#and block out or avoid the stuff that drives you crazy and makes you rage | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alliswell21 · 5 years ago

Note

fanfic mashup: 70 & 30 everlark please 🤗

Hi @lvfics! Sorry this took me so long. It’s been a crazy month, and I’m still trying to get back into my rhythm to no avail. Hope you enjoy this little piece.

70-Locked in a room+ 30-Holiday fic 🥳

Peeta Mellark sighs, sitting across from me on top of a bundle of toilet paper rolls, while I bang the underside of my fist on the thick, metal door of the storage room we are currently trapped in.

The music outside is too loud, nobody hears my calls.

Peeta toys with his cellphone, but of course, we have no signal in this cursed box of cinder blocks and metal.

Ugh! I hate college!

Not really. I hate college parties, and I hate that my plan to avoid the party and the people dancing the night away, backfired on me. My plan was so clever too: run between the storage room and the commons area where the party is raging on, dispersing paper goods like cups and plates, looking hella busy, only stopping to make sure people were using every item I’ve bring out indiscriminately, so I had an excuse to disappear again under the guise of restocking utensils.

Yeah, yeah… is environmentally irresponsible of me and normally I’d be angry at the wastefulness and more than likely protest against it, but I figured I could feel ashamed of my actions later and atone for my participation in this pollution by cleaning up the building, separating the recycling and whatnot; but being locked up from the outside in this tiny space with none other than Peeta “F-ing” Mellark of all people, has to be Karma already collecting payback.

The only consolation— if any— is that he looks as uncomfortable and uneasy as I feel; so there’s that.

“Hopefully you did a poorer job with the bathrooms than you did the rest of the party.” He finally says, giving me a shy, crooked smile that makes my stomach twist unpleasantly.

I purse my lips trying to decipher the insult in his words, because surely he’s trying to insult me with that comment… right?

“What do you mean?” I ask sharply.

He frowns for a second, but smiles again and that stupid dimple of his makes an appearance to mock me. “Well, I doubt they’ll run out of napkins any time soon, but at some point people will need to visit the restroom.”

I stare at him still not grasping his meaning. He smiles sweetly, and gestures vaguely at the door.

“With all the spiked soda and contraband alcohol out there… at some point people will file into the bathrooms, and then…” he pats the bundle of toilet paper he’s using as a chair. “They’ll need this babies. I’m banking on bathroom goers to rescue us.”

He sounds almost sad. I can’t help myself, and point it out in my most sarcastic tone. “Yeah, and then you’ll be back out there being the life of the soirée.”

Peeta shakes his head smiling ruefully at me. “Nah, I only came here to deliver some baked goodies for the dessert table, because spiked punch needs something sweet to go down with, and to see—“ He stops abruptly, his ears turning crimson. He shifts on his throne of toilet paper uncomfortably, “Man, is it hot in here?”

I stare at him through narrowed eyes. “Is New Years Eve, Peeta. This room is like a freaking igloo with barely any ventilation.” I mumble.

Peeta looks startled for a second, but his smile is on— full force— the next. “You know my name, Katniss. I wasn’t sure you knew who I was until now.” He says with a teasing smile.

I’m too stunned by the way he almost caresses my name with his tongue when says it to replay right away, but after shaking my head of the cobwebs, I snort derisively.

“Please. We’ve been in the same classes since kindergarten. Of course I know your name, even if I never had reason to speak to you before.” And is true. However, I dislike how wistful I sounded saying it.

His brows twitch. “Then it’s a right piece of luck I forgot to bring serving tongs for the pastries. We would’ve never end up meeting here and getting locked up together.”

I study his face, but he looks dead serious, leading me to believe he actually means it. “So, you’re glad we are trapped in this shoe box together?” I ask suspiciously, finally stepping away from the door and sliding onto the hard, cold floor. “Why?”

Peeta looks away for a moment, and then asks a question of his own, not responding mine. “How come you stayed at school for the holidays?” He pauses for a second, looking embarrassed, though his tone wasn’t mean or mocking, but curious. “Never mind. I don't mean to pry on your business. I just know you have your family at home…” he inhales deeply, “I’ll shut up now, before I embarrass myself further.”

The silence is tense for minute. Peeta going back to toy with his useless phone, while I can’t stop staring at him.

I’m not sure why, but I talk. “My sister went on a skiing trip with her best friend and her family to Utah. My mother took double shifts at her hospital, and... I didn’t feel like sitting home alone. I knew a few of the older students were staying for the undergrad stuff, and I decided, why not?! I could pick up some hours working at the cafe. Those student loans won’t pay themselves you know.”

He finally gives a wry chuckle, looking up at me again, and I can’t help the tiny smile I return to him.

“Mmm. So, how about you? Why did you stay behind?” I ask him.

“Oh…” He smiles uneasy, scratching the back of his neck, “I didn’t stay. I’m expected to work at the bakery every time I’m on school break, I just keep coming every evening to hang out.”

“Why? Wouldn’t it be nicer to just relax at home instead of driving back and forth two hours every day?”

“Yeah…” He releases a nervous chuckle. “But, there's one person here I kinda want to see.”

“Oh…” My stomach drops. Disappointment and some other ugly feelings twist in my chest. For how much I like to pretend I’m indifferent to Peeta Mellark, finding out he likes somebody enough to keep making the awful drive from our home town to our school every evening to just see them, depresses me. “I’m sorry you’re stuck in this storage room with me instead of hanging out there with them.”

More humorless laughter. “Actually, the one person I’m talking about is not out there.”

Now I’m confused. “Did they leave? I’m sorry.” I’m honestly sorry for him. I realize I don't want him to feel as disappointed as I feel about him liking someone else, even if I’m not ready to accept that I like him.

Peeta surprises me by laughing, a real, full laugh. “Oh, Katniss… you really have no clue, do you?”

My hackles go up instantaneously, but before the blunt, cutting words I’m about dish out to him can make it to my lips, somebody shouts outside and everything goes quiet for a second, before frantic, excited noises fill the air back. Then at once, people start counting, at least that’s what it sounds like from where we sit, and then Peeta’s looking at his phone’s screen.

“It’s 11:59. I’m guessing we are a few seconds from midnight.”

I nod.

“Listen, Katniss.” He slides to the floor, in front of me. “I know we’ve never talked before, and I might come off as stalkerish, but… since you have no reason to know this…” he inhales painfully, “It’s you. Who I come to see every evening. Ater closing up the bakery back home, I hope on my truck and drive back here, just to catch a glance of you. If even for a few seconds. I’ve been praying for the courage to speak to you since we were kids…”

“Without success,” I say, flatly, because I have no idea what else to do.

“Without success.” He agrees wryly. “I don’t want to scare you off. I just… had a crush on you since we were five, and you sang The Valley song in music class… I was a goner, and then—“

“Peeta,” I try to stop him, my voice soft, but he won’t have it; it seems that all those years of silence now worked as fuel for his word vomit.

“I’d see you with your sister around town from my window in the bakery. I must’ve attended all your archery competitions—“

“Peeta, really—“

“I mean, you were pretty intimidating already, and then you became an archery champion. So I took up archery, because I figured if we had that in common it would be like a segue way into getting to know you—“

“Peeta…”

“But I sucked at aiming! I could never hit the targets. It was a disaster, and then—“

“PEETA!” I surprise even myself when I forcibly take his face into both my hands and plant a resounding kiss on his lips, both our eyes are wide open in shock, and when I sever our liplock there’s a tiny pop.

Peeta’s blue eyes are still big as saucers, staring at me, looking like he just got bopped on the head with something heavy.

“The midnight countdown,” I rasp out, “They got to one…” I swallow, thickly.

“Oh.” Is all he says for an awkward second, “I'm sorry I missed it. I… I could’ve done so much better if had just shut up when you said.”

“It’s okay.” I say flustered. And since tonight I’m out of my freaking mind— and I blame all this on Peeta’s confession avalanche— I keep talking almost without breathing. “My watch is a minute behind it seems. We’ll get a do over.”

Then the brightest smile lifts up his whole face. “Really?” He asks dreamily, “Will you allow me to kiss you then?”

“I’ll allow it. But just because my watch is slow.” My watch is not slow, and I don’t even look at it when I start counting back from five.

Peeta reaches for my face now, his fingers gently caressing my cheek and then, he presses his lips to mine once more, softly, and more tenderly than my approach earlier.

I think this a good trade in. He can lack dexterity and accuracy with a bow and arrow, as long as he can kiss me like I’m the only person on the planet.

“Happy New Year, Katniss.” Peeta whispers against my lips, smiling.

“Happy New Year, Peeta.” I breathe him in, because I can’t lie to myself anymore, I’ve been crushing on him since forever too. “Don’t expect me to take initiative with the next step too. If you want us to date, you’ll have to ask me out yourself. Okay?”

He chuckles before kissing me again, “You got yourself a deal, ma’am.”

#everlark fanfiction #my fics #mash up

69 notes · View notes

kookiecookiefics-blog · 5 years ago

Text

Hiraeth (m) II kth : Chapter 1.

HIRAETH (M) II kth

~Pairing: Taehyung x SerialKiller!Reader

~Genre: Angst, a lot of it. Smut. Gore. Violence. Fluff in between the lines. Slow build-up.

~Warnings: Blood, lots of it. Depictions of murder. Yoongi x Reader smut-ish. This chapter is pretty basic.

~words: 2.1k

~chapters: 1

~A/N: Yeah so, pretty basic for now. It is my first fan-fiction so I am kinda nervous hehe. I was supposed to post this in December but I totally forgot about my exams so here I am posting it a whole month later. Enjoy xoxo

~Beta readers: @moonpeachhy @smileyoongle @starry-sky-1 and my one other precious friend. MY HUGE PILLARS OF SUPPORT OMG.

_______________________________________________________________________

You killed Jimin. You took a razor and slowly drove it into his carotid artery and watched him bleed. He couldn’t speak nor he could scream, he just bled until he died. You loved him even though he hurt you. You loved him way too much. He didn’t deserve you and anybody didn’t deserve him. This was 6 months ago.

Jimin was the boyfriend you regretted but couldn't let go. He was sweet, charismatic, empathetic and a complete ladies' man, the latter being his weakness. He cheated, more than once and merged with his fate.

The next one to go was your friend Namjoon. You knew he could not swim; you knew he was an extremely clumsy person, so under the guise of a friendly outing and successfully getting him drunk you pushed him off the cliff standing high above the sea; your hangout spot filled with that memories you cherished in the past. You could say that you and Namjoon were close friends. You did know each other since you were 16. He was a huge supporter and a kind friend. You were inseparable until he started ditching your company in favour of his girlfriend. She was all he talked about. You could not bear it so you shut him up. Yes, you missed him but getting rid of toxicity felt good. This was 4 months ago.

Namjoon was smarter than you, wiser than you in all aspects. You were almost jealous.

Almost.

His presence made you feel weaker. A lesser person, more like a sidekick or a tail. It suffocated your instincts and thoughts to a point where the friendship turned into hatred and hence, Namjoon had to go.

For your sake, he just had to.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Killing became a hobby. A thrilling hunt that boosted adrenaline in your veins. You killed mercilessly, luring a man through your charms, seducing a boy with your body. The glassy look in their eyes when you took their lives made you ecstatic.

Just yesterday at the nightclub near the city you met a delicious prey. His sharp jaw highlighted his face, his eyes small but gazing and his luscious lips were to be craved for. You were tempted, so tempted. You wanted to take him then and there. You made your way towards the bar with a strut that made you intentions very clear. You caressed his shoulders, his strong arms the smooth skin on his palm. The slutty exchanges began. Your introductions along with limitless flirting downed with multiple shots of alcohol.

“Yoongi, I like it, it rolls of your tongue” You cooed in his ear. You felt him tense under your touch. He could feel the thick atmosphere of sexual tension you were creating.

Within the next hour. You had him sprawled in front of you, with you straddling his hips and his hands tied together with his tie to the cracked wooden bedpost of some dingy motel right around the same block.

“Y/N....please, touch me I can’t take it” He begged. His cock straining hard over his trousers waiting for any kind of touch.

“Shhhhhhh......quite now and behave or else...” You cockily say while grabbing the hem of your shirt and take it off in one swift motion. Your breasts perk up and nipples hard. You can see him drooling at the sight. You grabbed his collar and with a hard ripping tug you tore the buttons right of his shirt exposing his milky smooth skin and nipples perked from the cold outside and his arousal. You traced you palms over his abs and slowly traced it higher to pinch his nipples earning another moan from him.

You bent over him grinding your ass over his raging boner.

“Open your mouth” you ordered and he obediently agreed. Instantly grabbed his chin and met his tongue with yours in a heated kiss. Your tongue rolled into his warm cheeks tasting him and your lips leaving with a string of saliva connecting you two. You traced his earlobes with your tongue. “You’ve ruined my shirt” He breathes.

“Oh! you won’t need it anymore” You chuckle into his ear as you slowly reach into your pocket to take out your newly sharpened swiss knife.

You see the lust leave his eyes the moment he sees the shiny glint of the knife resting in your hand.

“Woah! Is this some kind of kink that you’re not telling me about? I am sorry I am not comfortable with this” He snickers.

“Blood kinda makes me squeamish”

“Oh, sweet baby, this is not a kink” You clamp his mouth shut with your other hand and watch him trying to scream inside as you trace the knife over his chest leaving tiny cuts here and there. You treat his torso like a canvas while you see tears run down his face. He tries to free his hands but the pain makes it impossible. You torture him with your knife carving his skin with deep red sketches. You gently bite into his neck, licking over the bite with your tongue and soon you replace your tongue with the sharp point of you knife. You slowly push it inside and feel him shake under you, convulsing and the knife gently drives into his carotid spraying blood on your hands and the bed sheets below and soon comes to a still, lifeless state.

You pull the knife out from his neck. The silver blade now shines with a deep shade of red. You get up from his corpse and walk over the bathroom cleaning all the stains of blood from your hands and torso and after grabbing your stuff you slowly head over to the body and tear a piece of his shirt as a souvenir, adding another to your growing collection. Still drowning in your desire for danger, you manage to clean your fingerprints from all the places you touched and head out, for a mess to be discovered soon, hopefully.

“Miss! Excuse me! Miss!” a shout tears through your years almost petrifying you amidst your escape.

The receptionist.

Well not exactly a ‘receptionist’, more like a guy with a huge beer belly and a six-pack of Coors sitting on a creaky wooden desk, an exceptionally creepy man reeking of alcohol who probably owns this place.

“A pretty lady like you done using the room so soon? The guy couldn't get it up eh? What a shame. Come here sit with me, have a beer! Let me show you a good time” he bellows out scratching his crotch and flashing his obvious boner under his pants.

Ugh.

You were not in the mood to kill two guys today. You liked a hunt, a game that gave you the adrenaline high and the power over someone. Pure entertainment to be honest. You did not want to wash your knife again. He is just going to be collateral damage; he was not going to keep quiet. You had to, you just had to kill him.

You walked over to him, his grin getting wider and wider in the hope of getting some good time.

“Do you promise to show me a good time, sir?” You say oh so innocently as well as cringing at your own choice of words as you take his bottle of beer from his hands to carefully take a swig of the bitter sparkly liquid.

You set the bottle aside on his desk and move over to his chair to carefully straddle his thighs and carefully and immediately remove your shirt slowly completely teasing him. You feel his hard on pressing against your core, almost making you throw up. 5 minutes. This whole ordeal will pass in 5 minutes. Just go with the flow.

Luckily pervs like him and crazy over boobs, you calmly unclasp your bra and smirk. His jaw dropped so wide it could touch the ground.

��Wow I did not know you were this easy” He whispers grabbing a handful of your soft mounds.

Without a second to waist you run your fingers through his hair and smash.

Smash is head into the wall behind his chair with as much might you could muster.

Again.

And again.

Blood splashes over your breasts and neck. He’s obviously dead, no one can survive a blow like that multiple times. With the tissues lying next to the empty beer bottle you wipe the sprinkles of blood away.

Phew. That was.... something you’ve never done before. It felt good.

It felt really good.

You dress again, succeeding in avoiding all the blood that could’ve ruined your clothes. You clean the scene again like a routing and smash the beer bottle you had sip from into pieces to avoid all the fingerprints. That’s a wrap for today, I guess.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s been a month since Yoongi, your last victim. Life was getting boring. The café you owned at the library quarters did well but it was routine work of roasting the same beans and brewing the same coffee. You don’t even know why you were so invested in a café, you hate coffee, frankly, it is just bitter water. The café did well, apparently reading and coffee were a good pair.

Libraries always seemed to be filled with smart boring people and hard-working students. You often wondered how picking up a book and reading it would feel like.

“Man is the most dangerous game of all”

Yes, but it’s not a game when they’re so easy to latch onto. You want a hunt, not a fishing picnic.

Life. The word is extremely versatile when it comes to definitions. Difficult, adventure, survival but today looks like it’ll be exciting.

You see him.

Oh my.

A tall man with golden honey skin and curly brown locks of hair. His sculpted face adorned with classy looking black-rimmed glasses and thin pouty pink lips. He is carrying a shit ton of notebooks along with a set of newspapers. You notice him all day. People come and go ordering their espressos or flat white and you catch yourself stealing glances at him.

He is dedicated to his work, not distracting himself for hours researching something on and on via his newspapers and the glory of the internet. He seemed smart. A good target? Maybe. He does not seem like the kind who would be fooled or jump into bed with you, no he is too smart for that. You start your fantasy train, entrapping him, betraying him and killing him the same way you killed Yoongi. The chase you were imagining looked promising and very very exciting.

Shit.

And there your eyes finally meet. He sees you, doing nothing at the booth.

It is time to scramble. You immediately reach for a mug to clean but your butterfingers successfully manage to drop it with a loud crash in a quiet library. You bend down to pick up the mess but you can feel all the eyes staring at you for the disturbance caused.

You clean the mess up, picking the shattered pieces one by one and throwing them in the trash. What an embarrassing way to get his attention.

“Hi, excuse me, miss”

The voice catches you by surprise. He is standing right there at the booth with his long brown jacket donned and all his stuff gathered. Startled you get up, wiping your hands hastily on the apron.

“Hi, I am so sorry about that. How can I help you?” You say putting on a smile you could make as charming as possible.

“Can I get a latte? A little stronger than usual and hold the sugar please.”

“Sure. Your name please?” You say holding out a cup and a marker.

“Taehyung”

And there you set off to make the best cup of coffee in your life.

Taehyung.

You had to impress him. Your fingers work delicately with the cup at every step and make the prettiest foam heart you could usually never make and hand it over to him.

He thanks you with a cute little boxy smile. Oh, my God. You are infatuated. You had to see him again but then you see it. A couple of newspapers left forgotten on the counter.

It was scribbled on.

“Murderer went cold. Last victim: Min Yoongi”

The articles were circled, notes were jotted down.

This is going to be a GREAT game, isn’t it?

#bts #btsfanfiction #btsfanfic #bts smut #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop smut #taehyung smut #yoongi smut #bts fanfic #taehyung #yoongi

16 notes · View notes

bnha-scenerios-imagines · 6 years ago

Note

I'm not sure if you do really dark stuff so tell me if you aren't going to do it. Can I get Headcanon on bakugou, Todoroki, and kirishima finding out that their lover/friend was kidnapped and each day they don't find them the kidnappers would send a picture of their lover/friend getting tortured in a dark twisted way like poking sharp needles into their body or getting dropped multiple times from high places. I need to calm my mind down... I'm sorry if this is disturbing for you...

Warning: Dark themes ahead.

I hope you don’t mind, I didn’t make it as dark as you wanted but I tried to meet halfway if that’s alright. I also made it with a kind of happy ending.

Bakugou

When he sees the first video, showing you getting kidnapped, it’s shown on all the TV’s, computer screens, phone screens. Everyone sees it. It’s a statement, a move to show that the heroes, that Bakugou, isn’t as strong as they all claim to be.

He’s beyond angry, hands shaking. He’s both fuming with rage and shaking with fear. They took you from him.

The next video is sent privately to him. To his phone. He’s gritting his teeth as he sees you laying on the floor unmoving.

He tells his company what happened and shows them the evidence.

He does what he can, tapping into cell towers, computers, your phone. He gets nothing.

The updates on your situation keep coming and he just gets angrier and angrier. His mood worsens and no one wants to even talk with him.

He can’t bear to look at the videos or pictures anymore. He completely hands his phone over to his supervisor and tells them to watch it. He’s just done.

He doesn’t stop working until they find you. He spends sleepless nights looking over everything they've found, spending days looking for you.

When he does finally find you he beats the person to a pulp. They can barely stand without some part of their body collapsing on them. No one tries to stop him, they hide what he did under the mat and instead cuff the villain and throw him into a police car while Bakugou moves to untie you.

He doesn’t let go of you, holding you tight against him as you sob into his chest. He apologizes to you in a hushed tone as he tells you he’s here. He’s here and he won’t let you go.

Not over his dead body.

Todoroki

When he first sees the video of you being kidnapped his quick kinda... just starts up on its own. He’s freezing his phone and burning the carpet at the same time.

He’s already quite intimidating so the fact that he seems even more stern and stiff than before makes everyone avoid him completely.

He’s angry he couldn’t save you. He’s scared that he won’t find you and even if he does you may not even be alive by then. His mind is racing with scenarios of what could be happening to you right now. What that villain is doing to you.

Everytime he gets another picture or video of you being abused he feels his left side heat up and his right side cool to the point it’s unbearable.

He doesn’t spend much time sleeping, when he does it’s only for a bit and then he’s back at work, trying to find you. He asks for footage from blocks down buildings that you could be in. He watches your kidnapping video multiple times, hoping to find something that could lead him to you.

When he finds the villain who’s been hurting you, sending videos of you to torture him, he has to hold himself back from just, freezing him. Instead, he knocks him unconscious, his fire burning his side as he throws himself into your bruised body.

Your hands shake as soon as he rips the ropes from your limbs, holding you close, running his hands through your hair, trailing his hands down your face. He missed you, spent so many nights driving himself crazy just to find you.

He doesn’t let you go, always touching you in some way. His hand holding yours on the way to the hospital, his bad pressed against the wall next to your room as he waits for the word to go in and his fingers pressing against your pulse as you smile up at him despite being bloodied, broken, and bruised.

Kirishima

He’s angry with himself, his hands clenched so hard that blood began to pool in the palm of his hands. The video played once again, rage running through his veins.

As others tried to consul the optimistic redhead others stayed clear. Not so much in fear but more so to give him space, time to think about what had happened.

You meant so much to him. You were his life, his future. He wanted to have a future with you. He wanted to get married, maybe have kids, he hasn’t decided on that yet.

As more videos and photos of you being beaten and bruised flood his phone every day his anger rises. He can’t even focus. He has to turn his phone off and force himself to take cold showers, thinking about possible places you could be.

He has one of those stereotypical red yarn boards linking to pictures of where you’ve last been seen, where you were kidnapped and where he could go from there.

He can’t sleep, mostly moving on energy drinks and adrenaline.

When he does eventually confront who had hurt you it’s a brutal fight, he goes all out. He stops after breaking the man’s nose.

He knows it doesn’t do justice for what he’s done for you but it brings a sense of relief when he sees him and handcuffs.

He opens the door to the small room you were shoved into and the way you cower into the corner just simply breaks his heart. Your clothes are torn and burnt, your hands dirtied and bleeding. You're bruised all over but when you look up to see him standing there, the light falling over him like he’s some sort of angel. It gives you enough strength to stand up.

Kirishima picks you up at that moment, placing kisses all over your face as he holds you close, your arms wrapped around him as you allow yourself to freely cry.

He doesn’t leave you after that, not even letting you go until a doctor has to examine you and even then, he holds your hand.

557 notes · View notes

all-of-the-imagines-for-eve · 6 years ago

Text

Forget About It ~ Sweet Pea (Part 1)

A/n: Whoa I kinda died huh? Got sucked into IT for a long time. And then the Umbrella Academy happened. And then I got hit with MAJOR depression and really heavy, bad vibes from all the dark stuff and tried to get super engrossed in lighter stuff like My Babysitter’s a Vampire but then that show ended in the DUMBEST way so in desperation I’ve returned for my fluff ball of love. Prepare for emotions.

Warnings. A! N! G! S! T! Arguing. Awkwardness. Violence, threatening, Archie Andrew’s weird red circle and gun phases. Panic attack. Fear. Betrayal. Abandonment. Archie Andrews being an idiot actually-

Pairings: Sweet Pea x Female Andrews!Reader

Song: "Forget About It" by All Time Low

Word Count: 4800+

MASTERLIST

One, two, three! You, are a handful of roses, thorns in a cheap bouquet. True, I'm a walkin' disaster- they told you to stay away. Seems like I'm makin' a deal with the devil who's whispering softly to me, "Are you sure that she's the one?"

You’d think things were insane enough as it is. But, no, my brother was nothing if he wasn’t one to add on top of already existing problems. The Black Hood was out there somewhere, closing in and leaving a path of destruction in his wake. Our dad was in a bed recovering from a shot wound and I couldn’t get my brother to eat or sleep let alone put down the pure - kind of terrifying - insanity with the whole Red Circle stuff. After the video, I’d been keeping a close eye on Archie, going as far as to stalk him. Following him around. Checking his phone. If I did sleep, I slept very close to where he was. I was so worried and cautious that it made me crazy... the problem was that I was right.

Despite the fact that I had reason to act the way I did, we’d still been getting into more fights recently and I felt like a jealous, controlling girlfriend he was about to break up with any second... but I also felt absolutely terrified. I was watching my brother - the Mr. Cute and Perfect I’d always admired and looked up to and wanted to be and leaned on and depended on (some kids asked what mom or dad or Jesus would do, but my first thought used to be, "What would Archie do?") - fall apart, piece by piece. I found myself falling apart with him.

So, despite the million reasons to stay back and take care of myself and my friends (who were also seriously struggling), I found myself helicopter hovering over my dumbass older brother, staying on his heels even as he brought both of us into the South Side.

Initially he caught me off guard, tricking me into feeling complacent, sending me in to make dinner just to sneak off with a big black bag. It wasn’t until I finished the grilled cheese sandwiches that I returned to where I’d left him, only to find him gone. I tore through the whole house but... no sign. Because of my close attentiveness of my brother, I knew about absolutely everything. I hadn’t told anyone in fear of getting him in trouble, but I knew. I knew him so well these days that it was as if it was my own mind with my own ideas telling me to go to the South Side when I asked myself, "What would Archie do?" It made me flinch to realize that for the first time, I wasn’t doing the good thing. The honorable thing. I wasn’t using Archie as an example to be better. I was stooping to the level he’d lowered himself to, just to find him and drag his moronic, seemingly psychotic self back home and smack some damn sense into him.

And so, sleep deprived and hungry and ANGRY, I found myself running full speed as I spotted my red haired brother so I could catch up with him as he spray painted a wooden door with a huge red circle. Oh god...

Catching his arm, I pulled him away from the door. "Archie what the HELL?" I screeched.

He didn’t seem to register me for a beat but when it clicked, he was only looking at me a second. "Y/n? What are you-?" His eyes left me fluidly as if he hadn’t been that focused on me to begin with. His arm dropped to wrap around me, scooting me behind him. I turned around to see three boys approaching. It was dark, but I recognized the look of the jackets and one of their faces seemed very briefly familiar. With Archie setting me on edge, I’d spent more time with Betty and Jughead before I’d full deep dived into watching him. I’d met Toni once and these boys had that vibe. That look. Not something that was physical, like most people would see, but a way they carried themselves. The way the confidence and power settled in their hands and in their expressions. Something you could sense. Could feel in the very air around them. They were strong, at home, and in complete control.

Serpents.

I’d never been scared of the Serpents. I feared them in a respectful way. I kept my distance and my head down. I’d seen them at the Drive In before it closed down and, as previously mentioned, I’d met Toni one other time. So I’d seen them around, but I’d always kept my distance. Toni was a serpent but she was small and a generally sweet person who avoided trouble when she could. She was almost comfortable to be around. Real and genuine- a breath of fresh air after living in a plastic world that demanded too much at too high a price. A world that demanded perfection. Toni was pleasant to be around, even when she was pissed at Jughead- I usually sided with her anyway just because I thought everyone was dumb most days. These erpents weren't Toni though. Not in anyway. These Serpents were tall and built and terrifying. I felt myself cowering behind Archie as I would at school as he blocked me from Cheryl or Reggie. Archie had always been my protector and even in his unstable mental state I still had a sliver of faith in him.

"What the hell are you doing?" The tallest snapped in a commanding voice that made me swallow hard after a lump formed in my throat.

Archie shook his head and my eyes flickered to the spray can in his hands. "Hey back off, I’m not here for you." I tugged on his arm and he seemed ready to move on and past the boys, maybe more because I was here than he felt done with how well he’d made his bold, red statement.

"Oh yeah?" The tall Serpent sneered. "Then who’s this message for?" He motioned to the paining on the door and I gulped again, still trying to get rid of that lump in my throat. This was gonna get ugly. Archie’s body tensed under my hands. When the boy realized what Archie had painted, his voice grew quieter, and it seemed even scarier than the loud aggressiveness he’d spoken with before. The calm before the storm. The hiss before the bite. "Aw, hell, don’t tell me this is for the Black Hood?" I cringed at the name of my father’s almost murderer and the boy looked at me, an eyebrow popping up. I tugged on Archie’s arm again but he was refusing to budge. The boy’s words were getting under Archie’s skin. My anxiety was rising. After Archie realized the boy was looking at me he moved to block me better. The Serpent’s attention returned to the tagging. "You believe this guys?" He asked his friends mockingly. "And people say we’re the troublemakers." There was a pause as Archie silently tried to move past them to make a show of his man power or whatever. Too scared to approach I let go of him, staying where I was. I was relieved when they caught him, the tall one uttering a, “Whoa," as they did so. The trouble was still brewing, the steam and bubbles of the boiling water slamming against the lid and threatening to explode any second... but at least I wasn’t alone. "South Side Serpent country," the boy eased. But then his voice changed again. Threatening. Heavy. Dark. Dripping with anger and unspoken threats... No, not threats. Promises. "You can’t come here and tag our turf." I suddenly felt sick, realizing that Archie was trying to KEEP GOING when all I wanted to do was go home. What drugs was he ON?! "So get your ass back to the North Side," the Serpent continued venomously. His eyes found me again as a I took a step back, trying to become smaller and smaller until I could just disappear. "Before someone gets hurt."

My eyes went wider, my blood running cold. Maybe Archie could fight these guys off but I couldn't. "Arch," I whispered. "You shouldn't have come here, let's just-"

"Get out of my way,” Archie seethed, cutting me off. His breathing was ragged and I took another step back, startled by how Archie suddenly felt even more a threat then the Serpents he was facing.. "Or someone will get hurt."

The Serpent stepped forward, inhaling to speak again and I found myself panicking, surging forward to place myself between them. The Serpent stepped back but Archie was solid. I wondered if he even recognized that it was me standing there or if he just thought of me as an obstacle. My body began shaking, my eyes staring holes into my brother’s skull. "Archie, this is crazy," I croaked out. "Let’s go home. You’ve caused enough trouble for one night. You made your point. PLEASE!"

The Serpent smiled. "Listen to the girl. Go run home to daddy before things get ugly." And he drew a knife, the blade hoverijg near my arm.

Well shit.

I felt it before I saw it. Felt my brother’s arms move, felt the air snap and change as the tension broke and Archie’s last chord of either self control or sanity - or perhaps simply both - flew free of it’s tethering post, no longer holding Archie back. The gun was in his hand, the barrel sliding back loudly in my ear to make sure we all knew it was loaded. I choked on a scream and stumbled back, toward the Serpents. "Who made the mistake? WHO MADE THE MISTAKE?!"

“Arch-" I tried. But then his eyes turned on me and I tripped, taking more steps backward. He looked so angry. So driven by pure rage and so far past a simple breaking point that I didn’t see my brother anymore. The Archie I knew and loved and looked up to was simply... gone. And a monster was in his place. It wasn’t the gun that scared me, but the maniac that wielded it. I expected the barrel to suddenly turn and point at me, his hand to come down on the trigger. I whimpered, the sound high and quiet and wet.

I tripped, falling on my ass, and cried out in pain. That seemed to knock Archie out of it. The tears started to fall and I curled in on myself, arms over my head and knees pulled to my chest. I was crying an shaking violently. I’d been under too much pressure with the looming threat of a murder leisurely wandering around my town on top of almost losing my father to have the human equivalent of my security blanket turn violent against me. I felt a hand on my arm and I squealed, cringing away from it and shaking harder. "I..." Archie whispered. "I’m sorry." And then in a last bang of blazing idiocy, to top off all of the shit he’d pulled tonight, he left me. Alone. Mid breakdown. At night. On the South Side. WITH Serpents. After he’d waved a gun around and it had been established that we were both North Siders and knew each other.

When nothing happened I slowly looked up. The three Serpents were in front of me, the tall one still holding the drawn blade. "Please don’t hurt me," I croaked out. "You have no reason not to, but, please..." My habds reached out, palms open as if to push him away. My habds shook in the air.

Instantly the boy’s face softened. He kneeled down in front of me, his hand reaching out. My eyes flew to the blade and he frowned, withdrawing his hand. He held the knife out in front of me and then turned it, holding the blade toward him and offering it to me. I looked between him and it a few times. "Take it," he encouraged. "That way you won’t feel defenseless."

My head popped up so my words wouldn’t be muffled as I spoke softly. "I don’t want to hurt you either. Can we just agree not to hurt each other? I don’t want a knife just as I don’t want you to have a knife pointed at me. Why is it always violence with you people? God..."

The boy seemed to grow five years younger than when he had faced Archie, his face relaxing even more in surprise this time. He tilted his head, intrigued, and then the blade was gone and he put the sheathed weapon in his pocket. "Look, you’re cold and scared and... why are you out here?"

My face darkened. "My brother is a fucking psychopath," I spat. Emotions were ramming against my insides, controlled but painful to keep in. And after losing Archie to whatever madness he’d finally succumbed to, this boy no longer looked at all threatening. I wanted to trust him and he looked so human and normal and kind that I let myself trust him, even though a small part of the back of my brain screamed hysterically for me to keep being diligent. Even if he was a good person, he was still a Serpent and this place was still dangerous. He could turn on me any second. He was a stranger. And yet I ignored that part of my brain and trusted him anyway. "Came to stop him. Save him, maybe. From himself." My eyes unfocused as I stared through my fingers, past the boy who's name I still didn't know. "Guess I forgot to keep myself safe." I whispered that, my voice sounding far away and almost distorted.

Heavy silence fell and it was weird to feel so comfortable with these boys when just ten minutes ago I’d placed Archie between us as protection. So much had changed in just a minute. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling anymore. Except cold. I was feeling cold. I shivered again, more forcefully. The boy sighed, hanging his head for a second before looking at his friends and then back at me. "My name is Sweet Pea. Can you trust me?" I paused and then shrugged, nodding. "It’s late. Do you want to go home? I can take you..." my eyes went wide and he nodded. "Thought so. Is there anyone at home you should be worried about keeping him alone with?" I shook my head. Despite his breakdown, Archie wouldn’t shoot our dad. The boy nodded, moving and shifting around. I realized what was happening when he put his jacket around me, moving to my side. My hands were still in the air and it felt silly but my body was locked, unresponding. "Will you come with me? I know we’re strangers but I’m not gonna leave some little thing like you to roam around the South Side and find some hole to sleep in because you’re too scared to go home." He pressed his hand against mine, using touch to knock me out of it. My other hand dropped, my body relaxing. He was warm. "I won’t hurt you, okay? I just want you to be safe." He was quiet and gentle and when our eyes met, I felt... I couldn't put a name to it.

I nodded and he stood, pulling me after him. Our hands dropped away from each other. I looked at him, cocking my head. "Why are you helping me? My brother just..." my throat closed, refusing to allow me to say it.

Sweet Pea frowned. "He’s a genuine lunatic, sure. But you’re terrified and shaken up real bad." He paused. "I guess I can’t look at a lost person and not offer my help."

Our eyes met again and we stared at each other with mutual intrigue, like we saw something in the other that drew us in and was confused by it. I was suddenly realizing he looked different than when I first saw him, more than just younger abd less intense. The strength that accompanied the kindness in Toni was mirrored perfectly in Sweet Pea. A big, friendly giant. I was stunned to remember that his tall, muscly build had scared me before. He was so gentle and kind. I don’t know what he saw in me, but two strangers had met and suddenly become acquaintances under a truce in a split second. Half of me felt it was deliciously dangerous, dancing like this with a Serpent. The other half of me was tired and wanted to feel safe, just for a second. Both sides agreed that it was odd that I found that need for safety in the dark color of his eyes. "Yeah," I voiced finally. "Yeah that’s okay." Sweet Pea nodded, his hand moving to my back to guide me with the smallest amount of pressure he could while still applying it at all. I stepped closer to him, taking comfort in his warmth. His hand pressed harder to me, more protective.

I don’t know what just happened, but this definitely would not be the last time I would see Sweet Pea. I wouldn’t allow it.

Amidst all the chaos, I found myself on the South Side a lot more than I had reason to be. The night Sweet Pea and I met, he took me home. I collapsed on the couch, curling in a ball and hiding under his jacket. There was a pause before he mumbled, "I was gonna offer you the bed but... okay." I thought he was going to be gone for the rest of the night when I heard him leave, but only a moment later his footsteps pattering against the trailer floor was heard as he returned. I peeled out of the jacket to see him with a pillow and blanket, offering it to me. I sat up, the jacket falling into my lap as I took the offerings with a small smile. I put them down next to me on the couch before raising the jacket, offering it in return. He paused for a second. "Keep it for tonight," he told me.

My eyes had widened. "But it’s your Serpent jacket."

Sweet Pea paused for a second before he sat on the table next to he couch so he wouldn’t tower over me so much. "You feel safe in it huh? Like, more than a jacket has ever made you feel before." I paused and then realized he was right, nodding. He smiled. "That jacket means a lot more than just what it actually is. I first got that jacket after joining the Serpents to support my mom. I was too young to do anything else, and the Serpents already had so many of my friends - my family. So I joined because that’s what we are. A family. A united force. That jacket is the only thing in this entire world that has ever made me feel safe." He paused. "You need to feel safe. And as far as I’m concerned, here, you are safe. Always. I don’t like your brother and I don’t like that someone as good as you has to deal with him." He smiled, his nose scrunching, and a funny feelings bloomed in my stomach and chest, spreading throughout my body very slowly. The feeling was new but pleasant. "You’re not a normal North Sider."

I smiled. "Thank you."

He nodded, standing. "Just don’t run off with it."

My smile widened and he seemed to forget how to walk for a split second as he looked at me. "Promise." If an hour before this someone had told me I’d be in a Serpent’s trailer, sleeping on a couch with a blanket and a pillow, taking comfort from a Serpent jacket, I would have laughed so hard I’d peed myself, and then I’d have avoided that person for the next ever because I would have been worried they were crazy or on drugs. But that night I slept better than I had every night since Jason Blossom had died. For once the whole world simply faded out and I slipped into a dreamless sleep that was refreshing and peaceful and nothing else.

He fed me breakfast the next day, insisting, and I had to admit he was a good cook. I’d called my dad after that, letting him know I was okay and delivering him some lie about crashing at Jughead’s after ranting to him about my stresses at school and in general. My dad sighed and seemed to not like the idea of me sleeping in the South Side but allowed it this time. Sweet Pea offered me a ride to school and I laughed, telling him no only because my brother would lose his SHIT if he saw Sweet Pea again. He insisted that he didn’t care what my brother thought but I didn’t want to drive Archie to tell my dad the truth about last night and upset him while he was recovering. He understood that and we agreed to compromise. He drove me all the way to the first houses in the North Side and I walked the rest of the way to school, thanking him for everything. He asked if I would visit again. I said maybe.

I didn’t. I wanted to, but I had so much sense and fear hit me after I got home again. My brother was still acting weird except that Veronica was in on it now. He made her aware of the gun and what happened and I sat in my bed upstairs, pretending I couldn’t hear them argue while dad went to some meeting at the school. I found myself wanting to be with Sweet Pea again and hated that my brain was defaulting to him as a safe place. Serpents weren’t safe. North and South siders didn’t mix. Especially me being Archie’s sister- it was a BAD IDEA! ...Yet I wanted it so badly.

So when I heard a knock at the door, I couldn’t even try to lie to myself as I flew from my bed, hoping it was him even though I knew what trouble and chaos it would cause if it was. I wanted him to be here, checking on me and making sure I was okay and ready to whisk me away to his cozy little home I wanted to go back to so badly. Veronica got to the door before me, revealing Reggie and the other Bulldogs with pizzas in tow. I felt sick to feel so disappointed, ignoring everyone else even as Reggie waved at me. They moved into the living room and I plopped on the steps, arms crossed over my knees and my chin resting on top. They were talking about supporting each other and I felt disgusted to be so close to them. They were STILL going after the Red Circle shit? SERIOUSLY?! What would it take for them to learn? Who would have to die?

Revving engines knocked me out of my train of thought but my anger was still there. I knew the engines were motorcycles only because I’d memorized each second of the sound while Sweet Pea had given me a ride to the boarder of the North Side, just like I’d tried to memorize every other detail of my time with him. I didn’t let myself think it was him this time though, instead falling into memory to satiate the ache I had now. I didn’t know him well and it wasn’t like I was about to claim I was in love with him, but he made me feel good and I hadn’t felt so in a long time. It was addicting.

Ronnie was first to the door again, calling Archie over "trouble". Putting together their talk of the Red Circle and what she would consider trouble worth warning Archie specifically, my head popped up and suddenly I was a lot more scared than hopeful. A part of me still wanted it to be him but now that it seemed it was, that half of me that wanted to avoid the ‘trouble’ it would ensue was pushy and demanding, screaming and overruling the other half. When the door opened, I shot to my feet and moved down to the last step of the stairs, my eyes on Sweet Pea instantly. I hadn’t realized just how handsome he was. That odd observation sunk in a second before Archie and Sweet Pea locked eyes and their passionate hate for each other exploded as tangible tension in the room.

"How stupid are you North Siders?" Sweet Pea snapped. He hadn’t seen me yet but it still felt like a slap in the face. I was a North Sider. Sweet Pea took a step closer to my brother. "You really think you can come to my house, stick a gun in my face, in front of my boys, and there wouldn’t be any pay back?" My stomach twisted, because honestly he had a point. I was still mad at Archie about that... even if it had brought me to meeting Sweet Pea.

Reggie grabbed the door, opening it wider to reveal the rest of the Bulldogs. "You really have crap timing bro," he told Sweet Pea slowly. Their voices were full of so much hate that I shivered, my breaths becoming more shallow. "Bulldogs eat Serpents for lunch." My fists clenched. My crazy brother and his stupid friends were threatening the Serpents. The only sane people in all of fucking Riverdale, who were protecting their home and their people from gun wielding maniacs like the idiot I was related to. I felt protective but suddenly torn. The Serpents weren’t my family. Archie was. Putting myself between them would make a statement, and there was no reason for the Serpents to take me in. Although I was fine leaving Riverdale high and my shell of a brother behind, leaving my dad behind was another story. So I stayed in place, my hands curling tighter and tighter as I tried to hold myself back.

"We’ll see," Sweet Pea cooed dangerously. "And the more the merrier." He had meant to look at the Bulldogs, challenging them, but as he took a step inside the house, his eyes landed on me. I only realized because I was staring daggers at the back of Reggie’s head, my face undoubtedly red with rage as I practically shook with how powerful the emotion was. I was glaring at Reggie and Archie and even Veronica and all these stupid North Siders I no longer wanted to be apart of when Sweet Pea stepped back, his movement catching my eye. Our gazes met and I softened instantly, my face exploding with agony and apology and regret.

I don’t know how he knew, but he seemed to know about me. Know what I was thinking and how I was feeling. Suddenly whatever invisible chord that had been between us, tying us together and gently pulling at us to return to each other, was now stronger. Thicker. Harder to ignore. For a split second he nodded to me and I don’t know what he was confirming exactly but I know that my decision was made when it came to my brother. When it came to Archie. This Archie that was twisted. This Archie who was dark and dangerous and threatening and crazy. This Archie that was not mine. This Archie I would not claim even if it meant siding with people who were practically strangers.

Veronica set some ground rules, which I was thankful for. We all filtered out of the house. Archie reached out to stop me but I jerked away from him, glaring at him ferociously. He physically stuttered, his body processing the hateful look I gave him. One he had never seen on my face. One he could not even imagine me showing, let alone directing at him. Despite that, Reggie offered me a ride since I made it aparant without words that I was going- even if I had to go by foot. So we all made our way to the hidden corner Sweet Pea had out for the fight. And everyone took their side, Veronica far behind the Bulldogs in her cloak. I moved to the side, far out of the fight still but not behind the Bulldogs. Archie threw the first lunch and I took several steps back to separate myself even more as the two groups converged on each other.

I didn’t like violence. I never did. The fighting made me sick, my face twisting with distaste and I want as I rejected the scene before me. Dilton was was suddenly bleeding, his knife buried in him. And then there was a gun shot and I jumped, soaking wet from the rain as the Serpents scattered, Sweet Pea calling a retreat when we all saw Veronica with the gun in the air. Bulldogs ran to their cars to help Dilton. Archie called to me. I stumbled back, away, eyes wide with fear and hate. Violence. All this violence. All this aggression and it was getting us NOWHERE. It was causing endless problems and issues and I hated all of it. I hated all of them. He called my name again and I turned first toward the North Side. But the Bulldogs were that way. My brother and his friends were the North Side. The Black Hood was the North Side. I turned away, running toward the South Side. And I didn’t stop running. Not even for a second.

"You know he’s trouble, right?" Betty told me one day. After the whole thing blew up, I’d called my dad and told him I couldn’t be home anymore. At least not for a little while. I had a panic attack over the phone and broke down and told him EVERYTHING and he paused before stating he understood. He asked where I’d stay and I told him I’d figure it out. The next hour after he hung up he called again to let me know Jughead was okay with me staying at his place until I felt good coming home again. He had always been a good dad. Understanding and supportive. These were extenuating circumstances. I was just glad that he let me get out of there. I might have strangled Archie in his sleep.

I was still going to Riverdale High, Sweet Pea giving me rides to the boarder as he did that first day. I avoided Archie at school and eventually he just gave me my space when all of his attempts failed. Sweet Pea and I began to hang out a lot though. Like, a lot. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed. Betty was the one who noticed, and, predictably, she had a word to put into the situation.

Shrugging, I didn’t even look at her to recognize that she had spoken as I focused on my homework. "We all have damage, Betty. I’m not pristine glass and smooth surfaces either." I looked her dead in the eye. "Maybe danger runs in the Andrews bloodline more than you think."

She didn’t have anything to say after that.

Forever Tag List: @bitchyseawitch @alexa-playafricabytoto @chipster-21

#sweet pea #riverdale #jordan connor #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x reader #riverdale imagine #south side serpents #serpents imagine #serpents x reader #jordan connor imagine #jordan connor x reader

110 notes · View notes

bookmawkish · 6 years ago

Text

An easy day, part 4

@worldoftherandom and Yasssssss

HE HAD IT COMING

HE ONLY HAD HIMSELF TO BLAME

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

All the Loki/Heckyl stuff

To be fair to Loki, he’s already kicking ass like it’s going out of fashion: keeping Arcanon busy. Three simulacra Lokis, all acting independently? No problem. Some illusory flame to startle and turn his opponent? Barely a challenge. And that’s even before they get to the melee weapons - Tony has to wonder where the hell it is Loki keeps all those daggers. It just doesn’t seem plausible that there are that many pockets in the leather bodysuit.

But it’s not a one-sided fight, because Arcanon is a bastard of a hitter, and a glancing laser beam catches the real Loki across the face, making him gasp, breaking his concentration. The illusions all vanish, and a follow-up with a massive hand effectively slings Loki upwards and backwards until he crashes unceremoniously through the plate-glass window of the office block behind him.

At this unwelcome development, Heckyl abruptly appears out of nowhere (ha, magical cloaking, Tony totally called it) about a foot to Steve’s left and jumps at Arcanon like a rabid leopard. Straight for the throat. White-hot energy leaps from his hands, channeling straight down into the monster’s neck, lighting him up just as Clint’s arrows did minutes before. Tony can smell the burning, the heat of it. In combination with the oddly spiced-firework smell of Loki’s magic still hanging in the air, it’s overpowering.

“Heckyl,” says Arcanon, seemingly greatly pleased, despite the furious onslaught of power that’s making him stagger. “There you are.” And he brings his big clawed hands up, starts to wrestle, trying to wrench his attacker loose. Heckyl just up and roars right into that mask-like face and doesn’t let go, though he’s being thrown around like a ragdoll. Tony winces. Yeah, that’s the sound of personal right there. This is a grudge match. Heckyl may have the general demeanour of an effete Victorian geek, but he’s evidently just as capable of going primal-crazy as Bruce when someone pushes his buttons. And by the looks of it, he’s just about mad enough right now to forget that he’s horribly outmatched.

Only a matter of time, and he’s gonna get flattened. Oh hell no. And with Loki still out of the game after being thrown into the third floor of the office across the street, there’s no time like the present for the cavalry. Tony takes careful aim, gives Arcanon everything he’s got right in the flank. Steve goes for the legs in a beautiful baseball slide, kicking out at the red swathe of skirt to impact the shins. From above, another four arrows slip perfectly home, finding the shoulder and elbow and beeping cheerfully as they gear up to explode. Every fresh detonation drives Arcanon’s limbs back, pushing him off-balance, until between this and the continual pounding of Steve’s size thirteens on his legs, the monster is driven to his knees with Heckyl dragged along with him, still pouring all the lightning he’s got into Arcanon’s body.

And yet still, still, still it doesn’t seem to be enough: Heckyl’s strength is ebbing. He’s burning through his power too hard and too fast, and it’s not sustainable. The energy flow is starting to stutter and spit despite his obvious and overriding desire to kill his target: he’s plainly and simply running out of juice. The scream of pure, helpless rage he makes when Arcanon manages to get a grip on his throat and yank him away makes Tony grit his teeth. Arcanon is laughing now: he holds Heckyl struggling at arm’s length, with Heckyl writhing and striking at him the whole while like a trapped snake, and shakes him.

“You are weak,” Arcanon says, but Tony notices that although he’s making an obvious show of manhandling Heckyl, Arcanon’s not getting up off the floor. Huh. Maybe they’re not the only weak ones here. He catches Steve’s eye and nods at what he sees there. Yes. About now would be a good time. “You always were weak. Snide was the best part of you.”

This is evidently a very sore point, because Heckyl goes completely wild in Arcanon’s grip, thrashing and kicking and biting like a lunatic, while Arcanon continues to laugh at him.

“In my experience it’s always the bullies who turn out the weakest,” says Steve, in his best proclaiming voice (the one he pulls out specially for elementary school drug talks and when he’s on TV), Arcanon turns his immobile face in Steve’s direction, and then it’s on. Clint goes for a twofer in the monster’s back - he seems to be out of special arrows but hey, the regular kind are still really going to hurt - and Steve seems to have decided that he really hasn’t done enough punching today. Those big all-American fists of vengeance are definitely hitting home. Tony settles for taking to the air and coming down with both feet (did he mention that the repulsors are still fully firing? Ouch) onto Arcanon’s shoulders.

All of this unexpected backup for Heckyl seems to be enough to convince Arcanon to let go, and Heckyl drops to the ground. The alien rolls, snarling out what just have to be curse words in a language that definitely isn’t from this planet, then gets up with Loki’s fallen knives in each hand. Uh-oh. The underdog just got game, thinks Tony, pushing off from Arcanon’s attack and cruising upwards to avoid being lasered. He remembers with clarity the tone of Heckyl’s voice at the mention of Arcanon’s name, and he sees the look in the man’s eyes now: cold and glittering and alight with the growing promise of final satisfaction.

Tony has seen Heckyl look clownish, sarcastic, playful and vindictive before, but this is different to all of the rest. This feels dangerous. Flip the coin, because it’s all games and flirting and silly rainbows on one side - all storms and blood and death on the other.

It’s...well, damn, it’s actually scary.

Arcanon is on the street, struggling to rise, full of arrows.

“Okay,” Tony murmurs to himself, in the privacy of the suit. “Okay. I promised. You get your wish.” He darts down, past Steve, seeing on the readout display the green blip of Loki getting back in the fight. Good. Knew it would take more than blowing backward through a few layers of breezeblocks and glass to keep Ol’ Snake-eyes down, especially with his precious cuddlebunny being in jeopardy and all. “Time out! Everybody back off, stand down. Except you, Goggles, you got this. Take him out.”

He hears Clint’s agreement almost immediately: Steve looks quickly to Heckyl and evidently sees the same evidence of incoming slaughter that Tony did. Steve is a good person. When Steve kills it’s because there really isn’t any other option, and the other guy will have already doomed himself through his own choices. Steve is uncomfortable with backing off at this point, because it feels too much like endorsing murder. But he doesn’t do anything.

And Heckyl, moving almost like a sleepwalker, bends to Arcanon’s side and plunges both the daggers into his neck. One each side, into the gap just below the two lowest masks. A last flare of reserved power lights the blades up bright blue, conducting through and dealing the final blow right up and into the monster’s brain. Arcanon convulses like a beheaded fish on the griddle, those static mask-faces seeming almost to move, contort into expressions of agony as the flickering play of light across them makes the shadows dance.

It takes an uncomfortably long time for the thrashing to stop. But it eventually does, and once they’re all as sure as they can be that the invader is properly dead, Tony, Clint and Steve move in, up to where Loki is standing at a respectful distance from the little tableau of slayer and slain. Even Loki hadn’t tried to get a shot in, Tony thinks. This was Heckyl’s job to do. And he’s done it in spades.

The man in question looks up when Loki murmurs his name, gently, with love. His expression is quite unreadable: an odd, uncertain mixture of joy and confusion and loss all in one.

“I - I was expecting him to just...disappear,” he manages, eventually, and Loki reaches out, pulls him to his feet, pulling him away from the very-obviously-not-vanished corpse.

“Nah, not around here, buddy,” says Tony, thinking back to that unnervingly perfect suburbia that Heckyl had once lived in. “It’s not nice and neat here. Not ever. No poof of fairy dust and a shower of sparks and then gone. Just a whole load of mess.” He shakes his head. “Always so goddamn messy.”

He clocks the protective set of Loki’s shoulders - hell, why can’t someone look out for him like that? - and feels the aches in his own body starting to tell. Jeez, but he’s getting too old for this. “Come on. Fury’s cleaning ladies will be along any minute and I’d rather not have to answer any awkward questions until I’ve had a shower, a shave and a...shawarma.”

“I’ll do it,” says Steve, unhesitating. “I’ll stay.” He smiles briefly, dazzlingly, in that incredibly reassuring and handsome way that always makes Tony want to puke a little. “Pick up the paperwork.” He turns the full force of the Approving Alpha Male Role Model Look on Heckyl. “Good job out there,” he says, and Tony fancies he sees Heckyl relax, just a little.

5 notes · View notes

peetabreadgirl · 7 years ago

Text

Writer’s Block 6.1

Happy Monday, Everyone! Here is a quick update for you. Longer than normal. I hope to have the next bit out by the weekend. Obviously the stress in my life is driving me back to writing. And less sleep! If you want to read the first 5 chapters, find them here.

After making a few edits and many suggestions to Johanna’s nonfiction piece, I'm starting to rethink our deal. I've fulfilled my part, but do I really need hers? Peeta already knows I have no experience by my own admissions, so what will he think when I show up ‘looking like a pro’, as Johanna put it? He's expecting virginal, not promiscuous. Maybe this is a terrible idea.

An abrupt knock on the door interrupts my concentration. My heart speeds up until I look at the clock. It’s too early to be Johanna. It must be Peeta, though he hasn’t made an attempt to contact me since he dropped me off last night. Not that it’s easy. We can really only communicate through google docs and I’ve been on for the last 3 hours, wondering why Johanna’s piece about the mating habits of moths sounds like it needs moth smut.

This project has ruined me for any kind of serious writing career. I briefly wonder if I can ever read again without expecting a love tale.

“Surprise,” Johanna says when I inch the door open.

“You’re early,” I grumble in response. I hadn’t decided if I was going to cancel this date with the dark side of destiny or not.

“I expected you to chicken out, so I came before you could.” She winks and saunters past me into my room without waiting for an invitation.

I stare at the empty space where she was, then spin to face her, not having a clue what to say to the truth. The end of my braid whacks me in the cheek. I rub harshly at the stinging skin.

“You need me, Everdeen. Admit it.”

Nope. Not in a million years. But instead of saying it to her face, I tell her, “I’m not sure I want to do this.” She rolls her eyes.

“I swear if I had a nickel for every time I was right… look, I already saw you made a shit ton of edits to my project, so I know you’re not begging out because you don’t want to give your opinion on it. What gives?”

She waits, one eyebrow quirked and her jaw moving like she’s got gum in her mouth. She blows a bubble and when it pops, she licks her lips of the residue. “Lesson one - anything to draw attention to your mouth. Got it?” I nod, and just like that she goes into lesson 2, 3 and 4 - which are to listen to what my body wants or doesn’t want, don’t be afraid to initiate - guys like it when they don’t have to do all the work - and “for heaven’s sake try a push up bra”. I would be annoyed at her last tip, but I can’t deny I could use a little help in that area. That and I’m too focused on what she’s saying. It’s actually helpful.

She goes through where to put my hands and what to do with them, citing that while women have certain erogenous zones, most men’s entire bodies are one giant erogenous zone. “As long as your hands are on him somewhere, you’re turning him on. Even if it’s his arm. If you want to see him melt, put your hand on his knee and inch it up his thigh, but don’t let on that you’re doing it on purpose.”

My imagination watches me do all these things to Peeta as she says them.

Next, she talks about kissing, which I thought I had a handle on, but from her description I’m woefully inadequate. I’m apparently supposed to bite his lip and then suck on it to ease the pain. She tells me to practice tonguing the inside of my wrist, that whatever feels nice there will feel good to him, and when she says her work is done here and gets up to leave, I can’t help but blurt out, “That’s it?”

“That not good enough for you, Everdeen?” She gives me a look like I’ve let her down. I think I’ve let myself down. Have I really been waiting to get to the explicit advice portion of the evening? Maybe.

“How do I… you know…?” I widen my eyes in an attempt to let her read my mind, but she’s either horrible at it, or she wants to make me say the words.

“Just spit it out.” I have my answer to the silent question, at least.

“How do I touch him, you know... there?”

“You’re not ready for that,” she says flatly, catching me by surprise and I see red. Who is she to make a bargain, show up early so I can’t back out of it, and then withhold information I’ve finally found the courage to ask for?

“I’m of legal drinking age and you’re not my mother.” Neither of those arguments coupled with my pissy tone sound mature, but I’m not going to let her give me anxiety about these ‘lessons’ and then leave me hanging.

“Listen up, Brainless. If you can’t say the word, then you’re not ready to look at it, much less handle it. If I tell you what to do with it, you’ll freak out. Look, the best advice I can give you is enjoy the easy stuff for now. Perfect it. Drive him mad with how good you can kiss and touch. Trust me - you’ll end up there naturally. And if you need to talk about it, let me know.”

She opens the door to leave at the same time I open my mouth to disagree, but then it closes with the bang of the door. She’s right. I’m not ready for that. Peeta said we would take things slow and here I am wanting to rush into it. As I sit to try and sort through why, the door opens and Jo’s head pops back in.

“And remember, no means no. For you and him. Got it?” I nod. She winks and then she’s gone again.

I wake Monday morning and immediately check my email. I make a note to myself while logging into Gmail that I’m way too anxious to hear from a boy. I force the thought that he probably didn’t send anything to the front of my mind so I can crush the hope that sits like an immovable weight in my chest. They battle and rage at each other as I watch the rainbow wheel of death circulate for minutes. The computer goes dark and I groan. Not again. “Piece of shit.”

I snap it closed and start getting ready for class. I’ll see him there and casually mention that it crashed again. If he did get into the doc last night and tried to chat, then at least he’ll now I wasn’t avoiding him or anything. And I won’t have to tell him that I waited up with my computer open and logged in just so I could catch him if he did.

Pathetic.

I wait patiently at the front of the class, in my usual spot. Since my computer is dead again I only have a notebook in front of me. I doodle and try not to look around the room or behind me. I never did before I was paired with Peeta, so why would I do it now? Because you liiiiiiiike him, my traitorous inner conscience taunts me.

In my peripheral I see sneakers and jeans turn down the front row and finally Peeta plants himself next to me. Only when I look up into blue eyes, they’re more of the glacial variety than the warm, inviting one’s I’ve been used to staring into. A leering smile waits for me.

“I missed you after the movie Saturday,” Cato says with a hint of annoyance in. I stifle an eye roll. It’s hard, but I succeed.

“Uh, yeah, they moved me to the back and I had to close, so….” I look away and poise my hand over a blank page in an effort to pretend I’m busy, but I can’t think of anything to write.

Katniss Mellark.

What the hell? There is no way I’m writing that. How did that thought even materialize? I think of the cliche of smitten girls blending their boyfriends’ names and doodling them into notebooks and trees and casts covering broken appendages. That is not me. Not by a long shot. I shake my head to clear the ludicrous thought, but right behind it is a feeling of ire. At Peeta. For leaving me to sit next to Cato. For not reaching out to talk to me yesterday. For worming his way into my head as my boyfriend. We’re just study buddies. Kissing study buddies, but still. We’ve been on a few dates but that doesn’t mean I should be thinking of taking his last name. Good God! What has gotten into me?

I’ve never skipped a class, but right now I can’t not skip this one. With Cato side-eyeing me and these crazy-girl thoughts sprinting through my mind as freely as an escaped convict, I can’t be here. It’s suffocating.

“Where you going?” Cato asks with an edge of concern to his voice as I fold up my notebook and pack it and my pen into my pack.

“Feeling a little sick.” I make a gagging sound and cover my mouth to keep him from following me. It works. His eye grow huge and he leans back in his seat, holding his hands up. Idiot. He doesn’t call out for me to feel better as I scurry from the room, and once I’m out in the hall I inch towards the doorway, sticking my head around the edge to peer in. I’m looking for a mop of blonde hair that doesn’t belong to an imbecile, but I don’t see him. He’s not in class. To my knowledge, he hasn’t missed one, either, so something must be wrong.

My irritation from earlier turns to worry. What if something happened to him? On foot it will take me 25 minutes to reach his duplex, but that doesn’t keep me from setting off in that direction. It takes a little less than the my original calculations, probably because I speed-walked the entire way, but when I get to Peeta’s door I’ve worked myself into such a frenzy over his state of being that I knock hard and without hesitation.

I wait a few minutes, then press my ear to the door, listening for running water that might have drowned him in the bathtub after he slipped and hit his head. There’s nothing, though. I knock harder and longer. HIs jeep is in the driveway so I know he’s here. If he doesn’t answer I may have to break in.

Just when I’ve decided to go around the back, I hear the click of the lock and the door opens a hair.

“Katniss?” his voice croaks.

“You missed class. Are you okay?” He opens the door a little wider and puts one hand on the door jamb to support his weight. Now that I see his face in the light, I can tell he’s not okay. He’s pale and his eyes are tired. Without thinking, I put my hand to his forehead. I barely notice the almost-smile he gives me.

“The worst is over. I had the stomach flu yesterday and last night. I’ve just been catching up on sleep.” He opens the door even more and leans his head against it. “I’d ask you in but I’m sure the place is crawling with germs.”

“It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re not dead.” He huffs a tired laugh at my non-joke. Then he seems to come to himself.

“Did you walk here?”

“Yeah.”

“Let me get my keys,” he says as he starts to turn away. “I’ll run you home so you don’t have to-”

“No, you don’t have to do that. Get back to bed. I can get home on my own,” I tell him. He doesn’t listen, though, and keeps walking towards the kitchen. I follow him inside, intent on dragging him to bed when I see him fumbling around for something.

“Peeta?”

“Huh?” He searches the countertops with his eyes and his hands, looking disoriented. He presses a hand to the side of his head and winces. “My head is pounding.”

“Have you had anything to drink since yesterday?” I know the signs of dehydration. I used to have to make my mother drink liquids because in her deepest states of depression she would forget to do basic things like eat or drink. Or wake up.

I see his brain working. “Not really. I drank a little after I brushed my teeth the last time,” he admits.

“Peeta! You’re dehydrated! You’re not driving me home.” I huff around him, reaching into the cabinet to pull out a glass, then fill it with water and hand it to him. “Drink.” I don’t mean to be bossy, but if I hadn’t come by it could have been so much worse. When he finishes I refill it and hand it back.

He drinks it, and I go for a third.

“No, I can’t.” he waves me off, his hand moving protectively over his stomach.

“Just a few sips.” He gives in and takes two sips.

“Back to bed,” I tell him, pointing in the direction of his bedroom.

He smirks, though it’s a tired one, and turns towards his room. I follow, bringing the glass with me. “This isn’t how I envisioned you ordering me to bed for the first time.”

“Me either,” I reply out loud before I can stop myself.

He turns his head while he walks, eyes wide, then narrowing. His grin is weak but it’s there. “So you admit you’ve been thinking about me in bed?” I fight a blush, but don’t answer.

“Lay down,” I instruct him when we reach his bed. I haven’t been in his room before. It’s masculine, yet inviting, with light blue-gray walls, chocolate brown curtains that look like they feel like suede, and a brown and cream plaid comforter.

“You’re bossy in bed. I like it,” he says as he rolls to his side. I try to seem annoyed, but secretly I like it and I’m fighting to hide my smile. I make note of it in the back of my brain, because now is not the time to think about that, and help Peeta settle in. I check his temperature again, just because I’m curious. And because he’s staring at me and not saying anything.

“I’m staying,” I tell him, my tone leaving little room for argument, especially in his weakened state. “ I’ll wake you in an hour and you can drink more water.”

His eyes close, but he speaks. “Are you going to be my nurse? Nurse Katniss.” He says it with a smile on his pale lips. “Not gonna lie. Every guy’s fantasy is to be taken care of by a hot nurse.”

I bite my lip to hide my grin, thankful that his eyes are still closed. “That depends. Are you going to be a good patient?” I answer, playing along the best I know how.

“I’ll do,” he yawns around his words, “...anything you say.” And then he’s asleep.

#everlark #fanfic #writer's block #peetabreadgirl #6.1

142 notes · View notes

thewalkingdeadimaginings · 8 years ago

Text

For You To Love Me Too

Can you do an imagine where Daryl likes the reader and whenever he touches her he handles her like shes made of glass because he thinks he's going to hurt her or something. He also feels like hes not good enough. (I know thats been done a lot) 😊

Ahhhh! I’m back! Thanks for being so understanding while I took some time away. But I’m so glad to be back and thrilled to finally put out a new one shot! Hope you like this one!! 😊

Speaking of breaks, I did wanna make a little announcement. I decided I wanted to take a break from writing Don’t Look Back. I’m not abandoning the story completely, I just wanna take some more time to plan the story out better. I’ve got bits and pieces planned out but I don’t want a million fillers before putting out quality chapters. So, Don’t Look Back is on hiatus at the moment until I can plan some more chapters.

Okay, so I just wanna let you know that from now on, I’m not gonna respond to requests until I actually post them because I’m losing track of what order I got them in as I list them in my computer so I don’t lose them. I know what you’re thinking. How the fuck does she lose track when she’s supposed to be making note of them in order? I’m kinda stupid that way. Don’t try figuring it out hahaha so I’m gonna save the request in my inbox until I post it and then I’ll respond. I’ve seen other blogs do it this way so I hope you don’t mind if I do it that way as well. Anyways, on with the one shot!!

It was awkward for you every day since you met the group on that highway all those months ago. That Daryl Dixon was either playing hard to get or he was completely oblivious. It was clear to everyone else that you liked him and you were trying to get his attention. Everyone but him anyway.

And he avoided touching you whenever possible. Whenever you two ended up alone on a run, if you needed him to hoist you up or catch you if you stumbled or fell, he got tense and he handled you so delicately but was also quick to pull away from you. You knew your feelings were one sided but did he have to make that so obvious? Did he have to rub it in your face?

You would’ve thought that being in the prison would make it easier but it was even more difficult. He somehow found a way to avoid you even more. You barely ever saw him anymore and you were surprised by how disappointed you were. It’s not like you knew him that well. Wasn’t from a lack of trying though. His guard was up constantly, his walls too tall to climb over and too thick to break through.

“We’ve got enough food to last us the rest of the week,” Rick told the group, “But we should work on finding more. Now that we have shelter, it’ll be less stressful.”

“I’ll go,” Daryl said, “Wouldn’t hurt to hunt some. Maybe there’ll be more to catch around here.”

“You shouldn’t go alone,” Rick said.

“I’ll go,” you piped in, raising your hand.

“No, I’ll do fine on my own,” Daryl grumbled, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be okay. I don’t need Y/N’s help.”

“Daryl, you shouldn’t go alone,” Rick said, “Y/N is going with you. Both of you should start getting ready to go.”

“Sounds good,” you said. Daryl didn’t respond, just stormed off to his cell to gather his things. What could he possibly have to be angry about? Did he hate you that much? It almost made you want to corner him and confront him but you held back and just packed up your things for the run.

Daryl was loading up a truck when you came out of the cell block after changing your clothes and packing a bag. You opened up the back door of the truck and tossed your bag into the backseat. You leaned against the side of the truck, watching Daryl load the truck.

“Need any help?” you asked.

“I got it,” Daryl replied. He refused to make eye contact with you, fidgeting as he slammed the trunk shut. Even when he turned in your direction, he kept his head down and stared at the ground beneath his feet, “Ya ready to go?”

“Sure,” you muttered. You climbed into the passenger seat while he walked around to the driver’s side. Once he started driving, he’d kind of relaxed. You tried making small talk but he wasn’t really having it, ending the conversations quickly with one worded answers and irritated grunts.

“Over there,” Daryl blurted out, nodding towards a hardware store a few feet away. He turned into the desolate parking lot. The few cars that were still in the lot were either completely torn apart from people taking things from them, or they reeked with the smell of death from the decomposed bodies still sitting inside.

“Alright, let’s do this,” you said once Daryl stopped the truck in front of the main entrance. As Daryl pounded on the door in an attempt to lure out whatever walkers were wandering around inside, you grabbed your bag from the backseat as well as some guns Daryl had brought along. You turned to him holding up a handgun, “Hey, you should take this.”

“Got one,” Daryl said, banging against the door with his elbow, “You hang onto that.”

“Sure,” you said with a sigh. A few walkers did end up reaching the main entrance, banging on the window, smearing blood all over the glass with their hands and tongues hanging from their open mouths.

“You stay back,” Daryl said.

“Hey, I can handle these walkers too,” you argued. You stood behind him as he was ready to pull the doors open. But now, he was hesitating, hanging his head and bouncing from one foot to the other. You frowned, lowering your gun slightly, “Daryl? You okay?”

“Can handle it myself,” Daryl muttered.

“Then why are you hesitating?” you inquired, “If you can handle it, then open the door.”

“Just get in the truck and stay there,” Daryl ordered, “Why can’t you just listen to me?”

“Why do you think I can’t help?” you shot back, “You think I’m weak? Or stupid? What?”

“No I don’t think that,” Daryl snarled, “Just drop it and wait in the truck.”

“I won’t do shit until you tell me why,” you retorted, “Look, I’ve tried my hardest to be friendly, get to know you and to help you with things and all that stuff. But you clearly don’t like me and you don’t want me around. I don’t know why but I’m so tired of liking you and being so miserable all the time. You clearly don’t have emotions and could never like me or anyone.”

Daryl turned from the door and glared at her, “You don’t like me.”

“Believe me, after nearly a year, I think I’d know if I liked you or not,” you grumbled, “And I’ve spent all this time on you. Just forget it, okay? I’ll go wait in the truck. How about I just take one of these abandoned cars back to the prison? How about I just do that? You think I’m so incapable, you hate me so much-”

“Would you stop?!” Daryl shouted. He lowered his crossbow, leaning his head back with a groan, “I don’t hate you. I don’t think you’re weak. I just…I-I just…”

“You just what?!”

“It just ain’t like that,” Daryl muttered, “I just don’t…want anything to…happen…to you.”

Your feelings of rage softened and your body loosened a little, “You don’t want anything to happen to me? So, you do like me?”

Daryl gave you a shrug, “Yeah. I guess I do. It’s ‘cause I like you that I think…I think you should stop wastin’ your time on me.”

“Why would I wanna do that?”

“You just think you want me but you’re gonna find out real fuckin’ fast that I ain’t worth all the bullshit,” Daryl said, “Should invest time in someone that’s worth it.”

“Daryl, who the hell told you that you wouldn’t be worth it?” you said, “You think you’re worthless? Not good enough? That’s crazy! If that was the case, Rick and the others wouldn’t rely on you, they wouldn’t even bother including you in anything if they believed you were worthless. I wouldn’t have spent all this time trying to get your attention if I believed you were worthless.”

“Damn,” Daryl mumbled. He was silent for a few minutes, looking at everything he could to avoid looking at you. You both knew that the silence had gone on for too long but Daryl wasn’t going to say anything more unless you did.

“I know you don’t believe me,” you said, taking a few steps towards him. His body tensed but he didn’t protest, “I know that nothing I can say will make you believe me. And that’s okay. Because I think we can work through this. Do you wanna know why?”

“Sure,” he grunted, “Why?”

You kept walking until you were standing right in front of him. His breath quickened a bit despite him trying to hide it. You smiled, straightening out the collar of his shirt, “Because you took a big step today. You actually shared something with me today. And eventually, we’ll share more and more.”

“You ready to wait for that long?” he mumbled, lowering his head once more, “You wanna spend all that time on me?”

“It may sound silly to you but yeah I do,” you said, resting your hands on his chest, “Just this moment has been worth the wait, Daryl.”

“You might be insane,” Daryl replied, a chuckle slipping from his lips, “But…guess I don’t mind a little bit of crazy.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” you giggled. Your next move was a bold one and you hadn’t put any thought into it. You leaned in quickly to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. You were certain that would send him right back into his shell and make him push you away.

But he didn’t. It was enough to lift his head in surprise but he didn’t seem angry at all. He took in a deep breath, his blue eyes focused on your lips. He cleared his throat as he slowly leaned in, placing a kiss on your lips that was a bit awkward and he was still tense but you still returned his kiss, knowing that this was huge for him and he needed you to be kind. And even though he fumbled and didn’t know what he was doing, you still thoroughly enjoyed being kissed by him.

“Wow,” you whispered when he pulled away, “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Was it that bad?”

“No, no!” you exclaimed, “It was that good. I hope you’ll do it again sometime.”

Daryl shrugged, “Maybe. If you really wanted me to.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” you chuckled. The walkers slapping the glass caught your attention as well as Daryl’s and you sighed loudly. You wished the moment could last just a little longer but at the same time, everyone would be worried if you didn’t get back to the prison before sundown, “We should get started. Still want me to wait in the truck?”

“Nah,” Daryl said. He got back into position, getting ready to slide the door open. He gestured to the gun tucked away in your holster, “You said you wanted to help. Let’s get this started, Y/N.”

#The Walking Dead #TWD #Imagines #The Walking Dead imagines #TWD Imagines #Daryl Dixon #one shot #fanfiction #requested #leave your requests

153 notes · View notes

hunter-of-sorts · 8 years ago

Text

1958

A/N- FINALLY! I have much more to this so wait for it! Also this is my last request on the list, the rest are sequels! YAY! I was a little stuck on this but I managed haha Tell me what you think! x)

Request-Could you write a fic where the reader died in a car crash around the time when Henry Winchester left his son and right after she dies she wakes up bloody and cut up from the crash on the ground at a pier where Sam and Dean were on a vampire hunt and they find you and think one of the vamps attacked you and they take you back to the motel and clean up your wounds and stuff and they ask you do you know what those were and you get confused at what they're talking about. They tell you about the vamps and you think they're crazy. Then Cas comes and tells the boys who you are and that he brought you here after you died because you were supposed to be a hunter in the if you hadn't died. Maybe you could make this a series about them taking you on hunts and teaching you stuff about hunting and the modern world (cause your from the past). Idk but sorry this was so long :P

No Pairing

Part 1 |

Word Count- 943

The air felt strange. Though it often felt strange to you, almost as if there was someone there with you, watching. This was different though. As you drove down an unfamiliar street, since your normal route was blocked. The street seemed uncomfortably empty. The sky almost felt darker than it was just a few seconds ago. You chucked that to be your imagination though. Stuff like that couldn’t possibly happen.

“Calm yourself, Y/N. Just keep driving,” you whispered to yourself.

You took a deep breath right after, and although it didn’t really calm you down, you continued to drive. You just wanted to get home and relax. Just imagining it was euphoric. So much so that you, sigh out in relief and closed your eyes, just for a second.

That was a bad idea.

Next thing you know another car, that wasn’t there until a second ago, was headed right toward you. You tried to swerve out of the way but there was just no room with all the parked cars on the street.

Even then you stepped on the brakes as hard as you could, hoping that if you and the car coming toward you, did the same you might avoid an accident. Unfortunately for you, they didn’t stop, and they were going full speed. The last this you see was there headlights.

Though just before you blacked out from the crash, you could’ve sworn you felt someone grab your arm. Though you never had time to check before the other car completely collided into yours.

____________________________

Sam and Dean were slicing head off in an old building on a pier. There victims? A nest of vampires, who had been taking people to harvest for the long run. Though it seemed like the vampires found out they had come and exterminated their captives before the two brothers could even try to help. Not that it did them much good, since in a fit of rage they killed them off quicker than usual. Mostly Dean.

When they were done and were heading back to the car, Sam spotted someone on the ground a few feet from where they were. They immediately ran over to you. Bloody and unconscious, the brothers looked to one another.

“Are they another victim?” Dean questioned.

“Looks like it,” Sam muttered. He knelt down and checked you pulse, “It’s faint but they’re alive,” he said.

“Let’s take em back to the motel room,” Dean said.

Sam slowly carried you to the car. From there to the motel room when you all arrived. He then grabbed the first aid kit as Dean started cleaning your wounds.

“These don’t look like they were from a vamp,” Dean said as your cuts were becoming more visible. He found this strange.

“Then what happened to them?” Sam asked. He started stitching up any deep cuts.

“No idea,” Dean responded.

Then Sam found a shard of glass sticking out of one of your cuts. He pulled it out slowly, and then held it up for his brother to see.

“Glass?” Dean questioned. Sam nodded and continued to patch you up. Though the more they cleaned you up the more questions they had.

When they were more or less done, they laid you on one of the beds. They’d just ask you when you were awake. It took about two hours more before you did though.

You inhaled deeply and sat up too quickly when you woke up. Everything hurt and you were dizzy. You looked around and saw two men staring at you.

“Wh-o,” you paused, unable to talk very well. “Who are...you? Where... am I?” you asked, panic apparent in your voice.

“Calm down alright, we found you outside the warehouse by the pier,” the green eyed man answered.

“Pier?” you asked in return.

The long haired one looked toward the other and back to you, “Do you remember how you got there? Maybe who took you?”

You shook your head, “I... I was- in my car... and...” you tried to remember but it seemed so blurry.

“The vamps probably pretended to hitch hike...” the green eyed one muttered to the other.

“V-amps?” you questioned. If that was what you think that was, then these two were crazy and you had to get out of there.

The long haired one gave you a sympathetic look, “Vampires,” he answered.

Just as you thought. ‘They’re crazy,’ you thought.

“We thought they had killed everyone but we found you nearby. Do you remember how you got out?” he asked.

You shook your head. “I was... in my- car and...”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to force yourself. I’m Sam and this is Dean, my brother. We patched you up but you should rest, you lost a lot of blood.”

You looked down at your arms that were covered in bandages. You were about to say something, when something began to ringing. You seemed alarmed by it, especially when you saw Dean take out a small rectangle thing from his pocket, and held it to his ear.

“W-What is... that?” you asked quizzically.

Sam looked at you as if you were the crazy one, “That’s a phone,” he said.

“Without a cord?” you questioned.

“Yeah... have you not...” he paused, “Do you remember what year it is?” he inquired curiously.

“1958,” you answered right away.

His eyes widened and he stood up abruptly. He walked over to his brother and whispered, “They’re from 1958.”

“What?” Dean all but shouted. He turned toward you, “You’re from 1958?”

“I- would say so, yes,” you responded. Where else would you be from?

Nobody said anything for the next few minutes.

Hope you liked it! x)

#dean #sam #dean winchester #sam winchester #no pairing #spn #supernatural #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #reader insert #vamps #past!reader

25 notes · View notes

sleepy-grandpa-blog · 8 years ago

Text

The Gift of Fire

Story: Leave it up to Mirajane the matchmaker to get Lucy fired from her job and set her apartment on fire so she and Natsu can admit their feelings to each other. Perfect plan, right? Right? In this case—" Mira! You can't just set people's houses on fire!" Rating: T Note: Mira is a sneaky little demon. "You know, things happen to you, and sometimes you don't realize why it happened until much later. But eventually it all makes sense." —Unknown (:)(S)(:) The Gift of Fire Thank Me Later (:)(S)(:) ... Natsu couldn't shake off the feeling that something felt odd. .. .. It also didn't help that Mira was shooting him a mischievous look—beckoning him to come closer with her hand like she had some giant dirty secret she needed to get out of her system and let someone know. If Lucy was here, she'd— Natsu stopped for a second. Lucy... It'd had been a while since he had spoken to her. It was just...he didn't really know how to talk to her. Things were confusing and frustrating. Natsu didn't like change. Especially when it came down to his best friend. Looking back, Natsu really couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he had feelings for Lucy—and that pissed him off. He just, y'know, woke up one morning and suddenly transformed into a...a...walking pile of hormones. It was awful—never in his life did he meet someone who could make his stomach all fluttery, or make his heart speed up a thousand times faster than usual. She lit a fire in his belly—something that he, with all his experience of heat and flames, could not explain. It wasn't bad, in fact, it felt good. But it scared him. He only knew one way to handle the situation— Avoid her. No more sneaking into her apartment and sleeping on her soft bed. Hell, he can't even remember what she smells like anymore. Well, he knows what she smells like it's vanilla with a hint of something that he couldn't even remember that always drives him crazy. Her smell was just like a ghost to his nose now. And as much as it hurt him, he continued to do so— But when he did, Lucy became even busier. The blonde had gotten a job in Crocus for Sorcerer Weekly as a reporter, and spent most of her time over there. Instead of coming to the guild every day, she came on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Sundays. Speaking of which it was Sunday. Lucy should be visiting the guild soon, which would be a perfect time for him to go on a mission. Natsu decided to do that. The dragon slayer was only able to take two steps towards the board before, "PSST!" With his sharp hearing, he turned to see the white-haired she-devil beckoning him even more. It was tempting to just bolt out of the guild, but seeing that look in her eye made him realize that he would be making a bad decision and would regret it later. Natsu hesitantly walked up to the bar, sitting down at his normal spot. "What do you want, Mira?" Mira pouted, "How rude! Is this how you thank me?" Natsu blinked, "Thank you for what?!" Mira shushed him, "Not so loud, let's just say you owe me one." "What are you talking about—" Mira simply grinned widely. Another guild member called out to the bartender requesting something to drink. "Duty calls!" She sung and danced away. Natsu wasn't as stupid as everyone thought he was. But when it came to girls, well he down right didn't understand them. Actually, Natsu was pretty sure no man understood what went on in a woman's head. He probably didn't want to know either, especially if it came down to Mira, or worse... Erza. He shivered at the thought, believing that it was just different techniques to torture him and Gray. Natsu inhaled loudly, and froze. It was the smell. .. .. The vanilla smell with the hint of rosemary. The smell that was home to him. .. Lucy was here. .. The blonde trudged sadly to the bar, plopped down and banged her head against the wood. "One strawberry lemonade, Mira." She said quietly, voice weak. Lucy sat a few stools away from Natsu, but he desperately wanted to know what was wrong. She only got that drink when she was upset. Her long golden tresses blocking his view of her pretty face to see her expression. "Wow," Gray commented, walking up to the bar, "You look like shit." He leaned his back against the bar, arms crossed and of course—shirtless. Lucy groaned. Levy swatted the back of his head, glaring. "You could have phrased it nicer, Gray." The ice mage merely shrugged. What an asshole, Natsu thought bitterly. Levy turned to her best friend, "Is everything okay, Lu-Chan? I've never seen you so upset." The blunette said, concern lacing in her voice. Mira slid Lucy her drink which the blonde muttered out a 'thank you'. "My apartment burnt down." Lucy said from behind her hair. Her friends all stopped to look at the mop of hair. Gray furrowed his eyebrows, processing what the celestial wizard had just said. "W-wait, what? Burnt down as in "to the ground"?" Lucy groaned. That was a yes. "What, did you leave flame-brain alone at your place again?" Lucy flinched and Natsu caught that. Hurt decorating his features, but he stayed silent no matter how much he itched to punch in that stupid stripper's face. "Did you leave the burner on again?" Levy asked. Lucy laughed bitterly, "I wish." she said, finally lifting her head up to take a sip of her drink. "After work, I went home to see my apartment in complete ashes. Get this, my apartment was the only one to burn down!" She cried, "The worst part about it is the police and fire department can't even give me a definitive answer." Natsu caught the small smirk that Mira had on her face as she was in earshot, but was still helping out another guild member. Why would she be smirking? "That's really strange." Levy commented. "To think that your apartment was the only one that caught on fire in your unit. That just doesn't add up." "You're telling me," Lucy grumbled, "All my stuff is gooooneee." She cried, banging her head back on the counter. She was going to give herself a concussion if she kept doing that. "Where am I going to stay?!" Say something. No way, what if she freaks out or something? Do it. Natsu bit the inside of his cheek, drawing blood. He continued to fight with his inner self as to whether he should volunteer to help his best friend. Wait? We're they even best friends still? He's been avoiding her for weeks now. Did he lose that title? The thought of losing his place as Lucy's best friend hurt him, he was too stuck in his thoughts to hear almost everyone's offers of Lucy staying with them for the time being. Almost. "You can always crash at my place, Lucy." Natsu felt his blood boil. The thought of beating the shit out of Gray now sounded way more thrilling than it did before. The air around them suddenly felt damp and a loud cry erupted, "WHY GRAY-SAMA?!" Lucy winced at the high-pitched shriek of Juvia. "Uh, that's okay Gray." She said avoiding the dark look Juvia was giving her. "Thanks for the offer though." Say something. Say something. Say something! "What about you, Natsu? Can't Lucy stay at your place until her apartment gets fixed?" Mirajane asked, smiling at the dragon slayer. Natsu started to think about what it would be like to have Lucy stay with him. Sure it'd be awkward, but maybe. Before Lucy could speak, Gray butted in. "Seriously, Lucy it wouldn't be a big deal if you stayed with me." The raven-haired male ignored the rain woman's loud cries. Natsu clenched his fist under the counter, fire raging to get out. There was no way she was staying with that asshole. Then say something! Before Natsu could stop himself he had blurted out a simple, "She can stay with me." Apparently he shouldn't have said that because all heads turned in his direction. Including Lucy. She innocently titled her head to the side, she blinked. Her incredibly long eyelashes brushed the swells of her cheeks. He swallowed the lump in his throat, he felt hot under the gaze of her caramel-coloured eyes. Don't stare at me like that. "U-uh are you sure you won't mind?" Lucy inquired. Mira waved her hand in dismissal, speaking for the pink-haired male. "Don't be silly, Lucy. He and Happy wouldn't mind! That would be more than ecstatic to have you stay with them." Mira gave Natsu a look, "Isn't that right, Natsu?" Natsu swallowed, "Y-yeah, we wouldn't mind." He said, voice cracking at the end. "O-oh, okay...thank you." She said awkwardly. "See, Lucy you have nothing to worry about!" Mira clapped her hands, smiling. "I'll ask Lisanna to take over my shift and we can go shopping for some clothes for you!" "Yeah!" Levy grinned, "We can have a girl's day out." "And I'm definitely out." Gray said in disgust at the two girl's squealing. He placed a calloused hand on Lucy's shoulder, giving it a reaffirming squeeze before walking away. Natsu shooting bullets through the back of his skull. "So, uh—" Lucy's sweet voice drew back his attention. "I'll see you later I guess." Natsu nodded, "Yeah...later." He confirmed. "Come on Lucy!" Levy said tugging on her best friend's arm, leading her out of the guild. "We better start now." Lucy's strawberry lemonade laid on the counter, forgotten. Mira folded the rag and placed it on the edge of the bar. "You'll thank me later, Natsu." She said walking around the counter, and then clamping a firm hand on his shoulder. Natsu jumped and winced as her fingernails imprinted bloody crescents on his shoulder. "Don't forget that you owe me." she whispered in a sickly innocent voice. "Are you coming Mira?" Mira put on that kind gentle smile that everyone was used to, "Coming!" she yelled chasing after the girls. What did she mean by "you owe me"? He huffed a little bit of smoke puffing out. Girls were weird and he decided that he never wanted to learn anymore about them. His mind instantly shot back to Lucy, and how he volunteered to house her. It would just be her...and him. Her and Him—and of course Happy. Red stained his cheeks as he thought about Lucy living in his house. Possibly making food, hanging out with him, going fishing. The teasing from Happy stating that they liked each other (he wouldn't tell anyone, but Natsu secretly enjoyed it). Maybe sharing the hammock. Hell, even Lucy using his bath. Heh... Lucy... Bath... Lucy naked... But things are awkward between you two. Shit, he forgot about that. Not only was Lucy going to be staying out his house—but there would be awkward sexual tension on his part, Lucy can't even look at him without turning away in sadness and he still doesn't know what the fuck to say to her and how the hell he was going to confess. "GAH!" Natsu slammed his fists on the table, standing up. Flames licking his fists like an overzealous puppy. He needed to take his frustration out on something—or someone for that matter. And he knew just the person. .. He smirked. .. "GRAY! FIGHT ME!" ... Note 1: That was the end of the chapter, my dudes! Note 2: Please leave a review my dudes. Constructive criticism is allowed, just please don't be super mean about it. Note 3: I hope you all have a fantastic day! Until next time!

#nalu #fairy tail #natsu dragneel #natsu x lucy #mirajane strauss #fairy tail mirajane #lucy heartfilia #fairytail fanfiction #fairy tail nalu #nalu fanfiction #nalu fluff #THE GIFT OF FIRE #grandpa's snoring #gray fullbuster #natsu and lucy #ft fanfiction #ft fandom #nalu trash

38 notes · View notes

tinybellz-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Fight Night

Who → Tiny Bell & Drew Torres When → March 22nd 2017 Where → Gold’s Gym on Isabella St. Notes → Drew attempts to teach Tiny a few things about fighting, only for things to end up crashing down one last time for Tiny.

Tiny: hated to admit it, but Drew seemed to know what he was doing when it came to fighting. While he wasn't the most efficient teacher or anything, sparring with him had been helping him find triggers for all the anger he'd been having lately. And although he still had /some/ issues, like random chest pains, he was feeling better than ever lately. So as he approached the ring, he figured one more extra session this week wouldn't hurt. "Hey Torres!", Tiny called out as he walked to the side of the ring, backpack slung over his shoulders. "Let's try something new today, eh?"

Drew: didn't mind helping out Tiny once he realized the perks. Getting to beat up the kid and not having to worry about any back lash was great, not that he would be too worried to begin with. Fighting is something he loved more than anything, it always helped him and the money isn't too bad as well. Sparring in the ring with another buddy he tried out a couple new combos before hearing Tiny. Stepping back he looked at the kid then signaled for him to join. "Bell, was I not kicking your ass enough before?" He said with a chuckle. "Got some new kicks and jabs I can show you." he said with a evil smile.

Tiny: "Alright, first off: I /let/ hit me a lot of those times.", he pointed out with a laugh as he sat his backpack on a seat. "Finding like, anger triggers and stuff has been pretty useful. But you know what? That sounds like an idea. I think I'm ready to spar, like for real for real now." Taking off his shirt, he climbed into the ring, doing a few stretches as he got ready. The older Torres was surprisingly easy going about this arrangement, considering his past with his brother and his Athlete status, however Tiny chucked it up to his own easy going attitude. "Alright, as long as you don't pretend I'm Dallas during this session again, we'll be good." He said as he raised his first with a laugh.

Drew: rolled his eyes, "Yeah, sure." Bumping his boxing gloves with the other guy he nodded as the guy left the ring. "Well that was the point of all this wasn't? Oh for real now? Don't have to tell me twice." Joining him he also took his shirt off, tossing it to the side along with his gloves. "You're gonna wish you didn't that." The only reason Drew took it so easy on the kid is mainly because his beef is with Vince, not all Bell's. He knows better than anyone you can't choose family. Drew laughed, "Got you." Raising his fist he started moving around the ring slowly, "We done figuring out your triggers cause let me tell you I could really go for trash talking Vince today."

Tiny: "Well yeah, but I like, still like this whole fighting thing. It's fun. But I'm just not trying to lose my mind like with what happened with Dallas again.", he noted and shook his head. Tiny had gotten mad before, but losing control like that was something he knew he needed to get a handle on and fast before he hurt someone he cared about for real. Thankfully, this had helped find his triggers and how to avoid them. A smirk appeared on his face as Drew started talking a little bit cocky, a little excited for what the older boy had to teach him. "Yeah yeah. I've seen you enough to know your weak points, I think. I can handle whatever you throw my way.", he boasted as put on his gloves before he raised his fists up. At the mention of his brother, he gritted his teeth for a moment on instinct, before taking a small breath. "Yeah, I know my triggers. You wouldn't want to talk about brothers when I could trash talk Adam for hours though..", he pointed out with a laugh as gave Drew a jab to start.

Drew: "Can't promise that you'll stay sane when fighting. Sometimes you'll get frustrated and if you're losing, you might lose control again, but I got some tips I'll show you when you reach that point." Drew knew better than anyone about controlling his emotions when fighting. Anytime he doesn't he loses. It happened the first couple of times he fought and then again with Luke. "I'll tell you that you have to just not give a shit about anything expect coming out on top." He added. Ever since they started fighting together it had been fun, though he wouldn't admit. Most people wouldn't volunteer to get hit by him so he loved every minute. "Oh really? Someone's getting too cocky. We'll see about that." Drew grabbed his MMA gloves then cracked his neck, moving his head from side to side while jumping in place to pump himself up. Seconds later he join the other guy, laughing with his gloves raised. "Do ya, huh? Well bring it on. Bet mine will piss you off." He said as he blocked the jab. Following Tiny's lead he jabbed toward the others face then quickly again at his stomach.

Tiny: knew what Drew was saying had some truth to it as he listened to him talk about still possibly getting frustrated. Words could still hurt, he figured, but he knew he had to find a way to channel that into an emotion that wasn't as destructive or hurtful to those around him, saving that rage hopefully for a real opponent one day. "Got it.", he nodded as he realized the only goal in a ring and in a fight was to win, and never let your opponent get into your head with trash talk. Tiny could only chuckle a bit at the older boy's enthusiasm for fighting as he got himself pumped, but he knew he had some of the same drive at least. Tiny responded to the his blocked hit by trying another of his own, missing and feeling Drew hit him in his stomach. "Ahh..haha, I'm kinda slow still I guess.", he chuckled as he clutched his stomach. His smile faltered slightly when he felt a sharp pain in his chest, more intense than previously, making his hand travel to his chest as he breathed a little heavier. "I'm good..", he paused as he took a deep breath as he tried to regain his normal breathing again, still feeling a sharpness but trying to play it off as he raised his fists up again.

Drew: made sure he didn't get too far into his fight zone, trying to take it easy on the newbie. But once those fits were raised it was hard for him to go easy. When his glove made contact with Tiny's stomach he couldn't help but smirk. "You gotta watch out for that. More than likely no one is going to throw just one punch." He said giving the kid a second to catch his breath. "You good?" He questioned about to lower his fists, but then he got his answer. As the other guys fists raises Drew was a little impressed. "Need me to go easy on you?" He asked with a fake pout, throwing a punch toward his face, but missing. Drew started jumping again, lightly bouncing around. "Ahh who am I kidding, I can't do that." His stance changed, making it look like he was going to kick Tiny but instead he launched forward hit him in the chest hard enough to make his opponent fall. "Yeah, baby!! That's what I'm talking about."

Tiny: Heh..guess I gotta watch out for that...urgh..I mean those crazy hands of yours..", he groaned as he tried to play off the pain he was in by laughing slightly. He slightly winced as he tried to regain his composure. While Tiny was confident, he was still new to this compared to Drew, and he didn't want to seem like he was weak. He figured this pain was all apart of the process and that he'd get used to it. "Don't go easy..just keep going.." Smiling weakly, he raised his fists as he tried to charge toward Drew and power through, hoping to hit him somewhere and cause some damage. He missed, recoiling quickly as he expected a kick and kept his hands near his face to block. Curiously, he didn't feel anything his his face, but the boy was floored once Drew's fist made contact with his chest. "Shit!", he said as he fell backwards. "Not bad..not..", he panted and tried to stand up, but quickly feeling his chest tighten even worse than before. "AAAAGGGHH!", he screamed out, clutching his chest as his body fell back to the ground. "Fuck...ah! It hurts worse! Something's..wrong!", he cried out in pain shutting his eyes tightly.

Drew: took what Tiny said into consideration before hitting him. The teen had a lot of pent up angry he needed to get out from when Tori was missing. Drew wanted nothing more than to hurt the girls father and now is letting off some steam without realizing how powerful of a punch he gave off. The teen soon figured it out once Tiny couldn't stand up. His eyes widen as he watched the other boy. Normally he would think the other guy is just being a wimp but he could tell Tiny was actually hurt. Looking around he noticed no one else is with them. "Fuck, okay hold on.." Running out of the ring he grabbed his phone dialing 911. "I'm at the gym on Isabella St. This guy can't get up and is clutching his chest." Once the lady on the other end of the phone said someone is coming he hung up and moved back to the boy. "Helps coming so just keep breathing." He said unsure of what to say or do.

Tiny: knew that things had been tense in the past few days with Tori, and he knew the Drew had a lot of pent up aggression and rage towards her father and the entire situation, so he had a feeling the older boy wouldn't hold back. But when Drew's fist hit Tiny's chest, something had gone terribly wrong somehow. "Ahh...", he groaned as he stayed collapsed on the ground, clutching his chest as he felt it getting harder and harder to breath. "It's getting worse..not gonna..shit!", he muttered as he reached into his pocket with his free phone, struggling to unlock it. He reached up and tried to hand the phone to Drew, pushing the name of his Aunt to appear on the screen. "Call..my Aunt Viv..call her...", he said breathlessly, before Tiny felt all the strength leave his body, causing him to shut his eyes and slowly lose consciousness.

"Mom...?"

#para #wildonedrew #p:fight night

4 notes · View notes

tyleroakley-obsessed · 4 years ago

Quote

Ed Note: As of July 16, the 2020 Cooper Young Festival is cancelled. Cooper Young Festival will return in 2021 on September 11. For more information, see the release. Cooper Young Fest is – at least in midtown – pretty much an official holiday. For the last 30+ years, this neighborhood event has grown to be one of the largest one-day events in Tennessee. Expect about 135,000 people to flood the area during the day-long event. Here are 26 essential things to know and pro-tips to help you make the most of the day. 1. Cooper Young Fest is September 14, 2018 from 9 a.m. to 7 p.m. It’s free to enter. 2. It’s the same weekend as the Southern Heritage Classic, which has been going on all week and starts on Saturday with the Classic Parade at 9 a.m. (on Park from Haynes to Airways). Tennessee State v. Jackson State kicks off at 6 p.m. at the Liberty Bowl. 3. This year, there are more than 3=400 vendors selling everything you can think of: arts, crafts, ceramics, jewelry, vintage stuff, clothes, t-shirts, food, Memphis stuff, and much more. 4. It’s family-friendly, at least until the later afternoon. There’s a Kid’s Area with fun things for the little ones. Leave the pets at home, though. 5. Cooper will be blocked off from Central to Walker. Young Avenue will be blocked off from west of the Young Avenue Deli to Meda. More streets might be blocked off just because. There’s a parade on park at 9 a.m. (see #2) You can find maps of all the vendor booths here (just keep scrolling and click on the different areas). 6. Expect crowds. Again, about 135,000 people came to CY Fest at some point in past years. Arrive early to avoid some of this. 7. Bring cash. Vendors may accept credit cards, but you can never be sure. 8. As crowds grow – cell service might be spotty. That’s a nice way of say your phone is not going to work, sorry. Got it? My phone (AT&T) usually stops working early morning until about 9 p.m. when a bunch of missed texts and calls finally come through. Enact music festival rules and make plans and rendezvous locations/times with friends ahead of time and you’ll be fine! 9. Wear sunscreen, unless you just want to get burnt up. 10. Make a plan for parking. The next five tips are about parking. 11. If you must drive and park, don’t. Really. Why would you do this? I guess if you have it, do it early for best street parking selection in nearby neighborhoods. Streets in the surrounding mile or so will fill up fast. Some streets will be blocked. Please be careful when crossing streets, folks! And if you’re driving, take extra care; it’s festival day. 12. If you can’t get there until later, I’d highly suggest an alternative to driving yourself. Lyft, Uber, or take a cab. I’m not sure what the surge fares/wait times will be that day, but probably crazy. OR you can ride the bus! Check out MATA’s routes here. 13. Or, ride your bike. There will be a free Bike Corral in the Bluff City Sport parking lot (at Cooper and York) where you can park your bike while you enjoy the festival. Open from 9 a.m. to 7 p.m. 14. Or, park in the CBU lot and walk over or take a shuttle. I always have a hard time confirming this, but in years past, it was $20 per car to park and they had a bus that took you over. 15. Remember that it’s totally free to enter the festival, so a few bucks for parking or a ride isn’t a big deal. Embrace it and enjoy the sights and sounds of this one-of-a-kind festival. Photo by Holly W. 16. There are three music stages; be sure you don’t miss that part of the Festival. Full lineup. 17. The Main Stage in front of Young Avenue Deli has music starting at 11:15 a.m. 18. The MEM 200: The New Century of Soul Stage is in the First Congo parking lot and has music starting at 12:15 p.m. 19. The Memphis Grizzlies stage is at Young and Meda and has music starting at 12:30 p.m. 20. Do All The Things! Experience all the fun at CY Fest: peruse the booths, talk to people, catch a few demos, and get some grub. 21. The Cooper Young 4-Miler is Friday, September 13 at 7 p.m. The neighborhood goes all out, with yard parties, cheering sections, Jello-O shots and Fireball shots for runners to grab as they jog by. (See the “toga” party photo below.) Photo by Holly W. 22. The Cooper York Fest is September 14 from 9 a.m. to 7 p.m. at Memphis Made Brewing. The taproom hosts this extension of CY Fest with food trucks (Soi Number 9 and New Wing Order) and music from Unapologetic & Friends. It’s free to enter. 23. If you decide to enter one of the restaurants/bars in Cooper Young on CY Fest Day, awesome! Just try not to use these establishments as your personal AC station, i.e., camp out at tables while others are waiting, and please, please – as someone who once tended bar at CY Fest and got her ass whipped – please tip appropriately. 24. Speaking of entering a neighborhood restaurant/bar: Railgarten is sure to be even more insanely crowded than it already is on the weekend. Please, please be careful when walking to this popular hotspot – use the crosswalk at Central and Cooper for safest crossing. Each weekend, I see hordes of young people (and even some families with strollers!) crossing in the middle of Central Avenue and maybe I’m getting old, but like, let’s at least use the crosswalk? Partying and pedestrians and driving don’t mix, so let’s take an extra few steps or few moments for some care and we can all continue to rage it out in a relatively safe way like midtown does on CY Fest day. 25. Like I said before, it’s pretty much a holiday to residents, so get yourself in festival mode, make a plan, and dive in. It’s “midtown Christmas” and one of the most fun days of the year. Make new friends, get some holiday shopping done, hear some music, drink some beer, and have a Pronto pup. 26. If festivals or crowds aren’t your thing, no worries. No need to get your pantaloons in a wad… just find something else to do. It’s a great weekend to check out another neighborhood like Crosstown or Downtown, ride a bike across the Big River Crossing, rent a kayak downtown or at Shelby Farms, see a movie, go to the Zoo, or take a day trip. Cooper Young 4-Miler Street Party, 2015. Photo by Holly W. Go there: Cooper Young Festival 2019 Cooper Young Neighborhood September 14, 2019 9 a.m. – 7 p.m. cooperyoungfestival.com Ed. Note: This post is an updated, re-formatted version of the annual CY Fest guide. Photos by Alex Shansky unless otherwise noted. Are you a home owner in Memphis, with a broken garage door? Call ASAP garage door today at 901-461-0385 or checkout https://ift.tt/1B5z3Pc

https://ilovememphisblog.com/2020/07/guide-to-cooper-young-festival-2019/

#I Love Memphis

0 notes

simonswithonem · 5 years ago

Text

Going for It Day 1

So, my son got into a fairly prestigious ballet summer intensive this year and we decided to leave him in Manhattan of all places for a month. And, after almost 28 days of running up a huge food bill and acting like New York party boy (and dancing his butt off 5 days a week), we are driving out to pick him up. In Manhattan. Me, wife, another kid. And doing stuff while there.

Life is allegedly about the journey, which makes sense as no one has told where “there” is yet, in terms of where the journey is taking me, besides pushing up daisies. So, in the spirit of this, I thought I’d document a few of my thoughts, stories, etc., along the way to NYC for anyone interested and still reading.

Here ‘tis:

Left house at 6 something this morning and my wife drove the first shift. I am a BAD passenger. She is a cautious and conscientious driver and this creates inner conflict with the raging a$$hole I become when I drive, or get in a car for any matter. Moral of the story? Take a chill pill, JP.

I took over after first bathroom break at the Hinsdale Oasis. Drove until somewhere on the 80/90 Turnpike in Indiana and had our second bathroom break. Everything was relatively relaxed at this point. NOTE: Today, I really did not drive like myself. I rarely went more than 5 or 6 mph over the limit, didn’t tailgate, and only complained quietly about a few cars. This made my wife pretty happy and she only had to white knuckle it and assume crash position a couple of times.

Stopped for lunch outside of Toledo at a Panera. Now, I don’t have an issue with Panera per se, but I really am feeling like a spineless soccer dad at this point. Driving a rented “mid-sized sport utility vehicle” (Hyundai Kona) that is slightly bigger than a skateboard, driving calmly largely in the right lane, eating Panera, listening to top 40 radio. The weird part is part of me likes this stuff, but another part of me wants to be blasting Rollins Band while driving 90 mph with the windows down in my Honda Pilot (at home and not in use due to no A/C - wife’s car is in the shop, another story) eating combos and swilling Mountain Dew. Gross and grow the hell up, but I can’t help it. I am trying, though, and try I must.

Things start to get interesting as we get to Youngstown on I-80. At this point we’re just off the tollway and so something has happened that has basically shut the whole damn freeway down. I’ve got to pee and we have only like 100 miles to go till we get to our hotel and this is NOT what I wanted to happen. At first I thought it was because it was near 4:30 and starting to hit rush hour traffic. But this was Holy Crap I’m-in-Downtown-Chicago-on-a-Friday-afternoon traffic and it was my wife who decided to go rogue and replot a new course for us, thanks to iPhone.

We wind up getting off the freeway and following a bunch of cars and trucks on some pretty small roads through a rural, residential area. Over a short period of time it is just us following this insane semi driver whose truck is pruning half of the trees on the Ohio/Pennsylvania border. He was regularly in the oncoming lane (to avoid completely mowing down low-hanging branches on the right side of the road) and had a slow-mo game of chicken with an oncoming car that made us realize dude was nuts. After some turns we wind up at an intersection where our GPS was telling us to go straight. There’s a sign posting a low bridge (13′ something) and I’m thinking, “Good - truck boy is going to turn and we can make some better time without having to dodge flying foliage.”

Nope. Guy goes for it - slowly, mind you. This was like watching that scene in one of the Harry Potter movies where the Knight Bus is contorting to fit between two vehicles and you’re thinking “No way.” So, this massive semi is creeping under this bridge and we’re watching in disbelief and waiting for the damn thing to grind up against the old metal bridge and get stuck. He almost makes it through and then gives it some gas and promptly catches his left rear corner of the trailer on the bridge and tears a chunk of the bridge off. My daughter in the back is sitting straight up, mouth wide open, looking googly-eyed at the limping truck and fallen debris on the ground (not sure if it was concrete or metal - both?).

As if this weren’t enough action, another truck in front of us some ways managed to pull down a cable line and is stopped, blocking the whole road while he and the crazy truck driver are trying to figure out how to lift up the cable line so they can fit their stupidly large behemoths through while driving through this rural, tree lined, very idyllic place. So, I got to witness truck limbo. They both lost but still managed to get through in under 10 minutes. Mind you, my rented Kona had no problem getting under the fallen (or mowed-down) line.

Eventually we got back to the freeway, got on no problem and then the rain started gushing down as we were going through a very hilly passage. Trucks roaring by me going 80 while I can barely see 20 feet in front of me with my wipers on Spaz mode. Yikes.

Finally made it to the hotel in DuBois, PA, and had complimentary pizza and salad in the hotel lounge area while others were riveted to Fox News and the racist orange guy’s rally in North Carolina. You can’t make this shit up. ‘Merica. I love it and I hate it all in the same. The food wasn’t too bad, though.

New day tomorrow, and I’ll be writing the next installment from Manhattan. Fun stuff. No more truck limbo, I hope.

0 notes

hey-i-wrote-a-story · 7 years ago

Text

Chapter 49 Confrontation

Scott mounted his bike as Kira stepped up behind him. “I’m riding with you”, she said. It wasn’t a request.

Liam, who had been about to sit back down behind Scott, took a step back with an “O-kaayy.”

Malia looked to Lydia. “You up to driving?”

Lydia shook her head slowly. “Not so much.”

“I’d rather be free to jump out as need be rather than be behind the wheel”, Maila stated.

“Me too”, Liam agreed.

Malia turned to Stiles, his stagnant jeep in the open garage behind him. “Stiles?”

Stiles looked defeated. “It still won’t start.”

Without further comment, Kira moved past Stiles, slapped her palm flat against the hood of his jeep and let loose with a tremendous electrical charge. In seconds, the jeep roared to life. She nodded to Stiles, then quickly rejoined Scott on his bike.

“All aboard”, Stiles shrugged.

As everyone else bundled into Stiles’ jeep, Scott and Kira fastened on their helmets. Scott said, “See you there”, and they were off.

No one had ever been in such a hurry to get to the Wasteland. Scott was a bit ahead of Stiles’ jeep, but Stiles was closing the gap fast. Inside the cab, Liam leaned forward. “So do you think Scott’s plan is gonna work?”, he asked for what must have been the third time.

“I’ve told you enough times already—do you need me to sing it as a musical number?”, Stiles said, the edge in his voice causing Liam to back up a little. “Stop freaking out and stick to the plan. That’s all you need to concentrate on.”

Tentatively, Liam asked, “How often to Scott’s plans work?”

There was a pregnant pause, then, “Sit back and buckle up”, Stiles ordered.

“What? Since when?”

“Suffice it to say driving safety has become a recent concern of mine.”

Liam did as he was told. Malia looked at him from her seat, with no safety belt, as if he were crazy or stupid. Liam just looked back as he tightened his belt strap, not sure if he should feel defensive or not.

“What? He told me to.”

From behind Scott, Kira raised her voice to be heard over the rushing wind. “Do you think we’ll get to them in time?”

Scott had no trouble hearing her, and answered back, “I’m hoping we don’t have to!”

Kira held her boyfriend tighter and pulled closer. She couldn’t have heard him correctly. “What?”, she shouted.

“We may not have to get to them”, Scott hollered over his shoulder. “If we can get to something else first!”

In Stiles’ jeep, which sped along to keep pace with Scott’s bike, Liam raised his voice to be heard from the back seat. “So if all that stuff they did to us—those illusion traps or whatever—were just meant to distract us while they got other people to sacrifice, am I right in thinking--?”

“Yes”, Stiles said loudly, to be heard over the air rushing by the jeep. “The three kids are going to sacrifice themselves!”

Lydia turned to Liam. “They’re going to take their own lives to send the monster back where it came from.”

“Think they’ve got some kind of ritual ready?”, Malia asked.

“Most likely”, Lydia answered.

“They never meant to hurt us”, Stiles said, gripping the wheel tighter. “We’re their heroes. They never wanted to do anything to harm the pack.”

“So now what do we do?”, Liam said,

“Be heroes”, Stiles said matter-of-factly, stepping down harder on the gas.

Scott turned his head and sniffed the air as it shot past his head. “Do you smell that?”, he asked.

Back in Stiles’ jeep, Malia turned to her boyfriend. “I smell something.”

Liam sat up in his seat. “So do I. And it’s getting stronger.”

Lydia leaned over the seat, placing a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “Kira’s signaling us to slow down.”

Stiles withheld any smart remarks about how there’d better be a good reason for this, because he knew there had to be. Scott had already stopped his bike and was standing nearby, his expression very controlled. Stiles put his jeep in park and leaned over the wheel. Before he could call to Scott to inquire about what was wrong, Malia was already out and onto the cracked tarmac. Kira was close at hand, but her sense of smell was not as keen as Scott’s or Malia’s.

“What scent are you picking up?”, she asked.

“Ozone”, Malia said.

“Like something burning the air”, Scott said. “The same smell you get after a lightning strike.” Scott inhaled deeply. He detected an accompanying smell that he’d been exposed to before, at terribly close range. A reptilian, animal smell that was very dank and very old. Scott spun on his heel to one side and pointed at empty air.

“There!”, he cried.

The air rippled like waves of heat rising from a scorching highway, and in front of everyone, the monster appeared, wings spread and jaws gaping. It let out a shriek. Its eyes sparked as electrical bolts danced from one orb to the other, its tensely muscled body ready to attack. The teenagers wasted no time. Stiles hurriedly pulled his jeep off to the side of the road and shouted, “Everybody out!”

Stiles leapt from the driver’s seat, yanking the seatback forward so Lydia could follow him. Liam had already exited the other side and hit the ground running. The monster was swooping down from above, diving directly at Scott. It thrust its wings downward, the tips digging into the road like steam shovels. Chunks of pavement were sent flying through the air as the monster flew forward, its wings leaving jagged trenches in its wake. Scott had to crouch low and run on all fours to avoid being crushed by the fragments or sliced in two by the wings. Everyone else sought cover from the hurtling debris as it crashed around them, bursting apart on impact like mortar shells. Everyone except Malia, who lashed out at the flying pavement, knocking it aside with her claws and throwing a few pieces back at the monster. Stiles grabbed her by the waist and pulled her down into a roadside ditch with the rest of the group. “Stick to the plan, honey”, he said.

Reluctantly, she nodded. On the scarred roadway, Scott now stood alone as the monster doubled back. Scott had gone full werewolf; ears pointed, fangs down, claws out, and eyes blazing Alpha red. He struck a defensive posture, snarling at the monster, challenging it, goading it on. The monster accepted the challenge and increased the speed of its descent.

In the ditch, Liam said, “Why didn’t it just attack while it was invisible?”

“I don’t think it can do both at the same time”, Lydia said.

“Makes sense”, Stiles agreed, still catching his breath from the leap into the ditch. “A Klingon Bird of Prey can’t fire phasers when it’s cloaked.”

Liam stared at Stiles. “What??”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Man, you people need help.”

The one who appeared to need help was Scott, who stood alone against the flying monster ten times his size. The monster liked those odds, as it moved on instinct, using its size and frightening shriek to intimidate its lone opponent. But that was the thing; Scott wasn’t alone. As he had hoped, the monster released a powerful volley of electricity from its eyes. Alpha or not, the impact would burn Scott to a crisp. Provided the bolt ever connected.

With blinding speed, Kira leapt in front of her boyfriend, the eldritch energy of the fox spirit burning above her lithe form. Sword in hand, she thrust the blade before her, taking the brunt of the blast. Her eyes blazed gold and her feet sank into the sort pavement as she roared defiantly at the attacking monster. The monster pulled back in its flight and doubled its assault, opening its mouth to release more raw electricity in a blinding cascade that lit Kira’s sword to a burning glow. Lightning lances of arced in all directions as Kira stood fast against the onslaught. The monster shrieked in defiance. This was not supposed to be happening. Nothing had ever blocked its electrical attack before. Well, there was a first time for everything.

Kira swore something incredibly vile in Japanese, and Scott was silently thankful he didn’t speak the language. Kira thrust her arms forward, sending the deadly bolt back at its sender. The bolt struck the monster in the chest, hitting it hard, scorching orange flesh and burning muscle as it caused a feedback loop within its body. The monster cried in rage and pain. It then took to the skies to put some distance between itself and its foes. It couldn’t rise as high as it wanted to, but it was still just out of reach from further attack.

Kira looked at her sword, which was still smoking. “Guess there’s something to that fan art after all”, she observed.

“Like we planned, everyone!”, Scott shouted. “Get into position!”

Moving with speed and precision, Scott’s friends gathered around him. They stood together and stood strong. Scott took the lead.

Stiles held the rear of their circle. His knees trembling, his mind flashed back to less than an hour before when they had all left his house to carry out Scott’s mad plan. He had touched his friend on the arm and pulled him away from the rest of the group.

“Scott, are you sure you need me for this? I appreciate being included, but…I don’t even have any powers.”

Scott smiled reassuringly and grasped his best friend’s shoulder. “You have more power than you think. We need you for this. Trust me.”

Stiles felt a little bit better for that, but only a little. As they turned to leave, he added, “If this thing kills me, I am totally gonna kick your ass.”

The Unspoken glared at the young heroes, its eyes coating with the viscous ooze that would enhance its vision. When facing any supernatural foe, the creature instinctively sought out any potential weakness it could exploit, which its enhanced vision would reveal. The monster started when it looked at the half dozen through that oily veil. The energy the Unspoken had previously seen that bound Scott and Stiles together was stronger than ever. But there was much more than that. Powerful bands of intense energy flowed back and forth between all of them. From the Alpha to the Kitsune, from the Alpha to his human companion and from that companion back again to the Alpha. The Banshee’s energy went out to both the Kitsune and the Alpha, as well as extending a separate connection to the human. The young human’s connection to the Banshee was nearly as strong as the one he shared with the Alpha. As was the pulsing energy he shared with the werecoyote, and her to him. Likewise, the Coyote was connected to the Banshee by a glowing tether. And the young one, the pup, the Beta, with a broad glowing band that spoke of phenomenal potential, extended his energies to his Alpha, and to a lesser extent to all the others. The shared strands of energy between these beings looked so bright to the Unspoken that it was nearly blinding.

The monster hissed, squinting its eyes and returning them to their normal sight. It had not expected this. It was not just facing six individual opponents. It was facing one, made up of six parts. It was facing a pack. If the Unspoken was going to defeat them, it was going to take considerable effort to do so. The creature swooped down, intent on scattering the pack in an attempt to lessen their strength. But to the monster’s surprise, the group of teenagers only drew in tighter.

“Everybody get behind me!”, Scott called out.

As if they had been practicing this for days, the pack fell in behind their leader. With glaring red eyes, Scott looked at the descending monster. By the time the winged creature realized what was happening, it was already too late.

Scott roared.

It was louder than anything his pack had heard from him before. They had to turn away and cover their ears as the furious sound ripped from his throat, sent forward as a weapon. The sound struck the monster like a physical thing, halting his forward movement and staggering him back. The creature flapped its wings desperately, trying to pull up and avoid Scott’s onslaught. It didn’t work. The monster landed roughly on the ground, stumbling, offering a meager shriek back at Scott. It was too stunned to offer much of a threat. As Scott’s roar faded, the monster raised itself up, but not to attack. It had been hit hard and knew it needed to retreat in order to give itself time to recover. Scott was not going to give it that time. He roared again, louder than before, sending the monster flailing backwards, clearly in agony, to strike the cracked asphalt hard with its back. The creature opened its mouth wide to wail either in defiance or in pain, but it couldn’t produce any sound. If Scott’s pack was going to take this thing down, now was the time, and they all knew it.

Using its wings as a man would use his elbows, the monster worked to right itself. It was still horribly off-balance. Scott took advantage of that moment. He lunged forward, fangs bared and eyes blazing red, his mouth wide to unleash another roar. Instinctively, the creature threw its wings up over its face in an attempt to protect itself. It had no idea that that was the worst thing it could have done.

Kira leapt forward, her own eyes glowing yellow, with her sword slicing through the air. The air wasn’t the only thing it sliced. The monster screamed as Kira’s sword cut through its left wing, creating a tear more than six feet long. Again the creature staggered back, its head stabbing downward to strike Kira, or at least knock her off-balance. But the young kitsune was too fast for the lumbering creature. With the speed and grace of a ballet dancer, Kira spun away from the monster’s stabbing jaws. She then slid along the ground like a bullet, too low for the monster to reach, then leapt up again, bringing her sword down to sever the taut membrane of its right wing, causing more damage than before. The cut was diagonal, lancing across the length of the wing’s center section at least twelve feet. The creature wailed again, a high-pitched screech of agony and rage. The sound was filled with something else besides defiance, however. The monster was afraid, and it showed in its voice.

Kira swiftly leapt out of the way, executing an incredible backflip that sent her well clear of the monster’s thrashing wings. She landed softly on the ground without a sound, her sword still at the ready, her stance firm and guarded. She shot a look at Scott, who saw it and understood. Needing no further prompting, Scott raced forward, directly into the mouth of the monster. Injured and desperate, the creature lumbered forward toward Scott, spitting out a meager cloud of energy thistles. If it could ensnare the Alpha with his controlling spores, or at least put him on the defensive, it might have some chance of escape. Scott had anticipated this. As he closed in on the monster, running directly into the hovering cloud of glowing spores, Scott launched himself into the air, flying high over the head of the massive creature, twisting his body as his leap reached its apex, steering himself downward to the exact spot where he wanted to go. The spores never touched him. They didn’t even come close. When Scott hit the ground, he was already running.

Scott ran back towards the monster, now initiating a strike from behind, claws extended, he thrashed with all his might at the monster’s legs, rending flesh and sending fountains or blood outward, glowing bright orange, stinking, and radiating intense heat. The monster wailed again, the fear not only prevalent in its voice but replacing its rage entirely. It had never been so grievously wounded in its life. It knew that if it couldn’t escape, its life was about to come to an end. Hobbled, the monster was unable to strike back or get away. It stumbled, crying out in anguish as its legs gave way beneath it, bringing it down to its bony knees, which offered no support. There was a hideous cracking sound as the broken legs of the monster struck the dusty pavement. It fell forward, reflexively using its wings to catch itself. That was a mistake. Pain shot through its torn appendages, making its oily eyes bulge in shock and anguish. Lightning flashed across its eyes to lance down its wings, its own energy making it wince.

Scott ran up the creature’s back, following its ragged spine, and easily avoiding its thrashing tail. Leaping again, Scott thrust his claws into the uppermost joints of the monster’s wings, shredding the membranes and shattering bone. The monster shrieked once more, with less volume than before, the upper-register tones of its agony cutting off sharply as it collapsed onto the street with a sickening thud.

Scott had already leapt over the monster’s head before it fell, landing solidly on the ground, his sneakers kicking up a small cloud of dust and gravel. The monster huffed a final desperate breath to defend itself, spitting more energy thistles out of the sides of its mouth like flecks of drool. The pathetic spores floated perhaps two or three feet into the air before fizzling out like dying lightning bugs. The creature groaned, its eyes flowing over with a continuous circulation of orange blood and oily black pus. The creature tried to move its wings again, sending sharp jolts of pain through its body. The monster winced, then trembled. As it shook uncontrollably for a moment in what looked like a seizure, its broken wings leaked a glowing viscous ooze that spread across the torn portions of wing membrane to stretch thin, snap, and spatter upon the pavement, where it sputtered, sizzled, and sank into the melting pavement. Once or twice, a tiny arc of electricity flicked out from torn wing or shattered bone. The monster was down.

0 notes

tyleroakley-obsessed · 7 years ago

Quote

Cooper Young Fest is – at least in midtown – pretty much an official holiday. For the last 30 years, this neighborhood event has grown to be one of the largest one-day events in Tennessee. Expect about 135,000 people to flood the area during the day-long event. Here are 25 essential things to know and pro-tips to help you make the most of the day. 1. Cooper Young Fest is September 16, 2017 from 9 a.m. to 7 p.m. It’s free to enter. 2. This year’s CY Fest Day is again a Memphis Tigers home football game, which kicks off at 11 a.m. against UCLA – a big game. Gird your loins, midtown. 3. This year, there are more than 400 vendors selling everything you can think of: arts, crafts, ceramics, jewelry, vintage stuff, clothes, t-shirts, food, Memphis stuff, and much more. 4. It’s family-friendly, at least until the later afternoon. There’s a Kid’s Area with fun things for the little ones. Leave the pets at home, though. 5. Cooper will be blocked off from Central to Walker. Young Avenue will be blocked off from west of the Young Avenue Deli to Meda. Here’s a general map of the area. You can find maps of all the vendor booths here. 6. Expect crowds. About 135,000 people came to CY Fest at some point in past years. Arrive early to avoid some of this. 7. Bring cash. Vendors may accept credit cards, but you can never be sure. Cooper Young Festival in 2014 at opening time. It was weirdly cold. Usually it’s insanely hot. 8. As crowds grow – and especially with the football game happening- cell service might be spotty. And by that I mean, you’ll like having some trouble texting/calling. Plan accordingly. 9. Wear sunscreen, unless you just want to get your last sunburn of the summer this weekend. 10. Make a plan for parking. The next five tips are about parking. Cooper Young Fest in the afternoon, 2015. It was insanely hot. 11. If you must drive and park for some reason, do it early for best street parking selection. Prepare to walk. Streets in the surrounding half-mile (mile, even) or so will fill up fast. Some streets will be blocked. Don’t forget there’s a football game at 11 a.m. at the Liberty Bowl. Please be careful when crossing streets, folks! (And if you’re driving, take extra care; it’s festival day.) 12. If you can’t get there until later, I’d highly suggest an alternative to driving yourself. Lyft, Uber, or take a cab. I’m not sure what the surge fares/wait times will be that day, but probably crazy. 13. Or, ride your bike. There will be a free Bike Corral in the Bluff City Sport parking lot (at Cooper and York) where you can park your bike while you enjoy the festival. Open from 9 a.m. to 7 p.m. 14. Or, park in the CBU lot and walk over or take a shuttle. I’m trying to find out more info on this. In years past, it was $20 per car to park. 15. Remember that it’s totally free to enter the festival, so a few bucks for parking or a ride isn’t a big deal. 16. There are three music stages; be sure you don’t miss that part of the Festival. Full lineup. 17. The Main Stage (in front of Young Ave. Deli) has music from 11:15 a.m. until the last band starts at 5:15 p.m., including Joyce Cobb, The Band Camino, and Star and Micey. 18. The 901 Comics Stage (First Congo Parking Lot) has music starting at 12:15 p.m. until the last band starts at 4:15 p.m. including Heels and Dead Soldiers. 19. The Memphis Grizzlies Stage (at Young and Meda) has music starting at 12:30 p.m. until the last band starts at 4:30 p.m., including Sonic Pulse, Troika, and The PRVLG. 20. Do All The Things! Experience all the fun at CY Fest: peruse the booths, talk to people, catch a few demos, and get some grub. 21. The Cooper Young 4-Miler is Friday, September 15 at 7 p.m. The neighborhood goes all out, with yard parties, cheering sections, and I’ve even heard of folks handing out Jello-O shots for runners to grab as they jog by. (See the “toga” party photo below.) 22. The Cooper York Fest is September 16 from 9 a.m. to 7 p.m. at Memphis Made Brewing. The taproom hosts this extension of CY Fest with food trucks, entertainment, vendors, and special release beers. It’s free to enter. 23. If you decide to enter one of the restaurants/bars in Cooper Young on CY Fest Day, awesome! Just try not to use these establishments as your personal AC station, i.e., camp out at tables while others are waiting, and please, please – as someone who has bartended at CY Fest before – tip appropriately. 24. Speaking of entering a neighborhood restaurant/bar: Railgarten is sure to be even more insanely crowded than it already is on the weekend. Please, please be careful when walking to this popular hotspot – use the crosswalk at Central and Cooper for safest crossing. Each weekend, I see hordes of young people (and even some families with strollers!) crossing in the middle of Central Avenue and maybe I’m getting old, but like, let’s at least use the crosswalk? Partying and pedestrians and driving don’t mix, so let’s take an extra few steps or few moments for some care and we can all continue to rage it out in a relatively safe way like midtown does on CY Fest day. 25. Like I said before, it’s pretty much a holiday to residents, so get yourself in festival mode, make a plan, and dive in. It’s “midtown Christmas” and one of the most fun days of the year. Make new friends, get some holiday shopping done, hear some music, drink some beer, and have a Pronto pup. Cooper Young 4-Miler Street Party, 2015 Go there: Cooper Young Festival 2017 Cooper Young Neighborhood September 16, 2017 9 a.m. – 7 p.m. cooperyoungfestival.com Ed. Note: This post is an updated, re-formatted version of the annual CY Fest guide. Are you a home owner in Memphis, with a broken garage door? Call ASAP garage door today at 901-461-0385 or checkout http://ift.tt/1B5z3Pc

http://ilovememphisblog.com/2017/09/guide-to-cooper-young-festival-2017/

#I Love Memphis

0 notes