#but if i have to watch him drive over double yellow lines

[dragonofthemountain]

after i finish watching Knight Rider all the way through part of me wants to rewatch it again just to count up all the traffic violations Michael makes because HOLY SHIT

[cumikering]

F1 John Price x reader

2.7k | fluff Price raced for Mclaren. You didn’t know that (part 2)

No human body was made for this: jetting across continents and time zones for nine months out of twelve.

Even after the years, John Price hadn’t got used to it. Neither was he used to flying from Las Vegas to London for a photoshoot only to hop on another plane the day after for his next race in Qatar.

He groaned internally, his body aching as he plopped down onto the backseat of the cab before taking his black surgical mask and cap off. He didn’t get a proper rest with how turbulent his flight was.

“Oh, I’ve seen ya mate!” the middle-aged driver exclaimed, eyeing him from the rear-view mirror. “You’re famous- you’re the F1 bloke, innit?”

John gave him a polite smile.

“Could you sign something of mine?” He popped open his glovebox. “Wait, this wouldn’t sell so high…” he muttered as he rummaged through it.

The cars behind started a cacophony of honks.

“Am in the way.” He chuckled sheepishly as he pulled away. “You better not run off before I find something!"

Downtown London was packed at the hour. The driver had plenty of time to look through every nook and cranny of his car, but cursing when he could only come up with a yellowing notepad and a drying pen. John made do.

“Could you also put your name down, please?” He held the pad over his shoulder after he’d inspected it. “So we know who you are.”

And he did, with another rehearsed smile.

“Cheers, mate.” With a pleased grin, he tossed the pad onto the passenger seat, not even bothering to make eye contact amidst the traffic.

At the red light around the corner of the magazine HQ, the taxi halted in front of a coffee shop. He glanced at his watch - he was 20 minutes early and he desperately needed caffeine.

John pulled his mask and cap back on before exiting the car. The cap was still stiff, one with a French flag patch he grabbed at random at the airport with a grumble. He’d misplaced the plain one he liked.

He kept his head down as he stood in the short queue.

“Hot Americano, double shot, please.”

His phone chimed when he waved it over the payment terminal. He was going to regret this. He wasn’t a big coffee drinker.

“Can I get a name for that?” You looked up from the cup you scribbled on.

“JP.”

You smiled, glancing at his cap and wrote his name down. “Like Jean Pierre?”

He chuckled, only now making eye contact with you. It was a joke between him and his teammate, Kyle, or Gaz as the fans called him. You must be one of those well-meaning people pretending to not recognise him, giving him a slice of normalcy.

He always appreciated the gesture, especially the more years passed. As glamorous as life had been since F1, John discovered he wasn’t about all the glitz and glam.

He didn’t care about looking immaculate all the time, scripted speech in designer clothing or driving expensive cars. Have you seen the state of London’s streets? Everything was PR, PR, PR - like this wasn’t even his life he was living anymore. He wanted to be home on his racing simulator or get the neighbourhood takeaway in his thick hoodies without anyone shoving a camera in his face. He just wanted his old, quiet life.

You worked the coffee machine, your back to him, and his gaze wondered to the pastry display as he leaned on the counter. The cookies were massive, thick in the middle, probably chewy too. They would be perfect with his coffee.

He glanced at the line which had grown longer, and at you at the register now, scribbling another customer’s order onto a cup with a smile. It was odd that no one else was in sight to help you at the busy time.

A quick peek at his watch: he didn’t have the time to queue again. He’d just have to come back later after his business.

“Enjoy.” You flashed him a smile as you placed his order on the counter.

It didn’t hurt that you were easy on the eyes.

Sure enough, hours later after a photoshoot and an interview, caffeine still buzzed in John’s veins. He could only imagine how long he’d be up later that night, but it was worth it. At least he didn’t look like a zombie in the footage.

His mask didn’t hold off the gust of wind - cold against his cheeks as he stepped out of the building. His stomach rumbled. While pubs had started to fill up with people in work attire, the lights were still on in your shop. He crossed the street only for the sign to read ‘closed’, the last couple exiting the door.

His shoulders sagged, but he pushed the door open anyway.

You looked up from the tablet you fumbled with, your smile apologetic. “Hiya, we’re closed. Sorry.”

He glanced at the display, empty safe for two remaining cookies. He pointed at them. “Hi, so sorry to bother, but I just wanted those, please. I didn’t get the chance earlier.”

Recognition flashed in your eyes. “Oh, I remember you. Jean-Pierre.”

“It’s me.” He laughed.

You slid the bag of two cookies across the counter. “On the house.”

“No, no. You’re doing me a favour already. Have one with me at least?”

You hummed. “Why not.”

At the nearest table, he had taken his cap and mask off. You set down a mug of milk.

“You’re spoiling me.” He chuckled, taking a bite of the cookie. “Oh my god, it’s spot on,” he groaned.

You smiled. “I’m glad you like it. It took me a while to come up with the perfect recipe.”

“I’d thought about this for hours and it doesn’t disappoint, but I bet it tastes even better warm.” His gaze couldn’t help but fall to your untouched cookie.

You laughed, pushing the paperbag across the table.

“I’m sorry, this is so, so shameless.” He gave you a sheepish grin. “But it’s wonderful, really. I’ll be back. Definitely.”

“You’re very welcome to.”

“Can I place an order? For my team. Three dozens for tomorrow morning, or is that a bit last minute?”

“Yeah, no, I can do that.” You smiled. “If I may ask, what do you do, JP? Sounds like a big team.”

He frowned. “I thought you knew?”

You tilted your head. “Sorry, I don’t think you told me?”

“Right.” He cleared his throat. Heat crept up his neck from the presumption. “I work with cars.”

“Like a mechanic?”

“Something like that.”

“Oh, that’s impressive. You must have steady hands.”

“I do, I suppose.” He held your gaze for a moment. “Oh, sorry, you were about to close. I’ll just finish this-“

You waved your hand. “Do take you time. I hadn’t had the chance to sit down.”

“Busy day?”

“Very. One of my girls is sick so I worked alone today.”

“I can stay a bit, if you don’t mind.” He smiled. “Actually, would you like dinner? I’m famished. I can get something for us?”

“That sounds fantastic.”

“I saw a kebab shop a block away. Are they stingy with their chips?”

“Of course not. They wouldn’t be my favourite otherwise.”

He dashed out the door with a grin.

When John returned with dinner, you called out from the kitchen as you put away the cookie dough you’d just prepped for his order.

“I make the dough at least 12 hours ahead. That way the flavours have a chance to mingle.” You sat across him.

“Is that why they’re so good?”

You shrugged, smiling, as you unwrapped your dinner.

“I’ll be back for this too.” He nodded approvingly at the kebab, bursting at the seams with chips.

“They’ve got great food around here.”

“All the more reason I’ll have to be back.”

You chatted over the meal, about the area and its hidden gems. He was convinced he didn’t even know half of the city even after living there for many years.

“Thanks for dinner, Jean-Pierre. You can go now if you want.” You put away the wrappings. “I don’t want to bore you with all the cleaning I’m going to be doing.”

“It’s John, and I can do the dishes.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“You said you were tired, and look how long I held you up.” He gestured at the dark sky outside.

You chuckled as you shook your head.

“Come on, let’s get to work,” he said over his shoulder as he sauntered to the kitchen.

You wiped down the counters and did the floor as John helped with the dishes, asking about you and your shop. While he didn’t like doing chores, doing them with you didn’t feel troublesome.

In fact, it was nice to spend some time out, not cooped up all alone in his apartment. It was refreshing to not be talking about racing or cars, to get away from it all. You laughed so heartily, so bright at his jokes. Within these four walls, maskless, he didn’t have to pretend.

He wore his mask as you locked up, but not before sliding in a few bills into the tip jar when you weren’t looking.

“So.” He turned to you, hands jammed in his pockets.

“I’m taking the bus.”

If he had his car he’d have offered to drive, but it was just as well he wasn’t driving. What if he wouldn’t want to leave?

So he walked you to the bus stop before calling a taxi for himself, back to his own reality.

While John was away for a Grand Prix weekend, between media day, qualifying and other preparations, he didn’t have the chance to be alone with his thoughts. However, as soon as he lay in his hotel bed that Sunday night, adrenaline still pumping in his blood from the race hours before, his mind drifted to you. He wondered what you were up to, if you’d thought about him since Wednesday morning when he picked up his order.

See, his problem wasn’t that he didn’t ask, but that he asked too easily and often came off too strong. He didn’t want that, especially not to you, someone the slightest bit more than an acquaintance now, a funny and pretty one at that.

But he should have asked for your number. He had so many chances to: during dinner, while walking you to the bus stop, or when he swung by the day after. You would have loved to know how everyone flocked to him when he walked into the room, oohing and aahing over your cookies.

He’d just have to wait until the next day.

Monday was his favourite day of the week because it was his day off, allowing him to not even leave his penthouse apartment if he so wished. But in the afternoon when he arrived back in London, he had somewhere else to be. On his way home from the factory, he took a detour, parking around the corner from your shop.

He wasn’t supposed to think so much about you, let alone miss you, but he did against his better judgement. He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face when you greeted him as he approached the counter.

“Hiya, what can I get you?”

“I’d like to place another order for tomorrow. Everyone loved your cookies.”

“Sure.” You smiled. “You know, you could just give us a ring, yeah?”

“Right, about that. I was wondering if you fancy dinner with me tonight?”

“Oh, I’ll have to prep for the cookies-“

Behind you, a young lady at the coffee machine quipped over her shoulder with a stifled smile. “I can handle that.”

You turned and mouthed ‘thank you’ to her. “Where to?”

“Anywhere you want. I’m driving.”

When you sent him to wait at a table with a cup of hot chocolate, his smile faltered. He didn’t think this through. He was driving his Mclaren. Shephard, the boss, made up this silly clause in the contract for him and Gaz to drive their own McLaren to and from the factory. Good for PR, he said.

 He hurried outside as he dialled.

“Kate? Kate, I’m at that coffee shop.”

There was a beat. “Okay?”

“Would you please drive my GTI over?”

“Why, did your car break?” She chuckled. “A towed Mclaren isn’t a good look. Shephard won’t be impr-”

“No, I need my GTI in-“ he glanced at his watch. ”Exactly 52 minutes.”

“What? John, I’m your manager, not your errand boy.”

“Please! I’ve got no time to explain, just do it.”

“Or what?” she said dryly.

“I’ll tell your wife in Qatar there was a lighter in your coat pocket which smelled an awful lot like smoke.”

There was a pause followed by a huff. “Fine. Text me the address.”

Kate rolled up in his Golf GTI in time for your shop to close. You picked a place not too far from your flat, and he was thankful it wasn’t packed. You sat at the table in the corner and kept his cap on.

It was evident you were less tired that night, more playful with your jokes. He could listen to your laugh and look into your eyes all day. But before it was too late, much to his chagrin, you called it a night.

He pulled up at your flat. “I promise no more last-minute orders.”

“Just give us a call next time.”

“Rather call you.”

John Sloane, he typed into your phone.

You smiled, sliding your phone back in your pocket. “See you soon, John.”

“Tomorrow. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You held his gaze for another moment before giving him a quick peck on the cheek. His heart soared, but before he could react, you’d shut the door behind you with a supressed smile.

He grinned to himself as he drove home.

“Gaz!” Soap bellowed at the door. “Sorry am late. My alarm didnae go off.” The engineer hurried to the table to see Kyle munching happily. “Och, did ye get more cookies, Cap? I’m starvin’.”

Everyone on the team wore a cap, but Price was the only one who couldn’t be caught without one, therefore the curious nickname. That, and he often swore up a storm on team radio, like a bossy sailor. Simon, his engineer, could only remain silent witnessing the outbursts like he wasn’t even there. He earned his moniker Ghost that way.

John chuckled. “Help yourself, mate.”

He popped open the box, groaning after a bite. “Aye, that’s the one.”

“You sure you don’t want one, Ghost?” Gaz teased as he grabbed his third cookie. “You’ve been staring.”

“Alright, just one.”

“Oh, that didn’t take a lot of convincing,” Soap quipped between bites.

Ghost gave him the side eye. “Would you rather I eat the whole box, Johnny?”

Soap pouted and took his seat next to Gaz, and the team meeting for the upcoming race commenced.

As always, the crew flew out on Thursday, but this time, he had you to text. And he did, between the press conferences and briefs, or work, as he simply told you. If he was home, he would ask you out again in a heartbeat. Texting couldn’t compare to seeing that smile in real life, but it would have to do for now.

Abu Dhabi was the last race of the season. He was very much looking forward to winter break, even more so this time, because for the first time in years, he had someone to come home to. Okay, maybe that was too generous a statement. There was someone he would very much want to see, to say the least.

John landed in London Monday evening, still thrumming from his P1 win and finishing second for the season. He went straight home to switch cars before picking you up at work for dinner with a giddy smile.

He had a few days to himself before leaving for Liverpool for Christmas, which hopefully meant one more time of seeing you, if you let him, that was. But when you gave him another peck on his cheek when he opened the car door for you, he decided it was impossible to stay away from you.

I’ve missed you too much.

Ex boyfriend Price Masterlist

@tiredmetalenthusiast @le16erc @keegansshark @kyletogaz @footyandformula

[sawdust-emperor]

I watched I Saw The TV Glow a second time, and I have a better idea of the meaning of the colors picked for the movie.

The first and most obvious is Pink - what's "real", what's material, what's joyful, what is wanted.

The second is Green - fear and shame.

Third is Blue - for melancholy.

Fourth is Yellow - although we barely see it, I think it represents halted change.

Maddy's basement, his sleeping bag, the glow of the TV when the show is on, Isabel's magic prom dress, the psychic link tattoo, the name of their show, the red room where the sign "safe to enter" hangs and he gets his tapes from Maddy, the first singer at the Double Lunch when they're together again, his sweater, it's all red and pink.

Owen's room, the aquarium once the TV is off, the grocery store after Owen's manager makes fun of him, the lawn he crosses holding his sleeping bag to visit Maddie, the football field they cross together to get to their real bodies, the general theme of 'suburbs' and their green grass, the hallway to get to the planetarium whare Tara is waiting for him, all green.

The planetarium, the movie theater, the fun center, the carnival, the high school on voting night, the TV flickering on Owen's dad's face, all blue.

Yellow, like flames, presumably Maddie diving into the TV like Owen would later, catching it on fire, but not fully leaving til years later. Owen, dumping water on the fire we see him narrating by, not making a change. Owen's bathroom is yellow after his dad rips his head out of the TV and forces him under the running water. The vests at the play place are yellow.

The combinations of colors and how they change in scenes send whole messages by themselves. So often Owen is split between his fear, the green, and his desire to be free, the pink. The points between these periods of joy and fear are often dull, and blue.

The first song that plays at Double Lunch (Claw Machine) conjures the imagery of a teen boy drifting between golf lawn and home lawn, digging holes in it, trying to find something real underneath, the same kind of lawn Owen crossed back and forth to sneak to Maddie's house, "The Suburbs". He carries pink things with him, rolled up, under his arm or on his back in this ocean of green. Their last time watching the show together onscreen, Owen is sat on the couch in front of the very green aquarium. The TV glows pink from ahead, and there is green cast behind him, but not Maddie. It's also the last time he wears the pink sweater.

The first episode of The Pink Opaque he gets to watch with her, we see a green ice cream truck engulfed in pink smoke, visualized on screen. He is having a realization, but he won't know it til later.

When Maddie finds him in the grocery store, the entire store is green, but she's in front of the meat section, which is pink, and holding a pink handkerchief. He runs to her, crossing a dull and depressing grocery store floor, lit in green.

His drive home, interrupted by a downed power line, is mostly blue, but there's a single red streetlight over the section of street he can't cross because of the downed trees. The season six premiere pamphlet is there.

In Double Lunch, while he's talking to her, things are red behind and in front of them, except for a small bit of green lighting behind Owen, and thanks to the way the camera moves during that section, that green slowly engulfs him as Maddie tries to tell him the truth. Maddie, Tara rather, is surrounded by red in that segment - she has what she wants, but she's afraid he won't come with her.

The inside of the freezer is green. The hearts are red.

The planetarium is mostly blue, punctuated by streaks of green and yellow crossing Tara's face as she talks, and the door, which is red, sits behind Owen. At this point, he tells her this isn't the Midnight Realm, it's just the suburbs, linked in with the song from before. It's not much better. They leave, and everything is green, because he realizes she's serious. He runs away, back to his green room. His dad is not on the green couch, flickering blue and white from the TV.

At the end, the movie theater is black and blue, but the door is highlighted by the light outside, and it's red, with a glowing red exit sign hanging above it, the only red that isn't on the movie screen's exit card. The Fun Center's backroom is blue and gloomy - Owen cuts open a box, struggling for air, and inside the box is yellow balls. After that, Owen's panic attack happens in a blue party room, and he stands under a light cycling between the three main colors until he screams, and then it sticks on green, the color of fear. His vest is yellow, the vest he puts back on after literally cutting himself open.

The actors do a phenomenal job, and the colors allow the set itself to show feelings and general sentiment in a really lovely way.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Don't Let It Go

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Teenage!Reader, Implied Destiel

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: angst, minor fluff at the end

Request by anon: Hey can i request, a one shot where the Winchester and Castiel find a girl (who is 16-17 years) in the middle of the street and they take her to the bunker and they wait to the girl (reader) to wake up and when she wake up , she tell that her is from other universe where she is Dean and Castiel daughter and she is angel/demon hybrid because she was born after Dean became a Demon and was raised by Sam? Something Fluff 

Summary: You got into a place you weren't supposed to go into and as a result, you got put in a different universe where everything is the same except your parents.

Square Filled: unconventional hybrids (2023) for @heavenandhellbingo

Author’s Note: i appreciate any and all comments! <3

x

Inside the Impala is quiet, silent except for the soft rock playing softly through the speakers. All three men have just come back from a grueling hunt and all they want is to go home, drink some alcohol, and sleep for a day. Sam wanted to stop to get some rest in a motel room before taking the long drive home but Dean had his head set on arriving home as soon as possible. He’s growing kind of tired, it’s pitch black on the road, and he’s passing the double yellow line too often for Sam’s liking.

“Do you want me to drive?”

“No, I got it,” Dean shakes his head to keep him awake.

He drives for a few more miles until he sees something in the middle of the road. It’s not until he comes within twenty feet of it does he see it’s a body.

“Dean, watch out!” Cas gasps.

Dean swerves the car right before he can hit the body, and he slams on his brakes a few yards away from it. All three men step out and run over to it to see who it could be. It’s a teenage girl who doesn’t look to have any injuries. Castiel kneels down and places two fingers on your forehead to check for internal injuries but everything checks out fine.

“She’s knocked out with no injuries. I don’t know who put her here.”

“We can’t just leave her here,” Sam says.

“Bring her with us. We can do more at the Bunker,” Dean decides.

Since there are no other people here to claim you, Sam scoops you into his arms and places you into the backseat of the Impala. When they arrive home, they place you in the infirmary. Castiel is able to do more extensive tests on you to check who you are, where you came from, and what you could possibly want.

“I know everyone on Earth but I don’t know her name.” He hovers his glowing hands over your entire body to get a feel of what you might be. “This is so weird. There is magic within her but not like witch magic, like angel magic.”

“She’s an angel?”

“Not fully. There is angel magic but not enough to be a full angel. I know all angels, and I don’t recognize her at all.”

“We have to wait for her to wake up… if she does,” Sam says.

It takes three more hours for you to wake up and when you do, you stare at the three men still inside the room. You’re in some kind of infirmary inside the Bunker but something is different. This doesn’t feel like the Bunker you know. For one, Sam is with Dean and Castiel and Sam hasn’t been on good terms with them for years now.

“Am I in trouble?” you sigh and sit up.

“What?”

“Come on. Lay it on me. Yell, scream, or do whatever you need to do.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean asks.

“Very funny, Dad. Just get it over with.”

“Dad? Who the hell are you?”

This isn’t your world. This isn’t your Bunker. This isn’t your dad. Dean and Castiel don’t recognize you at all.

“What planet am I on?”

“Earth…?”

“Why is everything different?”

“What happened to you?” Castiel asks.

“I was gathering ingredients in the garden for the spell I was creating, but I saw something gold shimmer. When I touched it, everything went black. I woke up here.”

“She must have touched a portal. She’s from another universe.”

“I’m in another universe? Oh, my dads are gonna kill me,” you groan and put your head in your hands.

“I’m your dad?” Dean asks. You nod. “Who else is?”

“Him,” you say and point to Castiel.

“We’re both your dads?”

“Yes.”

Castiel stiffens awkwardly, Dean looks at him with a weird look on his face, and Sam just laughs.

“So, Destiel is real, then?”

“Shut the hell up,” Dean snaps.

“What’s that magic inside of you? I don’t recognize it.”

“You wouldn’t. I come from a world where people are born from DNA testing in a lab. If a woman and a man want to have a baby, they get to choose the gender they want by the doctor pulling DNA strands from their bodies and making that baby in a lab. If two women want to have a child, then their baby must be a boy to counteract the X chromosomes. The same thing goes for two men. They must have a daughter. Well, strands were taken from Dean and Castiel to make me, but Dean is a demon and Castiel is an angel. I’m half-demon, half-angel.”

“You’re a Nephalem?”

“Is that what Jack is?” Dean asks.

“No, he’s a Nephilim which is only half-angel,” you explain. “I have the grace of an angel, the blood of a demon, and a human soul to counteract the two powers. I’m kind of a big deal in my universe. I’m the most powerful creature, but I kind of fucked up.”

“How so?” Sam asks.

“In my world, the forbidden Garden of Eden is a real place that people can visit. I am forbidden to go in there due to my demonic heritage. The Garden is sacred to angels only, so I kind of snuck in for the ingredients I need for my spell. That’s when I got caught in that portal. My dads are gonna kill me,” you groan. “They’ll slaughter anything to get to me, and when they find out I’m missing, there’s no telling what they’ll do. I have to get back.”

“We’ll be right back. Just stay here.”

All three men leave the infirmary to talk in the hallway.

“A daughter of Heaven and Hell is far more powerful than anything in the entire universe, surpassing God and Jack themselves. She’s not at full power because she’s a teenager, but she can destroy the universe with just a thought. If you two make her upset or stressed, her powers can go haywire,” Castiel warns.

“What the hell are we gonna do?” Sam asks.

“We have to create a portal back to her world and get her back as soon as possible so she doesn't destroy everything in ours.”

Dean peeks inside the room to see you with tears running down your cheeks.

“Why don’t you two get started on that? Let me talk to her alone.”

Dean walks into the room alone and approaches you slowly. You wipe your tears away when he sits next to you on the bed.

“I’m not sure how to do this,” Dean starts.

“I’m really sorry,” you sniffle. “I didn’t mean to break the rules.”

“Listen, I don’t know how ‘Other Me’ or ‘Other Cas’ deals with shit over there, but you’re a kid. You didn’t know any better.”

“I do, though. I have a choice to make when I turn eighteen. Choose to be with the angels or demons. If I choose to side with the angels then I’m an enemy of Hell. If I side with the demons, the angels will hunt me down and kill me. My dads made this perfectly clear and told me to stay out of Eden to prevent people from thinking I sided with the angels. They can be pretty scary. They don’t hit me or abuse me but if I don’t follow the rules, they’ll get scary. God, they’re gonna kill me.”

“If ‘Other Me’ is anything like me, he’ll forgive you. It can’t be easy being an angel and a demon.”

“It’s hard. I’m seventeen, so I have to make the choice in less than a year. I’m not ready. I don’t want to pick a side because that will start a war. Earth would become a fighting ground for demons and angels with me as one of their leaders. I would be forced away from one of my dads.”

“For a demon, you care a lot.”

“I might be a demon but I’m not evil. I have a human soul. I don’t want any of this,” you cry.

“Okay, listen to me. You’re certainly strong and capable of handling things for yourself, but if ‘Other Me’ loves you like you say he does, then he won’t ask you to choose. I don’t care if he is a demon or not. It’s going to be okay.”

You lean up and hug him, catching him off guard.

“Thank you.” He pats your back and you pull away from him. “You know, my dad used to have a soul before finding the First Blade. I’ve heard the stories but nothing compares to seeing him now with one. Your soul is a gift, Dean. Don’t let it go.”

“As long as you don’t let yours go.”

“I promise,” you smile.

“Then I promise, too. Come on, let’s work on getting you home.”

x

Follow my library blog​​​​​​ @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[trivialbob]

The rest of last weekend I spent in Chicago.

I went there to visit my college roommate, Ross. We've known each other since freshman year of college, back in the fall of 1984 -- 40 years of friendship!

Friday afternoon I drove to to the city. Normally I experience horrendous traffic there, pretty much after crossing from Wisconsin to Illinois. Someone smiled upon me this time, because the midday Friday traffic was smooth on the highways.

Things got aggressive on city streets. Twice I saw people driving over a double yellow line, directly at me, as they wanted to make a left turn without waiting for traffic.

GPS warns me of Chicago's red light and radar cameras. At times I wonder if Chicagoans don't have to pay tickets they get in the mail, because I thought I was going to get rear-ended simply for obeying the speed limit and stopping at red lights. No one with Land of Lincoln plates seems to worry about traffic tickets.

Ross had game tickets to a Blackhawks game Saturday night. The team did poorly, but I enjoyed hanging out with him and watching the game.

I like walking through his neighborhood and looking at houses. My own home in Minnesota has a fireplace made of Chicago Brick. After the Great Chicago Fire, bricks from destroyed buildings were re-used in new home construction. It would be fascinating to me if there was a way to find out what Chicago building my bricks came from.

The Lincoln Square business area is a favorite of mine. I had arrived in the city before Ross was done working for the week. So I made my usual tour of that area on foot.

There are plenty of restaurants and bars I'd like to try. Saturday morning Ross and his wife took me out for coffee at a neat little shop with an airplane theme. Check out that booth made from airline seats and aircraft aluminum. The trash bins were re-purposed airliner serving carts.

There was mushroom coffee on the menu. I'd heard of it before, but never tried it. So I ordered a cup of "Morning Mud" which is mushroom coffee and some sort of mushroom extract. It tasted earthy. I don't know that it made me healthier but the coffee had caffeine. I'd give it another try sometime.

Ross and his wife picked up the tab, so I also grabbed a can of seltzer, two croissants, and a large assortment of essential oil soaps that were for sale in the attached gift shop.

The coffee shop had two "unvested service dogs." One was quite comfortable sitting in customers' laps.

Throughout my stay Ross and I hung out, had martinis and pizza, talked politics and current events, and relaxed. I thoroughly enjoyed the visit.

[envihellbender]

David finding Felix after a relapse

Rating: Mature (themes)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Characters: David King, Felix Richter

Content: addiction, vomit, relapse, alcohol, drugs

Summary: David spends all night looking for Felix and finds him in a high class drug den.

—

“Come on Felix, answer,” David muttered in angry panic. When it went to voicemail, he hung up and rang again, with one hand on the steering wheel. He hadn’t heard from Felix in a couple of days. Maybe that wasn’t anything to worry about, but something in David’s gut said there was. So here he was, driving through Felix’s favourite haunts and friends’ houses trying to find him. Eventually Elodie was the one who gave him something useful - the address of a higher class of crack den is how she described it. David didn’t want to admit that Felix had fallen off the wagon, but he also wouldn’t have been surprised with how difficult things had been lately. Eventually, he made it there, he parked outside, not caring much that he was on double yellow lines.

David followed Elodie’s instructions: take the alleyway to the right, knock on the blue door three times, and when the door opens a crack repeat the following phrase: “They wanted Alaskan salmon for lunch.” A bit cryptic, but Elodie explained they changed it to another random sentence every six days. Thanks to that little show, he wandered the corridors of a badly lit, expensively furnished townhouse. In each room another form of debauchery was taking place. In the first, he recognised a Tory MP getting flogged by a leather daddy, in the second he saw two Arsenal players doing cocaine off of someone he was sure he’d seen on the news who was being a table at present. Eventually he found a handsome young man smoking by the foot of a staircase, he seemed to be more with it than anyone else.

“Hey, mate, you know a Felix Richter?” David asked, trying not to seem too intimidating.

“Mhm,” he said as he took another drag. “Who wants to know?”

“Oh erm, I’m… I’m-” David paused. When he and Felix had last spoke they had had some choice words that had started from David’s desire to stay closeted. They hadn’t split up, but he realised then as he felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment as he thought about admitting his love for Felix what the problem was. It was him. “I’m his boyfriend. David. I can’t find him anywhere, one of his friends said he’d be here.”

“Oh. I thought you’d be some muscle hired by his parents to drag him home.”

“I’m certainly some muscle, but not today.”

“Mm, I can see that.” The young man looked David up and down before he grinned. “His favourite room is two floors up, end of the corridor. There should be a chaise lounge, a comfortable bed, a mini bar, and television in there.”

“Thank you. Thank you thank you,” David repeated as he practically ran up the stairs. He didn’t bother to look at anyone else or poke his head round any other door, his sights were set on the end of the second floor corridor. When he got there, fully intending to barge his way in, he hesitated. If Felix was there … Well, he’d relapsed. And David hated the fact that in a few moments his fear would he confirmed. He swallowed and slowly opened the door.

Felix was laid horizontally across the large bed, his eyes were half lidded and his glass of wine had spilled all over his chest. His shirt was open, the red staining his bare skin and smattering of blond hair. There was an empty syringe on the floor that had dropped out of his hand. He was watching some old film on television, David could barely register it. He approached Felix slowly and sat next to him on the bed. He shuffled over, he saw that Felix had also had vomit over his shirt and the bed next to him. His trousers were undone, revealing his Ralph Loren underwear. David reached out to gently shake him, Felix let out a groan and shuffled away.

“Think it’s time we got you home, love,” he said gently. Felix spasmed and his exhausted, drugged eyes widened.

“David. David. No. You’re not supposed to be here. Not supposed to see…” Felix’s eyes grew heavy as he began to fall asleep again but David shook him.

“No, no love, come on. You’ve gotta stay awake.” He said gently. “What have you taken?”

“Just enough,” Felix muttered.

“Let’s get you-”

“David,” he interrupted, one limp weak hand attempting to press against David’s chest but just fell helplessly. “Just. Leave me. It’ll be easier if you just leave.”

“Not happening, Felix.”

“Well, I don’t want you to but- I’m… Not in a state to entertain right now.” His voice was an exhausted slurring mumble that David could barely understand, but he wasn’t giving up.

“Come on, up you get,” he said matter of factly, choosing not to engage with this discussion. He slipped one arm under Felix’s torso and pulled him upright. He swayed back and forth before he began vomitting all over his and David’s front. He turned Felix away so he threw up over the bed instead. “Come on, let it out, love,” he said. When Felix finished, David pulled him up onto his feet, when he could barely stand on his shaking, weak legs David pulled him into a bridal carry instead.

“Why are you doing this?” Felix slurred, his face burying in David’s chest.

“How much have you had, love?”

“Few ccs of mor… morph…”

“Morphine?”

“Yeah.”

“Anything else?”

“I… don’t know. Maybe.”

“Let’s get you washed and to bed, okay?” David said as he carried Felix down the stairs and out the front door. He got his car and thanked god he hadn’t got a ticket. He sat Felix down in the passenger seat, and took a deep breath as he dreaded the conversation they were going to have in the morning. He knew one thing for certain though, no matter what Felix said, he wasn’t going anywhere.

[ahoodgirl]

the space between | k.b.

▪︎ summary: a house party changes to a party at pool house down the street; Kane Brown & Restless Road provide music; Caroline & Kane get into a game of pool then things get spicy towards the end.

▪︎ relationship: KB & Caroline Thomas

▪︎ words: 2,057

▪︎ rating: pg 13

▪︎ author's note: this is part 1 of two; Kane isn't married & doesn't know Katelyn yet in this / before Kane & Kate met.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

the invitation was sent a week ago; some receiving them by the 4th day, others already having it. Another house party. The theme? All black. "Music will be provided my Kane Brown and Restless Road. Location has been changed to the pool hall down the road from the previous location. Please dress accordingly," I sigh, "well, could be worse." "Party will start at 7p and run until 2a. Please do not drive. As a safety precaution, you will have a driver come pick you up as a dd. Be ready when they arrive. Attached below is a picture of the car and license plate number that is picking you up. DO NOT GET IN A STRANGERS CAR. If you are not dressed in accordance to theme, you will be escorted out and driven back home." "Well damn. I guess I need to get ready then."

I get a shower and wash everything from my head to my toes. I then get out and dry off, looking for something black and sexy, going trough my closet until I find my 'seriously sexy' tight black faux leather pants, putting it on over my black lace panties. I then remember I have a spaghetti strap black lack crop-top so I put that on over my nipple covers. Knowing it was cool outside, I grab my black leather jacket and put it on.

Next was jewelry; I grabbed my gold chain necklace with a heart on it and put it on. For the final look, I grab my favorite smelling perfume and spray it all on me. I make sure I have everything before heading downstairs to wait for the driver.

♡

The driver came and picked me up and drove about 20 minutes until we pulled up and I got out. We were each given a number to hold onto, to know what car to get into.

By the time I went to the door and my outfit was approved, the music started, hearing everything from the bass to the drums, filling everyones ears with pure enjoyment. I open the second set of double-doors and walk in, my eyes scanning the entire room until they land on the band playing in the far left corner. I recognize the song as 'What Ifs' by KB & LA. I grab a quick drink from the bartender then make my way to the dance floor. I sway my hips back and forth to the beat as I casually sip on my drink, enjoying the song. They finish that one and play another one that I'm unfamiliar with, but I enjoy enjoy listening to. Kane's sitting on a stool with a mic stand in front of him.

They finish the song and say their taking a short 10 minute break. I walk by the stairs as i head to the bartender, and see a sign hanging in front saying 'upstairs off limits for party guests. will only be used by band and employees.' "Damn," I thought to myself as I grab another drink and head to an empty pool table and start playing by myself. I rack the balls then grab the cue and position it in front of the others.

I find a good pool-stick and take my first shot. It hits and balls fly everywhere on the table, as two solid balls pocket themselves—#3 & #7—on different sides of the table. As i line up my next shot, I hear a voice behind me say "nice shot, but be a little more heavy handed next time." I turn around and see Kane standing a few inches away, sipping on a beer. He wearing his infamous black jeans with a few holes, along with a green plaid shirt, a watch and his 'miracle' hat. His sleeves are rolled up just under his elbow, showing off all his tattoos. "Oh yeah? Then why don't you come over here and show me how to do it?" He sets his beer down and grabs the poolstick from my hand and lines up a shot, hitting it with a little force and the yellow #1 pockets in the side.

"Give me back my pool stick." I go to grab it, but he yanks it back, earning him a groan from me. "After I finishing playing my set, we're playing a few games to see who's better. Deal?" I roll my eyes, "and what does the winner get?" "The winner makes the loser follow them around and do whatever they tell them to." Kane sticks his hand out and I shake it a few seconds later. He goes to set up for the rest of the songs, and I play until all balls have been pocketed, and walk over to wait for the band to continue.

As they start up the next song, I down the rest of my drink and set it to the side. They play a sad song, then play a song I instantly recognize as 'like a rodeo'. This is the first time I'm hearing the acoustic version. It gets me in the mood to sway my hips to the beat and flip my hair back and forth. I close my eyes as I let myself feel the bass in my veins and dance to lyrics.

-

I've drunk two & ½ beers during their set and he says their playing the last song for the night, but a dj will be taking over until 2a. The song? Lose it. Love it.

The way he's singing and showing off his tattoos got my heart fluttering so bad. The violin guy knows what he's doing. So effortless but yet so smooth. The song comes to a close and he sings the final lyrics, "girl I lose it, yeah I lose it" and everyone erupts into applause and hollers. I see he look my way and moves his eyes to the pool tables, then walks off stage. I take my time following him until he stops in front of the 'no party guests' sign then sighs, "fuck. I forgot about that. Hang on a sec." I nod my head and step to the side while I wait for him to return.

He walks to the party-thrower owner and talks to him about letting me go up with him, and eventually nodding his head. Kane walks back over to me with the biggest shit-eatting grin I've seen since arriving a few hour beforehand. "Let me guess, you had to say you wanted to invite me upstairs with you to play pool just for me to be able to go past the sign?" "Yeah, but after we play a few games, you have to come back down here. We do have a time limit of an hour, though." I smile and finish my drink then say, "that's plenty of time for me to whoop your ass in pool." "I guess we'll see. Come on." He moves the sign to side then puts it back after we walk up.

He says he has a special table he likes to play on. We walk farther and I see an all-decked-out, totally customized red and black pool table. I whistle in appreciation of the color and look over at Kane, who is already grabbing his also customized pool stick, ready for anything. "Okay, Kane. I see you. But you gon' be in trouble once i'm done with you." I put my stuff to the side and grab a purple & black stick and get it ready. We do rock, paper & scissors to see who goes first and just out of luck, Kane wins. "Hell yeah!" He lines up his shot, pulls the stick back and lets go as the cue ball hits the others and they scatter across the table, but sadly none pocket.

I smile and look at the table then ask Kane, "do you have a preference on solids or stripes?" "Well, I normally go for stripes but," "okay!" I find the 9ball and hit it straight in. "You really had to do that?" I nod my head, "oh yeah. Anything to win. Step back," I see the striped 11 directly in front of him, so I set it up, pushing my ass back as far as I can without him noticing—knowing he's getting an eye full right now—as I pull back the cue stick, and let it hit, watching the ball go directly in the corner pocket.

I stand up and turn to Kane saying with a smirk, "I guess you won't get to play. Thats too bad," I turn back around and find another ball, pot that one and one more, before I miss the next one. I guess Kane does get to play. Damn.

He sets his sights on the two solid balls by the corner—#1 & #4—eventually deciding on #4 and pockets it in the corner, then pocketing the #1 on the other side. While he sets up another ball, he starts making small talk, bringing up conversation about my outfit.

"Not that I'm complaining, but what made you decide to wear that spaghetti strap shirt?" "I don't know, I bought it a year ago and only wore it twice, so I guess I wanted to just, let it out again. It's really comfortable, and along with these faux leather pants, it just goes so well together. I added the jacket just in case it gets cold." He pockets his third ball, but misses the fourth ball. I pocket my fifth & sixth ball, but miss the seventh.

"You know, that plaid shirt looks good with you black undershirt & ripped pant. And especially good with all those tattoos your showing off." The second I say that second sentence, he misses and I see him squeeze his eyes, but smile. "You just said that so I'd miss, didn't you?" "Maybe, maybe not. You'll never know."

I stand in front of the #15 ball and as I hit it, Kane decides to cough, making the ball hit the side. I stand up and turn to him, getting right up in his face saying, "you did that in revenge, didn't you?" He shrugs his shoulder, "maybe, maybe not. You'll never know. Now if you'll excuse me, it's my turn." I close my eyes and step to the side as he steps up the the table and in turn, pockets all his balls in except for the #7. "My turn." I make sure my ass is on full display as I pocket the #15 and go to set up the #8, but miss by ½ an inch. "Damn it." I hear him laugh from behind me and stands on the other side of the table, facing me then says, "don't worry, I won't hurt you too bad."

He hits his seventh and as he goes to set up the eight ball, I slowly walk to around the table, stopping beside him, feeling up his tattoos, walking behind him and stopping on the other side, as I sit on pool table, making sure he's looking in my eyes then whisper "you miss this, and you won't ever see me again, get to touch me or even kiss me, ever," in his ear and step back, never loosing eye contact. He takes his shot, and watches as the eight ball rolls and perfectly pockets in the middle.

Knowing that we've been up here for well over an hour, he grabs my hand and pulls me downstairs with him, talking the the band about spending some personal quality time by himself and with me, and eventually getting the keys to their hotel room.

I smile as we get in his dd's car and he takes us the the hotel. During the drive, he starts kissing every inch of me from collarbone, my neck and my jaw, up to my lips, making out until we reach our destination. We thank him and went inside to the elevator and continued our kissing until the elevator stops on level 8, both of us stepping out and walking down the hall until we stop at the door.

Kane looks me in my eyes and asks me a question, "are you sure you want to do this? We don't have to but it's up to you..." I look at him, and bite my lip, "i....,"

[moderndavetherapy]

All In Or Out

I waited patiently in the drive-thru, sitting in the passenger seat of a lifted pick-up. I gazed in awe at the organized assembly line staring at their all-white shirts and unique-looking caps. I had never been to an In & Out, but I heard all of the rave. I'm not as boujee as some foodies, but I do get pretty ecstatic when trying new things. There was a chance I was about the try the best burger of my life.

"Goose...Goose...Goose! Take the food!" I suddenly snapped out of the delicious daydream and slurped up the drool from my bottom lip as my landlord passed me two boxes of burgers and fries.

I was used to devouring fast food in cars before I arrived home. The guy I was with was I little peculiar though. He had been through more divorces than most and had the patience of the second grader. Before moving in with him, I knew I needed to be on my A game behavior and not piss him off.

Regardless of his uptightness, I survived the ride home and felt like a child on Christmas Eve waiting to open up presents. I prepared my dipping sauces and sprinkled some salt and pepper over my fries. I opened wide like I was at the dentist's office and took a large chunk out of the double-double. I took my grand old time savoring the flavor to see if the hype was real.

I noticed a funky flavor that I was not fond of. I used to be picky eater, but my palate had developed exponentially after my childhood. Mustard. I even ordered the burger without mustard. As I dissected my dinner, I couldn't even find a splash of yellow anywhere. I pinched off a piece of beef and carefully tasted every single seasoning. Mustard seed. I found the culprit.

Despite my dislike of mustard, along with the disappointment of their simple bland french fries, I'll end my hate speech on In & Out. I'll even say it's a solid late night snack. But my real Ted Talk is about being all in or all out...

I don't have a medium switch. It's almost if there are only two settings. My batteries are either on their last life or full of juice. The air conditioning is either blasting freezing cold or barely working at all. There's no half full. half empty, fifty-percent; it's all or nothing.

This one has been eating my alive for most of my life. The worst part is making the same mistake over and over again. I've realized that a lot of this stems from emotions. As simple as it sounds, I have not had the leisure of controlling them the best. The worst part is a majority of the time I regulate them too much. I withhold emotions at times to maintain a role. It's not healthy. I've withheld my emotions, because the addies took them away. I've hid my emotions to hide my vulnerability, and that one hurts the most.

With all of this build up and stored energy, I'm just a ticking-time bomb waiting to explode. It's not a substance or alcohol issue, well it is, but it's everything. From working, to gambling, working out, reading, laughing, and loving. I'm like a teeter-totter that can never find an equilibrium, always living on polar opposite ends. Living on the poles of the earth has led to a roller coaster life of happy highs and depressing lows. The emotional void and trips of turmoil have finally hit a road block and something must be done.

The awareness is a huge step, but there's still miles to travel. It's painful not being able to watch a sports game thinking, "I can't enjoy this without betting." It's depressing pondering, "I can't go out tonight, because there's a chance I won't stop drinking." It's embarrassing not being able to reach out, because "I'm working on myself or becoming a better me."

Just like food, we are learning what we like and don't like. I am learning what I can do and cannot. Rather than take the cold turkey approach at life and ride the emotional roller coaster, I've learned to slowly integrate and find peace in it. This all or none has led to nothing but despair. I know I won't be perfect along the way, especially at the sports book, but we are human after all. I've learned to go to NFL games without betting, bars with only have two drinks, allowing myself some cheat meals, and practice this thing they call "balance."

Here's to control and finding that medium setting.

[bqstqnbruin]

One of my driving pet peeves is someone passing me on a double yellow line and it is a /dream/ of mine to have someone do that and get caught by police and watch it all go down. It just goes to show, I love karma lol I see it play out quickest when I'm out there driving

I remember when I was in high school like my freshman or sophomore year I was on the bus and this guy went around the school bus like from behind us, over the double yellow line, while my friend was CROSSING THE STREET to get on the bus with the bus stop sign out and the lights flashing which is fifty shades of illegal and the guy who did it didn't realize that there was a cop who lived in our neighborhood and was had just clocked in and was patrolling two cars behind him so he whipped around and pulled him over wicked fast it was great

[radicalnotions]

It had been five years since Nell had left Kansas. In that time, she had given this moment a lot of thought, had mulled over all of the different ways she might approach coming face to face with the man who was still legally bound to her after years of minimal-to-no communication. In all of her ruminations, she never quite imagined it like this. She conjured up scenarios where Arlo spontaneously, voluntarily agreed to acknowledge their separation and submitted to a divorce; wondered if he might show up on her doorstep one day seeking her signature to free him; and made herself sick with worry that she would have to drag him to court to compel him to allow her to fully move on.

But she never really was very good at dealing with difficulties head-on. So she'd remained married to him. Despite the five years that spanned their separation. Despite the emotionally thin relationships that had come and gone and come. Despite the inevitability that he had welcomed new women into their marital bed.

Nell's stomach twisted, the taste of bile sharp at the back of her mouth. Now wasn't the time to revisit these thoughts.

The Bronco surged forward and shifted into the left lane, indicating it would pass them. Not Arlo's finest move, passing on a double-yellow line, but hardly surprising to her, given the array of other driving maneuvers she'd been witness to over the years. The one thing she had that he didn't? The element of surprise.

Steadying her laptop, she bolted forward in her seat, limited less by audacity and more by the seatbelt. "Put down your window!" she hissed urgently, causing Steve to scramble to find the correct button on the newly-acquainted side console, pressing and pulling several incorrect switches before deploying the correct one.

Nell's pulse pounded in her ears as the Bronco came into view, Arlo's smug face visible through the door glass. Watching the pride fade from his features — even momentarily, the shock of recognition overriding his default arrogance — gave her a stomach-fluttering thrill, rivalling that of the negative vertical acceleration of a plane's take-off. The adrenaline coursing through her, bolstered by her irritation, kept her own knowing smirk from shifting when his hand lifted in the gesture they used to use to signal an incoming tornado, seemingly as a "welcome back" message. Not one to stand down from a challenge, Nell lifted her hand and returned the gesture, albeit modified: her middle finger raised and turning in the same circular movement, mimicking that of a twister.

And then he was gone. Speeding off, merging back into the westbound lane, the late seventies model Ford disappearing as the road narrowed into Greensburg.

"Kansas drivers, am I right?" Steve mumbled under his breath as he found the switch to roll up the window.

Steve and Nell spent the rest of the drive in near silence. Not long after the incident with Arlo, Steve had shut off the radio in favor of listening to the periodic GPS directions to the motel. She wasn't about to complain; the absence of music allowed her to pick up on the change in wind sounds as the rental shuddered slightly, coming up to the last set of traffic lights. Glancing up at the power lights, she noticed they were clear. No birds.

Reaching for her phone, Nell checked her notifications. Two text messages from her producer. An email confirmation for their vehicle rental. A text message from—

A stray thought derailed her.

Arlo's gesture. It wasn't just a welcome back signal.

Nell bolted upright in the passenger seat. "There's a tornado coming," she said, opening the radar tracking software the studio used.

"What on earth are you talking about?" Steve said, navigating the SUV into the parking lot of the motel. Before Nell could respond, the cameraman groaned audibly. "Oh god, the dickhead from the road is here."

Muddied hazel eyes snapped up from the swath of red tracking across the north-western quadrant of Oklahoma to lock on the very same Bronco that had cut them off. "Park next to him."

Steve's head swivelled to Nell. "What? Why would I do that?"

"So we can keep track of him." The blonde snapped her laptop shut and swiftly slid it into its protective sleeve. She would have to take a better look at the storm when they were in the room or, better yet, when they were back on the road. But a few things would have to happen before that. Including dealing with Arlo, head-on. For once and for all. "Get us checked in, okay? I'll meet you in there. I'm going to have a chat with our friend."

Before Steve could register his protest, Nell was halfway out of the passenger door, laptop in one hand and purse in the other. The potent cocktail of adrenaline and irritation that had fuelled her during their initial exchange had rebounded in her system, flooding her body as she marched around the back of the vehicles to Arlo's window. It took everything in her not to rap her knuckles against his window before he slowly began to work the analog handle.

"See your driving hasn't gotten any less reckless," Nell remarked, tucking her laptop into her bag in a trade for her phone. It didn't house the same radar software but it would allow her to communicate with a few analysts in the interim, and was far better in-hand than nothing. "Some things don't change, yeah?"

@flamekeepcr

The vintage Bronco's cab was filled with the quiet, slightly off-beat drumming of his fingers against the worn, cracked leather of the steering wheel. The low rumble of the engine merged with the distant sound of the whistling wind through the cracked window offered the kind of comfort that nothing else could. Through the dusty windshield, the highway seemed to stretch on endlessly, flanked by vast fields that reached to the horizon. Kansas wasn't for everyone, but it was only place he'd ever called home.

His dark hues shifted from the road momentarily as he dismissed the meaningless alerts. It was the same message every time, and yet every time, he did the one thing he warned against — he chased.

Tornado Warning: Take Action! There is imminent danger to life and property. Move to an interior room on the lowest floor of a sturdy building. Avoid windows. If in a mobile home, a vehicle, or outdoors, move to the closest substantial shelter and protect yourself from flying debris.

A boyish grin tugged crookedly onto his mouth. If there were warnings being issued, it meant that the 2024 Super Outbreak was living true to it's name. It was great for the business he'd built, but terrible for every other reason. Homes were destroyed, lives were lost, and towns were reduced to nothing more than memories.

Arlo took a deep breath, disregarding the faint ache in his chest and the twist in his stomach as he approached a dark blue SUV. The guilt could wait. The out-of-sync drumming stopped, fingers curling around the steering wheel in a tight grip. Impatience flowed through his veins, along with the exhilaration of taking risks. He'd survived plenty, what was one more chance at fate? The engine hummed louder as he pressed down on the pedal, watching the needle climb higher.

The storm chaser got close enough to the vehicle in front of him to make out every letter and number on its license plate. With unwavering determination and a stroke of luck, he abruptly steered to the left as the speedometer kept rising, surpassing sixty-five, despite a sign indicating a speed limit ten miles lower.

His strategy was simple: glance over, give a quick smile, mouth an apology, and pray that the oncoming traffic lane remained empty until he could overtake the vehicle. However, his plan quickly unraveled. The amused expression on his face twisted into confusion, and then transformed into a hollow, arrogant facade. She was back, or as close to back as he'd ever imagined her to be. Was she reporting? And who was the piss poor driver behind the wheel? Instinctively, Arlo lifted his hand, circling the air in a way that only she'd understand.

Eleanor Sullivan, Eleanor Raynor? The last time he'd been brave enough to seek her out, he'd uncovered the regrettable truth. The ring hadn't been the only thing she'd left in Kansas when she departed.

Mile after mile, the man pressed on, his foot only easing up on the gas when the dimly-lit sign of the motel finally came into sight. It wasn't a five star stay by any means, but it was the most affordable option in town, and at that moment, a bed was all he needed. After turning off the engine and tucking the keys into the pocket of his worn flannel shirt, Arlo let out a frustrated sigh. The wedding band encircling his ring finger felt unusually constricting, a reminder of the woman he'd passed on the highway moments earlier. With great care, he slid the ring off his finger and placed it gently on the dashboard, the dim light glinting off its polished surface.

As his heart rate gradually returned to normal, he glanced over and noticed a blue SUV parking in the spot to his right. He quickly concealed the ring that was resting on the dashboard, tucking it into the front pocket of his jeans. Somehow, he preferred his chances against a tornado.

Slowly, he cranked at the knob on the door, twisting again and again as his window lowered, welcoming a swift breeze against the warmth in his cheeks. "Sorry about that. Could've sworn those lines were dotted," he greeted, voice surprisingly strong for a man with shaky hands and a chest full of uncertainty.

@radicalnotions

[lowlights]

Writer Wednesday - Weekend Getaway

So, it isn't Wednesday. But time is merely a construct. So, this is my first time participating in @writer-wednesday! I put all the Pedro boys into a spinner and wouldn't you know it- got Pero on the first spin. The Universe won't let me escape my grumpy man. I'm not complaining. I wouldn't have gotten this done without my bestie boo @tuskens-mando who is the best thing in the entire universe.

Weekend Getaway

WC: 985

Pairing: modern!Pero x f!reader

Warnings: none. Fluff city.

You can practically see the brightness outside through your closed lids as the sun bounces off of the white snow. You’ve spent the last few hours cuddled up against your boyfriend Pero, your arms wrapped around his right arm, as the heat blasts in his vintage moss green Bronco. The snow had stopped falling the night before, leaving behind a world blanketed in white powder. You didn’t mind the cold, especially when you could snuggle into Pero like he was your own personal space heater. As he drives you have been dozing against him off and on, only waking up to grumble when he needed to shift gears.

“We are coming into the town, mi amada,” Pero says softly with a kiss against your head. Pero had refused to tell you where exactly you were headed when he had roused you out of bed at four in the morning, telling you he had already packed your bag and had the car warmed. He only smirked when you cursed at him as he pulled you up out of bed and guided you into the bathroom to get ready. You push off of him with a yawn and a stretch, slowly cracking open one eyelid and then the other as you adjust to the light.

To call it a town is far too generous, as it’s just a few tiny streets lined with the most picturesque buildings you’ve ever seen. Everything is warm and inviting and quaint as can be. Pero double-checks the address on the crumpled piece of paper clutched tightly in his hand, a reminder of his stubbornness as he refuses to use GPS, as he pulls into a small lot next to the Mountain Slope Lodge.

“Pero, this is so cute! What are we doing here?” you exclaim, happily popping out of the car and trotting around the front, coming to a skidded stop in Pero’s arms as you slide on some ice.

“Careful there, eh? We just got here, you can’t spend the whole weekend with an injury,” he chides.

Pero unloads the bags and follows you through the front doors of the little hotel. The whoosh of warm air feels so inviting as you step inside. Pero heads straight to the front desk while you poke around the little lobby. There are dozens of pictures from decades of visitors, some yellowed and aged and others much newer, each one telling a bit of the long history of the hotel. You get to a collection of recent photos with a large camera crew visible and what is clearly a movie set.

“Babe, look at these photos! I think they filmed a show or something here,” you say to Pero as he comes sauntering over to you. Your eyes scan the collage until you reach one in the corner that clearly shows this hotel but with a different name emblazoned across the entrance.

“Silver Springs Inn? That name is so familiar…” you wonder aloud, trailing off in thought.

Pero stands by while you contemplate the photos, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “Ah, perhaps you have seen this before?” he asks.

“No, I can’t have. I’ve never been to this town before,” you mutter, brows knitted in thought.

Pero lets out a low hmm. “But you said you have seen this place?”

You nod, biting your lip in thought.

With a huff, Pero crosses his arms. “Isn’t this where Dario and Sylvie stayed on their honeymoon?” he says with annoyance.

You snap your head around to look at him. “Who are…wait, oh my god! From that Netflix movie I was watching on repeat last week?” you exclaim, leaning in excitedly to look at the photos. “Yes, there’s Dario in the background of this shot!”

You turn around fully to Pero who is still standing with his arms crossed, scowl deeply etched into his face. You put your hand on his forearm, concerned that you’ve made him angry. Not that he’s ever acted that way; he’s never even raised his voice to you. “Oh no, are you mad at me?”

His face immediately softens. “No, no, mi amada. I just thought I had gotten the place wrong or that you didn’t recognize it. I’m sorry.” He uncrosses his arms and takes your hand in his, holding it up against his heart.

You start to smile as it dawns on you. “I thought you said you weren’t watching ‘that trash’ when I had it on?”

Pero drops your hand and picks up the bags. “Where are the steps in this place?” he says, clearly avoiding your question. He strides off across the lobby and you quickly follow.

“You said, and I quote: ‘This barusa -’”

“Basura,” he corrects with a grumble.

“‘- basura is what you would fill that pretty head with?’” you say in a grumpy tone, mocking your beloved with your best Pero impersonation as you both climb the stairs.

Pero still ignores you, looking around for your room. He finds it and slides the card into the reader, pushing the door open with a flourish. You follow him in and tug him into the middle of the room as soon as he puts the bags down.

“Hey,” you say to his still-serious face, “I’m just kidding. It means a lot that you noticed and brought me here. I’m so excited to explore the town with you.” You stand on your tiptoes to press a kiss against his lips, loving how he immediately melts against you.

“It might be too cold for much exploring. Maybe we stay in bed?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, making you snort.

“Fine by me. Can I call you Dario while we’re here? You can call me Sylvie,” you say playfully.

Pero looks at you sternly. “No.”

That’s the last thing he says before he tosses you into the bed, eager to get the weekend started properly.

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Fire and Ice Day for @nessianweek Yes, I just wanted an excuse to write more hockey player Cassian. No, I will not be taking criticisms at this time. Follow up to this drabble. Hope you enjoy! :) 

Nesta steps out of the English building, taking in a deep breath of the crisp, winter air. The lecture hall had been stifling, and the way Professor Matthews had droned on and on about Chekhov had her desperate for the class to end. She cuts across the Commons, heading toward the library, when she hears heavy footsteps fall in beside her. She doesn't need to look to know who they belong to. 

"So about that dinner," Cassian starts. 

"I don't actually recall agreeing to it." 

"Well, how else am I supposed to thank you for being there in my time of concussion need?" 

"You don't need to thank me. Maybe I was just hoping to see if a good thwack to your head would finally fix it. Clearly, it didn't." 

"Sadly, all it did was make my two working brain cells become just one," Cassian says, putting on his best solemn tone. 

The comment pulls a surprised laugh out of Nesta, and when she turns her head to look at Cassian, his smile is wide and his eyes are bright. She swears she can almost see pride swimming in those flecks of gold that make up his hazel eyes. 

"So what time should I pick you up?" 

Nesta doesn't respond. She merely rolls her eyes with a scoff and continues toward the library. That is until Cassian uses his long strides to step in front of her, effectively cutting her path off. 

"What do you have to lose?"

"My sanity?" 

"So 6:00 then?" 

Nesta takes a moment to take Cassian in. He still has that cocky grin that never seems to leave splashed across his face. But she doesn't miss the way he fidgets, running a hand through his tangle of dark curls, nor does she miss the nervous pinch around his eyes. She supposes she could go for a good meal, and while Cassian most definitely gets under her skin, he's not the worst company. 

"I have to meet with my group for our psychology project. 7:00?" 

"Deal." 

The smile on Cassian's face pulls even wider, and Nesta's pretty sure the only thing keeping him from actually cheering is the way he clenches his fists at his side. It's endearing, and Nesta bites the inside of her cheek to keep her own smile tampered down. 

"Well, see you then," Nesta says, starting back toward her original destination of the library. 

"Wear something nice, yeah?" Cassian calls after her. 

Nesta flips him off over her shoulder at the comment, and Cassian's booming laughter follows her all the way across the Commons. 

Luckily, meeting with the students in her group project isn't too migraine inducing. They divvy up the work and all agree on who will take which slides. When she makes it back to her dorm, she pulls a black dress out and gets started on her makeup. 

At 7:00 on the dot, there's a knock at her door. She quickly slips on her heels before pulling it open, Cassian waiting on the other side. The way that Cassian's mouth drops open and the awed way he whispers, "holy shit," has a blush creeping in and settling on Nesta's cheeks. 

"You clean up nice," she notes. 

And he does. Cassian has on a button down, the sleeves rolled up slightly, the tanned skin of his forearms and the ink that swirls against it on full display. Both the shirt and the black slacks he's wearing are form fitting, showing off the athletic cut to his body, years of skating having done wonders for honing the muscles. And while Cassian's dark curls are loose against his shoulders, Nesta can tell he's put product in it. 

Nesta waits for Cassian to make some sort of quip back after her comment, maybe for him to even comment on her, but he just continues to stare like he can't believe she's actually real. She tries not to focus on the fact that look has her heart beating double time in her chest, or the fact that warmth settles through her whole body. Instead, Nesta just rolls her eyes and steps fully into the hall, closing her door behind her. The sound seems to jolt Cassian back to reality, who blinks hard before his eyes focus properly on Nesta's own. 

"Wait," he says. "Bring your skates."

"My skates?" Nesta asks confusedly. "I thought we were going to dinner?"

"We are, but bring them."

"Why?"

"Just bring them." 

Nesta sighs, clearly not getting a straight answer out of him. But she heads back inside, stuffing a heavy pair of socks into her skates. She steps into the hall, skates in hand, and raises a pointed eyebrow as if to ask, 'happy?' Cassian's just answers with a wide grin. 

Cassian leads Nesta down to his truck, and she's surprised when he drives them to one of the higher end chophouses downtown. Dinner is good and the conversation flows easily between them. Cassian even asks Nesta about her current book and actually looks genuinely interested as she explains it. Although, his smirk is infuriating as she tries to subtly skip over the more… scandalous parts. 

After dinner, they clamber back into Cassian's truck, and Nesta's brow pinches in confusion as they pull into the rink parking lot. This explains the skate request. When Nesta looks over at Cassian, his eyes are already on her. Under the yellow glow of the parking lot lights, his eyes look extra golden, but Nesta doesn't miss the mischievous glint swimming in them. 

"I'm not exactly dressed for skating," Nesta points out, glancing down at her dress as if to prove her point. 

"Says who?"

"I'm serious." 

Rather than respond, Cassian just reaches back into the backseat of his truck, producing one of the hockey team sweatshirts, which he holds out toward Nesta. Nesta hesitates for only a moment before she's pulling it on over her dress. It's clearly too big on her, but the fabric is soft and the scent of fabric softener and Cassian fills her senses. 

When they get inside, the Friday night public skate is still in full swing, families and awkward high school dates milling about on the ice and in the lobby. In their attire, Nesta is sure that she and Cassian must stick out like sore thumbs. They walk up to the reception desk, and Nesta expects Cassian to ask for two passes for the public skate, but instead he and the rink staffer share a pointed look and then a key is being slid inconspicuously into Cassian's hand. Before Nesta can even start to ask what that means, Cassian is grabbing her hand, pulling her down the hall, past the locker rooms and snack bar. His eyes quickly dart around before he slides the key into the right side of the double doors, tugging Nesta inside and flipping on the lights. 

"The tiny-ass practice rink?" Nesta asks, looking around.

"Bal owes me a favor," Cassian explains, pocketing the key. 

Cassian grabs Nesta's hand again and leads her around to the benches. They each take their time trading their shoes for skates before stepping out onto the ice. 

There's something about the way ice feels under her feet that calms Nesta in a way nothing else can. The cutting sound of her skates against it is like music to her ears. She glides easily to center ice, taking a deep breath and letting the cold welcome her into its embrace. She feels Cassian's presence behind her, warm hands settling on her hips. 

"You know you look better in this sweatshirt than I ever did," he says, voice pitched low. 

"Sounds like a personal problem," Nesta counters, turning around to face Cassian. "It's not my fault even hockey things look better on figure skaters." 

"Big words coming from someone who needs a toe pick to stop."

"That's not what a toe pick is for." 

"How about a race then? To settle things." 

"Fine." 

They both skate over to the goal line, getting into their starting positions. Cassian counts them in with a ‘ready, set, go,’ and then they’re off, sprinting down the ice. Nesta’s hair whips past her face, the cool rink air rushing along her cheeks, as she pushes her legs to go faster and faster still. Cassian crosses the other goal line first, an icy spray flying up as he stops hard before the boards. Nesta stops beside him, crossing her arms as she takes in his wide smirk. 

"You totally cheated."

"What? I did not."

"You have longer legs. It's an unfair advantage."

"Sounds like excuses to me. Just admit it. Hockey players are better."

"Are they? Could a hockey player do this?" 

Nesta pushes off the boards and settles easily into her stride. A swing of her leg and a push of her foot and she's up in the air, pulling her arms in tight as she twists and twists around. Her feet land back on the ice and she glides out of the move gracefully. When her eyes land back on Cassian, his own are wide and awed as he watches her. But then his eyes narrow, arms crossing over his chest. 

“Who’s cheating now?” 

“Fine. Something simple then.” 

Nesta jumps and does a single twist, holding her arms out when she lands and raising an eyebrow toward Cassian in challenge. His eyes stay narrowed on her, but he pushes off the boards, settling into a stride toward center ice. 

“How hard can it be,” Cassian mutters. 

Cassian skates a few circles, clearly trying to walk himself through the move, trying to hype himself up. Nesta has to bite the inside of her cheek while she waits. After a few moments, he throws himself into the air, spinning around once. His skates land back on the ice, and for a moment, Nesta is about to be impressed, but then his left foot is slipping out from under him. He falls ass-first onto the ice with a loud ‘oof.’ 

Nesta can’t help the loud laugh that tears its way out of her chest. She tries to press a hand to her mouth to stifle it, but her whole body shakes with it. When she finally calms down and finds Cassian's stare again, his face is marred with an unimpressed frown. 

“I’m so glad my pain brings you joy,” Cassian says sarcastically before holding his arms up toward her. “Aren’t you going to help me up?” 

“No.” 

Nesta realizes she’s made a mistake. A slow smirk slides across Cassian’s face and even from across the rink, there’s no missing the mischievous glint in his eyes. Before Nesta can even blink, Cassian is on his feet and charging toward her across the ice. The rink is small with nowhere to go, so soon Nesta finds herself cornered back against the boards, Cassian’s arms bracketing her in on either side. 

Cassian opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but it gets lost along the way, and instead he just stares. This close up, Nesta can see the greens hidden in his hazel eyes, the way they flicker under the rink lights. Cassian’s eyes drop down to her lips before settling back on her eyes, and Nesta’s heart does a little flip in her chest. 

"Can I kiss you?"

"What if I say no?"

Cassian leans in closer, and Nesta can feel his warm breath ghosting over her lips, is sure that he can feel the way the breath hitches in her throat. 

"Say no, then," Cassian whispers. 

The silence hangs between them for only a second before Cassian closes the distance, pressing his lips to Nesta’s. Nesta practically melts into it, pressing closer as their lips slot and slide against one another. One of Cassian’s hands comes up to bracket her jaw, his other arm wrapping securely around her waist. She can feel the way he sighs against her lips, the deep groan in his chest as the kiss deepens. 

"Hey, why are the lights on back here?" 

They break apart at the sudden voice, Cassian taking Nesta’s hand and tugging her down so they’re hidden behind the boards and out of sight. They can hear the footsteps of the rink staffer walking around, and Nesta turns to glare at Cassian. 

"I swear, if we end up arrested because of you…"

"Don't worry. I'd never let that happen. We're both too pretty for jail."

[flippyspoon]

What finally makes Billy crack and tell Steve “I love you”?

This made me write a whole thing!

Paris, Texas

Billy cracks somewhere outside Joplin, Missouri.

They are driving out to L.A. to make a new life. As friends, which is more than Billy thought he’d ever get.

The whole thing feels like a dream, even after all the planning and the months of scraping money together.

The diner outside Joplin is a long low building in the middle of endless flat land that seems to stretch into forever. He doesn’t remember the world looking like this when he drove out to Hawkins with his dad and Max and Susan. But then, that drive was miserable even in his own car trying to drive so far ahead of his father that he could pretend Neil wasn’t even there. This drive is...different. It’s just him and Steve in the Beamer and one of those little rented trailers hitched to the back with all their stuff.

That endless land everywhere that blurs by as Steve drums his fingers on the steering wheel gives Billy a big feeling in his chest like the whole world belongs to just the two of them. Sometimes he feels a little dizzy and imagines the car taking flight, soaring into the sky.

He thinks of this as they sit across from each other in a diner booth. Steve might be thinking of something similar because his eyes are far away as he stares out the window. They’re waiting for their food.

Billy allows himself to drink Steve in for a moment. Yellow t-shirt clinging to his lean frame. No one should look that good in yellow. Steve’s sitting back in the booth and nodding his head slightly as if along to music that’s not even playing as he stares out the window at the infinite landscape.

“Where’s your head, pretty boy?” Billy says.

Steve looks at him in surprise and takes a drink of ice water. “Nowhere! Right here, I guess. I was just uh…” He scratches his neck. “Remember that one arty movie Robin made us watch? The one about the guy in the red hat and he was wandering around and all out of it in the desert and then he was looking for his wife-”

“Paris, Texas,” Billy supplies.

“Yeah.” Steve gestures vaguely at the view. “This reminds me of that. I never really thought of stuff like that before Robin made us watch those movies. Didn’t like all of em’. But they kinda… I dunno. Now regular stuff looks sort of different and cool? Makes me think of shit. Is that what art’s supposed to do?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Billy grins, wide and carefree. “That’s so deep, Harrington.”

“Yeah, whatever.” But Steve cracks a smile and Billy thinks his cheeks flush a little.

I love you I love you I love you I

The words threaten to burst out of his mouth and he even starts to speak, terror flooding his veins.

“Steve-”

“Double bacon burger, double cheese burger?” The waitress swans up, a plate in each hand and Steve dives in after a cursory thank you.

The “I love you” dies in his throat and he’s thankful. They eat and between mouthfuls talk about the weird sights they’ve seen on the road so far.

There was a guy dressed as a clown sadly spinning a sign pointing to newly built houses.

There was a parade of wild dogs.

There was a statue of a horse.

Steve orders them shakes and only then notices the little jukebox on the table. “Oh shit, we need music.” He bites his lip and flips through the selection. “Oh here we go. This one’s for you because you keep freaking out about the apartment and because, ya know, California…” He slips a nickel in the slot and punches buttons and a second later the Beach Boys start singing.

“Don’t Worry, Baby.”

Steve sings along.

“She makes me come alive...and makes me wanna drive…”

Normally, Billy would think it’s funny because between the two of them Steve tends to be a bigger worry wart, but the cool thing is they’ve gotten good at talking each other down from shit.

Almost like a couple.

“Don’t worry, babyyyy.”

The words are wriggling up right from Billy’s stomach again and into his throat and he can’t stop it this time after all this time it’s finally gotten away from him in the middle of Joplin, Missouri-

“I love you,” Billy says.

For a fraction of a second there, he’s sure it got lost in the music and Steve didn’t hear him.

But then Steve’s eyes go wide.

“Shakes!” The waitress announces, setting them down on the table.

“Thanks, darlin’.” Billy winks at the waitress, hoping to distract from what the hell he just said. “Appreciate it. Hey Steve, do you have a buck for smokes? They gotta machine over there.”

“Um.” Steve nods slowly. “Uh. Yeah.”

Fuck shit shit holy shit…

They drink their shakes quietly.

Outside they lean on the car and smoke and Billy watches the wind blow Steve’s hair around. This time Steve looks like he’s searching for an answer in that land that goes on and on to the perfect line of horizon just like that guy in the red hat. Except that guy was trying to reconcile his past in the movie. Steve’s the future. If Billy hasn’t just fucked everything up.

Billy stubs his cigarette out in the gravel under his boot and Steve is looking up at the sky when he says, “I love you too. I’m in love with you.”

Billy’s pretty sure that the car must have flown off into the clouds with them in it. Because he’s sure he’s feet are no longer on the ground as he reaches out and grabs a fistful of Steve’s sweaty t-shirt, tugging him forward.

Steve tastes like his chocolate milkshake and his lips are warm and Billy feels them curve into a smile against his mouth before Billy nudges them apart. He feels fingers in his hair, playing with his curls.

Billy feels like he’s gonna fall down and half slumps against the car. Steve chuckles into the curve of his neck. “I know, man.”

For a minute they just stand there, embracing each other, listening to the wind.

Finally Steve takes his hand and says, “Let’s go, baby.”

[neververy4]

We’re a little over 1/2 way, so now I’m gonna vote on it and give my answer.

Answer is Yes*, this is road rage

But I’m sure you saw the asterisk, which means I think it’s more nuanced than a simple yes. Firstly, let me define some things. “Road Rage” is when a driver gets annoyed at another driver/obstical, and does something not normal to speak out. Intentionally swerving to hit a opossum on the side of the road is road rage, even if the driver is having fun. Intentionally merging back and forth on a 4-lane road to keep someone in “an oversized and heavily modified pickup truck” from passing you is road rage, even if the driver is having fun. Being annoyed by someone driving 6 below the posted speed limit and tailgating them with your low beams on is also road rage. (Also, 6 below the posted limit is still driving the speed limit. It’s a speed LIMIT, not a Speed).

With that being said, I consider this to be road rage.

You may not have been raging when you beeped your horn. In fact, you were amused. But, you went out of your way to anatagionze another driver. The driver of the other car is already not in a good mindset. Anyone who’s willing to pass a double line over a +3MPH difference with what’s posted has a lot of issues going on. By intentionally antagonizing the driver, you’ve increased that deranged mindset. Maybe the driver would have decided instead to get out and fight you. Maybe you’ve increased the drivers rage enough to make him act MORE recklessly. Look, the point is, you’ve pissed the dude off even more. You’re increasing someone’s road rage, a bad thing to begin with.

I drive for a living. 225 miles a night, 6 nights a week. I deal with a LOT of different road raging, from people flashing their brights, to passing me on double yellow lines, to tailgating with horns blazing, and even swerving to pass me, only to try and break-check me. (Brake-checking is when you slam on your brakes as hard as you can while there’s someone behind you). People are insane. All because I did some little action differently than how they would have expected. All of this is bad enough as it is, without me trying to “Retaliate” or “fight back”. I drive a 1999 Isuzu NPR for work, this truck will win most physical fights people try to pull. But I don’t, because I’m not insane.

Anyways, I’m rambling. the point of this is me saying “Just because it seems small doesn’t mean it is”. That small little thing might be the tipping point for another driver. It’s not worth it, just let the guy throw his fit and drive away. Keep yourself safe, and always watch out.

HYPOTHETICAL QUESTION:

You are driving on a US town road. It is 8:26 AM and no one else is around. You are cruising roughly 38 down a 2-lane (one Northbound lane, one Southbound lane) road labeled with a speed limit of 35 MPH. A driver speeding noticeably faster than you drives right up onto your tail, sits there for about 15 seconds tailgating you, then crosses the solid double-yellow line to pass you. This action is a violation of traffic laws. The driver speeds off, and you continue to drive your same speed. About one US minute later, you catch up to the driver at a red light. No one else is here except you two. Amused at the irony, you decide give your horn two short beeps the second the traffic light turns green; faking annoyance at the other drivers “reaction time” to the traffic light change. The other driver speeds off, and you resume your previous cruising speed of 38MPH in a 35MPH zone.

[subwaysurf45]

Winter Makes Ice (Ep.3)

Summary:  you’re captured after a brawl at the Avengers building, Bucky and others must save you before Hydra makes a new Winter Soldier out of you, Bucky has given up that title.

Words: 2799

Episode: Three

Warning: not much, flashbacks, talks of violence

Masterlist! Winter Makes Ice Episode: Two

Time: 1:00pm 

Date: October 2nd 2024

It didn’t take long for everyone to board the helicopter and for it to take off, no one was lounging around this morning so they assembled quickly. Bucky sat by himself on the heli, the file was still open in his hands with the page turned to Dr. Wright. Bucky looked over the information that was given; he double and triple checked. There was a car waiting for them when they were going to arrive, Bucky would get dropped off and then Steve, Nat, and Wanda would drive around Halifax but would keep watch for a distress signal. Bucky made it clear it would only be him talking to the doctor, he was practicing his script in his head. 

“Five minutes ‘till landing,” the pilot spoke into his headset, the sound went to their ears sounding like a 1940s radio show. 

“Copy,” everyone replied without unison. 

The plane got lower and lower until it touched the ground; it was a private tarmac for primarily military forces and other important people; SHIELD was always allowed to use it. Everyone got off the plane after the propellers began to slow down, Bucky had jumped off once while they were still at top speed and got flung forward but the air. The all black car stood a ways in front of them, they all took their bags and headed over. 

“What a ride…” Steve muttered as he ran his hand against the perfect hood, this car was brand new and probably had never been in the sun before. It wasn’t a low sport car but rather an everyday car that was bullet proof and decked out with an AI on the inside, no one would take a second glance at it but the four of them marveled at how this car could fit in amongst others. The black rims matched the black tires and the black paint, this was Bucky’s dream car. 

They all got in and the ride began, Steve drove while Wanda sat in the back with Bucky, Nat was in the passenger seat playing her music. Every so often Wanda would look over to Bucky, he could see her out of the corner of his eye, she’d give a sympathetic glance and maybe open her mouth as if she was about to say something but chose against it. Bucky had Dr. Wright’s address on the file sheet; he was giving directions to Steve as they drove through the colourful houses. 

They had never seen houses like this, around four to five houses lined up next to each other, each of them were painted a different colour but they looked the same. Flowers grew in little holders under the two window sills at the front of the house, tulips were the most popular, vines would grow on the side where the sun didn’t shine too much and pain would chip around the bottom of the houses. Some houses still had Halloween decorations up, red leaves scattered on the ground and blew everywhere. There was a brown hue to the world around them, pumpkins were scattered on some door steps while other people still had Christmas lights up from last year. 

Bucky tapped Steve’s head rest and the car slowed to a stop, they looked out to their left to see a house that looked like it belonged to the community. It wasn’t modern and square with sleek grey tiles on the outside, it was old and run down. A ghost hung from the single garage light, one pumpkin was sitting on the doorstep. This house didn’t look like one of a nazi group member, nevermind just a person with their doctorate.

Tons of leaves crunched under Bucky’s combat boots, the road was littered with them, it made it seem like it was a red and yellow road. He looked both ways as he crossed even though no cars were on the road except for the military grade undercover car, Bucky looked over his shoulder to see Wanda waving. They were going to head to a farmers market in this town to pass the time, and Bucky would walk over there when he was done. He gave a thumbs up and the car drove away and down the street, he didn’t watch to see it disappear, Bucky only had one thing on his mind and it wasn’t some apple pies Wanda was looking for. 

The driveway looked new as well as the cobblestone walkway, one car was in the driveway and it looked to match the house, no crazy sports car. There was a screen door before an actual green wooden door, Bucky pulled back the screen and didn’t bother with the doorbell, he banged on the door. When he pulled his fist away there was a flake of green paint on his middle finger’s knuckle, a quick swipe and it was gone. Bucky stood back because he saw that in the movies, his back turned to the door as he looked out to the town. It was a lovely day, most people were probably at this farmer’s market, Bucky had never been to one even though you had offered to take him. 

His head whipped back at the door opening, the same man, but only older, opened the door. He looked tired and worn out, this was probably his last Halloween. The cane he was holding was shaking in his grip, the other hand gripped the side of the door extremely tight. You could see the white through the speckled skin. 

“What can I help you with, son?” the old man spoke with a smile, he licked his gums. A Canadian accent seemed almost cartoon-ish. 

Bucky froze as he looked at this man, the sight of him brought him back to his nightmares and everything he’d been through. The name ‘son’ rolled off this man’s tongue and down Bucky’s spine and sent a shiver running all through him, it was obvious this man didn’t know who Bucky was. Bucky almost felt bad that he was bothering him, it was obvious he wasn’t a walker and standing seemed to be his exercise for the day, but at the same time Bucky couldn’t help but think about all the ways he could rip this doctor apart. 

“Son?” the name came again. 

Bucky looked up with a shake of his head, “hello, are you Dr. Wright?” he asked quietly. 

“Yes it is, what do you need?” he didn’t seem freaked out that Bucky knew his name, it was a small town. 

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes,” Bucky started but the man didn’t seem to figure it out, “I am the Winter Soldier- used to be actually…” Bucky added. 

“Are you here to kill me?” the man’s voice shook, “because if you really are him then you have every right to do so,” he stepped back and opened the door for Bucky to walk in. 

“I’m here to talk, you’re not going to die.” Bucky walked in and kicked off his combat boots, he’d heard it’s a thing in Canada to take your shoes off in the house. He also heard there was bagged milk which didn’t make any sense to him, but he wasn’t about to argue. 

“That’s always good to hear, eh?” the accent slipped out again, it was weird for Bucky to see this man who haunted him just laughing. “Would you like some hot chocolate?” Dr. Wright asked as he made his way into the kitchen. 

His house was small, not many walls as one room just faded into another. Knick-knacks littered shelves and tables, everything brought a homey feel to it all, the house was very lived in. “No thanks,” Bucky waved up a hand to signal no. 

The doctor came and sat across from him, Bucky was sitting on a chair while Dr. Wright took the sofa, they both were wrapped in plastic. It made a squeaky sound when either of them moved but it didn’t seem to bother the doctor at all, Bucky one final time before swearing he wasn’t going to move again and hear that annoying sound. Both of Bucky’s hands were clasped in front of him, he felt too large and bulky for this petite chair, his fingers fiddled with each other. He’d pick and poke at the massive gloves he wore, his long sleeve was covering everything he needed. 

“So, Dr. Wright-”

“Jacob, son,” he corrected, “though I am a doctor,” Jacob hesitated, “I go by Jacob.”

“Is that your real first name?” Bucky asked, he was met with a smile and nod, “then call me Bucky, please.” Bucky smiled back, there was a growing tension between the both of them but they chose to ignore it. 

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.” Jacob seemed to relax at the name, he was scared of Bucky and Bucky could tell. This man had seen Bucky train for years on end, and Jacob knew what the Winter Soldier was capable of. “What do you need to talk to me about?” his cane rested beside him, his hand found its way there and just held it. 

“I need to talk to you about Hydra, any information you have on the Iceland base- or any base in Halifax, Iceland, Greenland, and there’s one more…” Bucky brought a gloved hand to his stubbled chin, the leather making a rough noise when it brushed against the facial hair. “Oh! It was Newfoundland, anything you knew about those four places.” 

Jacob thought for a moment, he didn’t have stubble to rub. Though he was old it was obvious he still thought that it was the old days, hair slicked back and a very fresh shave, facial hair wasn’t allowed unless you had grown it out in private. Bucky had always remembered Howard Stark’s mustache; he couldn’t picture him without it. 

“I mean, I was just a scientist, I ran labs and tested things on animals. I didn’t come up with the world ending plans, I was never told the reason for what I was doing, I was just told to do it.” Jacob sounded worried, “when I used to work for Hydra I was worried for my life everyday, they were so paranoid all the time that someone could be a rat. If you said ‘hail Hydra’ a little too quietly then you’d have a bullet between your eyes, I just kept my head down and did what I was told.” Jacob’s hand got increasingly tighter on the handle of his cane. 

“Was there something new they were working on?” Bucky asked, and he pulled out a little flip book to keep track. 

“I quit a total of ten years ago, when I was seventy-one, the only thing they were thinking of was keeping you in their grasp, there was no other plan.” Jacob shrugged, “Hydra couldn’t see a life source without you, they never intended on losing you the way they did.” 

“So you have no idea what they could possibly be working on, at all?” the hope Bucky had was falling, this was the only lead they knew and if all he could say was there was never a plan B, you were screwed.

“I’m sorry Bucky, I really want to help, but I just don’t know.” Jacob stood and walked back to the kitchen. He filled a glass of water and grabbed three pills from a container before heading back over to his seat. 

“Out of the four places I mentioned, Iceland, Greenland, Halifax, and Newfoundland,” Bucky paused and watched Jacob mutter them to himself and then take the pills, “which one is the strongest?”

Jacob swallowed his pills with water, “Iceland.” without any hesitation, no second guess, nothing giving away he was lying for didn’t know. “Iceland was hell for me, it has the best of the best for agents, scientists, and…” he glanced out the window, “cells and tourture.” 

Bucky shot up right away, he headed to the door. Jacob followed him, glass still in his hand. When Bucky was about to leave Jacob placed a hand on his shoulder. When Bucky turned back around the hand traveled along the center of his chest, “I'm not wired, Jacob.” Bucky eased. 

“Some things just come second nature, son.” Jacob kept his head down, “y’know, I never wanted to hurt you. I thought I was making my old man proud, but I never stopped to realize what I was doing was actually wrong.” Jacob looked up with glossy eyes, “I actually wanted to find you at some point because I know I was the one who woke you up last, I remember clearly the way you looked, right then, I knew I needed to leave that place.” Jacob shuffled over and stood completely square to Bucky, Bucky just looked down at Jacob with a face of horror. The man Bucky saw every night was crying and apologizing to him, he didn’t know anyone who worked with Hydra had a heart. “I’m sorry for everything I did to you,” Jacob reached in his back pocket, he had placed the glass of water on a side table. “Here, take some money-”

“No, none of that, Jacob, really,” Bucky held his hands out, “you’re forgiven, don’t worry about all that, I just need to find someone.” Bucky reached for the door. 

“What do you mean?” Jacob fished in his wallet. 

“Hydra stole my girlfriend, I think she's in Iceland.” Bucky’s eyebrows knitted together at Jacob who was given him a coin. 

“I think you’re right,” Jacob dropped the coin in Bucky’s palm before closing the door, the screen door creaked as it shut quickly with the wind. 

Time: 2:33pm

Date: October 2nd 2024

Steve, Nat, and Wanda were walking around on the closed road, stands of every fruit and pastry lined the streets. Wanda was on top of the moon, she had a tote bag with some apple turnovers in them, that was really all she wanted. Nat had actually bought something too, Steve was genuinely surprised when Nat bought some earrings from a vendor, they were very small and dainty moons that would go in her ear lobes. Steve didn’t buy anything but just liked walking around, there was a lot to see but in a good way, no screens or jumbotrons, just people being people. 

As Bucky made eye contact with Steve, Steve’s phone rang. Nat and Wanda rushed up to Bucky and were asking how it went, but the unknown caller was what Steve was focusing on. 

“Steve Rogers,” Steve lowered his voice. 

“Captain Rogers,” an all too familiar voice hit his ear. 

“King T’Challa?” Steve turned his back to the group. 

“We have three Hydra agents in custody, they tried to take out my sister,” his accent flowed and bounced as he talked.

“Keep them in the cells, we’re on our way.” 

“Will there be more of them?” T’Challa asked before he could hang up. 

“I don’t know, but hold them and don’t kill them, they might be our only hope.” Steve said his goodbyes and hung up. 

When he turned back to Bucky and the rest of them, they seemed scared, Bucky had overheard Steve’s call, super hearing, and was looking at him weird. 

“What was that?” Bucky asked. 

“King T’Challa, says there was an attempted hit on Shuri, doesn’t know where they came from but they want her.” Steve shoved his phone in his back pocket, “what did you find?” 

Bucky just held up a silver coin, “we’re going to Iceland.” 

“We need to go to Wakanda,” Steve stepped forward. 

“Not all four of us,” Nat pulled everyone aside from the farmer’s market, “I’ll go with Steve to Wakadna, you go with Wanda to Iceland. We’ll be talking and before you ambush the Hydra base in Iceland we’ll confirm y/n is in there, deal?” She looked to the other three. 

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

Winter Makes Ice tag list: @small-death-and-codeine​ @commonintrest​ @buckyys-doll​  @lil-baby-nor

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[magic-missle-blog]

Ghost division 2 – The belly of the beast

2nd story in what will hopefully be a series. Roughly 6k words. Hope you enjoy

:readmore:

Four missiles streaked through the darkness of space from the canadation destroyer as it smashed through the human battle group.

The warship TDF Glasgow rocked as a missile impacted the hull. Point defence had taken out three others but the fourth slammed into the starboard side.

“Damage report!” the captain shouted as he swivelled his command chair to face the tactical officer.

“The hull plating is scorched and buckled, but no internal damage. We were lucky.” The tactical officer replied, shouting to be heard over the various alarms and beeps in the small bridge.

“We cant rely on luck. If we get hit again its your head!” The captain growled. His hair was cut close to his scalp and a sheen of sweat reflected in the bright yellow light on his dark skin.

Tactical officer Rotchford nodded. Her brow furrowed as she quickly typed into her console. “don’t worry I’m on it, I’ve analysed the firing pattern and I can probably take out most of the missiles, its those fucking fighters and energy weapons I cant do a thing about.”

Just as she finished speaking a swarm of small locust shaped fighters buzzed passed the ship, pelting the armour with energy weapons.

Turrets tracked the fighters, spitting hypersonic tungsten shells. One of the Canidation fighters exploded, the rest of the group took evasive action and continued on the attack run through the human fleet.

The ship rocked again and various alarms clamoured for attention. Lights on the bridge flickered.

Captain Conroy nodded and straightened his uniform. He brought up a tactical display on the console built into his chair.

Five Canidation warships had engaged the fleet of seven Terran defence force destroyers and the humans were loosing badly. The Canidations had the firepower and faster ships. Fighters swarmed over the fleet firing kinetic weapons and lasers, some with great effect.

He watched as another of the fleet exploded. That was the second ship they had lost. The battle had been raging for what felt like hours but in reality it was only 30 minutes. The Canidations had dropped out of hyperspace in this remote system to ambush a Human supply run. The freighters had escaped unharmed but the escort fleet couldn’t leave, not without leaving this Canidation battle group free reign to attack other convoys.

“Shit. That was the Newcastle!” the first officer said “Fleet captain Broadie…he was a good man”

The computer screamed out a proximity warning as another salvo of missiles streaked towards them, but true to her word the tactical officers new point defence programme took them all out. She returned fire with the main cannon as the destroyer elegantly swung around, scoring a direct hit to the Canidations engines. The insectoid ship vented atmosphere and appeared to lose power as running lights flickered out and the ship drifted

The other enemy ships moved towards the remaining fleet.

“Scan that ship, is it dead?” Conroy commanded the science officer as the warship rocked under more impacts

“yeah it appears… Fuck” the science officer said as his console went dark and the lights cut out.

A few moments later the ships emergency power kicked in and the lights came back on, but dull red colour. His console lit up. “ yeah its dead. I think. Scans are all over the place.”

Conroy nodded, as the most senior officer left in the tattered fleet he assumed command.. “signal the fleet. Lets get the fuck out of here...but slowly, I want to draw them away from that damaged ship.” He plotted a course that would take them deep into the Oort cloud of this system.

The remaining ships of the Terran defence force broke off the engagement and retreated. Caught by surprise at the sudden change in tactics, The Canidations stopped dead, recalled the fighters then followed, slowly gaining ground on the slower terran warships.

Glancing at his command console captain Conroy opened fleet wide comms. Signalling the other commanders he said “Listen up people. Once we are in that cloud drop sensor decoys try to buy me some time . I’m going to double back and capture that ship.”

The crew looked at him in astonishment

“Damn” said the first officer. “And I thought today was going to be a quiet day.”

************************************

The war against the Canidations had been raging for 3 months, and the Terran empire was losing.

The Canidations ships were more advanced, and they had the numbers. The only saving grace is that the Canidations were fighting two other larger empires. Humanity, as a relatively new race to the galactic stage, hadn’t been seen as a concern. Almost an afterthought.

No one knew why the war started. Canidations were a reclusive species. They had no trade with the wider galactic community, no embassies, no contact at all. No one really even knew if “Canidation” was their species name. They stayed in their home systems, A group of a dozen or so stars a few light years around the Canadathon, their home world.

A decade ago the Canidations has blasted out of their home system with an over powering military force and attacked a neighbouring world without warning. Everything was a viable target to them and they didn’t take prisoners…or at least they didn’t keep them alive for long.

For ten long years they attacked and destroyed any neighbouring species, expanding their empire. The first races, unused to galactic warfare on such a scale had fallen quickly. Other species had tried to build up their own military force but simply didn’t have the infrastructure in place and couldn’t come close to the Canidations speed of production. It seemed like for every Canidation ship that fell two more would take its place.

The Canidations were an insectoid race, they looked like an unholy amalgamation of a spiders body with a praying mantis torso, like an insect centaur. They didn’t seem to capture any world they won, they destroyed it. Left it a lifeless husk, took any easily accessible resources then moved on like locusts. Maybe they would be back to terraform it later, maybe not. No one knew.

The destruction on such a scale seemed senseless, and completely alien. Not even the best human generals, phycologists or philosophers could come up with a reason for this carnage.

What was known was they had a lot of ships. More than every other military in this region of space combined. They had been building up for decades and it seemed like now was the time to unleash their might.

******************************

The Glasgow had ducked behind a dwarf planet in the Oort cloud and waiting while the remaining fleet had drawn the Canidations away, then used a risky in system jump to get back quickly to the battlefield. They had scanned for survivors of the destroyed Terran ships but unfortunately found plenty of debris but no life signs.

TDF Glasgow slowly drew up alongside the crippled Canidation vessel, comms jammers at full power blocking any communication from the hulk. It had been few hours since the shot had crippled the Bug ship, but it was still drifting without any main power, its engines dark and cooling.

It looked like reserve power had kicked in and there was several Canidations on the main hull close to the breach in what looked like dark space suits, although it could have been their flesh. Conroy didn’t know enough about the species to tell. It was obvious the Canidations were trying to repair the damage.

The insectoid ship was large, at least half again as big as the Glasgow and followed an unorthodox design. It was nothing like the sleek Terran ships, whose lines were reminiscent of the war planes that fought in earth’s skies in the 20th century. Human ships were long and sleek, with swept back retractable wings protruding from the mid section to allow atmosphere flight when fully extended. Canidation was bulky, and looked like a flattened pinecone and close range scans showed it be highly modular.

The bridge appeared to be at on top of the bulky front section. Conroy guessed below this would be weapons, crew quarters and the like. Engineering and the ships drive core, and sub light engines must be located in the tapering end. Cannons clustered around the front with turrets in two rows along the top and bottom of the ship.

Conroy assumed there would be about 60 or so crew on board. Terran destroyers had a crew of 30 plus 10 marines. Not good odds Conroy thought.

“Easy to build, quick to swap different sections out if needed” Science officer McCallum said as he looked over the data.

Conroy nodded to Commander Paulson, the first office. “Pauly, get a boarding party ready. Find any intel you can get your hands on but don’t take any stupid risks. Focus on engineering, medical, ship deployments, shit we can find to kill these things.” Looking at McCallum “what do they need?”

McCallum brought up all the information he had on Canidations, which wasn’t a lot.

“Scans show gravity and life support is still active and the ship has atmosphere, although I use the term loosely. Their air is made up of 30% oxygen, 15% Co2, 10% Hydrogen sulphide, the rest is nitrogen, water vapour and trace gasses. Average temperature is roughly 30 degrees Celsius and humidity is close to 70%. Gravity is low, roughly 0.6G. So basically your walking into a hot sweaty hellhole that’ll smell like Satan’s ass. Enjoy” he finished with a laugh.

Paulson looked at the captain “Gee thanks Boss, you give me all the best jobs. Breathing units all round then.” He saluted as he left the bridge.

“Mac…what killed this ship? Did we get a lucky shot?”

McCallum looked over his reading for a few moments. “Yeah, very lucky. Looks like there is a weakness around the main engine core on this ship. Plasma exhaust has weakened the hull armour in a small area right above the main power linkage, its little better than paper. Must be a design flaw…if that shot had hit even a few meters on either side it wouldn’t have made a dent.”

Rotchford laughed. “luck had nothing to do with it. It’s pure skill.”

She grinned

Conroy rolled his eyes.

“Yeah yeah if you say so” he said grinning. Conroy didn’t mind a bit of banter with the bridge crew. He felt it build camaraderie and they all worked better as a result.

Turning to Macallum he said

“Deep scan this bitch, I see what else you can find, anything that’ll give us an edge.”

From over the other side of the bridge the tactical offer said “Captain, I think I’ve found something too. The missiles on the ship are armed.”

Conroy looked over “So?”

Rotchford brushing her brown bangs that had escaped from the severe bun on her head said “Our missiles auto arm a second after launch to prevent any accidents, these appear to pre arm before launch, Probably as soon as they find a hostile ship. Once direct hit could detonate the entire missile battery. The armour is thick but the launch tubes are vulnerable . “

“Comms” Conroy said excitedly “Tight beam the rest of the fleet and let them know what we’ve found…might give them an edge.”

Turning back to tactical

“Why would they do that?”

Rotchford shrugged. “not sure. It does mean the missiles can be fired much closer then we can shoot. Out missiles travel so fast that by the time they arm they’re a couple of hundred kilometres away, makes them useless for close engagements. By pre-arming them they get around that problem. Makes it almost impossible to shoot them down when the bugs get in close.”

Minutes passed slowly. Soon the boarding party was on board a small ship to ship shuttle and on route to dock with the crippled ship.

The shuttle did a quick fly over the damaged section and fired small arms at the Canidations working on the damaged hull, Killing the repair team. The aliens magnetic grips kept the bodies stuck to the hull like bugs splattered by a windscreen.

McCallum looked up “I’ve found something else captain, it wont help us now but I think we can take advantage of it.”

He put his display on the main screen, All eyes turned to it.

“I thought about using some kind of plasma weapon to weaken the armour of the whole ship, and that’ll probably work, we don’t use plasma tech, but I’m sure the weapons experts back home can build something.” He took a breath “Anyway, that got me thinking, Plasma is basically really hot ionized gas. Its expelled as exhausts right away as too much heat inside the ship it bad. As you know its almost impossible to loose heat in space, so we use active cooling systems to…”

Conroy interrupted before McCallum could go into a lecture on the finer points of starship heat management. “Get to the point”

Mccallum looked sheepish “Sorry sir, anyway, the Canidations seem to use radiator panels, they’re well armoured but vulnerable to excessive heat. A focussed laser beam could overload them. If they cant loose heat they’ll cook inside the ships.”

“Well done Mac, get everything we’ve found so far and bundle the data ready for transmission back to HQ”

Minutes dragged as Mccallum compiled the data.

Everyone was on eggshells, watching the boarding shuttle latch on to the Canidation hull and begin cutting through. Tactical constantly scanning for any Canidation ships that might be inbound. Conroy wondered how the rest of the fleet was fairing. The TDF ships were more manoeuvrable than the larger Canidation warships, so as long as they kept in a dense part of the Oort cloud, dodging comets and dwarf planets then the TDF ships should have an advantage.

*****************************

Inside the shuttle the atmosphere was tense. Paulson looked over the assembled combat team. All had breathing units over their lower faces. The units would filter out the harmful gasses and reduce the oxygen pressure to something breathable, but as they weren’t full space suits or fully sealed Paulson knew the stench would get through, he grinned inwardly he hadn’t told the team what the Canidation air was like, he wanted to see the reactions.

The ten member boarding team all had dark grey combat armour, and each carried a small side arm and a combat knife. Eight also carried an assault rifle with enough ammo to take on a small army, the other two combat engineers carried various tools and computer equipment. Their mission was to hack into any systems they could find and mine it for data.

The shuttle bumped into the hull and latched on. A magnetic tube made an air tight seal around the hatch. It opened to show a sold hull. The engineers immediately started cutting to gain access. It was slow going. Armour that can withstand heavy ship weapons wont easily fail to small plasma torches.

Sargent Waltham stepped up next to Paulson. “We’re ready to go” She said coolly.

Paulson nodded. “Get in and secure the area. Set up fire lines kill anything that’s got more than two legs.” He said to Waltham.

She was tall, blonde, very pretty in hard way. People, especially men, tended to underestimate her due to her looks, thinking she was just a made up barbie doll. Paulson had thought the same thing once, until she kicked his ass in hand to hand training. The first round he went easy on her and he was flat on his back in 5 seconds. The second round he went all out, and to his credit, he managed to last a full 7 seconds before she had him pined, face pressed against the floor and his left arm twisted up his back. Waltham, like all the other,s had earned her place in the combat team, but unlike the men she had to continually prove she deserved to be there. This constant striving for perfection had made her one of the best solders Paulson had ever worked with.

The thick hull armour fell inwards with a heavy thunk. The sound echoed around the shuttle. The stench of rotten eggs filler the small enclosed space and everyone wrinkled their noses.

“For fucks sake… is this ship full of farts?” Jones, the lead combat engineer said.

Paulson grinned. “Ok move out. Slow and steady, I don’t want any fuck ups.”

The team moved slowly into the alien vessel. The interior was dark, smelly and hot, lighting was a deep red that cast odd shadows. Paulson didn’t know if this was normal or if it was due to low power.

Waltham took her place first in line as the engineers cleared the hull and opened a portal to the interior of the ship. She directed one of her team , Ramerez, a young marine on his first away mission , hang back and guard the shuttle just encase they needed to make a quick exit.

Ramerez took position just inside the the shuttle door, he pulled a couple of boxes containing emergency supplies across the entrance and dug in.

The rest of the team followed her lead, with Paulson acting as rear guard, scanning the corridor behind him with a quick practiced eye.

One of the marines whispered in a low voice “damn, this is weird.”

“what is? Looks like a normal ship corridor to me” Paulson said

“sir...that’s what I mean. I expected...well dirt..or tunnels like that old movie ‘Aliens’. You know, the one where the dildo bursts out of some guys chest and all these Marines hunt it down? I mean they’re bugs for Christ’s sake..but this just looks normal.”

Paulson shook his head.“Lay off the old horror flicks. Keep it together”.

Looking at a handheld scanner Jones said “looks like there might be a room down the corridor to the right, I’m reading power spikes, it could be a place I can hack into there systems.”

The team crept inward, the low gravity giving them a bounce to their steps. They were searching for a room with a computer access, but all the could see were long featureless corridors. The came to a junction and as they passed a blast of plasma energy almost took Walthams head off. She Pulled back just in time, lightning quick reflexes saving her life. As it was the plasma shot singed her combat helmet.

Risking another blast, Waltham popped her head around then quickly pulled it back. Three Canidations waited around the corner, plasma rifles at the ready for another shot.

Pulling a flashbang from her belt she leaned out and expertly tossed he weapon into the centre of the group, a second later a loud BANG and a FLASH of bright light lit up the corridor. She could hear a smattering of legs as the Canidations fell back. Her and two of her team ran around keeping low and opened fire. The sound of the assault rifles sounded odd in the dense air. the Canidations tried to return fire but there shots went wide, scorching the metal bulkheads, obviously still blinded by the light. The skirmish was over quickly.

The team crept up slowly to the dead aliens. One in the was headless. Its body twitched, a dark yellow fluid pumping from its neck. The other two were still. Red faceted eyes that took up most of the head were dull and lifeless. Mandibles closed tighter than a vice.

Bullets had ripped the skinny top part of one in half, and the others larger thorax between the spiders-like legs was riddled and leaking the same yellow fluid.

The team looked at the corpses, they were…creepy. They unnerved the humans just looking at them. Jones knelt down and pointed something out. “Look, this one has a couple of cybernetic legs. That one has a cybernetic head…That’s so weird. Gives me the creeps.”

Paulson looked. “Why weird?”

“Think of what this means. They use medical tech to repair wounds. Replace missing limbs like we do. You don’t think of bugs caring for individuals I guess. I assumed they would be like a hive, like ants or termites just mindless soldier’s, disposable and replaceable. Maybe they’re more than that.“

One of the other marines, Patel a tall solid build man with a cold gaze said in a whisper “They’re like spiders, I fucking hate spiders. Normal spiders are bad enough but these are super sized fuckers with guns. “

He shivered as a cold chill ran down his spine. Taking one last place at the dead Canadation he walked slowly past, rifle ready for another attack.

As the team moved on one of the corpses stood up with a clatter. It swiped at a passing trooper with its upper limbs, razor sharp claws sliced across his face and chest, cutting flesh and the scoring deep cuts on his combat armour. He fell back shocked. The headless alien thrashed about, seemingly attracted to the noise the shocked humans made. It tried to reach for another one but a burst of fire from Waltham’s rifle tore through its thorax . the alien twitched again then fell back. She crept up, gun ready and kicked the corpse. No reaction. It was truly dead.

Patel looked a mess, his face had been cut to the bone, but he’d live. Two others helped bandage him up.

“fucking fuckitty fucking spiders! “ he shouted and kicked the corpse, holding his wounded face and blood soaked bandages.

“get back to the shuttle” Waltham commanded him.

He nodded, his face screwed up in pain, The bandages soaking with blood. He got to his feet and headed back the way he came.

Paulson looked at jones “What the fuck?”

Jones shrugged “I’m no medical expert, but I guess a head shot wont kill them. Maybe they keep their brains in there ass or something, I guess the head is just for eating and seeing.” Pointing to the Canidation with the cybernetic head “Maybe loosing the head for them is just like loosing an eye for us? Or maybe they’re like cockroaches. We should drag these things back to the shuttle. Medical back at HQ would have a field day.”

Paulson nodded “team, forget headshots, aim for the centre mass.” He directed a couple of team member to take the most intact body back to the shuttle “Keep it under guard…just in case”

The diminished team made there way deeper into the ship. Paulson was aware of the time he was taking, he knew The Glasgow couldn’t wait forever, but he wanted more than a few dead bugs. Soon they came across an empty room. The door was closed but a kick and a shove and it slid back into the wall. The team entered. Looking around, there was a lot of electronics that Paulson couldn’t guess the function off. Jones quickly set up his scanner. Pulling open a panel he found circuit boards. After quick scan he attached a lead from his scanner to one of the chips.

“If i can hack this, this should give me access” he worked quickly The rest of the team took up positions around the door. Paulson moved to the back of the room and signalled Waltham.

“thoughts? He said after she walked over

Waltham shrugged “they don’t seem too tough. Decent weapons though.“ she pointed to the plasma rifle she’d captured.

“hows things between you two?” he nodded to Jones

Relationships were against regulations but as long as it was discreet no one really minded. It could be lonely in deep space.

Waltham smiled. “he’s sweet, like a puppy. Always eager to please. But utterly fearless too. He could be a great soilder, but likes his gizmos too much.”

“Yeah jones is a good one.” Paulson agreed. He’s been friends with jones for years. They grew up in the same town went to the same high school, and went through training together.

Minutes ticked by. Jones had attached a large data cube to his scanner. He came over to the pair while the data downloaded “. I can copy the full ships hard drive. Shouldn’t take long. There’s not a lot of data, mainly seems to be the ships opperating system. Seems pretty basic. I did find something interesting though, I found ship schematic. We’re not far from a path to fire control. Its down the end of that corridor out there. “

Paulson thought for a second. “no, we have enough we need to get back”

Just as he said that his communicator beeped. It was the shuttle “Sir, get back here we need to go! A Canidation warship is on approach, ETA 7 minutes!”

“Ok people pack your shit up, we need to get out of here! Double time!”

The team grabbed there gear and quickly made there way back into the corridor. Several canidations ran down the steel hallway, the hack had triggered some kind of security protocol. These Canidations didn t have weapons but they moved so fast in the lower gravity that the quickly closed the distance, soon it was a melee, claw against fist.

****************

Alarms cried out for attention on the bridge of the Glasgow. A Canidation warship was closing in.

“eta?” asked Conroy. His calm voice a counterpoint to the frantic activity on the bridge.

“roughly 7 minutes until weapons range. I’ve contacted the shuttle”. maccalum replied.

Conroy nodded. Looking at the helmsman her said “keep that bug ship in between us. We’re smaller and so keep us in its shadow and hopefully they won’t get a weapons lock.”

Nodding, through helmsman fired up the thrusters.

“’ll try time get a target lock on the missile batteries.” Rotchford reported as she programmed the ships turrets.

Captain Conroy starred at the main screen, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the arm of his command seat.

Paulson tried to get a clear shot as a canidaton reared up on its four rear legs. It brought its full weight down on Waltham. Its mandibles opened and snapped closed right over her head. Only her quick thinking and combat helmet saved her from decapitation. She ducked her head and trusting the hardened carbon nanotube and ceramic construction she head-butted the bug right in its open mouth. Mandibles crunched against the helm. The force of through blow and the weight of the bug staggered her for a second, but years of hand to hand training came to her and with a twist and a flick she grabbed the alien and slammed it against the bulkhead. The lower gravity and adrenaline giving her almost superhuman strength.

Her combat knife flashed on the low light as she stabbed the mantis like torso. There was resistance then with a crunch she forced the blade through the carapace. The bug shuddered and wrenched. Flailing its limbs then it was still.

The skirmish was over as quickly as it started. Looking around Paulson shouted “sound off”

A chorus of voices said “here” or “i’m good”

A few troopers took minor injuries but no fatalities.

They sprinted down the corridor. The sound of gunfire brought them up short. The bugs were trying to capture the shuttle. Paulson knew if they lost that they were dead.

A scream echoed down the steel corridor. One of his men had fallen. Canidations pressed on.

“We need a distraction” Paulson shouted to Waltham over the blaring alarms.

“i have an idea. Hold here for a few seconds”

With that she sprinted back the way she came. Moments later an explosion rocked the ship. The lights and gravity cut out, then seconds later they came back on. The unprepared soilders hit the ground but were quickly back on there feet, the Canidations were not as lucky, they were a tangle of legs and claws further down the corridor.

Seizing his chance, Paulson shouting a battle cry and his boarding party fell in the bugs from behind. The battle was short and brutal but they pushed through just as Waltham returned. Her hair was burned and armour scorched.

“What the fuck did you do?” shouted Paulson

“I overloaded that plasma rifle and tossed it in the fire control room. I think we need to get out of here, that room is burning and it’s right next to the missiles”

Once everyone was on board the hatch slammed shut and the shuttle detached then raced back to the Glasgow, just as another explosion ripped through the Canidation warship. A series of smaller explosion’s rocked the ship them with a blast like a supernova the power core blew up. The shuttle was caught in the fireball but escaped with minor damage.

Paulson looked at his and bruised team as the shuttle pilot plotted a course back to the Glasgow.

Paulson pushed one of the Canidation corpses to the side, making down room in the small shuttle. He sat next to the body of a young man, almost a boy. Ramerez. It was his first tour, he was 18 and fresh out of boot camp. Ramerez had taken a plasma blast to the chest. His armour was burned through. Mercifully he had been killed instantly.

************

Conroy watched as the Canidation ship exploded. The shuttle streaked towards the hanger.

“well... shit” he said “get the shuttle on board and get ready to bug out”

calls of “aye” and “yessir” Echoed around the bridge..

The Canidation warship closed in, spitting fire and death at the Glasgow. Point defence destroyed the incoming missiles but the ship rocked from impacts

The Glasgow returned fire, turrets pounded the underside of the Canidation ship as it passed overhead passing through the expanding could of gas and debris.

The helmsman kept a steady course until the shuttle was back in then started evasive manoeuvres, he would have to hold the ship steady for a few moments to allow the hyperdrive to spin up, but the Canidation ship was not making it easy.

“Shuttle is on board. Prepare for Jump in 3...2...1...”

The ship lurched to the side and spun almost 90 degrees, crew members were thrown around the bridge like sticks caught in a hurricane. Alarms blared.

The main lights were down, red emergency lamps cast an eerie glow. Groans came from the crew

Rochford pulled herself back into her seat. Blood running from a head wound. She checked her console “sir..the hyperdrive core has been hit. We’re venting plasma and atmosphere...main power is down. Weapons down....the Canidations are coming around for another pass...”

Before Conroy could respond an explosion tore through the bridge as a missile impacted the armour surrounding the command center.

A ceiling panel that had been knocked loose earlier in the fight fell with a resounding crash pinning Conroy to his command chair and knocking him unconscious. Bones snapped under the force of the impact.

Rochford as the most senior officer left standing opened ship wide Comms “all hands. This is commander rochford. The captain is incapacitated abandon ship. I repeat abandon ship”

She moved as quickly as she could to try to help Conroy, Macallum was at his side trying to move the panel. “mac..leave him. We need to go...” she grabbed his arm “come on...move it soldier” macallum looked at the damaged viewscreen. The Canidation ship was baring down. Any second now it’s main cannons would finish the job. They were out of time.

White hot plasma blasts leaped from the Canidation vessel tearing across the cold black darkness. Promising death to the Glasgow.

A flash and a massive lurch pulled maccalum and Rotchford off their feet, but it wasn’t a weapon impact. It was the lurch of a gravity field forming a few miles away as a ship dropped out of hyperdrive.

A dangerous and potentially fatal move – a single miscalculation could have dropped the new ship right on top of them - but it saved the Glasgow. The rest of the fleet, the few ships that remained had jumped back to help. The TDF New York had jumped In front of the plasma blasts. Taking the hit that would have finished the Glasgow off. It opened up with its main cannons, rail guns blasting the armour above the Canidations missile batteries. Another Terran defence force ship TDF Cardiff jumped in behind and opened up on the bugs with everything it had. The Canidation vessel was powerful, but it couldn’t withstand the combined firepower of the vengeful human warships.

Explosion and explosion, hit after hit. The Canidations withered under the combined firepower and with a final flash it vanished as it’s fusion plant exploded.

The TDF Glasgows communication system beeped for attention. Maccalum moved slowly across

“This is captain Yoshimoyo on the New York. Prepare to receive medic and engineering teams. Your information won us the day Glasgow. All Canidation vessels have been destroyed. This is the first human victory in this war...”

“This is science officer McCallum. “thanks for the help. That was a risky move I owe your helmsman a beer. Captain Conroy has been injured. We don’t know how bad, the ship has taken heavy damage.

*****************

Weeks later Captain Conroy stood in front of admiral Wong.

Conroy had spent most of the time unconscious. His injuries sever, but with advanced medical skill, talented doctors and a dash of luck he had made a full recovery.

“Captain” the admiral began “I’m glad to see you’re back on your feet. I’ve out an official commendation for yourself and your entire crew. The information you fought so hard for will prove invaluable in this conflict”

Wong continued “The data contained ship specifications, technical manuals, training documents and recent fleet movements. With that information we’ve managed to push the Canidations back in a number of theatres , you and your crew have saved thousands of human lives. We all owe you a debt captain.”

“Thank you sir...i'm eager to get back to the Glasgow sir, to get back in the fight.”

The admiral shook his head

“I’m afraid not Conroy. The Glasgow was heavily damaged and will require months of repairs and refit. We can’t have a seasoned crew out of action for so long. You and your crew are being reassigned.”

Wong passed a pad to the captain

“Our newest, most powerful warship. The TDF Lucifer. You’ll be part of a task force – the ghost division. The Canidations are throwing more and more ships against us, and while we’ve slowed the advance to a crawl we are still loosing. You’ll go behind enemy lines and fight a guerrilla war. Do everything you can to bring the bugs down. Everything is a viable target, including the Canidation homeworld. Teach them to fear the wraith of Earth.”

End