#and like i told him i just wanted to test drive some vehicles but he was like can i sell u this suv

[msbigredmachine]

Kitty Kat (Roman Reigns)

After a lifetime of searching, the Tribal Chief may have finally found the woman of his dreams. Post Summerslam 2024.

Warnings: SMUT (yes i know its excessive im sorry 😭)

Word Count: 5.3k

A/N: This got way too long bc I talk too much. I tried to shorten it I promise but I just couldn't. I do hope you like it either way...

Song inspiration: Again - Lenny Kravitz

Credit to the owners of the pics and gifs

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He could get used to this.

As he stepped off the plane, Joe discreetly adjusted the bulge in his pants and exhaled deeply, allowing himself a giddy smile in anticipation for what was to come. 

He couldn’t wait to see her again. His Kitty Kat. The interesting part was that this time, she’d flown him out to come spend the week with her, in First Class, no less. “It’s a five-hour flight from Cleveland to L.A., so I want you to be as comfortable as possible, Daddy,” she’d told him. Never in his wildest dreams did he envision being ‘flewed out’. He’d been the one flying her out in his private jet, chartering luxury vehicles to bring her to him. The reverse felt strange and would take some getting used to, but it did feel nice to be pampered and taken care of for once.

Seated comfortably in the back of the Cadillac Escalade driving him through the City of Angels, he reminisced about last night in Cleveland. It was fun to hear the crowd again, the adrenaline rush of his entrance music blaring all around the Browns Stadium. It was a long absence from wrestling for him, darkened by the passing of his father, followed by the whirlwind preparation and execution of his funeral, grand, exhausting and emotional. Kat being by his side for all of it was a precious elixir he could never repay her for, but perhaps he could start tonight.

His thoughts were interrupted by his phone ringing. It was an unknown number, but against his better judgment, he answered and hoped it wasn’t some weirdo fan. “Hello?”

“You left town without telling me? I saw you all over Summerslam last night!” the shrill, familiar voice responded.

Scratch that. Now he wished it was a fan. “I know I blocked your ass. This is stalking,” was his cold greeting. 

“I just want us to talk, Joe! We can’t just end things the way we did!”

“Ain’t nothin’ to talk about, Ebony. I got the DNA test I wanted. Go find your baby daddy and leave me the fuck alone.”

“Are you ever gonna forgive me? I made a mistake!” Ebony pleaded. “You didn’t even invite me to Sika’s funeral. That hurt my feelings, Joe.”

“Bitch, don’t piss me off!” Joe countered angrily. “Blurting out that I’m not Josiah’s daddy was not a mistake! I also found the messages in your phone, remember? You and your little group chat laughed at me, laughed about me raising a kid that ain't mine!”

“That’s a female ass trait, y’know, lookin’ through my phone and invading my privacy!” Ebony complained.

“You can invade these nuts,” Joe dismissed, “You cheated on me and lied about the paternity of your son! That’s enough for me to wash my hands off of you and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

For a second, Ebony was quiet. Then, “Let me guess. You’re with that uppity rich bitch. She was at your dad’s funeral, both of y'all looked so cozy in the videos. She's the reason you don’t wanna work things out, right? Weren’t you seeing her before we broke up? Who’s the cheater now, huh?”

Joe scoffed in disbelief. After all she’d done to make his life a living hell, she was still gaslighting him. “We were over long before I started seeing her. I only hung around cuz I thought the kid you were carrying was mine. Don’t act like your whorish toxic ways didn’t drive me into her arms in the first place! You broke us up, so I’ve moved on from your evil ass. Simple.”

Ebony kissed her teeth. “You are so disrespectful to me, always have been. You never cared about me. It was all about your fucking wrestling. You were always gone! I was lonely! I needed you and you didn't give a shit!”

“So that’s why you opened your legs for some bum, got knocked up, and lied that I was the father? You disrespected yourself!” He felt himself getting riled up and had to compose himself. He would not let his ex ruin his day. “Imma make this clear so even you can understand. We. Are. Done. Call me again and it’s my attorney you’ll be talking to.” Cutting off the call, he then blocked the number and deleted it for added measure.

Fuck that ho.

Anyway, back to his girl, Kat. It had been an amazing few months so far with her. Of course, he’d googled her in the beginning, asked Heyman to run a background check to make sure she was legit and not a psychopath like his ex. Katrina Sullivan was one of the most famous music producers in the world and the top executive at her renowned publishing label. She was a big time player in her industry just like he was, a star in her own right, and it was a match made in Heaven.

Not only was she incredibly beautiful, but sex with her was a wild ride. She gave him a run for his money whenever they fucked. She was all about new experiences and wasn’t too prissy to fuck inside a car or suck him off outside a dive bar. He blushed every time he remembered the freaky shit they got up to after his loss at Wrestlemania. Long story short, she made him feel much better about dropping the belt. He loved that she loved sex as much as he did, and if he wasn’t hooked on her before, he was completely addicted after that night. 

And it wasn’t all about the physical. There was an emotional bond they shared, a connection that he’d never felt with anyone else before her. Talking with her felt like talking with a friend. He would unload his good days and bad days on her and she would listen to all of it without passing judgment. He did the same for her and was proud to be the one she learned to trust after her own past heartbreaks. Joe wished he’d had the courage to leave Ebony earlier. Perhaps he would have found the woman who had become his peace, his safe haven, and closed the hole in his heart much, much sooner.

A Google Map search helped him find the best florist in town. The ladies in the shop ooh'ed and ahh'ed over the beautiful bouquet of roses he bought and how lucky his lady was. But he thought he was the lucky one. As he took a deep breath and inhaled the flowers, he felt his stomach flutter at the thought of her beautiful face, her smile, her warm embrace. Joe knew he was in love, but he didn’t quite know how to tell her yet. It was weird enough that he lowkey felt like a thot being flown out. He really didn’t mind, though. All he wanted was to be with her and just be in her presence, in her aura. He would tell her when he was ready.

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

Kat’s mansion was the stuff of dreams. Isolated on the hills of the Pacific Palisades overlooking lush Californian greenery, it was one of her rewards as the most in-demand producer in music today. The living room segued into the kitchen, which welcomed him with the smell of freshly cooked food. Pasted to her stainless steel refrigerator by a small circular ‘Acknowledge Me’ magnet, was a note from her saying that she’d just headed out for a last-minute meeting and directed him to the oven where a warm skillet of sirloin steak and seasoned roasted potatoes waited for him. She had also stocked her fridge with his Megafit meals along with C4 Energy drinks and a few bottles of her own branded tequila. His baby was spoiling him rotten and he was digging it.

He first put the fresh flowers in a vase he filled with water before settling down to eat. He wished she was here with him, but he understood more than anyone how busy things could be when you were at the top of your game. He was proud of her and wanted her to get all the coins she deserved. Halfway through his meal, he pulled out his phone and checked on her.

After dinner, he embarked on a little tour around her breathtaking abode which ended up taking several minutes to complete. Joe had some nice homes of his own around the globe, but this floored them all. The edifice dripped with luxury and was crafted to perfection, just like his Kitty Kat was. He enjoyed the gorgeous city view from her balcony as he sipped on some tequila. Her bathroom was spacious and had a waterfall shower that he luxuriated in when he stepped inside. One side of her walk-in wardrobe was lined with an assortment of brand new t-shirts, pants and dress shirts all for him. Of course she knew his size; she’d ripped his clothing off of him on many occasions. His stomach was doing flips as the time continued to tick by. It was hilarious that the big bad Tribal Chief was acting all giddy at the mere thought of a woman, but here he was, entangled in her expensive satin sheets, counting down the minutes until she was back in his arms.

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

The sound of running water jerked him awake. The plane ride must have worn him out more than he thought; he didn’t even realize when he fell asleep. The sky outside was now pitch black but the bathroom lights were switched on. As he sat upright in the bed, something rolled down his bare chest and onto his lap. He looked down and his breath hitched. A sheer, baby pink-colored thong, just removed. Unable to resist, he held it up to his nose and shivered as her sensual aroma filled his nostrils and sent all his blood rushing south. With newfound enthusiasm, he climbed out of the bed and padded over to the bathroom. 

Katrina’s back was turned to him, standing over the tub as she drained the bath. Draped in a fluffy lilac bathrobe that barely covered her backside as she bent over, Joe chose to stand there and admire her, letting his eyes follow the rivulets of water that trickled down her long shapely legs. He trailed his gaze along the backs of her knees and her oh-so-sexy thighs, stopping at her luscious derrière where he found her pussy lips, slick and glistening, winking at him. He groaned out loud at the sight, feeling his bulge stir in his drawstring shorts.

Alerted by the noise he made, Kat spun around and sighed. "Oh, damn," she frowned and bounced her fist against her thigh.

Joe raised an eyebrow at her reaction. “Did I frighten you?”

“Not really. I wanted to wake you up by sucking your dick.” 

Chuckling heartily, he stepped closer. "You still can, baby. Don’t let me stop you,” he said, sealing their lips together in a kiss he’d been thinking about for weeks. He held her tight, molding their bodies together as time seemed to stop all around them. The anticipation had been building all day and just this moment alone was worth the long wait.  

Joe sighed happily against her lips, his fingers massaging the back of her neck. “Mmm, I can tell you missed me. Did you miss me, baby?”

“You know I did, Daddy,” she whispered back. It had been months in the making, but Kat was thrilled that he was finally here in her humble abode. She pulled back to regard him, marveling at the sheer height and width of him, his bare, broad chest showcasing that beautiful tattoo and all those muscles. Fuck, he was so hot. “I saw the roses in the kitchen, they’re beautiful,” she said.

“Not as beautiful as you are, baby,” Joe answered, brushing his thumb along her bottom lip. “How was your meeting?”

Kat huffed and rolled her eyes. “Waste of my time. Don’t really wanna talk about it,” she added, changing the topic to a more exciting one. “You looked so good last night, babe. I could see how happy you were to be back.”

“I was,” he admitted, his light brown eyes lighting up. “Bro, hearing the fans go bananas when my music hit was insane. And all those fingers in the air, too. Four years of bustin' my ass finally paying off.”

“Huh. I had one finger out too, but it wasn’t in the air, and I was layin’ in bed. Naked,” Kat teased, fluttering her long eyelashes at him.

The thought of her writhing around in bed aroused by his show of violence caused another tightening in his shorts. With a growl in his voice, he responded, "Show me." 

“Wait.” She put up one hand before he could grab her. “Before we get started…I never got to ask you because we were so busy with the funeral…But did you take the DNA test?” she asked, watching with dismay as his face fell. He looked away with a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, something she learned he did when he was reeling in his emotions. 

“Yeah. Josiah’s not mine,” he replied sadly.

Two distinct emotions of her own rushed through Kat at this news. Relief, that he was no longer tied to Ebony and he could now, finally, move on with his life. Move on with her. Disappointment, on his behalf, knowing that he had enjoyed getting to know the baby boy he’d thought was his child. “I’m so sorry,” was all she could muster.

“Don’t be. At least I know the truth now. I care about the kid, but he’s not my responsibility any more,” he choked out, the sting of losing that sweet little boy still raw and painful.

“Oh, baby.” Kat rubbed her hands up and down his broad back to soothe him. She regretted downing the mood and sought to fix it. “What can I do?” 

Joe shook his head and sank into her embrace. “Just be with me, like this. I wanna be with you. Thank you for bringing me out here, it’s exactly what I needed.”

“Of course. You know I gotchu,” she assured him, butterflies sprouting inside her belly as he dropped feather-light kisses on her neck, trailing along her shoulder which was soon bare as he slipped off her robe and dropped it to the floor. She tugged down his shorts and her hungry gaze zeroed in on that other part of him that she missed. All those FaceTime calls and selfies did very little justice to the real thing. This was his first time on her turf, and she was determined to use this week wisely, especially as this extended period didn’t quite exist before. 

In the beginning, their meetings were brief and eventful, a couple of hours’ escape from the madness going on in their individual lives. Meet up, scorch the sheets, and wake to the sound of the rustle of clothes pulled from the floor, the sharp zipping of bags, quick kisses goodbye followed by the front door quietly clicking open and shut. At each other’s mercy at sunset then disappearing before dawn to resume reality. It was a thrill at first but as time passed, Kat realized she wanted more with him. She wanted to begin and end her days in his sturdy arms. Wanted them to shower together, to eat together and spend much more time together. Simply put, she wanted to be a real couple, and she was ecstatic when he confessed that he wanted the same. Coming to L.A. was a great start and it excited Kat to no end.

Hand in hand, they walked together, naked, out of the bathroom. She giggled as he followed closely behind her, kissing her neck and touching her body along the way. As they reached the bed, Joe noticed the bottle of champagne sitting in a bucket full of ice on the nightstand. Kat read his mind. “Just a lil’ sumn to celebrate your arrival,” she clarified, as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her to stand between his legs. His gaze was soft, yet beautifully intense as he ran his hands up her thighs and her hips, cupping her backside and bringing her even closer to him. He pressed his lips to her stomach, adorning her belly with gentle, open-mouthed kisses that felt so good she moaned pleasurably in approval.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispered against her brown skin, his voice clear yet filled with a vulnerability he’d never felt before.

Kat smiled down at him. “Took you long enough. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“For real?” His heart pounding so hard in his chest he was sure she could hear it.

Her smile widened as she loosened his ponytail, letting the long dark locks fall and frame his breathtaking features like the angel he was. Her angel. “Yeah. I mean…After everything we’ve shared, after getting to know the beautiful person that you are, of course I’m in love with you too.”

They were words he’d been hoping to hear from her for a while now, and now that he had, he was robbed of every sensation other than joy and peace and the burning need to make love to her nonstop for the rest of his stay in the West Coast. “You’re beautiful too, baby girl,” he rasped, drawing her back in, “So fuckin’ beautiful…”

They clung to each other, making out with increasing passion, both of them extremely aroused and more desperate than ever in the wake of this wonderful revelation. As they kissed, he slipped one hand over her breast, kneading gently, eliciting from her those purring sounds that earned her sexy little nickname. He missed his Kitty Kat so much. The last time they were together was at his father’s funeral, and he couldn't be with her the way he wanted to be. Now that they were all alone there was nothing stopping him from having his way with her.

But apparently, she had other plans. 

She pushed him hard in the chest, smirking at his surprised grunt as he hit the mattress rather unceremoniously. “Get in,” she instructed him.

He frowned petulantly at her, but did as he was told, dragging himself backwards up the bed with his eyes on her at all times. He felt his mouth go dry as she crawled towards him on all fours like the sexy ass kitten she was. As she reached the space between his open legs, she surprised him by picking up her thong and winding it around his wrists, securing it tight before pushing his arms over his head. 

“Baby…” he pouted.

“Shhhh,” Kat shushed him quietly, thrilled by the submission in his eyes, the surrender in his soft moan, his dick hard and erect in anticipation. Having control over a man like him felt so empowering. Though sexually submissive to him, Kat always enjoyed it when the roles were switched. It never lasted long though, so she planned to make the most of it.

Climbing back down his body, she rubbed her hands on the expanse of his thighs, his caramel skin warm beneath her fingers. She moved higher, coming dangerously close to the pleasure between his legs but avoiding it, for now. She wanted to touch it but the wait was more exciting. Her hands disappeared to squeeze his ass cheeks, and then reappeared over his hips, traveling along the sharpened ridges of his six-pack abs and up to his broad chest. Her body followed suit, sliding up until her thighs bracketed his sides. The little hiss that escaped him as she sat on his torso thrilled her; she knew right away that he could feel her warm moistness against his skin. Her fingers found his nipples next, toying with them before leaning in to lick them, and giggled with amusement when his dick sprang high enough to smack against her backside.

“Fuck, baby, feel what you do to me?” Joe hissed, his cock jumping again as her mouth warmed his neck, nibbling on the shell of his ear as she whispered to him in the softest, deadliest timbre: 

"I’m just getting started, big guy."

Sitting upright on top of him, she reached for the ice bucket, scooping out an ice cube in the shape of an exquisite diamond. The ravenous look in Joe’s eyes matched hers as she sipped on the cube, letting the cold melt on her tongue and travel down her throat. Then, she bent down and kissed him, her cold tongue quickly warming up from the heat of his mouth. The wet muscles moved together in a sweet dance, delightedly intertwining, obsessed with the taste of each other. Kat pressed the ice cube to his chest, giggling when he jerked from the cold, and drew figure eights with it, watching rivulets of water trickle down the sides of his body. She put the ice cube on his right nipple and watched it harden. Then she replaced the ice with her warm mouth on his cold nipple.

“Shit, baby you killin’ me,” he moaned, looking on with hooded eyelids as she kissed down his body. She stopped between his legs, bowing her body in front of his erection, long and thick and hard, precum glistening on his slit. Her tongue darted out to taste it, licking her lips with pleasure. Giving him a sly wink, she took the tip of his dick in her mouth and sucked, winding her tongue around the head like a hungry snake. The moan that escaped his lips was needy and borderline painful, causing her eyes to light up in triumph. 

“When I get my hands on you…” he growled, his expression almost pissed, but Kat knew better. His frustration mingled with his lack of control, control she’d taken from him all day by calling the shots from his travel to the food he ate. The sensual power play continued as she massaged his dick, the thick velvety flesh twitching in her hands as his hands twitched in his makeshift binds. Using the flat of her tongue, she licked up and down his shaft, making slurping sounds that were drowned out by his groans as she spread her saliva all over his dick. She was addicted. He tasted so good and she craved to have her fill.

Putting a smaller ice cube in her mouth, she chewed it, crushing the ice with her teeth. From there, she hugged his dick with her lips, dousing the heat of his flesh with the coldness of her throat. Tiny bits of ice melted against his shaft as she sucked and tongued every inch of him. She could feel his chest heaving and his abs crunching, could hear his strangled moans as he got warmer and got harder in her mouth. He was right where she wanted him. Resting her weight on his burly thighs, she moaned to him to let go, and smiled when seconds later a shout burst from him, his hips arching off the bed as he unloaded down her throat. She drank her fill of him, glancing up to watch the pleasure ravage his huge body, giving a little smile as he floated down back to earth. 

“Oh my god…” he breathed, his body jerking when she pulled away, letting his dick, slick with her spit and his cum, plop down on his thigh. With one more long, soft kiss to his length, she slithered back up his body, pressing her lips to his for a sweet, delicate kiss which heavily contrasted with the heaviness of his dick brushing along her now-wet opening. Pleasing him turned her on in a way her notoriously composed self could never comprehend.

“You came so hard for me, baby. The look on your face was everything,” Kat gifted him a teasing lash of her tongue against his as she ran her hands up his arms to toy with the sheer material holding him hostage. Lifting her body up, she slowly sank down on his dick, a gasp slipping from her when the smooth tip pierced through her soft, slick folds, enabling her to wind her hips to take him all the way in. They both moaned as the thickness of him nudged her sweet spot, coaxing a whine out of her as she wrapped her arms around his neck, wanting him close, making out with him while slowly rocking her body back and forth, grinding her clit on him. It stunned her to this day, how she was able to take him all, his length and girth filling her and hitting her most sensitive spot right away. The power that coursed through her at making him succumb to her will, no different from any pinning combination or submission move, was intoxicating. Her moans and his groans reverberated through the bedroom, the air thick with the scent of sex as she loved on him.

“Untie me. Now,” Joe commanded out of nowhere, the roughness of his tone surprising Kat. One look at the power and pleasure on his beautiful face told her he was not taking no for an answer. Obediently, she  reached up and unraveled the underwear from around his wrists, and she had barely tossed it aside when his hands came around her, finding her backside and thrusting deeper into her. Finally, he could touch her the way he wanted. He loved her ass, enjoyed the feel of it gyrating against his palms. He landed a heavy-handed slap on it, making her burrow her face in his neck with a soft cry, the sound growing more desperate as his fingers caressed the supple flesh of her ass while grinding up into her, making her feel so good.

“Such a badass bitch, yet so weak for me. Weak for this dick,” he purred to her with a kiss to her shoulder. The wicked gleam in his eyes had Kat both frustrated and aroused, but the unmistakable glimpse of lust clouding those eyes showed he was just as weak for her. With every downward motion of her hips, she could see him become more mesmerized, his breaths huskier, his face contorting with unbridled bliss as her pussy squeezed his length in deep, throbbing pulls. Sensing him trying to regain control, she beat him to it, pushing up and steadying herself on top of him. With both hands planted on his strong chest, she adjusted her legs in a squat and began bouncing on his dick, up and down, fucking him, taking from him what she wanted, giving him what he needed. 

“Fuck, that’s it, kitten, ride the shit outta my dick,” Joe groaned, his huge hands now clamped around her waist. “I’m here now, baby. I gotchu. Take it out on me, take all that stress out on me.” It was a wonder to watch her, her knees up and wide apart, treating him to the sight of her moist flesh gliding all the way down his turgid flesh and back up, leaving the base of his dick a wet, slippery mess. It looked incredible and felt even better. “You so wet for me, baby girl,” he rasped, reaching up to massage her bouncing breasts. “I love it when you use me. You love using Daddy’s big dick, huh?”

"Yes, Daddy I love it...Shiiit, oh my goddd!" Kat threw her head back, her moans shaky, her body trembling on top of him as waves of ecstasy washed over her thanks to the orgasm wracking her from head to toe.  

“Unnhh yeah, come for Daddy, come on my dick,” he moaned back to her, his full lips parted and panting, his eyes boring into hers as he watched her come undone. Overcome with passion, he sat upright and tugged her flush against him, his breath hitching as the action sank him even deeper into her. He needed to hold her to him, needed to make her all his. “I ain’t pullin’ out,” he announced, moving her on him again, “I'ma come all up inside you, baby.”

His words sank in, but any coherent answer she had disappeared with another rake of his dick against her g-spot. Wordlessly, Kat snuggled into his warm embrace, locking her arms and legs around him as she continued to grind on him in a deliciously erotic rhythm. Wrapping his arms around her waist, Joe planted a big kiss upon her throat, her jaw, then her lips, enjoying the taste of her moans as his hips rolled along with hers like a choreographed dance. Emotions were high as they joined as one, surrounded by the sounds of the newfound love they were finally expressing to each other. The mattress bounced beneath them, the legless bed rocking in tune with their heated bodies rocking on top of it. Every worry they had was gone and replaced with a hunger and need for the other that they both knew they would never be able to satiate.

"I love you," Joe whispered, pushing her hair out of her eyes to gaze into them.

“I love you too, baby...oh fuck,” Kat panted, burying her face in his shoulder, her hands sliding down to grip his ass as she bucked her hips like a mad woman. Joe moved with her, not missing a single beat. His own release was building fast within him, too fast. The blood was pounding in his head and tightening his balls as her pussy squeezed his cock so tight he was having a hard time catching his breath. They soon realized they were climaxing together, both shaking from the intense, throbbing waves of pleasure. Kat’s toes curled into the sheets as she felt his warm fluid gushing into her pussy just like he wanted, felt his body pulse as hard as his dick pulsing deep inside of her. No piece of music, no music video she created could ever compare to the magic she made with this incredible man, ever be as beautiful as the sight of his face scrunching up helplessly as his orgasm consumed him. So she kept her eyes on him for as long as she could, watching all the emotions sweep his gorgeous visage like an unforgettable movie. 

An eternity later, their movements slowed, their breathing calmed, their hearts racing as one as the world returned to normal. Joe felt light as air as he fell back onto the bed, Kat melting into him with her head on his chest, where his heart beat for her. He was still inside her and she kept him there, wanted to be filled with all his love in the very best way.

“Welcome home, my love,” she giggled, soothed by his own throaty chuckle vibrating against her skin. Her eyes fluttered shut as his lips pressed her forehead. She wished she could bottle the sound of his laugh, the feeling of his soft lips, bottle this very moment forever.

“Glad to be home, my love,” he answered, his fingers caressing her back as he kissed her mouth. “I can tell my time in L.A. is gonna be fun.”

"Mm-hmm. We got all week, Daddy," Kat eyed him with a sly smile, tracing her manicured index finger along his tattooed pectoral, "Like I said, we're just getting started."

THE END.

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A/N: This is the only story I've had the energy to complete. I'd love to know your thoughts!

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[fuck-customers]

I have been following you guys for awhile and have had so many fuck customers moments but last week I had the one that takes the cake because I thought I was about to die. I figured it was worth submitting.

For some backstory, I'm a graphic designer at a signs & awards shop. We do A LOT of different stuff for A LOT of different people/companies. (Including vehicle wraps, this is important for later.) I had been working with a set of customers (3 guys, also important) with a design for a while and they were being difficult. Nitpicking everything, wanting me to use copyrighted images, not understanding that I am not a magician and cant just poof exactly what they want into existence. I need TIME to do things and they aren't my only customers. They also don't have emails so all proofs were done by them coming into the shop.

So last Thursday I woke up with a terrible sore throat after going to bed feeling like garbage the night before. I'm super prone to strep throats so I scheduled an appointment at 8:30 am to get a test done. I could have scheduled earlier but I knew the customers were coming by at 8:00 am to see the designs and I wanted to be there.

I clock in at 7:45 am and have everything ready for them. By 8:20 am they have still not shown up and I can't wait any longer to head to my appointment. Thankfully I tested negative and when I got back to work by boss told me they were in at 9:30 and wanted to talk to me about the design and would come back by at 3:00 pm. I said cool and went about my day.

At 2:00 pm I get a call from my husband saying he was injured at work. He is a PE teacher at a school for kids with behavior issues so it's not unusual that he has an injury however this was a head injury and the on site nurse is going to take a look and make sure it doesn't need stitches and stops bleeding. Cause you know head wounds.

At 3:15 pm, my guys still haven't shown up. My husband is cleared as not needing anything immediately but is calling the company's workman's comp to get stuff sorted. He can't drive so he has a coworker drop him off at my job. He's chilling with me while I keep working and he takes care of the calls. Around 3:45 he realizes the head wound is still bleeding some and he needs to go to the walk in. I head out at 4:00 pm and my boss says he will take care of the guys if they bother to show up. My husband ended up needing two staples and is doing fine.

The next morning, I get to work around 7:45 am. There is a white truck, our company truck and a couple of my coworkers cars in the parking lot. Because we do a lot of vehicle wraps its not unusual for there to be vehicles dropped off overnight so I think nothing of the white truck. But as I am approaching the door and pulling my keys out I hear some doors slam and a male voice say "Not getting away from us this time!"

Guys, I thought I was about to die! Who says that to a woman alone in a parking lot? I spin around prepared to chuck my coffee and run when I realize it's the customers. I glare at them before turning back around and heading in the door. After I clocked in I had my boss wait on them. I also handed the order off to one of my male coworkers because I am not messing with them anymore. You can't blame me for not being there when you consistently miss appointments and then scare the shit out of me before I am even clocked in.

Posted by admin Rodney

[notgonnaedit]

Given to Fly

Convoy

Summary: Martha "Marty" Thorne was a basic teenager, a little antisocial maybe. But her life changed the day she met the Autobots and joined them in their fight.

Pairing: Optimius x Teen!OFC (Platonic)

Chapter summary: A military road trip goes awry.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, Marty and Fowler arguing, MECH, military (not) vehicles, Dadimus at his finest, use of a firearm, (If I miss a tag LMK)

Updates are sporadic. If you want to be tagged LMK

@dreamsight73

A/n: I was almost able to recite this episode by heart since my little brother watched is so much

Master list

Marty stood at the curb, patiently waiting for her guardian to arrive. Her backpack was at her feet, something she opted to ditch when her back began to ache. She pulled her phone from her pocket to check the time, frowning when she saw that Optimius was supposed to pick her up 20 minutes ago.

She couldn't be angry at him. He had more important things to tend to than her, but she would have at least liked notice.

A familiar rumble of an Autobot's engine reached the Marty's ears, but it wasn't her Autobot.

Bumblebee rolled up to the curb, buzzing kindly as he opened the door for her. Though Marty couldn't understand his speech, she had a feeling he was telling her Optimius was busy.

"Thanks for the pickup," she said as she grabbed her backpack and climbed it. "I take it Raf is at the base?"

Bee buzzed in confirmation as he pulled away, driving towards the base.

Marty sighed softly, staring out the window. It wasn't uncommon for a Bot besides one of their guardians to pick them up, mostly when their main protector was busy. But the past few weeks, Marty had been finding ways to entertain herself around the base and getting rides from the other Bots. Optimius was busy leading the team in a targeted campaign against several Decepticon Energon mines they had located.

She wasn't upset, but she would be lying if she said she didn't miss her guardian.

                            )()()()()(

"Prime!" Agent Fowler's voice erupted from the computer, demanding the presence of the Autobot leader. "Prime!"

"Special Agent Fowler?" Optimius asked as he made his way towards the computer system. He had just returned from scouting an Energon mine with Bulkhead. "To what do we owe–"

"What else? Cons!" Fowler declared. "I chased them off with some hard ordinance, but not before they blew me out of the sky."

Miko sniggered. "Again?"

Marty smirked and looked back at the screen, leaning against the rail of the catwalk with the other kids.

"They tried to make a smash-and-grab for the DNGS."

Arcee cocked her head to the side. "The... what's it?"

"Dynamic nuclear generation system," Fowler clarified. "A.K.A. DNGS. It's a prototype energy source I'm porting to the coast for testing."

"Pfft! That's absurd," Ratchet huffed. "Why would Starscream bother with such primitive technology?"

"I'm guessing to make a big, fat, primitive weapon of mass destruction," Fowler told him. "If this baby were to melt down, it would irradiate this state and the four next door."

"Uh... Did Agent Fowler say what state he was currently in?" Raf asked nervously.

"I'm a sitting duck here, Prime," Fowler continued. "I need you to spin up your bridge and send the DNGS to it's destination before the Cons come back for it."

​​​​​​Marty looked at her guardian. She could see the gears turning in his head as he mulled over the situation. Yet what most would take several minutes of thought, took Optimius seconds.

"I'm afraid that sending such a volatile device through a ground bridge is out of the question," he said. "If there were to be an accident during it's transmission, the radiation of which you speak could propagate through the ground bridge vortex and harm all 50 states, and beyond."

Fowler frowned, trying to find another solution. "You got any better ideas?"

                           )()()()()(

At the crash site of Agent Fowler's jet, the Autobots readied in vehicle form. Optimius had a trailer, ready to haul the DNGS. Fowler sat in the driver's seat with a grin of a child in a candy store. He reached for the wheel, but was quickly cut off by Optimius.

"Ah! No need, Agent Fowler," he ordered. "I will handle the driving."

Fowler folded his arms, a dispute scowl on his face. "It's gonna be a long trip."

Marty snickered from the passenger seat (something Miko was incredibly envious of).

"Autobots, roll out!" Optimius ordered as he pulled out onto the road.

Marty stared out the window as they drove. Bumblebee and Bulkhead were bringing up the rear, acting as inconspicuous guards for their nuclear cargo. A small huff turned the brunette's attention to Fowler, who still had his arms folded.

"Fowler, are you... pouting?" Marty asked with a chuckle.

"Of course not!" He snapped back. "I'm a high functioning government agent with assignments you couldn't even begin to comprehend."

Marty raised an eyebrow, her expression saying how little she cared.

"Why are you even here?" Fowler asked in frustration. "The other kids stayed behind."

"Martha's logic and reasoning is useful in these situations," the cabin rumbled with Optimius' voice. "And her ability to remain clear-headed under stress is something we may require if things go awry."

A ghost of smile graced Marty's lips. She knew Optimius was trying to make up for lost time. She returned her gaze back to the window, watching as the mountainous landscape of Colorado passed by.

"We're locked on to your coordinates, Optimius," Ratchet told them. "Baring any complications, you should reach the drop-off point by sundown."

"Sounds good, Ratch," Marty answered, leaning back against her seat.

The mountain road was surprisingly wide, perfect for traveling. They passed few cars, but one in particular caught Marty's eye.

There was a family inside, and their sedan was obviously packed for a camping trip. Parents sat in the front, the mother pointing to a map while the father waved her off. Marty had seen such things in movies, but she never realized it was a real. In the backseat, two kids stared blankly out the windows, but they perked up when they saw Optimius– or at least his vehicle mode.

One of the kids, a little boy, pulled his arm in a pumping motion. Marty smiled, knowing what they were signing.

"Hey, Optimius," the brunette started. "could you honk your horn?"

He did as she requested, earning wide grins from the kids in the car. The dad spilled his coffee on his lap, earning more laughter from them. 

Marty chuckled.

"Martha,"

The brunette snapped her attention to the baritone voice surrounding her. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"No need to apologize," Optimius assured her. "I was merely asking why you wanted me to sound my horn."

Fowler chuckled. "You really are from another planet, aren't you?"

Marty rolled her eyes at the agent before turning her attention to the Autobot insignia on the steering wheel. "It's a human thing. When people on road trips pass semi trucks, they signal them to honk their horns."

Optimius hummed in thought. "Human culture never ceases to amaze me."

Marty leaned back against the seat. The hum of the engine was soft in her ears. She was very comfortable, more than she had been in a while. 

Her hazel eyes began to droop, but she promptly snapped them open.

The rearview mirror shifted slightly, a tell tale sign that Optimus' attention was on her now. "You can rest if you so desire, Little One," the Prime told her.

"Thanks, Optimius. But I'm not tire–" a loud yawn from her own mouth betrayed her. A heavy drowsiness settled over her. "Okay, maybe I'm a little tired."

"Perhaps," Optimius remarked, a teasing tone in his voice.

Marty folded her arms, resting her cheek against the seatbelt. "Don't patronize me."

In response the seatbelt tightened, allowing for a more firm resting place for her head. Marty smiled softly, giving the strap a small tug before drifting off to sleep.

                        )()()()()(

A loud horn jolted Marty out of her sleep. "Ahh!"

Bleary eyed and confused, she turned to see Fowler slamming his palm on the wheel. "Move it, Gramps!"

In front of them on the road was an old rusty rusty pickup truck. It veered to the right, driving onto the shoulder to let them pass. 

Fowler continued to blare the horn until Optimius finally stopped him. "Agent Fowler," the Prime sounded exasperated. "Is that really necessary?"

The agent scowled. "Ah, don't tell me you're on of them textbook drivers," he folded his arms and glared out the window. "Hmph."

Marty reached under her glasses, rubbing her eyes with her finger tips. A small groan escaped her as she processed the trauma of waking up.

Fowler, having gotten over his frustration, turned back to the dash. "Y'know, you're saving my bacon here, Prime."

"I am proud to be of service," replied Optimius.

Marty glanced at Fowler. "Huh," she didn't think she had it in him to say something nice.

"Course, not like I needed your help if you and the Cons had stuck to tearing up your own corner of the galaxy," he added.

Marty groaned. "And there it is."

"Are you suggesting that no evil existed on your world before we arrived?" Optimius asked, his tone slightly challenging.

Fowler paused. "Well, it was a... A different evil."

Marty scoffed. "Yeah, right. Evil is evil, don't try to paint it any other way."

The agent shifted uncomfortably. "How about some radio?" He asked, trying to change the subject. "You seem like a Nashville-sound kind of guy."

Marty hummed. "Finally, something we agree on."

The sound of blades whirring reached Marty's ears. She looked in the rearview mirror to see a green helicopter behind them. It was flying low, she noticed.

"That's the one!" Fowler said suddenly. "The Con who shot me down? Who is he?" He turned to Marty. "Wingnut? Dingbat? Skyguy??"

"Watch your rearviews," Bulkhead warned as his voice clicked through the walkie-talkie.

Marty frowned upon seeing several green cars surround the wrecker.

"Feeling a little constricted without the use of my fists here, boss," Bulkhead said.

"Remain in vehicular mode unless absolutely necessary," Optimius ordered.

Marty raised her brows in surprise when she saw one of the cars pass them on the shoulder and slide in front of Bumblebee. The scout tried to pass it, but it wouldn't allow him.

"A whole team of Cons," Fowler murmured.

"What?" Ratchet asked. "I'm not picking up on anything. They must be utilizing a cloaking technology."

But Cons have never cared about delicate operations, Marty remembered. Why wouldn't they just try a smash-and-grab like Fowler described them doing before?

One of the cars drove parallel to Optimius. The roof opened and out came a man holding a gun. "Pull over!" He ordered.

"What–!" Marty had never expected this. Not in a million years.

Fowler's mouth hung open as he stared at their attacker. "Well, I'll be dipped!"

"Our assailants are not Decepticons– They are human," Optimius commed the team back at base.

"Who are these guys?" Marty asked as she glanced out her window.

"Autobots, maintain your cover," Optimius ordered. "and apply minimal force. Disarmament only."

Optimius swerved along the mountain side, staying from as far from the edge as possible. The seatbelt around Marty tightened, pinning her to the seat. Fowler, however, swayed with the movement and was looking worse for wear.

He choked down a gag. "Could use some air."

Optimius rolled down the window for him, allowing the agent to rest his head in the open breeze. 

"Are you seriously doing that?!" Marty asked as she gripped the seat. 

Fowler sat up, a concerned look on his face. "I'm going out there," he proclaimed.

"You're what!?" Marty's voice cracked as she yelled at the agent, but he had already opened the door and climbed out.

Marty moved to see what Fowler was doing, but the seatbelt held her in place. She craned her neck as far as it would go and found Fowler grabbing one of the masked men by the back of his neck. We

"You're gonna tell me everything I want to kno–" Fowler stopped abruptly when the man was ripped from his grasp and was sent tumbling down the road.

This was real. Marty watched, worry painted across her normally indifferent expression. Fowler climbed back in, buckling his seatbelt with a grave look on his face.

The silence was palpable, but it didn't last for long.

"I do hope you take better care of the DNGS than you do your captives," a man's voice taunted from the walkie-talkie.

Fowler grabbed it vigorously, holding to his mouth. "Special Agent William Fowler here. Identify yourself!"

"I am Silas," said the man. "But of greater consequence to you, we are MECH. Fair warning– We will be helping ourselves to your device, even if it means inflicting casualties."

Marty's grip on the seat tightened as Fowler growled into the radio.

"Tell me, Si, what's the market price for a DNGS these days?"

"What makes you think we intend to sell it, Agent Fowler?" Silas asked. ​​​​​

Fowler's expression dropped as he glanced at Marty.

"There's a war brewing between the new world order and the newest. The victor will be the side armed with the most innovative technology."

Marty watched in the rearview mirror as a mask man fired his weapon at the trailer, opening the hatch. The DNGS was back there, but so was a surprise.

"So, Si..." A smirk found its way to Fowler's face. "You think MECH has the most radical tech?"

Just then, Arcee burst out of the trailer, taking out several cars in her vehicle form. Marty's eyes widened with awe as she watched the explosion from the mirror.

"Later, Si," Fowler clicked off the radio with a smug grin.

"Agent Fowler, do not take your 'Silas' lightly," Optimius warned. "Megatron preached the same ideology before plunging Cybertron into the great war that destroyed our world."

"Optimius," Ratchet clicked on the comms. "prepare to initiate phase 2. Five miles ahead to the South, you will reach the rendezvous point."

                             )()()()()(

"There it is," Marty said when the train tracks came into view. They ran along the road, slightly lower after a drop.

"Autobots, keep a tight formation," Optimius ordered.

Arcee jumped off the road to drive beside the tracks, the others following. MECH did too, but they couldn't know what they had planned.

They entered a tunnel, headlights clicking on as they drove alongside the train. Bulkhead transformed and quickly destroyed the entrance before the MECH cars could follow.

Marty watched as Bee transformed and jumped on to a specific train car, tapping on the door to be greeted by a soldier. Bulkhead climbed on to the car as the trailer's walls folded down. Arcee took the DNGS and handed it to Bulk, who handed it to Bee, who set it inside the car.

The brunette smiled to herself, proud of how smoothly the plan went. Even if MECH was unexpected.

As they left the tunnel and drove back onto the road, Marty couldn't help but notice that the helicopter was still following them.

"Uh, Optimius?" She worried. "What do we do about Silas?"

Before her guardian could answer, several jets appeared in the sky.

Fowler glanced out his window. "Air support? Ours or theirs?"

"Optimius, you have company!" Ratchet warned.

Just then, the jets fired their missiles. 

"Cons!" Marty cried as she gripped her seatbelt. Optimius swerved hard, detatching the trailer, as the missiles made contact with the earth and destroyed the trailer.

Fowler yelped as Optimius and the Autobots stopped at the edge of a cliff. The jets fell from the sky, transforming into their bipedal form. Marty realized that the Decepticons didn't care that other humans were watching, and it put the Bots at risk.

"Agent Fowler, Martha," Optimius said. "I'm afraid that if you and we are to survive, it has become absolutely necessary to drop our cover."

Marty nodded. Fowler's eyes widened, and before he could say anything, he and the brunette were sitting in Optimus' hands. When her eyes adjusted, Marty saw Fowler trying not to throw up, for the second time that day.

Optimius set the two humans on the edge of the cliff wall. "Remain here."

"Will do," Fowler adjusted himself, still looking slightly pale.

Marty turned her attention to the Bots, watching as they fought the Cons. She furrowed her brow, her mind racing with the location of the DNGS and the battle before her.

The radio in Fowler's hand clicked, and Silas' voice crackled through. "Special Agent Fowler, you and your young friend lead a charmed life walking among titans."

Marty looked up at the circling helicopter, bringing her hand to her forehead to block out the sun.

"Come on down," Fowler dared. "I'll introduce you."

"In good time. But at the moment I'm too busy wondering how the DNGS might have vanished into thin air without a trace. Now, if you'll excuse me... I have a train to catch."

​​​​​The helicopter flew off in the same direction as the tracks. Marty gasped. "He knows!"

Fowler cursed under his breath and brought the radio up. "Prime! Silas got wise to phase 2!"

Optimius glanced over at them from the battle and nodded. "I understand."

CLANG!

A Con used a log to hit him in the face, sending him flying.

"Optimius!" Marty cried as she watched her guardian fall down the cliff and out of sight.

"Prime, do you read me?" Fowler said into the radio. "Prime?!"

Marty ran her hands through her hair, struggling to find a solution. "Okay, okay, okay," she took a breath and reached into her pocket, pulling out her phone.

"Ratchet," she said into the speaker. "Optimius is down and MECH's gonna grab the DNGS."

"We need to think of something," Jack muttered.

"You mean like a phase 3?" Asked Raf.

Marty bit her lip, as she forced her brain to form coherent thought. "Come on, think," an idea popped in. "Alright, if MECH wants the DNGS, they have to get on that train."

"What if we get on board first?" Miko asked. "Y'know, run some human-on-human interference?"

"Absolutely not!" Ratchet declared. 

"Yeah, that would be suicide," Jack agreed.

"I don't hear any better ideas!" Marty growled. "Lives are at stake, Ratchet!'

"Yes–yours!" He snapped back. "You want me to not only bridge you into a confined space, but one traveling at 90 miles per hour?! I can't even count the number of ways that can go wrong," he did so anyways. "Mass-displacement trauma, twisted limbs, metal burn... Well, maybe not the last one. Regardless, it is nearly impossible to fix ground bridge coordinates on something moving at that speed."

Marty was about to bite back, but the sound of Raf's voice stopped her. 

"Would it help if we had access to the train's coordinates?"

Marty nodded. "Ratchet, bridge me to the train."

                             )()()()()(

Marty stepped out of the vortex to find Miko and Jack waiting for her, the latter with his phone ready. An unconscious soldier was lying on the floor next to the DNGS, his gun beside him. The brunette looked at the other teens in surprise.

"What, you thought you were gonna fight them off on your own?" Miko asked with her signature grin.

Marty replied with a huffed chuckle, but that stopped when she heard the sound of helicopter blades. Jack peeked his head out the door before raising his phone to his ear.

"Raf, MECH's landing on top of the train."

"In about 20 seconds, you're gonna come to a fork. Brace yourself," the boy told them.

The train shifted, but the helicopter lurched away. It wasn't long before the sound of blades increased, and the sparks from a cutting device on the roof.

"So what'd that buy us?" Jack asked. "10 seconds?"

Miko winced. "Raf is losing his touch."

Marty glanced around, searching for something to fend off MECH with. Her gaze landed on the soldier's gun.

She grabbed it.

"Do you know how to fire that thing?" Jack asked.

Marty fumbled with it, struggling to hold it. "No..." She whined.

Miko nodded, grabbing a fire axe. Jack grabbed a fire extinguisher, the only other weapon around.

The square in the ceiling fell through, revealing two masked men with weapons.

Marty's hands shook as her finger neared the trigger.

"Do you wanna slice of this?!" Miko swing the axe defiantly. "Well, do ya?!"

Jack aimed the fire extinguisher. "What she said."

Suddenly, MECH left, taking the men with them. Marty frowned. What was going on?

Jack dropped his weapon, looking out the door. Miko followed suit, grabbing his arm. "You're pretty fierce," she teased.

Marty couldn't bring herself to smirk, she was too concerned about the smoke rising in the distance. Then it hit her.

She snagged the phone from Jack. "Ratchet, MECH blew the train tracks. You need to bridge us out if here– the soldiers too."

"We've lost access to the train data!" Replied the medic. "I can't bridge you back without your coordinates!"

The three teens stood in the train car, worrying over what to do.

"Maybe we should jump?" Miko suggested.

Jack scoffed. "At 90 miles an hour?"

The pink haired girl shrugged. "It's the impact or the meltdown. Take your pick."

Jack let out a sigh. "What were we thinking volunteering for this?"

"Next time, you need to do a better job of talking us out of these situations," Miko snarked.

A sinking feeling settled in Marty's stomach. "Next time..."

"We can buy ourselves another few seconds if we're in the back of the train, right?" Miko asked.

Jack glanced at the two girls. "At least we're in this together."

Miko looked at Marty before snatching Jack's phone from her hand. "Raf, this is important! Make sure Bulkhead gets my guitar."

Just then –in a flash of red and blue– Optimius drove past. 

Hope climbed inside Marty. "Don't read the will just yet."

As Optimius passed the train, he transformed and grabbed on. He groaned as he dug his heels into the ground, trying to halt the train. Metal screeched and pulled painfully, but finally the train halted just before the tracks ended.

Optimius stood up straight, glancing back at the kids. Martha, Miko, and Jack were all safe and alive. The latter two were already talking about something pertaining to their situation. Martha looked up at him with an expression he had never seen before; something akin to fear.

Her hazel gaze drifted to the sky. When Optimius followed it, he found the helicopter belonging to Silas circling them before flying off.

"Optimius," Ratchet's voice clicked on over the comm. "are you and the children... intact?"

"Intact, Ratchet," the Prime answered. "Crisis averted. But the world in which we live is a different one than we previously imagined. One which has spawned its own Decepticons... In human skin."​​​​​​​

Previous

Next

[nerves-nebula]

Okay so Donnie at the end is a little OOC, but I figured this would happen a long ways down the line, after they were beginning to recover, and he’s gotten some more self-confidence. Pair that with “siblings potentially in danger�� and I think it’s justified? I hope you like.

——

Their therapist liked to tell them that it was okay to have moments of immaturity. It was fine to indulge in childish things because it’s not as if they’d had time for it as children.

“You’d be surprised how many adults still love things geared towards younger audiences.”

This was the excuse Leo gave himself.

He was just embracing his childish side.

Donnie had said that the “Shell-mobile” as Mikey had dubbed it was technically road-worthy. He was still working in it, though, wanting it to work as a mobile command center for them when they were scouting or ninja-ing.

All Leo heard was “We have a car now.”

Technically, Raph and Donnie were the only ones with licenses. They had immediately gotten them when they’d officially moved to the Hidden City, just in case. So, technically, Raph and Donnie were the only ones who could legally drive the Shell-mobile.

However, Leo and Mikey still had learner’s permits and were allowed to drive as long as someone with a license was with them in the car, so this should be fine.

Leo slammed the gas, laughing hysterically as the junker van surged forward, tearing down the road as Mikey and Raph clung to their seats. It was exhilarating, the freedom of driving at ridiculous speeds. They’d pulled off the main road, of course, avoiding any major traffic (Leo was impulsive, not stupid), that way they’d be less likely to run into any cops.

The handling on the van was less than optimal. It swerved and Leo could swear he’d pulled them up onto just two wheels at least three times.

“Faster, Leo!” Mikey screamed, throwing his hands in the air as they took a sharp turn, “Donnie’s gonna fuckin’ kill us!”

Raph’s scream was far less excited, “Screw Donnie, LEO is gonna kill us! At least slow down for the turns, you’re gonna crash!”

“You can’t tell me what to do!” Leo laughed maniacally, popping the handbrake to drift them around another sharp corner. There was no way in hell he was slowing this vehicle until Raph either threw up or passed out.

“LEO LOOK OUT!” Raph shrieked (rather high pitched and girly if you asked Leo).

Mikey’s laughter also died down as the van slammed into something, thudding a few times. Leo slammed on the brakes, skidding them to a stop, the smell of burnt rubber quickly filling the air.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.” Raph made to grab at the door handle, but his hands shook too much to get a proper grip. Leo leaned over to help, letting Raph out to get some air.

He and Mikey also got out, all of them turning to see the hunched form of a cat yokai in the middle of the road.

“I’m gonna be sick.” Raph whined.

They approached the yokai carefully, unsure if he was even alive.

“Oh my God, Leo.” Mikey punched his shoulder, “You fucking hit someone.”

“It was an accident!”

“I’m so not testifying for you in court, dude. Lock her away, Your Honor! This woman is a certified-“

Coughing interrupted him.

“Oh fuck, he’s alive.” Raph put himself between the body and his brothers, “Can you hear us?”

The yokai groaned, slowly lifting his head. He was definitely not doing good, his face was scratched to shit and one of his eyes wouldn’t open.

“D-Donnie?” The yokai asked.

The trio froze.

No one spoke for a solid minute.

The yokai collapsed back to the pavement.

“How did he-“

“Could he be-“

“Abe?”

The yokai’s ears twitched.

Donnie, back when they began training their ninpo, had done experiments about telepathy. He’d done tons of tests, both in safe and dangerous environments. He had definitively told them all that, thankfully, their blood line did not mean that they could read each other’s minds. He surmised that any “telepathy” the others thought they had was just them being able go understand one another and know how the other would react to circumstances due to their prolonged exposure to one another.

However, in that moment, the trio only had to exchange one look before they all turned back, going back go the Shell-mobile. They buckled up, fixed the mirrors, and Leo turned them around.

Thump

Thump

The drive back home was far less exciting than the drive out to the edge of town, but the adrenaline still ran through their veins. Leo parked the van, smiling to himself as he saw Donnie storming into the garage.

“Wh-what did you d-d-do?!” Donnie looked over the van, “Of all th-the reckless, kn-knuckleheaded- you realize I can remote tr-track the van’s sp-speedometer, right?”

“Oh, no, I didn’t know that.” Leo smiled, “That’s really cool, Don.”

Donnie paused a moment, “I- hey, wait! You can’t distract me w-with compliments!”

Mikey nodded, “Yeah, that’d be underhanded.”

Raph agreed, “You can yell at us, Don, go ahead.”

Donnie’s ire seemed to sizzle out as he looked over his siblings. They all just stood there, politely waiting to get yelled at…

“Have you been body snatched?”

Leo laughed, “That’s a good one. No, no, we’re us. You can run some tests if you wanna be sure.”

“Hey, Don, why don’t I make your favorite tonight?” Raph smiled, coming forward to put a hand on Donnie’s back, guiding him back into the complex, “You can yell at us while I cook.”

“And you can tell us about how you track the Shell-mobile!” Mikey grinned, bouncing beside him as they headed in.

—

It wasn’t until years and years later, after all was said and done, that any of the three of them broke their unspoken vow.

——

And there we go! Originally I wasn’t gonna have them hit him with a car, but that idea was too fuckin funny to pass up.

-Monster Anon

Can We Utilize Unsafe Driving For The Better? More at 11 !!

them being weirdly nice and polite to Donnie afterwards is so funny to me lmao.

[theworldoffostering]

Raising kids is not for the weak.

The good:

DS took his road test and passed it! It felt so nice to do a normal kid/parent thing and see him be successful.

The anniversary of his adoption day was this month. It’s been 15 years.

Ms. 6 was accepted into a university.

Ms. 6 is going to graduate high school next month!

We are progressing in attachment therapy with Baby.

School is almost done for the year.

The mediocre:

DD broke up with her fiancé and is already seeing someone else. I did not care for her fiancé, but already seeing someone else is a red flag.

I talked with the students with disabilities center on Ms. 6’s campus this week to try to get her some services. In turn, I had to request her IEP. Her IEP from fall was a train wreck so I reconvened the team this week and told them to rewrite it appropriately. Apparently the guidance counselor quit in the fall and no one has taken his place. For real, without a parent, most kids are completely lost.

I signed Ms. 6 up for college registration and orientation. Students have to bring a parent. I offered but she wants her mom to go which is fine. However, we don’t know if her mom will go. She was too hungover to take Ms. 6 to the hospital when she had knee surgery scheduled a couple of months back. Last week she didn’t get out of bed to take Ms. 6 to a somewhat major dental appointment. I told her I would go, but her mom insisted that she was going so I could not attend. I stood down and then she didn’t show up. Same thing happened with the knee surgery.

The challenging:

So much drama with Ms. 6’s family of origin. Ms. 6 lives over three hours away from us but is enrolled in a high school near us and her graduation will be where we live. I offered to throw her a graduation party and invite her mom. Ms. 6 was thrilled. Her mom told her to cut DH and I off and that she could no longer talk to us or receive mail from us. Now her mom is threatening to take away Ms. 6 attending her own graduation altogether.

Ms. 6 insisted she completed her FASFA. She did, but it was for the 23-24 year, not the 24-25 year. I straightened it out two weeks ago and filled it out for her (she’s an independent so parent income doesn’t count). Financial aid packagers don’t go out until next month so I’m hoping she will still get enough to be able to go to school.

Ms. 6 told me this week that she never obtained a new birth certificate or social security card despite me directing her in how to do both things multiple times in the fall after she left here unexpectedly. I finally just ordered (and paid) for a new birth certificate for her this week.

I feel incredibly burned out. Like maybe I need meds? My endocrin called and told me I need to start doing B12 injections because after taking oral supplements for three months, my b12 levels actually went down. I don’t know if it’s that, or wading through all of the drama, or both. Some days, I don’t feel like I can even put one foot in front of the other. It’s too much. How do you ever get a break from everything?

Tomorrow we are meeting with DD to try to work out getting her a $4k car from a friend of mine. It’s a 2006 Odyssey with almost 200k miles on it. The insurance (collision only) would be $2k for the year. She’s bouncing from one hourly job to another and not saving anything. She desperately needs a vehicle to get to and from work. Currently she’s relying on her fiancé and her vehicle, but now that they’re no longer together, it seems more important that she have her own. She has zero money saved, but I have a college fund set aside for her with about $10k in it. Clearly she’s not going to college right now so I think we are going to pivot with that money and pay for the car and the insurance for a year.

I was planning to drive 6.5 hours this weekend to meet up with Ms. 6 and her BF who she met online. Ms. 6 has really been pushing for this. I asked for his address so I could locate a nearby hotel. She said he didn’t want me to have it. Then I asked for his name. He apparently did not want to disclose that to me either. I did tell her that was super sketch, and now I do think he’s like a really scary person who no one has vetted. Ms. 6 has already stayed with him several times so maybe not a serial killer, but anything else is possible in my brain. He’s definitely older because he has his own apartment.

It’s so much, you guys.

[halloweeneveryday]

Check point

Not sure if you guys would want to hear an asian story but I thought it’s worth sharing. This was told by my dad when I was 12. Even now, when I ask him about the story, he can remember every vivid detail like it just happened last week.

My dad was in the police force for 20 years and when we just a rookie, he had to conduct nighttime roadblocks meant to catch drunk-drivers.

They had done it many times before and this night started routine enough for them. That was until this Toyota Corolla drove up to them with what looked like a white blanket on its roof, flapping in the wind.

They thought it was weird but did not see anything amiss about it. One of them even joked that this guy was multitasking by drying his laundry and driving home at the same time.

The laughs stopped when the lone car came closer and all of them saw what looked like a woman in white lying face down on top of the car. The woman seemed to slide like a slug backwards until she disappeared behind the car as it eventually came to a stop in front of them.

It took a few minutes for my dad’s team to re-compose themselves as they stared at each other as if to say “you guys saw that right?”.

The most senior of them finally stepped up and shot the usual questions to the driver. There was a noticeable quiver in his voice as he made conversation and asked him to step out of the vehicle. My dad’s team inspected the whole vehicle, including the boot and found nothing strange in it.

The driver was a good-looking Staff Sergeant in the army who was heading home from a company event earlier that night and admitted to have had a few cans of beer. He said he laid down in his bunk to sleep it off, hence why he was driving home at that time (it was 4am).

He passed their sobriety test and they started to ask him if he saw anything weird during his drive. Initially he said no but after more questioning, he mentioned that he had to swerve to avoid what looked like a bird that was flying upside down. It was spooky but didnt think that was a detail worth sharing with police officers.

The senior then told the guy to chill out at a 24-hour coffeeshop before heading home (the locals believe that if a malevolent spirit follows you, making a pitstop confuses them so they can’t set up shop in your house). After some confusion of his own, the driver finally caught on and nodded in agreement.

After the guy leaves, they call in to the station and cut the night short. Never knew what happened to the driver, hope he’s alright.

source: https://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/7wrbns/comment/du2xkm6/

[clarepreed]

Corporate Abduction, Pt. 1

Story Content and Summary - 6,245 words. Larissa and Mitchell are abducted. Vomit aspiration, suffocation, refractory ventricular fibrillation, on-site resuscitation.

--

Three months after the events of Not for the Faint of Heart.

Mitchell

“Where are we going for dinner?” Larissa asked as they stepped into the elevator. Mitchell rested his hand on the small of her back, ushering her inside. Even though it was late in the day, he could still smell the herbal scent of her shampoo.

He pressed the button for the underground garage and leaned in, kissing her temple. “We’re going to a pho place in Creston. I know it’s a bit of a drive, but—”

“You know I want to eat at every pho place that’s in existence, right?” She grinned at him, her beauty mark riding her full upper lip.

“Yeah, I thought you might say that. We might get home late, do you have your medication with you?” The elevator slowed, dinging as they arrived at their floor.

Larissa patted her purse. “I have my backup doses with me. Of course, a couple of hours wouldn’t make a difference.”

“I’m sure you’re right, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather you didn’t test that theory.” Mitchell glanced around them as they exited the elevator. He felt Larissa reach out and rub his arm as they walked.

She’d had one seizure in the months since the incident at the falls, about three weeks after. The seizure had been short, she’d recovered quickly, and she hadn’t had another since. Still, tonight was the first time he’d felt comfortable taking her more than a few minutes away from downtown, where there was quick transport to a state-of-the-art hospital.

They walked to his SUV and he helped her out of her coat and into the vehicle before leaning in for a quick kiss.

Larissa reached up and smoothed his collar. “I shouldn’t have been flippant. I’m sorry.”

He stood by the SUV with her for a moment, shaking his head. “I don’t want you to have to walk on eggshells. And I’m glad if you can feel relaxed about it at all, I honestly am. Low stress is better for you, right?”

“We just need some time,” she said, smiling at him. “We’re expecting ourselves to be back to normal already and that’s just unreasonable.”

He leaned in to kiss her again, and then closed her door.

The drive was expected to take just over an hour. They settled in, Larissa driving the Spotify playlist. Traffic was heavy as they crossed the city limits; Mitchell assumed they were mostly commuters.

Eventually, as they got closer to Creston, traffic thinned out. Another SUV took the exit behind them, onto a straight road that ran alongside a field.

“How did Creston end up with a pho place?” Larissa asked. “Do a lot of Vietnamese people live here?”

“They do, actually. Nhung has family here; she’s the one who told me about the restaurant.” Mitchell glanced up into the rearview mirror; the SUV had pulled up close to tailgate him. He looked down at his speedometer and saw he was actually driving a little fast. They were also in a passing zone. “I don’t know what this guy’s problem is, he needs to go around.”

As if on cue, the SUV swerved around Mitchell’s back bumper and accelerated.

“That tint hardly looks street legal,” Larissa murmured.

Mitchell opened his mouth to respond when the other SUV swerved away from them, driving into the emergency strip on the other side. “Woah!” he exclaimed, his foot lifting off the gas.

“What the hell is he doing?!”

“I don’t—” The other SUV over-corrected, and before Mitchell had time to hit the brakes, it smashed into them. He tried to control the vehicle, but the steering wheel jerked in his hands, and it seemed like the other driver was determined to force them into the field.

“Trees!” Larissa blurted out, her body going tense as she braced herself. She was right, they were approaching a short line of trees down the edge of the road, and he couldn’t—

“FUCK!” The tires squalled as the swerved toward the field, the wheel shaking in his hands. The driver’s side of the car smashed into the first tree, glass filling the cab. There was a hard impact against the side of his head and he lost consciousness.

Larissa

Larissa didn’t remember the last several seconds of the accident. One moment, they were swerving, and the next she was lying in a pool of pebbled glass, staring down at the dirt underneath the passenger side of the overturned SUV.

She laid there for a full minute, stunned, until something warm and wet dripped on the side of her face. She jerked, looking toward the driver’s seat, which was now above her.

Mitchell was limp, hanging sideways, his right hand dangling close to her. The blood was coming from him, though she couldn’t immediately see his injury.

“Mitchell!” Her voice came out hoarse and quiet, and she coughed, waving through the cloud of airbag powder. She reached up and squeezed his hand, her heart pounding and a finger of ice trailing down her spine. “Mitchell!”

He didn’t respond. Larissa fumbled with her seatbelt, hands clumsy, her own blood welling from a series of cuts down the side of her arm. She wasn’t sure where her phone had ended up, but she knew she needed to find it so she could call for help. “Mitchell! Mitchell, wake up!”

She heard voices outside the vehicle as she was reaching for his hand again and shouted: “HELP! HEY! HELP!”

The vehicle shook, but no one responded to her directly.

Larissa pressed her fingers to the inside of Mitchell’s wrist. His heartbeat was strong and regular, and she let out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

“Mitchell! Mitchell, honey, wake up!” She got her feet underneath her so she was crouched in the glass and able to see his face. His eyes were closed, features serene. There was a bloody wound to his left temple; she pressed her palm to it, trying to stop the bleeding. “HEY! OUT THERE! Can you hear me?!”

A man appeared, looking down into the car through Mitchell’s broken window. Larissa blinked up at him and exclaimed: “Oh, thank God! Help us! He’s not conscious!”

The man responded by pointing a gun at her.

Larissa froze, her hand still pressed to Mitchell’s temple, her heart taking off in her chest.

“This is what’s going to happen,” the man said. “We’re gonna work together to haul him out. If you try anything, I’m going to shoot you in the face and bring your corpse with us for him to look at when he wakes up. Do you understand?”

Larissa took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Y-yes. I won’t try anything. We don’t have any weapons in the car.”

The man wore a surgical mask and a hat. She could see that he had light skin and eyebrows, but his most identifiable feature was his piercing blue eyes. “For our purposes, my name is Jim, and my associate is Joe.” The vehicle shook again, and she saw much smaller man wearing the same kind of surgical mask lean into view.

“What do I need to do to get him out of here?” She worked hard to keep her voice even.

“We’re gonna try to get the door open. If we can’t, we’ll haul him out the window. Your job is to unbuckle the seatbelt when we tell you. Not before, unless you want him to flatten you when he falls, you got it?”

“Yes, I understand.”

They could not, it turned out, get the door open. Jim tugged; Joe tugged. It unlatched and opened a few inches, but no further.

“Piece of SHIT!” Jim growled, glaring at Joe. “You hit them too fucking hard. You’re lucky we can get out of here at all, dumbass.”

Larissa’s legs were starting to cramp. She tried to ease the pain, shifting slowly so the men wouldn’t notice. Keeping her hand pressed to Mitchell’s temple, she leaned closer and kissed his forehead. “Wake up, honey,” she murmured.

She had to pull back when Joe and Jim crammed their arms through the window, reluctantly removing her hand from his wound.

Jim growled: “Undo his seatbelt!”

She found it with her bloodied hands, pressing the button and then helping to feed it around his limp body. The two strangers dragged him through the opening, both grunting as they hauled his limp weight. They caught his shoulder hard on the frame and she was shocked and relieved to hear Mitchell grunt.

“Mitchell?” she called out, but by then the men had dragged him out of sight. She stood and stretched up her hands, just tall enough for her fingertips to graze the doorframe. She heard the heavy sound of a body falling from the car and landing on the ground and gasped. “What the hell?! Are you trying to break his neck?!”

“I will still shoot you in the face,” Jim said, his voice mild. His face reappeared in the window, and then suddenly he and Joe grasped hold of her wrists, hauling her up. She could feel Jim’s hand slipping on the blood on her cut arm, and he reached down and grabbed her elbow.

They were not any gentler with her; as soon as they got her out of the car they dumped her over the side, narrowly avoiding dropping her on top of Mitchell. She landed hard on her feet and crumpled to the cold ground, pain shooting up her left leg from her ankle to her knee.

Despite the pain, Larissa rolled over and dragged herself over to Mitchell. He was still, sprawled on his back, eyes closed. “Mitchell!” She was relieved to see his breath fogging the air above his face.

The men jumped down beside her.

“We need to hurry this the fuck up. Take off your watch.” Jim had his gun pointed at her again. She scrambled to remove her smartwatch, watching as Joe took off Mitchell’s. “Where’s your phone?”

“Somewhere in the car, I don’t—”

Jim snatched her watch out of her hands and threw it to the side. “His phone?”

“Probably his pocket. Uh… right back.”

“Stand up.”

“But—”

“Stand the fuck up!” Jim shouted, pointing the gun at her face. He watched as Larissa dragged herself to her feet, unable to put weight on her left leg. “Hold your wrists together out front. Joe?”

“I got it,” Joe said, sounding exasperated. “I need to get the SIM card out of his phone before we start moving, though…”

Larissa held her wrists out reluctantly, unable to take her eyes off Mitchell. “You need to bandage his head. He’s bleeding!”

“You need to shut the fuck up,” Jim said, as Joe began to wrap her wrists with duct tape.

“But—”

“Stop, Joe. Tape both their wrists behind their backs. And tape her mouth when you’re done with her hands.”

“Mitchell!” she shouted. “Mitchell wake up! Mitchell—”

Joe grabbed her face, closing her mouth before he slapped a length of duct tape across it. He added a second piece to it for good measure, his hand rubbing across her face to make sure the tape stuck.

Larissa drew a shaky breath through her nose, her heart sinking as Joe roughly rolled Mitchell into his stomach to secure his wrists.

Mitchell

The first sensation he had was rocking, followed by a sharp pain in his temple.

He moved before he opened his eyes, felt his leg brush up against the warmth of another person. This prompted him to open his eyes. Or try to. The left felt glued shut, and when he tried to reach up to his face to clear it, he found he couldn’t move his arms.

His vision slowly cleared, and the first thing he truly saw was Larissa.

She was sitting across from him, her wide eyes staring as his eyes focused on her. Her hair was mussed, her clothing smudged with blood. There was duct tape over her mouth, and he saw that her wrists were bound behind her. She looked sweaty, even though the air in the back of the SUV was cool. He scanned down her body, spotted the holes torn in the left leg of her woolen tights. She looked frightened but relieved, her shoulders sagging when they made eye contact.

He whispered: “Are you okay?”

She nodded, and raised her eyebrows at him.

“I’ll be fine,” he whispered back, though his head ached. He looked around him. They appeared to be in the back cargo area of a large vehicle. The sky outside was dark, though the windows were all heavily tinted. He had vague, broken memories of a car accident. “This vehicle… hit us?”

Larissa nodded. He watched her take a series of slow, deep breaths through her nose, her nostrils flaring wide.

He sat up straighter. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

She looked at him, her brow furrowed, seemingly frustrated that she couldn’t respond. She shrugged her shoulders and nodded.

Mitchell drew his left knee up and tried to bend over and wipe some of the congealing blood from his face onto his pants.

So. This is an abduction. I would say that so far, it’s not going well. I’m sure almost killing your target before you make your demands isn’t in the playbook.

The SUV slowed, came to a stop, then turned right. They continued straight for a while, and then the road began to curve into tight switchbacks. Mitchell pressed his left foot against the back hatch, trying to brace himself.

“Mmph…” Larissa breathed hard through her nose, her head tipped back. He could see her neck muscles retracting and the pulse in her neck jumping.

“Are you going to have a seizure?” he whispered, leaning forward.

Her brow furrowed and she slowly shook her head. The SUV went around another curve and he watched her swallow hard.

“You’re car sick.” Worry flooded him, and he scooted closer to her, his shoes scuffing the hatch.

“What the hell are you doing back there?!” a man shouted from the front of the SUV.

“She’s going to throw up, you need to take the tape off!” Mitchell barked. He had a brief thought toward whether he recognized the voice; decided he didn’t.

“Sleeping Beauty finally graces us with his presence,” the man said. “We’re almost there, keep your pants on!”

Larissa’s skin looked increasingly pale. Mitchell leaned close and whispered: “Slow breaths, baby.”

He was feeling a little green himself, he assumed from the blow to the head.

He looked her over again. She had blood in her hair, but he couldn’t tell what was his and what was hers. “Did you hit your head?”

She shrugged, and her eyes darted to his bloody temple.

“Don’t look,” he murmured. “I’m sure that doesn’t help.”

Perhaps if I keep talking to her…

“Any idea where we’re going?”

She shook her head and swallowed hard again.

“Was I out a long time?”

She nodded emphatically and blinked her eyes several times. He chastised himself for asking a question like that, watching as her eyes shone with tears.

“They took our phones?”

She blinked, tilted her head. After a moment, she clearly nodded, then shook her head.

“Hmm. What about your purse?”

She shook her head.

“So you don’t have your medication.”

Another head shake, though she followed with a shrug. He heard her cough, or try to, and a wave of clear mucus bubbled out of her nostrils. Her response was to turn her head away from him and exhale forcefully through her nose, followed by a series of snuffling inhalations.

“Larissa,” he whispered. “Look at me.”

She turned her head, and he could see panic had set in. Her nostrils were flared, eyes wide. She coughed again, retched, struggled to draw breath through her nose.

“You’re alright, Larissa—Hey!” he called out, his voice loud. “You have to pull over. She can’t breathe like this; she’s going to vomit!”

She squeezed her eyes shut in what looked like a last-ditch effort to calm herself, and then her body convulsed. She let out a gurgling noise, mucus and bile spraying from her nose.

“Should we stop?” he heard someone ask.

“Nah, that’s the drive, isn’t it? Jane’s meeting us at the house, she’ll take care of whatever the hell is going on back there.”

“STOP THE FUCKING CAR!” Mitchell shouted. Larissa was making horrible choking noises and thrashing around wildly. Her arms strained against the tape on her wrists, the force telegraphing into her shoulders and neck. Mitchell pushed himself against her, unable to think of anything to do except to try to use his teeth to peel off the tape.

Her eyes were huge with panic as the contents of her stomach and her sinuses frothed out of her nose, blocking her airway. Mitchell pinned her against the back seat with his body, fighting her animal instincts until he was able to scrape his teeth down her cheek. He had better luck with the bottom section of tape that lapped over her jawbone, but it was taking a long time to lift the corner. The smell of vomit was a distant blow to his senses.

Get it off or she dies, get it off—get it off—GET IT OFF!

The vehicle stopped, but Mitchell kept scraping at the tape, finally peeling up enough of it that he was able to nip the corner with his teeth. He jerked his head to the side, lost his grip, and tried again. Larissa was growing visibly weaker, her head lolling, her thrashing movements slowing to a twitch. The second jerk of the tape peeled it halfway to her lip; two more jerks and he made it to the corner of her mouth.

Larissa went limp then, her eyes distant as she sagged against the back seat of the SUV. An involuntary noise choked out of Mitchell’s throat. He was having a hard time getting an angle on the tape now that her head had tipped down, so he drew a breath and screamed: “YOU’RE KILLING HER!”

He twisted around, his body crammed against hers. He wrapped his lips around her nose, his stomach rolling at the sour taste of vomit, and tried to force a breath past the fluids clogging her nostrils. It was of no use, but he tried again anyway. As he was pulling back, he saw her eyelids flutter. He tried a third time, and then she went absolutely still.

The back hatch and tailgates opened, and he heard a man say:

“Fuck, Jim, he wasn’t exaggerating—”

“What did you do to them?!” a woman said, her voice sharp.

Mitchell whipped his head around and glared at the assembled criminals. Even in his agitated state he noticed they all wore surgical masks and nitrile gloves, but they hadn’t bothered to mask their hair. The woman’s was an icy bleached blonde.

“Help her, NOW!” Mitchell commanded. “You get nothing from me if you kill her!”

One of the men reached around Mitchell and yanked the tape off Larissa’s face. She slumped forward, but didn’t take a breath.

“Do your thing, Jane,” the man said. “We’ll get him out of the way.”

“Larissa! LARISSA!” Hands grabbed Mitchell’s arms, hauling him backward into the light of a streetlamp. He struggled, but as soon as they had him fully upright, he felt his blood pressure plummet. The person holding him up cursed and lowered him to the ground, quickly losing control of his weight. Mitchell landed hard on his hip, and the hands on him kept him from tipping over onto the cold concrete.

He blinked, desperate as he looked up into the back of the SUV. He couldn’t hear what the abductors were saying over the roar in his ears, but he watched as the woman dragged Larissa onto the tailgate, snapping at one of the men to hold her upright. She dug through a black duffel sitting on the concrete driveway and pulled out a pair of shears, making short work of the tape on Larissa’s wrists.

“Get her down,” Jane commanded. Larissa was limp between Joe and the woman, long hair draping like a curtain as they laid her flat. The woman pulled a packaged ambu bag out of her duffel and tore off the plastic, connecting the bag to the mask.

She pressed the mask to Larissa’s face and tried twice to force air into her lungs, but Mitchell could see her chest remained still.

Setting the bag to the side, Jane pressed her fingers into Larissa’s neck. “She still has a pulse, but that isn’t going to last long.”

She swung her leg around and straddled Larissa’s prone form, quickly shoving her clasped hands into her navel. The force made Larissa’s chest bulge and her head fall to the side. Larissa’s half-lidded eyes stared empty at Mitchell, and he felt his eyes burn with tears.

Jane shoved her hands into Larissa’s abdomen over and over again until she made a gagging sound, then leaned over her. The blonde swept her fingers between Larissa’s teeth, scooping out vomit. She repeated this process two more times before she pressed the mask to Larissa’s face and squeezed the bag. This time, he watched her chest rise and fall twice before the woman pressed her fingers into Larissa’s neck again.

The female captor snapped her head up, pinning Joe with her fiery glare. “Get everything out of the trunk of my car. All of it. Now!” Then, still straddling Larissa, she clasped her hands together and started giving her forceful chest compressions.

“One, two, three…”

“I can help!” Mitchell pushed himself into his hands and knees. Jim moved closer to him and pressed what Mitchell assumed was the barrel of a gun into the back of his neck.

“Don’t—”

“Let me help!” Mitchell shouted, his heart in his throat as he watched Larissa’s body move with the force of the compressions. “The more hands Jane has to help her, the more likely it is that she can revive Larissa! Please!”

“…twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty! He’s right, Jim!” Jane squeezed the bag twice, Larissa’s chest rising and falling. Then she laid the mask down and started chest compressions again. “One, two, three…”

“I’m not cooperating if she dies,” Mitchell snarled. “I’ve done this before; I can provide actual assistance!”

“Fine!”

Mitchell crawled over and sat down next to Larissa’s head.

“…thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…”

He tried to be gentle as he tipped her head back. He held her airway open, the column of her neck exposed and fragile-looking. As Jane neared thirty compressions, Mitchell picked up the mask and pressed it over Larissa’s mouth, his fingers lapping over her chin.

“Thirty!”

Mitchell squeezed the bag, Jane watching his technique and then nodding. Larissa’s chest rose as he squeezed the bag again. Her half-lidded gaze seemed to rest on him as he helped her breathe, his heart contracting painfully.

“One, two, three…”

Joe ran around the SUV as Jane started chest compressions again, a bag over his shoulder and an oxygen canister and a white plastic board Mitchell didn’t recognize under his arms.

Jane climbed off of Larissa, kneeling at her side. “Joe, put that board next to her, the top aligned with her shoulders. Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen… Okay, I’m gonna roll her onto her side and you slide it underneath her.”

Mitchell lifted the mask off Larissa’s face as Jane rolled her. He quickly grasped Larissa’s chin so her face didn’t strike the concrete, wincing as her limbs flopped tonelessly. When the white board was underneath her, Jane turned Larissa onto her back and quickly adjusted her positioning on the board.

“…twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five…” The board pushed Larissa’s chest into the air and tipped her head back, making the chest compressions look even more dramatic. “…twenty-nine, thirty!”

As Mitchell pressed the mask to her face again and squeezed it, Jane dug out a pair of shears and made quick work of Larissa’s blouse, camisole, and bra.

“Joe, you’re on compressions.”

“I’ve never—”

“Do what she says!” Jim growled. Other than barking orders, he seemed content to stay out of the resuscitation effort.

Mitchell was already on it, terrified that Larissa would just lay there while everyone was arguing. He dropped the bag and scuttled around to her side, his hands finding the reddened area between her breasts. Unrestrained, her large, freckled breasts wobbled as he shoved his hands down between them.

“One, two, three…” Larissa’s stomach bulged with each compression, the CPR board exaggerating the look of the thrusts. He felt like his hands dug into her deeper and more easily with her back bent over the board. “…sixteen, seventeen, eighteen…”

Jane connected the mask to the oxygen tank and opened the valve, then made quick work of applying the defibrillator pads. When Mitchell finished the cycle, he heard a high-pitched whine filling the air. He’d been through this before, and knew this meant his fiancée’s heart was still in her chest. His own beat painfully.

“Joe, hold this mask to her face—like this. Yes, exactly. Now slowly squeeze and release the bag twice.” She watched the smaller male captor and then nodded. “Do that every time he hits thirty.”

“One, two, three…” Mitchell knew he wouldn’t be able to keep this up for long. Every time his head bobbed, it throbbed with pain. He felt dizzy and nauseated. But he also knew Larissa was effectively dead, and that she needed him right now if she had any chance of being revived.

Jane picked up the shears again and snipped through three right side of Larissa’s skirt and tights before pressing her fingers briefly to the pulse point she’d exposed. “Good perfusion.”

“…thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…”

Jane was starting an IV. “I’m going to give her epinephrine and then I’ll take over compressions. After five cycles, I’ll analyze and see if she’s shockable. After that, I’ll intubate her.”

“Thirty!”

Joe gave Larissa two breaths from the bag as Jane finished up with the IV epinephrine. Then she called out: “Switch! One, two, three…”

The monitor bleeped with the rhythm of Jane’s compressions. Mitchell reached down and grasped Larissa’s limp hand. He felt her engagement ring dig into his palm. Her skin was cold; he hoped that was from the air temperature and not lack of circulation. Larissa’s lungs let out huffs of air with each of Jane’s compressions, and Mitchell heard her ribcage creaking.

“I thought you knew what you were doing!” Jim said suddenly.

“Thirty! I came prepared for seizures, you absolute dumbass, not vomit aspiration. I couldn’t steal the entire ambulance! One, two, three…”

Prepared for seizures, he thought. They were willing to risk her having seizures to get money from my company.

Mitchell squeezed Larissa’s hand and released it, then turned to the large duffel bag Jane had on the ground. Inside, he poked around until he found a smaller black kit. When he unzipped it, he saw an assortment of what he recognized as respiratory supplies. Leaning over, he deposited the case on Jane’s side of Larissa, near her head.

“…twenty-nine, thirty! Thank you!” She set herself to selecting a laryngoscope blade and opening the packaging for the endotracheal tube. The monitor squealed a flatline as Joe gave her breaths. “Grab the tape from the end pocket of the bag, please.”

Then she was compressing Larissa’s chest again. Mitchell found the tape and sat it next to the other supplies. He listened to the bleep of her artificial heartbeat, his eyes on her face. “Come on, baby. She gave you the medication, you have to give her something in return!”

He swept a strand of her long, honey-colored hair out of her face.

Before long, the cycle was complete, and Joe was giving her another breath.

Then Jane was back on Larissa’s chest, forcing her sternum toward her heart. Mitchell could see her ribcage flexing as the force rippled down into her abdomen, highlighted further by the opening in her skirt. When Jane next lifted her hands, he could see the bruising over Larissa’s sternum had darkened.

“One more cycle and then we switch,” she said, her eyes on the monitor.

The next cycle of thirty compressions felt brutal to Mitchell. Larissa lay limp and unresponsive, her bloody arms spread and her legs swaying with each thrust. He realized as he was looking at her legs that he could see dark bruising through the tears in the tights. The sight only added to the anger that was intertwined with the fear in the pit of his stomach.

“…twenty-nine, thirty! Keep squeezing the bag until I tell you to stop. Checking her pulse…” The monitor squealed the asystole alarm, and when she pressed her fingers to Larissa’s throat and wrist, she felt nothing. “Joe, scoot out of the way for a minute. Sir, Mitchell, continue compressions until I tell you to pause. I’m going to intubate her now.”

Mitchell started compressions again, though a small part of him wondered where this was going. He’d already had his miracles with Larissa. Seen her almost die three times and come back to him. She wasn’t unscathed, but she’d made it. How could she pull through another time?

Anguish rolled through him and he pushed the feeling through his chest compressions, careful not to pump her chest too fast.

Jane already had the laryngoscope down Larissa’s throat. “Pause compressions.”

Mitchell stopped pressing down on Larissa’s sternum, watching as Jane slid the endotracheal tube down the blade. Shortly after, she reached over and awkwardly grasped something to the side, muttering: “…inflate the cuff.”

Then she withdrew the scope, connected the bag to the tube. She used the stethoscope hanging from her neck to listen while she squeezed the bag.

“I’m in. Start compressions.”

“One, two, three…”

“Joe, squeeze this bag every three seconds. Steadily, don’t squeeze too hard. I’m going to give her more epinephrine. Mitchell, you’re going to perform compressions continuously until I tell you to stop.”

Come on, baby, he thought. Give us something. Please, don’t be dead. Please, God, please… not like this…

He was beginning to breathe hard, felt himself sweating despite the chilly air. Then, a bright red drop splattered onto the pale skin of Larissa’s chest, followed quickly by another.

“You’re bleeding again,” Jane said, glancing up as his head.

“I’ll grab a bandage next time we stop or switch,” Mitchell ground out.

The alarm on the monitor changed to a rapid beeping.

“Pause compressions for analysis… She’s in ventricular fibrillation… Continue compressions and breaths until I tell you to stop.” Jane was briefly silent and then she said. “Both of you stop and get clear of her. No one touching? Clear!”

Mitchell watched, his breath held, as Larissa gave a slight jerk and the monitor was silent. Then the high-pitched whine returned.

“Asystole! Dammit… I’m going to take over compressions, Mitchell. Joe, continue breaths. One, two, three…”

Blood was running down his face, so Mitchell leaned back and grabbed the duffel, dragging it into his lap and quickly going thought the contents. He found what looked like a packaged surgical dressing and tore it open before pressing it to his temple.

“…thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine…”

“We need to get inside,” Jim said.

“I’m no paramedic,” Joe muttered as he squeezed the bag, “But if we aren’t taking her to the hospital then I think staying right here is more likely to result in a positive outcome.”

Positive outcome. He drew a deep, shaky breath. Please. I’ll get you out of here somehow, and you’ll be okay, and in a few months we’ll get married…

“…sixty-two, sixty-three, sixty-four…”

Mitchell sat next to Larissa’s twitching body, hand pressed to the bandage, his eyes unable to keep still. Her head rocked side to side, unseeing eyes staring up at Joe. Her skin was noticeably gray even in the white light of the lamp, and what part of her full lips was visible around the tape had gone blue. The tube protruded between her teeth, keeping her mouth open.

With each compression, Larissa’s shoulders jerked and her full breasts wobbled. The skin of her areolas looked dusky. Her nipples pebbled. The bottom of her ribcage bobbed up and down, and her soft stomach bulged.

“We’ve got v-fib… both of you clear!” Joe let go of the bag and Jane pushed the orange button on the monitor. Larissa’s body jerked. Her head fell to the side, pulled down by the weight of the bag, and Mitchell noticed her eyes had fallen closed.

“Still in v-fib. Joe you’re going to have to do compressions, I need Mitchell on the bag while I push another epi.”

Mitchell scooted around, taking Joe’s place. He quickly righted Larissa’s head and then started squeezing the bag, keeping pressure on his temple with the other hand. His eyes were on Joe; both he and Jane were watching him to see if he would perform effective compressions.

“One, two, three…”

“Good,” Jane said, watching as Joe’s hands plunged rhythmically between Larissa’s exposed breasts. “Don’t stop.”

“Come on, Larissa…” the words came out of him before he even realized he was about to speak. “Please, please, baby, please…”

“…eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…”

“Jane,” Jim said.

“What?”

“How long you gonna do this?” His voice was almost nonchalant, but Mitchell detected an edge to his words.

“What did I tell you about my cooperation?!” Mitchell growled, glaring at Jim. He was careful not to let his emotions affect his hand on the bag.

“I’m not ready to terminate care,” Jane said. “I have a few other things to try if she doesn’t convert to… if her heart doesn’t start beating normally after the next shock.”

“…fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three…”

Jim sat down on the tailgate of the SUV, gun in hand but no longer pointed at anyone in particular.

Time crawled. To Mitchell, it felt like he was squeezing the bag infinitely. Joe’s hands crushed Larissa’s chest over and over again.

Eternity was apparently only two minutes, however, and Jane asked Joe to briefly pause compressions while she looked at the monitor. It was still beeping rapidly, and she asked Joe to give compressions for another twenty seconds or so before she told them both to back away.

“Clear!” Jane pressed the button, and Larissa jerked a third time. A few seconds later, as the monitor chirped, she said: “Joe, resume compressions. I’m going to administer amiodarone and change pad placement, then I will analyze again.”

“One, two, three…”

Are you gone? Mitchell looked down at her face. The delicate skin of her eyelids had gone lavender, and her eyes appeared sunken in.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Jane made a noise, and when he looked up at her, she was staring hard down at Larissa’s IV port. Her eyes were watery.

“Why are you doing this to us?” he asked her, his voice quiet.

Jane flinched, but Jim stood, scowling. He pointed the gun down at Larissa’s lifeless body. “I don’t need her and I don’t need you to cooperate. I can make this situation permanent unless you’d like to shut the fuck up.”

Before Mitchell could respond, Jane said: “Let me do what you have me here to do, Jim.”

To Mitchell’s surprise, the man backed off, lowering the gun and backing away.

“Pause compressions!” Joe lifted his hands and Jane pressed a new defibrillator pad directly over the bruise between her breasts. Then, she rolled Larissa onto her side. Mitchell dropped his hand from his temple, the bandage adhered in place by his blood. He steadied Larissa’s head, rhythmically squeezing the bag and watching as Jane pressed a pad to Larissa’s back.

Jane laid Larissa back onto the CPR board and unplugged the leads of the first set of pads before replacing them with the new set. The rapid beeping picked up where it had left off.

“I’m going to perform chest compressions for one minute and then analyze again,” she said. She resumed compressions, seeming more forceful than before. “…three, four, five…”

Larissa’s stomach bulged and relaxed, bulged and relaxed, breasts quaking. Mitchell adjusted the position of Larissa’s head and kept squeezing the bag.

Different medication, she changed the pads… Please, Larissa, if you’re still in there…

“…twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five…”

“Joe,” Jim said. “Until Jane needs you again, get started with his phone. The faster we get our payout, the faster these folks get to the hospital.”

Joe drew Mitchell’s phone out of his pocket and started picking at a piece of duct tape on the back.

“… fifty-six, fifty-seven, fifty-eight…”

“Larissa,” Mitchell said, trying to tune out everything but the bag and her face. “If you can hear me… please, don’t go. I know it’s going to be hard if you come back, and I know I’m being selfish, but… Please, baby. Don’t go. Don’t go…”

“… seventy-eight, seventy-nine, eighty…”

Another twenty compressions, and then Jane paused compressions long enough to analyze.

“V-fib. Charging.” She forced her hands into Larissa’s sternum for ten to twenty more seconds and then called out: “Everyone clear! Don’t touch her! Come on, Larissa! Clear!”

She pressed the button, discharging the shock.

Larissa spasmed.

Mitchell grabbed the bag and squeezed it. Jane pressed her fingers into Larissa’s neck and the inside of her wrist.

The monitor registered a beat. Then another.

“Sinus!”

--

Part Two

[spookyspaghettisundae]

Only Echoes Remained

The dark of night was still hours away. Even so, the pine trees in these Appalachian woods conspired with a thick fog and gray skies to suffocate the light, coating their world in a gray mist.

Despite the wintry cold trapped inside the car, and the stench of cigarettes caked into every piece of fabric, Braylon Turner was sweating bullets. Leroy had told him to keep the old car’s lights off while they drove through the woods, up a meandering and narrow path into the dark heart of Bumfucksville, Nowhere.

Leroy was also sitting on the backseat with Jimmy “Changa” Chance, keeping the muzzle of a revolver jammed into the spot where Jimmy’s jawbone connected to his wiry neck.

Gun metal had scraped the skin raw there, turning it a deep and uncomfortable red. The skin around it glistened with sweat, just like Braylon’s creased forehead.

Whenever Braylon met Leroy’s gaze in the rearview mirror, Leroy looked cool. Cold as ice.

Grim in his expression, Leroy mostly stared ahead, as if he was driving the car himself, while he kept that gun close to Jimmy, keeping the smaller man in a one-armed bear hug. He not only lorded twice the body mass over their hostage, he had something Jimmy didn’t: Leroy used to work as a gun-thug for one of the local gangs.

Now, coal from the mines had turned the edges of his fingernails black. Like the fingernail on his index finger, curved around the pistol’s trigger with skill and grim certainty.

Certainty that he could squeeze that trigger, and certainty that he had no qualms of painting the backseats red with Jimmy’s insides, whatever consequences be damned.

Leroy carried all that in his aura. A darkness. He had shot and maimed and killed people before.

The car slowed. Its old brakes squealed as the vehicle stopped.

At a crossroads.

“Where to next?” Braylon asked.

“Right,” Jimmy squeezed out.

Braylon stepped on the gas and they continued on.

Jimmy started whining again. “Look, guys, you might not give a shit about how much trouble I’ll get in by doin’ this? But you don’t know who you’re fuckin’ with if you wanna go—”

“We know and we don’t give two shits, you lil’ rat-shit weasel,” said Leroy. “We better be there soon, like you said, or I’m about to give this lil’ gun a test drive on separating your brains from your brainpan.”

He gave a painful shove of the gun’s muzzle into Jimmy’s neck for emphasis.

“Okay! Okay! Jesus, fuck, calm down, man! You’ll get your money back, okay?”

Braylon flinched. He didn’t care about the money. He cared about the twitch in his fingers, the sickness in his stomach, and the yearning for his next fix.

The money had always only ever paved the way. The goal had always only ever been the sweet release of the soaring heights beyond that.

Leroy, on the other hand, fundamentally disagreed. He growled. The former gun-thug might have genuinely wanted to hurt Jimmy.

“Our money,” he growled. A strange way to put it, as it had been, at this point, Leroy’s money that Braylon had smoked. “You, what—you get your rocks off on squeezin’ some poor assholes for all their savings while they kill themselves?”

Jimmy protested much and pointed at the rearview mirror to accuse Braylon. “Look, man! Look! You tried to sell some o’ that product, like every other two-bit junkie, and here—”

Leroy jammed the gun into Jimmy’s neck again and sneered.

“Shut the fuck up, weasel. You gonna complain now about dogs be eatin’ dogs? You’re lucky if I let you walk outta all this alive. I put other shit-kickers six feet under for less.”

Braylon slowed. The curves of the dirt road were treacherous, the path littered with muddy ditches—one mistake, and they’d get the car stuck, stranding them in some backwater woods for days. According to Martha, there was a clan of cannibals living out there, too.

Dirt and grit from the coal mines marked Braylon’s fingernails just like Leroy’s. Shaky hands danced between the weathered old steering wheel and the stick shift as he switched gears, making the car snake more slowly through the forest.

Leroy hissed at him.

“Don’t fuckin’ slow down now, man. We got places to be.”

“Why’d you… why’d you d-do this, anyway?” Braylon stammered out.

Leroy didn’t answer. He glowered into the rearview mirror, meeting Braylon’s gaze.

“Keep your eyes on the road, man.”

Braylon knew better. He did as Leroy said.

Part of Leroy just wanted his money back, but they were friends. They had been digging coal together for the past two years, drinking together sometimes, and sharing their grievances and grief in all the quiet moments in between.

Leroy had given up on his old dreams of big money. Whatever he was doing now, with Jimmy in his iron grip, he was doing all this for him.

His meaty fist dwarfed the silvery pistol in his clutches, just like he dwarfed the spindly Jimmy in his grip on the backseat.

Braylon licked his salty lips, hungry for some kind of freedom, hungry for the impending release he envisioned to be awaiting him at the end of this road.

That’s why he did as Leroy said. He kept his eyes trained on the prize, on wherever the dirt road curved around the trees and frosty mounds. He pictured himself inhaling those poisonous clouds of smoke, and finding the release from his lousy life that it always brought him, however ephemeral, however temporary—however harsh the crash back into reality ever followed. Time bled from future into past.

He’d soon be doing that, sitting on a porch, inhaling toxic smoke. Flying high, on strange wings, all horrendous pain be damned.

And then, they were there.

A small, old cabin awaited them in these woods, separated from a smaller shed. A rusty old pickup truck stood parked in the driveway. Ice had turned old leaves and pine needles into spiky clumps of dirt all around.

Even the snow stayed away from these grounds.

A bald, old, and grizzled-looking man stepped onto the cabin’s porch, sporting a stained apron and foggy plastic goggles strapped over his eyes. His silvery beard looked unkempt, but long, and speaking volumes of a long life to boot.

His rubber-gloved hands held nothing. His whole posture portended a quiet power, a certainty to rival the grim reaper’s very own image. The old cook stood still like a statue, staring at their car as they arrived, pulling onto his sorry lot.

The goggles and his stony expression masked whatever the old cook might have been feeling or thinking while he watched the three men emerge from the car.

Braylon, a sweaty and haggard mess he had never seen before in his life.

Jimmy “Changa” Chance, another sweaty mess, whom Leroy had beaten bloody enough to not kill him outright, but just bloody enough to make a point. Was his nose broken? He had sure complained about it enough on the long ride over.

And Leroy, of course—a mountain of muscle and bad attitude, exuding a cosmically dark aura, yet dressed simply in a plaid jacket and dirty jeans, like he had just crawled out of the coal mines where he worked with Braylon.

“Jimmy,” said the old cook, drawling out the name with deliberate contempt. Slowly, deliberately, he started removing his rubber gloves. Even slower than that, he said, “Never a pleasure to see your dumb ass ‘round these parts. Now, to what do I owe this dishonor? Thought I had made myself clear about our… business arrangement.”

Jimmy scoffed. It almost surfaced as a laugh, cut short when Leroy shoved him, forcing him down onto his knees, where the frozen dirt crunched.

Leroy answered in his stead. “Listen up, and listen carefully. I don’t give a shit whatever the hell your old business arrangements were, ‘cause we’re here for a different kind o’ business. The business o’ gettin’ our money back, and the business o’ getting my good friend here some o’ the product he’s owed after this little rat-shit right here kept fleecin’ ‘im for the shirt on his back.”

The old cook lifted his goggles, revealing a steely, cold gaze. He studied Leroy. Then he scanned Braylon up and down, piercing his soul whenever they made eye contact, however brief.

The cook didn’t even spare Jimmy another glance.

He didn’t offer any words in answer.

Leroy squinted.

“You hear me, or are you hard o’ hearin’ in your venerable age?”

The old cook smirked, scoffed.

“Hear you loud an’ clear, stranger,” the old cook grumbled. “I can offer you product, but I can’t offer you money. Ain’t got nothin’ here. I put my money in the bank, just in case some yahoos like you show up, tryin’ to rob little ol’ me.”

Fear bubbled up in Braylon’s gut. His attention bounced back and forth between Leroy and the meth cook, losing hope in them winning whatever kind of match this was.

Leroy wiggled his nose and frowned. He shook his head.

“And by ‘bank’, you mean that mean son of a bitch over in that holler we passed on the way here, ain’t that right?”

The meth cook slowly nodded, eyes locked onto Leroy. He grunted in the affirmative.

“Tom, man, come on, man,” Jimmy started babbling. He slapped his hands together, and still being on his knees, looked like he was praying to Old Tom Reed, the meth cook, like he was praying to God alimighty. “Come on, man! Give ‘em somethin’! Give ‘em whatever they want, I’ll make it up to you, okay? You ever hear about what this guy here did? This is Leroy Morin, he—”

Leroy kicked Jimmy in the hollow of his back, sending him his knees down deeper, face-first into the dirt, where new streaks of blood soon seeped out of fresh scratches.

“Shut the fuck up, rat-shit, I ain’t in the mood. I’m only gonna say it one more time, then I’m sendin’ you to your maker.”

Leroy cocked the hammer of his revolver to underline his words.

Jimmy complied. He didn’t even dare to get up from his knees, staying there on the ground, with stray pine needles flaking with the dirt from his leather coat.

The cook slowly bunched his gloves together in a fist, pursed his lips, and nodded.

“Sure,” he said, yet he locked his gaze onto Braylon instead of the gun-toting man he was answering. “I don’t want no trouble, and I ain’t gonna seek no quarrel with y’all. My daddy ain’t raised me that way.”

It was like he could sense the disease in him. Not just the addiction, or the visible discomfort that rode in alongside the pestilent horseman of withdrawal. But the greater sickness, the one deep within, the creeping death…

Did he know?

Asked the cook, Tom Reed, with the gravity of an executioner, “You wanna sample my product, son?”

Braylon licked his lips.

Was the meth cook going to try anything funny?

It didn’t feel that way.

That stony gaze, that grave-like certainty. Tom Reed exuded a darkness even more misty and overwhelming than Leroy’s presence.

Braylon shot Leroy a glance. His friend returned a cold stare.

Leroy almost sang when he threatened the old cook. “No funny business, Tom. Give him his fix, and we talk shop. Ain’t nobody else need to get hurt today.”

Then it all happened so fast. Anticipation contracted all time, compacting it into a tiny cube. The addiction drove Braylon, carrying him atop the waves of his dreamy haze.

Agreements were made, though nobody shook hands. The tiny flame of the lighter was cold, so cold, but the smoke burned so good.

Before long, the smoke from the pipe rose to join the gray mists in the Appalachian woods, as Braylon sat on Tom Reed’s porch, inhaling his favored poison, and it began to cloud, and eclipse everything. The smoke and its poison ate away at the frayed edges of time, fraying them even further—

Twilight turned brighter, the voices of the men speaking turned sharper, clearer, and that clarity all spilled, washing over into Braylon’s consciousness.

The air out here had never been fresher. Why, why did he hate his home state so much? Even between the skeletal trees in winter, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by supposed cannibals, and backwater gun-thugs, Braylon now saw beauty in everything. A fleeting insight, but a powerful one nevertheless.

Another hit. He was soaring. His mind was soaring. He felt so alive, and all the shit in his life felt so far behind him, like it had never even mattered to begin with.

Braylon even embraced the beauty in the death awaiting him. The uncertainty of it entered his consciousness—how much had he spent on the meth when he could have saved up to have a doctor find out if he really had the cancer that haunted his nightmares?—yet his mind painted it all with beautiful strokes, vague and emotional, filled with love, and self-destruction in equal parts. Ethereal, spectral, human.

Sacred dirt. Frozen, crunching underfoot. Flying high. Men and insects were all alike under God’s vast sky, Braylon reckoned.

Another hit, and he was swimming. An ocean upon an ocean, floating on the waves above darkest depths, riding a high so high that he was inches away from touching God in the heavens with his very own fingertips.

Or his brain was bleeding on the inside.

Then the demons attacked.

Winged shadows, huge, swooping down from silver skies as shadowy streaks of death, cutting through the peaceful forests with their braying cries, and their tearing claws, and beaks shaped like swords of unholy judgment.

The men screamed, scrambling inside, and the unreality of Braylon’s trip admixed with the horrible reality of their situation.

They cowered inside Tom Reed’s cabin, hidden from those hell-beasts.

And whatever clarity Braylon had imagined to perceive from the others talking all around him, he now barely grasped whatever they were saying until a new panic gripped him—all his skin slick with sweat, and dripping with the stink of his terror—and Leroy’s meaty fist gripping him by the fabric on his shoulder, shaking a shred of sense back into him.

“What the fuck,” Jimmy blubbered. “W-w-what in the ever-loving fuck are those things?”

“Demons,” breathed Braylon, firm with belief. Harbingers of doom, arriving on their leathery wings to drag him to hell.

Drag him down for all he had done, to his wife and son, to his neighbors, and even, to some extent, to his only friend left, Leroy.

Had he said that all out loud, or just thought it?

“Shut up. You’re high as a fuckin’ kite,” growled his friend. Leroy added, “You got any guns in here?”

The question wasn’t meant for him.

Tom, the old cook, shook his head in response.

“Don’t need ‘em, don’t need more risks of blowin’ my place sky-high when I got—”

Leroy snarled, “You fuckin’ kidding me? I only got this six-shooter, I don’t know how the fuck I’m supposed to take down even one o’ those things. They are gargantuan!”

Tom Reed peered out a window, hiding in the shadow of the corner nearby.

The old man kept his voice down, but failed to mask any hint of irony when he said, “I’d say ‘gargantuan’ is an exaggeration, but each of ‘em is about as big as your car, I reckon.”

By contrast, there was no exaggeration in his description. One of the two beasts had pounced on Braylon’s old Dodge, crushing the metal and blowing all windows out of their frames. The creature unfurled its massive wings to a frightening span, creating a menacing silhouette perched upon the car’s wreckage.

The other beast screeched from atop the cabin’s roof. More dust rained down when it pounded against the wood, thumping around, seeking a way inside.

“No, seriously though, what the fuck are those things?” Jimmy asked again. His voice shook like someone stuck in a powerful earthquake. “Lemme go! We can make a run for it, lemme go!”

His cheek smooshed against the dirty floors of Tom’s cabin, as Leroy kept Jimmy buried underneath him with all his weight and mass, pinning him down with his gun still leveled at Jimmy’s neck—as if he had to fear Jimmy running away more than the terrible creatures outside.

Braylon himself, he couldn’t make any sense of it. He curled up into a fetal position underneath a table, as if that would help anybody.

“Christ, man,” Leroy snarled, “get a grip.”

Time had stopped contracting. Now, it expanded, stretching thin, reaching into a dark infinity. Was this death? A different death than he had always envisioned for himself, a quiet darkness instead of the beeping devices all around him while he rested on a hospital bed?

Even so, Braylon had not seen how Leroy got up, releasing Jimmy, or how they had argued, screaming at each other, while more dust rained from the ceiling, because the beast trampled upon the roof, flapping its furious wings.

When the tears had started streaming, and clouding Braylon’s vision, he would never be able to say with certainty, for he screwed his eyes shut more than once in despair, clouding his sight entirely, turning everything into the senseless blur and cosmic joke that reality had descended into.

Jimmy ran from the cabin’s front door after their screaming match, panting in panic as he ran towards the trees, hoping to evade the winged beasts by seeking other cover.

“Idiot,” Leroy had muttered, peering outside after his lost hostage, mere seconds before the carnage.

The beast that had trashed Braylon’s car pounced on Jimmy—he didn’t even make it halfway to the trees. Claws shredded him, and a long, blade-like beak picked away at his insides. Thrashing human limbs turned limp. Mighty wings flapped; once, twice, always beating like thunderclaps, as the flying monster lifted off again, carrying Jimmy’s mangled corpse into the misty air.

Blood still splattered to the ground with red chunks before the creature disappeared with him.

“That’s a dinosaur,” Tom Reed muttered, wagging a finger at the foggy window, and taking fearful steps back away from it.

“Bull-shit,” Leroy drawled out in a snarl.

His eyes flashed with horror. The horror of helplessness, of not knowing what to do, or how to escape their predicament. They were under siege by these two beasts.

The pistol in his hand never looked tinier.

His eyes also flashed with knowing, with recognition. A glance he shot Tom’s way only confirmed that he believed what the meth cook had just said, even if he claimed the opposite. Even if he repeated it.

Tom didn’t bother disagreeing. He kept his eyes on the space outside.

The stretch to his old pickup truck. Short enough to make the run, but so far away that the creature on the rooftop could snatch any of them like the other had taken Jimmy.

Then more dust rained from the ceiling, and the wood of it began to groan and crack. The silhouette of that sword-beaked beast painted itself against the gloomy gray sky where its claws tore open a hole to the outside, and it screeched—

A screech so blood-curdling, so high-pitched, it made Braylon’s blood boil. He burned with dread, and he grew wings, wings to carry him away.

The haze never helped him, it never truly had. Like all other addicts, it was more convenient to believe the contrary, though. He always ran from his troubles, soared higher above the highs that he inhaled from his meth pipe, thinking that those troubles all looked so small and insignificant from the loftiest of heights.

His wings, they carried him outside. The high made him feel faster, stronger, luckier. Happier. Maybe if he just believed hard enough, the imagination would become a truth.

He remembered his son’s smile as he ran from Tom’s cabin. Braylon ran despite Leroy’s shouts, despite his only friend trying to stop him from running out into the woods.

Alone.

Some part of Braylon understood everything, but the high eclipsed the low. It was almost like he could see himself from the outside, a little man, a loser running away, running for his life. Pathetic, yet capable of survival.

He ran like hell and he made it. Unlike that little rat Jimmy, Braylon made it to the trees. And beyond.

The last he saw of Tom’s cabin was a glimpse of that winged hell-beast, rampaging on the cabin��s rooftop, shredding wood and sending splinters flying in every direction. The firecracker’s clap of Leroy shooting at the beast from inside the cabin. And the creature, high on its own bloodlust, perhaps distracted by a bullet, didn’t even notice Braylon running away.

And the silhouette of the other, carrying Jimmy’s corpse into misty hell, was long gone. Had he imagined it? Was all of this just a nightmare he was about to wake up from?

Braylon’s lungs screamed at him.

How long had he been running? Moments, minutes, or hours? His sides hurt, his feet barked, and fresh blood coated his hands wherever he had scratched and scraped his leathery palms on the dry, cold wood of the infinity of trees around him.

The woods spun in endless circles, and dizziness set in.

Had he truly gotten away, or just slipped into another purgatory, descending ever closer to hell?

The high was gone. Reality kicked him in the back, and the stomach, and the teeth.

Braylon was hurting all over, and his lungs would not permit him to run any farther. Guilt gripped him, and wind cut like a knife against the cold sweat on his forehead, all squeezing him down to his heart—

He had abandoned his only friend. He had abandoned Leroy.

As much as the world spun around him, he spun around in the opposite direction, lost in the woods, recognizing nothing, oblivious as to where to go.

He wanted to run back, to Tom’s cabin, to find and help Leroy, so they could both get the hell out of there. Or was he just selfish again? Knowing he couldn’t make it on his own?

How the hell could he have left him behind like that? What kind of monster was he?

“The pathetic kind,” he muttered to himself, in the middle of nowhere, crashing down onto his knees, sorrier than ever before in his sorry life.

More moments or minutes passed, and clarity crystallized with the same cutting coldness as the wintry winds howling all around him.

That’s when the chittering and scuttling sounds began. The shuffling, the squeaking, the chirping.

Buzzing.

Wings, far tinier than those of the pterodactyls that had attacked Tom’s cabin.

Swarms of them.

The forest grounds teemed with strange life. Insects the size of dogs covered those frozen grounds, swarming, chittering, chirping, and closing in on Braylon. From every side.

They vaguely reminded him of locusts with their sleek green limbs, but also of wasps for their slender, and deadly-looking shapes. Sticking to the ground, they scuttled and swarmed towards him.

And in that moment, Braylon felt no more panic. Only resignation. He knew deep down his time had come.

Still dizzy, he spun around, seeking for another way to run, and quickly giving up, surrendering to the bleak reality of his situation. The inevitability of it engulfed him.

It was almost liberating. With no decisions left to make, he only tasted his own sickness, and accepted defeat. He still hurt all over, and there was no way he could fight and win against these… things. There were so many of them.

He would try— just like a final gasp escapes the dying lungs—he would thrash and fight back, powered by the same animal instinct that drives any creature under the sun to fight back in the face of their impending doom. Future and past melted into present, coalescing with growing clarity.

Before the inevitable fight to delay his death, he saw no escape. The swarm of these huge locusts was all around him, offering nowhere to run to, no possibility of getting past the living flood of buzzing wings and snapping mandibles.

They were so fast as they scuttled towards him. He never could have outrun them, not even in the wildest dreams that came with his highs.

“I’m so sorry,” was the last thing he managed to utter.

Braylon wasn’t even sure whom it was meant for.

Everybody, probably.

Then the swarm converged on him and buried him alive. Started eating him alive. Snapping mandibles tore at flesh. The buzzing drowned out everything but the screams.

His own screams eclipsed his every thought for the next few minutes until he could scream no longer, and only echoes remained, coupled with the burning sensations of pain that accompanied him in the final moments of his gruesome death.

Echoes through time.

[trashyswitch]

Day 13: Sneak Attack

Arin and Dan are doing Game Grumps together, playing Tears of the Kingdom. Arin takes his time building a cool vehicle to show off to Dan, who goes to the bathroom. When will Dan come into the Grumps room again?

*sigh* I need to set reminders on my phone or something. Whatever...Game Grumps is now on my list of YouTubers. I hope you enjoy!

Moved Link around to show off the pile of parts. “Okay. I have Zonaite parts out the wazoo, and I’m going to make the ultimate car.” Arin explained. 

“Hold on, I gotta pee.” Dan said, before getting up. 

“What?! B-but-” Arin whined. 

“Use this time to make your car. I’ll be right back.” Dan told him before walking away from the mic and leaving the room. You could hear the door close in the background while Arin moved Link closer to the collection of crap. 

Arin sighed and started to move Link around the landscape, using the Zonai arm to put pieces together to make a vehicle of some sort. What he was making…no one could be entirely sure. Not even Arin could comprehend what he was coming up with. All he knew was that he was taking Zonaite vehicle parts and crumpling them together into a flying, driving thing with rockets and batteries and…anything else he had in his inventory. He had everything here, he just needed to turn it into something that drives, steers and flies. 

The truth is, Arin kinda just threw some things into the middle and hoped it would turn into something awesome. And while it kinda was, it…also wasn’t at the same time. He added 4 big wheels to the vehicle to make it look like a dollar store monster truck, before adding about 6 fans on top of each other on the back…before adding a pole of wood to the middle to put a Zonaite wing onto it. 

With the zonaite wing placed on top, Link collected planks of wood and put them together to make a larger plank of wood. The way he glued them together, made the plank look glued together off center…almost like a child was playing Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom. Which…lets face it: Arin is a giant child. 

With that, he set up a ramp on the end of the cliff. His plan was to activate the zonaite vehicle and make it jump the ramp and glide itself down to the ground below. It was risky and a little stupid even for Arin…but god dammit, he was gonna try it. 

Due to having no more room in the vehicle, Arin decided to add a battery to the top of the zonaite wing in an attempt to give him an endless battery. Though he knew this was stupid and it was going to make his vehicle fall as a result of gravity, he needed the battery to make sure it keeps flying and doesn’t fall like the rest of his contraptions have up until this point. He needed this vehicle to last him a bit longer than 10 minutes. 

With that figured out, it would seem that the vehicle was ready. Arin turned the vehicle around and dropped it to the ground to test it out. He summoned a steering stick and added the stick to the front, before hopping onto the car. It looked like a toddler’s rendition of a golf cart…only this ‘golf cart’ was equipped with monster wheels. 

He pulled out a weapon and hit the zonaite fans, causing the zonaite parts to turn on. Soon, the vehicle started moving really fast really quickly. 

“Oh shit oh shit oh shit-” He steered the vehicle around a boulder, nearly scraping the side of the vehicle against the boulder. “Come on.” He straightened out Link’s driving, and attempted to maneuver himself through the forest. But the steering was too slow compared to the speed it was going at. As a result, he kept bumping into trees and rocks, before finally parking the vehicle against a boulder. 

Despite the lack of steering options, the vehicle he had coupled together in 5 minutes, was working surprisingly well. With this test run successful, he decided the vehicle was ready for co-host viewing. 

As much as he wanted to drive his vehicle back to the right area, Arin feared he may end up breaking the vehicle or sending it flying, breaking it in the process. And he didn’t want to break his precious vehicle before Dan got to feast his eyes on it! So, Arin hopped out of the car and grabbed the vehicle with Link’s magical hand ability. Despite it taking longer, Arin made Link carry it all the way back to the plank of wood he had set up earlier before placing it down to the ground. 

While he waited for Dan to come back, Arin added more Zonai batteries, so he didn’t have to worry about the vehicle running out of Zonai energy while he’s up in the air. Cause let’s face it: Dan and the entire audience are well aware of how quick Arin’s plans will fail solely based on the contraptions’ lack of Zonai energy. So filling up on them was very much needed. 

“Bah!” Someone said breathlessly, grabbing his shoulders. 

“FAHCK-?!” Arin jumped, dropping the controller in the process. 

Dan bursted out laughing as he went around the couch, picking up Arin’s controller off the floor and pausing the game. “Did I really get ya?!” Dan asked. 

“Yeah, you-...Wha-” Arin looked at Dan as he sat down, confused as to why he paused the game. But his confusion vanished the moment he felt fingers against his sides and ribs. “HeheHAHAHAHA- WHOHO-” 

“Surprise!” Suzy declared beside him, tickling up and down his sides. 

“SUHUHUZYHY?!” Arin reacted. He felt his arm be pulled back so he was laying back down again. “WHAHA-” 

“What’s so funny, Arin?” Dan asked, trying to tickle his armpits. 

“YOU AHAHASSHOHOHOLE!” Arin yelled. 

“Suzy, do you know why Arin’s laughing?” Dan asked curiously. 

“Sorry, I’m as in the dark as you are.” Suzy replied. 

“IHIHI’M GOHONNA KIHIHIHILL YOHOHOHOU TWOOHOHOHOOO!” Arin yelled at them. 

“Kill us?!” Dan gasped. “Arin!” He looked at Suzy. “Can you believe this guy?!” 

“He wants to kill us! And I am offended!” She reacted, squishing his belly playfully. 

“Do you think the lovelies know why he’s laughing? Maybe they can provide some clues.” Dan asked. 

“By the time we find out from the viewers, Arin will be over his laughing fit.” Suzy replied. 

“FAHAHAHAHAHACK!” Arin shouted, wiggling around helplessly on the couch. 

“Hey editor, do you know why Arin’s laughing?” Dan asked. 

A little commentary from the editor showed up on the screen. 

[No, I have no idea.] 

“Thanks editor.” Dan said next. 

Suzy waved for Dan to stop tickling Arin. “Okay, you stop.” She said. She gave Dan both of Arin’s wrists, and made him grip them. “Grab these.” She told him. 

“Okay. What are you-” 

She gasped. “PPPPFFFFBBBBBFFFBBBFBFBFBBBFFBTTT!” She blew a large raspberry onto her husband’s belly. 

Arin squealed and squeezed his eyes shut. “NAHAHAHAHAHA! SUHUZYHY! YOUBAHAHAHAHA-” 

“Now now, choose your words carefully.” Suzy warned with a smirk. 

Arin’s laughter lessened to giggles somewhat slowly. “Yohou…You…Two suhuhuhuck.” He told them. “Like a vacuum?” Dan asked. “Or like a black hole?” He asked next. 

“Oh! Maybe like a straw!” Suzy exclaimed with excitement. 

“Or a leaf blower put on suction mode!” Dan joked. 

“Okay, okay, I get it!” Arin yelled as he sat up and rolled himself forward again. “For context, Dan and Suzy had pulled a fuckin’ sneaky tickle attack on me. And I vow to get them both back for that eventually.” Arin told the soon-to-be audience. “But for now:” Arin unpaused the game and pointed to the vehicle. “I wanna show you the vehicle.” Arin said. “Suzy, do you wanna see it too?” Arin asked. 

“Sure!” She replied, sitting beside Arin. 

“Show me the goods.” Dan said. 

Arin made Link hit the fans, causing all the Zonai parts to work together at the same time. “Here we GOOO!” Arin shouted. 

“Oh god that’s fast-” Dan reacted, widening his eyes as the Zonai vehicle flew off the ramp and started to fly. 

Suzy threw her fists in the air and clapped her hands. “YES! Go Link!” 

“Wow! Arin, I’m impressed!” Dan reacted, smiling brightly. 

Arin smiled and began to bow in-person. “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all week.” He said. “Except for Wednesday, because that’s my ‘eat-taco-bell-and-scream-with-pain-from-explosive-diarrhea’ day.” Arin replied. 

“Arin…” Dan sighed. “Don’t ruin it.” 

“Soar off into the sun, Link!” Suzy declared. 

“And then BURN to a crisp on the surface of the sun.” Dan replied. “And then respawn in the same spot you had started at.” Dan added with a laugh. 

“Shut up, shut up.” Arin told them. “Listen…” 

Dan and Suzy went silent as they listened. The only sounds they could hear was the in-game wind and the Zonai energy usage overtop of the breathtaking soundtrack. It was quite beautiful, actually. Really soothing to the average ear. 

“Okay, you can talk.” Arin said. 

“Well now I don’t want to.” Dan admitted. “I’m just enjoying the ride.” 

“How many batteries did you add?” Suzy asked. 

“6 batteries.” Arin said. “We’ve got energy for days.” He said. 

Dan smiled and patted Arin’s shoulder. “Gotta hand it to you, you made a great vehicle.” Dan said. “What’s its name?” Dan asked.

“Well…I think I’m gonna call it…The Butt Chugger 9000.” Arin giggled. “Or, Butt Chugger for short.” 

Dan bursted out laughing. 

“Wanna know how I came up with it?” Arin asks. 

Dan nodded. “Suhure, tell me.” Dan replied. 

“Well…” Arin looks at Dan with pure confidence on his face…before dropping the facade and whispering. “I…actually didn’t really know what I-” 

Dan laughed again. “Ohohoho my god…” He slowly calmed himself down. “Ihi love it. But I have to know if this puppy can glide.” Dan mentioned. 

“Oh, it can glide alright.” Arin replied proudly. “Show me, Arin.” Dan said, sounding unconvinced. “Show me it can fly.” Dan said. 

“Alright, I will.” Arin made Link hit the Zonai fans, to turn off the Zonai equipment. “See? It’s a beautiful, gliding machi-” “It’s falling, Arin.” Dan said quickly. “It’s falling fahahAHAHAHAST! OHOHO SHIT!” Arin cackled. 

Dan covered his mouth. “FULL SPEED AHEAD!” 

“BUHUTT CHUGGER NO!” Arin yelled through his laughter. 

They screamed and freaked out all the way up until the vehicle bounced against the ground, knocking Link off the vehicle and killing him instantly from both the impact and the ejection. The [GAME OVER] screen showed up as the trio laughed their heads off at the stupid death. 

This was SO worth it. 

[vikkrest]

MORE ABOUT GOGI

Just some random things

TW: mention of s/a, prostitution

He was expected to be born in April 1st (Mikel calls him "The pun that took too long to be developed" for that)

The definition of "the middle child", as he's a third kid out of five

Adores both of his sisters, closer to his younger brother than to his older one.

Grew up as a quiet child for all who didn't knew him well. All of his close friends, on the other hand, describe him as a life of the party

Awkward in small talks, extremely talkative when discussing his interests

In general, really cheerful and funny person, often does things just to make others laugh.

"Bully the bullies" is his life slogan. Started a lot of fights in school to defend those who can't do it themselves. Doesn't engage in open fights as an adult, but makes sure the bastard's life is miserable.

Unbelievably stubborn as a person, but obedient as a soldier

Has a bad temper and knows about it, so he just leaves somewhere if he's pissed to blow out the steam. If he can't do that, he completely shuts down and stops speaking completely. He might be hearing, but he doesn't listen to any bs.

Was indolent in his studies, but he's not completely dumb. Often skipped boring, in his opinion, classes, yet got most of the credits later on, he knew his way around teachers

Had been playing basketball in school, that too helped him get his good marks easily (I'm a sportsman and I represent school's basketball team, leave me alone kind of thing)

Wanted to pursue his path in sport, but pa sent him to Russia for studying in college

In college he started working as a delivery guy, then earned(and borrowed) some money to get into driving school. Passed the tests well, but got kicked out of college on the last course because of one exam that he didn't passed. Decided not to try again and moved back to his parents in Georgia

Got into a big fight with his father, once again got sent to Russia, again, to study. Couldn't pay the tuition.

Got scared he'd be drafted, found help in the face of his uncle

As he started his army training in the UK, he kinda liked it.

Haven't met anyone from TF-141, before Price himself reached out to Gogi when Nikolai disappeared from all the radars somewhere in the Middle East

Gogi insisted to come with them, going as far as not letting Price out of his own office before he would allow Gogi to participate in the rescue mission

Almost immediately fucked up as he called out for Nick who was buried under wrecked chopper bits. Group got spotted by hostile forces and showered with bullets, yet all of them made it out alive

At this very mission got his callsign, as Nik scolded him really bad, tugging on Gogi's ear like he was a school boy, while Gogi was wheezing like a piglet, fighting for his life against his furious uncle.

Sucks in talking with girls. He wants to be seen as cool and manly, but as soon as he gets close to the girl he becomes a babbling and blushing mess. More comfortable flirting with boys. With that being said - he's bicurious

TW! Lost his virginity at 16 years old, his uncle from father's side hired a prostitute for him. It wasn't consensual, and Gogi haven't told anyone about it, except Nikolai, his sisters and later, Ghost. He haven't engaged in sexual activity for a long time, so he doesn't know how much this affected him.

Speaking of training, he's doing good, but falling back a bit. Improves when he has a bit of free time.

Fast learner, constantly seeks for new things to try out. Often watches guys from TF-141 training, copies them.

Helps in hangars when Nikolai is there, infodumping on him while Nik does the manual checkups of vehicles

Currently thinking about becoming the mechanic

[bronzewool]

I just had the most stressful hour of my life.

Work can only help me out so much with this move. They were nice enough to put me up in a hotel and get a hire a car for the first two weeks, but I need to find my footing quickly and get my own apartment and vehicle. Unfortunately there is only so much I can do when I have no credit score in this country and have only my savings to keep me afloat.

I went to a car dealer to look at a car I saw on the website that was fairly cheap. The guy goes to get the keys but can't find them, which means its either at a different lot or its already been sold. Since I'm already here I agree to walk around with him and see what else I might like. He asks for my budget and I give him an honest answer. I can spend exactly X amount on a car. But as I quickly found out cars are expensive over here and nothing is really in my budget.

We eventually go back inside and he introduces me to his manager. The manager recommends another vehicle and we go out for a test drive around the neighbourhood. I'm not thrilled with it, but I'm short on time and I need something quick so I figure this is the best I'm gonna get. We go back to the office and he starts throwing numbers at me, some stuff I expected with additional hidden fees, but it just keeps going and the final price is $5000 more than my limit. Feeling embarrassed, I explain to him why I can't buy the vehicle, and his jolly demeanour quickly drops and he asks me how I expected to drive away with a car that costs X amount. I don't. You suggested the car and dumped a whole bunch of fees on me. I told you what I could afford.

Keeping in mind I'm already out of pocket on the down payment for the apartment, buying a phone sim with a US number, the opening deposit for my American bank account that I can't access yet, the fuel for the hire car, and all the food I'm eating. I won't get paid til next month so my savings is all I have and its practically gone within the first week.

I don't have a credit score in this country so I can't just lease a vehicle which would be the cheapest option and save me a lot of anxiety.

He tries to haggle and I'm feeling even shittier because its just not gonna happen. I didn't go out expecting to spend my max limit in the first place. He still wants to make a sale though and tries to show me some other vehicles, but by this point its 8pm and I've been running around all day and I just don't have the mental energy for this anymore. They both eventually let me leave but only if I see another car on the way out and you know what, I actually liked it. But my mood has hit rock bottom I didn't want to be in that office for another hour finalising the paperwork.

I don't know what I did wrong or what I said, but I felt like I was speaking a different language and wasting everyone's time. I'm not hiding additional savings you can strongarm out of me. I went to you as a customer asking for help and you made me feel bad for not being able to afford more than what I had. If I could afford more I would have told you. I was trying to help you make a quick sale by eliminating what was out of my price range so we could focus on what was in stock. Not present you with a challenge to charm more money out my ass.

[voidpacifist]

the following is an excerpt from the sticky notes rewrite, which is still in its first draft. this is easily some of my best writing, so I wanted to share it with you. as a treat :)

content warnings for implied and overt ableism, though it is fairly brief

-

October, traveling south on I-81

The wind was whipping at his mother’s hair through the passenger window. Steve could feel it in his ears, warm and fast and unrelenting as the vehicle growled beneath his bare feet. It was autumn now, an unusually hot day, and he was twelve years old, and the year was 1979. In his head, he could see the individual numbers, the one of his pointing finger, the nine of his index and thumb tapping twice, the seven of his fourth finger following the same motion, and the nine again. It was easy this way, to pretend it was just a year, just a fraction of his life that he was withstanding.

Easy, and merciful, but ultimately dishonest to himself. It was 1979, which meant the beast of change had shown up to barrel through him. They were in New York not one hour ago, but soon enough, they’d be someplace new.

He wanted to hate it, the way he hated a lot of things that had happened in his short span of existence, but he couldn’t bring himself to. It wasn’t something he could judge as a good or a bad change, it was just…a change, really. The things he’d grown used to had ultimately not stood the test of time, because something about the last month had turned his mother into someone restless, and his father restless with her. The two of them stopped talking with their hands as much in conversations he was present for, and he sensed it long before they told him that they would be moving states.

He didn’t like the suddenness of it. But his mother, rock solid in much of her ways, had an underlying vigilance his whole life that couldn’t be quelled. He supposed now that this was just part of it.

A sign passed by his window that read in great, white letters the names of different cities. Scranton 20 was all he needed to read, dead center on the list, to know that his home state was out of sight now, passed by some time ago when he wasn’t paying attention. The thought stung — his chance to say goodbye had been snatched from him by the density of his own brain and everything passing through it. He felt like a black hole, not so much his mind destroying anything not related to moving states, but rather pressing them smaller until he forgot they existed.

He didn’t understand it. His mother adored the house they’d lived in for the past nine years, and told him often and at length about how much she loved it when his father had surprised her with the place. Once, she’d said to him, eyes alight in fond memory, the paint on the walls had been so bright it felt like stepping into a vacuum of color, rather than a colored room. If he thought back to his early childhood, to the ages of four and five and six, he swore he could snag glimpses of the same colors that captured his mother’s happiness in such visceral ways.

His mother, who painted on a smile and kept her head high for the drive across the country, but couldn’t meet his eyes when she spoke, fidgeted with the buckles on her purse, looked so frightened when she thought Steve wasn’t paying attention. Or maybe she did know he was — maybe it was just her looking for moments where she truly felt tethered enough to display what weighed most on her.

He pulled his school bag off of the floor of the car, unzipping the top and fishing out a notepad. His father had given him a new one each year since his sixth birthday, along with a new, shiny pen for writing with. At first, Steve had been puzzled by them, and a little bit bruised by it. The kids in his classes and at the park and at church never wanted to talk to him anyway, never wanted to face him when they did because they were afraid of what he sounded like.

He’d yelled at Ronan Harrington about it once on a Sunday afternoon, screaming what surely sounded like nonsense except in his head. Empty empty empty, he’d shrieked at him until his throat felt torn up by grains of sand.

His father, remarkable and extraordinarily calm even while Steve’s ire rained on him, let him do so, took the sting of his own son’s rebuke because he would never need paper and ink for others to talk to him and he would never experience the humiliation of people wrinkling their noses at how he sounded and he would never know fully what it felt like, to keep giving and giving and giving more of himself without getting anything back to fill the holes. His father let the tirade continue for an hour, until Steve could do nothing with the energy he’d siphoned out of himself except collapse to a tearful heap on the floor.

It will be filled, he’d said when Steve was calm enough to see his hands through his moist vision. You will meet people, and it will be filled.

The one he had in his hands now was hardly used, but enough by the few people he’d been acquainted with who got on with him that a few pages were sparsely covered. Looking over the four different fonts left his guts feeling like jelly, like his resolve could be felt waning bit by bit. The further away from the maybe-friends he’d made that he became, the less grounded he felt.

He scribbled where are we? in his scratchy, fresh-seventh-grader font, before tapping his mother on the shoulder. She turned and faced him, the underside of her eyes pink in a way that meant he should pretend not to notice. He offered her the notebook, along with a painted smile of his own, small enough that it didn’t feel fake. Taking the pen from his hand, she jotted down her answer, and he received it back in her loopy cursive. North Pennsylvania.

Having it in writing felt fiercely and wholly undoing of his first conclusion — this wasn’t just a change the way a change in and of itself was new and different and jarring. This was the awful kind, the kind that left him grieving for the months he could have had if they’d stayed. The same grief ping-ponged between himself and his mother in seconds, and he leaned over to kiss him on the head.

O-K? she asked him. She didn’t have to, because she could see the real answer in his face the way he could see it in hers.

O-K, he parrotted back to her. She couldn’t look him in the eye before turning back around, and the wind continued whipping in her hair as the outside world blurred beyond the car windows.

[elfmoon3]

A Shadowy Mist Chapter 24 (Transformers Animated story)

Pairings: Prowl x Oc, Bumblebee x Oc, Optimus Prime x Black Arachnia.

Summary: The loud noises of Detroit are somehow bothering Prowl. How will Shadow Mist help him?

Location: The Autobot Hideout in Detroit

Shadow Mist was running more tests on Prowl's heightened senses with Ratchet's help. Meagan stands there and watches. "You know, noise cancelation headphones can help." She said, "Noise cancelation headphones." Ratchet said to the vampire girl. "What are the purpose of such a thing." He asked her. "Well, I'm not saying he is, but autistic people use them to block loud noises." She answered. The Cybertronians looked at her with confusion. "What?" She asked, "Uh, what does autistic mean?" Shadow Mist asked, "Oh I never told you about autism yet." She said. "What is it, a human condition?" Ratchet asked. "It's a disorder. Some humans get it, and some humans don't." She explained, she even explained it more about the different types of autism. "But again, I don't think Prowl is autistic. I don't think Cybertronians can get a condition like that." Meagan said, "And you know about this human disorder? How?" Shadow Mist asked "cause I have it." Meagan answered.

Later in the main room of the Hideout

The Autobots terminal screen shows Director Mavis' face. "Agent Walker's disorder was a shock to us the first time she joined. Despite the fact that she was autistic, we kept her around." She said to Optimus Prime, who linked the conversation to Ultra Magnus as well. "I never would've thought that Meagan would have this disorder." Optimus said "Well it's undetectable now since she's high functioning. But if you have any questions, she'll answer them as best she can." Director Mavis said. "And I'm glad she's trying her best to help Prowl with his heightened senses." Ultra Magnus said, "As you should, Ultra Magnus, Meagan is a caring person, especially to those who are like her." Director Mavis said. "We'll try to understand more about her as best we can, Director." Optimus said. "Good. Meeting adjourned." She said, hanging up along with Ultra Magnus. Optimus Prime looked at Meagan, who was playing a video game with Bumblebee. "How are you this good?" She asked the young bot. "Been practicing." He answered as he beat her character. "Aw, c'mon." Meagan said sadly. PixelSpark was watching them play, "That's my Bumbly Bee." She said, hugging him. Optimus smiled and then saw Prowl, who looked concerned. "Everything alright, Prowl." He asked the ninjabot. "I'm fine, just worried about what I've become is all." He answered. "Well, Shadow Mist is trying her best to help you." Optimus said. Bumblebee looked at his teammate, he's also concerned for his ninjabot friend. At least Prowl isn't infected with space barnacles this time. "Hey, uh Prowl, how about we go for a drive to the forest, bot to bot?" He asked, Prowl looked at Bumblebee with confusion. Why does Bumblebee want to go to the forest all of a sudden. "Ok?" He said in question. The two Autobots transformed into their vehicle mode and drove off.

Later in the forest near a mining tunnel.

Bumblebee stopped and transformed into his robot mode along with Prowl. "Why are we here?" Prowl asked. "Remember the time we got controlled by space barnacles?" Bumblebee asked, "You tried your best to protect me and Sari. Heck, you even helped the dinobots, get over your modification obsession, and that processor over matter trick always helped us in a jam. But most of all, you sacrificed yourself to save everyone. Even if you are half terrorcon, you're still the same ol Prowl I know and look up to." He said smiling, "You looked up to me?" Prowl asked. "Frag yeah!" Bumblebee answered. "You're like a brother to me." He added, Prowl looked at Bumblebee with a smile. But the sound of an ice beam was heard that frozen a tree. "Well, isn't this a spark to spark conversion." A German voice said, the two Autobots turned around to see Blitzwing. The Autobots were about to attack, "Now don't try anything hasty. It's best if you don't get frozen."Blitzwing said, aiming his ice cannon towards them. "Now, you're gonna tell me more about these terrorcons, and I'll let you go." He said calmly.

To be continued...

[ramhaiba]

𝖫𝗂𝖺𝗋, 𝖫𝗂𝖺𝗋

Pairing- Yandere Rintaro Suna x Reader

Masterlist . . . Part two

"You don’t know where you’re running to. All you know is that if you stop he’ll catch you. You don’t even know who he is."

Contains- Serial Killer! Suna, slightly inspired by the movie 'Secret Obsession', reader pretends to have amnesia, stockholm syndrome(?), dubcon, mentions of masturbation (m), dry humping, unprotected sex, couch sex, riding, groping

You were just having a bad night, driving back home after a stressful family dinner only to have your car’s tire pop, leaving you in the middle of nowhere. You called the roadside assistance hotline and they told you that ‘the quickest they could get to you was in two hours.’ So you sighed, sitting in your car, mindlessly scrolling through social media to ignore that you were stranded, the woods being your only company.

Then there was a knock on your window, turning your head to see him. He was handsome, tall, with narrow golden eyes, and dark brunette middle-parted hair. But his clothes were too casual to seem like he worked for the emergency hotline.

You slowly rolled your window down, “Hello? Do you need something?” You asked.

“ No-no, I ain't like that, princess. I was driving home and saw ya parked here. I figured something must be wrong since we’re out in the middle of nowhere. I mean- unless you got some business with the woods, something must be up, right?” he responded.

“ Yeah, I just have a flat tire. Now I’m just waiting for the emergency company to send someone to replace it” you answered.

“ Ain’t that gonna take a while? Reckon they don't get many workers this late at night. Plus, we’re a long way from civilization... But I could fix it for ya instead" he suggested.

“Are you sure? I mean- I don’t want to waste your time” you responded. “C’mon now, I can’t let a sweet girl like you out here. Dangerous at night, ain’t it?” he laughed, waving off your concerns. “Alright then I'll take you up on that offer” you agreed, mostly giving in because you couldn't stand waiting any longer.

“I’m gonna need some help- so you gotta get out of that car seat and get ya hands dirty for me, princess” he added, lips curling into a smile as he tapped your locked car’s door.

“Of course- just give me a moment to get out” you uttered, watching the stranger nod his head. As the stranger in front of you went to retrieve a spare tire in his trunk, you quickly slid the pepper spray from your glovebox into your back pocket because

He was a stranger after all.

“Alright, princess let’s get this tire changed” the man called out for you, causing you to step out of the safety of your car.

He rested the replacement wheel on the side of your vehicle, “do you know how to change a tire?” he asked, squatting down to get a better look at the flat.

“I barely passed my driver's test- so not really” you commented, causing the man to snicker. “It ain’t too hard, just gotta raise the car a lil bit first- ah fuck” he cursed, looking around him. “What’s wrong?” you asked, worried by his sudden change of tone. “Just forgot to bring out the jack. It’s in my trunk, get it f’me really quick, can't lift the car without it” he sighed, pushing back his dark hair in disappointment.

“Sure, I’ll be right back” you agreed, turning around to walk to his car. You approached the trunk of his black vehicle, struggling to open it as if it was jammed or locked.

Then you hear a twig snap from behind you, instantly you turn your back, seeing the same friendly stranger, his arms raised above his head, hands gripping onto a dagger heading towards you, his pupils dilated. He didn't seem excited, scared, or sad. No, all of his friendly attitude morphed into something blank, something inhumane.

It was reflex.

You pulled out your pepper spray and misted his eyes with the eye-watering contraption. He’s on the ground, hissing in pain, fingers digging into the road. You’re running back into your car, only to realize you left your car keys inside. But you don’t have time to curse at yourself for the stupid mistake, not when he’s seconds away from recovering.

So you’re dashing into the forest, into the darkness.

Branches are scratching your face as you frantically run into the forest, heart beating out of your chest, hearing his quick footsteps and his laughter- fuck- his laughter sounds almost animalistic like a fox's cackling. Due to the rush of adrenaline, it feels like you and him are the only objects in motion, everything else just seems blurry.

You don’t know where you’re running to. All you know is that if you stop he’ll catch you. You don’t even know who he is.

It was already too late when you finally noticed the steep ditch in front of you, tripping over your own feet as you fell head in, the immediate painful impact causing your world to collapse into darkness, eyes closing as you felt the warmth of your blood drip down your forehead.

“You should really learn to watch where you step, princess.”

—

You’re surprised you woke up, knowing there was a serial killer behind you, you thought you’d be a goner.

You knew it wasn’t a simple nightmare when you noticed the bandages around your arms and how you weren't in your bedroom. You try getting up but you hit with an intense feeling of soreness that forces you to fall back into bed.

Unable to physically get up, you take the time to visually examine yourself and the unfamiliar environment around you. Judging by your fresh pair of clothing and the neatness of the bedroom, you figured you were saved by the road assistance employee who was assigned to change your tire. But it doesn’t matter who saved you; you’re just happy you’re alive.

Hearing the bedroom’s door creak open, you promised yourself you’d thank your savior who walked through the door.

But it’s not a savior- no, it’s the devil- it’s him.

This time he’s not wearing a classic grey hoodie. It's something that just screams wealth, a neat black button-down followed by khaki dress pants tied with a belt.

You don’t know why. But you’re first instinct is to play dumb- play dumb so that he might believe you’re no longer a threat. If he thinks you don’t remember the crime he committed, he’ll believe there’s no way you’d report him to the police

“ What happened to me?” You uttered, rubbing your bandaged forehead.

“ You don’t remember hitting your head? ” he asked, eyebrows raising in curiosity. He pulled a swivel chair out from the desk in the room, planted it in front of your bed, and then sat in it, arms crossed, awaiting your response.

“I-I don’t remember anything” you gulped, hoping he didn’t catch your bluff. “Anything? Really? Not even your name?” he hums, eyes narrowing in curiosity.

“ I don’t remember my name... I don’t know who you are either” you added, averting your eyes from his unwavering stare, anxious with how close he was to you.

He takes a moment to process what you have just said. Then his lips curl into a smile, clearly indicating that he's figured out what you were implying.

“It looks like you have a case of amnesia from hitting your head too hard. Don’t worry, darling. As your fiancé, I’ll gladly help you recover” he says, sweetly as he leans forward, placing his cold palm on top of your hand, tilting his head slightly to emphasize the caring gesture.

Did he just say, fiancé? Fuck- fuck, you're screwed.

But if you expose the truth, you’d be exposing your lie. He won’t hesitate to kill you if he knows you’re faking it.

“F-fiancé?” You stuttered in disbelief. “My name is Rinatoru Suna. Yours is Y/n L/n. But you’ll be having my last name soon enough,” he chuckles before leaning back on his chair, the wheels causing him to push away from the bed. You have to remind yourself to keep calm.

“ Where are we” you interrogated, trying to keep your tone as gentle as possible to not raise suspicion.

“ At our summer house, away from everyone and everything. It was supposed to be a nice vacation but then you went and hurt your head trying to get firewood late at night. Luckily, I found you unconscious in a ditch- figured you must have tripped over something in the darkness and hit your head” Suna stated, body language so calm that if you didn’t know any better you’d actually believe him. A serial killer and a pathological liar, that’s a deadly combination. 

“ Could I get my phone? I'd like to text my parents that I’m okay.” You asked even though you expected your request to be denied.

But to your surprise he smiled as he got up from his chair, “Of course, sweetheart ” he replied, walking over to the desk, sliding open a hidden cabinet attached to the table.

He uses two of his fingers to hold up a clear ziplock bag that carries a painfully cracked phone. “You can have it back but I doubt it’ll be any use, probably would cut your pretty fingers if you touch the screen” Suna commented.

You couldn’t hide your disappointment as you showed a frown. Suna clicked his tongue as he walked back over, lifting your chin with his fingers, “Don’t look so sad, sweetheart. Even if your phone wasn’t broken, the service in this area is horrible. But that’s why you picked it though. Since you claim I’m so ‘addicted to the damn phone” he teased, swiping his thumb on your lower lip, acting as if you were an average loving couple.

“Are you still in any pain” he mumbled, tone soft as he kept his fingers holding your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes.

“I'm still sore...thank you for taking care of me, Suna” you responded, a pit of shame growing in your stomach as you realized you ‘thanked’ a serial killer.

“ Rin. You call me Rin” he advised, tone still soft as he gazed at your features with admiration,

“ T-thank you for taking care of me, Rin” you corrected, voice too scared to talk any louder.

“Of course. What else are fiancés for?” He replied.

—

All your pent-up fear bursts the second Suna leaves the room to prepare dinner. You’re trying to be as silent as possible as you’re clenching your chest, panic attacking causing your heart to race.

Why is he doing this to you? Why hasn’t he killed you yet? 

You can’t spend your time pondering these questions; you need to leave. You get out of bed slowly so you don't instantly fall back down, limping towards the wide window before parting its white curtains, revealing acres of forest, not a single neighbor, or person in sight. You and him are alone in this modern mansion, surrounded by the woods.

But not all hope is lost; you see his car parked outside the house. All you need to do is use the vehicle to escape. You plan to leave tonight before he gets bored of playing ‘house.’ You’ll steal his car keys when he’s asleep and then drive back to civilization.

—

Suna sits you down carefully at the dining table, treating you as if you were glass. He puts out two plates of steaks with a side of mashed potatoes.

“I hope you don’t mind steak. As a professional volleyball player, I require a lot of protein to keep up the physique” Suna chuckled, taking a seat across from you, his palm holding his face as his eyes admired your appearance.

“You play professionally?” you asked.

“Of course, how else would we afford this summer house? Y’know, volleyball is the reason we met. In high school, you walked into the gymnasium in the middle of practice and got a volleyball straight to the face. The twins were too busy arguing whose fault it was that you got hit, so my captain at the time, Kita, made me walk you to the nurse’s office. The rest is history” Suna recited. The way he spoke, so casually, not a single stutter just made his words feel so real. The story sounds like a classic rom-com movie, so sickly cute that you almost wished it was real.

“Being escorted out from a volleyball to the face, how romantic” you teased, trying to make yourself sound more relaxed. “If it makes you feel any better, they still feel bad about it to this day,” Suna snickered, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You’re still friends with them?” you questioned.

“You mean we’re still friends with them. Unfortunately, yes. They’ll probably be one of my groomsmen at our wedding” Suna corrected. “C-could I meet them later?” You asked, hoping that the so-called twins could be your potential saviors.

There was a pause in Suna’s actions, he slowly switched his view off of his plate to look at you.

“Sure, I suppose that wouldn’t be an issue” he responded, a fake smile on his lips.

“Y’know, you haven’t touched your food yet. Protein is important for recovery” Suna added.

Your hand is trembling from fear as you attempt to cut the thick pan-seared steak in front of you. You want to curse at yourself for showing fear but how could you not? You’re sharing dinner with a serial killer- who knows, maybe you’re next on the menu.

“Y/n. Let me do that for you” Suna interrupted. Judging by his still-happy demeanor, he’s blaming your trembling on your body’s recovery.

You feel sick.

You feel sick because the same hands that tried to kill you are now feeding you and all you can do is gladly accept, putting on a fake smile with every bite.

The rest of the dinner was mainly peaceful, mostly him reciting fake memories of your ‘dating’ years with him. You can’t help but laugh at some of them, especially the one where he heard you scream in the middle of the night so he rushed out of bed, to the living room, expecting a robber but instead he saw you on the couch, pointing to a defenseless spider.

A shameful part of you wishes these stories were real because, besides the psychotic part of Suna, he seems like the ideal partner, wealthy, intelligent, calm, attractive. 

Once dinner is over, Suna leads you back to your bedroom, he offers to help you fit into your nightgown, claiming ‘it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.’ You make it very clear that you could do it yourself, making Suna turn his back as you change. However, as you let out a noticeable hiss caused by the unbearable ache from bending your sore arm to attempt to pull off your shirt, Suna steps in to help you.

“Don’t be embarrassed, this is normal things couples do” he commented, making you sit down on the edge of your bed, his fingers hooking under the hem of your shorts, pulling them off of your ankles. Then his fingertips are trailing up your thigh, under your shirt, lifting it above your head, leaving your bare chest naked to his eyes. The room was silent yet millions of thoughts were loud in your head. Suna clicked his tongue at the view of your naked chest, his hand came up to grope at your breast, his breath hitching at the softness.

“R-Rin, stop that” you stuttered, as you watched his hand trail off your breast to the center of your chest, palm laying flat. “I can feel your heartbeat right now. It’s running so… quickly” Suna mumbled, before replacing his palm with the side of his face, his ear pressed against your chest, closing his eyes as he concentrated on the sound of your heart beating.

You’re holding your breath, you feel paralyzed with fear of having such a dangerous man so close to your skin. Suna sighed as he pulled away, smile on his lips, his palm holding your cheek, “Sorry. I got caught away, didn’t I? You’re so just cute, I couldn't help myself” he apologized, thumb swiping on your bottom lip. “I-it’s okay” You stuttered, glad the experience was over.

After he dresses you in your nightgown, he helps you lay into bed, ensuring you’re completely comfortable. As you expect him to leave the room, he simply takes off his shirt, revealing his toned back,

“Rintarou, what are you doing” you gasp, using his full name to add more emphasis, averting your eyes, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “What? We always sleep next to each other” Suna replied. “I just don’t think I’m ready for that. I’m still trying to adjust to this life that I have no memories of” you confessed, feeling uncomfortable sleeping next to a man you barely know- especially when the man tried to kill you. Suna sighed as he walked over to you, tilting your chin up with one finger.

“You’re making me really making me regret being so careless with you that night” Suna commented, eyes narrowing in annoyance. “W-what do you mean?” you asked, thinking that he’s finally caught onto your lie.

“The night you got hurt. I really should have been the one collecting the firewood” Suna added, releasing your chin, stepping back, an innocent smile curled on his lips.

He walks towards the door, and before leaving he looks back at you, “I’ll just sleep on the couch tonight” he suggested, rubbing his nape. “Why not just sleep in the guestroom?” you offered.

“After catching Atsumu hooking up with a random chick in that guestroom- I swore off of touching that mattress” Suna responded, rolling his eyes at the fake scenario in his mind. “I’m sorry- I’m sorry you have to sleep on the couch because of me” you apologized, not really understanding why a feeling of guilt is forming in your stomach because you seriously can’t be feeling bad for a serial killer.

“Don’t be. Just sleep well tonight. Goodnight, sweetheart” Suna replied sweetly, turning off the lights in your room as he left.

A part of you wonders if the story of Atsumu was true. Or perhaps he’s sleeping on the couch because it’s close to the front door, the safest exit to escape from him.

You won’t lie; it's somewhat disheartening knowing that he’d be guarding near the exit. But as long as you don't wake him up, it shouldn’t be too hard, right?

You must have stared at the ceiling for two hours, praying, strategizing, and overthinking about your current situation. You tilted your head to look at your nightstand, the digital clock reading ‘2:00 am.’

He must be asleep by now.

You curse at yourself for stumbling out of bed, almost knocking over the clock on your nightstand. Then you limp down the hall, leaning on the wall for support, hoping you’re not making too much noise.

You slowly make your way down the stairs, a lingering creaking sound following every step causes you to cringe. There he was, sleeping peacefully on the white sofa, sleeping only in grey sweatpants, closed eyes emphasizing his envious long lashes. You tiptoe towards the key rack on, searching for his car keys.

It's not there. 

You click your tongue, wondering where they could be until you notice an imprint in his pants pocket.

Fuck- fuck.

He’s either forgotten to take them out of his pants or slept with them on purpose. But it doesn’t matter because you know you have to fish them out of his pants while not disturbing his slumber. You slowly approach him, leaning over, holding your breath as you hover above his waist. Your hand carefully moves towards his pants pockets until you feel a palm on the back of your head. You swore, your heart stopped at the feeling, fear flushing into your body. Then you’re head is pushed against his crotch, cheek coming into contact with the imprint of his bulge.

“Such a good girl” Suna murmured in his sleep.

“Such a good girl for me, Y/n” he added, drowsy hands brushing through your hair, his hips slightly lifting, pressing himself against your face.

“R-Rin” you yelped, pulling away, his hand dropping to his side. Suna’s eyes are slowly opening, “fuck- sorry baby, it’s a force of habit” Suna huffed, sitting up, eyes slowly focusing on his settings. You felt yourself slowly relax as you got out of that uncomfortable state.

“What are you doing here?” Suna questioned. “I-” you stuttered trying to form a believable lie.

Suna hummed, tilting his head as his eyes narrowed on you.

“Don’t worry, I got it. You can’t sleep with me, right?” Suna answered for you, a lazy smile on his lips.

“ Rin, I should go” you commented, trying to leave only for him to lean over and grab your wrist.

“Can I confess something to you, sweetheart, I haven’t been honest lately” Suna uttered, his hand drifting up your arm.

This is it, he’s bored of playing the fiancé role,

“ I missed you s’much during the time you were unconscious. Ya were asleep for three days but you still looked so fucking cute. I couldn’t help but get hard from looking at you. I had to jerk off right there at the sight of you. Fuck- how could I not? You were all defenseless, all cute, all mine.” Suna revealed, your cheeks boiled from the lewd comment, you could only stutter his name in response.

“ You’re not mad at me for it, right? You can't be. You’re too nice to be mad at me” Suna teased. “Y-yeah, I’m not mad at you, Rin” you answered, hoping he’d let you leave.

“Prove it then. Prove you forgive me. Prove you still love me, baby” Suna replied. “How do I do that,” you asked. You watched as Suna straightened his back against the sofa’s frame, his eyes glancing at you and then at his lap, signaling you to sit on it.

Your hands are shaking as you grab the cushions, positioning yourself above his lap, hovering over his waist, only for his hands to grip your waist, pulling you flush against his bulge.

“That’s better. That’s s’much better” he huffed.

“Rin, this is embarrassing “ you responded, tilting your head away to hide from his intimidating gaze. “Don’t be shy. This ain’t anything we haven’t done before” Suna hushed, leaning over, kissing the skin of your exposed collarbone.

“But it doesn’t matter how much we've done it- I can never have enough of you” Suna added, his teeth digging into your skin, causing you to yelp, only to be replaced by the cooling feeling of his tongue brushing against the mark.

Then he’s slowly moving your hips so you’re grinding against his clothed cock, feeling the hardness through his sweatpants.

“ Ya feel that baby? So fucking hard because do you. You know how bad I wanted to bend you over on the hood of your car?” Suna teased, smirking against your neck.

“M-my car?” You questioned his words, only for the thought to be forgotten by the buck of his hips causing a gasp to erupt from your mouth.

“ Y’know, I can feel your wet pussy soaking my sweatpants. Messy girl, staining my clothes. What should I do with you?” Suna asked, keeping your hips pressed against his, covered clit coming into contact with the hardness of his erection.

“ Rin, I-“ you whined, finding it hard to form proper words, too overwhelmed by pleasure. “ Don’t worry, sweet girl m’gonna take good care of ya” Suna hushed, hovering you over his waist so he could pull his clothes down just enough to get his cock out of his sweatpants.

He didn’t bother taking your panties off, simply pushing them to the side as the tip of his cock sunk into you. You’re embarrassed how you’re already shaking from the tip, hands holding onto his shoulders, jaw clenching.

“ I can’t- I can’t do this, Rin” you whimpered, only for his hand to grip your waist, forcing you deeper down his cock.

“Course you can. You were made for me and I was made for you” he chuckled. His hands are making you bounce on his cock, each thrust making him hit deeper inside of you, he’s biting his tongue at the feeling of your tight pussy warming his cock.

“You like that, baby? Ya like my cock stretching your cunt?” Suna grinned. As you tilt your head to release a moan, Suna leans his head over, kissing-sucking- biting the soft skin of your neck.

“Rin- slow down” you huff, hands aiming to hold his shoulders, hoping that holding something down would make it more difficult for him to bounce you on his cock.

Suna clicked his tongue, tilting his head as he looked up at you, admiring your appearance because fuck- you look divine, all flustered because of his cock, moonlight seeping through the window highlighting your physique, once-clear skin now littered with imprints of his teeth.

“You’re so cute, y’know that, right?” he teased, flipping you onto your back, hovering above you, his hand trailing down your waist.

“I think I know an old habit we used to do that might help you recover some old memories” Suna uttered.

“What are you going to do?” you asked, voice slightly trembling. Suna sat up straight giving you an innocent smile, “ can’t tell ya, you just have to trust me” he cooed.

You watched as he got up from the couch, whistling as he went to the coat rack by the front door. Then he stuffed his hands into his jacket’s pocket, his whistling stopped the second he felt for the desired object.

It was hard to see what he was holding due to the lack of light, all you knew was that it was small. You sat up against the couch, back leaning on the couch’s arm“ What’s in your hand?” you asked. “I’ll tell ya but you got to promise you won’t freak out” Suna replied, sitting down at the edge of the couch, pulling your ankle towards him, causing you to lay back down.

“I promise I won’t freak out” you responded skeptically.

Then you saw it, a switchblade, the sharp knife pointing out, metal being shined upon the moonlight,

You’re instantly getting flashbacks of him holding that dagger above your head, his vicious eyes looking down at you as if you were his prey. In some sense, you were and still are his prey.

“ Rin, I think that’s too much for me” You commented, squirming away from him only for him to push you down with his hand pressing against your stomach.

“ We used to do this all the time. I’m not actually gonna hurt you, sweetheart” Suna remarked.

“ I- I don’t think I really want to” you stuttered, eyes glued on the blade, fearing that he’d just stab you without warning, cutting you up until you were dead.

“C’mon, Y/n, this might restore some lost memories. You do want to remember our life together, don’t you?” Suna questioned. He’s putting you into a corner where you’re forced to agree because disagreeing would bring up suspicion.

Suna knows you’re too smart to say no because a woman with actual amnesia would try anything to get their memories back.

He takes your silences as an agreement, sliding the knife from the neckline of your nightgown to the hem, effectively cutting the fabric.

He finishes the job by tearing the fabric apart with his hands, a lingering ripping sound followed as the once expensive nightgown is now pieces of rag.

“Don't pout, I’ll buy you a new one, pretty girl” Suna replied, tongue rolling over his front teeth as he admired the sight of your bare breast. “T-that’s not what I’m worried about,” you remarked, voice stuttering, trying your best not to look at the blade in his hand.

“Y’know, it’s custom made, one-of-a-kind switchblade” he confessed, tracing the tip of the knife across your collarbone, the blade was pressed down lightly, not breaking the skin.

“Look at it, sweetheart. Isn’t it pretty?” Suna asked. You tilt your head enough to look at the blade's cutting edge, black leather handle, clean sharp sliver metal, and subtle rose imprint stemming from the heel to the tip.

A part of you wonders if this was the same weapon he tried to kill you with.

Another part of you wonders if this will be the weapon that he will use to finish the job.

He glides the blade down from your clavicle to your inner thigh.

“Such a pretty girl- such a pretty pussy.”

His pressure with the blade is light yet you could still feel it move against your skin, never spilling blood. You felt him spell his name on your thigh, you wondered what was holding him back from actually craving it out.

A stinging pain coursed through your inner thigh as you heard Suna curse under his breath. You looked down between your legs, the cut was minor- more like a nick really, but blood was still dripping off of it.

Suna’s tongue dipped out of his lips, licking up the spilled blood on your thigh, before kissing the skin around it as a form of a sick apology.

He doesn’t raise his head from between your thighs, instead, his tongue is pressed flat against your panties, you gasp at how the warmness of his tongue is still felt through the thin fabric.

He’s chuckling at your reaction, switchblade completely disregarded as his fingers curl under your panties, sliding them down.

“ Pretty- every fucking piece of you is so god damn pretty,” he commented, leading your leg to rest comfortably on his shoulder, cock heavy in his hand as he pressed the leaking tip onto your throbbing clit.

He pushes into you again, the overwhelming familiar stretch of his cock sinking into your tight pussy causing you to tilt your head, a moan coming from your lip.

That’s when you feel it, the cold metal of the knife pressed against your neck, not cutting or slicing the skin, just simply placed there as if it were a threat. Your eyes focus back on Suna, terrified that this is your final moment.

But it’s not.

He’s thrusting into your pussy like he’s addicted to the feeling of your warmth wrapping his cock. Suna doesn’t have the same expression he had when he was moments away from killing you.

The one he’s wearing is excited, blush across his cheek, tongue flickering over his teeth, dark pupil dilated. And he fucking is.

The sight of your body bouncing with each thrust of his hips caused the skin of your neck to press slightly deeper into the blade.

“Can’t tell if ya scared or excited because this pussy just keeps getting tighter every time your neck gets closer to cutting open” he huffed. Then he leans over, bringing your leg closer to your chest, tilting his head towards your ear, he parts his lips and utters the words

“Maybe you’re a little bit of both, princess.”

‘Princess’ he hasn’t called you that since this whole charade started, the last words you heard before you woke up to this lie. Yet the endearing name is sending you to the edge, shameless moan so loud that you’re grateful your closet neighbor is miles away. Suna hisses at the feeling of your pussy squeezing his cock as you trembled from your orgasm. He’s still thrusting into your cunt, chasing his own release, his chest heaving.

Suna has to fight back the urge to cum in your twitching hole, he praises himself for managing to pull out, spilling his cum on your stomach. Then he drops the knife on the ground, leaning over again and for the first time that night, he kisses your lips, kisses you like a husband would kiss his wife, so sweetly.

He gets up and gathers napkins in the kitchen then carefully wipes the mess he left on your stomach by this time you’re exhausted, you just let him handle you as you try to process what just occurred.

He looks down at you, his fingers grazing your cheeks, “can’t let you sleep here, sweetheart- won’t be good for your back” he mumbled to you, his voice soft. Then he’s lifting you, holding you in a bridal style, going up the stairs, making his way to your bedroom, softly placing you on the mattress.

He’s climbing into bed next to you, pulling you close towards him so your back is on his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist, chin tucked on your shoulder.

Your arms were sprawled out on the bed and you couldn’t help but notice your ringless finger, reminding you

that both you and Suna are liars.

[the-firebird69]

Golf girl does Impressive trick shot

It's not your character oh you mean the girl is not your character

Zues haha Hera

I'm done saying the hurtful stuff okay and yeah I know they're kind of really decrepited gross unless you're saying it was quick but really this is horrible and you're okay but I am tired of it and you're tired of it but we're going to persevere and you heard what they said it kind of blockaded and I get that and they're blocking the secondaries too and I understand that actually makes me feel a lot better and we can some heavy in there in case you know that makes me feel better too and you can I can talk to him I need to

Hera

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Frankie lupena

We actually want to see this this is so dull it hurts you need to stop fighting each other the crap everybody wants to is disgusting how much a f***

Trump

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Thor Freya

We're going to use wide tires they like them but you're right they have trouble putting them on or something they know how to do it and they'll have to take pride in it and having speed and we need it now this is dull full of dimly it's doing stupid things are following it it's gross

Bitol and Goddess Wife

You know he's using it as cover and people are taking the wrong way and have to straighten you out every day and I'm starting to get mad but the stuff is not that hard and we're getting there we're making huge progress I don't want to see it fail like the Mac crew when this is easy and we need to hire all of our people and he says it's my people that I hire so I'm going to go ahead and do it I'm sick and tired of graping to him the prisoner and he's told us we got to get going on it but we're in trouble and Thor and Freya have said it so he's going to get zigzag out there and have her give him some input on what it's like for people here and now the human touch do we need it

Lobo and Proxima midnight

It's going to help me and you know it will I need this real bad your attention you giving it to me a lot of times you just hug me and hold me and it works but now you're far away this will help and say we'll get a camper someday we have to make money at doing something and doesn't look like that's going to happen anytime soon and you're right it's starting to really suck are you going to heal soon you might get this car going which would it would help our people are very very motivated if that happens and they need to be helped too and motivated so we're going to try it

Hera

That's the spirit good I'm ready to do this and we're going to meet with the group and see if they'll approve it and I'd like to get going on it and they're going to submit a program and then a test period and everything and they say good and I know how to do all of it that's true too

Lobo and Proxima Midnight

We're going to have a huge team down there doing it I think it's the right thing to do we can't get it going here these people are bums the whole place is shut down there in LA they don't want to do anything not even soap it's gross

Frank Castle hardcastle

Olympus

[twistedcherry206]

think about how you react to kids mistakes. Some reactions have consequences.

I really thought I would never get my driving license.

I waited longer than most people to get mine. I was always so afraid of doing something to my parents vehicles that it would send me into panic attack when driving with them or their vehicles. Plus the social anxiety I felt in drivers ed made it rough for me to get a license. I passed drivers ed when I was 15, but had big anxiety about the driving road test. funny enough thanks to my ex for basically reteaching me to drive in his car and what would become my car when I bought it from my mom. Road tripping through our state certainly helped. He was a teacher too, so that helped I’m sure!! I did teach myself to parallel park better than my mom. I watched a YouTube video. And then practiced in my yard haha. I was so panicky during the test though I effed it up. I cried from the stress. I had to pass this test so I could drive to work. Thankfully I got the dude, I heard he was easier. I feel he kind of offered me advice at times, and I didn’t do anything that was a major offense so I passed! I told myself for so long that I was never going to get it. I’d given up all hope. I let myself be OK not having one because the panic attacks were too much. Proud of me for doing it at 22 to though.

When I was nine I asked my mom to drive up the drive way like my older cousin did at my grandparents. But there was a garage at the end of my driveway and I didn’t understand the difference between the gas pedal and the break. how could I be moving forward while I was on the break?? My little brain didn’t understand that I was already on the break so when my Mom said break I switched to the gas🤦‍♀️ I definitely put a hole in the garage wall. it was just drywall. There was a little workshop area behind with cabinets so it didn’t lead outside. My mom just moved some plywood over it and we abandoned my brother’s wagon that I ruined at my aunts. It says something that my mom wouldn’t tell my dad. I remember after it happened that I wouldn’t come out from under my blankets. I was so nervous about what he was going to do. my mom finally said if he ever found out she’d say shedid it. And so she did when he did find the hole. He belied her. He said that she must have been distracted. My mom took the brunt of that anger for me. That was why part of me was so terrified to drive. I’d seen how he’d react to smaller mistakes. Like when I accidentally burnt the fishing line on the heater while ice fishing. it’s my first memory of wanting to die. I was five years old. the way he screamed at me. This is how he reacted to any mistakes I made growing up. Big over reactions to mistakes that every kids make. So I did my best to hide any mistakes I made from him. My mom even knew it was better to keep things from him. It wasn’t worth his anger. Most of the back stories over I promise. There’s still a little more to go. This next part was a while ago, but it’s relevant to the now. 

It was my first year of teaching and my first year of driving. Actually, I’d only had my license for three months at the most.

I had to go to the bathroom so bad when I got to work that in my rush, I locked my keys in my car. I didn’t realize until the end of the day when I was the last one at the school on a Friday night.

Locking your keys in your car is it the end of the world? Nope. Did my dad make it the end of the world? Yes. Should it have mattered to him since it was my name on the title and I’d be the one paying to unlock it? Nope.

He screamed and berated me in front of my boyfriend at the time visiting and his parents visiting. He called me names. Never physically touched me, but he still left his mark. I got to do the physically hitting to myself latter when I was a trigged.

You’d think I would have been desensitized to him by then. I wasn’t. I’m probably still not.

My boyfriend was so upset for me, he was ready to drive the 4 hours back and take me with him. Instead we drove around town while I cried.

This is the part I’m ashamed of. The hitting myself. Screaming the same way as he did and calling myself the same names he called me.

I’d lost my wallet you see. I was so sure I had it in my purse that had been sitting on the table. I hadn’t even brought it to work with me. I called the last store I used it at. It’d been a few days before I noticed. they didn’t have it. I checked my accounts. Nothing was out of the ordinary. I canceled everything. I ordered new things and got some cash out to pay for a new ID. I was taking things pretty well. I wasn’t panicking. I knew what to do. I had done everything, I was doing the right things. So I felt calm. My mom was taking me to the secretary of state to get my ID. I am such a rule follower that I felt like I couldn’t drive myself without one. Just kidding it’s not that I’m a rule follower. I just don’t want to be yelled at. Because I break plenty of rules as long as I know I won’t run into the risk of being yelled at or at least stand little risk of it. My dad called while we were on our way. He watched my mom’s location. which kind of bothers me, but I’m not gonna go into that right now. He saw that she was at my house and was worried about me because I had recently done a little stay in a psych hospital. Ha. He was on speakerphone on my mom’s car when my mom told him. my heart dropped. His response was only “oh..” I didn’t know how to feel about that. After that was over I had a huge meltdown. Screaming and hitting myself. This was latter when I was home alone. It hurt a lot . I thought I’d healed past this stuff.

Yeah, as you can see now as a an adult anytime something happens my first response is always. It’s OK. I know it was an accident. Even when I do stuff on accident, I always have low reactions so that way my students know it’s OK when they have accidents like knocking things over. Or dropping paint somewhere. Things like that. Because I see kids yell at themselves and call themselves stupid too when they do small mistakes. And it makes me worried that something similar happens at home to them that did to me or what I don’t know.