#I was just looking at cool pictures of sheep and had to figure the rest out later

[ohnoitsz1m]

It him 👍

Furry Adrian Shephard :]

He's a sheep (mouflon x navajo churro)

Ramble below

So to be honest I really didn't like Opposing Force. It was kind of a chore and it's really not that well designed from just like a gameplay perspective. And to be fair neither is blue shift but blue shift is poorly designed in a way that's just kind of boring and lets you breeze through the game without much of a challenge- Opposing Force has the complete opposite issue at least in my opinion. Opposing Force has such a strange difficulty curve and really struggles to communicate concepts to the player.

But I did like one thing about Opposing Force. I like the silent protagonist. He gets so much characterization most of which I think is probably unintentional and me just reading something interesting into an uninteresting character. But like hear me out.

The game opens up with Adrian Shephard on his way to Black Mesa while the other people in his unit talk amongst themselves about how much they want to kill something and how irritating it is that they don't have their orders yet. Their helicopter is taken out and Shephard is now the sole survivor out of his unit. Following this he is saved by a Black Mesa scientist- had Shephard received his orders and made it to Black Mesa he probably would have had to kill this dude. However he doesn't know he's supposed to be killing scientists and security guards and is later forced to accept help from Otis a Black Mesa security guard 🎉 so already he's kind of doing the opposite of what he's supposed to be doing. Later in the game you start picking up little alien guns and whatnot and use them to get through the game, one of these being the spore launcher. This thing really made me open to the idea of caring about Adrian- I'm really fatigued by the whole army man shit. I like war movies don't get me wrong but there's only so many times I can watch full metal jacket before I get tired of it. So anyways. There's an idle animation that sometimes happens while you're holding the spore launcher where Adrian will pet it. And it responds to him. They didn't need to do this. Like they really didn't need to do this, but it adds so much to Adrian as a character that he's just.. compelled to pet this weird little alien that he's been using as a gun since he found it.

I just think like conceptually he's really interesting. Like this game demands you to rely on everything that you were primed to kill going in. Like in Half Life and in Blue Shift you have to kill soldiers, in Opposing Force the main like thing that makes this game special is that you are a soldier and you have to rely on other soldiers to help you through the game. Well okay you're a soldier so that means you're going to be killing scientists and security guards right? Not necessarily. Your first encounter with a scientist is him saving your life and trying to save the life of your comrades, your first encounter with a security guard is him opening a door for you after you run away from a zombie completely unarmed

So those are my thoughts on Adrian Shephard 👍 I think he's strange and very interesting

[euronymous-files]

What follows is a summary of the most interesting information (about Euronymous) that Marius Vold gave during an interview with Thomas Eriksen of Mork. The direct quotes are in bold, and the rest is a concise version of what was said. You should definitely check the whole interview here.

note: M is Marius, E is Euronymous, V is Varg and T is Thomas (the interviewer).

............................................

- M worked at Helvete, he made many of the medieval weapons, chain mail and clothing that can be seen in various bands' pictures in the first days of norwegian black metal - fun fact: M got scared the first time he listened to "Deathcrush" - M talked to E a few months before E opened Helvete. E told him about his idea of opening a record store and M liked it. Then one day E called M and told him to come and see the shop. When M got there he was impressed with the atmosphere but he also remembers there was almost nothing on the shelves. "They painted the whole thing black, he and Metalion, I think". - E was importing records for the store but there weren't many of them... but people came to the store and donated some of their records; everyone was contributing in some way, as a community. Some would also give them other stuff like candles, curtains, or a telephone. - "It was all black. When you came in from outside into the store you couldn't see anything. You had to stop and just wait for the eyes to focus. And the most funny thing was right inside the door there was a step up and EVERYONE tripped! [laughter] We were just sitting there in the dark and waiting for someone to come in and trip. Really fall on the floor and then point and laugh [more laughter]." - So at the beginning they got free records from their supporters, plus E through his contacts abroad managed to import some more records, and by selling them they started to make some capital, but they never actually got any money out of it because all the income was barely enough to pay the monthly rent which was around 6000 kroner. - apart from records (especially demo tapes), they would also sell the weapons that Marius and Sverd (Steinar Johnsen) made. - They would get lots of customers but "E had this idea that you shouldn't make too much money, you shouldn't be greedy, so when he sold an album for like 120kroner he's like maybe 20 kroner for him, so you can't run a record shop." So if he bought an album for 100 he would resell it for 120, but those 20 went all into the rent. "So he wasn't greedy, then?", asks T. "Absolutely not!" replies M. - The staff at Helvete was: E, M, Occultus, Thrasher, a girl named Tove and another young boy who didn't want to go to school anymore and wanted to work in Helvete, so his teacher came down to the shop one day to check the place and asked E if the kid could work there and E was like "sure". - E lived in the back room. "It was no way to live. Mattress on the floor, with all the books [...] then he found kind of a secret room in the ceiling [...] 1.20m high, so he put his bed in there, but it was so difficult to get up and down. [There was no ladder] He had to climb on the shelves and pull himself up there. I think he was glad when he finally got another place to stay when he closed the shop." - "E was a guy with a lot of ideas". "In a positive way?" asks T. "Both ways", replies M. [laughter] "He had all these thoughts about the music [...] what it should mean and the feeling around it, and it was very important for him that most people didn't like it. They shouldn't like it. Less people the better." "It's a funny way to look at things when you're trying to run a business", says T. "Yeah, but he was really not TRYING to run a business.", answers M. [more laughter] He was rather interested in enjoying the sense of community and being around like-minded people, and with time more and more people gathered around the shop, and with them came also "the wrong people". - The satanic part was just image, there was nothing "ritualistic" going on. "It was to scare the guys in the street". "The closest satanic thing was maybe lighting the candles, having a photoshoot in the basement, corpse paint, walking around in capes and stuff, but you didn't talk in old latin and write big pentagrams or anything, you know? No killing sheep...". - M never liked Burzum’s music at all - T says he knows E's girlfriend. M asks "which one?" and T replies "The last one". Then T says "I remember the first time I met her - I'm not going to use any names - but the first time I met her we were in the same room and I was talking about music, as we do, and I happened to say that I like Burzum, as a reference, and she kind of had it with me... We're friends now, there's no problem, but I understand that you guys were so close to it..." - the first time M saw V it was in Helvete. E called M and said "I have a strange guy in the store, he's been here for the whole day... just been there, you know... and he's talking about fantasy and LOTR...". E wasn't into that but knew that M was so E asked M if he wanted to come down to the store to talk to this weird guy. After talking for a night, M says about V: "He rubbed me the wrong way, he wanted everything more extreme. He was talking about 'it would be really cool to make a live with just black metal people'...ok, what's that about?... 'Just hunting each other in the forest with real swords and real knives'... ok, ok, you know I don't want my arm cut off... so I took a step back, let him just talk." - the moment V entered the picture and he became friends with E, M says was the point where everything turned to the worse. - the Black Circle - as it was indeed called at the time, according to M - was just around 10 people. They were in because of the way they looked at things, how they fitted into this cult-like vision. The members were E, M, V, Snorre, Faust, Fenriz, Ted, Occultus and Hellhammer (but he was in and out). Some people asked to get in but that's not how it worked, you needed to be considered worthy. It was essentially like a gang of friends, they would hang out in the basement and have parties, listening to metal and stuff... - Helvete closed in march '93 both because of the amount of attention from the media and because of the rent being too high. E also had some pressure from his family. He was living in the store in terrible conditions, he wanted out, so his parents basically told him that if he closed the shop, they were going to help him get a place to stay. So he accepted, deciding to concentrate more on the label. - there wasn't really any written contract between E and V, it was more a verbal deal. In the beginning V said he could pay for the whole thing, that he wanted his album to come out on DSP because he wanted to use the DSP name to get more attention. M never heard V being unhappy with the economical part and he doesn't know where the hostility came from. M doesn't remember E ever telling him why things got wrong with V. He says "V often lied about things. For me he lied a lot." - After Helvete closed, M remained in contact with both E and V but he never liked V so it was only V who called him and M just listened to V talking and then replied in a disinterested way. M recalls V telling him "If you come to Bergen and if you support me and not that fucking guy in Oslo, then I will buy more clothes from you and the chain mail and stuff". M says "I could see through that, it was just bullshit, he was saying that to butter me up". - M was informed of E's death by Hellhammer. M was shocked and kept thinking who could have done this; he couldn't figure it out but he went to the police because he had to tell them that in his opinion E must have known his murderer, since the only way to get into the apartment complex was to ring the intercom and announce yourself. Also, there was no name on E's button, so the killer must have known which one to push and E must have recognized the person, and let him in, in the middle of the night. M also says that E was very careful about that, he never let in anybody he didn't know, not even someone who claimed to be the mailman. - After E's death, M didn't have any more inspiration and didn't want to stay in the community. "I had kind of a reaction to metal after the death of E. I couldn't listen to metal for several years."

----------------------------------- The Thomas Eriksen Podcast #10 - Marius Vold

[willowbird]

For the prompt thing, could you do 2 for au, 4 for trope and 5 for prompt with andreil?

Hogwarts au, meet messy, "you have the emotional capacity of a brick"

Dearest anon, how did you know that I have been literally aching for an excuse to do something with a hogwarts au?

For context, because idk if I'll be able to explain it in the ficlet, Andrew and Aaron have been raised by their real father, Joseph Minyard, and his wife, Betsy Dobson, since the twins were seven. Andrew instinctively retaliated against an abuser with magic when he was in foster care, bringing him to the attention of whatever the US's ministry of magic is called (I forgot). They found his dad, who is a British wizard, and also discovered Aaron's existence. The twins, upon meeting each other and finding out they were wizards, chose to stay together and go with their dad rather than risk potentially being separated in whatever system the US magic people has for orphaned magic kids.

(look, I've been thinking about this A LOT okay?)

The following scene would take place the summer before the twins' fifth year. They are fifteen, Kevin is sixteen, Neil is fourteen.

Please be aware that all these characters are a lot younger and significantly less traumatized. I mean, shit still happened to them, but they all get rescued from their abusive home lives a lot earlier than in canon.

---

Andrew Minyard had lost a bet.

It was a really shitty bet, and Andrew should have known at the time that he was being fucking set up. But, well - what was it that broody fucker always said? Oh. C'est la vie. Or something. Whatever.

Point being, Andrew made a stupid bet and then he lost and it was really his own damn fault. Now he was stuck going to stupid Kevin Day's stupid house to play stupid broom-ball over summer break when he could have been basking in the wonders of muggle efficiency like television and air conditioning. What made it worse was that his mom had been so damn delighted that he was going over to a friend's house, too, and Andrew didn't usually have it in him to smash her hopes and dreams when she was so genuinely happy for him.

So. Here he was, broom in hand (because if he had to do this he was at least going to suffer with the familiarity of his own fucking broom), staring up at obviously haunted creaky old manor house that Day apparently lived in.

"Great," he grumbled to himself. "Just.. great." Andrew did not like ghosts, did not like them one fucking bit. They always wanted to chat you up and had absolutely no respect for personal space.

The longer he delayed, though, the longer Day was probably going to force him to participate in his bullshit "training camp", so Andrew straightened his shoulders and trudged up the cracked stone staircase that lead up the hill to the front door of the house. The very second Andrew had both feet on the dilapidated front porch, one hand reaching for the knocker, the front door began to swing slowly open. You know, as they were wont to do in creepy old ghost-infested houses owned by wizards.

Without waiting for a welcome (because the door fucking opened for him, that was invitation enough), Andrew strolled inside. He didn't even flinch when the door slammed shut behind him.

(Okay, maybe he jumped a little bit. Just a little.)

No one was waiting for him in the foyer, because of course that would be too easy. At least the inside of the house didn't look as abandoned as the outside did. On the contrary, the foyer was well-lit and free dust and cobwebs. It opened up into a round sitting room that looked lived-in rather than haunted, personal affects strewn about here and there in vaguely organized chaos and family pictures on the mantle above the fireplace.

This, Andrew had learned quickly upon his introduction to the magical world about seven or so years ago now, was fairly common when it came to magical families living in and around muggle neighborhoods. Sure, there were wholly wizarding villages, but not a ton of them. Most of the magical community had to coexist or at least peripherally exist with the muggle one. With the work of a couple of charms and a heavy dose of aesthetic, a magical family could live comfortably without the muggles looking too closely - and even if they did look closely, it was the haunted old house at the end of the street so strange things were bound to happen around it, right?

Homey as it may be on the inside, it was still actually haunted, though. Andrew had a good sense about ghostly lairs and this was definitely one of them.

Heaving a sigh, Andrew moved through the sitting room and ventured deeper into the house. The sooner he found Kevin, the sooner he could leave.

The rest of the house, Andrew swiftly found, was an uncanny combination of the haunted image it presented to outsiders and the cozy haven of the front sitting room. The hall leading off the sitting room was normal when you looked down it heading away from the sitting room, but when Andrew looked back over his shoulder it was like looking into something out of a cheap horror film (of which Andrew had viewed many, much to his father and brother's chagrin, but his mother liked to critique them with him).

Andrew checked each door he came across. Some of them were locked. Some opened into perfectly normal coat closets and bathrooms. At least one of them opened onto an actual cemetery where a bunch of ghosts were playing croquet. Andrew quickly shut that door before any of them tried to talk to him.

It was when he came to the staircase, however, that he finally started to get somewhere. Voices could be heard when he hit the first landing, but they completely vanished when tried to move beyond it - either further up the stairs or out into the hall. Turning to inspect the walls, Andrew realized that one of them wasn't actually a wall at all, but an illusion -- his hand right through!

"This is getting ridiculous," Andrew grumbled to himself as he stepped through the goddamn fucking wall.

He found himself in a wide, clean hallway bathed in the bright sunlight that was streaming in from the skylights placed every few feet. From one of the open doors a bit down the hall, Andrew could finally make out the words of what was obviously an argument.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not going to your bloody school, Day?!"

"You can't just not go to school, Neil! The Ministry will have your wand, and then where will you be?"

"Oh come off it, do you really still buy into all that regulatory shit? They can't track me if I'm not a student unless they have an open warrant out on me. I could turn the corner store into a giant anthropomorphic pig that pisses coffee and they wouldn't know it happened until the story hit the local news, and even then they'd have a hard time tracking me down, considering those lazy twats barely even know how to read let alone track a rogue wizard."

"Galloping Gargoyles, Neil. Where in Merlin's name do you come up with this shit."

"It's called an imagination, Day. I was able to foster one while not being indoctrinated into the sheep-brain miasma that is Ministry-approved wizarding society."

This 'Neil' was getting more worked up as he spoke, spitting out his words like he was crafting a very pointed hex. There was the scuff of footsteps and a shadow fell across the hall as someone stepped toward the hall. "I'll be leaving now, thanks. Have fun being institutionally programed to fit the conservative mediocrity."

A larger shadow blotted out most of Neil's. "You can't just go, Neil!"

There was a scuffle, then a short kid wearing oversized robes stumbled into the hall. "Try and bloody catch me then, you lumbering infant of a Bandersnatch!" And then the kid turned and bolted down the hall -- right toward where Andrew had paused to eavesdrop on their conversation.

Now, Andrew was all ready to step aside. This was none of his business, after all. If this mouthy kid wanted to run away and join the circus or something, more power to him. He, also, thought school was a nightmare. But then Kevin stumbled out into the hall and shouted, "Andrew! Block him!"

And, well. Look. This was all fucking Kevin's fault. Kevin and his stupid cross-House quidditch club and his obsession with running drills. It was also Nicky's fault, for forcing them all to go so they could bond or what the fuck ever the purpose was. But Kevin shouted 'block!' and Andrew had spent two years as a beater and one year as a keeper and, well, reflexes kicked in.

He blocked.

Except, he had spent two years as a beater, and he was holding a broom. So.

His arms moved on their own, and it was a mighty, vicious swing. The next second the kid was flat on his back, gasping to try and catch his breath. Kevin loped over on legs too long, shooting Andrew an appreciative grin that Andrew kind of wanted to punch off of him.

"What.. the.. actual... fuck..." the kid - Neil - wheezed from the floor.

Now that he was officially drawn into this mess, Andrew allowed himself to indulge his curiosity and slung his broom up against one shoulder to approach the fallen boy. He felt a little bad (okay, more than a little), so he figured he'd offer him a hand up at least. Except, when he got to the kid and looked down he was shocked to find just about the prettiest boy in the whole Nimue-cursed universe.

(Andrew's gay awakening had happened when he was twelve years old. The keeper of the Gryffindor quidditch team smiled at him and told him he'd make a pretty good beater. Andrew had tried out for his own House team the very next week, and it had all been downhill from there.)

Andrew cleared his throat and opened his mouth to say something cool and unbothered, because that's what you did when you met someone pretty and wanted to impress them. Instead, like the utter dork that he was, he said, "Red hair and a hand-me-down robe? You must be a Weasley."

"What the fuck is a Weasley?" the sharp, pretty boy on the floor shot back through gritted teeth, pushing himself up into a sitting position.

Kevin's obnoxious shadow fell across the both of him and he sighed, putting his hands on his hips. "Don't mind Andrew, he remembers everything he hears and has a tendency to regurgitate random lines from other things when he feels awkward or anxious."

"Don't mind Kevin," Andrew followed up conversationally, "he's an insufferable know-it-all with a tendency to overshare and force people to play stupid broom-ball when they should be having a perfectly air-conditioned summer break."

"You emotionally wound me."

"You have the emotional capacity of a brick, don't try me Day."

Kevin rolled his eyes. Neil honed in on Andrew with eerie intensity. "You have an air-conditioner?"

Aha! Mission accomplished: cute boy impressed.

Andrew smirked. "Yup." He popped the 'p', feeling quite good about himself, his earlier bumble placed in the back of his head where he could obsess about it later.

Neil's narrowed eyes scanned him up and down, then relaxed, the blue of them bright and intelligent. He looked like he was figuring something out about Andrew but Andrew had no idea what or why. It took some effort, but instead of squirming he met Neil's gaze full-on. After a long moment, Neil seemed to have made a decision. He pushed himself up to his feet and nodded. "Alright then. You play quidditch?" He gestured to Andrew's broom with the jerk of his chin.

He hadn't noticed it earlier because he'd been so fascinated with the argument itself, but now that he could focus on Neil's voice, Andrew realized that there was something of about his accent. It wasn't that it seemed fake but more that it... it reminded him of his own, back when he'd been younger and had only been in England for a couple of years. He remembered being teased for it, and getting into a lot of fights because of that. Well, he remembered getting into fights because Aaron was also teased, and no one picked on his brother but him.

"I thought you were going to run off and join the circus." Andrew arched a brow.

Neil wrinkled his nose. "No. I'm still not going to your stupid castle school." He paused and looked from Andrew to the broom back over to Kevin and sighed. "But... one or two games of quidditch before I go can't hurt."

Kevin looked overjoyed. He grinned at Andrew and Andrew supposed that they really must be friends now, because he felt quite pleased about that.

"Great!" said Kevin. "Let's go! We should be able to get in some warm-up rounds before the others get here!"

"Others?" Andrew and Neil said with identical inflections of disdain. The sound of an echo startled the both of them and the looked at each other. Then, Neil smiled.

Andrew supposed a day without AC playing stupid broom-ball wasn't so bad after all.

Fun little prompt things

[baby-n-boo]

Not Alone- kid!wilbur, older kid!techno, very little kid!tommy, even smaller kid!tubbo, dad!za.

The sun rose bright and warm on the small cottage in the forest, shining familiarly through the thin curtains to wake the thirteen-year-old splayed across his bed, legs tangled in the blue, sheep printed sheets that were a little too small for the bed itself. He groaned, and rolled over, almost falling off the bed as he moved, it being far too early to be awake, especially on a lazy day such as this one. It wasn’t like he had anything to do, no school, no sparring practice, not even any chores. A perfect day to stay in bed until the sun went away again.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t afforded that luxury, as his door was thrown open, slamming against the wall as it swung, and the cool dawn breeze washed over his exposed skin, ruffling his hair gently. “Wake up, wake up, wake up!” an excitable voice squeaked, before a weight threw itself at the bed, making it bounce wildly. Coughing, with a breathless “oof”, he couldn’t help but open his eyes now, to see the almost-vibrating form of his younger brother, a grin splitting his face almost in half. “oh, hey Will.” he muttered, wearily, and reaching for his glasses. “What’s, uh...what's up?” Fighting back a yawn, sure he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep now the kid had invaded.

Wilbur bounced again, his hands flapping excitedly, as he grinned. “It’s my birfday! Happy birfday to me, happy birfday to me!” he squeaked, starting to sing as he slid back off the bed and started spinning in circles while singing. “Techy! Sing with me!” he gasped, holding his hands out towards his brother eagerly, making it hard for the teen to refuse, as he smiled weakly. “I’m getting up, don’t worry.” Techno assured, as he slithered reluctantly out of bed, pulling on the first shirt to reach his hands- one of Phil’s donated pieces- and took Wilbur’s quivering hand. “Yeah, uh...” he started, not really singing, though the nine-year-old didn’t seem to mind. “Ha-Happy Birthday, I guess?” he sounded tentative, like he hadnt quite done it right.

“Yay! Thank You!” Will’s grin only got bigger, showing the gap where his front tooth used to be, as he dragged Techno towards the bedroom door. “Cummon, Techy! Everyone else ‘s already up! Dad sent me to come get youuuuu.” He couldn’t stop talking, excitement flowing through his very veins, at the very premise of a birthday. Techno didn’t quite understand what was so important about it, or what significance it held, especially if it meant waking up so ridiculously early on a summer morning. Still, he muffled his groan as the sunlight streaming through the front windows hit his eyes, trying his hardest to smile encouragingly whenever the kid looked back to him. Even as his head pounded and his broken glasses dug into the bridge of his nose.

Seeing the rest of the group sat about the coffee table, which had been piled high with presents, Techno couldn’t help but wrap his free arm about his chest, as it ached. Tommy was bouncing almost as much as WIlbur, holding a small, sloppily wrapped bundle tight in his lap, like it was precious, whilst Tubbo, the youngest of the boys, was sat, wedged right up against the edge of the couch, nervously gripping Phil’s sleeve as he saw the eldest be dragged in. Phil, himself, had taken a comfortable seat right in the centre of the couch, a sheepish smile on his face as he saw Techno’s bewildered face. “Hey Will? I don’t think he wants to be pulled everywhere?” Phil drew the boy's attention, chuckling slightly as Wilbur rushed an apology, stumbling over the words, and threw himself into the dining chair that had been hastily decorated with some balloons, to signify a birthday boy’s throne.

Trying to clear up the misunderstanding, Techno held up a hand, ignoring how the too-big sleeve flopped over his fingers, and muttered his own apology. “No, really, it’s my fault, I...i wasn’t going fast enough. It’s fine.” The words fell on deaf ears, however, as Phil smiled apologetically for Will’s behaviour, beckoning the eldest of the four over to sit with him. Instead, he elected to sink down, crosslegged onto the floor, leaning awkwardly against an armchair, and hugged his knees to his chest to hide the way it was aching. It wasn’t like it was a new position, he liked to sit on the floor, and Phil had stopped questioning it now, sure he would sit on chairs when he wanted to, but, especially today, he could enjoy the fact the spotlight was as far away from on him as it could possibly be.

Subtly combing his fingers through his bed head, he watched through strands of unruly, candyfloss hair as Will descended like a vulture onto the pile of gifts with Phil’s blessing, surfacing with the biggest one. He looked to the fatherly figure for approval, and, after he received a nod, dug all ten of his fingers into the thin wrapping at the same time, yanking to open it in only the way a nine-year-old really could. Shreds of paper went everywhere, Tubbo giggling as a piece landed squarely on his nose, Will’s eyes racing hungrily over the bundle of brown and black that fell out. “It’s a coat like mine, I thought you might want to have one.” Phil explained, as Will unfolded it to reveal a rather less tattered trench-coat than the one Phil was speaking of, the one hung beside the door. Squealing, he held it tight to his chest, almost tripping as he ran over to Phil, and threw himself at him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'm gunna wear it everyday, and ill be so cool!” He promised, ignoring how Phil was laughing openly at how big it was. His hands barely even came to the elbows, the tails dragging on the floor behind him as he excitedly ran to his little brother to show him. “Look, Look, Look, Tommy! I’m so cool!” he yelled, as Tommy almost bounced right out of his seat.

“Uh-huhs! You look awesum, Wilby!” the blond grinned, his hair falling over his eyes as he nodded enthusiastically. Wilbur seemed to glow at the praise, his mind racing a million miles an hour as Tubbo nodded to back up Tommy’s point, the sun seeming to shine specifically on him in that moment. “We’re gunna have such cool adventures! Oh, Dad, Dad, Dad, can I go play? I'll be really good, promise!” Will begged, pointing to the window, through which he could see a few animals milling around, the salmon in the river playing lazily in the sun spots. Phil looked amused, shaking his head a little, as Techno stifled a snort. “Maybe later, lil siren. For now, look! You’ve still got more presents! Tommy, how about you give Will yours next?” He carefully redirected the point, relieved as Tommy gasped, and whirled round to grab the brown paper wrapped bundle from where it had fallen to the cushion during their bouncing.

Pushing the sleeves up, and suddenly looking a whole lot more mature as he did so, Wilbur accepted the gift, graciously thanking his little brother, even as the paper almost fell apart in his hands. He tried his hardest to be gentle with it, especially as Tommy watched on, sure that it was precious. And, as he finally unwrapped it from the tissue paper, and it fell into his hand, he couldn’t help but gasp. A small, hand-engraved locket had fallen into his hand, the chain thin and delicate, as it rippled between his fingers, dangling down. Cautiously opening it, Will smiled wide, faced with a picture of his dad, hand on each of his son’s shoulders, Tubbo sat in front of them, all wearing genuine smiles. That was sweet enough, to have his family staring back at him, but the other side held a picture of a pink haired pre-teen, wearing strangely formal clothes, but recognisable all the same. “Techy! Techy look!” Will smiled, rushing over to thrust it in the half-piglin's face, so he could see. The addition of his own picture in the clearly family-heirloom made Techno’s heart flutter a little, especially as he could tell it had been Phil’s experienced hand that had put it together. He replied with a sof smile, and a quiet “huh, ‘tis me, yeah. Thats pretty cool, Will.”, trying his hardest to catch Phil’s eye to send a grateful look his way, though the old man seemed to be purposefully looking away, a slight blush the onbly sign it had affected him at all.

Gently slipping the chain over his head, Will let the heavy piece rest halfway down his chest, as he headed back to the presents, not seeing how Techno’s eyes had glossed over a little at the gesture. Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t even notice as the pile slowly dwindled, more and more activities or toys or clothes spilling out of the bright paper, almost drowning the kid, at least not until a ball of paper caught the side of his head, making him zone back in. Quickly scrubbing at the tears that had, rather embrassingly, slid down his cheeks whilst he hadnt noticed, Techno turned his head towards the perpetrator of the assault, scowling slightly when he saw it had been a laughing Phil.

“That hurt.” he complained bluntly, rubbing at his pointed ear, where it had caught him, adjusting the course strands of hair he had tucked behind said ear, instead of tying it up. “Sorry, son. It’s just, we’ve been calling you for a couple minutes now.” he apologised, rubbing his neck awkwardly, especially as Techno’s eyes widened at the endearment. Before he could question it, however, Phil spoke up again. Or at least, tried to. “I was gunna-” he started, before Wilbur jumped in, having changed from his pyjamas to a loose, hempen shirt and some jeans, with, of course, his precious jacket.

“We’re gunna go play! You wanna come with us?” he enthused, pulling his boots onto the wrong feet in his excitement, and making Phil have to stoop from where he was helping Tommy with his buttons, to swap them over. “Let’s play revolution!” he continued, Tubbo following mutely but happily behind the two boys as they ran to the door, his oversized, hand-me-down green shirt flopping around as he moved. “It’s no fun with just one, two of us! Tubbo doesn’t count when we play, he’s too small.” he protested, as Techno went to shake his head, really not feeling up to playing pretend with the boys that day. He had too much to think about. Phil wasn’t having any of it, though, picking up his sunhat from the hook and calling across the room. “Come on, Tech, We’ll all go, I have to head into town to get something anyway, you can come me if you arent going to play with them.” He left no room to wriggle out, making Techno heave a sigh, and nod, slipping away to his room to change. He could hear the excited screams as Phil opened the door to let all three of the littler kids out, and the following yell to “be nice to Tubbo!” as Tommy obviously left him behind to run into the cooler woods.

It didn’t take long to slip into a light, ruffled front shirt and some black dress pants, Techno feeling more comfortable in the antique style clothes, though he couldn’t help sinking down onto his unmade bed, as his stomach ached harder. It might have been hunger, since he hadnt eaten anything since the previous night, but, hearing the faint whoops of Will as he started up one of his too-complex games, Techno knew it wasn’t anything as physical as that. No, it was much deeper.

Quietly wrapping one arm about his stomach again as he headed out, having shoved on some boots, and thrown his too-long hair into some semblance of out-his-face, he tried to paste on a sort of smile for his adoptive carer, sure he’d never hear the end of it if he showed how much he wanted to frown. He did gain a small eyebrow furrow, but, luckily, Phil had the sense not to push, instead pulling out a wide brimmed straw hat for the easily-burnt half-piglin, and passed it over. “Here, we have to go get the cake for later, I had it made specially by that baker in town.” He was reading off a scribbled grocery list, clutched in one hand as he grabbed a basket with the other, not even looking away from the writing to catch the rest of the stuff trying to tumble out of the cupboard, and shove it back in. Techno nodded quietly, knowing the one he meant, and planning how best to Not-Be-There, since it was probably the busiest store of the waterfront on a normal day, never mind today, when everyone would be seeking pies and pastries for their summer parties. He notoriously wasn’t good with crowds, though he didn’t dare tell Phil this, in case it was a nuisance, instead opting to take a peek at the list, and offer to get something else at the same time.

The sudden burst of helpfullness didn’t escape notice, but, given how much he had to get, Phil didn’t much mind, setting the teen on the job of collecting fruits, and stashed the list away in his pocket, to plot the rest of when they got there. He wasn’t sure how long his boys would be out, but he really didn’t want to keep them waiting too long if they got bored before he got back. Having pre-prepared a tray of snacks and water bottles earlier in the day, he quickly propped the door open with a foot, popping it on the low, end table just outside, for precisely that purpose, before waving a hesitant Techno through with a smile. “Out we come, then.” He joked, pulling out the key to lock the cottage door behind them both, his shoes thudding familiarly on the worn stone step, reminding Techno he wasn’t gunna be going on his own, as he shuffled awkwardly between feet.

He wasn’t used to going out without his cape about his shoulders to help hide him from the world, but even now, he could feel the sun beating down on his shoulders and back, warming him almost to discomfort, even without the thick layer of velvet. He cleared his throat, easily falling into step just behind Phil as they passed the squeaky, broken gate, and straight into the field across the road, taking the wooded path shortcut, much to the relief of the teen, not sure he could have made it all the way up the main road and back today. The rustling of the wheat, and foraging of smaller animals was all that breached the comfortable silence that settled over the two of them as they walked, having established that neither was good at small talk months ago, back when days still came and went in darkness.

They had their own minds for company, for the most part, Phil seeming to hear songs on the wind to hum along to tunelessly whenever he felt like it, and really, Techno wouldn’t have it any other way, especially as it gave him something else to focus on, other than the weird feeling he was struggling to put a name to. He may have squealed slightly as a cow wandered across their path, spooking him a little, and causing Phil to chuckle, squeezing his shoulder a little with his callused hand, but, if he had longed for the warm touch to linger a little longer, well that was between him and the trees.

Before long, the trees thinned out, bit-by-bit, interrupted by houses where they would fit, until, by some strange occurrence, they found themselves stood in the town square, like they had been there all along. Still not used to how sudden it felt, Techno spun gently to get his bearings back, before pulling on the basket. “I’ll...i’ll go to the market, if you want to go get the cake before it gets too busy?” he offered, flinching at the merchants hawking their wares at the top of their lungs only a little ways away. Phil nodded, seeing an opportunity to join the three-person queue, hurrying off with barely another word than “Meet back here”, leaving Techno stood, clutching the basket to his chest, in the middle of the path.

Luckily, most people knew Phil, and so, by extension, Techno, in this small village, shaking their heads good-naturedly as he wandered the stalls, looking for the carrots. Trying to ease the furrowed brow he always seemed to wear, they called out jokes, or offered discounts, but he mostly kept his head down, shoving the number of vegetables he needed into the basket, and holding out the money to the appropriate local merchant. Really, he needed to buy Will a gift, since he had flat-out forgotten what the day was, and he really didn’t want to give Phil a reason to put him back out on the street where he had found him.

Finding he barely had enough coins left in the small pouch Phil had handed him for a hunk of cheese, Techno sighed, dejected, sure he was going to have to pick a flower and pretend it was important, and turned to leave. His last hope was a new stall, tucked right in the corner, boasting rare and wonderful treasures he was sure would be cheap tat. Sidling up to the stall, he tried not to be intimidated by the trader keeping their head shrouded in the shadow of their green cloak, and instead, muttered “Do...Do you have anything for a handful of bronze?” like it was something to be ashamed of. The merchant gasped, pulling back the blanket that had covered their wares previously, to show a distinct lack of prices. “Anything here may be purchased for your budget.” He spoke smoothly, as if luring Techo into making a mistake.

For the most part, he had been right, it was cheap tat, painted bright colors to attract fools. But leaning up against the side of the rickety shelf, stood a gleaming wooden instrument, as if begging to be bought, as if it wanted to be played. He couldn’t help but smile, knowing it was perfect for Wilbur, no questions asked. Pointing to it, he nodded. “I want that.” he spoke bluntly, leaving no room for error, watching as the strange merchant picked up in a gloved hand, and inspected it. “Ah, yes, a wonderful choice. I am sure it will be in good hands. That will be five bronze then.” He held out the spare hand, for Techno to upend the coin purse into, watching as five scuffed, browning circles fell out. Snapping the hand shut before he could take the coins back, the strange merchant lifted the instrument over the desk to Techno, knocking back his hood in the process. “Very good.” He spoke, not seeming to notice as Techno backed away, eyes transfixed on the smiling mask he wore over his own face.

Slinging the carrying strap of the instrument over his shoulder, Techno took off running, the basket of carrots banging against his leg as he moved, only daring to look back when he got to the familiar vegetable stalls he had grown up with. The merchant was gone, only a dusty corner left where he had once been, as if it had all been imagined. Rubbing his eyes, behind the broken rims of his glasses, Techno panted, sinking down onto the bench he had been told to meet Phil back at, and tried to calm himself by rubbing his fingers up and down the thick material of the strap. It didn’t make any sense, but, shaking it off as the old man walked up with a carefully balanced patisserie box, he stood and smiled, holding up the basket. “Got ‘em.” he spoke quietly, feeling slightly better at Phil’s affirming smile of praise.

“We should hurry back, Tommy’s attention span isnt too long.” Phil chuckled, speaking fondly about his middle son, shuffling the box to a more sustainable position. “Then, cake! Which I'm sure everyone is excited for!” Techno nodded softly, watching as the baker’s daughter, Niki, ran across the square, chasing pigeons and laughing. She was only a few years younger than Will, but somehow she looked so much smaller, more innocent. He only hoped the best for her. Hoped she would grow up loved and cared for.

Pulling his attention back to the present, he saw Phil had already strated walking, hurrying to catch up with him, and walk in time. The journey was so much quicker on the way back, the path clear of wandering cows, Techno even finding some suspicious looking mushrooms he might have been able to make a soup out of, just growing at the foot of a tree. He didn’t dare pick them, knowing how many people walked their dogs through the wood, but he did make a mental note to research them in one of Phil’s many books when he got some free time.

Soon enough, they were heading back through the wheat, greeted by three tired looking kids, as they lazed about in varying levels of sleepiness on the front lawn. Laughing as Wilbur instantly perked up at the cake box, Phil ushered his boys aside, handing the heavy and cool box to Techno whilst he unlocked the door, trusting him with the responsibility. He didn’t take it back as everyone rushed in, either, letting Techno go last so he could get the box onto the dining table with minimal little kid help. It was a nice feeling, especially as Phil got everyone cleaned up and seated, giving the eldest the honor of opening the box, to reveal a white frosting covered cake, “Happy Birthday, Wilbur” piped on the top with yellow, cursive icing. Practically bouncing off the walls, Wilbur begged his dad to let him have some now, to which Phil reluctantly relented, moving to get plates and a knife to cut the cake with, with the warning they were only allowed a small slice, so they would still eat their lunch. Tommy didn’t seem particularly pleased with the news, protesting “but daaaaaad” loudly, giving Will the perfect opportunity to start talking Techno’s ear off.

“Birfdays are the bestest! I want it to be a birfday everyday! You get cake, and presents, and....and....cake!” he smiled wide, humming happily to himself as Techno offered a tight smile, the feeling only getting worse. “When is your birfday, Techy?” Will asked curiously, as Phil came back with a stack of chipped mismatched plates, and a small utensil to cut the cake with. “Yeah, actually, Tech, when /is/ your birthday? I havent seen you celebrate...” Phil chimed in, seemingly confused when Techno slumped, shaking his head a little.

“I...i,uh, don’t have one?” Techno whispered, flinching as Tommy yelled “What!” at full volume. “Everyone has birfday.” Wilbur seemed confused, especially as Techno shook his head. “Not me. I don’t know when mine is. My family never told me.” He continued, eyes flicking to Phil, who was frozen in panic-stricken thought. Wilbur nodded quietly for a moment, then leaning over a dozing Tubbo towards the cake, and smeared his finger in the icing, rubbing out his name from it, leaning back grinning with his icing coated finger in his mouth. “There. It can be today.” he spoke as if it was that easy, Techno gaping at how kind the gesture had been, his mind not caught up enough to protest, not even as Will pulled the locket from around his neck, and put it round his brother’s. “Happy birfday, Techy, from your family.”

[greekgeek21]

Percy Jackson & The Avengers: Convergence - there is a fight scene included

I am not dead, just extremely busy. My summer lacrosse season just ended, so hopefully I get some inspiration to write some new chapters. In the meantime, I hope this will tide you over for some time.

Keep in mind, this was written weeks ago, so I am not in the mood to answer any weirdly specific questions about my artistic choices. In other words, if you don't like it, you don't have to read it! I know, it's a truly monumental realization.

For my kind & loyal readers, don't forget to comment, like, and follow!

- your author

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Avengers or PJO!

Ω ♆ Ω

By the grace of the gods, the group managed to pass the sirens without an issue. It seemed like the mortals had finally accepted that it was in their best interest to listen to the Seven. So, as soon as Percy warned everyone to fill their ears with wax, they filled their ears with wax. Of course there were a few complaints, but that was expected. Nobody was perfect (no matter what Narcissus insists).

From there on out, the nerves were building. Percy had informed the team that their next stop would be Polyphemus' island, and everybody, mortal and demigod alike, knew what that place was. It was where the most infamous cyclops lived, but most importantly, it was where Annabeth was being held, if Percy's father was to be trusted.

Since it would still be another two hours or so, according to the sea expert, until they reached the island, the group decided to try resting. Some tried to nap, while others sharpened their weapons or hung out on the deck. It was futile, but they were trying to prepare themselves for a situation that they had never before encountered, not even Percy.

It was safe to say that everyone was scared shitless.

Ω ♆ Ω

Leo had decided to go downstairs and tinker with some stuff from his belt as a distraction from their impending doom. It was working too! He was in his own little world that only machines could enter. That is, until Tony Stark walked up to him.

"Whatcha doing, kid?" he asked, peering over Leo's shoulder to catch a glimpse at the boy's creation.

"I'm making a mini automaton to help us find Annabeth when we get to the island," was the answer.

Taking a closer look, Tony started to see it. It was a very small machine, but if you looked closely, it was clear that it was made of metal. The automaton was about the size of a quarter, and looked like a celestial bronze spider. Leo was currently adding the last two legs to it when Tony walked up.

When Leo looked up, he held up his creation with a proud smile. "This baby can be our spy. It's eyes are tiny cameras, and it's made almost completely of celestial bronze. We can send this in, and then know where Annabeth is before we storm the place."

Tony nodded, "Yeah... Pretty good idea, kid."

And ok, so Leo was freaking out a little bit on the inside because one of his idols had just complimented his work. But on the outside, he just smiled a little wider.

"You haven't even seen the best part. You've gotta see it after I turn it on. I added stealth-mode so nobody should even be able to know it's there," Leo said, grabbing the spider and flipping it over to press a button.

As soon as he had, the spider flipped itself over in his hand and started crawling up his arm. Tony was a little creeped out, but it was blocked by the fascination for this new kind of science the demigods had. The spider should have to be controlled by a human, but it was moving like it was almost...thinking on its own. There was no way it had an AI, but that was the only solution his mortal brain could come up with.

"Is it an AI?" he asked.

"Nope. It's a greek automaton. They don't need AIs. I programmed it to listen to a few simple commands when needed, but if we don't order it around, it'll just stick around me waiting for orders. Pretty cool, right?"

"Awesome," Tony whispered, in awe of how smart this seventeen year old kid was.

"Thanks. I think I finished it just in time because I heard Percy calling us back upstairs," Leo said. Before he had even finished he was walking towards the deck, not a care in the world for the metal spider crawling around on him.

"Oh, I'm definitely becoming friends with this kid," Tony muttered to himself before following Leo.

Ω ♆ Ω

"Did you get it done, Leo?" Percy asked as soon as he had seen him.

"Yep. Here it is." Leo held up the automaton-spider.

Percy smirked. "Oh, Annabeth's gonna love that."

Leo shrugged, acting clueless. "I have no idea what you're talking about. The spider was just the first thing I could come up with."

"Sure it was," Piper snorted.

Leo fake-gasped. "Beauty Queen! How could you ever think I would lie?! I would never!"

Clint whispered to Natasha, "The kids clearly have a strong bond that only comes from fighting for their lives with each other."

Frank turned to them, surprising the spies that he had heard them, "No shit, Sherlock."

Before anything else could be said, Percy reclaimed the entire group's attention. "If you look to the right, you can see Polyphemus' island. We're going to dock on the south side of the island because that is the only way to get on without climbing a cliff and facing carnivorous sheep. Hazel should be able to disguise the ship until we invade the base, so don't worry about being seen. Leo will send in his spider to check things out and then we'll follow after we know where Annabeth is. Everybody got that?"

At the noises of affirmation, Percy nodded. "Good. Suit up if you're not already."

Of course, Tony had to break the calm solemnity by saying, "Cap, I thought that was your line?"

Everybody collectively rolled their eyes.

Ω ♆ Ω

After they docked, Leo released his spider with specific orders to find Annabeth Chase while staying hidden. That was working until Polyphemus' stupid super-senses could smell the celestial bronze. Leo hadn't known that a blind cyclops would be able to smell metal, but you learn something new everyday, right?

The spider lasted all of five minutes in the cave before Polyphemus smelled it and crushed it under his giant smelly foot. Percy had thought that the cyclops would take longer to reform, but when had he ever been that lucky? Something that completely baffled him was how the mortals got him to not eat them. The dude had been pretty desperate for food the last time Percy had run into him, so how had the weird boss guy gotten him to hold off?

The only thing he could think of for them to feed him would be...nope! He's not going there right now.

The last thing the spider had transmitted to the group was a picture of a mortal holding a gun to Annabeth's head while she was gagged and chained. It made his blood boil.

"I'm going to kill them," He growled, starting to get off the boat and storm the place.

Jason stepped in front of him before he could, "Easy, Perce. You don't know what you're walking into. They want you to go in half-cocked, so we can't give them that. You know Annabeth can handle herself, so just take a breath and we'll figure out a plan."

Percy took a shaky breath, but it did nothing to cool his anger.

"Jace, if you don't step out of my way in the next two seconds, I will be forced to move you, and trust me, you don't want me to do that."

The son of Jupiter stood his ground, "I'm not moving. I know you Percy. Hurting me would go against your fatal flaw. I'm your best friend; your family. I know you would never intentionally hurt me."

Jason glanced over at the rest of the group, who hadn't dared to move if it upset Percy even more. The guy was a ticking time bomb, and they needed to defuse it before it went off and destroyed any chance of getting Annabeth back safely.

Percy almost looked in pain as he spoke his next words, "Jason, I love you. You're my cousin, but Annabeth is my everything. I will hurt you to get to her."

Jason sighed, expecting that answer. "Then at least let us come with you on your suicide mission. I'm not letting you die without me."

"Fine, but hurry up. I'm leaving now," and Percy shoved past Jason and started the trek up to Polyphemus' cave.

Jason turned to the others, who were all staring after Percy with shocked expressions. "Well you heard him! Move your asses!"

That seemed to startle them awake. Everyone but Bruce started moving.

Ω ♆ Ω

By the time the team had been able to catch up to Percy's fast pace, he had already reached the nearest entrance to the cave. It was a dark, narrow path that had walls of rock on either side reaching up for hundreds of feet.

"This is the part in the horror movies where I start screaming at the tv to not go in there and they still go in there," Piper whispered.

They were all just staring at the darkness, and it was getting awkward. For someone who was so hasty to get to Annabeth, Percy was sure taking a long time to get there.

"Are we gonna go in or..." Tony said.

Percy sighed. "Yeah. We're going in. Just don't separate from the group."

He led the way into the cave with Steve right behind him. Percy appreciated having someone else who could take some of the responsibility off his shoulders. Almost his entire time in the godly world, he had been expected to be the leader because of his father, and he had stepped up, but that doesn't mean it didn't weigh on him. Annabeth was the only one who had been able to help him with the stress, and without her, he was losing it. He had already been barely hanging onto his control over his powers, but now without her, what he was doing could barely be called control. It was more like holding back a rampaging bull with a string.

Ten minutes later, they found themselves hiding behind the wall that led to the room where the gang was waiting. Just as the spider had shown them, Annabeth was kneeling under the gang leader's feet while he held a gun to her head.

She looked murderous, so at least something was still normal in the world.

Steve poked his head around and gave a quick scan of the room before turning back to them, "Ok so we've got at least ten humans, with five monsters. One of the monsters is as tall as a building so I think he's the largest threat. Tony, Clint, Nat, and I will deal with the humans if you guys handle the monsters. The main priority is getting Annabeth to safety. Percy, that's your job."

Saying that last bit was just to clarify for everyone else, though they looked like they didn't need to hear it. Percy had a determined look on his face, one that said he wasn't going to allow anyone else to have his assignment.

"You got it, boss," Tony remarked. "Do you just want to storm in there?"

Before he could get an answer, Percy charged into the room, leaving his friends entirely unshocked, but the Avengers were looking a little mad.

"Don't worry, plans aren't really his thing. Even if we do make them, they never go our way. It's better to go with the flow when fighting with Percy," Hazel reassured, and then turned to follow her godly cousin. The rest of the Seven followed, leaving the Avengers to just stare at each other in confusion.

"I like their style," Tony said before flying into the room.

Natasha sighed. "I'm really starting to regret meeting these kids."

Clint smirked at her before leaving, closely followed by Steve and the Black Widow herself. For all three of them, everything about this mission was against their nature, but there wasn't much they could do about it. They were in unknown territory with a group of newly-allied teens and no backup. It was a shitshow before they had even left.

Ω ♆ Ω

Frank was fighting a dracaena, and it was making it super annoying. The thing would not stop talking about grocery stores. It was quite distracting when trying to kill it.

"Seriously! Can you believe how nobody can see how bad those chains are?!" it exclaimed.

Frank sighed, ready for it to be over. Whenever he would try to stab it, it would just slither away right at the last second, all the while continuing to complain.

He decided to use his shapeshifting abilities to catch the thing off-guard. In reality, he could probably deal with it in seconds, but when he really used his inner son of Mars, it drained him. He needed to save his strength if he was going to fight Polyphemus.

Speaking of, so far, the cyclops had stayed out of the fighting. He was just sitting on his throne made of rock, picking at his teeth with what Frank really hoped wasn't a human bone.

Frank changed into a squirrel for a second, climbing up onto the back of the dracaena with the animal's speed and before the monster could react, he changed back into a human and stabbed it through the back with his spear.

"Huh. I guess you can shut up," he remarked as the monster turned into dust.

After, Frank turned to help Hazel take down an empousa. She had already defeated four before that, so it was a pretty easy fight. He had been keeping an eye on her throughout his fight. Sure, he trusted she could take care of herself, but it was also his job to watch her back.

"Thanks," Hazel told him with a quick peck on the cheek after they finished.

Believe it or not, that kiss on the cheek was a major improvement. It had been a real adjustment for Hazel to learn how couples expressed affection nowadays, and it had taken even longer to start showing it herself. It helped that Frank preferred words over touch, too.

"No problem."

Ω ♆ Ω

"Get some, térata!" Leo screamed, running up to the manticore and sending giant, continuous blasts of fire at it.

He had heard of Dr. Thorn from Nico, Percy, and Annabeth before, and had somehow retained the knowledge that it was extremely durable on the outside. That meant that he had to think smart in order to beat it.

So far, Leo was distracting it and holding it off with his fire while he thought of a plan. However, he could only hold it off for so long. He would eventually tire out.

Come on, Leo, THINK!

Then it hit him.

It was so simple! He had been told the story of how the Nemean lion was defeated at Camp. Now usually, he would totally ignore any schooling he was given, but the stuff they were taught at Camp was much more interesting than algebra. So yeah, he remembered some stuff.

So, he decided that his best shot at beating Dr. Thorn was landing a large enough hit inside of him. That meant he had to figure out a way to get him to open his mouth. That wasn't really the hard part, though. The hard part was figuring out how to not die when he had to get closer to the monster.

"Estoy jodido..." he muttered before taking a step forward, never once stopping his assault on the beast.

The Manticore didn't seem to be moving back from the intensity, but rather reveling in the fact that he hadn't gained one burn from the fight. He was just waiting out Leo.

That was not a fun revelation for the son of Hephaestus to have.

And that was when the thorns started attacking him. He should've been expecting it, really. The guy had a tail of poisonous thorns and he hadn't used it yet? Something should've registered in his mind. But that was past-Leo's mistake. Present-Leo had to deal with the super tall, scary, poisonous, and royally pissed-off greek monster in front of him.

Dr. Thorn let out a war cry and swung his tail around, releasing a line of spikes at Leo, who managed to just barely duck out of the way. He was not keen on becoming swiss cheese!

"Ok. It's time to end this." Leo sighed in annoyance, jumping back up and charging.

He swung his battle hammer up and lit it on fire, deciding that he might as well stick with the common theme of stupid ideas. He managed to keep dodging attacks all the way up until he was within ten feet of the manticore. Then, he threw his weapon at the monster, praying to Apollo for good aim. He had fixed the sun chariot plenty of times, so the god had to owe him at least one favor.

Once again, Leo's stupid demigod luck kicked in and the hammer somehow embedded itself in the monster's mouth, which had been opened in a prideful roar. Honestly, the son of Hephaestus didn't know HOW he did it, just that it worked.

With the distraction of having a flaming hammer in his mouth, Dr. Thorn didn't see Leo running up with his arms raised and prepared to fire. By the time he did, it was too late because long blasts of fire were flying straight towards his open mouth.

The monster was able to mutter a silent curse before he disintegrated into dust, once again sent to Tartarus.

"Take that, bitch."

Ω ♆ Ω

Piper was absolutely sure the Fates were laughing at her. They had to be. There was no way that she just happened to be stuck with the two empousa. It didn't help that Jason was struggling to not drool over the girls. She just had to keep chanting in her head that the monsters were using their charm powers on him, and he was not actually attracted to the disgusting things.

After the two monsters tried to both swipe at her at the same time, she growled and shouted, "Jason! Get your head in the game and come help me!"

He had been blinking and shaking his head for the past two minutes and it was getting quite frustrating to have these donkey-cyborg-vampires ganging up on her with no back-up. Once this was over, she was going to make Jason work to get back in her good graces.

With just a little bit of her charmspeak added into her order, Jason was finally able to break free from the empousai's spell. He quickly willed his gladius to be a javelin and launched it through one of the monsters, which made it explode into a shower of golden dust. A traitorous part of Piper's brain insisted on calling that move hot, but she was able to school her expression back into a scowl before her boyfriend could notice.

The other empousa let out a shriek and said, "You MONSTERS! That was my sister! I'll make you pay for that!"

They only had a second to appreciate the irony before she launched herself at them with even more fervor than before, fueled by the rage of losing her "sister."

Jason couldn't help but notice how she was wearing a cheerleading costume. It was very ripped and destroyed, but it was clearly a cheerleading uniform. And as he was deflecting her claws, the ADHD part of his brain realized that the logo on the uniform was for Goode High School, Percy's old school. He almost wanted to laugh when he remembered the story of Kelli, an empousa acting as a cheerleader during Percy's freshman orientation. Percy had always said the monster had a nasty habit of coming back quickly, but Jason had just thought it was an exaggeration. But no, he and Piper were really fighting Kelli, one of Percy's recurring monsters.

It would be hilarious later, truly. But for now, he had to actually kill the thing.

Kelli had backed off when she realized that attacking out of rage wasn't going to work against two experienced demigods, and that also gave Jason and Piper a chance to make a plan themselves.

"Got any ideas?" he asked Piper.

She grinned with a terrifying amount of murderous glee. "I thought you'd never ask."

And then she told him her plan, which was essentially just using him as bait while she got to do all the killing. The prideful Roman part of him wanted to insist on him killing it, but he managed to reign that in when he saw the look on Piper's face. She was not asking, she was telling. Who was he to say no, especially after he hadn't been able to fully resist the empousai's charm?

A scary thought told him he was turning into Percy. He brushed that off for later nightmares.

"Come get me, bloodsucker!" He shouted, raising his arms up in a taunting manner. If he was acting like Percy, might as well go all the way right?

With yet another shriek, Kelli stormed at Jason, completely disregarding the daughter of Aphrodite that was stepping back and preparing to literally stab the monster in the back with her dagger.

Sometimes Jason wonders how a creature could be so stupid. Their plan was so obvious!

It went off without a hitch, technically. Piper let the empousa get a little too close for comfort before she killed it, but he trusted her to get the job done and she came through. Kelli had been prepped and ready to bite into his neck right before she exploded into dust.

It was one Hades of a trust exercise, that's for sure.

"Please don't let it get that close next time, Pipes," he breathed out while he put away Juno's Gladius.

Piper gave him a quick peck on the lips, "Not a chance, Superman."

Ω ♆ Ω

Considering the circumstances, the Avengers weren't doing half-bad. They were actually fairing pretty well. They knew how to deal with humans, so their job wasn't that hard. The only difficulty was that there were four of them and ten of the bad guys. They were sorely outnumbered.

Currently, Steve was fighting two at once, with a third opponent already knocked out a few feet away. He was blocking one with his shield while punching the other in the face. He then switched roles, instead kicking the first attacker and driving his shield into the gut of the second. The one he gutted gasped and fell to the ground, and was knocked unconscious was a simple hit to the temple. While he was distracted with taking down his partner, the still-conscious bad guy recovered from the kick and was able to land a hit to the back of Steve's head. Clearly, the fighter had been prepared to have achieved some form of disorientation from the Captain, but all he got was a pissed-off Avenger.

"That tickled."

It took less than five seconds for Steve to take him down after that.

Natasha also started with three adversaries. Key word being 'started.' It had taken barely any time to take down the first two. And all she had to do for the third was a scissor kick and hold until he passed out. She had just finished doing that when a call from Clint got her attention.

"Nat!" he shouted.

She turned on instinct and threw a throwing knife at the person running up behind her straight into their chest. They stopped with shocked features before falling to the ground in a heap, dead weight pushing the knife even further in and no doubt killing them faster.

"Getting rusty, Clint?" she teased, throwing a look over at her friend.

"No," he defended. "I'm just making sure you're not getting rusty!"

The archer hadn't realised one of his two attackers had sneaked off to go after the "bigger threat." He would never let Nat know he thought she was the bigger threat, though. That would be fueling an ego he knew was somewhere deep down in her.

Tony had been given two people to fight as well, and he was doing pretty well. He had the obvious advantage of being in the air, so all the gang members he was fighting could do was try to shoot at him with their guns, and his armor was designed to withstand a nuclear bomb. Bullets weren't gonna do much damage.

"Guys, seriously, we should just talk this out. We both KNOW I'm going to be knocking you both out in five seconds, so why don't you surrender instead? It'll be so much easier for the both of us!" he said, raising his hands and readying his repulsors.

As expected, the bad guys didn't show any sign of slowing down their useless attack on him. With a roll of his eyes and an obnoxious sigh, Iron Man shot them both in the chest, knocking them out cold.

"That felt too easy. Did that feel too easy to you?" He asked the other Avengers as they gathered back together.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I agree with Tony," Natasha said, "That fight was too good to be true."

Now that the truth had been revealed to them, the Avengers could blame what happened next on the Fates.

Ω ♆ Ω

There it is! I hope you liked it

other chapters :)

[hiswhiteknight]

Unbelievably Outlandish– Part 1

Summary:  Before starting down a new crossroads, the Reader goes onto an adventure of literary traveling. Suddenly tossed into an unbelievable story that has swept the world, The Outlander Series itself. How will a twenty first century woman survive?

Note: I own no characters, except reader, clearly this is based off the lovely book series Outlander by Diana Gabaldon and tv show. This follows more the tv show, but it’s far from accurate. I’m going to try to get better with using less proper English, but who knows maybe I’ll get into Scottish slang.

Pairing: Jamie Fraser x Female Reader

Words: 1900

Warning: Angst, playfulness, cursing, slow start

It has been a long time coming, you haven’t been on a real vacation since you graduated high school. You joined the Marines immediately, went into training and university. With you, it was always work, work, work. For you, it made sense since your brother was a Navy Seal and you both didn’t really have family. And you didn’t stay anywhere long enough to make super close friends to vacation with. But this trip, this was for you and only you.

               You got your degrees in psychology, battle strategies, and world cultures, but your true love was literature. You made it this far living a pretty isolated life because of your brother and your books. You generally just loved to read, so after leaving the Marines, before you started to find your new pathway you said you were going to take this vacation around Europe stopping in different places described or lived in by some of your favorite authors. Jane Austen, Shakespeare, Sir Doyle, Thomas Malory, etc. And it’s been amazing seeing all these places that inspired your idols, imagining how your favorite fictional characters lived.

               And here, alas you were in Scotland. Not necessarily because one of your favorite fictional characters lived here or your favorite author grew up near here, but because of your brother.  He wanted you to explore where you both came from, he felt it would help understand life before you both lost your parents. Plus, he was a huge history buff – it was his hobby outside the Seals.

               He told you all about the battles and culture amongst the decades before us. He told you about our Irish and Scottish ancestors. He’d tell you, you can’t have a name like Y/N O’Mulligain and not think of the Irish.

               There was this nearby village you were passing through. An author named Diana Gabaldon wrote a romance novel based on this rock formation. Your old college roommate wrote a thesis paper about historically accurate romance novels and pop culture. You thought, what the hell, since your here minus well check it out.

               It was strange at first, wondering through this supposed magical place. People clearly flocked here for Outlander’s popularity. You more enjoyed watching the people. You sat against a tree, pulled out a sandwich from your bag, and watched the middle age woman touch these rocks like they were the rock hard abs of a character from Outlander. It was quite amusing. You liked to think your mother would be doing the same thing if she were still alive.

               “You must not be a fan, girly,” you look up to an older woman, clearly Scottish from her accent.

               Shaking your head, standing up to shake her hand, “Is it that obvious,” you laugh, “I’m Y/N. Just a tourist, watching other tourist. That obvious hugh?”

               “Mary, deary,” she grinned answering you with her name while look up at you. You were about five three, but this woman had to be four feet something tall because she was tiny, “Just by the way you’re gazing all around, a girl looking for her own adventure, not through someone else’s eyes or story, but of your own.”

               “You get all that from just looking at me,” you laughed, looking at her curiously. You loved people like this, authentic and wily – it was usually the case with old people.

               “It’s the glimmer in your eye,” she gripped your chin softly, shaking it.

               You laughed, smiling down at her, “May I ask you a question? Do you believe the tales of this place? I know the Scottish culture has a lot of tall tales and superstitions, but a story like that?”

               “Aaa,” she nodded her head, “A skeptic,” she nodded, “These people wandering about, they don’t really believe in the tale. But I believe in the magic of this place, it just doesn’t work from anyone. It’s for the special.”

               Watching her with amusement and skepticism, you laugh nodding your head, “I hope I didn’t offend you with my question.”

               “No, of course not dear – though I believe in the magic of this place. I mostly come to watch these woman fawning over these rocks. I like to bet on which woman will kiss one of those moldy old things.” You laughed so loud, she grinned up at you, “I am about to go home to my hunny Wallace, but you stay here for me? Those three woman over there,” you looked in the direction she was pointing, “I believe they are each going to lick one of these things.”

               Laughing again, you nodded, “I’ll keep a close eye on them. It was an absolute pleasure, ma’am,” she gripped your hand tightly for a second before releasing.

               You sat back, glancing at those women laughing, “And dear,” you look back up to her, “Most people will be leaving to their beds or finding a pub, but you should stay. While the sun is setting – this place will give you the most magical sights.”

               She truly intrigued you, “Of course ma’am, thank you again.”

               “Enjoy your adventure lass,” she grinned once more, walking off down the path.

                 She was right, people started to trickle out. Husbands getting annoyed or bored, ladies feeling exhausted, or people just fearsome of loss of light – they just left group by group. You were left alone eventually, starring at the sun sinking into the horizon. She was right again, Scotland was magical with sights. You took a mental picture of this moment – the smooth silence, the color the sky made, and just being one with this experience. Your life was never slow, silent, or peaceful. You had always lived in the rush of things. But here, you sat taking in this moment. You felt like you could stay in this moment forever.

               The sun eventually went down and you were met with near darkness – which exception of the full moon. You collected your things and got ready to leave. And it dawned on you – you came all this way and have never even touched these rocks. The book aside, these rocks have had legends and tales for centuries. You should respect the stories and culture. With one touch, maybe you’ll feel the stories, tales, and people that touched it before you.

               It felt odd to reach out and touch the stone. It was cool and surprising smooth. You laughed at the thought of all the tongues that touched this exact spot. And with a single breathe, everything grew black and all the air punched out of you.

               Next thing you felt was the slam of the ground and your oxygen returning to your lungs. The sun from the tree burned your eyes. And you heard it, gun shots. You thought you were having another Post-Traumatic Stress attack, but the second bang brought you to reality. And you started to run, your bag still on your back, darting through the trees. You heard shouts, but you were not taking the chance. Being in the military, you didn’t stand still to figure it out.

               Someone gripped your arm as you ran past them, pointing a sword right in your face, “Are you for real,” I yell at them.  

He had a musket pointing directly in your face. You stopped breathing; he was dressed like a 18th century soldier. Thoughts sped in your mind, could this be a reenactment? Could this be a sick joke? The bullet sounds shook you out of your thoughts, the man was about to speak. You grabbed his musket, yanking it towards your body. The gun went off as his head smashed into yours. He groaned, tripping backwards, and smashing against a tree. The light from the headbutt blasted on in your head.

The light started to blind through, and the forest became vivid again. The sound of bullet fire caused you jump out of it and look at the man unconscious before you. You had to be dreaming, everything was so real. The sound, the smell, the world around you. Where and when were you exactly? You got drug out of your thoughts as a bullet graved your arm. You gasped in pain and your body took flight again. On the run again, you slide down an embankment, meeting eye to eye with another redcoat.

               You gasped, “Holy hell,” you whispered looking at the man, “Forgive me,” you said out loud, as the man watched you, straightening up. You saw his insignia, “Captain?”

               “Jonathan Randall, Esquire – Eighth Dragoon of your majesty’s army, mistress,” he answered.

               Something inside you reminisced, that name was familiar. Watching him closely, as he made his micromovements - he was also watching you, like some predator to prey, “I seem to be in the wrong time, wrong place,” you awkwardly laughed.

               “It does seem that,” he paused to see if you’d introduce yourself.

               “I had someone taking me to some distant family and they tried to attack and rob me,” you tried to play the damsel in distress, “My brother always told me I was too trusting.”

               “Yes mistress, women are naïve sheep,” he tiptoed towards you, his hand resting on his sword, “Your accent,” he nodded towards you. You slowly started taking steps back, “I’m unfamiliar with it.”

               He didn’t believe you, clearly you were off your game. Maybe it’s because the blast you took a few minutes ago getting you to this point. It could be the fact that this was surreal, “I’m grew up in the colonies,” you shrugged it off, you could only imagine how far away your accent was to actually existing, “But my brother sent me to our parent’s home country after their passing.”

               You forgot the first rule of lying, keep it short with no unneeded details. His uniform was familiar, the military and your brother trained you well. You had inclined the year and it was clear the woods of Scotland were not safe with the Redcoats. This man was an enemy, not a gentleman of the era you’ve heard and learned so much about. You had to get away, find safety, and figure out what exactly is going on.

               You knew self-defense, hell you were trained well at the art of combat, but this man had weapons and the only thing you had was a backpack and no adequate footwear for a run in the woods, “You don’t dress like a lady,” he motioned towards your clothes. You stop breathing at this, “In fact, only traitorous women wear clothes such as this,” your back was against the hill behind you. His breath was on you. He gripped your neck tightly, “There is only one way to deal with a woman like yourself,” he went for his buckle.

               Your brother drilled into you about protection during moments like this. He trained you on what to do, it was natural. Headbutt to the nose, hike up of the knee, a tool – in your case a rock – to the head. And soon you were breathing heavily and looking at the Captain unconscious on the ground.

               The sound of the Redcoats was not far off, “Druid,” you heard. You were surprised that someone could sneak so close and not make any noise. This Scottish looking fellow reached out his hands, “Come now,” he said. Your only instinct was to take it for now. This man pulled you behind a tree.

               “What year is it,” you whispered to him.

               “1743,” he mumbled, trying to shush me, taking the time to give you a questionable look.

               “Pinch me,” you were hoping this to be a dream. It was a final test of your predicament. He looked at you strangely before helping with your request. He did, and you felt it and suddenly everything went black.

PART 2

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Devotional Hours Within the Bible

by J.R. Miller

The Suffering Savior (Isaiah 53)

One picked up an old book - and found it fragrant. The secret was that a sweet flower had been put in among the leaves by someone, and its fragrance had permeated the whole volume. So the fragrance of Jesus has perfumed the Bible from beginning to end. We do not find the name Jesus until we reach the beginning of the New Testament - but the sweetness of the name is everywhere. We find it even in the earliest pages of the Old Testament. No sooner were the gates of Eden closed on our first parents - than the gospel was given. True, the language was dim, not like the clear sentences of the Gospels; yet the promise is there in Eden - as the bud of a very lovely flower which, by and by, opens out under the increasing warmth of progressing revelation; until in the later prophets, especially in Isaiah, it appears in rare beauty.

No other chapter in the Old Testament has been a greater revealer of Christ, than has the fifty-third of Isaiah. Its words are almost as familiar as those of the Twenty-third Psalm. They are repeated at Communion services in thousands of churches, and are read in secret by countless devout believers, who love to sit in the shadow of the cross.

The best that can be done in brief space with the fifty-third chapter, is merely to indicate a few of its truths. The first verse has a tone of discouragement. "Who has believed our message?" That has always been the discouragement of the bearers of spiritual good tidings. If news comes that gold has been discovered in some far-away place, people believe it and flock by thousands to the spot. But when God's messengers deliver their messages, although they tell of the most glorious things, people are slow to believe.

The second verse reminds us that Christ's earthly beginnings were unpromising. "He grew up before Him as a tender plant, and as a root out of a dry ground." These figures are striking - a tender plant shooting up from a dry stem which seems dead, a root growing in a desert place. The field was not promising. But the root was not dry or dead - but living, and it grew into rich beauty. It became a great tree whose branches reach now over all the earth, with cool shade in which the weary rest, and rich fruits for men's hunger.

The description goes on. "He was despised, and rejected by men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief." The saddest thing about the life of Christ - was that men despised and rejected Him. He came with a great love in His heart. He came to do men good, and save them, to draw them away from their sins, to make them love God, to lead them to heaven. He came in love - and yet men despised and rejected Him. It is the same still.

Men do not like to look upon suffering. They can see no beauty in it. Pain is ugly to the human sense. Anciently it was thought that sickness was a mark of divine disfavor. The weak were looked at with scorn. Even yet we have not learned to see blessing hidden in suffering. The Servant of the Lord came in weakness, and He was rejected. He came to the needy and the sinful, with treasures of life and glory, which He offered to all. But men paid no heed to His knocking and His calls, and He had to pass on with His blessings.

We learn the object of the sufferings of Christ. The ancients thought that when a man suffered he was being punished for sin. We have this thought here in the words, "We did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted." That is the way Job's friends judged him. But here it is taught, that not for His own sin - but for ours, was the Messiah suffering. "Surely He has borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows."

A Japanese Christian illustrated what Jesus did for sinners, by this story: A mother was crossing a great prairie with her baby in her arms. She saw flames coming in the dry grass. She could not escape by flight, so swiftly were the fiery billows rolling on towards her. So with her hands she speedily dug a hole in the soft ground, laid her baby in it, and then covered it with her own body. She was burned to death in the wave of fire that rolled over her - but the child was safe, unhurt. The Christian explained, "Just so did give Christ Himself - to save us."

We have a picture, also, of those whom Jesus seeks to save. "All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and Jehovah has laid on Him the iniquity of us all." This verse tells us that all are sinners. Of course, we all believe this, or admit it in a general way. But do we really admit it as a close, personal matter? "Like sheep!" Sheep are miserably foolish. They are always straying away, going wherever they can find a tuft of grass to nibble at, until at last they are far from the fold and do not know how to find the way back again. Like sheep, we have all gone astray. Every one has turned to his own way instead of going in God's way, the way of truth and holiness.

The Servant of the Lord was a silent sufferer. It is not common for men to remain silent in pain. But here it is said: "He was oppressed - yet when He was afflicted, He opened not His mouth; as a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and as a sheep that before its shearers is silent - so He opened not His mouth." One of the highest qualities in him who is called to suffer - is silence in endurance.

Another quality in the suffering of the Servant of the Lord, is its injustice. "By oppression and judgment He was taken away, and as for His generation, who among them considered that He was cut off out of the land of the living for the transgression of My people to whom the stroke was due?" The forms of law were not observed. "By a forced and tyrannous judgment He was taken." Then they gave Him a convict's grave. They made His grave with the wicked, although He had done no violence, neither was deceit in His mouth.

Such perversion of justice seems so terrible, that men might ask, "Where is God, that this cruel wrong is permitted?" But the answer is, "It pleased Jehovah to bruise Him!" In the Hebrew, the word has not the harshness it seems to have in the English. God did not delight in the bruising - but His purpose was in it. "Yet it pleased Jehovah to bruise Him; He has put Him to grief: when You shall make His soul an offering for sin - He shall see His seed, He shall prolong His days, and the pleasure of Jehovah shall prosper in His hand."

Then we have a vision of the glorious outcome of the sufferings of the Messiah. "He shall see of the travail of His soul - and shall be satisfied ." He is not sorry now that He endured the cross and all its shame. He does not regret His sufferings and sacrifices on the earth. The blessings which have come from His humiliation, have more than satisfied Him. He sees countless millions of souls saved, which must have perished forever, if He had not gone to the cross to redeem them. The life of the Son of God seemed a tremendous price to pay for the ransom of the lost - but it will appear in the end that the price was not too great. We do not know the worth of human souls, nor can we begin to estimate it until we try to understand how much Christ paid to redeem us.

You say that a certain professed Christian is a very unworthy one, with scarcely a line of spiritual beauty in him. "Christ will never have any comfort from him," you say. "He will never make a saint." "But wait!" says the patient Master. "My work on this man - is not yet finished. He is very imperfect now, and I am not satisfied with him. But wait until My work on his life has been completed. By and by he shall wear the full image of My face, and I shall be satisfied as I see in him - the blessed prints of all My sorrows and My love."

[a-story-worth-writing]

Photography - Short Ralph Fanfiction

Part one

You were a better cook than he would have guessed; the snacks you brought for your picnic were light and flavorful, and he was bewildered when you offered to share with him. The light breeze allowed for a pleasant coolness in the shade, while the small pond lapped gently against its banks. The ambiance of the forest was better than any restaurant, and Ralph relaxed watching the sun dance between the leaves above.

He gathered enough courage to ask you a few questions about your farm, and soon the two of you were chatting. He found it was easiest to keep asking you questions, as you could draw out the question into a small story, one hand animating your words while your eyes seemed to sparkle in the gentle light. “I found a wild sheep on my farm. Isn’t that bizarre? It was absolutely covered in wool so it had obviously been on its own for a while, but Bridget hadn’t lost one and she didn’t know anyone else who owned sheep around here.” 

“I’ve never seen a wild sheep around here. Mountain goats, maybe, but definitely not sheep, and not something you could just keep as a pet.” He scratched his chin. “It could have escaped from one of the farms further south. There’s a small city that way, further inland.”

“I hadn’t heard of another city. I thought we were pretty isolated out here.”

“Yeah, it’s not terribly far, but there’s no way for vehicles to make the drive, just a small footpath through the mountains. I went to high school there.” You hummed appreciatively, but didn’t say anything further. That disappointed him a little; he liked talking to you. Emboldened by the words he’d already said, he asked, "Why do you always come to the forest? I don't mind, but… I figured your farmland would have enough trees and fauna to… you know, you'd be tired of it by now."

"Oh, I come here to take pictures." You said with a smile, pulling a small camera out from under your shirt. You turned the camera around and leaned towards him, he barely recognized what you were doing before you took the picture. Had he even smiled? The small polaroid camera spit out a black photo, which you took gingerly.

To his surprise, you didn’t move back to where you were sitting before, and your knees gently bumped his as you settled in. “Were you a photographer then? Back in the city, I mean?”

"That's… well, it's what I always wanted to do." He watched you turn the camera over in your hands, sentimentally, as your smile faded into a more sorrowful memory. "But it's hard to get work in the city if you don't have a studio already. There's only so many nice places to take pictures outside, and the generic shots of the city don't sell very well. I never made enough money to live off of."

“So you moved here to find a new path?” He remembered the feeling of having a dream, and realizing it could never be. It was one of the worst feelings he could remember, listless and hopeless, just waiting for… something. 

“Yeah, something like that.” 

He wasn’t sure what to say. Any words of encouragement he could give sounded fake, even in his own head. Instead, he put an arm around your shoulders, gently pulling the two of you together. You leaned into him, settling between him and the tree, and though the sad look on your face didn’t go away, he felt the tension in your shoulders drop. 

He relaxed as much as he could into the moment, you resting at his side, his arm comfortably hanging over your shoulder. He didn’t have the words to set your mind at ease, but he could keep you company while you sorted it out. He hoped that was enough. 

[ladyanput]

A Christmas salt fic, Santa and Krampus team up to teach a certain class, including a teacher, the consequences of their actions.

Ohhh, a perfect little seasonal story

---

Santa smiled as he set the colourful presents under the small tree in Marinette's room, before smiling down at the sleeping teen, with the little Tikki resting by her head. He knew more than anyone, she deserved something nice this Christmas for all she had done for Paris, for the world. Yes, she attacked him that one time, but he knew her intentions were good at heart.

"She cried herself to sleep."

Santa found himself tensing, then turned to face the massive form of Krampus, with his long dark, shaggy fur covering his body, and the horns curbed ontop of his head, to the sharp teeth filling his twisted mouth. The demonic figure tilted his head and smiled.

"Quite a few children have been very naughty this year."

"You can't kidnap them, you can't kill them or devour them." Santa said quickly, stepping in front of Krampus, a protective look on his face. "They've been naughty, yes, but I won't let you-"

"Oh, don't get your hat in bunch. I don't kidnap them, just give them a good scare." Krampus grinned, a horrible, rot filled grin that would send anyone fainting in horror. "There is only one I will truly take tonight. The source of all of this. The others are just stupid sheep, ones who I hope you like their stockings high with coal, old friend."

Santa watched in silence as the cloven hooved creature made his way up to the roof, his chains rattling and the sack on his back writhing with the children that had been the worst of the worst this year. And he made no move to stop him.

---

Christmas morning was a quiet one. The students of Miss Bustier's class had been quiet as their families opened their gifts that morning, a haunted look in their eyes.

The parents were surprised to find those children's stockings full to the brim with coal, and even a letter from Santa Claus himself, giving them a firm warning that he had been the one to keep Krampus at bay from taking them back to his home, only allowing the demon to give them a taste of what cool one day come.

Alya had burst into tears after reading that letter, her mind full of the horrifying creature carrying a whip and threatening her with his sharp teeth. He had even shown her inside of his sack and had told her what he was going to do to those children in great detail.

"And one of your classmates are going to be coming with me tonight. I shall take them away forever, because they are one of the worst, one that caused the deaths and suicides of so many."

Marinette had awoken to a fair amount of presents, Tikki having received some as well. But to her surprise, she had received a letter as well, this one from Saint Nick as well.

He went on to say that she was a lovely girl, but there were some things that could bring her down. Her affections towards Adrien Agreste were faintly troublesome, to the point of obsession. She needed to take a step back, to get to know him as a friend before becoming a lover, as he didn't want her to tip the scales and become the boy's latest stalker. She had teared up upon reading those words, but she knew they were true. So that day, after a lovely Christmas breakfast with her parents, Marinette took the schedule down, as well as most of the pictures of Adrien on her wall.

The entire class realized that it was Lila who had been taken. She never showed up, her mother had put out a missing persons the day after Christmas.

Most were in shock, believing that it was going to be either Chloé or Marinette that was going to be taken. But it seems like that was not the case, though Krampus had taken the time to cut away Chloé's golden hair and left scratches on her face. He had seen she had made no signs of improving herself, so unless she began to finally lose, she's never seem to redeem herself.

Marinette sighed as she snuggled on her bed with Tikki, texting Luka a merry Christmas. A thought entered her mind. Perhaps she should stop chasing a dream, and maybe follow something a bit more real. And who was more real that the boy who had confessed his love to her?

Soon her phone was flooded with texts begging for forgiveness from her classmates. She sighed and ignored them all, not even beginning to fathom what brought this along. Besides, she now had a lovely date to go to with Luka. Her classmates could wait until after winter break.

[mostlydysfunction]

From The Stars, Part 5

Chapter Summary: Kira talks with her dad and then makes a discovery in her barn. The Xenomorph is almost ready. 

Warnings: Talks of death and grieving as well as some non-con touching at the end. 

Author’s Note: Yeah, I have no control. I just really want to get the next part written cause that’s when things finally happen. But you do get a bit of Kira’s backstory in this one. I’m trying to keep things a little ambiguous because you’ll see later on in the story. But anyways, I hope you enjoy! 

MASTERLIST

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Kira chews on her lip as she sits across the living room from her dad. He looks good, tired and older than she remembered, but good. The last time she’d seen him he’d been storming down the driveway towards his car, not even looking back. Guilt and regret ate away at her stomach, twisting it painfully. He wasn’t even looking at her, studying the grain of the wood the coffee table was made of. He had cut that tree down himself and handmade it for her mother. Their initials were carved in the bottom. She had told him to take it with him, but he had said it belonged in that house. The house they’d built specially for them. The house they put so much work into. The house he’d rather forget was real. 

“I um...I was heading out of town for a few days and I thought I’d come by and see how you were on my way out.” Her dad finally says, breaking the awkward silence around them. “I heard about the fire...wanted to see if you were alright.” 

It had been almost a week since the explosion and he was just now checking on her. “Yeah, I’m okay. It didn’t make it this far.” 

He nods. “That’s...that’s good. We could hear it and see it all the way in town. It’s too bad, the wreck.” 

She had read that online. The cover story. An oil truck had been hit after a semi driver fell asleep at the wheel. The fire had caused the oil truck to explode. It was hard to believe as they didn’t get many semi’s in their area, but the people in this town were so desperate for something exciting to happen they’d believe anything. 

Kira nods. “It was loud, the explosion. Woke me from a dead sleep.” 

“I bet. I am glad you’re alright, though.” 

It’s silent between them for a while before her dad finally stands up, going to the wall with the photos. He looks over them all, taking in the old memories. 

“You left them up.” 

Kira nods. “Yeah. Felt weird taking them down. Empty.” 

He picks up the picture on the mantle of the three of them: her, her dad and her mother at the top of a nearby peak. Her mother had convinced them to hike it. Her being only 10, she had gotten tired halfway up and her dad had carried her the rest of the way to the top. She still remembers that day. Her mother had been so happy outside. 

“I’m glad you kept them up.” He places the picture back on the mantle. “Remember all the happy times.” 

Kira nods again, watching him as he makes his way to the kitchen. She gets up, following. He glances at the towels haphazardly thrown on the floor but thankfully doesn’t ask as he moves to the back door, looking out at the yard. 

“The garden looks good.” One of her mother’s other joys. “You’ll have to send pictures in a few weeks when it really starts to bloom.” 

“I will. I planted a lot this year.” 

He nods, looking out past the garden to the barn. “The barn looks different.” 

Kira glances out as well, looking at the barn. It did look different. She can’t quite put her finger on it, but something had changed. She hadn’t touched the barn since her mom died, so she knows it couldn’t have been her doing. 

“Yeah, I was, uh, cleaning it up a bit. Maybe set it up and get a couple of animals again. It gets...quiet out here.” 

The two sheep had been her mother’s favorite out of the animals they’d had growing up. She’d loved them almost as much as she’d loved Kira. 

Her dad nods again. “I think that’s a good idea.” He looks down at his watch. “I uh, should hit the road here. I just...wanted to make sure you’re alright.” 

“I’m okay, dad.” Kira nods. “It’s...” She chews on her lip. “I like it out here.”

“I’m glad.” He moves to the door, Kira following. “I, uh, I’ll see you later, I guess.” 

Kira nods. “Yeah. I’ll be around.” 

Kira watches him walk to his car, remembering the night he left. 

It had been a week after the funeral. Kira knew it was coming, she’d seen the way he looked at the house, seemed to just wander around like a ghost. He’d stare out the window at the half-finished garden, stand in the doorway of the bedroom staring at nothing and everything. He was lost in the constant reminders of her and he couldn’t stand it. 

It had been six years since the day that he told her he was leaving, that he couldn’t stand being around the memories, around her. She was haunting him in that house and he told her she could stay, he’d keep the property, pay for it. But he couldn’t stay. He had left her there, running from the memories of her mother, the woman he’d loved since they were children. It had been the last time he’d stepped foot in that house as he carried the last box to his car, not looking back as he drove into town, leaving her and the ghost of her mother behind. 

At least, until his unexpected visit. Things had been awkward between them since her mother’s death. She had been the glue that held the three of them together and after she died, there was nothing there to hold them anymore. Kira knew he felt guilty for leaving her there, for running. She knew it was pride that had driven him back, pride that had brought him to check on her. He hated seeming like a coward, for leaving his 20-year-old daughter to move into an apartment in town to escape the memory of his dead wife. 

Kira didn’t blame him. She’d seen how he just left himself when she died. It was like a part of his soul died with her. He had left to try to find it again, but six years and he didn’t seem any closer to fixing it. That’s what he did. He fixed things. Kira had long ago accepted that her mother was gone, that she wasn’t coming back. She missed her terribly, but all she could do was keep her memory alive while her father just wanted to forget. Everyone has their coping mechanisms. Everyone grieves differently. Kira just wished she hadn’t been so awful to her father when he left. Hadn’t said the things she’d said to him. 

******

It’s late afternoon by the time Kira can peel herself out of the chair in the living room. She’d sat and stared at the driveway for long enough. The visit from her dad had brought up too many memories, too much to try to process in one day. She had things to do, and a barn to investigate. 

She pulls on her boots and grabs a flashlight before heading out to the barn. It was far enough away from the house that the true damage to it couldn’t be seen. She hadn’t touched the barn in six years, and it certainly looked that way. She was glad for that, especially when she saw why it looked so different. 

She slides the door open, nearly dropping the flashlight. All around the inside of the barn is a hard black substance. Lining the walls, across the floor, up onto the roof. It was like something out of a science fiction movie. She takes a hesitant step forward, having to step up onto the substance. It was slightly sticky and gooey, her boots making suction noises with every step. She shines the flashlight around, the only light coming from the window high in the loft. The goo had covered the others, making it dark and unearthly inside. She sees movement out of the corner of her eye, whirling around and falling backwards as she finds herself face to face with her alien. 

She gasps in surprise, pointing the flashlight on it from her place on the ground. It hisses slightly at her, almost a sound of annoyance than anything. So this is where it disappeared during the day. It seemed it had done this in the week since it had arrived, making its own home in her barn. 

The alien stands over her before dropping down so they’re face to face. Its hands are on either side of her, trapping her between it and the sticky ground. It nudges at her shoulder, making it throb in protest. She turns slightly, holding it away from him as he goes to nudge it again. 

“Why did you bite me?” 

It hisses at her; the sound vibrating the surrounding air. It seemed so still and stagnant in the barn with the goo around her, the very air seeming to vibrate with every movement. The air ripples as the alien moves, picking her up before moving deeper into the barn, towards the back wall. It settles down so her back is against a wall of the goo, holding her. Kira huffs out a sigh, having no choice but to relax in its grip. 

“So it seems you’re not going anywhere.” The alien hisses in response. “You need a name. Something I can call you. Do you have a name?” She doesn’t get a response. “You’re not a very communicative species. Or maybe humans just aren’t smart enough to figure out how to communicate like you.” 

The alien finally hisses, moving Kira rather roughly so her back is pressed against the floor now. It’s hunched over her again, one leg on either side of hers. I guess that was enough talking for now. Kira feels trapped as the alien lifts a hand, four fingers curling around the neck of her jacket before ripping downward. The fabric tears easily, revealing her bra. The air inside the barn is cool, making goosebumps form on her skin. Her heart is pounding despite the fact she knew this was coming. She knew this would happen soon. 

The alien presses its face up against her bite mark again, making it ache and throb in response. Kira groans, attempting to get away from the pain, but the alien hisses dangerously in her face. She swallows thickly, drool starting to drip on her bare skin. The alien sits back slightly, a clawed hand reaching out towards her face. Its skin is rough as it runs its fingers over her face, feeling her. Her eyes close as it moves lower, claws pressing into her skin as it moves down her neck and onto her chest. Her breath hitches as its palm brushes over one of her breasts, causing it to pause before slowly moving lower over her stomach. 

It lets out a soft hiss as it moves over her stomach, Kira holding her breath as it moves lower. The alien shifts over her, its hand brushing over the top of her pelvis. Kira moves as well, her hips shifting in response to its touch. Her eyes fly open as the alien presses its palm against her, clawed fingers curling around the hem of her jeans. Her brain catches up to her, beginning to process what was happening, and the panic begins. 

“No!” She kicks out at the alien, landing one against its chest. It hisses at her, but she doesn’t cower in fear, wiggling and fighting her way out from under it. 

As soon as she can she’s on her feet, racing from the barn and back towards her house. The fear that the alien could easily catch her, pounce on her before she even reaches her door drives her on faster. But she makes it inside, slamming and locking the sliding back door before she collapses to her knees, dry heaving as she sobs. 

It wasn’t the fact that the alien was touching her. She knew that would happen. She had been expecting it. 

No, she was upset about the wetness between her own legs. She had been enjoying it.

Part 6

[atmilliways]

On the 11th day of Dethmas this writer gives to thee…

Dec 23 - Home (or alone) for the holidays

Toki is totally not lonely because his bandmates forgot about him, and Magnus is totally not guilty about rolling with it to sate his own curiosities.

Like Kevin McCallister, it wasn't like Toki tried to get left behind . . . but he's not entirely mad about it, either.

Anyway, this is my first Magnus/Toki fic, so, hmm.

~

Mordhome Alone

“So,” Magnus said as he crossed the threshold. “This is the famous Mordhaus.”

“Yeah, isn’t it cools?” Toki enthused as he ushered the older man inside. 

It certainly was a step up from the crappy apartment they’d had back when Magnus was still in Dethklok. For one thing, he never could’ve broken in to paint REVENGE IS COMING on the walls here. He’d counted at least eleven snipers that he could see on the way in, and knowing both the band’s reputation for over the top security measures and the limitations of his one good eye, probably at least double that number that he hadn’t noticed. If he weren’t here by Toki’s express invitation, he’d be so many different kinds of dead right now. 

He didn’t need any recon inside this place for The Plan—it would never work to pull anything there, not with so much security in every nook and cranny. But he’d always been curious, so here he was. 

“And none of the other guys are here?” Magnus pressed, still looking around. Fuck, this place was huge. (This could have been his.) “Not even Offdensen?”

“Nah,” Toki replied offhandedly, “they thoughts I was on the plane and tooks offs withouts me to goes on a ski trip, ands now they’re stucks in a blizzards. They can’t gets back and I can’t goes theres. So, I calls you!”

Without any warning that Magnus had picked up on, Toki reached out and grabbed his hand. It wasn’t like he threaded their fingers together or anything, but the surprise connection was more than Magnus felt comfortable with, an uncomfortable feeling in his gut that he wasn’t used to at all and had no idea how to label. (He didn’t do guilt; he didn’t do ‘cowed by how open and naively friendly someone was unexpectedly being’ either. It was definitely, one hundred percent neither of those things.)

“Come ons, I shows you around!”

The young guitarist pulled him from room to room, chattering nonstop. It was annoying in an informative, easy to tune out the rambling bits sort of way. This was the room where Dethklok hung out and played video games, this was the room where they hung out to watch tv and eat snacks, this was the room where they hung out in a surprisingly small hot tub for five male billionaires who didn’t seem to like each other’s company that much, this was the cavernous kitchen that they frequented when they wanted more snacks or possibly even a meal. It was endless and irritating, and Magnus didn’t actually want to spend a ton of time with this babbling idiot, but he reminded himself that this was all part of The Plan and sullenly continued to let himself be dragged around and shown all the shit that he could have had, but didn’t. 

He did ask for a drink, though, to blunt the edges. Toki gestured to someone in his blind spot, and moments later a cold beer was handed to him by a hooded servant. 

“And this ams my room,” Toki told him proudly, tugging Magnus into . . . the smallest room he had seen yet. It was basically a stone box with an on-suite. Model airplanes hung from the ceiling, action figures crowded the edges of his bookshelf, and the desk was piled with unfinished projects and puzzles and crap. One of the pictures hanging on the wall over the narrow bed and beneath a double-sided battle axe was an early promo shot of the band, and another was a close-up of some scary zombie-looking asshole’s face, maybe a relative or something. The rest of the walls were mostly just decorated with taped up posters of boats, planets, and sharks. 

“This?” Magnus repeated. “Seriously? You have . . . and entire fucking mansion that’s tricked out with all kinds of cool shit, but this is your room.”

If it had been him, he’d have his own arcade, giant tv, and hot tub in his room, so he could do all those things on his own if he wanted to. Plus a bitching sound system. Plus bigass windows to let some actual fucking light in. Plus . . . god, was that bed from IKEA or something? Was all of this from IKEA? Riches were wasted on this kid, Magnus decided scornfully. He had no idea how to appreciate what he had at his fingertips. 

Toki shrugged. “I gots all the rest of the place if I wants that other stuff, so this ams just all stuffs I mades by myself. Evens the desk, I puts that together. Just Toki’s.” He met Magnus’ incredulous look with a sudden grin and squeezed his hand. “Comes on, let’s go back to the others room and watch a movies!”

~

It wasn’t until halfway through the movie that Magnus wasn’t even paying attention to—he was looking around and trying to appraise the cost and potential EBay value of anything he saw that wasn’t nailed down and small enough to fit in his pocket—that he realized Toki kept scooting closer to him on the couch. That, after all the hand holding, finally started to set off alarm bells. 

Did the poor simple bastard have some sort of crush on him or something? How embarrassing. So embarrassing that he couldn’t decide if he wanted to try and snap a picture to sell to some gossip rags later or not. 

That was totally why he felt weird and jumpy, and only more so once Toki had inched close enough to rest his head on Magnus’ shoulder. A weird, warm, hyper-awareness bloomed anywhere Toki touched him—first his shoulder, then his side, then (Magnus absolutely did not gulp when this happened) his thigh. He had to wrestle down the impulse to start bouncing that leg restlessly, because he didn’t dare shake him off and potentially ruin The Plan. 

So he stayed still. And the thing about the warmth was that Toki was just radiating with it, and the longer he was so close the more it spread. Magnus felt as though he might incandesce at any moment and he fucking hated every second of it. 

He tried directing his attention to the tv and remembered it was December, so Toki had picked a Christmas movie at random. On the giant screen, Sarah Jessica Parker was covered in egg and screaming in a kitchen. Not the best distraction ever. 

“Needs anything?” Toki asked casually, as if everything was just fine and dandy, apparently somehow not noticing that Magnus was on the verge of starting to worry he might have a heart attack. 

“No,” Magnus grunted. A way out would be great, thanks. He remembered he still had a beer in one hand (his fourth or fifth, at this point) and raised his unencumbered arm to glug the rest of it down. 

“You sures?” Toki pressed, looking up at him with guileless eyes. 

Shaking the last few drops out and tossing the bottle down the couch, Magnus started to say Another drink, something stronger this time, but he couldn’t. Toki’s lips pressed warmly, nervously against his, kissing away the aftertaste of beer. 

He had not come prepared for this. 

He didn’t even need to be here, it wasn’t necessary to The Plan. 

Toki was too goddamned nice, inviting him here and showing him around like he genuinely wasn’t a threat, like he was someone Toki actually enjoyed being around. (Magnus thought pretty highly of himself, but even he had to admit that most people didn’t ever appreciate his presence. Or if they did it, usually wasn’t for this long. Jealous douchebags, that’s all they were, the whole fucking human race.) 

Magnus took it anyway. Fuck it, why not? It had been one thing when he was still in his twenties or thirties, hot in a rough-and-tumble bad-boy musician way, getting his share of action after playing a gig at some nothing bar, but at his age and painful lack of fame and fortune, to have anyone this young and ripped pressed up against him was a rare occurrence. He was taking the kiss out of spite, he told himself, and gave back as good as he got. 

Surely he wouldn’t regret this later. 

Toki sighed against his mouth, bright blue eyes fluttering open. “Thanks you, Magnus.”

“Uh.” Magnus fought against instinctively grimacing at the thanks, which he wasn’t used to. He licked absently at his lip, not realizing he was doing so until the tip of his tongue brushed Toki’s lip too and made the other man giggle. Fucking giggle. “For what?”

“For beings here,” Toki told him. “Is nice to nots be alones on Christmas, don’ts you thinks?”

Magnus wanted to say he’d ever particularly noticed Christmas one way or the other before, but for some reason it (the lie) stuck in his throat. “. . . Yeah, I guess.”

Something in Toki’s eyes shifted and he suddenly looked . . . he looked lonely, as familiar a sight as though Magnus was recognizing it in a mirror (which he definitely never did). He wondered what Toki was gunning for here—a friend with benefits, or something more than that? 

Something ‘just Toki’s,’ a little holiday closeness with someone he thought actually cared?

(That thought didn’t make Magnus feel like a two-bit white masquerading as something better, not even a little bit.)

“You wants to sees my room agains?” Toki whispered?

On the tv, sappy holiday ambiance music played as the movie went out of its way to establish that everyone was friendly and happy and appropriately paired up now, all two-by-two sheep marching into Noah’s ark before the winter flood. 

“Sure,” Magnus said. 

He wasn’t a sheep, he told himself, it had just been too long since he’d last gotten laid. 

Christmas had nothing whatsoever to do with it.

[one-shot-plus-size]

Home is where the heart is. Part 6.

Imagine : Clayton Cardenas meets Olivia Mazru, who is on vacation in the USA for the first time.

Chapters: 6/10

Each of the 7 chapters will cover 3 days of Olivia’s vacation, and 3 chapters will cover the time after returning home.

Part 5

Clayton took her for breakfast and then for a walk to Central Park. Their hands were all the time intertwined, they walked through the green area. All the time his hand embraced her, his thumb gently smoothed her skin. At noon, they took the food out of the pub and settled on the grass in the quietest part of the park - Sheep Meadow.

- And how do you like it? - Clayton was looking at her pushing pasta into her mouth.  

- I am not used to such noise, you know I live in the countryside. In a small house in the forest, I have a garden and a sacred peace. This city is vibrant with life, it also has its charm. But in the long run it would be tiresome - she smiled at it, putting a little shrimp in her mouth. 

- How is it where you live ? - he rested his hands on his knees. 

- I have a beautiful little house made of wood. I built it myself, my colleague is an architect. She helped me to put on paper what I had in my head, then she adjusted it to the building conditions in the area. The family helped me with the construction and in about two years my dream places were created. - She was looking at it. 

His eyebrows reached the hairline, he was surprised how resourceful it was. 

- I don't care about the picture - she pulled the phone out of her pocket. 

She searched the photo gallery on the phone until she found this one picture of her house. She turned the device in his direction, Clay looked at the photo.

- This is a photo a few days after the construction and cleaning up of the site. Now I have an access road, I've given myself a place where I park my car. A friend helped me to make a terrace at the back of the house and a porch in front.

- I will be honest, right ? - He was looking at it. 

- Sure - she nodded her head blocking the device and putting it away. 

- Marry me - he laughed - he has lived in this world for 33 years and I have never met such a resourceful and overwhelming woman as you. You have your own company, you work on a full-time basis and you have built a house with your own hands. I am in shock, the guy you give your heart to will be the happiest guy in the world. 

She snorted under her nose and twisted her head. 

- Poland is not like the United States. In my country, people like me are somewhat excluded. Maybe not excluded but more unwanted. There, people with colorful hair, numerous earrings and quite a lot of overweight are different, avoided. Guys want beautiful women, slim with normal hair color. Well I don't fit in, I've never been like most people and never will be. My introverted character doesn't help to meet new people. Some time ago I realized that I want to live on my own terms. This is my life, I am what I am and nobody can dictate my conditions. - She looked at it - I'm sorry, I'm talking nonsense.

Clayton was staring into the space in front of him, holding a box of food in his hands. His eyebrows were wrinkled in thought. 

- You don't say stupidity, people can be cruel without any reason. And how you handled all this is admirable. Wear yourself proud, because you deserve it - He leaned slightly and wet her on the cheek. 

- Thanks - she blushed. 

After the meal they lay down on the grass and talked about everything and nothing concrete. They simply enjoyed their company. After resting they went to METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART. 

- Do you want coffee? - Clay stood before her.

- With milk, please - she smiled and sat on the stairs.

- Good - he nodded his head. 

He put his hands on her knees and leaned on them. He leaned down and kissed her a little bit harder first. Her hand rested on his cheek and smiled slightly. He broke away from her, cmocked her in the forehead and went to the coffee shop. Olivia ran her thumb over her mouth and smiled like a fool. 

- It's good to be in love - a voice was heard behind her. 

She turned around behind her, saw a middle-aged woman with a smile from ear to ear. 

- That boy of yours must love you - she looked at him - you can see it from people, I used to be like that too. Please nurture love is the most important thing in your life. 

- Thank you - she smiled slightly. 

She turned her head when Clayton ordered coffee. She looked at him, his ass was perfectly exposed by dark jeans. The horizontal line shirt emphasized his shoulder muscles and slim figure well. Hair in total disorder added to his charm, he turned to her as if feeling her gaze. He smiled widely and returned to the woman in the booth with his gaze. When he smiled on his cheeks two sweet bouquets were formed on his cheeks like in small, plump children. The smile was spreading all over his face, he looked so charming then. She smiled to herself and let her head down. She wanted to have such a guy with her, all her co-workers' jaws would fall down. After a few moments, Clay fell down next to her giving her a cup of coffee. 

- Thanks - she nodded her head. 

She looked at the streets and the cars driving around, this city was really bustling with life. Crowds of people were walking the streets, people were hurrying. Businessmen in well-cut suits, women in perfect suits. Everyone was in a hurry, chasing for money. For a fortune which, after death, will be of no use to any of us. But each of us had different priorities in life, each of us wanted to experience them differently. 

- What are you so proud of? - Clay poked her on the shoulder. 

- Nothing concrete. 

He nodded his head slightly and stared at the space in front of him. 

- When do you start recording the second season of Mayan's MC? 

- In just over a month we start working on the set. 

- Cool, I watched all seasons of Sons of Anarchy on Netflix when I worked at home for some time. I was absorbed by this series endlessly, Kurt Sutter did a good job.

- Have you watched us? - He looked at her - in the sense of Mayan's MC?

- Of course I did - she was nodding her head - a bit illegal, but I had no other choice. 

- Oh - he laughed. 

- You know, in my country there is no such access to series and films as here. Sometimes you have to exercise yourself to get over something.

- He promises you that when we record the second season he will send you records with episodes so you don't have to break the law - he laughed.

- I take your word for it - she patted it on the shoulder. 

- SAMCRO's favorite character?

- Chibs - she laughed. 

- Why ? - He was drinking coffee by peeking at it.

- Throughout the whole series he probably went through the biggest change, even though he was broken so many times, he was hurt so much, he was still such a wicked Scotsman. Then I guess Jackson didn't quite understand the ending, but after a while I know that he was just being eaten by remorse. 

- And at Mayan's? 

- Honestly it's hard to say, this is only the first season, it's not known how the characters will develop. But if I were to say now it would probably be either Bishop or a young part of the club. Bishop because he emanates such strength, decisiveness and power. And young because there is a great relationship and interaction between them. Your role of Angela Reyes is really cool, you play him great.

- Thanks - he blushed on his cheeks. 

- You play really well, you are talented. 

- That's enough or I'll blush. 

- Too late - she laughed. 

- Shut up - he snorted at her. 

She leaned her chin against his shoulder. He looked at her and smiled slightly. 

- So where are you going to take me today, what?

- What would you like to see? - He finished his coffee. 

- I was planning a Time Squer in the evening. 

- So we will go there - he nodded his head - any more special wishes ?

- I guess not for today anymore, but I will come up with something for tomorrow. 

- How about if he plans a great day tomorrow, then we'll go to dinner in the evening. And we will spend the next day in bed ? You're out in a few days, and I'd like to give you some more pleasure. 

He noticed how he bites his lower lip. 

- If you want to, of course - he added quietly. 

Olivia put the coffee mug on the step between her legs, grabbed Clayton's beard and turned his face in her direction. She dipped him in the mouth without taking the look away from him.

- She wanted to - she smiled slightly. 

He leaned harder towards her, nudged her nose and kissed her lightly. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the taste of her as she opened her lips, he entered them with his tongue. He broke away from her and looked around him biting his lower lip.

- Come on - he squinted and rose. 

He dragged her behind him to the Museum building, walked quickly to the ticket offices. 

- Can we use the toilet? My girlfriend wants to pee terribly - he gave the cashier his company smile.   

- You have to buy the tickets - the cashier did not even look at them.

Clayton snorted under his nose, took the amount deducted to the counter. Then he dragged Olivia to the bathrooms. 

- What are you doing? - She followed him. 

- You'll see - He pushed her into the bathroom. 

He looked around again and followed her into the room. He locked the door behind him, pressed her firmly against the wall and kissed her. A moan came out of her mouth when he rolled his hips into her. She felt his penis pressed against his pants, her hand slipped down on his crotch. She rubbed them a few times, and he broke away from her. He leaned his forehead against her forehead and moaned.

- Do you like to do this in a public place ? - she looked into his eyes.

He smiled wide, his hands slipped on her pants. He unbuttoned them and slid his hand into her panties, he felt how wet it was. He slipped his fingers inside her, she moaned in his ear. He moved them strongly and quickly, stabbed his teeth in her neck. 

- Clay...- she moaned constantly. 

- Come on, baby - he whispered in her ear - he feels you clench, come on my toes. And I'll give you what you need. 

He moved faster and faster, she leaned her forehead against his shoulder. When she had an orgasm, she stuck her teeth into his shoulder, and he hissed. He pulled his fingers out of it and put them in his mouth, stared at her eyes. 

- You taste so good - he muttered. 

She grabbed his hand, slipped her fingers into her mouth. She braided them with her tongue and kept eye contact with him all the time. 

- Enough - he muttered.  

He grabbed her ass and led her to the sink, on which he had planted her before taking off her pants. When he kissed her, she was getting to him. She unfastened his belt buckle, button and lock. He helped slide them down to his knees together with the boxers. She embraced him with her hand and moved him several times. 

- Fuck - he leaned his forehead against her shoulder. 

She braided him with her legs at the waist and attracted to herself. He moved his penis along her entrance, irritated her for a while, and then finally went deep into her. 

- If they catch us it will burn - she moaned.

- A note of adrenaline - he laughed.

He did not brake, they did it quickly. Initially she was worried that someone might catch them having sex in the Museum bathroom, but as the pleasure grew, she did not care. She was sticking her teeth into his shoulder when she had a second orgasm, Clayton needed a longer time to come. He stabbed his face in her neck and grunted when he was falling down inside her. Olivia was smoothing his hair while he calmed his breath, raised his head slightly. He wetted her in the mouth and slipped out of her. First he wiped himself and packed into his boxers and pants and then cleaned her up. With a soaked towel, he helped her put on her underwear and pants. He pushed her to the door for a while and kissed her deeply.

- You are the first woman I have done such a thing with - he smiled at her mouth.

 - I am usually not like that. 

- Usually you are polite and laid out ? - she improved herself in the mirror. 

- So that you know - he nodded his head. 

He opened the door, slid his head through the door and looked around the hallway. When he saw that nobody was there, he pulled Olivia out of the room.  

- I won't believe you are a good boy - she laughed following him.

Part 7

[bakubabes-tatakae]

The Man With The Shadows

Author’s Note: If anyone wants to be in a taglist for this feel free to let me know! Happy to do it for anyone!

(Yami Sukehiro x Reader)

Summary: Yami has his hands full with the Black Bulls. Y/N might be a member of the Silva house, but she was disowned for being in love with a commoner. Together they lead this band of misfits, one chaos driven mission at a time.

AO3 Link

Part One:

Word Count: 2,090

It was a normal day in the Black Bulls hideout. Pandamonieum was always afoot, there was never a dull moment in this place. Magna and Luck flew about the place, fireballs bounced off furniture, lighting strikes left marks on the floors. Charmy sat at her usual table, enjoying some delectable snacks made by her sheep cooks. Gauche sat at another table, admiring a picture of the adorable Marie, something we all thought odd, but we let it happen anyway. Vanessa laid on the couch, still hungover from the night before. Everyone was just the same as they always were, just a little more intensified with the Captain not here to supervise. 

Yami Sukehiro, the Captain of the Black Bulls, was out at the entrance exams for the Magic Knights, looking for some fresh meat to bring home to us. When Yami was away I was in charge, something that I tried my best at, but the luck just wasn’t there. You would think that being the girlfriend of the big, bad, Yami Sukehiro, would at least strike some fear in them, but these jokers didn’t seem to have a fearful bone in their body. They all knew that when Yami returned and saw the place in shambles they were all in for it. 

When the doors opened nobody but I seemed to notice. A young boy with ash blonde hair pushed it open and stood in front of us. “I’m the newest member of this squad, fresh from Hage village.” A fireball from Magna that was just hit back toward him by Luck began careening toward the boy. As he began to speak again the fireball hit as his feet, sending him flying out the door as he hollered his next words. “I’m Asta!” He name began to echo as he got farther from the door. I cringed as I saw Yami’s figure start to appear. 

The rest of the squad hadn’t even noticed. Magna was screaming at Luck again. “Okay, now I’m really mad. Are you ready to take me on!?” 

Luck was jumping away from him. “Nope, not really, but lets go!” 

Fireballs started to fly everywhere again. I face palmed and looked around at them all. Vanessa was starting to awake next to me. She sat up a little and smiled at me. “Hey baby girl.” 

I smiled at her and laughed. “How’s your head feel?”

She groaned. “Why is it so loud in here? I should have skipped those extra drinks. My head is killing me.”

Gauche was getting agitated really fast. I could see it in his body posture. Finally he exploded, turning to face the two fighting in the common area. “Enough! Shut up damn you!”

The young boy hollered again, trying to get everyone’s attention. “I’m Asta from Hage village! I’m a Black Bull now too. Some day, I’m gonna become the Wizard King!”

I watched him and glanced at Yami, giving him an apologetic smile. Yami took a drag from his cigarette and shrugged at me. 

Gauche was getting angrier by the second and so was I. He exploded for a second time before I could even get a word out. “Come on, give it a rest you idiots! You’re going to wake up my sister with all the noise you’re making! DAMN IT!” 

Vanessa’s hangover was just making her grumpy. “Get over it you freaky sister lover!”

I slapped her arm. “What the hell happened to you?”

She scratched the back of her head. “I remember getting into a drinking contest with some guy, but after that…” She smiled at me and laid against my shoulder. “Will you please shut up!” She hollered at the two that were destroying the hideout. “I’ve got the mother of all headaches.”

Magna stopped what he was doing and looked at her. “That’s your own problem you drunk!”

Vanessa and I stood up quickly, the three of us got right into each other’s face. Vanessa was seeing red. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

I pointed at him. “At least she’s not a virgin street punk!”

“Virgin street punk, where do you get off calling me that?”

Luck flew over to where we were. “Better be careful,” He spoke to Magna. “Get distracted and I’ll get you.”

Magna’s short attention span once again got the best of him. He turned and started toward Luck. “Oh yea, then come here and give it your best shot.

I groaned loudly and walked away, headed toward Yami. More chaos went on behind us as I got to him. He wrapped one arm around my shoulder and kissed the top of my head. Our height difference made it a perfect opportunity for him. I looked up at him and gave him the same apologetic smile from before. “I tried to keep them in line, but you know how they are.”

Yami chuckled. “Don’t worry about it princess.” Princess was my name when he knew we were the only two to hear it. Finally, Yami had had enough. The power of his magic radiated off of him, a shade of purple surrounded his body. “Alright, I’ve had enough.” He took his arm off my shoulder and before I could object to him doing it, his fist hit the wall beside us as hard as he could. “Quit breaking stuff already!!” The wall collapsed a lot more around where Magna had sent a fireball through the door. 

Asta was in shock. “Oh man, now it’s way broken.”

Everyone finally turned around, finally noticing that Yami had come back. The group all came running toward us, all talking to Yami at once. Magna fought his way to the front. “How was it? Did you find us an arrogant newbie? I can take him down notch if you want.”

Luck shoved Magna’s face and moved him to the side. “Please sir, can I go against you today?” He began to punch the air. “Come on, don’t hold back. 

Vanessa grabbed my arm and pulled me into her, shoving herself in front of Yami. “Now, now, forget all about these little brats. Wouldn’t you rather come out for a drink with us?”

Charmy sat patiently, waiting for Yami to look over at her. “Hey, hey, try this.” She held a cupcake out to him. “It’s really good. Take a big bite, go on.”

Gauche was impatient as usual. “I’m sorry, I can’t take it anymore, may I please go see my sister?”

Yami laughed at them all and grabbed my arm, stealing me back like Vanessa had from him. “Yea, yea, glad to know how much you all missed me.” He took another drag from his cigarette. “Now shut up, will ya?”

They all sat down at once on the floor, like obedient little dogs. They spoke together. “Sorry sir.”

“I’d like you all to meet our new…” Yami looked around. “Huh? Where’d he go?”

We all looked over when we heard the faint talking of a young boy. Asta was underneath Grey, whom was in her form of a giant man. “Please help me. I can’t breath.” Asta was reaching out for us. 

Instead of helping him Yami got frustrated. “Quit messing around!” Grey stood up and Asta made his way over to us, standing next to me since Finral stood on the other side of Yami. “Now, as I was saying, this shrimp here is our other new member.”

Asta looked over at him. “What do you mean other?”

Yami ignored him. “Go on, tell them your name or something.”

“Yes sir. My name’s Asta from Hage Village. It’s really nice to meet everyone.” 

Everyone was quiet for a second, until Magna broke the silence. “You’re from Hage? That’s out in the middle of nowhere.”

Yami looked to his left. “Finral, introduce everyone, would you?”

Finral looked at the group in front of him. “Sure thing sir. Let’s see, where to start.” He looked to his left. “You know Gordon Agrippa. Not always the easiest guy to talk to, but he’s good people.” Finral moved on. Next he stood in front of the pink haired witch. “Next we have Vanessa Enoteca. Tends to pick fights when she’s drunk, but she’s good people.” 

Vanessa glared at Finral. “Picking fights? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She looked over at Asta. “Hage village, way off on the outskirts of the kingdom?”

Asta smiled. “Yea!” 

Vanessa got close to Asta and he blushed and looked shocked. “To make your way from a little back water village like that to a Magic Knight Squad, you must have worked so hard. Nice kiddo. How about I give you something as a reward, huh?” Before she could say another word Vanessa threw up on the floor in front of her.

I turned and hid my face in Yami’s shoulder, trying not to let her see me laugh at her expense. Finral continued, not even acknowledging Vanessa anymore. “Alright, let’s continue, shall we?” 

Luck stood up in front of the two of them as Vanessa threw up again. “Hey, do me next!”

“Luck Voltia, a battle freak who’s addicted to fighting, but he’s good people.”

“Nice meeting you.” Luck smiled. “So hey, do you like to fight?”

“Uh, sure.” Asta didn’t seem to confident in his answer. 

“Yea?! That’s cool. I love it.” Luck punched the air again. “What do you say? Wanna go?”

“Well, uh…” Before Asta could finish speaking Gaucha stepped up to him. 

Gauche held out a sister of Marie in front of his face. “Hey, see her?” Asta was confused now. “This is my sister Marie. She’s an angel.”

“Yea?”

“Listen, if you lay a finger on her, then you die.”

Asta yelped a little and Finral interrupted. “Gauch Adlai, loves his sister a tad too much, but he’s good people.” Finral pointed toward Charmy. “This here is Charmy Pappitson, a big eater, but she’s good people.”

She raised her arm while eating a muffin. “Nice to meet ya!”

“And this is Grey, I don’t really get him, but he’s good people.” They walked over to Magna. “Then there’s Magna Swing, a street punk, but he’s good people.” He pointed to himself. “And I am Finral Roulacase. Lady Killer.” 

I stepped forward a little and smiled, interjecting. “But he’s good people.” Asta turned to me and smiled a little, chuckling. 

Finral’s eyes flattened some. He knew I was mocking him. He put his arm out toward Yami and I. “And finally, we have the Black Bulls fearless leaders. Co-Captain Y/N Silva and the great Captain Yami Sukehiro.” 

Yami took a drag of his cigarette and wrapped his free arm around my shoulder again. “There are other members, but they’re either on missions, or on leave, or… I don’t know…” He smiled at Asta. “Think you can play nice newbie?”

“Yes sir! We’re gonna get along so well! Like I said before, IT’S REALLY NICE TO MEET YOU GUYS!”

Vanessa stood up and walked over to me, leaning into my arm. “My god, is he trying to kill me?”

Yami chuckled. “That’s something I didn’t notice before, you’re as loud as you are short, aren’t you?”

“Yea!” 

“Shut up.” Yami turned and looked at him menacingly. “Alright, let’s go. Give him a good workout, but don’t kill him.”

Magna was the first person to stand up. “Did you hear him? Yami wasn’t us to make sure you get a good workout.” Magna had a diabolic look on his face. “That’s just what I’m gonna do.” He crossed his arms. “A pathetic runt like you? And from where? Hage? A village almost no one had ever heard of before. Not much mana either. And you’re the newest member of the Black Bulls? You gotta be kidding me? I don’t know what some magic poor hick like you could have possibly done to impress Yami. Do you wanna wear the robe that will prove you’re a member of the Black Bulls?” 

Asta was like a starving animal, he reached for the robe. “Yea, I do, gimmie, gimmie!”

“Wow, you’re really excited. You want it that bad? Okay, but first you need to earn the approval of Yami’s chief subordinate, me, man among men, Magna Swing. This marks your entry to the black bulls. A true baptism by fire.” 

I looked over at Yami, hoping he would stop Magna, Magna had never been one to go easy on people. Yami smiled and kissed the side of my head. “Don’t worry Y/N. Everything will be fine.”

Updated: 5/13/2020

[prettyboy-parker]

welcome to albuquerque

rancher!tony x ranch hand!peter

warnings: there’s a bj scene, daddy kink (sorry!), tony and steve are divorced, tony calls peggy a bitch

words: 3.8k

Peter practically sulks the entire way to Mr. Stark’s house.

He can’t believe his aunt is making him be a ranch hand, without pay, for the entire time he’s there.

There isn’t much to do where his aunt lives anyway, so maybe it’ll keep him entertained.

But Peter can’t help and think the opposite as he leaves his bike resting against the worn, uneven fence enclosing Mr. Stark’s property. Peter slowly walks up the dirt path to the modest sized house on the property. A wooden sign next to the steps reads “Iron Man Ranch”, and Peter snorts at the name. He warily knocks a few times on the crooked door, and it swings open.

If this is Mr. Stark, Peter’s screwed.

The man is fucking handsome, with salt and pepper hair and a goatee that matches. (What Peter would give to feel that on his thighs.) Peter’s mouth goes dry at the sight of the man’s chest, blue and white flannel unbuttoned enough to let him get a glimpse of Mr. Stark’s chest hair and cross necklace.

“What do you want?” He grunts, leaning on the frame of the door, crossing his built arms across his chest.

“Hi! I’m Peter, Peter Parker.” Peter squeaks, outstretching his hand so Mr. Stark can shake it.

He doesn’t.

“Um, okay,” Peter hums, dropping his hand. “My Aunt said you were looking for a ranch hand?”

Mr. Stark is quiet as he thinks for a moment. He cocks his head, eyes narrowing as he studies Peter silently.

“Come on in, kid.”

Mr. Stark turns and heads inside, Peter rushing after him. The house is nice, a homey vibe given off by the decor and furniture. There’s pictures of Albuquerque hanging on the dark red walls, as well as many high quality photos of horses.

“Your aunt is May Parker, right?” Mr. Stark asks, sitting down at the old kitchen table. Peter sits down as well, nervously placing his hands in his lap.

“Yup!” He responds a little too cheerily. Mr. Stark nods.

“Figured. Talks about you a lot.”

Peter feels blood rush to his cheeks and he curses at himself silently.

“Oh, really?” He breathes, tapping nervously on the painted table. Mr. Stark smirks, leaning back in his dining chair.

“Only good things. Don’t worry, kid.” The older man huffs, stroking his beard gently. “Do you ride?”

Peter’s mind goes to the wrong place, until he realizes the man is talking about horses.

“Oh, I’ve never ridden a horse before.”

Mr. Stark exhales deeply, cocking an eyebrow.

“You realize it’s a farm hand position, right?” He quips, and Peter giggles softly. Mr. Stark is smiling now, wiping his hands on his blue jeans. “It’s no big deal. I can teach you.”

Peter’s mouth goes dry at the thought of Mr. Stark teaching him how to ride a horse.

“That would be super cool.” Peter replies.

“Tomorrow, 6 am.” Mr. Stark says with a smile, stretching out his hand.

They shake on it.

☀️🐴☀️

The midsummer air is dry on the bike down to Iron Man Ranch.

Peter thought summer was for sleeping in, notgetting up at 5 to tend to some cows. He’s lucky that Mr. Stark is very attractive, giving him some form of better entertainment throughout the day.

As the brunette slowly approaches the ranch, he spots Mr. Stark by the front of the fence, petting a pretty dappled horse. He spots Peter and waves him over.

“Mornin’, Pete.” He calls out as the younger jogs over. Peter’s heart skips a beat at the nickname.

“Good morning, Mr. Stark,” He chirps, coming to a slow walk as he shuts the gate to the fence surrounding the field. Mr. Stark just purses his lips, scratching his horse behind her ear.

She paws at the ground happily, the early morning sun glistening off her white and grey fur.

“This is Friday, my best girl.” Tony pats Friday’s flank affectionately. “You won’t be riding her, or Jarvis over there, but they need to graze.”

Peter looks over to where a chocolate colored horse is eating the grass farther away.

“She’s beautiful, Mr. Stark,” Peter hums, raising a gentle hand to scratch her neck. Mr. Stark smirks proudly, cowboy hat tipped slightly in front of his eyes.

“Let’s teach you to ride, kid.”

Peter follows Mr. Stark into the stables, nose scrunching at the smell of fresh manure.

“After we do this, you get to clean up the shit.” Mr. Stark quips as Peter steers clear of a muddy puddle.

He knows he’s not joking.

“That is what I signed up for,” Peter replies, but his voice catches in his throat when the come to the last stable.

The horse inside is gorgeous, with sparkling brown eyes and a buckskin coat.

“Edith, my American Quarter. She’s a real sweetheart. Got her from a rescue in Las Cruces.” Mr. Stark says fondly, giving Edith an affectionate scratch on the cheek. Peter holds his hand out so she can sniff it, and she does, giving him a lick. Peter giggles, petting her neck.

“We’ll get her saddled up, and I’ll teach you, yeah?”

Peter nods and listens patiently as Mr. Stark shows him how to put all the equipment on Edith. It’s... a lot, and Peter knows it’s going to take him more than a couple tries to get everything right.

“Okay,” Mr. Stark huffs, guiding Edith to stand in front of the wooden block steps. “You’re going to step up on the mounting block, put your right foot in that stirrup, then swing your left leg around.”

Peter somehow mounts the horse with ease, probably due to years of gymnastics.

“Good Job, Pete,” Mr. Stark praises, and holy fucking shit, his hand is on Peter’s thigh as he nudges the mounting block out of the way. The younger boy’s heart starts to speed up and he takes a deep breath to calm himself down.

“You’re going to hold the reigns in two fists,” Mr. Stark instructs, and slides his hand over his thigh and dangerously close to his crotch. The older man grasps the reigns like he explained, and Peter nods, in a slight daze. Mr. Stark guides the reigns to Peter’s hands, and the younger grasps the leather in both his fists.

“Perfect, perfect.” Mr. Stark compliments, calloused hand resting on Peter’s thigh again. The younger boy has to will his growing erection away, blushing furiously.

“Now squeeze her sides to get her to walk. Pull the reigns left to go left, right to go right.”

Peter does as Mr. Stark says, and Edith starts walking slowly. A grin erupts on Peter’s face as he gently steers Edith away from the fence.

“Wonderful, sweetheart. You’re a natural.”

Peter’s Brain short-circuits at the nickname.

Soon, with Mr. Stark’s encouraging words, he’s able to trot around the enclosure.

☀️🐴☀️

Being a ranch hand gets better and better.

It’s a lot of work, tending to the cattle and chickens and sheep, but he ends up putting on a bit of muscle. He just rides Edith everywhere, so there’s less walking involved. He passes Mr. Stark every so often, waving bashfully as the older man nods curtly. He even invites Peter to stay for lemonade and cookies in the afternoon. Mr. Stark is so funny and sweet, and Peter tries not to think to hard about lingering touches the older man gives him.

“We’re going to go riding today, kid.” Mr. Stark tells him when he enters the stables early Friday morning. Peter blinks a few times, since Mr. Stark tends not to mix up their schedule too much.

“Oh, um, where?” Peter asks as he watches Mr. Stark secure the leather saddle onto Edith. Jarvis stands a few paces away, bare except for reigns. Peter had to keep a straight face the first time Mr. Stark explained that he rides his horses bareback. (He tried not to think about how he wants to ride Mr. Stark bare back.)

“There’s a couple of trails in the forest back there. I’ve packed some snacks and lemonade.” He hums, scratching Edith’s neck once he’s done saddling her up. “Hop on and follow me.”

They do just that, Mr. Stark taking the lead as Peter follows out of the enclosure. There’s a cool breeze as they trot through the woods, birds chirping and leaves rustling. Mr. Stark yells out instructions or encouragement ever so often. The sound of running water grows louder as they travel on the path, and eventually it gives way to a clearing.

And a waterfall.

“I like to take the horses here to rest while we ride. I also like to take a dip myself.” Mr. Stark shouts over the water as he slips off Jarvis. Peter does the same, stretching his legs.

“I didn’t bring my suit!” He giggles as Mr. Stark ties both Edith and Jarvis to a tree.

“I don’t mind,” Mr Stark quips, winking at Peter. The younger boy’s face heats up as Mr. Stark takes off his cowboy hat, running his hand through his greying hair.

“You can swim in your boxers, but I don’t recommend riding back with wet underwear.” He laughs, unbuttoning his flannel print shirt. “Chafing’s a bitch.”

Peter tries not to watch Mr. Stark as he takes off his shirt, but it’s really fucking hard not to. He’s all working muscle, with a deep tan from working under the Albuquerque sun. Peter tears his eyes away when they drift down at the dark hair by his navel.

He busies himself with taking off his own burgundy t-shirt, shimmying out of his skinny blue jeans. Peter debates keeping his briefs on, but ultimately decides fuck it.

When he turns back around, naked, he has to bite his lip to stop himself from, moaning or some shit.

Mr. Stark is even more attractive naked, with muscular thighs that could crush Peter if he wanted to. Not to mention he’s fucking hung, even when soft. Peter has to tear his eyes away from the older man’s dick, blushing furiously.

Mr. Stark grins and wades into the water, far enough that the water is up to his chest.

“Come in, Pete!” He shouts, and Peter does, only because he doesn’t want to be exposed in the middle of the forest. The water is really fucking cold, but after riding in long sleeves and pants, it at least feels a little nice.

“Feel good on your muscles?” Mr. Stark asks, and Peter groans in response.

“My neck aches really bad.” Peter complains, water rushing down his chest as he sits up in the creek. Mr. Stark floats over to him, placing his cold hands on his shoulders. Peter’s breath catches in his throat and Mr. Stark needs the knot in his neck.

“I’ve been told I give good massages.” Mr. Stark hums, and a small moan escapes Peter’s lips. Not thinking straight, he looks back at Mr. Stark and rests his head on his wet chest. He’s handsome up close, with his deep smile lines and freckles from the sun. Peter’s lips part, and Mr. Stark leans closer, and-

They’re kissing.

His lips are warm and soft and perfect. The older man tastes like granola and lemonade, the lemonade he drinks like it’s whisky. Peter turns his body so he can cup Mr. Stark’s stubbled jaw in his small palm. Mr. Stark’s large, rough hands rest on the small of Peter’s back, lightly stroking the soft skin. Peter hums happily and leans into the kiss, gently grasping at the bottom of Mr. Stark’s wet hair.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter breathes when the pull away, catching their breath.

“It’s Tony, honey.” The older man mutters softly, wiping a bead of water away from the corner of Peter’s mouth.

“Tony,” The younger breathes, kissing him again.

☀️🐴☀️

“Steve, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Peter looks down at at the bead of moisture running down the side of his glass. The muffled voice speaks again, and Tony rubs the bridge of his nose.

“It’s not fair. You know that. I don’t give a fuck what Peggy wants, she’s not her fucking mother.”

There’s a shout from the phone and even though the caller isn’t even in the room, Peter feels awkward.

“Whatever. But I’ll tell you this, you’re not cutting my holiday visits short.” Tony huffs, hanging up the phone. He stays silent for a second, before banging his fist on the kitchen counter. Peter jumps, but gets up hastily so he can wrap his lean arms around Tony’s thick torso. The older man sighs deeply, pressing a kiss to the top of Peter’s mop of chestnut curls.

“You okay?” He asks, looking up at Tony’s upset face.

“Yeah,” He breathes, brushing a curl away from Peter’s face with a thick finger. “My ass of an ex-husband is cutting my daughter’s visit short for some vacation.”

Peter’s breath catches in his throat.

Ex-husband?

“You were married?” He asks, hand pressed against Tony’s chest. His head spins at the though of a wedding band around the older man’s finger.

“Yeah. He was cheating on me towards the end of our marriage.” Tony tells him, peppering kisses on the younger’s cheek. Peter giggles, running his finger along Tony’s jaw.

“Peggy?” Peter offers, cocking his head. Tony throws his head back and laughs.

“That’s the bitch.”

Peter pokes Tony in the side.

“But you have a daughter? Is she as cute as you?” Peter jokes, slipping his hands into the back pockets of Tony’s jeans.

“You’re hilarious. I’d say she’s cuter.” Tony quips, poking one of Peter’s dimples. “Morgan Stark-Rogers. My little girl.”

Peter feels warm as he listens to Tony talk about his daughter. It’s clear he really loves her, one of the few people who can wipe the usual scowl off his face.

Tony reaches for his phone, unlocking it and pulling up a picture of Morgan. She’s beaming at the camera, next to a dark brown lab that’s missing one leg.

“That’s her dog Bucky. He’s a bit of a moron.”

Peter rolls his eyes, nuzzling into Tony’s chest more.

“He’s cute. Hush.” He scolds. “Besides, I want to hear about Morgan.”

☀️🐴☀️

The days go by blissfully.

He spends more and more time at Tony’s, telling Aunt May that some of the cows have reoccurring health problems, but he really spends most of his time languidly making out with Tony. They never go too far, much to Peter’s disappointment. Tony always stops him if he starts getting too enthusiastic, directing his attention to the movie or show playing on the T.V.

It’s nice, though.

His aunt always makes him stay home on Saturdays, wanting family time, but instead of hanging out with her he’s usually grocery shopping.

He’s standing in front of the shelves of pasta trying to decide between linguini and fettuccine, when a familiar voice speaks up over the squeaking of wheels.

“Peter, baby!”

Tony stands behind his ugly green cart, smiling wide. He lightly grasps Peter’s bicep, pulling the younger in for a quick kiss.

“Hi, Tony.” He says bashfully, placing the box of linguini in his basket. Peter can’t help but graze his eyes over Tony’s body, because he’s in a tank top that shows off his tanned, scarred arms perfectly.

“Daddy! Daddy! I found them!”

A little girl bounds down the aisle, hot pink package in her tiny hands.

Morgan.

“That’s awesome!” Tony replies, watching as Morgan tosses the iced animal crackers into the cart. Peter can’t help but smile at the two. Tony seems so happy when he’s around his daughter.

“Morgan, this is my ranch hand, Peter.”

Morgan clutches onto Tony’s jean-clad calf, peering at Peter with big brown eyes.

“Hi Morgan! Your daddy has told me so much about you.” Peter says happily, squatting down so he’s at eye level with the little girl. Tony tenses up at Peter’s voice, and oh, he had no idea that’s something he’s into.

“It’s time to go get our vegetables, Little Miss.” Tony hums, and Morgan groans, but skips down the aisle in her pink flip flops. Peter stands up, smiling, but Tony pulls him back by his jean pocket.

“You better be coming over tonight, sweetheart.” He growls into Peter’s ear, making the younger blush all over. Tony nips at his earlobe before walking after his daughter.

Peter stands at the end of the aisle, shocked, with a basket of linguini and Ragu.

☀️🐴☀️

“Tony, Tony, below the collar.”

The older man nods and latches his lips onto Peter’s collarbone, sucking at the silky smooth skin. Peter lets out a soft whimper, threading his finger’s through Tony’s greying locks.

“God, you’re so hot Pete, fuck. Should’ve done this earlier.” Tony groans, calloused hands sliding under Peter’s MIT t-shirt, squeezing his hips so tight there will be bruises tomorrow morning. Peter whines, desperately grinding his hips down onto Tony’s crotch.

“Daddy,”  Peter moans quietly right in Tony’s ear, grinning when he hears the other man’s breath catch in his throat.

“Baby, I need to get my mouth on you right now.”He grunts, lifting Peter up off of his lap like he weighs nothing. The younger boy shakes his head, slightly sweaty curls bouncing around.

“Wanna suck you off, daddy,” He purrs, pressing lazy kisses to Tony’s sharp jawline. He bites his lip and throws his head back.

“On your knees, sweetheart.”

Peter obeys, situating himself between Tony’s legs. The silver fox looks like a fucking god, legs spread as he rubs his growing bulge through his jeans, gazing down at Peter with arousal-clouded eyes.

Peter giggles and rubs his hands up and down Tony’s thighs.

“You’ve ever sucked cock before, baby boy?” Tony asks, gently running his thumb over the corner of Peter’s mouth. He nods, eagerly grasping at the button of Tony’s Levi’s.

“Hm. Naughty.” Tony hums, squeezing Peter’s neck gently. “Do those college boys make you feel good?”

“No, not as good as you can, daddy.” Peter whimpers, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the front of Tony’s jeans. The older man hisses, hurriedly yanking down his zipper, and pushes his pants down to his thighs. There’s a noticeable bulge in the front of his navy blue American Eagle boxers.

Trendy.

Peter kneads his cock a few times before pulling it out of his boxers. His mouth waters as the older man’s cock stands at half mast, flushed a dark angry red, a thick vein on the underside of the it.

“Think it’ll fit, baby?” Tony chuckles, stroking the young boy’s cheek.

“Maybe with a little struggle.” Peter says with a wink, pressing a few kisses to the hot skin. The erection jumps, and Tony groans as Peter chases it with his tongue. He starts sucking softly on the slick head, massaging Tony’s heavy balls.

“Love your mouth, Pete.” He moans, gripping Peter’s curls in his hands. Peter eases a few inches more into his mouth, relaxing his throat to the best of his ability. Tony bucks his hips up involuntary, causing Peter’s eyes to sting with tears.

“You taste so good, daddy.” Peter moans, pumping his wrist up and down. Tony exhales deeply, gripping the side of the couch with a death grip.

“Get your mouth back on me, baby, daddy’s close.”

Peter smirks and strokes Tony’s cock slower.

“Losing your stamina, old man?” He teases, squeezing the base of Tony’s dick. His own cock throbs with need, but he wants to get his daddy off first.

“Fuck you, Pete. I can last until the morning, you’re just so fuckin’ hot.”

Pleased with his answer, Peter takes Tony’s cock as far as he can, breathing in the musky scent of his neatly trimmed pubic hair. He starts moving his head, loud, slick noises cutting through his arousal filled brain.

“Ah, honey,” Tony groans, and his hips buck up once, then twice, before he shoots his load down Peter’s throat. The younger boy swallows, pulling off of Tony’s cock with a loud pop.

“Get up here, baby, come fuck into my fist.”

Peter moans as he shimmies out of his jeans, then briefs, small pink cock smacking against his stomach. He scrambles onto Tony’s lap, humping his thighs as he spits into his hand.

“Come on, pretty boy, get yourself off.” Tony hums, making a tight circle with his hands. Peter whimpers and tries to slip his hard length into Tony’s fist, but misses on the first try. Tony helps him out, and Peter starts humping into his fist.

“Peter, come on, you can do it, come for daddy.”

Peter comes with a cry, gripping onto Tony’s broad shoulders.

“Tony, Tony,” He whines, his now soft cock pressing uncomfortably against the other’s hot skin.

“You did so good for me Peter, so good.”

Peter smiles, breathlessly.

☀️🐴☀️

“Peter! Peter! Peter! Look at the unicorn!”

Peter laughs as Morgan pulls on his hand, pointing her chubby finger at the giant pink unicorn stuffed animal.

“I see it, Morg.” Peter tells her, bright neon carnival lights bouncing off his skin. Tony’s hand rests on the small of his back, thumbing at the cloth of his sweatshirt. (Well, it’s actually Tony’s old MIT sweatshirt, but he likes to think it’s his now.)

“Daddy, can I get it?” Morgan pleads, eyeing the clown water game.

“Morguna, honey, you already have a unicorn.” Tony says softly, gesturing to the smaller purple unicorn tucked under her arm.

“But-“

“Morgan.”

Morgan pouts and looks at Peter.

“How about we go on the Ferris Wheel?” Peter offers, trying to steer clear of meltdown. Morgan lights up, and Tony lets out a breath.

“That was close,” Tony mumbles as the maneuver their way through the Fourth of July crowd. He was surprised when Tony invited him to take Morgan to the festival, hell, even the girl wanted Peter to go too.

Morgan practically shoves the 6 tickets into the ride operator’s hand. The teenager rolls his eyes and swings open the gate, Morgan clambering in, then Tony, then Peter.

She’s practically vibrating with excitement, swinging her tiny little legs as Tony not-so-subtly slips his arm around Peter’s shoulder. The ride starts with a lurch, and Morgan squeals happily.

The field sparkles with the lights of the endless rides and games, the people all mushing together into one big blob. The air is cool at the top, stars twinkling in the inky sky.

Tony’s rubbing his thumb down Peter’s neck, and it takes a few moments for Peter to realize he’s staring at him.

Lovingly?

“Daddy, is Peter like Papa? You used to look at Papa like that.”

Peter freezes and Tony tenses up. The older man’s eyes glaze with moisture, and he swallows thickly.

“Yeah baby, Peter, well, I don’t want Peter to leave this time.” He croaks, smiling softly at the younger.

Peter leans over and holds him tight.

☀️🐴☀️

You Are Now Leaving

Albuquerque

Come Back Soon!

[zarcake-writes]

Demon Scarecrow

Ok! Here’s that demon scarecrow story! He doesn’t have a name, and I’m thinking of doing a part two with some smut. If you have any name suggestions, send them my way. And if I can’t decide then I’ll make a poll and let you all decide. Enjoy!

In front of your house is a fenced-off field. It’s far enough away that it’s not an eyesore, but close enough that you can walk to it with no trouble. When you stand on your front porch or look out your bedroom window, you get a good view of the field. At one point it was probably used for farm animals, horses or cattle. Maybe even sheep. Now it’s desolate, seemingly devoid of life, save for the single scarecrow in the center.

Apparently, you own the field, but you don’t remember the realtor saying it was part of the property you bought. The field wasn’t even included on the listing site. You double-checked the site and only found the house, barn, and the rest of the small piece of land to be yours. Nothing about that empty field. But the people in town say otherwise. They insist it’s yours. When you offered to sell it to someone, a neighbor who has horses, he quickly said no. In fact, everyone said no.

Not knowing what to do with a large empty field, you did nothing with it. For a few months, the field was just that, an empty field with a single scarecrow. Your attention was focused solely on unpacking and turning your new house into a home.

It is just the beginning of fall when you finally finished unpacking. And though you have very little in possessions, the house is slowly becoming yours. The pictures on the walls showed the life you had and the people you love. The coffee maker in your kitchen fills the house with delicious smells every morning.

One morning, you’re standing on your front porch when you finally decide to do something about the scarecrow. In your work clothes, with leather work gloves in your back pocket, you head towards the field.

The fence around the field is old and worn. The wood is warm from the sun and smooth to the touch. Etched in some parts of the fence are odd markings, and what looks like Latin phrases. However, the weirdest thing is there's no gate.

Not thinking much of the weird, gateless fence, you climb over it easily. Once you’re over the fence you feel a change. The air grows colder and the world looks darker. You pull your jacket tighter around your body and approach the scarecrow.

It’s hanging on a tall wooden post and is in a deplorable state. The flannel it’s wearing is tattered and so faded you can’t make out the colors anymore. The jeans are faded but seem to have lasted longer than the flannel. The straw hat on its head looks ready to crumble should a strong gust of wind hit the poor thing.

“Oh, your clothes are ruined,” you said.

The scarecrow does not reply. The button eyes stay buttons and the stitched mouth remains stitched. A breeze ruffles the tattered remains of the flannel and the straw hat threatens to crumble.

“Ok, buddy. I’m gonna cut you down and see if I can fix you up.”

It’s an hour later when you finally get the thing off its post. After realizing you couldn’t reach the rope that kept the scarecrow attached to the wood, you had to go get a ladder. Luckily you had one just tall enough, but you had to carry it all the way to the field.

When you climbed up the ladder, after a moment to catch your breath, you realized something strange. The scarecrow wasn’t just attached to the wood with rope, nails were also used. Judging by the head of the nail, they were long and thick. And they were driven through the scarecrow’s wrists.

“That’s… that’s weird.”

You glance at the scarecrow nervously. For a moment, you’re afraid that the thing would be looking at you. Its button eyes watching you and the stitched mouth open to reveal a maw of sharp teeth. But it’s not. The scarecrow hasn’t moved. It’s just a scarecrow.

It’s another trek back and forth for a hammer.

By the time you get the scarecrow down, it’s the early afternoon and you're exhausted. The sun is beating down on you and your hands ache from where the metal ladder dug into your palms. Your arms are still burning from the weight of the ladder and the amount of effort it took to get the scarecrow off the wood.

Beside you, the scarecrow lays in a heap on the ground. Its clothes are tattered and more faded than you realized. Despite the weather-beaten clothes, the scarecrow is in good condition. And it’s a bit more elaborate than other scarecrows you’re seen. It doesn’t just consist of a straw-filled flannel and pants; it has an actual body.

The body of the scarecrow is made of thick, scratchy material. Possibly burlap. The stitching is perfect and neatly done. There’s no popped seams and no straw sticking out. The only reason you know straw is inside the scarecrow is because of a tear in the thing’s abdomen. It reminds you of a large fabric doll.

The nails that were driven into the wrists are long and dark, some type of carpentry nails. But they weren't just driven into its wrists, there were also a two in what would be the scarecrow’s ankles.

“Were you that difficult to put up, that they decided to nail you into the wood?”

You get no answer. The scarecrow stares blankly up at the sky. The cold breeze ruffles your clothes and cools the sweat on your brow. You’re thankful for the cool weather now.

When you’re ready to head back to your house, you bend down and grab the scarecrow. It's light, but the body is taller than you, so carrying it would be awkward. You decide to just drag it to your house. However, not even halfway across the field and you’re struggling. The thing feels like it’s getting heavier and heavier the closer to the fence you get.

“Ah, what the fuck!” you shout in exasperation.

Your arms are burning and sweat runs down the side of your face. The pounding in your chest is so loud you’re sure everything in a five-mile radius could hear it. Not to mention you’re out of breath, and there’s a metallic taste in your mouth.

“Am I that fucking out of shape?”

Part of you thinks it’s that. You have to be out of shape, it can’t be anything else, right? No, you’re just that weak. Or a rock suddenly manifested inside the scarecrow.

You drop the scarecrow onto the ground and take a seat beside the thing.

“Well, I guess I can dress you out here. Maybe fix that hole in your side.”

The only reply you get is the breeze hitting your face. Slightly defeated, you leave the scarecrow where it’s at and head back to your house.

It’s the next day when you decide to fix the scarecrow. You went into town and bought a thick enough needle to go through burlap, sturdy twine, and three bags of hay. The flannel you’re going to dress the scarecrow in belonged to an ex, but he never wanted it back. And you got the scarecrow a new straw hat.

When you make it to the field, the scarecrow is right where you left it yesterday. You get to work fixing the thing up. The old straw smells wet and moldy, so you quickly replace that. Once the body is thick and firm, like it’s supposed to be, you get to work stitching the side. That took you a lot longer than you expected it to take. At one point you jabbed the thick needle into your thumb and blood was everywhere.

After your stab wound was clean, and the scarecrow was stitched, you drag it back to the post. You note that the thing didn’t get heavier as you drag it back to the post. Moving the ladder back and forth yesterday must have really exhausted you more than you thought.

It takes you longer than you care to admit, to hang it back up on the wooden post. The scarecrow's body is so long that you kept losing your grip on it. But finally, you got the thing tied up. The nails didn't seem important, you figured whatever sins the inanimate object committed have been forgiven.

You climb off the ladder and look up at the scarecrow. A cool breeze ruffles the flannel and it moves, but the rope keeps the thing in place. The pride of accomplishing something so physical makes you feel good. It’s been so long since you’ve felt this good.

And the scarecrow looks good, better than it did before. The dark red and cream-colored flannel will hopefully last longer than the old flannel did. The jeans were still good, faded, but sturdy. And the hat on its head, along with the button eyes, gives the scarecrow a childish feel. All that’s missing is a piece of straw sticking out of his mouth.

“Maybe,” you begin with a smile, “I’ll make some more scarecrows. Give you some friends. I’ll have a whole field of scarecrows. I’ll become a scarecrow farmer. Wouldn’t that be funny?”

It’s a few days later when the rumors in town start. Rumors about the scarecrow climbing off the post. Others claim they are plagued by nightmares of the scarecrow with glowing eyes and an unsettling smile that was all teeth. A few even say that the scarecrow was seen around town, walking up and down the streets at night.

You don’t believe them. They were nothing more than rumors meant to scare the new girl in town. And the people in town are nothing more than a bunch of superstitious gossipers.

People in the market begin to whisper when they see you. Some point and others shake their head sympathetically in your direction. A few do the sign of the cross when they see you or come up to you and promise to pray for you.

A group of older people corners you one day when you’re out. They insist you need to do something about the scarecrow and suggest visiting the town priest.

“Look, I get that I’m new in town and it’s probably fun to scare or freak out newcomers, especially if they’re from the city, but this has to stop. It was amusing at first, but it’s getting old,” you tell them.

The four older people look confused, but a woman begins to speak. Her voice is high and she looks almost offended. “You think we’re playing a joke?”

“Well, yeah.”

She scoffs and throws her hands up in frustration. What she’s so frustrated about, you don’t understand. Another of the group, a man about her age, begins to talk.

“Excuse her, she’s just worked up. In fact, we all are. The scarecrow, it’s been haunting our dreams. Please, contact the town priest. He’ll come out and do something to quiet it.”

“Look, I don’t get what you all are talking about. It’s literally just an old scarecrow. I was out in the field the other day and I redressed him and fixed him up. And nothing creepy happened,” you said.

The four people look horrified. The first woman who spoke looks at you like you’re a monster, and there’s burning hate in her eyes that you don’t understand. She points a finger at you and nearly screams, “You did this! You went messing with things you should have left alone! You foolish girl! You know nothing!”

That pisses you off. Her stupid finger in your face and this ridiculous rumor. You’re sick of it, and you’re sick of this old lady. “I know that you are a fucking cunt! And that this entire town is nothing but a huge gossip pit!”

You storm off, leaving the four older people starring after you with their mouths open.

It’s a day later when the scarecrow shows up in your dreams.

The dreams are always dark but bright at the same time. Sometimes they would happen in a strange cornfield that would shift into your home. But it wasn't your home, the things inside were different. Everything was always older and the air smelled sweet, like apple pie.

These dreams last for about a week, and while they always change, the scarecrow was the one constant thing. He never chased or attempted to attack you. It simply watched you but never spoke. But you did notice, with each dream, he was getting closer and closer to you. Until finally, he was an arm’s length away from you.

When you finally decide to speak to him, you’re in the field in front of your house. The world around you shimmers and sparkles in a strange way. The air is warm and it smells sweet, like apple pie. The scarecrow is so close to you.

“What… what are you?” you asked.

The scarecrow tilts its head. “If I tell you, you’ll be scared.”

A chill runs down your spine when it speaks. Its voice is low and raspy, but it sounds like there are multiple voices speaking at once.

“This… isn’t real. This is just a dream. You’re not real.”

“Partly true. This is a dream, but I am very much real.” It takes a step towards you and reaches out for your face. It has hands that don't look right.

You move away from its touch out of instinct. The scarecrow frowns and looks hurt, but lowers his hand.

“My apologies. I do not mean you harm.”

“How… how do I know that? Everyone in town has said you are dangerous. You're haunting everyone's dreams. And they’ve seen you in town.”

The scarecrow scoffs. “Just rumors, spread by those silly humans. I cannot leave the field. There are runes etched into the fence that keep me trapped there. Though, I have been haunting their dreams. It’s what those bastards deserve.”

You nod. “Are… are you going to haunt me? Hurt me?”

“No. You… you remind me of someone I once knew. Besides, you repaired and redressed this body. So, I must thank you for that.”

“Oh, um, you’re welcome.”

He nods and continues looking down at you. The straw hat on his head is tilted up slightly, giving you a clear view of his morphed face. Even though the skin still looks like the burlap material, there are actual facial features. He has a sharp chin and a curved nose. His once cute buttons eyes are gone, replaced by glowing sockets in his burlap face. His mouth opens and closes as he speaks, the string that once kept it shut has become his lips. He has hair now. You don’t remember the scarecrow having hair. Now that you think about it, you don't remember him having hands either.

“So, why does the town deserve those dreams?”

He scowls and looks away. “Because they trapped me in this body and locked me in the field. And they, well, let’s just say they need to pay for the sins of their ancestors.”

“You’re punishing them for something their ancestors did?” That sounds dumb, you think.

He growls and stands taller. “I swore to make them all suffer.” The dream world grows darker and unbearable hot. The apple pie smell vanishes and is replaced with the smell of fire, smoke, and burning hair. The scarecrow looks monstrous, his face grows more distorted. The burlap material splits and tears, something bright green glows from within. When he speaks, you swear the entire world shakes. “And I always keep my word.”

“What are you?” you whisper in terror. You want to cry and run away, but the terrible image of this scarecrow leaves you frozen in fear.

The creature, sensing your fear, calms. His body goes back to looking like it did before and the world around you brightens. The smell of burning flesh is replaced with the comforting smell of apple pie.

“I am a demon, little human.”

That doesn’t calm you, but you nod.

“Do not be afraid. I will not hurt you; you have my word.”

“If you’re real, then how do I know you won’t break your word?”

He scoffs and looks offended by such a suggestion. “I do not break my word.”

“Right. So, why are you in my dreams? What do you want?”

“I want you to help me further.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Help you do what?”

“Free me. Destroy the fence that keeps me locked in that field.”

“Why would I do that? You’re just going to hurt everyone in town?”

“So? They deserve it.”

“Does everyone know about this supposed sin their ancestors committed?”

He frowns and looks down at his feet. “No, but half of them do.”

“Fine. How about this, you haunt those people but leave the rest alone.”

“You wish to make a deal?”

“No, not a deal, an agreement. If you don't agree, you’ll stay in that fucking field.” You cross your arms and give him your most intimidating stare.

He laughs and nods his head. “Very well.”

“And, you can’t haunt me or do any spooky shit to me.”

The scarecrow nods. You hold your hand out for him to shake, but he looks down at it in confusion.

“Why do you offer me your hand?”

“To shake.”

“Shake?”

“Yes, it seals our agreement.”

He steps forward and pushes your hand away. He is so close to you and so very tall.

“I don’t shake to seal a deal.”

“It’s not a deal.”

“An agreement, then. But I don’t shake hands.”

“How do you seal a dea- an agreement.”

His arm wraps around your waist and he pulls you against his body. He’s thin and surprisingly solid. When your hands rest on his chest, you’re surprised at the warmth you feel coming from him. His free hand angles your face upwards. You lick your lips when he leans his face down to your own.

“I seal all deals and agreements with a kiss.”

Your eyes go wide and your mouth is suddenly dry.

“Do you consent?” he asked.

You swallow and nod. His surprisingly soft lips ghost over your own. It’s barely a kiss, barely anything at all. And when he begins to pull away, you surge forward and give him a proper kiss. He growls and his grip on your hip tightens. His tongue slips into your mouth and you can’t help but moan at the feel of it. Needing some friction, you attempt to grind yourself against him.

His hands settle on your back and he pulls you closer to his body. He grips the back of your shirt with one hand, while the other returns to your hip. You pull the straw hat off his head and run your fingers through his dark hair, pulling lightly at the base of his neck.

He growls and kisses his way down your neck to your shoulder. He sucks and bites the soft skin where your neck and shoulder meet. You’re a puddle in his hands, clinging to his shirt and pulling his hair, grinding yourself against him, begging for more. Needing more.

He pulls away with a soft laugh. When you whimper and pull at the front of his flannel, he hushes you. His hands cup your face and he places a soft kiss on your forehead. It does nothing to calm you; your heart is still pounding and your body feels like it’s on fire.

He nuzzles his face against the side of yours and leaves small kisses along your cheek and temple. “I know your body is burning, little one, but I cannot do much at the moment because of the fence. Break it, and I will show you my gratitude.”

Everything is hazy but his voice echoes loudly. You try to reach for him, eager to feel something, anything, that he might give you. Anything that will cool the burning desire in your body, but he’s moving away from you. You need him to cool the fire in your body. You need him.

You wake with a gasp and sit up straight in bed. The pounding in your chest and the sweat on your brow makes you think that was nothing more than a dream. A wild, slightly sexual dream, no doubt brought on by the lack of physical intimacy you’ve had lately.

However, that thought is swept away when you realize you’re clutching a familiar straw hat in your hand. You shoot out of bed and examine yourself in the mirror. On your hips are unnatural looking fingerprints and there’s an unmistakable bruise on your shoulder. Right where he was biting and sucking your skin. You can still feel his touch on your body.

You look out your window towards the field with the scarecrow. The morning sun is rising behind him, bathing the field in golden light. The scarecrow is still hanging up like he was yesterday, just minus the hat. It’s almost like nothing happened. But the need in your body and the voice in your head say otherwise. Not to mention the hat sitting on your bed.

You’re going to tear that fence down today.

[kyouxa]

Amnesia Later: Translation (Part 03)

I’m sorry, this took so long to translate because I was trying to figure out the rest of the gameplay and how I’ll continue to translate it! I’ll continue working on the choices, maybe even starting with Ikki because he’s the only one I started with yet. Please no reposting onto other sites, and please ask me before translating this into another language! Thanks. (´-ω-`)

August 12th

Place: Maid’s sheep — Outside

Orion: ...Ah. Everyone really seems to be on time.

Mine: No way! Senpai looks so cute~! You look amazing in this yukata!

...Looks like my rival picked a better one. I regret picking this one.

Rika: You should not talk like that as a woman, Mine-san. And it doesn’t make sense to lament individual beauty.

The summons are accumulated, every woman is as beautiful as a lily.

Orion: These two are looking really good in their yukata and the arrange they put into it is amazing as well.

However, no matter how you arranged it is, the yukata looks way more sober than usual for Rika...

Hey, after seeing this...

Sawa: Whaaat~! I really like that clothing style. It‘s so comfortable ~ I love this feeling.

Orion: If you look at Sawa you can totally see how refreshingly she looks, I wonder why this makes me feel relieved...

Toma: I think Shin and I choose suitable ones from the city center too.

I was pretty lost. We even had some disagreements that ended in another dispute.

Shin: All that happened just because of your stubbornness. Why would you choose what I need to wear?

Toma: I wasn’t trying to decide for you, but you tried to cram me into something that didn’t even fit me.

I even told you that my fingers started hurting, but you didn’t listen.

Shin: If you would have tried to put it on properly, I would’ve helped you.

Orion: Shin suddenly acts like an adult since he wears that yukata. The black yukata looks cool on him though.

Toma on the other side, looks like he just bought whatever he liked most from the store. Although he looks surprisingly good too.

Speaking of what suits you unexpectedly ...

Ikki: Your yukata, did you choose it with Toma and Shin? Haa, that is something sad to hear...

I would’ve been glad to choose it, if I knew you didn’t have one, but I failed.

Kent: Don’t let this matter depress you. That’s foolish, Ikyu. There is no point in choosing her yukata.

Orion: I’m surprised by these two. Ikki is wearing something stylish while Kent just looks like an ordinary student.

Ikki: There is no point in choosing the yukata itself, but wouldn’t it be nice if she’d wear the yukata you chose for her?

Kent: ...That is...

Ikki: Pleasant?

Kent: N-No... I’m just not interested in that kind of thing.

Ikki: That’s not the face of an uninterested man, Kent. 

Haa... it’s a true waste for me. Toma and Shin stole my opportunity.

Rika: Eh, your yukata was chosen from Toma-san!?

Hmph, then I want you to choose one for me too next time... !

He went around the stores that sell yukatas and tried his best to find the best yukata for this child!?

How annoying... !

Orion: .....

What’s up with her, is it because you’re liked by everyone? Wouldn’t that be a good thing...

Sawa: ... Hey you. Having everyone’s love and affection isn’t too tough to handle, right?

At least I have a serious sense of distance. I’m your friend after all!

Orion: ...Thank you for understanding and speaking of our feelings. I’m grateful for it…

They’re all either distancing or influencing people.

...Now I wonder where that distance keeping person is.

He was supposed to be our guide for today but he hasn’t come yet.

Waka: ...Ukyo. Why are you hiding yourself so far away from us?

Orion: Ah, is he here already?

Ukyo: N-No it’s not like I’m hiding myself, I just wanted to keep my distance from everyone for the time being!

Orion: We found Ukyo! ...It’s ordinary that he keeps his distance.

He only put his hair together and started wearing his yukata. He’s honestly looking a little suspicious like that.

Ukyo: From my point of view, I rather live in the shadows of the leaves and leave the open world to others. Like this morning and last morning.

Waka: From the last morning we saw each other to this morning, about 24h passed already.

It was you who offered his guidance today in the first place, it would be troublesome if you kept hiding yourself like that. 

Orion: I think so too. It may be difficult with Ukyo… so we should keep our distance.

Let’s not dig too deep into that today.

But the manager isn’t even wearing a yukata himself!!!

Orion: Ahhh I wish I could say that!! I want to rush into his body!! Why can’t he hear my voice?!

…Even if he calls himself “young” he looks terrible. I don’t understand him

Ukyo: ...Well then, it looks like everyone is ready to go.

Everyone, please don’t get too close but not too far away either, follow me in a raid where I can’t unpredictably attack anyone.

Place: Outside — Riverside

Ukyo: Ahh... that’s weird...

Rika: I don’t see any fireflies...

Sawa: We’ve been searching quite a bit... maybe they got scared because of the large number of people and escaped?

Ukyo: No, there is no such thing. Because if they had such a habit, there wouldn't be this custom thing called firefly hunting.

Toma: If so ... we still didn’t see anything 

Shin: Could it be that Ukyo chose the wrong place?

Ukyo: Uh... ngh!

Mine: Wasn’t Ukyo having a pretty bad direction sense in the first place?

Ukyo: ...B-But I still remember where I took the picture!

Waka: Well, it may be hard to identify the place at this wide riverside.

It is also possible that they could not stand the cold since yesterday. This would explain that it’s not the responsibility of Ukyo.

Ukyo: …I’m sorry. Really...

Kent: No, there’s no need to apologize. We took a walk along the road, meaningless but not bad.

Ikki: Like honestly. I was able to enjoy the sight the girls in their yukata so I’m good.

Shin: Does Ikki-san only have that kind of things in his head?

Toma: Hey, Shin… I’m sorry Ikki. This guy is one of the honest type.

Ikki: That’ fine because it’s the truth. But I wonder if Toma’s remarks are more worrisome.

Waka: Well then everyone. From here on you can move freely.

It’s a great night. You can enjoy chatting a little, or you can look for fireflies.

You can also get down and take a stroll along the river.

However, since it’s already night all our ladies shouldn’t walk around alone. Okay?

Orion: ...Okay… that’s for our investment. Who do you want to go with… ?

Choices

Ikki or Kent

Shin or Toma

Ukyo or Manager

The other girls