 months ended May 2015 -- a 617 percent increase in the past seven years and the largest increase in overdose deaths of any drug, including cocaine, heroin and prescription pills, according to a 'Post analysis ' data found. (The CDC is considering synthetic opioids like fentanyl and tramadol, although experts say virtually all deaths from these synthetic substances are due to fentanyl.) On the day of the incident, Diaz said he bought chocolate-covered strawberries for his mother's birthday and was near his home in Staten Island's New Dorp neighborhood. "I remember opening the car door and I saw this car coming my way. Two seconds and it changed my whole life. It was like a boomerang hitting me and pulling me. FDNY EMS EMT Ashley Diaz was off-duty when a driver allegedly high on fentanyl crashed into her. She lost her leg just above the knee and also suffered a broken scapula, broken femur and broken collar bone.https://t.co/mvl888xYxB — NYC EMS Watch (@NYCEMSwatch) November 8, 2022 Diaz said the driver "came up to me" and tried to blame her for the collision. "He said, 'Oh my God. You came out of nowhere.” I said, "No, you came out of nowhere." And then I started screaming for my mother. Diaz underwent 11 surgeries and spent two weeks in a medically induced coma before recovering Read the full article

[watchmegetobsessed]

Flatmates - Harry Styles

i listened to kiwi while writing it so i strongly advise to listen to is while reading as well. without any further ado, i present you this flatmate!harry fic with some steamy smut!

word count: ~9k

warning: smut

masterlist

You were desperate to find a place to live, to say the least. You’ve always had trouble remembering deadlines and important dates, and thanks to this charming trait of yours, you successfully missed the deadline of the college dormitory applications. After a day of solid panic you started looking for cheap apartments, but living off campus seemed to be something only rich people could afford. Rents were ridiculously high and you were certain you couldn’t afford to spend thousands of dollars for a room smaller than your pantry back at home. You watched ad after ad, making calls all day for a week straight, but at the end, you always went to bed with the thought that you’ll have to live under a bridge through the first semester of your freshman year.

It was until a friend of yours, Rita, who was mature enough to apply to the dormitory in time called you with the best news you could receive.

“This friend of my future roomie is looking for a flat mate. You gave me his number, maybe you could give him a call and see if the room is still available. Just tell him Kimberly gave you his number, I’m sure he’ll offer you the room on a nicer price.”

“Oh my God, you just saved my life!” you gasped, almost feeling like crying. “I owe you big time, Rita!”

You called right away, not wanting to waste any time and maybe have the room already rented by then. A deep, male voice answered the call in a soothing British accent.

“Harry Styles,” he said in a calm tone.

“Hey! My name is Y/N and I got your number from Kimberly. I’m looking for a place to live from September and I was told you have a room to rent?”

Harry sounded a little hesitant at first, asked a few questions about you to have a better picture of you, but eventually offered the room. You quickly agreed that you’d be able to move in at the end of August. You were thankful you had one less worry about school finally.

August rolled around the corner faster than you expected and in no time, half your life was packed up into boxes and suitcases as you and your dad drove two hours on a Saturday to get you all settled in your new home. Up until this point, you hadn’t seen Harry just yet. Though you did search up his name, but he was the kind to never post about himself, but mostly about guitars, landscapes and animals. His Instagram was dry, no trait of what he looked like or even the slightest hint about himself. There was only one photo that featured the outline of a guy, which makes it clear that the person was fully naked, no trace of any clothes hanging on his body, but it was completely dark, so nothing could be really seen. However the tag on the figure made you think it wasn’t him, so it didn’t matter. His Facebook seemed even sadder, barely any posts, not even a decent profile picture. You were surprised to see there are people who don’t really use social media, but you didn’t take it as a bad sign. Harry must be a private person and you had nothing against that.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to move in with a guy you’ve never met before?” your dad asks as the two of you are unloading the car in front of the apartment complex. Glancing up you shrug your shoulders with a little excitement, knowing that you are only minutes away from finally seeing the person you are gonna spend your next months living with.

“He sounded like a decent person, and I really don’t have any other choice, dad. Or do you want me to sleep in a park or something?”

“God, no. You really should be more careful about those deadlines next time,” he sighs kissing the top of your head before shutting the back of the car once everything is set on the ground.

“Don’t worry, I already bought a calendar so I can keep better track of everything.”

When you first told your parents that you’d be living with Harry, they didn’t seem to be a fan of the idea, but they realized you weren’t really swimming in options at the moment so they eventually come to peace that their daughter is going to be living with a guy. They didn’t make a big deal out of it, knowing well you were an adult now practically who can make choices for herself.

The two of you manage to bring everything up to the third floor and you ring the doorbell since you don’t have your keys yet. You immediately recognize Harry’s British accent as he calls out a “coming!” from the other side of the door and a few seconds later it opens, revealing him.

Your first thought is that he is tall. Very tall and oh my! How handsome! His green eyes find your gaze and his dimples come out as he smiles at you happily. This man is surely a nice sight, you think to yourself, but you quickly bring yourself back to reality as he takes a look at all the stuff surrounding you.

“Y/N, why didn’t you call me that you were here? I could have helped you!” Taking a step outside he stretches his hand out for your dad. “Nice to meet ya, you must be Mr. Y/L/N. I’m Harry.”

“Nice to meet you,” your dad nods at him shaking his head before Harry grabs a box from the floor himself, holding the door open for you.

“Come on in!”

The three of you quickly bring everything inside from the hallway and you finally have a moment to look around. It’s not a big apartment, but seemingly perfect for two people. Walking in you have a small kitchen on the left and a little dining area on the right with a simple table and four chairs around it. Further inside is the living room, it’s nicely furnished very bright thanks to the large windows across the front door. On the left there’s a door that leads to the bathroom and on the right there’s a small hallway, two doors on each side. The two rooms are exactly the same size, so there was no need to have a discussion about who is getting which room. Not that you were gonna go against Harry when he literally saved your life with letting you stay with him.

The place seems tidy and neat, it’s clear that Harry takes good care of his home and that is for sure a relief.

Your room has a double bed, a desk with a chair, a dresser and a built in little closet. Everything is white or a light beige color, nothing extreme and you already have plans about how you want to decorate it to make it cozier.

“I left two shelves free for you out of the three. I have a few hair products, but I figured you’d need more space,” Harry tells you when you put a smaller box into the bathroom that has all your toiletries.

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” you smile at him.

Your dad sticks around a little longer helping you unpack some of the bigger boxes, then you walk him down to his car before he leaves.

“Please call your mother often. You know how much she worries about you,” he asks as he pulls you into a quick hug.

“Will do.”

“And call us anytime you need help. Two hours is not that far away, I can always come and get you.”

“I’ll be alright, dad, but thank you.”

You watch him climb into the car and he rolls down the windows waving in your way as he leaves from the parking lot. You stand there until he disappears on the corner and then go back up to your apartment.

Harry is sitting in the living room when you get back, some quiet music playing from the Bluetooth speaker as he reads a book. He glances up at you and you flash him a smile closing the door behind you.

“Your dad seemed quite okay with you living with a guy.”

“He had time to get used to it. They’re not that strict though.”

“That’s cool. I was thinking, maybe we could order some food when you’re done unpacking and just get to know each other a little more.”

“That sounds great!” you smile, but can’t ignore how fast your heart is beating in your chest. Harry surely has an effect on you that you’ll need to gain control over if you don’t want to make living together hard for yourself.

It takes quite some time to unpack everything and find the right place for your stuff, you don’t even finish by the time the food arrives so you decide to leave the rest for tomorrow.

The Chinese food is all set on the table when you walk out and Harry is getting two plates for the two of you.

“Settled in?” he asks as you take one of the chairs and he sits across you.

“Not fully, but I’m getting there,” you chuckle as he hands you your order. “Thank you.”

You talk over the food, just getting to know each other and you finally get a better picture of Harry. It’s his third year of college, he is studying music and pedagogy, intending to one day use music as a helping tool for kids who have learning difficulties. He is a big fan of collecting vinyls and quite passionate about trashy rom coms.

“Really?” you chuckle when he mentions how his Netflix queue is filled with romantic movies.

“Guilty pleasure,” he nods smirking.

You tell a little about yourself too and he seems genuinely interested, which feels nice. You would have hated if he found your interests boring and negligible, but that’s not the case.

“How come you couldn’t find a roommate for so long?” you ask the question that’s been in the back of your mind for quite a while now. Both of you are done eating and you’re cleaning up the table.

Nothing really stood out about Harry just yet, it’s quite a mystery for you why he couldn’t find someone to live with him.

“Well, you could say I’m a little picky in this field. Lived with my best mate first year, and though I absolutely love him, he was horrible to live with. Felt like his personal maid the whole time. When Niall moved in with his girlfriend and I had to move on my own I promised myself I would choose carefully. Lived with a PhD student last year, he was pretty great, but he moved out when he graduated, and I couldn’t really find someone I liked since then.”

“Glad I passed then,” you chuckle as you take the dishes and start washing them while Harry stands next to you, leaning against the edge of the counter.

“You seemed like a decent person to live with, I hope I won’t be wrong about that,” he chuckles, but you can tell he is still a little scared you might turn out to be a total asshole.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be too much trouble. I’m quiet like a mouse and clean up after myself.”

“That’s all that matters,” he smiles. “Alright, I have some things to finish, I’ll be in my room if you need help with anything.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

He waves in your way before disappearing in his bedroom.

You spend most of your Sunday unpacking what was left and running errands, buying groceries so you don’t have to go to the store every other day during the week. You occasionally meet Harry in the kitchen or the living room, but you both just do your own thing and it’s totally fine by you.

School starts quiet smoothly, Harry was kind enough to give you a rundown of where you’ll find your lecture halls so you don’t really get lost around campus, easily finding your way.

Friday afternoon you and Rita are sitting at a café near campus to discuss the first week of school. You don’t have any classes together, so only grabbed lunch two times all week, but didn’t have more than twenty minutes together before one of you had to run to a class. Now you are both comfortably sat in a booth with two cappuccinos and plenty of time to talk.

“So, how is living with Harry?” she curiously asks.

“He is great! Though we don’t meet that much. He has a band so he has practice three times a week, spends the rest of his time at home reading or watching TV.”

You ate dinner together twice this week, but you haven’t really had the courage to join him in the living room when he was watching TV. It sounds stupid but you figured maybe it would bother him if you were out there with him. And since he didn’t invite you either, you just stayed in your room mostly.

“Kimberly told me he is hot, is that true?” she asks with a smirk as she takes a sip from her hot drink. You immediately feel your cheeks heating up.

“Well, he surely is a good looking guy,” you breathe out.

“Lucky you! There’s not much of those in an all girls dorm,” she pouts and you chuckle. “So are you gonna make a move on him?”

“That’s not gonna happen,” you shake your head laughing.

“Why not?”

“Because we live together and if he rejects me that would be so awkward for the rest of our time living together.”

“But you can’t know for sure if he would reject,” she points out, but she can’t bring up one thing that would change your mind.

“It’s better not to take the odds. I don’t want to end up on the street.”

 As the days go by, things start to get busier in your everydays. Assignments and papers start to pile up so you have to start working on them if you don’t want to leave everything to the last moment. You become a regular in the library, the atmosphere is great for you to get into the flow and get a lot of work done.

It seems like Harry is in the same shoe, he is often in and out of the apartment, sometimes only spends home just a couple of minutes before he leaves again. However they slowly get accustomed to each other, learn the ways the other likes things and work up a schedule for things. Harry learns that Y/N likes to take a shower twice a day and washes her hair usually on Wednesdays and Sundays, so he doesn’t try to take too much time in the bathroom on those days. He also notices how she doesn’t have time to wash the dishes after herself on Thursdays when she just runs home to have a quick bite before she has to leave for another lecture, so they came to a silent agreement where Harry cleans up after her on Thursdays while she takes up on the dishes on Saturday when Harry leaves to band practice at eight.

They work well together and soon enough all of Harry’s doubts about Y/N fade into nothing and he realizes he has made the right choice with her.

Usually she stays at the library until seven on Mondays, but this week they are closing early because they are rearranging a whole department, so Y/N leaves a little after five. She pays a quick trip to the grocery store before she heads home. Opening up the door she immediately hears the music playing, one of Harry’s vinyls is twirling around in the record player and she hears the water running in the bathroom. Setting her bags on the counter she starts unpacking the groceries.

The music and the running water pushed the sound of her arriving down, Harry didn't realize that you were home early when he opens the bathroom door, singing to himself wearing absolutely nothing as he wants to go and grab a pair of clean underwear, but he is shocked to see you standing in the kitchen.

“Shit!” he snaps, hands immediately flying to cover himself as he sprints back to the bathroom quickly grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist.

Your cheeks are heating up immediately even though you didn’t see anything you weren’t supposed to, the counter top covered him just right above the critical line, but it’s the first time you’ve seen his upper body completely naked.

Even though it was just a spit second, the sight of his many tattoos and the defined V-line leading down to his crotch burned straight into your mind, leaving you flustered and shy all of a sudden.

“Sorry! I should have let you know I was coming home early!” you call out turning around, as if he was about to walk out naked again. Harry chuckles lightly as he returns, this time a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Don’t be silly, you don’t have to check in when you come home. It was my fault, I shouldn’t just walk around naked assuming you wouldn’t be home.”

You should, you think to yourself gulping as you turn around and dare to look at him again. You don’t see less than just a few seconds ago, his chest is glistening from the dampness, his curls are still wet and you are having a hard time not to stare at the tattoos on his lower stomach, so you busy yourself with the rest of your groceries as he walks into his room and returns in a pair of sweats and a white t-shirt.

“Any plans for the weekend?” he asks disappearing in the bathroom, but he leaves the door open and you hear him shuffle around, probably fixing up his hair. He uses some kind of mousse that keeps his curls perfectly and also happens to smell like mango and some kind of citrus.

“Um, not really.”

“We’re playing at this bar with the band, wanna come and watch us?” Walking out of the bathroom he switches the light off before walking to the couch and opening up his Netflix account on the TV. His invitation surprises you, but it also feels nice he wants you there.

“Oh, sounds fun! Can I bring someone?”

“Of course! I can have a table reserved for you, if you’d like,” he smiles at you before turning his attention to the screen.

“That would be great, thanks.”

You feel like after your little encounter it’s probably not the best day to join him at the TV, especially because you can’t stop yourself from blushing every time you look at him. The sight of his naked torso pops up in your mind every time and there’s no way you can just casually sit on the couch with him without your body lighting up on fire.

 Rita is excited when you tell her about the invitation, you don’t even have to convince her to go with you since she is dying to finally meet Harry. When he leaves in the early afternoon on Saturday he assures you that there’s gonna be a table reserved under your name, and off he goes to practice, leaving you alone for the rest of the day since he tells you he won’t be back before the concert tonight. Rita comes over around six and the two of you get ready together.

“You have to wear something spicy,” she wiggles her eyebrows at you while you sit at your desk applying mascara to your lashes.

“I don’t want to overdress, it’s just a bar.”

“Yeah, but Harry invited you. I bet he wants you to see him play.”

“Of course he wants, why else would he invite me?” you ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“You don’t get it,” she chuckles turning to you, hands on her hips. “He wants you to see him play because it feeds his ego. Maybe even turns him on.”

“Stop acting like there is anything between us. We are flatmates and that’s all.”

“I think he wants to be more, you’re just too pussy to make a move yourself,” she shrugs turning back to your closet.

“Stop calling me a pussy for not wanting to make it awkward for the two of us to live together. I’m pretty sure Harry doesn’t see me as anything more than just the person he lives with.”

“Then we have to change that. And I think this is the perfect dress for that.”

Rita pulls out a little black dress you bought about a year ago, but never really got around to wear it. It’s so tight, pushes your tits up way too much for your liking, you’re not even sure why you bought it in the first place.

“I’m not wearing that,” you shake your head.

“Are you afraid he might get a boner from you in it?”

“Rita!” you snap at her, but she just chuckles.

“Look, if you’re so sure he doesn’t want you like that, why does it matter what you wear?”

She has a point. It’s not like this dress will change anything and it would be nice to wear at least once in your life this stupid dress if you bought it.

Grabbing it from her hands you throw it to the bed and start undressing as she claps in victory.

You remembered right, the dress leaves close to nothing to the imagination when it comes to your figure. The fabric hugs your figure tightly, and you put on a lacy bralette that peeks out at the top of the dress, kind of covering some more from your skin, since the dress doesn’t do much in that field itself. Rita tries to convince you not to take a jacket, but you throw your denim jacket on, feeling the need to have something give you the slightest sense of being covered.

You arrive at the bar twenty minutes before the concert starts and it’s a good thing Harry reserved a table for you, because the place is packed. You’re not sure if it’s because of them or it’s just a regular Saturday evening.

The little stage is all set up, but you see no sign of Harry anywhere as the two of you settle at your table with a drink. Luckily, the bartender did not ask for an ID, he was too busy looking at your chest. At least there’s one good thing in this dress.

The drum set at the back has the name of the band on it and you smile reading it. The word ‘Stylish’ is printed on it with bold blue letters, referring to Harry’s last name, who is most likely the front man of the band.

The place is buzzing and the two of you enjoy being out at a bar concert. When the lights go down you finally spot him walking out of the back followed by a guy and two girls.

“Welcome, folks,” he greets the audience, his accent filling up the place over the chatters. A round of cheering answers him, making him smile. “Thank you for coming out tonight, we hope to entertain you in the next hour. Our name is Stylish and now let’s get down to business,” he smirks and just as he takes a step back from the mic, the band starts playing. Harry grabs a guitar himself before stepping back to the mic and then he starts singing.

They play a mixture of covers and original songs, the transition between them is so smooth you sometimes forget it’s a whole different song that’s playing. Harry is clearly enjoying the spotlight, his presence on the stage is so natural and capturing, you often catch yourself forgetting about the rest of the band.

One song follows the other and you don’t even realize how fast this hour passes by. Harry sometimes stops in-between songs, entertaining the audience with small jokes and just casually interacting with them.

“Our last song is up next, so let me take a moment to introduce the band,” Harry speaks into the mic while softly playing the guitar so it’s not completely quiet as he talks. “At the drums, the amazing and talented Sarah Jones!”

A round of applause fills the bar as Sara waves around smiling widely, before Harry moves on to the next member.

“Playing the piano, the wonderful Charlotte Clark!”

Charlotte plays a short melody on the keys matching up with what Harry has been playing, before she also waves at the audience.

“The guy who is a way better guitarist than me, Mitch Rowland.”

Harry’s comment makes the audience laugh and Mitch just nods shyly, a smile pulling on his lips under his mustache.

“And this handsome Brit who sometimes acts like a comedian,” Sarah starts leaning closer to her mic. “Harry Styles.”

It’s no surprise that Harry gets the biggest cheering and he smirks sweetly, his fingers still strumming on the guitar. The clapping and screaming slowly dies down and as Harry steps back to his mic they start the last song.

It’s quite an upbeat, funky song, you just can’t resist dancing around on your chair and seemingly Rita is enjoying herself as well, cheering with her beer in her hand. The song comes to an end and they all line up at the front of the stage bowing down together as the whole bar cheers on them as one person.

“Woah, this was… something else,” Rita breathes out once they disappear at the back and chatter fills up the place once again and the lights come back.

“They smashed it!” you nod in agreement. You figured they are good if they get asked to perform, but this was way beyond what you were expecting.

Looking around you are hoping to see Harry somewhere, but they must be celebrating somewhere at the back. Maybe he won’t even come out, you think to yourself as you finish up your beer.

“I’ll get us another round,” you tell Rita as you make your way to the bar.

There are quite a few people waiting to be served, so you squeeze yourself into the crowd and hope to get to the front soon.

“So how did you like it?”

You jump in surprise when you hear Harry’s voice coming from behind you, and turning around you see how close he is standing to you.

“Hi! I didn’t even see you sneak up on me,” you chuckle making him smile as he squeezes himself next to you. The two of you finally reach the front, but the bartender is serving someone a little on the left so you have to wait. “I loved it, you were like a proper rockstar up there!”

“Thanks,” he chuckles and his dimples show up on his cheeks. The bartender finally gets to you and Harry is quick to order for the both of you. “’S probably better if I place the order since you’re not twenty one just yet.”

“Didn’t have any problem ordering the first time,” you smirk smugly and Harry raises his eyebrows at you before his eyes wander down your body for a second.

“I bet you didn’t in this dress.”

Suddenly, you’re very aware of how daring your outfit looks, so out of reflex, you pull your jacket tighter on yourself, Harry’s smile quickly fades as he realizes that he made you uncomfortable with his comment.

“I meant that you look really pretty. Definitely makes you appear a little older though.”

“My friend wanted me to wear it, I would have been fine with something else,” you admit as the bartender places your order in front of you and Harry pays for the whole thing.

“Glad she convinced you,” he grins down at you and you can feel your cheeks heating up once again.

He helps you carry the drinks to the table and Rita quickly puts her phone away when she sees who you are returning with.

“Harry, this is my friend, Rita. Rita, this is Harry,” you introduce them and Harry shakes her head smiling.

“Nice to meet you,” he nods kindly.

“Oh, same goes for you,” Rita smirks and you roll your eyes at her.

“I’ll go get the rest of the band, do you mind if we join you guys here? There are no empty tables.”

“Sure,” you nod smiling before the crowd swallows Harry.

“For fuck’s sake, you have to make a move on him, Y/N!” Rita turns to you as soon as he is gone.

“Would you stop?” you chuckle.

“No! This dude is so hot I forget my name when I look at him! And you live with him! You can’t miss this chance, Y/N.”

“I’m not missing anything. We live together, it’s not worth it.”

“Not missing anything?” Rita looks at you as if you were mental. “You are literally missing everything!”

“I’m done with this conversation,” you tell him just when Harry appears again, this time with two of his bandmates, Sarah and Mitch are following him smiling, hand in hand.

“Charlotte had to leave early, but this is Sarah and Mitch,” Harry introduces them as they join the two of you at the table. “And this is my flatmate, Y/N and her friend Rita.”

You all shake hands as Harry sorts out the extra beers he has ordered so everyone has a drink on their hand.

It’s no surprise, but Sarah and Mitch prove themselves to be just as cool as they seemed up on the stage. And the best thing is that they don’t shy away from sharing funny stories that include Harry.

“So have you been looking for a new place to stay, Y/N?” Mitch jokes. “I’m sure you’ve had enough of Harry by now.”

“Very funny,” Harry laughs at his bandmate’s comment.

“To be honest it’s pretty fine so far. He is a pleasant person to share your home with,” you say with a soft chuckle.

“What’s one thing you hate about living with him?” Sarah asks and Harry pretends to be hurt over the question.

“Who said there’s anything she hates?”

“Shush, I was asking her!” she hushes at him making you laugh.

“I really can’t point out anything in particular. Maybe he has been very careful, luring me into believing that he is the perfect flatmate so I get stuck with him.”

You stay for a while, just chatting and having a good time until the bar starts to empty out and you decide it’s better if you head home as well.

“We have to take care of the equipment, are you leaving or do you want to wait for me?” Harry asks you.

“We’ll just call an Uber, don’t worry about it,” you smile at him.

“Alright, see you at home.”

You say goodbye to Sarah and Mitch and part your ways with them as you and Rite head outside.

“I hope you noticed how Harry was looking at you,” Rita smirks at you when the two of you are sitting at the back of the Uber.

“What are you talking about?” you sigh leaning your head against the seat.

“I caught him staring at you quite a few times.”

“He was just probably looking at me when I was talking. Don’t try to talk something into it that’s not true.”

“Alright, I’ll stop,” she replies holding up her hands. “But I still think you are missing out on some amazing dick.”

You awkwardly glance at the driver who is hearing everything you say, but Rita seemingly doesn’t mind that you’re not alone.

“You know what? We should give Tinder a try.”

“What? Why?”

“If you don’t want to make a move on your hot flatmate, we need to get some satisfaction from others.”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Oh, you are not,” she chuckles. “But you will be when you match with the hottest guys on campus.”

You let Rita believe that she convinced you to sign up for Tinder, but you get out of the car with the intention of never downloading the app, like ever.

Walking into the apartment you grab a clean, oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties since your sleeping shorts are all dirty, but you were planning to do the laundry tomorrow. You decide it’s not a big deal and the shirt will probably cover enough of your body.

You take a quick shower to get off the thick smell of the bar that’s stuck on your skin, taking your time moisturizing yourself once you’re done. When you get dressed you see that the shirt does cover your bum, but if you lifted your arms up it surely shows a big portion of your ass, so you’ll have to be careful if Harry arrives.

You’re lounging on the couch watching a rerun of House M.D. and scrolling through your phone when Harry arrives.

“Hey there, rockstar!” you greet him teasingly and he just chuckles shyly.

“Is it gonna be my new nickname?”

“Well, you really were one tonight, so I think yes,” you nod making him laugh. Walking further inside his eyes stop on your bare legs and he is quick to notice that you’re not wearing any pants, like you usually do. You immediately tug on the end of the shirt to cover more of your skin, but it’s not really working.

“Ehm, I’ll go and take a quick shower,” he informs you before disappearing in his room first and then rushing into the bathroom.

Looking down at your attire you decide it’ll be better if you threw on some sweats. Harry clearly got a little uncomfortable seeing you so bare, so it’s better to cover up. You’ll just take them off when you go to bed.

Harry doesn’t take too long in there, and when he joins you on the couch you are pretty sure he took a cold shower since no steam followed him when he left the bathroom. His eyes flicker to your now covered legs, but he doesn’t say anything, just makes himself comfortable next to you.

“You like it?” he asks nodding at the TV.

“Yeah, he is such an asshole, but it’s funny,” you huff. “Hey, I took a few pictures tonight. Wanna see if you like any of them?”

“Sure,” he nods pushing himself up a little as you unlock your phone and show him the photos you took of him and the band while performing.

Some of them ended up really cool, you were able to catch the lights and their movements just the right way, especially one stands out where he was holding out a note, basically screaming into the mic, he really looks like a rockstar on that one.

“Can you send me this one?”

“Done,” you smile at him and glancing over you see that he opens the Instagram app on his phone. You watch him crop and adjust it a little bit, then tag his bandmates and finally, he posts it.

“Wow, this is the first picture on your page with you actually on it,” you tease him.

“So you’ve been stalking my profile?” he smirks at you.

“I wanted to check you out before I moved in, but your social media was no help in that.”

“Yeah, I’m not a fan of posting that much, but this was a cool picture.”

“It’s an honor to know that I took the first one featuring you.”

“Actually, this is the second one, but it is the first one where my face is visible,” Harry tells you before turning his attention back to the TV, but the gears start to turn wildly in your mind, trying to remember which picture could be the other one.

Later, when you’re lying in your bed with your door closed, you pull up his profile and stat scrolling down. Most of the pictures fall out, because they have absolutely no trace of any human being on them. But then you stop at the one that features a black silhouette of a man, the one you thought wasn’t him.

Opening up you tap on the tag and see that it leads to Mitch’s profile, but now that you’ve met him, you’re pretty sure it’s not him in the picture. So you take a closer look and as you go over the small details, like the line of his neck, how wide his shoulders are and the untamed curls, you soon realize that it is indeed Harry in the photo.

You push down a moan when realization sets in, because that means that you’re staring at the naked silhouette of Harry and it immediately starts a fire between your legs.

“Jesus,” you whisper as you let yourself stare at the photo a little longer. You weren’t expecting it, but it’s surely making you feel some kind of way.

Locking your phone you throw it to your nightstand before you bury your head into your pillow. You have to press your thighs together quite tightly to make the throbbing sensation stop so you can finally fall asleep. Well, it takes some time before that happens and it’s quite torturous.

  Unlike how you planned, Rita finally gets you to download Tinder and give it a try. She helps you set up your profile, and though at first it feels incredibly awkward, you slowly adjust to being out there on the virtual market.

You start swiping left and right whenever you are bored during classes or you’re having a break from studying. Your matches start to pile up and soon enough you start getting messages as well. You reply to the ones you like or find funny and creative, giving them a chance, but not many end up going too far. Somehow the conversations always die down and you lose interest in the person.

Only one guy gets as far as asking you out and getting a yes as an answer. Jordan is a physics major and seemed like a nice and funny guy through the messages, good-looking too, so you decided to give it a go.

So Friday evening you dolled yourself up, put on a nice blouse with your favorite skinny jeans and black heels, ready to head out to your first ever Tinder date.

As you walk out of your room you find Harry in the kitchen in his basketball shorts and a simple black t-shirt making himself a cup of tea. The shorts are hanging low on his waist and as he reaches up to get the hones from the cupboard you get a glimpse of the soft skin on his lower waist. You quickly look away before you could have any further thoughts about what else is under the waistband of his shorts.

“Oh, where are you heading all dressed up?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“I actually have a date,” you admit nervously as you grab your keys and put it away in your purse.

“Lucky guy,” he smiles and you can feel your cheeks heating up again. There’s just something in the way he compliments you, it makes your knees go jelly.

“Thanks. I’ll see you later? I’m not sure when I’ll be back,” you tell him grabbing your jacket from the hanger next to the front door.

“Have fun,” he nods before you walk out.

 Jordan proves himself to be quite frankly the same guy you got to know through messages. He takes you to this Mexican themed bar and you are just chatting over some exciting looking cocktails, but you find yourself zoning out sometimes.

What is Harry doing right now? Is he staying at home? I should have asked if he had any plans. Maybe he is hooking up with someone right now.

You find yourself thinking about way more than you probably should and it’s making you lose your shit. So maybe this is why, or because Rita told you to just go with the flow, but when Jordan asks if you want to go up to his place you say yes.

It’s as awkward and bad as you were expecting, unfortunately. There’s a reason why you don’t hook up with every random guy you go out with once. You are totally on different pages, but when you are lying under him on his bed, you just know there’s no way out.

It’s not that he forces you, because you’re sure he would have stopped if you asked, but it would be so awkward to just walk out because you weren’t feeling the vibe. So at least one of you should enjoy it.

You should deserve an Oscar for that orgasm you fake, it’s so believable. Jordan doesn’t seem to notice that you felt absolutely nothing, just frustration and impatience, he tries to make you stay the night, but you save yourself with a lie that you have to wake up early in the morning so it’s best if you head home.

Your frustration just grows on your way home. You were really hoping to get laid tonight, so maybe that could stop you from fantasizing about Harry, because your thoughts have been wild since you found out that he is the one on that Instagram picture. It doesn’t help that he has been walking around shirtless quite a lot.

Shameful or not, you even touched yourself once thinking about him. You were home alone after a particularly boring day so you thought you’d just get yourself off. Before you could realize where your thoughts have wandered, you were moaning his name as you came hard. You couldn’t look into his eyes that day when he came home, he probably thought you were nuts, basically running away from him.

It’s almost midnight when you get back home, you were expecting Harry to be asleep by now since he has band practice in the morning, but you are surprised to see light coming from his room. As you close the front door, kicking your heels off he walks out, of course, without a shirt, his glorious body on full display.

“Hey, how was your date?” he asks as you step to the fridge to get yourself something to drink. You’ve been so damn thirsty since Jordan was… done with you, you could have asked for some water at least, but you just wanted to leave as fast as possible.

“Ugh, don’t even ask,” you whine, leaning against the counter.

“That bad?”

“Worse,” you roll your eyes and Harry chuckles softly.

“Come on, it couldn’t be that bad if you came home so late.”

“Well, it did start off nice, but I shouldn’t have said yes when he asked if I wanted to go to his place.”

“Oh.”

“Worst sex of my life, I wanted out the moment we arrived, to be honest,” you honestly say, feeling a little weird that you’re talking to Harry about it, but you just want to get it off your chest.

“Then why didn’t you just leave?”

“Dunno, I just… I was hoping for just a little satisfaction, but I guess I asked for too much,” you sigh finishing up your water and you walk past him with the intention to grab your pajamas and have a shower that would wash away the happenings of the night, but Harry’s voice stops you.

“Not everything is lost just yet.” Turning around you give him a puzzled look.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He bites into his bottom lip and lets his eyes travel down your body, his intent gaze sends a shiver down your spine. When his eyes return to your gaze your heart is wildly beating against your chest.

“I mean that… I can make you feel good, if you want.”

Your mouth hangs open and your eyebrows shoot up at the blunt offer he just made. At first you’re not even sure you heard him right, but as you replay his words you realize that you indeed heard him crystal clear.

“Are you messing with me right now?” you ask, feeling like it’s all just a joke. He did not just offer to satisfy you because you complained to him about how bad your date was.

Harry takes a few steps closer to you, a small smirk tugging on his lips.

“Not really. You want to get off and I would love to be the one to help you with it.”

“But… we live together,” you say and realize how stupid this just sounded, but you hope he gets what you were trying to say.

“So? Does that mean we can’t fuck?”

The way he said that makes your legs go weak for sure. You’ve been fantasizing about things similar to this, but those were nowhere near to actually hear him propose the idea of fucking.

“But… it’ll be weird, won’t it?”

“Only if we make it.”

He walks closer, closing the distance between the two of you and he cups your cheek in his hand as his eyes flicker down to your lips.

“Harry…” you breathe out, but you already know you gave in. There’s no way you can say him no, not after weeks of dreaming about the exact same thing.

“Just stop thinking,” he tells you before pressing his lips against yours.

He kisses you hard and you gladly let his tongue push into your mouth within a second, kissing him back with the same passion. You wrap your arms around his neck as his hands travel down on your sides until they reach your ass and they give it a bold squeeze, making you moan into his lips. You feel him grin as his hands move over to your thighs and he urges you to jump and so you do, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Though you keep your eyes closed, kissing him hard, you can tell he brings you to the couch, laying you down to your back, holding himself up above you. He starts kissing down your jawline and neck, sucking and biting on the sensitive skin. His hands grab the hem of your shirt and you lift yourself up a bit so he can pull it off, throwing it away to somewhere behind the couch. While his lips are sucking on your breasts wherever they are bulging out from the lacy bra, his hands work fast on your jeans, undoing the button and the zipper, tugging them down until you can just kick them right off.

“Matching set? You were really counting on having a good time tonight,” he mumbles against your tummy as he kisses his way down on your body.

His right hand reaches up and cups your breast before it slides under you and easily unclasps your bra. You quickly slide the straps off and throw it to the side, so now you are lying under him only in your panties, whimpering and panting at every kiss he leaves on your body.

“What do you want, Y/N?” he hums glancing up at you, sitting between your legs as he slides just one finger over your soaking wet panties, running it along your throbbing center.

“Fuck, I want you,” you breathe out.

“How exactly do you want me?”

“Jesus, just eat me out, Harry!” you shamelessly moan and he smugly smirks before he hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them down, throwing it to the ground.

Now you’re lying completely naked in front of him, and he pushes your knees farther apart, looking down at you with lustful eyes.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this,” he growls as he gets closer and without a warning, he licks into you.

You moan in sensation as he starts sucking on your clit, his tongue working perfectly against your bud. Your hands find their way into his hair and you grab a handful of it in each. Oh, how many times you’ve thought about doing this!

“Harry!” you cry out when you feel him push a finger into you, slowly pumping it in and out a few times before he adds another to it. He quickly picks up his pace as he keeps sucking on your clit, getting you closer to your orgasm with every lick.

“Fuck, I’m so close!” you moan, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you struggle to even breathe.

“Cum for me, baby,” he mumbles against your wet clit and just a few more pumps later you came, screaming his name.

“Fucking hell, Harry!” you breathe out when he climbs up on you smirking.

“You think you can handle another one?” he asks, pecking your lips softly. Looking down you see how hard he is and even if you were on the verge of dying you would have said yes. There’s no way you let him get up from this couch unsatisfied after the orgasm he just gave you.

Instead of saying anything, you push on him until he is sitting on the couch and you have your knees on his sides.

“I think you are a little overdressed, aren’t you?” you ask teasingly as you bring a hand down to his erection, cupping it through his shorts and underwear.

Harry cranes his neck so his lips could meet yours again as he lifts his hips up, pushing his shorts down along with his boxers. You sit back down to his lap and his erection presses against your wet folds making you moan into his mouth.

“Do you want me to suck you off?” you ask breathlessly, but Harry shakes his head.

“I would last, I just want to fuck you,��� he growls and you swear to God that was the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

“Condom, we need a condom,” you tell him, still kissing his lips.

You get off him and he quickly runs into his room, shortly returning with a condom between his teeth. He rips the package on his way and falls back to the couch, rolling it on carefully. When he is done you swing your leg over him and get on top again, holding onto his broad shoulders. He grabs the base of his cock and lines himself up to your center and you give yourself a moment to admire his naked beauty right in front of you.

You look into his sparkling eyes and leaning down you kiss him hard as you slowly ease down to his length, his cock slowly filling you up fully.

“Oh fuck!” he moans at the feeling of you around him. His fingers dig deep into your waist as you stay still for a few moments, adjusting to his length. “You alright?” he asks breathlessly. Your eyes meet his and you nod a little before you start moving.

It takes a few moments to find the right pace and get yourself comfortable, but when you finally do, you just can’t stop. His hands are on your ass as he guides your hips a little and you feel the rings on his fingers against your heated skin. He buries his face into your neck nibbling and kissing on the soft skin wherever he reaches.

“Fuck, you look so fucking hot, Y/N,” he grunts when you let your head fall back, feeling your orgasm slowly building up again.

“Harry, I’m gonna cum again,” you pant, picking up a faster pace, desperate for release.

“Cum for me, baby. Let me make you feel good!” he moans wrapping his arms around you as he holds you still, stopping you from moving, but instead he starts thrusting into you, his cock buries so deep into your pussy, your eyes roll back into your head from the feeling.

“Yes! Don’t fucking stop!” you scream as he keeps fucking you hard.

It doesn’t take too long until you fall completely apart and cum again, your legs basically turning into jelly. Just a few thrusts later Harry cums as well, thrusting deep into you a few more times as he moans into your neck.

You lie completely numb on him, his fingers gently stroking your naked back as you try to come back to reality. When you lean back and your eyes meet again you are still speechless.

“I’ve literally wanted it since the day you walked into this place,” he admits with a soft chuckle.

“Really?” you giggle shyly.

“Oh, really. Seeing you around, sometimes without a bra under your shirt completely killed me most of the time.”

Your cheeks are heating up, you didn’t think he noticed when you weren’t wearing a bra.

“Don’t be so shy, you have amazing tits, you are not allowed to wear a bra anymore around here,” he teases you grinning as you laugh and leaning down you kiss him shortly.

“I had quite a few fantasies about you too,” you admit making him raise his eyebrows.

“Really?”

“Mhm, especially after you walked out of the bathroom naked, even though I didn’t even see your dick then.”

Harry chuckles lightly as he pushes his hair back from his forehead, resting his head against the back of the couch.

“So…” you shyly start, ”what now?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that… we live together and we just fucked. What does this mean for the future?”

“Well, I thought that next time we could do it the right way. I could take you out on a proper date, and then fuck you on the kitchen counter.”

You laugh at how blunt he is, but you love the idea he just proposed.

“Okay. Sounds fine by me.”

[youryanderedaddy]

♡100 followers special♡

Guys, I would like to thank all of you for all the support since I started this blog, you are the best <3 Btw this is the fic Elon Musk doesn’t want you to see lol, jk jk 

Title: Humanity

Words: 3.6k 

Summary: When you get sold to an odd looking robot after the last failure of a rebellion, things go better than you had expected. Until they don’t. 

tw: robot/AI apocalypse au, dystopia au, slavery, slight non - sexual public nudity, discrimination, vulgar language, mention of death and child abuse (in the past), obsessive behavior, non - consensual touching, angst 

              AD 3061y., 14 September

 Your hometown was in ruins, shattered by the Forces and left without any source of food, clean water or reliable manpower. The rebellion had failed just like the first ten attempts and as much as you had wanted to believe this time would be different, your dreams stayed nothing more than a way to cope with the harsh reality. Any intelligent individual had either managed to flee before the prosecution or died in agony while trying. You could still hear their pained screams ringing in your ear, the desperate look in their pupils sealed forever in your mind along with the sound of heavy breathing slowly fading into the background like your own hopes for a better future.

 The ones who decided to play meek and close their eyes to the inhuman torture happening in the area were spared, but what awaited them could potentially be worse than death itself. You were part of the flock of pitiful weak humans who had surrendered to the heartless machines wanting nothing more than to see mankind squirm and kneel underneath their mechanic heel like a bug. And now you would face the hour of judgment – tired and exhausted, heavy rusty chains around your bruised ankles making every next step a little harder than the last one. But you were certain that the most painful humiliating event hadn’t taken place yet and the thought made your blood run cold. You could recall the countless stories you used to hear on the streets from your friends about androids stealing kids and selling them like cattle to the most powerful leaders of society. Back then you would laugh at them, finding the ideas ridiculous, better fit for a conspiracy theory or a legend rather than an actual threat. But during that time life was easier – the robots were still your friends, just your average citizens, equal to the humans in every manner. It wasn’t until ten years later that some of them realized just how much better, stronger and smarter than the people they really were. That’s how the apocalypse started and that’s how it was going to end. These days the mortals were becoming extinct with the population cut down to one million. You didn’t have names or rights to any possession. Your mere survival had one purpose only – to entertain the machines so they could feel human again. And right now you were being dragged to Soraq, also known as the biggest slave market in the country.

----

��It was just as terrifying as you had imagined it to be. The Capital was supposed to express wealth, luxury and maybe even happiness but your old human views were easily opposed when faced with the mud  covering what was left of the pavement and the pale exhausted bodies of the mortals wandering the streets searching for a hot meal and a little bit of kindness it was clear no one wanted to provide. You reached out to help a young girl sobbing all by herself on the ground but the Officer roughly yanked your shoulder back and ordered you to keep going – his cold hard touch was enough to bruise your skin.

 After a few long minutes of uncertainty your keeper finally stopped, pulling you up some black stairs leading to a small stage and if you weren’t too busy looking around for the others who were captured, you might have noticed the crowd gathered inches away from you. Soon enough you were forced to redirect your attention as you heard the approving screams and cheering below. There were hundreds of robots staring at you, smirking maliciously, pinning you with their cold calculating gazes. You finally realized that this wasn’t just a bad dream or a nightmare, something unreal you could easily run away from by opening your eyes. You were about to become property and the worst part was the way the cruel machines perfectly resembled people – they looked the same except for the dark red pupils each possessed which glowed when going into a fight mode. But unlike humans the androids had gotten rid of their most intimate emotions and fears, turning themselves into empty shells, shiny and murderous with no way to experience anything properly, be it pleasure or pain.

 “Ladies and gentlemen!” The Officers started off with a low chuckle, his heavy hand wrapped tightly around your arm. His voice should have been programmed to be monotone but now it had a playful edge to it. “Today our dear subjects have decided to be feisty yet again. They still haven’t learned their lesson it seems.” He grinned eerily, quickly followed by the mocking laugher of the crowd. Some even shouted slurs and insults but you tried to focus on controlling your feelings. You needed to stay calm if you wanted to survive. “We really can’t expect more from the mankind. They are primal after all, they just can’t learn from their mistakes.” The male robot paused for a second to fix his microphone. “It’s in their DNA code to be foolish and pathetic. That’s why we need to take better care of them.” He whispered the last line down your neck and despite knowing that the machines didn’t have actual lungs, you could swear you felt his cold breath on your sensitive skin.

 “The woman is in her early twenties. Her background is unknown, but she certainly looks like someone you would want in your collection.” The android continued talking as if you weren’t there, his hands all over your tinier frame. The mass was yelling, but you only made out the words „down”, „strip” and „human”. Your eyes watered involuntarily and you let the tears stream down your cheeks in spite of the weakness they showed. It didn’t matter – it couldn’t get any worse so you could at least let yourself experience such little bits of comfort. In the next moment the Officer ripped your old ragged t-shirt, exposing your breasts to the cold autumn air. The hot red humiliation washed over you as the degrading whistles pierced trough your heart. It was such a cruel unfair punishment and you couldn’t even keep your composure long enough to not break down ugly – crying right there.

 “The bidding starts at one thousand eros!” The robot’s evil voice echoed through the area, reaching the market borders. Suddenly all the attention was on your scared vulnerable half-naked self. More than ten androids raised their hands, making your stomach turn in terror. Most of them had unpleasant appearances, resembling old people, usually men. “Do we have two thousand eros?” The officer added quickly afterwards having seen the shown interest. This time there were only five bots willing to buy you for so much money – but the show was far from over. “Am I seeing three thousand eros?” Your keeper kept going, determined to drain your bidders off their wealth, but to his utmost surprise now there were only two robots with their hands in the air – one seemingly younger and the other looking all wrinkled and bitter at the world. You silently prayed that fate would work in your favor only this time and hand you over to the man who would treat you more like a living being and less like an object.

 “Ten thousand eros.” Suddenly the android with a kinder appearance declared out loud, his cold stern gaze fixed onto you. The other male hesitated for a moment, probably wondering whether or not you were worth so much money, but at the end he cursed under his breath and slowly put his hand down with a sour expression. “Sold to K-010 for ten thousand eros!” The automatic voice of the Officer was ringing in your ear like an alarm while the crowd was shouting and cussing, some going as far as to criticize your new owner for giving up his monthly salary for a “cheap human whore”. Next he was invited on the stage to sign off all the needed documents leading to your freedom being ripped away forever and you were injected with a tiny chip which would make your location visible to your buyer at any given time. The android looked at you soon after and in one swift move he managed to place his leather coat on your shoulders, muttering at you to cover up. You obeyed, embarrassed by the reminder that your upper half was still fully exposed to all the hungry prying immortals. When the chains were finally removed, the robot took you by the hand and led you to a small white flying car with a yellow lily drawn on top – the brand was popular among the most powerful members of the Forces.

 “Don’t even think about running away.” K-010 growled when he noticed the way your attention drifted to the nearby road before finally taking your seat. You knew it was pointless now that the tracking device was deep into your skin but deep down you still couldn’t kill the last bit of hope screaming at you to do something before you were too far away to find home again, wherever it was. “If you so much as look outside while we drive, I will use my lasers to turn you into ash. Okay?” You nodded meekly and sank into the soft comfortable seat, wishing that your body would stop shaking in fear but to no avail.

---

 The journey was long and silent but it made you remember the days when music was still allowed and you used to turn the radio all the way up in your mother’s car. You would sing loudly until your throat hurt and your friends would ask you to just shut up and focus on the road. Everything was so normal and happy back then. The stinging nostalgia threatened to overcome so you tried to focus on something else. You finally faced your owner in an attempt to study his appearance. He was probably in his late twenties, his hair white with some black locks here and there, a fashion trend you usually didn’t care much for. You couldn’t afford to bother with your hairstyle when you were constantly running for your life after all. The robotic male had sun-kissed brown skin, he was taller than most human men and his lips seemed softer than most robots’. But the biggest mystery laid in his deep dark eyes, they looked scarlet at first but the more you stared, the easier it was to realize the color was actually brown.

 “Are you a cyborg, K-010?” You asked in a small voice out of the blue, breaking the peace and quiet in the air. The android didn’t spare you much attention with his gaze fixed onto the open sky serving as a road, still he opened his mouth slightly to respond. “My name is Kyle, the numbers are just a formality.” He inhaled sharply as if he was reminiscing a bad memory. “And yes, I am biologically human – just with a few practical upgrades.” You had heard of such people before, the ones willing to become an experiment so they could join the high society oppressing their own neighbors, friends and relatives, setting the lands on fire and destroying the dying environment but you had never met one until today. Honestly, you felt betrayed. It was one thing to be some unfeeling machine’s plaything and entirely another to be owned by someone with a functioning heart even though they weren’t too keen on using it properly.

 “Why would you do that?” You couldn’t stop the question from leaving your lips in the next moment. “You should know what humans have to go through just to stay alive. Today hundreds of us were crushed and sold like some animals! Yet you changed yourself to appeal to their disgusting standards.” You raised your voice, the hot tears already spilling down your cheeks yet again, your fists clenched in pure anger at the foolish greedy man. He simply shook his head and leaned back. “I had my reasons, sweetheart. You don’t know anything.” With that the conversation had ended, you could try and argue or even blame him for being a selfish bastard but it wouldn’t have done you any good so you decided against it. It didn’t matter much anymore.

----

 A few months went by slowly even though time meant little to someone in your position. Living with Kyle wasn’t as terrible as you thought it would be – his mansion was big and spacious, luxurious even. You had your own room and you were allowed to explore the house in your free time. You didn’t have many duties to attend to, your work mostly revolved around cooking, cleaning and keeping company with your owner when he was too tired to keep the robotic mask on and just wanted something sweet, something weak, something more human around. He didn’t want much out of you so you tried to do your best and stay on his good side – there was always a warm meal waiting at the table at night, every window was carefully wiped from the previous dust and the glass was now shining brightly, and you would listen for hours on end to the cyborg’s ramblings no matter how dreadful it could be sometimes.

 But it couldn’t be denied that the man had some odd habits, even if you were to overlook him buying a living being instead of simply hiring a maid. For example, you knew how thin the walls actually were because you could hear him cry almost every night. The half-robot would hold you close any time the news were too loud or a bottle of beer had fallen and shattered on the ground. Still you weren’t allowed to leave his home so all the doors leading to the outside world were locked while he was away or at work. And there were these weird long cuts on his shoulders you had managed to take notice of the first time your master had asked you to bathe him. You hadn’t meant to prey upon his naked form, but the task had been so awkward you needed something to focus on to drive the unpleasant thoughts away. The injuries looked deep and the man would close his eyes any time the soap made contact with them. Finally one day you gathered the courage to ask him what had caused the raw scratches. You were messaging his scalp gently, applying jasmine in his roots, trying to soothe his nerves and get to the information.

 “ ’S not important. ” K-010 answered lazily while arching his back into your touch. More often than not the male would melt under your care and you couldn’t help but wonder just how lonely it was to be neither a human nor a machine. “She is dead now.” He whispered darkly, secretly hoping it wouldn’t reach your ear, yet it did. “Who is dead?” You questioned him after a while, stroking his wet locks until you heard him moan. You were getting better and better at provoking a reaction from the cyborg and despite knowing it was manipulative and a little devious, he was still the ruthless owner who held your one and only life in his palms. You needed to be sneaky if you wanted a safe, comfortable life.

 “My mother.” Kyle added quickly before looking at the blue ceiling, the glossy material copying both of your reflections. The mention of the woman made the sensitive skin of his nape crawl but he kept talking. “The crazy bitch used to beat me every. She even tried to kill me a couple of times.” A slight smile appeared on his full red lips. “It didn’t work out in the end, unfortunately.” So that’s where the cuts were from – he had been violated in his childhood by no other than the person supposed to look after him. You had always hated abusive parents taking advantage of their authority and even now your own imagination made your heart ache at the picture it painted. A small boy being hit over and over until there his whole body was bruised and bloodied. A child with no one to turn to. It didn’t excuse your master’s evil doing but it certainly explained a lot. “Don’t make such a sad face, darling.” He cooed at you, reaching out to pinch your cheek. “I will always be grateful to the Forces since they gave me the power I needed to finally free myself from her grasp. I even buried her myself after everything was said and done.” Kyle grinned from side to side like a little kid waiting to be praised for the picture they had drawn, except now the man was speaking of the way he had murdered his mother. You were at a total loss of words, suddenly too frightened to respond.

 “What’s so special about being a human anyways?” The cyborg grumbled, sounding almost offended of the words you still haven’t said but were definitely thinking deep down. You were staring forward unable to draw away from that one crack in the wall, his words flying above your head. Your confusion was interrupted by the man quickly raising to his knees and catching both of your hands with his strong robotized ones. The cold touch of the metal combined with the camouflage of a soft skin was enough to mess your mind even further into the maze that was his dark gaze. Next thing you knew the male had you pinned on the hard ground, spotlessly clean and reeking of abstergent. You tried to squirm away but the hold of your wrists was too tight and strong to even make your struggling worth the trouble. “Just look at how weak you humans are.” K-010 taunted you, smirking teasingly, cruelly, yet there was something desperate in his eyes, something hidden. “You are so fragile I could probably break you if I were to press harder on your flesh.” He whispered into your ear, breathing down your neck as he dug his icy fingers into your collarbone and made you whimper pathetically at the dull pain. “People are foolish creatures, illogical by nature. They try to fight authority yet the moment they are left with a free choice, they find a way to run from their responsibilities.” The cyborg chuckled maliciously while digging his nails further into your skin.

 “We might be doomed forever because of our emotions but there is something you fail to consider.” You finally spoke out despite your rapid heartbeat and fear so great it could defeat death herself. The predator already had you in his sharp claws and there was no pointing in playing coy anymore. The worst had come to worst. Your words caught the attention of the half-robot and he licked his lips in anticipation to hear what you had to say. “Unlike the androids we can still experience love. And at the end a life without love is a life wasted in the big picture. We might be mortal but you are the ones waiting to die instead of living.” You spat at the man fiercely, ready to face any punishment he would bestow upon your weak tired body for the sheer honesty. Instead he started laughed maniacally, the sound so loud it hit the ceiling and echoed through the house like a pained scream and so violent his shoulders shook to the sides. For the first time his eyes were glowing in a bright red color so saturated and vivid you couldn’t stand to look at them.

 “This is really funny, my little human.” Kyle pronounced carefully, having calmed down. He lowered his head so that his lips were ghosting over yours, just brushing against them. “I belong with neither humans nor robots so why does my chest ache every time I look at you? Tell me, darling, am I in love?” His voice was harsh, husky – as if he was purposely trying to sound evil but the tears in his eyes pointed at another feeling. A raw painful feeling.

 You couldn’t reply not only because you had no idea what to say after the confession but also because you couldn’t breathe properly with his pretty, wicked face so close to yours. Your silence only managed to stir the cyborg up further into his madness and he kissed you roughly, hungrily lapping and biting at your lips until they were sore and bruised, the robotic man more than happy to lick the small drops of blood off. For a moment you considered kicking or shouting for help but there wasn’t anyone willing to in the radius of kilometers. No one of significance cared much about the few remaining mortals. “I could never love you.” You uttered weakly, half – heartedly pushing the man away. You were all alone in this and there wasn’t really a point in fighting someone so much bigger and stronger, yet a sad little part of you hoped that Kyle would leave you alone if you made it clear enough just how much his actions were hurting you.

  “It’s fine if you don’t love me by choice.” Your master replied calmly in a cold piercing voice. His hands were wandering through your form stopping at your hips to draw them into his. The pretty dress you used to like so much was now crumpled and reeking of him, torn apart from your shivering body and thrown away. You wished you could cry but all the adrenaline had left you too uneasy to process the pain and fear. Kyle whispered in your ear while stroking your hair gently and it made you feel like a trembling sheep before a starved butcher. “I own you, little human.” He placed a small kiss on your hot sensitive neck. “And I have enough love for both of us.”

[thatfanficstuff]

Impossible - 18

Pairing: Eric Northman x reader

Warnings: mentions of unwanted touching and assholes thinking of rape (no sexual assault takes place beyond groping)

A/N: This is longish. I'm lazy and didn't edit. If anything is glaring let me know.

***

It was decided that you and Sookie would present as friends looking for a new church. You intended to play quiet and if necessary you would pretend you were the puppet Stan thought you to be until you escaped from your horrible vampire boyfriend. You thought he loved you. Sob. So on and so forth.

Part of you wanted to go with Stan’s idea. Hell, if there was a way to be rid of the Fellowship without it pointing back to the vampires, you’d jump for it in a heartbeat. They were the epitome of everything wrong with so-called religions. Standing behind their gods to justify their hate and prejudices.

You sighed as you pulled into the parking lot. A perky blonde signaled for you to park and you frowned.

“Why does she look familiar?” Sookie asked.

“That’s Sarah Newlin, the reverend’s wife. I’m not happy that it appears we were expected, Sookie. I doubt she greets everyone that pulls in the parking lot.” You clenched your teeth together. Your gut was telling you to just pull right back out of the parking lot, but this was still your best bet to find Godric. “Just be on guard.”

Sookie nodded her head then slipped out of the car with a grin on her face, ready to greet the Mrs. You followed along behind her playing timid.

“Hi,” Sarah exclaimed. “I’m Sarah Newlin. I saw y’all pulling in and thought I’d come out and greet you myself.”

Sookie walked right up to her and shook her hand. “I can’t believe I’m actually getting to meet you. My name is Heidi Merlotte. This is my friend Sylvia North. We’ve recently moved to the area and are looking for a church.”

Sarah shifted that smile to you and held out her hand. You took it gingerly and kept your other arm wrapped around your waist. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sylvia.”

You just nodded in acknowledgement.

“Well, you’re a quiet thing aren’t you?”

Sookie wrapped her arm around you and leaned forward as if sharing a great secret. “We moved to get Sylvia out of a situation, so to speak. She’s still recovering.”

You could almost believe the look of sympathy Sarah directed your way. She turned and motioned for you to follow her. “Well, follow me and we’ll see if Steve’s available. I’m sure he’d just love to meet you.”

“The reverend himself?” Sookie enthused. “That would be amazing.”

The two of you followed Sarah to an office where Steve Newlin sat behind a large desk. “Honey, we’ve got a couple of friends here looking for a church. Heidi Merlotte and Sylvia North.” You shuffled in and took the offered hand, nodding at his greeting before looking around the office. Sarah bent over to whisper something in her husband’s ear that you weren’t meant to hear. “They insinuated they moved to escape some sort of trauma.”

Steve made a sound of agreement before gracing you with that megawatt smile he was so famous for. You settled into your chair, content to let Sookie do all the talking. She always chattered when she was nervous anyway.

“Sylvia and I met in church actually, but we left when we discovered that the pastor was…well he was…” Sookie trailed off dramatically and you managed to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“Homosexual?” Steve suggested.

Ugh, just when you thought you couldn’t hate this guy more than you already did. What an ass. “A sympathizer. He was a sympathizer,” you said before he could say something else that made you want to punch him in the face.

“Now see, that really makes me mad. How can you claim to love God if you love something God hates?” Too late. You wanted to punch him.

“Well, given Sylvia’s history, we know just how horrible vampires are,” Sookie added after a pause and you wondered what she’d heard in the asshole’s head. “No one will ever convince us that they have any sort of control. They are just evil.”

The Newlins’ attention turned to you with her words. You’d curse her, but this was the plan. You unbuttoned the top button on your shirt and pulled it open to show Eric’s marks. Normally you just wore one, but he’d given you a couple of extra the night before to add to your story. Once they’d seen, you buttoned your shirt back up as if you were ashamed.

You cleared your throat. “He was my boss. He was nice enough at first but then he started catching me in the backroom and feeding. He glamoured me into thinking I enjoyed it. That he loved me. I didn’t know until he came to my house one night and Heidi caught him doing it. She told me everything and helped me escape.” You reached over and grabbed Sookie’s hand. “She saved my life. I truly believe that.”

When you finished with your fantasy, you bent your head forward and wiped away a non-existent tear.

“I am sorry that such a horrible thing happened to you. But that’s what we’re here for is to help people like you. None of this was your fault,” Sarah’s voice comes.

“Thank you. I appreciate that.” You kept your head down so you didn’t have to meet their gazes again. Frankly, you were tired of looking at them.

Steve clapped his hands together. “Well, let’s take a little tour, shall we?”

A tremor of unease crawled down your spine. You were pretty sure the Rev. Newlin’s job description didn’t include giving tours to the peons. You looked up at them, attempting to appear upset instead of untrusting. Sookie and you followed the couple out of the office to what you assumed was the door of the sanctuary.

Steve stopped before opening them and turned to face you. “Now, be careful when I open the doors.”

You arched a brow. “Careful?”

He grinned. “Sometimes when we open these doors, so much love comes flowing out it just knocks you right over.”

You were pretty sure that was the flood of bullshit actually.

“We’ll be sure and brace ourselves,” Sookie responds with a chipper smile.

When they opened the doors, you were actually impressed with the sight that greeted you. The large wall of windows at the back of the church allowed sunlight to flood the sanctuary. It was quite a stunning display. “It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it? I just love this room. It just seems to glow in the afternoon light,” Sarah said, obviously meaning every word.

“It’s just so inspiring,” Steve added.

Sookie fidgeted beside you and you knew whatever the reverend was thinking, it wasn’t pleasant. You reached over and hooked your arm with hers.

He looked between the two of you. “Say have you two ever been to a lock-in?”

“A l-lock-in?” Sookie stuttered out.

You gave your brightest, fakest smile and channeled your inner Sookie. “Not since I was a kid. Gosh, those were good times.”

“Well, we’d love to have you join us,” Steve offered.

Whatever he was up to, Sarah didn’t like it if her body language was anything to go by.

Sookie tugged at your arm. “We should go home and get our stuff so we can do the lock-down.”

You looked down to cover your smirk. They were definitely behind Godric’s disappearance then. You understood Sookie wanting to get out of here, if she’d confirmed that, but in all honesty you were the best option for getting Godric out of here without causing a scene.

“You have plenty of time. The lock-inisn’t until tomorrow. Besides, we haven’t finished the tour yet,” Steve said.

“You wanted to see me?” a voice interrupted and Sarah only looked more concerned. A large bald man came to stand by the Newlins. He was obviously their muscle.

“Oh good. Heidi, Sylvia, I’d like you to meet Gabe, one of my aides,” Steve introduced.

Gabe shook your hands while running his gaze over both of you. He licked his lips and you wanted to kick him in the nuts. Maybe later. It would give you something to look forward to.

“Gabe will be joining us for the rest of the tour,” Steve said, patting the other man on the back.

The tour continued far longer than necessary. “I’m sorry but we need to be going. I don’t like to be out after dark,” you said.

“Oh there’s just one more thing I want to show you. It’s a very special part of the tour. Most people don’t get to see it. My father’s tomb.” He sounded entirely too happy about that.

“Steve, are you sure?” Sarah asked.

“Absolutely.”

“I just don’t see why we need to go down there.”

“Not to be rude but I really don’t want to see someone’s grave,” you said.

Steve looked at you. “You have to see it. You can really feel his spirit down there. It’s the cornerstone our church is built on.” He opened a door that led down a steep set of stairs. Creepy basement. Check. And probably no windows. Perfect place to keep a vampire.

Sookie grasped your arm. “Sylvia?”

“What’s the matter?” Steve asked.

“She’s a little claustrophobic,” you lied.

“Well, at least take a little looksee so you can say you saw everything and you can make an informed decision,” the reverend argued.

“But we’ve already decided to go here so I don’t think it’s necessary,” Sookie said, her voice shaking. “We should go, Sylvia.”

“No,” Steve said. “Gabe!” Steve dived for Sookie and Gabe came after you. He grabbed you from behind, crossing his arms over the front of you, copping a cheap feel as he did so. Fucker. Irritation and Anger flooded through you and you knew Eric would pick up on it. He wouldn’t give you long before he came in after the two of you.

It wouldn’t take much for you to get free and to free Sookie as well, but you wouldn’t get a better opportunity to explore the basement. You feigned fighting and let the asshole carry you down the stairs with a firm grip on your breast.

You heard Sookie fighting behind you. “A little help, Gabe. I think the fucking banger’s on V,” Steve yelled.

“Quit fighting, Heidi. You’ll only get hurt,” you called and heard the commotion die down. At least she trusted you enough to do what you said.

They carried the two of you into a storage cage and locked you in after taking Sookie’s purse and searching both of you. As soon as they were out of sight and you heard the door shut upstairs, Sookie turned to you. “I sure as hell hope you have a plan because that Gabe guy is a total asshole.”

You hummed in agreement and pulled your lockpicking tools from your hair. They looked like barrettes and bobby pins to the untrained eye. “My plan is to find Godric before Eric gets here to rescue us.”

“You seem sure he’ll come,” she said, sounding surprised.

“I am. And if he doesn’t, I’ll get us out. Don’t worry about it.” You moved over to the gate to see the best way to go about getting the two of you out. The chain link configuration complicated things a bit but you’d figure it out.

“You’re always so sure about things. I wish I was like that.”

“A little bit of uncertainty makes life exciting,” you said with a grin before grabbing the gate and shaking it to see how sturdy it was. Keeping your grip you leaned against it. “Little god, little god, it’s time to go home,” you said in a singsong voice. Godric would hear you if he was anywhere in the basement.

“Little god?”

“Long story,” you assured her and shook the gate again. “Good news, the gate is designed to keep people out, not in. Also good news, I’m not completely human.”

“What’s the bad news?” she asked.

“This will be loud.” Unfortunately, the only top to the cage was the ceiling so there was nothing above you to grab onto. Instead, you grabbed onto the chain link beside the gate and used it to swing your body at an angle so your feet hit right where the lock was. You repeated the action two more times before dropping down so you could check the lock.

“Little god, I’m not leaving without you. I know you like me too much to let me die,” you said distracted as your focus was on the gate. You’d definitely done some damage but you decided to keep your feet on the ground and see what kind of damage side kicks could do.

After the second kick, you heard the door upstairs open. “What’s going on down there?” Gabe. Good.

“Nothing,” you called back even as you kicked again and the lock gave way. You grabbed the gate and pulled it shut as his feet thundered down the stairs.

He glared at the two of you before finally settling on you. You had no idea what Sookie looked like behind you but you were giving your best evil grin. “What are you up to, you little bitch?”

“That’s no way to talk to a lady,” you taunted, waiting for him to get closer.

“You’re not a lady,” he said. “You’re just some vampire’s whore.” He licked his lips and looked you over again as he pulled keys from his pocket. When he caught sight of the lock, he frowned and moved forward, “What the hell?”

Once he was within striking distance, you slammed the gate forward so it cracked him in the head and shoved him back. You didn’t give him time to recover before you attacked with punches and kicks. He got a couple of hits in as he tried to take you down. To regain the upper hand. But you weren’t about to let that happen. Finally, you got in position to put your arm around his neck. You kept the hold up until he dropped to his knees. When you would have continued until he quit breathing, a hand dropped on your shoulder.

“Enough.”

You looked to Godric. He wasn’t your sire. You had no loyalty to him, but he was a friend. You released Gabe and took a step back. Your gaze ran over the little god. Other than being paler than usual, he looked good. The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. That was all the invitation you needed to wrap your arms around him.

He returned the hug. He moved his nose near your neck and inhaled. “You smell like my child.”

“Mates.”

He held you at arms length and looked at you in surprise. “He’ll come for you then. Not that he wouldn’t have anyway.”

“Oh, yeah. I figure we’re about out of time.” You gestured to the cage. “Godric, meet Sookie. Sookie, Godric.”

Sookie gave him a smile and a little wave. “Nice to meet you.”

His mouth set in a firm line and his gaze settled on you. “You brought a human with you to rescue me?”

“She’s a little something else, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Not particularly, no. Especially considering what this one would have done had you not been who you are,” he gestured at Gabe.

“Speaking of, you should let me kill him. He groped me.” Reminded of the earlier incident you moved over to the prone form and nudged him so he was laying on his back. Then you kicked him in the balls as hard as you could. “Asshole.”

Godric’s lips twitched. “Feel better?”

“Much.” Sounds of a fight came from upstairs. “Eric.”

“Yes. I am here, my child. Down here.”

In a flash Eric was there. He stopped in front of you first, holding your arms as he looked you over. “I’m fine.”

He nodded once before turning to his maker. “Godric,” he said almost reverently before kneeling in front of him.

The moment was interrupted by Sookie’s laughter. The three of you turned your attention to her. She had a hand over her mouth as she tried to quiet herself. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. It’s just Eric is all respectful and kneeling while you hugged him and called him little god. It’s just funny.”

Eric got to his feet and gave you a look. “Of course, you did.”

“What? Godric likes my hugs.”

[fumingspice]

All The Things She Said

Pairing: Lana Winters x Reader

Request:  student x teacher au fic with lana, billie or cordelia?

Note: Added in a little sparkle with a soulmate AU. Those who are lucky enough to have a soulmate are assigned a necklace with a small pendant. No one knows where they come from or how they’re decided; they just appear and will match your soulmate’s identically. Also, yes the reader is eighteen, and yes there will probably be a part two.

Requests are open!

Your routine was like clock-work; every morning without fail. 5am you would get out of bed and go on a run. There was no reason, really. You weren't someone who was that interested in athletics, it was just a way to clear your mind and wake up your mind and body before going to school and having the energy sucked out of you.

You adored the way the sky looked this early in the morning as you ran through the country park. The heat gave you an extra kick of gratification as you watched the sky dance in colours of orange and pink, painting everything in shades of gold. The sun crept through the mountain like liquid glory and you couldn't get enough of it.

Realising the time, you made your way back to your neighbourhood, waving at neighbours you often saw at this time of morning.

You saw many of the same people on morning runs that you eventually learned by name while running past them, shouting a greeting and waving as you sped past them. This morning, you noticed that the home a few lots down from your own had been purchased; the new inhabitents were outside, speaking with a contractor.

As you ran, you noticed the woman watching you. Breaking your glance, you made a mental note to introduce yourself later.

The shower couldn't come soon enough as you lathered the cool water on your body. Cold showers after a run provided that little extra adrenaline rush that you needed to get you through the day, and boy would you need it today.

After months of persuasion, you had finally given in to skipping the end of school and heading to a gay bar with your friends Emmett and Heather. Being the model student you were, you had declined the offer time and time again; but after catching your boyfriend with another girl and the subsequent break up of one of the most liked couples in school, you decided that now would be the best time for it.

The school day rushed in and at 12pm on the dot, you and Emmett made your way to Heather's car, where she sat impatiently tapping her foot.

"You two took your sweet time," the blonde muttered, pulling on a pair of sunglasses and revving up the engine.

The plan was simple; Heather's parents were out of town for the week so the three of you planned to stay over. Today would be spent getting ready and having a few drinks before hitting the bar in order for you to have a "drink in celebration" for breaking up with your ex-boyfriend.

The bar was lively, and you could smell the mixture of cheap cigarettes, alcohol and weed and hear the music from the street behind. Emmett compared the similarity of the three of you strutting to the bar to the Sanderson sisters from Hocus Pocus.

Heather nudged you yet again, her elbow hitting a nerve in your ribs and making you bounce.

"Will you quit that?" you snapped, realising your fourth cocktail was making you slightly irritable.

Heather glared at you and pulled you over to whisper in your ear. "The brunette at seven o'clock has looked from her phone to you at least four times," she hissed, releasing you and nodding her head in the direction.

You nodded in understanding and gestured for her to tell you what to do. Picking chicks up at a bar wasn't exactly something you were accustomed to, after all.

"Go up to the bar and order something-" she looked at your outift, "-I don't know. Some business casual-sounding drink. Like an Old Fashioned or something. Make a joke about how much you've drank and if she's warm then ask if she's here with someone. Then go in for the kill and Emmett and I will be your wing-people when you break your seal."

"Break my what?"

Heather practically shoved you off your chair.

You shrugged and walked towards the bar, standing close to the brunette, but not close enough so that she knew what you were up to. The bartender approached and you smiled at her.

"Hey, could I get an Old Fashioned pl-"

"And get me another piña colada while you're making your move!" Heather called, acting more drunk than she was in an effort to hint off to the lady. You glared at her, and in return, for some added effect she lent into full view of the lady, shot her a cheesy grin and gave her a thumbs up.

You spun on your heel to see if the lady had noticed, and to your dismay she had. She looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

At least she didn't look disappointed.

"Was that for me?" She chuckled, taking a tip from her class. You grinned as casually as possible, looking down at your hands. You finished off your order and paid, waiting for Heather to get her drink to no avail.

"You know what, yeah I think it was for you actually," you replied. Keeping it cool was the buzz phrase Heather had been using all day. "I'm sorry but my friend claimed that she had seen you checking me out a few times and was pretty insistant that I come over and talk to you."

You sat in the stool, leaving one between you.

The lady chuckled. "It's fine," she said, taking another sip. "I'd be grateful for the company."

"You're alone? You're more than welcome to sit with my friends and I," you offered.

You cut off immediately by Heather collecting her drink, standing between you and muttering, "don't you fucking dare," into your ear before walking over to the woman and leaning over her shoulder.

"Now, you see, Ms- I'm sorry what's your name? Jesus, Y/N! When you flirt it's basic manners to ask for a name," Heather muttered.

"It's Lana," she replied, smiling at you.

Lana. A pretty name.

"Awh, that's a lovely name actually, I wish my parents liked me enough to call me something like that. Anyways, enough about me. So, anyways, my good friend Y/N here just got two-timed by a piece of human trash that she's way hotter than and everyone warned her against dating but hey- you know our Y/N, she's balls-ier than a dodgey testical. So, all I'm really gonna say is we came here because we really want to get her laid so she doesn't need to feel like she got the short end of the bargain so, you know-"

At this stage Heather was trying to communicate through a series of dramatic gestures. Emmett strod over, took Heather by the shoulders and apologised to Lana before walking your drunk friend back to your table.

You were both a little shell-shocked and you feared that Heather's drunken rant had ruined any sembelance of a chance that you had with getting anywhere with this.

"I- I'm so sorry. She doesn't get out much," you said. Lana's smile returned as she waved it off.

"Has anyone ever told you that you look a lot younger than twenty-one?" she asked. You couldn't tell if she was being genuine or if she was trying to hint that she thought you were younger than your ID said.

You nodded. "All the time," you say, it's not like that's a lie. "How old are you? If you're not offended by my asking."

"I'm twenty-nine. I hit the big three-oh in November," she replied. Lana reached into her bag and pulled out a box of Newport cigarettes. "I'm sorry, I've had a long day and I'm dying for a smoke. Care to join me?"

You sat still for a moment before excepting the offer. The club was absolutely packed and you could barely follow Lana through to the balcony without getting separated from her. She noticed and turned around, taking your hand and keeping you close so that you didn't get lost in the crowd.

Lana lent over the metal fence, cupping her hand over her lighter. You watched how her cheeks sucked in, defining her cheekbones and her jawline. You mirrored her position against the fence.

"Hard day at the office?" You asked, declining the cigarette she offered you. "Thanks but I don't smoke."

Lana smiled down at her cigarette. "I like a smart girl. Stay away from these for as long as possible," she took a long draw. "And to answer your question; I moved into a new house today only to find out that none of the plumbing was actually installed and contractor has no idea why."

"My house was like that too; turns out the pipes are just in really weird places," you replied. You turned to face in the opposite direction, laying your elbows onto the bar and watching the crowd. "What do you do? Career wise?"

Lana blew out a puff. "I'm a teacher. French and English Literature."

Ah great; a French student trying to hit on a French teacher. This was gonna be a fun story to tell the group.

"You're kidding? I'm studying French," you replied. 

Lana laughed. "Damn, Y/N. This just has to be written in the stars," she replied, you could sent the well-meant underlying sarcasm in her voice. "You think I have that chance?" You ask, your eyes dart down to her hand. Her ring finger, although bare had an imprint on it as if she had only recently removed a ring. She noticed you looking and brought her hand into a fist.

"Don't look at me like that, Y/N. We're getting divorced," she said. She bit her lip and looked down into the woods beneath. 

You felt slightly guilty. "Oh, I'm sorry." Lana shook her head in response.

"I'm in a gay bar for Christ's sake. We definetly weren't compatiable," she chuckled, reaching for another draw of her cigarette. She turned around, some noise in the background catching her attention. Her sleeve dropped a little bit, revealing two bruises at the side of her wrist that she had clearly tried to cover with foundation. Lana turned back around and you dropped your eyes before you noticed, unaware if it was your place to ask.

"If I'm honest, I don't really like bars. I know this really nice café a few places down. Do you wanna come with me?" You asked. Lana's head cocked slightly, her eyes scanned you as if they were looking for some alterier motive. "I'm not trying to get laid, Lana. I just don't like clubs and I don't think you do either."

Lana's shoulders relaxed, as if trying to decide. "Sure," she nodded. "I'd love to."

You walked back in through the bar, telling Emmett what you were doing. He made you promise to turn on your location and to call him to pick you up when you were ready to leave.

"It's nice that you have friends to watch your back," Lana said as you walked down the street. The air was now cold, nipping at your cheeks and nose. Lana slid her arm through yours after asking if it was okay to do so.

The café in question was small; dimly lit, decorated with plants. It was warm inside and the candles lit everything in orange. It was peaceful. You heard Lana sigh with relaxation as you asked her what she'd like to drink.

Two lattes later, you and Lana lay on the same old, green, springless couch. You giggled and talked for what could have been hours.

Lana noticed your Soul Necklace. “I have one too,” she said, touching the stone delicately. “I’ve never worn it though.”

She told you stories from high school and college while you sat and listened to her in some new form of fascination. You could listen to her talk forever. Your head rested on her shoulder, and hers rested on your head. There was an echo of peace which bounced around the both of you.

Eventually there came a moment when you had finally plucked up enough courage in a moment of silence between you to lift her chin with your finger and close in for a kiss. It was short and sweet, but you could still rellish the feeling of her lips kissing back against yours in a gentle passion.

She waited on you while Emmett drove back to get you, with an extremely drunk Heather in the backseat. 

"Are you free tomorrow night?" Lana asked before she walked away. You nodded. "Would you like to maybe go out? On a date?"

Her final question was asked with a shyness that you found adorable, and giving her a kiss on the cheek as

The next day you went to school in a good mood. Your run was better than ever. Your breakfast was tastier. The sky was more beautiful. You couldn't contain your giggles as Heather drove you and Emmett to school.

"I cannot believe you've landed yourself a date with a teacher," Emmett said as the three with you walked to your French class. You practically danced down the corridor with happiness. The three of you were slightly late to class.

You pushed the door open harder than you intended, making it crash against the wall with a loud bang. You muttered an apology while your friends laughed at you and the teacher settled them down, chuckling under her breath.

That it until she looked up at you.

And you looked up at her.

Lana muttered a profanity under her breath as she realised that she had asked one of her students on a date.

taglist: @its-soph-xx​

[emiwasabi]

Found: Part 1

**I feel like there isn’t enough love for Gilly so I wanted to write something specifically with him. I’m posting what is hopefully going to be a story with a good amount of parts!**

“A scrap yard?” Lucia said skeptically while reading the local paper ad over my shoulder. I didn’t respond, just sipped my lukewarm coffee and continued reading through the sparse job description. It wasn’t like there were a whole lot of options in the ‘employment’ section of the Santo Padre Gazette. “Don’t you think that’s a little…” My little sisters’ face was screwed up in mock disgust when I turned around. 

“It’s a job” was my only reply. Reading the underlying aggravation in my tone, Lucia backed off with an exaggerated eye roll. “I need a job, babe. At this point I can’t afford to be picky.” She turned her back and rifled through the box labeled kitchen, stacking dishes in one of the rickety cabinets, mumbling under her breath. “The $300 in my bank account isn’t even gonna last us the next two weeks!” That was if we were really stingy. 

Lucia kept her back to me but the confusion was evident in her tone. “I don’t understand why we couldn’t stay in San Diego. Lucas is gonna be released soon and I’m almost positive he wouldn’t want to move here. And now I have to start school three weeks into the year. My senior year!” The cabinet closed with a bang and Lucia angrily moved onto another box. “Do you know how hard that’s gonna be?” The casserole dish banged harshly against the counter, emphasizing her point.

It would be so easy to tell her everything about Lucas and his activities, and explain to her how it was that bastard's fault for getting us into this mess. Except I couldn’t. Or Wouldn’t. I wouldn’t tarnish the reputation of a man that she’s looked up to her whole life. Or maybe I just didn’t want to think about my part in this whole thing. I didn’t do any of that, though. 

I walked into the little kitchen and pulled her in for a hug. She was tense at first but a couple seconds later her muscles seemed to relax. “Look, I know this is sudden and shitty. And If I could have avoided moving towns, I would have.” The apartment was a significant step down from the condo in San Diego. The ancient appliances, chipped formica counter, and cheap cabinets spoke to that. “I didn’t really plan for this. But we need a place to lay low and settle down.” The only response I got was a grunt. “And surprisingly, Santo Padre has a really great school ranking.”

My sister pushed back and swiped her sleeve across her face. “I could always drop out and start working.” It was a lost cause but Lucia was nothing short of persistent. “Before you say anything,” she warned, “we clearly need the money. And I can always get a GED online once we’re back in San Diego.” It killed me how hopeful she was.   

This day has been exhausting enough and I wasn’t gonna spend more energy hashing out the same argument. ”No. You’re going to school and I’m not having this argument again.” I snatched the paper and my purse. “Now I’m gonna go to the yard and put an application in. Let me know if you want me to pick up anything from the store.”     

“Whatever,” she responded begrudgingly. After grabbing a box from the stack in the living room, she made her way towards the bedroom. 

“Might wanna take a knife or something. For protection.” She added before closing the only bedroom door with a solid slam.  

I didn’t think too much of my sister's warning, which in hindsight probably would have been a good idea. Because If I had known that the scrap yard was owned by a biker club I would have reconsidered the whole thing. Would have just skipped right over the ad even if it did seem like the only available job in this tiny bordertown. But it seemed to be too late. A couple of bikers stared at my small Chevy Avalon in curiosity as I pulled into the gravel parking lot. Curiosity and maybe slight apprehension. Even from the safety of my car they looked intimidating, with their leather kuttes, heavy chains hanging from their jeans, and sculpted muscles.    

Picking at my already ragged cuticles helped pass the time as I sat in the car waiting not that patiently for the short bald man to introduce me to the yard owner. Seven minutes passed before light patterned knocks echoed from the window. I stepped out with as much confidence as I could muster and plastered on my warmest ‘waitress’ smile. I thought about dressing up before I left but looking at the guys in front of me confirmed that my dark blue cuffed jeans and Henley t-shirt were the perfect attire. 

The bald man, Chucky, introduced me to Bishop, Tranq, and Taza. All three would be pretty intimidating on their own. Tranq was 6 feet tall and brawny, with a classic military style, buzzed head included. He gave me a polite but reserved smile. Taza looked like one of those cool hippie uncles that let you take a couple hints of their joint at the holiday party. Long grayish hair and a wrinkled face gave the impression that he was wise beyond his years and deceivingly friendly. Bishop was a couple inches shorter than my 5’8” self and was exuding some serious swagger. There was something about his chiseled forearms and thick mustache that had me thinking not so proper thoughts. Like how the man was giving off major daddy vibes with just a nod and a slight smile. 

Pushing those thoughts away and trying to keep the blush from reaching my cheeks, I went into a quick introduction and handed over the completed application. After basic introductions were done, Bishop and the others motioned for me to follow them into the scrap yard office, giving me time to study the Mayans insignia on the back of their kuttes. It was interesting. Tribal like and entwined with green and khaki colors.  

The office was exactly what I pictured, disheveled and small with what might be a permanent cigarette smell. The ‘Presidente’ title was stitched onto the left side of Bishop’s kutte so it made sense that he asked all the questions. Taza and Tranq sat back as silent observers. The question about siblings came up, as it always seemed to sprout up as some sort of icebreaker. “Yeah, I have a younger sister. Just turned 18 last month.” Didn’t feel the need to include anything about my parents and they didn’t actually seem that interested. 

“And you’ve had experience in an office setting?” He inquired. 

“Yeah. I worked in a mechanics shop for three years, working with customers, invoices, buying parts, and stuff like that.” Bishop gave an encouraging nod so I then detailed the couple of years I did waitressing and highlighted some other odd jobs.  

At the end Bishop glanced back at his friends for confirmation. Tranq provided a slight nod and Taza shot me a wink. “Well, it seems like you got the job. Congratulations.” Bishop didn’t sound super enthused but I’m thinking that’s just his general nature. “If you accept it’ll be minimum wage, 8 am to 5 pm during the week. You’ll be working with Chucky Monday through Friday, helping out with the paperwork, tracking hours worked, scheduling, stuff like that. He’ll show you the ropes.”  

“Maybe try to keep the office straightened up cause clearly nobody else can do it.” Taza joked, motioning to the seemingly random piles of paperwork scattered on the desk and in boxes on the floor. His casual nature was welcoming and helped to slightly lessen the bundle of nerves that was sitting low in my stomach.

“Yeah, that I can do.” I breathed a sigh of relief. 

That smirk appeared on Bishop’s face and Tranq gave me a somewhat encouraging smile. He nodded and pointed back to my car, guiding me to the parking lot. “Alright then. We’ll see you on Monday at 8am. Have you fill out the paperwork and Chucky will give you a tour. Introduce you to all the guys.”

“Thank you so much,” I smiled and clutched my hands in front of myself, resisting the urge to hug the man. Excitement coursed through me and for the first time in a month and that tight ball of nerves loosened even more. The pay wasn’t that much but at least I could keep the shitty apartment above Lucia and I’s head for a while. Maybe even save up to rent a house. 

A couple bikers were standing by what looked like an extended carport, smoking around clearly well maintained motorcycles. I glanced at them briefly before hurrying back to my car, almost thankful that I wouldn’t have to deal with those promised introductions today. I don’t think my frayed nerves could handle any more confrontation. 

[digital-corruption]

Haunted by the Past Part 71

Hearing Jake was like a million pounds off my shoulders. The hardest part was still to come, but I wasn't alone. Now to get away from Mark, who looked incredibly intimidating when I turned around to look behind me.

“Um, this is rather awkward, but can I use the bathroom?” I fake winced.

“Are you serious? You just got here,” Mark frowned.

“Um, well, girl stuff?” I said nervously.

Mark closed his eyes and shook his head, “Use the private toilet through that door on the left. I can't be wasting time being your personal escort. Keep it clean, will you?”

“Thank you,” I smiled.

I quickly walked off with my bag while holding my stomach. As soon as I closed the door behind me, closed my eyes and waited for the signal.

I heard the phone ring. Mark picked up, “Yes sir? Yes, she’s got the program running. It's very slow. Oh, ok. No, it’s ok. I'll take her.”

There was my cue. I flushed the toilet and washed my hands. I walked out of the bathroom gingerly.

“There’s been a change of plans,” Mark sighed. “Since that terminal seems to be struggling.”

“It is taking a while,” I admitted.

“Another terminal has been made available in case this one fails. You have a second copy?” He questioned.

“I do have a backup, yes,” I nodded.

“Ok, leave that one running we'll go try the other terminal. Follow me,” Mark stood up and walked to the door.

He led the way back through the corridor to the administration section. A few for the employees greeted Mark, but most paid no attention as he led me to a terminal near the end.

“This one,” he gestured.

I entered the cubicle cautiously, “It’s locked.”

He rubbed his head, “All right, use my login. It’s all connected so it should be fine.”

Mark stepped in front of me and quickly used his login to unlock the terminal. Then he stepped back to the threshold, looking around.

“Thank you,” I nodded and sat down.

I pulled out the blue USB and inserted it into the side of the monitor. The icon popped up and I went to the folder and ran “Run Me MC.exe" again.

“Oh, this one is running a lot faster,” I smiled.

“Good,” Mark commented. “Hmm...”

“What’s wrong?” I questioned.

“One of Hathaway’s assistants is in the area. I'll have to take you back the long way,” he sighed.

I glanced back at the screen. The progress bar was nearly complete.

“Red is online,” Jake commented. “Don’t go back.”

“You could take me outside if that’s easier. This one is almost done,” I pointed out.

“What about the other one? You don’t want your USB stick back?” he raised an eyebrow.

“It’s just an old USB stick. They’re so cheap nowadays. Avoiding Hathaway is more to everyone’s interests,” I explained.

“Blue is online,” Jake added. “Get out of there.”

“You’re right. Ok, if you’re done, can you log me off?” Mark tilted his head.

I turned back and closed the screens, logged off and pulled out the USB stick, “All good to go!”

Mark led the way more carefully than earlier out through the back, down different corridors. He was less friendly, more focused on who was seeing us. He stopped at the entrance to the lobby.

“Off you go then,” he gestured.

“I wish I could say it was swell,” I laughed and walked off.

Eisenberg was chilling off to the side talking with some of the security personnel when he saw me walk out. I continued out the front doors and he followed me down the stairs to the road level where the black luxury car was waiting. I climbed in, Eisenberg after.

“It’s done,” I declared. “I’d like my SIM card back.”

--

- Jake’s POV –

“Deepfakes are awesome, aren’t they?” Jerkface grins.

“They are terrifying,” I sigh and push back to the first computer.

“It’s amazing how easily people will give up secure information to the right voice,” he boasts while spinning around the chair idly.

“Still working,” I roll my eyes and put the earphone back in.

I watch MC and her escort leave Conway’s office. Meanwhile there is commotion in Hathaway’s. I watch as couple of the assistants leave. They start heading in the direction of Conway’s office. Thankfully, MC and her escort detour to administration before they cross paths with Hathaway’s assistants. The dummy terminal is already connected so I force it to finish prematurely before Hathaway’s people show up. Now with control of the computer I close the windows and leave it on the desktop. Hathaway’s people peek in, then spread out away from the office in search of MC and her escort. They’re starting to ask people questions, I can only assume they’re asking if they’ve seen Conway’s assistant. Not good. I glance back at MC and her escort. The escort has noticed as well. Good. He’s suggested going back to the office the long way? No it’s time to finish and get out.

“Red is online,” I speak into the microphone. “Don’t go back.”

MC gets it. Her terminal is still not connected though. I need a distraction.

“Load Hathaway’s file,” I tell Jerkface.

“Aye, aye, captain!” he mocks. “Are you sure he’s not in? Cause that’d be awkward~!”

“I just need a distraction,” I sigh.

I look back, the connection to the terminal MC is on has been established. Time to get her out of there.

I speak into the microphone, “Blue is online. Get out of there.”

“Ok, it’s ready,” he pushes away to give me space to move over.

I enter in the phone number for Hathaway’s office. It rings and rings until someone finally answers.

“Yes?” the voice on the line says.

I take a deep breath, “Call them back.” The computer alters my voice into Hathaway’s as we speak. “It’s inconsequential.”

“But sir!” the voice on the other side interjects.

“Did you not hear me?” I ask. “I said call them back! We have more pressing matters!”

“Right away sir!” the voice hangs up.

I roll back over and watch as MC reaches the lobby. Hathaway’s people are not far behind now. As MC passes security, they’re called back – before they can observe who she is with and what car she enters.

Jerkface swings back and forth on his chair, “You two are regular spies! Imagine the things we could get into if we worked together again!”

I glare at him, “When I said I’m out, I meant it. This changes nothing.”

I initiate my program to start corrupting the CCTV footage for that time period. It's time for me to pick up MC, but I have to give her one last instruction.

“Don't put that SIM card back in your phone!”

[spookyspaghettisundae]

That Was Our Superpower

Every time the plastic cup slipped, the edge of its rim frayed more. I was running out of space around the rim of the cheap water container, running out of spots I could use as a makeshift screwdriver. Running out of time.

A hurried glance at the clock told me that it would not be long till Detective Brubaker returned. A demon wearing a human skinsuit, as far as I was concerned. The thoughts of what he might do to me to “elevate” me—or simply kill me—made my already trembling fingers quake even more while I tried to loosen these screws.

All the odds were stacked against me.

The pain in my belly region from where I had been shot eclipsed all other pain I was in—the aftermath of two separate car crashes, and pain meds clouding my senses. I was chained to the metal bar at the side of my bed with a set of handcuffs, leaving me to rely on my clumsy left hand to survive. And the only tool at my disposal to work the screws that fastened the metal bar to the bed? A lousy plastic cup of water which the nurse had left with me.

Because I’m a dumb-dumb, I had wasted the first half hour. I had tried bending the bars—but my baby arms would have probably been too weak for that even if I hadn’t been shot. I had also tried unplugging one of the devices I was hooked up to, which monitored my vitals—but that only brought the nurse in to check on me and hook me back up, and I lost more time trying to talk to her. Oh, and speaking of which, I tried to sweet-talk the nurse, but it turns out she is not gay, and she was also not going to help a potential criminal run from the police.

The only smart thing I had come up with was turning on the TV to mask any noise I made during my sorry escape attempt. The only thing in my favor was that I had been left completely alone in the room, and I don’t think anybody stood guard outside.

So that left me with this stupid plastic cup. I had popped the cap and dumped the rest of the water on the floor. The cup’s rim barely fit into the grooves of the screws, but I made it work. And I could have sworn I was making progress. Or I was just trying to convince myself that I had a chance.

And the cup slipped again. The plastic tore, further shrinking the available space of that rim that had not yet been frayed.

The clock ticked down another minute. I only had twelve left.

I cursed like a drunken pirate captain who had been mutinied against while the little metal screws continued to defy me. I shuddered with joy when I felt the screw finally loosen somewhat. Trembled even more thanks to that.

No, really—thanks, body. Betray me more while I’m winning, why won’t you?

My quivering fingers finally found purchase on the screw; I had exposed it just enough to twist it out completely with my fingertips. Frantic spins increased the space I was afforded to unscrew it, and the tiny chime of the little metal peg hitting the hospital floor was music to my ears.

My stomach knotted into a pit when I yanked at the metal bar, only to find it wouldn’t budge. I had hoped that one screw loose would have been enough to lift it and slip the cuffs out. Peering over the edge and seeing I had to unscrew one more to accomplish that feat was all it took to feed my despair.

Ten minutes left.

I was sweating bullets.

The ads on television had been going on for minutes, and a choir of kids was singing in the most annoying way I could possibly imagine. I mean, it might not have been annoying at all, but given that I was struggling to survive here, and it did the equivalent of pouring gasoline into the fire of my despair and frustration, it might as well have been nails on chalkboard.

When the cup slipped again and frayed yet more, I swore out loud and wished all sorts of awful deaths on the people who had made all these lousy low-budget ads.

Shuffling of someone’s feet outside the door to my room made me freeze like a deer in headlights. Had Brubaker returned early? Was someone going to catch me and stop me?

Nope. Just someone shuffling through the hospital at night for whatever damned reason. And now I had lost another two minutes.

Down to eight.

The cup slipped again. Frayed more. It would only survive two or three more of these slips, then I would be shit out of luck. I had to force myself to steady my hand because it was just constantly shaking now, and I could not afford to shake any more, or I would slip again.

While some annoyingly cheap ad with the most annoying voices for some lawyers named Hanson and Hanson repeated on the television set yet again on this third ad break in the same damned hour, I slipped. I snarled and hurled the remote control at the TV set and was back to desperately fumbling with the cup and the screw before the remote had even clattered to the floor.

Last two tries. Also, only five minutes left.

“Ohmygod-ohmygod-ohmygod-ohmygod,” I started muttering in a panic when the cup slipped again. Frayed again.

Not even an inch of unfrayed rim. Last try.

The screw popped.

I almost screamed with joy, though it probably came out more like relieved wheezing. I dropped the cup, and my trembling fingers went to start unscrewing. My blood ran cold when I fumbled, and it felt like the screw went back in tighter for a second. Then I found purchase and by the time I had gotten halfway through to spinning out and removing the screw, a rushing sense of relief filled me with liquid fire.

The screw chimed as it hit the floor and bounced. The handcuffs clicked against the metal bar as I started wrenching it around. Finally, I could move it. Finally, I could loop the end of the cuffs down the length of the loose metal and free it.

Free.

My mind blanked as I had not thought this far. What the hell was I even going to do?

Two minutes left. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—

The monitor was beeping like crazy. Made sense—my heartrate was through the roof.

I yanked away all the cables and ripped out the needles that were still in my body. The short stings were nothing compared to the rest of my pain. The monitor flatlined as it had no more pulse to read from me.

She’s dead, Jim!

Swung my legs over the side of the bed and found that the floor was icy cold against my bare soles. No time to care.

Where were my clothes? No time for that either.

Someone shuffling through the hallway again. Damn it. Brubaker was early.

In a haze of panic, I hustled to grab something—anything—that I could misappropriate as a weapon for self-defense. All I came up with was the flower vase on the table by the window. It would have to do.

The pitter-patter of my bare feet may have given away that I scuttled over to hide behind the door, but I had no time to care.

The door opened—

SMASH.

The bright white creamware exploded into countless shards over a human head, water and flowers flying all over the place, and I realized only with growing horror that I had just brained the very friendly nurse with the southern drawl who had been so nice to me.

After she crumpled to the floor, she groaned in pain, sprawled out in the mess of flowers and water. I only machine-gunned out a pathetic and frantic “OhmygodI'msosorry—” before fleeing the room like the chickenshit I was.

A man in a white coat standing at a desk with a phone down the hall peeled his eyes off the glow of a tablet in his hands to shoot a glance at me, only to do a doubletake and arch a brow as he saw me standing there. I had no idea what I looked like, but I’m sure he was concerned, or something.

My racing heartbeat and the rushing of blood in my ears blotted everything out and I ignored the doctor’s shout, indecipherable as far as my panic-addled brain was concerned.

I ran down the hall in the opposite direction. Everything began to hurt again. I clutched my belly where they had stitched up and bandaged the bullet entry wound and dreaded what might happen if it broke open again, with my mind circling back and forth between that fear and the dread over believing that it had in fact broken open again and that I’d bleed out before anybody caught me.

Deep breaths. Breathe, Kelly.

I pushed through the door of an emergency exit and gasped at how cold the floors of the stairwell back here were and descended them in headless hurry. I had gotten down several flights before I heard someone bang open the door I had used and shout after me.

“Hey! Wait!”

I would not wait, fuck you very much!

I peeked out of every tiny round window on every door on the way down, only ever casting a quick glance to assure me that I had not reached ground floor yet.

Again, the doctor shouted, “Hey!” The hurried footfall of his crocs echoed down the stairwell from above.

When I finally found an exit from the hospital, four stories down, I ripped it open and kept running. I ran right past a reception desk where a tired-looking staff member looked up from a book, likely due to the attention I was generating with my frantically flailing arm, the slapping of bare feet against the floor, and running around in a hospital gown—was my ass bare? Ohmygodmyasswasbare—and she did the same kind of doubletake as the doctor before.

She stammered after me, “Woah, hey, uh—”

I thumped right into the sliding doors, which only opened with delay, and then I ran outside. The concrete and asphalt outside were less cold to run on barefoot, retaining some of the day’s sunny heat.

I did not know where to go from here. I was not even sure what hospital I was at. A quick glance behind me at a huge glowing sign said it was Gramercy Medical. Never heard of it. I dithered, spinning around until I got even dizzier than I probably should have been from the bad condition I was in, and ran in a random direction.

A parked car honked its horn and flashed its headlights. I scrambled to stop and turn and run the opposite direction until I saw the window roll down on the driver’s side, and a hand reach out, and wave at me, and poke their head out, and it was—

I had to squint.

“D?” I called out, so high-pitched that I felt embarrassed almost immediately.

“Kelly! Get over here!”

The car sprung to life and the vehicle lurched forward once I had already run halfway across the street towards it, patting a hood of a car of which the tires screeched because I had run right into traffic like a dumbass. The driver of that car honked their horn and shouted a string of profanities at me. I did not particularly care and fled to the car D was driving. A shadow leaned over to open a door to the backseat, and I hopped in.

A sharp pain in my belly region was a harsh reminder of my sorry state and I whimpered, eliciting a concerned look from the person I was sharing the backseat with: Boombox.

“Damn, woman! You okay?”

I snapped at him, “Do I look okay?”

D did not even look back. He just revved the engine and made the car’s tires screech as he cut across the street outside the hospital in a sharp U-turn, provoking more people to honk their horns in response to the countless near collisions.

Boombox’s eyes went wide with shock over my reaction and I’m sure my face fell as quickly as my heart dropped into my pants.

I blurted out, “Fuck—I’m sorry, that didn’t come out right. I’m not okay but thank you for asking.”

I hugged myself and sunk into the seat and winced over the pain above my belly as I twisted in my seat to look back at who was following us.

A doctor and a nurse had exited the hospital’s front entrance, standing in the bright glow of the reception area on the sidewalks and traffic circle in front of Gramercy. We were already too far for me to really make out any specific features aside from pink crocs, but the doctor flung up his hands in frustration.

I was not really concerned about them, though. I looked around for any sign of Detective Brubaker or police.

And when it dawned on me that he may have been late, anger started welling up in me. How dare that son of a bitch—or was it… son of a succubus? Never mind. How dare he be late? After all I had been through to escape from him? One of the dumbest parts of me had wanted to see him frustrated, showing up at the last minute and seeing me get away. I would have liked to flip him off, too.

Then again, he was some sort of hell spawn who could manipulate light and darkness and may or may not have been a living pile of insects.

Yeah, so, on second thought: probably better off this way.

Boombox was staring at me in disbelief as I turned around and shot him a feeble smile, then I looked for eye contact with D in the rearview mirror. His face was plastered with three Band-Aids, one prominently across the bridge of his nose.

“Thanks guys,” I groaned. Relieved, finally. “Thanks for comin’ to get me.”

D furrowed his brow, cleared his throat, and broke off eye contact.

“Uh, we were actually here to bust out Rocco. Didn’t even know you were here, Kell’,” D admitted, mostly muttering. It took me a moment to register the reigning emotion behind it: shame.

“Gee, thanks,” I said, letting the words stretch out enough that they could drip sufficiently with sarcasm.

Boombox avoided eye contact as well.

I did not want to be hung upon it, but it did sting. The thought that nobody would have come for me.

“Did you see the boss in there?” D asked.

“Nah, I just had to free myself from my bed that I was chained to before a demon-man wearing a human-skinsuit returned to fucking murder me.”

I myself was surprised over how angry I was, and how I was airing it. The boys of the South Side Kings gang probably did not deserve my attitude, but can you blame me? For one moment, I had felt like someone had come to save my ass, and it turns out I just happened to be at the right place at the wrong time.

Yet again.

The questions Brubaker had asked while grilling me in the hospital echoed in my mind.

“Julio ‘Loco Rocco’ Rodriguez is the alleged mastermind behind the South Side Kings. Have you been a member for long?”

Yeah. No. I was not a member of the Kings. I was just Kelly Romero, useless loser who had been sucked into this vortex of insanity, this maelstrom of gangs and mob syndicates and vampires and now motherfucking demons, too.

“Demons now, too, huh?” Boombox asked. “So we got vampires, and slime monsters, and demons, and, uh, what’s next?”

“No-no-no-no,” I corrected him, working myself up into a new fit. Not a cold sweat kind of panic, but one where I suddenly feared for someone else. The words cascaded out of me like waterfall. “I think the slime monsters are the demons. Or the demons made the slime monsters—or something. Fuck it. This police suspective—uh, detective—h-he said he was an angel or demon or both and he said that he’d ‘elevate’ me, and I think he meant exactly what had been done to those cops who turned into spiny-ass blobs from the waist up.”

Both guys went silent. D glared at Boombox through the rearview mirror, then stared back down the road.

“Fuck,” D muttered. He was taking sharp turns, playing along in traffic, but gaining some distance.

“Shit,” I hissed, growing more frantic again. “We need to go back. If Rocco is in the same hospital, then the detective is gonna go for him too! He might have gone for him first! Go! Go-go-go! Turn around!”

I started slapping the driver’s seat and shaking it impatiently until D shushed me with a series of increasingly growled Okay-okay-okays. He took another sharp right turn at a traffic light, and I sensed how we were circling back to the Gramercy Medical Hospital.

Boombox shoved a sleek, small machine gun into my hands and gave me a nod.

I shook it and asked, “Do we have the Star Wars gun?”

D answered, “Nah, it’s with Baby Joker. We had to hustle to clear out the crib. Vamps know where it is now. It’s compromised.”

Boombox added, “Funboy thinks the vampires aren’t all together.”

“What?”

“He thinks they in different groups, like our gang outfits 'round the city. Like they ain’t workin’ together. Bateson was a vamp, but she sent us the Star Wars gun to kill another vamp. We startin’ to think Funboy’s onna somethin’,” Boombox said while rubbernecking to see if we were being followed. “Yo, Kell’, where are you clothes?”

“Don’t know. I didn’t really have time to ask around for my clothes on account of running outta there for my life. Oh, yeah—better give you guys the heads up. So, this demon detective guy can make lights go out—”

“Wow, he can use a light switch?” Boombox asked with even more sarcasm than I thought possible.

I ignored that, “He is also made of insects or something? And he’s got like Jedi powers, I think.”

“Sith,” D calmly said from the front.

Boombox and I both asked almost simultaneously, “What?”

See, Boombox was not a nerd and genuinely did not know. I, on the other hand, did not want to admit to being a nerd and getting that reference. I was surprised D knew, but on second thought, I barely knew him. We had only met two nights ago.

D refused to elaborate and focused on driving.

The car’s tires emitted a little screech as D brought the vehicle to an abrupt halt, causing us all to bob forwards and then back into our seats. I gritted my teeth and flinched as the pain in my belly region flared up again. Only with delay did I recognize that we were behind the hospital, at a separate entrance. And the bandages across my torso had reddened. The sight of it made me feel sick to my stomach.

We got out, but I stumbled and had to brace myself against the side of the car to stay standing. The dizziness spell was back, and I was about fifty fast spins away from ejecting my stomach contents onto the Tarmac.

Took me a moment to realize that both D and Boombox were staring at me, having stopped dead in their tracks.

D said, “Maybe you should wait in the car. You ain’t lookin’ too good.”

“And yo’ ass is bare, yo,” Boombox added, resting a shotgun against his shoulder.

D backhanded him in the chest and shook his head, frowning at him with obvious disapproval.

I wanted to protest but then ended up covering my mouth and fighting back the urge to throw up. So, I did the opposite and nodded in agreement and gave them a thumbs up.

“What’s this detective motherfucker look like?” D asked.

I shook my head. Managed to eke out, “Like an asshole.”

D arched his brow again.

I swallowed. Bitter taste. Bad. “Trench coat. Like some asshole from a TV show. Unkempt, hasn’t shaven in days, and when he did, he did so badly—I don’t know. He looks like an undercover cop, I’m sure you’ll recognize him easily. Trench coat. Asshole.”

I waved a hand dismissively and convulsed, fighting another wave of nausea. I collapsed back down onto the fuzzy seat, hoping it was clean enough for me to sit my bare butt down onto it.

The two young men nodded and pulled up their bandanas to cover the lower halves of their faces. They turned and jogged over to the back entrance of the hospital, where sliding doors opened, and they vanished into the bright glow of the Gramercy Medical’s insides.

I slowly hobbled around the car, glad that traffic back here was non-existent. There were a few parked ambulances, and the extent of other moving vehicles was limited to the ones crossing by the respective mouths into this short back road.

Fumbling around with the lock by the driver’s seat, I flipped the trunk to check if there were any spare clothes that I could scrounge up to wear instead of the flimsy hospital gown which was open on the back.

I muttered some more curses when I found the trunk to be filled with all sorts of guns and ammunition. There were also some knives and machetes. And chromed metal stakes like the ones that had come with the Star Wars gun.

All I found was a hoodie. It smelled like sweaty socks and motor oil.

I groaned as I slipped on the hooded sweater to the tune of my pain—not only coaxed out by the recurring stings in my belly region, but everything else was hurting like hell. I was covered in all sorts of black and blue spots and tiny little cuts, and they would not ease up on reminding me that I needed to lie down and sleep for one hundred hours.

Anyway, I guess the hoodie was better than nothing. And I could not believe I was thinking this, but I hoped people would look at my boobs first before noticing that I was barefoot and pantsless.

I almost keeled over again and hobbled my way back into the backseat where I sat down, leaving the door open. Just in case.

That case came sooner than desired. I only closed my eyes for a second and the world began to spin even worse. I could not fight it any longer and retched as I hurled up a bunch of acrid water and something that looked like tapioca pudding, splattering the ground outside the car.

After several bouts of coughing and spitting and swearing again over the pain in my belly region from the bullet wound and tears blurring my vision, I sat back into the car again and hoped that was the last of it. But it was not that one of those vomit sessions where you feel better afterwards. I felt just as wretched as before, if not even more.

However, it did seem to have lifted some weight off my shoulders and I closed my eyes again, letting my head drop back against the seat with a tired sigh.

I almost missed the car pulling up, alerted only by the sound of its tires screeching before it braked and stopped near the back entrance of the hospital.

Brubaker clambered out of the driver’s seat door and instantly stormed inside.

Also, I don’t know if you think it’s weird that I felt this way, but I got really angry over the thought that demon-detective-man had been this late. Sure, he was going to kill me or do something worse like turn me into one of those slime things, but I had busted my ass to get out of there in under an hour because that’s what he said I had. I hate it when people are late. (Even if I usually am. That is beside the point. Shut up.) That stupid son of a bitch either lied or forgot about the time and I felt deeply insulted either way.

That aside, I don’t know what I was thinking. At this point, I believe I had fully fallen into the groove of giving a damn about the Kings, even if I was just some rando who had tagged along with them. Or I wanted to watch their backs because I figured nobody else had mine and we were here together, stuck in a city that was apparently secretly overrun by monsters.

On the way over to the entrance to tail Brubaker inside, I stepped on a pebble or something else that hurt my foot. I hissed every other step of the way.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckmotherfuckerfuck—

Brubaker had stopped to talk to a nurse in the hallway, and I skidded to a stop, pausing by the door. But the sliding doors’ sensor had already caught me; the doors automatically opened with a loud WHOOSH, and I groaned and tried to hide, but it was already too late.

Brubaker turned and stared in my general direction, those piercing blue eyes scanning the back entrance and transfixing upon me. The smirk that crept across his face was downright demonic.

The nurse yelped in surprise as he shoved her into a doorway and pulled a pistol.

I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger and blazed away with the gun Boombox had given me. The weapon automatically belched out dozens of bullets and deafened me with the cracks from each shot.

When I opened an eye to survey what I had done or to see how Detective Brubaker would massacre me, I found that I had miraculously gunned him down. I had also devastated the hallway, evident from one of the fluorescent lamps dangling from the ceiling and bullet holes all over the place and the detective on the floor in a growing pool of tar-like black fluids.

A loud DING heralded the opening of elevator doors from which D and Boombox emerged, dragging an unconscious Loco Rocco as they carried him by an arm over their shoulders each—and I was once more surprised at how short the “boss”, Rocco, was in comparison to them. His feet were just dangling off the ground between them every time they lurched forwards. Roc was also wrapped in countless bandages and gauze, and dressed in a hospital gown, just like me.

D and Boombox’s eyes stretched as wide as saucers when they did a doubletake each at me, the dead detective on the ground, and then at the police patrol car pulling up with flashing lights behind me. The nurse peeking her head out from the doorway she had been shoved into had terror written all over her face, as well.

The mayhem that followed was spectacular. I was not thinking clearly, so I just swiveled, fell on my ass, and shouted in pain at the same time as I was pulling the trigger. I missed the cops and their car completely—I shot every single bullet over them and probably vandalized the building across the road.

You ever wonder what people feel like in the action movies when someone shoots guns out in the open on some street, and busts the windows of places that are not important to the story? No? Well, neither was I, and this was not an action movie. But I’ll get back to you about this particular instance. Not all coincidences are funny.

Boombox was suddenly by my side to perfect what I had intended.

“Y'all motherfuckers ain’t takin’ us alive!” he shouted. I wished he would speak for himself, but I was in no place to contradict him.

He fired his shotgun at the patrol car, jerked the weapon’s pistol grip pump, blasted them again, rinse repeat. His shots scared the officers in the car into scrambling out the backside of the vehicle to take cover from him.

Rocco grunted as he struggled to drag-carry Rocco on his own right past us, heading towards our car.

The moment I had managed to get back up onto my feet, I saw that Brubaker was doing the same and I froze.

There I was, the deer in the headlights again.

Worse: buzzing and susurrant swarms of writhing insects—centipedes, cockroaches, wasps, I don’t even want to think about all of them in detail—were spilling out from the places I had shot him. Every bullet hole a doorway to hell from which living suck crawled and festered outwards.

The nurse screamed as the swarm swelled and engulfed her. The lights were drowned out by the tide of insects exploding outwards from Brubaker’s body. Even though part of his lower jaw was missing—or because of that—his toothy grin looked especially hideous.

Demonic.

The avalanche of insects began to blot out the lights in the hospital corridor. It only now dawned on me that this was how he may have been manipulating the light in my room and it made me shudder while I scrambled backwards, tripping, falling, getting back up—just away from this nightmare, as quickly as possible.

Doing the same, Boombox choked out, “Holy fuckin’ shit!”

I only screamed. We all ran. I mean—I stumbled, mostly, and Boombox grabbed me by the arm to drag me along. My belly hurt. He fired a shot behind us as if that would stop the tide of insects, though glancing back, I saw his shot had made a humanoid silhouette inside the insect swarm stagger and slow down as Brubaker walked behind us, the epicenter of this writhing cloud of awfulness. All I could make out of his form was his hideous grin. The buzzing of the swarm got so loud that I could hear it despite the ringing in my ears from our many gunshots, punctuated by D firing at the patrol car to force the officers to stay in cover.

I expected to flinch and duck or even get shot by the patrol officers, but they, too, began to join the chorus of screaming. The swarm engulfed them and their car and one of them collapsed beside the vehicle, flailing about with all his limbs to no avail. The sheer number of insects was so immense that I immediately lost sight of him but instinctively knew that he was suffocating on cockroaches entering every orifice. I felt the urge to throw up again, but the urge to get the hell out of here eclipsed every other feeling.

Car doors slammed, tires screeched, Boombox drove now. I was on the passenger seat, D and the still unconscious Roc in the back.

A cloud of living darkness mercilessly followed us.

I was not even surprised when a bright red and fiery explosion erupted in the tail mirror—D had tossed a grenade out a window at the swarm. There was no way this was going to work, I figured, but the swarm dispersed, millions of insects scattering in every direction over asphalt and through the air. I could not make out Brubaker or any other humanoid shape when the flames had cleared. The cloud of darkness shrank behind us while Boombox stepped on the gas and broke every speeding limit on the planet.

I still could not believe that a simple hand grenade would kill an insect-swarm-demon, but it evidently had worked. And once more I felt angry. I would have expected more from Detective Asshole.

See, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking we’re stupid: stupid for fighting monsters that could do incredible things, unimaginable things. Stupid because we could have just run out of town. Stupid that we were bringing simple guns to superpowered-fights. And I am inclined to agree with you. To some degree, at least.

Yes, we were fucking idiots. But that was our superpower.

Like Roc once said, they never saw us coming.

Now, I am also open to suggestions. If you have any better idea how we’re supposed to fight vampire hordes and a demon invasion, I’m all ears. If you’re listening to me ramble about all this, then you know how to reach us, baby.

Otherwise, stay tuned to Rebel Radio—your line on bringing the fight to these awful playa-hating motherfuckers.

My story continues after this brief musical intermission. Also, I think I heard something outside.

We’ll see.

—Submitted by Wratts