#it's right up there with the wheel & string & heck language

[this-is-my-main-i-follow-from]

Grains that make spirits, they are so cool

Rye: makes rye

Rice: makes sake

Corn: makes bourbon

Barley: makes scotch

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

souls stripped bare

Happy New Year’s Eve, y’all!

When - starts maybe a half hour after ‘A measure of reverence, Part 2′ which takes place in Season 2, the morning of “Chupacabra.” This story is a bridge to the afternoon of the episode where Daryl gets badly injured and hallucinates Merle.

What - after all that goes on, you and him cannot shake the feeling that you’ve seen each other stripped bare, right down to the soul.

Relationships - Daryl x reader. You help him through a freak out, he physically carries you.

Perspective - it’s Dixon’s POV this time. We see your thoughts once, but he’s got the wheel for this one

Genre - heavier. Souls are getting bared here

Pronouns - she/her

How much time will I need to read it? - depends, but there are ~5,680 words

Should I read all the other stuff in The Slowpoke Series? - oh heck, yeah!

Which ones if I can’t binge all the chapters rn? - the ones directly referenced but not too necessary to reread are Quarter!, There’s also a bar., and Ain’t nothing..., and the stories that will help a lot with context are It was a pragmatic cigarette, and What were your nightmares about? and of course, the chapter directly before this A measure of reverence, Part 2.

(Trigger warnings are below for space)

TWs - Daryl has something of a panic attack, there’s discussion of break-in and subsequent fatalities including that of minors, discussion of killing in self-defense and of guns, foul language, fighting, mention of ‘putting down’ walkers including that of minors, reference to child abuse (Daryl’s scars), and there’s a part where Daryl recognizes the pattern that sometimes occurs in those who have been abused where they may in turn also develop abusive tendencies.

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

Him

The other two people got a shallow grave out back with a rock as a place marker and a simple “I don’t know how it all works, but I hope you had some kind of repentance,” out of her. He would’ve left them out to rot or maybe tossed some lighter fluid and a match on them to send them to hell faster.

“They don’t deserve even a damn hole in the ground, Y/N,” he’d said to her when he saw what she was doing.

“It ain’t about ‘deserve,’ man.” And sure enough, she’d dug their damn hole in the ground until her shoulder gave out and her side started bleeding again, so he grit his teeth and finished it for her. Why, he wasn’t sure of.

As for the family, Y/N had carried the baby out first, wrapped in a blanket, then the toddler. He’d carried out the old woman first. They kept them together. How they got the others out was a blur, but he knew that at some point he busted the side-door open and soon he was digging.

The garden had been tilled real good, so there weren’t any roots or rocks to deal with, just the overgrown vegetable plants.

When her arm gave out again and she couldn’t use it anymore, Y/N trudged off to the well to refill their water bottles.

It was right after that when he’d started fucking bawling, and by the time Y/N had gotten back, he still hadn’t stopped.

Slowly, she used her good arm to rub her hand across his upper back and rested her head against his arm.

At some point, he was sitting on his ass in the dirt smoking a cigarette. She’d given him some space for that and, apparently, was gathering up what dead chickens there were and giving them a teeny little grave, too, if her dragging each one with the shovel to that spot by the birdbath and scraping a hole with her foot wasn’t his imagination.

When he was done blubbering like a kid who scraped his knee, that’s when he finished digging the grave for the family.

She brought out a cross that had been hanging on the wall inside, a handful of those prayer bead necklace things, and a blanket that had the Mexican Mary lady on it.

She laid the blanket over bodies after putting a string of prayer bead ropes with each family member. He noticed she pocketed some extras.

Then, together, they covered the family with dirt.

Her hand curled around his and she offered some words that sounded like she was familiar with their type of praying.

Their fingers ended up laced together. Why, he wasn’t sure of.

After the people walkers were given that ‘measure of reverence’ and ‘put out of their misery,’ or ‘laid to rest,’ whatever you wanna call it, Daryl shoved the cross into the ground and secured it with some rocks before storming back into the house.

There was some kind of alcohol in there and he was gonna find that shit.

He checked all the upper cabinets to start, and the first bottle of something useful he came across said ‘p-u-l-q-u-e.’ He didn’t know what that was or why it looked like curdled milk, but it was there, so he uncapped it and chugged some down while pacing back and forth.

This thick, syrupy, sour milk and beer flavor assaulted his mouth and cleared his nostrils.

He kept pacing. Y/N leaned against the counter opposite him and gagged after having a swig of her own.

Another cigarette, that’s what he needed, fuck.

He pulled out his pack and meant to light up, but when he saw his…

His fingers.

His fingers were so…oh my God, they were covered. Shit—his hands, his forearms, his everyth—fuck, fuck, he was filthy, he was—he was covered in dirt!

Her voice sounded far away. “Daryl, what’s wrong?”

Oh God, oh God, his whole body, everything was filthy, fuck, fuck, he needed to get it off! It was all over him, he needed to get it all off—

“—Whoa now, it’s all good,” her voice cut in again. “Honey, come with me, I got ya. Sweetheart, come with me, we’ll wash it off.”

When exactly he’d made his way to the sink and started trying to scrub with a dry sponge, he couldn’t remember.

“Daryl, no, no, with me. With me, baby, this way,” that gentle voice cut in again. “There’s a rain barrel outside, it’ll be nice and clean, c’mon. You got this, man, it’ll be okay, we’re gonna get all off.”

She was cooing like he was a three-year-old and he didn’t even care, he just needed to get clean!

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

You

You didn’t think you’d see Daryl Dixon ever panic about dirt. To be fair, you didn’t think you’d see him panic about anything. When he stumbled to the sink and started rubbing his skin raw with the dry sponge, you pried it away, grabbed a dish towel and soap, and lead him through the side-door to where the rain barrel was.

That at first he’d flinched and swatted and drew back from your hand guiding him clued you in further that he’d been treated very badly once.

After he wrenched off the rain barrel’s lid and began to frantically wash up, you gave him his space and stood guard.

You avoided looking at him because when you did, you had the oddest sensation as if his soul was being bared to you against his will.

The most fitting way you can best describe it was as if you’d accidentally walked in on him naked.

On that topic, he yanked off his button-down (one of his only shirts he hasn’t cut the sleeves off). You picked it up and shook the dirt from it.

Now, he was still wearing that worn, yellowed, stained tank that had been his brother’s, but because the straps were so thin and the tank he was in fell lower than Daryl’s do, you thought you briefly saw more tattoos and what looked like…it looked like either bruises or scarring on his upper back.

You checked yourself and avoided looking but wished you could avoid thinking about what you saw. It was just another piece of evidence to how bad things once were for him.

It truly felt like you were seeing pieces of his soul that he wanted to keep hidden, that were meant to be protected. You felt so unbearably close to him, it was insane.

Not two minutes passed before your poor Daryl bent to the side and threw up in the pachysandra.

You rinsed the dish towel in the barrel, delicately pressed it to his neck, then gave him space again.

Besides, you needed a bandage on your stitches and maybe a clean shirt and some painkillers. Going back to camp bloodstained would worry people.

And, those were some Coronas you saw hiding on the top of the fridge, right? Those would help your friend calm down and get the sick taste out of his mouth.

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

Him

When he stopped bugging the hell out, he saw that his shirt was folded and set on a lawn chair. He pulled it back on only to discover a bunch of buttons were missing. He stared at his hands, now clean. Scrubbed red.

That morning at the CDC when Y/N kept wiping her hand because she felt like her friend’s blood was still on it popped into his head. The sweet one, Andrea’s little sister, what was her na—Amy. Amy’s blood.

He ran his fingers along his palm to prove there was no grit on there, it was just him bugging out. He looked at his fingernails where he’d scoured every bit of grime from underneath to prove they weren’t still jammed with dirt, it was just him bugging out.

One final splash to his face and he headed back into that house.

Y/N was inside the kitchen, holding an unopened a beer (where the hell she find that, I need one) and looking at all the pictures. There were a lot of family photos. Old ones, new ones, vintage ones. A bunch of what was probably saint stuff.

She turned and sat at the table table. “My eldest sister said pulque was really good fresh, in its defense.” A nod at the beers and the ‘pool-kay’ bottle. “Sit?”

No argument there. He chugged down the can she handed him in one fell swoop before throwing it when that sumbitch decided to screw with him and suddenly be empty.

He felt like Y/N just walked in on him with his boxers down or his back exposed or something, fuck.

Ugh, then his stomach started to churn again.

That was half the reason why when, after tossing a glance at Y/N, only to see her looking at him all pitiful like he was some crying child, got him barking “How are you so—calm? You just had to put down f-fuckin’—” he wouldn’t say the word ‘kids’ and couldn’t say ‘and a baby.’

Her jaw tightened and she took deep breath.

Then another.

The ticking from Dale’s watch and the sounds of the breeze and birds outside filled the silence. Tick, tick, tick, tick.

That broken, soft answer of “I thought you knew I’ve had to do it before, man,” made him forget to breathe for a sec.

The tick, tick, tick, tick got louder.

His brain told him to crack open another beer and slide it to her.

One corner of her mouth lifted but she looked drained. “Very pragmatic.”

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

He heard his pulse thudding in his ears.

His friend took a few gulps from the can and stayed quiet.

“Was that what made you want that cigarette and a drink?” he asked carefully, trying to sound as nonabrasive as he could swing it.

His friend shook her head. “Mama had done it for a ch…for a child, out of necessity twice before I ever had to.” She squeezed her eyes shut as if the memory physically hurt. “Remember how unreal it was findin’ out how other than a blow to the brain, injuries and conditions what no one could ever survive meant nothing to a walker? S-so even if a cure came along, they’d all be dead just the s-same?”

“Can’t forget it.”

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

“We—she—laid them to rest after that, once they’d died. One of our foster kids caught it early on. We kept her in a room after she’d died and turned. Then a neighbor’s kid we’d taken in ’cause his family turned, he’d been bit. When he turned, we put him in there, too, until we found out that it was just the virus usin’ their bodies, that their souls had moved on because they’d died.”

Through her shut eyes, tears made their way out. “But it was when my-my middle sister and,” she swallowed and squeezed her eyes shut. Her lip wobbled. “Um, all them, my brother-in-law, the kids, they all caught it and died and turned, so Shane and Mama and I had to…” her gaze darted up to meet his for a second and she didn’t finish the statement, she just shrugged.

“But that’s not why you were tryin’ to get out of your head the other day?”

“No. That was—” Like she did when she was nervous, she started babbling and stuttering a little. “I-I had gotten reminded of a…bad thing I had to do. An, an objectively bad thing I had the moral obligation to do, you feel me?”

‘An objectively bad thing’ she had ‘the moral obligation to do.’ Sounds like something the old man would say.

“It was two, or, maybe three weeks after what we had to do for my sister. Right before we were gonna go with the Grimes to Atlanta. Tried to go to Atlanta.” She licked her teeth and huffed, a sure sign she was mad. “Can you believe they fuckin’ firebombed them? Wh-what did they achieve with that? All those lives…”

“Less of a crowd to evacuate,” he muttered back. “Fuck the fed.”

“Fuck the fed.” Y/N had another sip of beer, then slid the can back to him. “It was two days before that when, um, Shane and me had g-gone back to the house, we’d been—it doesn’t matter, but, um…”

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

Did she realize she was tapping the table over and over and bouncing her legs? A heavy exhale came before she mumbled, “I did promise I’d tell you, didn’t I?”

All the agitation or whatever the hell was going on with him before fell away and in its place was this urge that his friend not be hurting anymore. “You don’t have to, it ain’t like that.”

“A deal’s a deal, a promise a promise,” she tried to joke.

“M’serious, Y/N.”

“Me, too. You trusted me with your story about bein’ lost in the woods for over a week when you were a little kid, I can trust you with this. Ain’t like it’s a big secret, it’s just…what it is. We all got at least one story like it nowadays.” She gestured around the room, not really looking at anything. Her eyes looked glazed over. “When Shane and I got back to the house, it had been broken into, just like here. Mama and the dog were dead.”

His initial reaction was to push the beer back to her and avoid looking at her.

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

Now it made sense why she kept wanting to knock and call and wait yesterday and today before they went into houses.

The weirdest thing started to happen.

He felt as if it would be doing something wrong if he looked at her. It was as if she were, like—he didn’t know how to word it, but it was as if she were naked, so he shouldn’t look.

Like that expression he’d heard about somebody’s soul being “beared” or “bared.”

After another sip, Y/N placed the beer can to the side. “She must’ve been in the early stages of being sick when she was killed, just like some of the people here. We found her walkin’,” Y/N explained simply, avoiding all eye contact. “Had a big old wound this side of her chest.”

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

“The guy whodunnit had shut himself in the bathroom, turns out. Mama had got him with her shotgun, but she—not even with buckshot, she fuckin’ had it loaded with birdshot ’cause she didn’t want to kill, just fend off.”

His friend’s eyes suddenly grew wide and she covered her face. “Oh fuck, I’m insulting my dead mother for bein’ a good person, what the hell, dude?”

“Hey, nah, no way.” He sat up straight, put his hands on the table, and didn’t have to think before telling her: “You ain’t insulting your ma, you’re just mad she got offed like that.”

She didn’t move a muscle, but she did sniffle out, “Yeah, I love you, too, man.”

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

Daryl knew she said those words to the others (and seemed to actually mean it), but that was the first time she’d said it to him. His heartbeat started to pound in his ears loud enough to drown out the tick, tick, tick of the watch.

He took another gulp from the can and pushed it back to her. That she wanted her gun out before going inside made sense now, too. “What happened to the bastard?”

She took another sip and pushed it back to him. “He jumped my brother.” Y/N was starting to sound out of breath. “It was right after Shane took care of our mom, we’d seen the mess, then saw her snarlin’ for us. We, w-we didn’t realize the perp was still in there, rookie mistake, and boom the guy was on him and, I, um—it was all over in a few seconds, and—”

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

The hand she had covering her eyes flopped to her lap.

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

She finally looked at him. He couldn’t tell if she was still angry at herself or just sad, but she did try to crack a joke. “Sorry, it ain’t my intention to be all dramatic. At the rate I’m baring my soul down to its skivvies, one of us will have to buy the other dinner.”

“You already owe me dinner,” he reminded her with what may have passed as a one-sided smile. Y/N probably didn’t even remember how she’d awkwardly cracked that joke back at the CDC after she, um, didn’t realize she had her damn boob pressed against his hand while getting his blood sample. “Guess I’ll cover the next one.”

The corners of her mouth did raise a little bit, to his relief.

“To finish up what happened,” she slowly said. “I reacted quick and took care of it before he offed my brother, too.”

Reacted quick and took care of it…‘Took care of it’…

Y/N killed him. Y/N had to kill somebody.

His memories shuffled back to the quarry when she was giving the kids that lesson about throwing punches and all that. “You don’t look like you should be teachin’ no fight club,” were his exact (joking) words to her when she’d asked him to help because she hadn’t actually punched someone before.

Never punched someone, yet she’d had to…damn. He took another sip and drained the last of the beer.

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

He hadn’t had to kill a living person yet. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, but it was prolly gonna happen sooner rather than later.

Shit, he didn’t know what to say and now the beer can was empty so he couldn’t push it back.

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

When he managed to look up at her, her hand was back over her eyes.

Quietly, she drove home that “It was done to protect somebody, Daryl,” as if she were defending herself. “And we buried him, we still gave him that.”

“You did what needed doin’, Y/N.”

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

She stared at the table and tried to nod. Looking at Dale’s watch, she sighed, mumbled “We should oughta go,” and stood up from the table, tossing the empty cans into the recycling bin in the corner (nah, really, she dead-ass sought out the bin with the little hand-drawn recycling sign).

Then, always trying to lighten the damn mood, she added, “If I unpack anymore baggage in here, I’ll have to spend the night.”

Joke’s on him, that comment made him remember what he’d found. “Wait, the shed—come with me, lemme show ya.”

Backpack on, she followed him out the door and into the yard. “What was in there?”

“Little sleeping area between some bins and the wall, had a tarp coverin’ it, too.”

“Dude, are you serious?” Y/N squealed, jogging ahead of him and throwing the shed door open with her good arm.

“Right over here, see back behind those containers?”

A swallowed groan when she moved the wrong way came before what sounded like a happy sob when she saw the little sleeping area. “Are there any more signs? A trail, a, a—”

“—Depends on if she was here before or after the damned storm yesterday. Let’s look around the fruit trees first, she woulda eaten from those and the garden.”

“Daryl, we dug up the garden.” That terrified look came back to her eyes and her voice rose and the babbling took over. “D-did we ruin our chances of findin’ her? It’s my fault, it’s my fault, I insisted on bury—”

“No, we’d still find a trail leading away from it,” he cut in, hoping to stop that shit in its tracks. “Nothin’s ruined, Y/N, and you sure as hell didn’t do nothing wrong. Trust me.” He pointed in the direction of the grave. “The family was owed at least that. One little measure of reverence. Now let’s go look for more signs of our girl.”

Before exiting the shed, she paused and got distracted at the tool display on the wall. “Guess that’s where the perps got the bolt cutters.” There was an outline around a hook that showed the same size and shape as that big pair she’d found by the hatchway. “I’m bringing ’em them back for Teddy, he said he wanted a pair. Back when he was still in the city, he almost got caught by walkers when he was cornered by a fence.”

And the two of them began the search once more.

She followed him for a while, but branched off when nothing was showing up on the property.

They scoured every damn inch of it and the surrounding wooded areas, but there was nothing concrete. The vegetables or fruits could have been eaten by animals or fallen off naturally. The long grasses and the muddy area by the well that should’ve shown something definitive didn’t show shit. Sophia wouldn’t have left heavy footprints, she took up less space, moved lighter than most.

As more time tick, tick, ticked by, it felt as if the air was turning more and more thick. Felt like it was walling him in or smothering him.

He kept looking back at the gravesite and got more and more jumpy, kept looking around the trees and expected to see another chupacabra or a herd of geeks.

Y/N’s scared look didn’t go away, either, it got worse, and she started to seem more and more out of breath, got more and more sweaty, kept bending more and more toward her injured side.

It was when they happened across another dead chicken in the wooded area by the house that she spun around and leaned with her good arm against a tree as she dry heaved.

“Daryl,” she panted, clutching her side again, “Let’s go to the ridge, she wouldn’t have stayed here .”

His thoughts exactly. “This place would’ve scared the shit out of her.”

“I just need me a sec.”

While she caught her breath, doubts and all that stuff he didn’t want to think of started to smack and hit and whip their belts and switches against his back.

You ain’t gonna find her, alive or dead.

You failed at the one useful thing you’re supposed to do.

She’s dead because of you.

You as good as killed that little girl.

The little cot in the cupboard of that farmhouse could’ve been from anybody.

The little sleep area in that shed was probably from the kids who lived there, playing.

You ain’t found shit.

Merle’s gone and you’re all alone again because you couldn’t find him, neither.

By the time they got back to his bike, he began to question if Y/N would even be physically able to climb up the ridge.

She looked awful, plain and simple. She couldn’t seem to use her injured side to hold onto his shoulders while they rode, neither, so was holding on with just one hand as he drove.

But he was getting too desperate and set on making it up there as soon as possible that he didn’t say nothing about it. Those fists and belts and switches hurt, and they kept beating at him over and over.

When they got as far as they could go on the motorcycle and needed to continue on foot, he was feeling almost postal. Getting angry was a hell of an easier emotion to let through rather than crying again.

As for passing on the blame? Saying shit he knew was cruel? That started happening whether he consciously wanted it or not.

And so, that his friend was visibly in pain started to not bother him as much as it probably should’ve.

Soon, it didn’t phase him at all.

Time was running out, so Y/N had to suck it up. She chose to come out today, she chose to dig and carry and do all that stuff she shouldn’t have, she made her bed and was lying in it.

So when she cried out in pain when trying to use her bad shoulder not two minutes into the climb, it was like a fuse blew.

“Just get on the bike!” he exploded, ignoring her trying to pass it off like nothing just happened, and rushing himself down the embankment to the point that it was basically controlled falling.

“Whoa, Daryl, what’s going on?”

“I’m gonna find that little girl on my damn own. I said I needed a horse to get up there, and a horse will be a hell of a lot less annoying and a hell of a lot more useful.”

“Why would you s—why would you say that to me? Where’s this comin’ from?”

He heard himself and how he sounded and he hated it, but didn’t seem able to control it from coming out. Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, sto—“You’re slowing me down and I need you gone. You already wasted enough of my time and Sophia’s time back at that house with all that bullshit.”

Why was that annoying bitch still climbing? He almost climbed back up so he could yank her back down—and all at once, the very truth that he just considered that action scared him.

Why would that have crossed his mind?

“Daryl, just help me up there, we’re here,” she pleaded.

Why did she sound scared, too?

Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop his brain again tried to tell him.

Yet, after Y/N swore, yelped, and slid onto her knees down a particularly steep bank, he twisted the knife instead. “See? I can’t babysit a fuckin’ liability, get on the bike!”

If an actual bucket of cold water was thrown in his face, he wouldn’t have known the difference when she grit back at him, “Go on, keep runnin’ your bitch mouth, Ed.”

She just compared him to—him?

Nah.

No fucking way. He w-wasn’t like...shit. Please, no. Not him, he wasn’t like him, he wasn’t like Ed, he wasn’t like his dad, fuck, no, no, no.

Daryl knew plenty about beaters but he himself wasn’t one of them, he wasn’t. Right? He wasn’t gonna turn into that.

No, no, no, no, no, he was not like him.

But as angrily as he wanted to cuss her out, his ability to respond drained. “That supposed to make me feel bad, scare me or somethin’?”

“If I wanted to do that, I’d just throw some dirt on you,” she had the audacity to spit out, but it still wasn’t as cruel as he’d just been.

That’s when he finally registered that he was watching a dark stain spread wider and wider where she’d gotten stitched up. It’s also when he realized she was wearing a different shirt than before because that one had gotten bloodstained, just like yesterday.

His mind shut off for a second.

It turned back on, he blinked, and saw that she was trying to get up, but couldn’t, not without shaking from how bad it must’ve hurt.

He had to look away after that weird feeling came back that he was seeing her without clothes on.

Y/N started trying a new tactic, inching down the incline while seated on her butt. She was being ridiculous. She was bleeding, she needed help.

“You got a bandage?” he called quietly. His anger was gone.

Hers was not. “The fuck do you care?”

It felt like a slice to his chest, but he accepted it and said nothing back at first. He let his eyes venture up to see if she was making any headway. What he found was her shaking, sweaty—it was too much, way too fucking much. He needed to make her pain stop.

Asking if she ‘wanted’ help would lead nowhere, she hated feeling like a ‘liability,’ he knew that. Asking if she ‘needed’ it wasn’t much better, but his friend liked honesty and that wording would be more likely to keep her honest. “Y/N, d’you need help?”

He heard her swallow a whimper. When he looked, he saw that she slumped where she sat on the ground.

It took her a few moments, but she admitted, “A little.”

So, he walked to the incline, feeling weirdly like he’d just blinked out of the kind of nap you take when you have a fever. He avoided looking at her for too long when reached her and crouched to help her stand. Hopefully, the angle he lifted her from wouldn’t hurt her more, the way he’d done his best to do last night and on that day at the CDC.

As soon as she was upright, she pulled away from him, he pulled away from her.

But when she tried to step down by herself, her knees buckled—and he caught her without really thinking about it. Then, he lifted her up and started to carry her without really thinking about it.

It was an almost immediate reaction for her to stiffen, wriggle, and squeal “Put me down!”

Immediately, he set her on her feet and backed off.

“I didn’t mean to fuckin’…” His anger tried to perk back up, but fell flat. “I didn’t mean to scare ya, Y/N.”

“If you throw out your back, then neither of us is any use.” There it was again, he recognized. She had this thing where she’d push herself too damned hard because she needed to feel useful or whatever it was.

“I won’t throw out my back,” he said to her.

What was the name for the emotion that was kicking his ass? It was like this really, just, unbearable…closeness. He wanted to help her. She was hurting, so he wanted to make it stop. He needed to make it stop.

“I wanna help you,” he told her quietly.

And her responses were getting weaker, which was a good thing. She needed help and she knew it. “Y-you’ll get sweat and blood all over yourself, man.”

He almost smiled when he asked her point-blank, “Think that’ll bother me?”

To that, she made half-hearted giggle, if you can believe it. And she nearly looked at him with that tiny smile on her face, but then she looked down and closed her eyes instead. Her posture slumped again.

“Y/N,” he murmured. “Please. Lemme help you.”

Her head turned to the side and she covered her eyes when she had no other option but to whisper, “Okay.”

Carefully, he walked close again and lifted her in his arms, her bad side against his chest. Using her good arm, he guided her hand to grip the back of his neck for more support.

He felt the thud, thud, thud of her heartbeat against his chest. Felt weird. Not a bad weird, but…he didn’t fucking know, man.

Carefully, he maneuvered down the steep incline.

He kept on carrying her after they reached more level ground, until she lightly tapped him and gestured to be put down.

Carefully, he placed her on her feet. Quietly, she thanked him.

They walked apart from each other. That awful closeness made it feel like there was a string tied in between them. Weird shit.

Once they got to the bike, he asked her to wrap her good arm around his waist so she wouldn’t fall off. She grabbed the sissy bar instead.

He isn’t sure why but he spat before starting the ignition and speeding off, but he knew that he wanted to both get and stay angry at her but simply wasn’t able to. That awful closeness wouldn’t let it.

In its place, the helpless feeling of desperation came back with an extra portion of guilt, plus a new feeling that was a whole lot like confusion.

Y/N had just seen him full-on crumble and need someone to help him out of it. He’d just seen her completely vulnerable and need someone to help her get up from it.

It really felt as if they’d seen each other naked. As if they were stripped bare right down to their souls, if he still believed in those.

These past few days, it’s like the two of them had somehow gotten fused or welded or maybe branded together? Jerry-rigged together with old planks and nails and zip ties was probably closer to it, but that’s what it looked like when he thought about it. It was so fucking weird.

At a sharper turn in the road, Y/N held in a groan and finally hugged his waist with her good arm and adjusted her thigh on her good side so it acted like a hook on his leg. Her forehead pressed to his back and he felt her breathing. He made a point after that to drive slower so the ride wouldn’t hurt, hopefully, at least.

They reached the farm and he slowed down to a crawl once they hit the gravel. Still, it was too much motion and she hobbled off the bike and began to walk. He tried to help her, but only ended up with his hand brushing along her forearm.

He turned off the engine and walked the bike the rest of the way alongside her in silence.

Once they were close enough, Sophia’s ma Carol waved at them from the campsite and stood there, seeing yet again that her daughter still hadn’t been found.

The air started to close in on him again.

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

He slammed down the kickstand and left his bike where it was. All of this was too much and he needed to get that horse and get back to the ridge, ASAP.

“Daryl, wait.”

“What?” He spun around and would’ve glared if he was able. The invisible string tugged.

She shrugged her bookbag off her good shoulder and slung it on the ground, then knelt down to unzip it.

“Take it,” she muttered, and held out one of those kid walkies. Her green one. “Glenn’s got the yellow one, she’s got the pink one,” she let him know, gesturing to Carol.

Without a word, he took it and slid it into his pocket.

“Sweetie, you’re bleeding, a lot,” came that woman’s scared, quiet voice.

Y/N visibly shrunk down in what looked like defeat. “It looks worse than it is. There’s another bandage over it, now, it’s okay.”

“It’s not from a…?”

“No, this ain’t a bite, it’s just my stitches.”

“You probably popped them.” Carol shook her head and helped her stand. “Let’s go see Hershel. Daryl, are you hurt, too?”

“He found something at one of the places we checked,” Y/N changed the subject while letting herself be escorted to the farmhouse. “It looked very plain that somebody little had been in there.”

Which seemed to do the trick because Carol gasped and clasped her hands together and pressed them to her mouth.

Daryl only grew more desperate when he saw the look on her face. He couldn’t fail that woman, he couldn’t fail her little girl. No way, no fucking way.

“I’m headin’ to the ridge now,” he told her, standing taller. “If she’s in our grid, she’s comin’ back home this afternoon.”

Tears flowed up and out of her eyes, but he wasn’t sure if they were happy tears or something else.

At that moment, he hated himself. If again he didn’t find Sophia or at least another sign…

“Please be safe!” Carol whimpered. “I’ll be praying for you.”

Y/N’s exhausted “Honey, don’t die, don’t get bit,” was the last thing he heard, and it made him feel as if the damn string was tugging around his middle and drawing him backward.

So, he booked it for the stables. It was time to steal a goddamned horse.

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

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[noritoshiikamo]

valedictorian student gave her professor blowjob to get a better grade (gone wrong!)

a part of Jujutsu Hub collab, check out the rest of the works from other talented writers. thank you @suna-reversed​ for letting me be part of this! pairing: modern au! professor noritoshi kamo + student fem!reader genre: 18+ smut, minors dni warning: thread slight ahead, coercion, exploitation through power dynamics, dubcon, manipulative behaviour (both characters), humiliation, degradation, male receiving oral, penetrative sex, voyeurism, creampie note: the obligatory trio of mine: unedited, lowercase intended and english isnt my first language im sorry if i murder it. tagging: @fushigurocockslut , @sukirichi , @sassyeahhhh, @unabashednightmarepizza, @dok-ja, @chososupremacy, @cotton-curse, @lazy10ieiri have fun

check out a fanart of professor kamo: here

“professor kamo!”

the mentioned didn’t even bat an eye, legs moving faster while focusing on his phone and the cup of coffee in his hand. she grunted, speeding up her pace until she was directly behind him. a waft of his perfume hit her. this man smells expensive; a walking daddy issue reminder.

unlike her other professors who are as old as her own father, her thermodynamic professor is young, probably few years older than her. a random guess because no one knows his actual age or whether he’s single or married or anything. all they knew was he was transferred from kyoto and that his family’s name is a famous for something she couldn’t even remember anymore.

physics department of university of tokyo was buzzing ever since his transfer.

except maybe for her technical mathematics professor. she bit the inside of her cheeks, holding a smile as she thought of professor gojo satoru. she wouldn’t mind a bite of that. her thoughts halted when her face slammed straight onto his back. a string of curses escaped his lips as the coffee spilled slightly over his coat, annoyed that this student still followed him despite him actively ignoring her. they stopped right in front of his office; she was too engrossed in her thought she didn’t even realise it.

“you better have a good goddamn excuse for disturbing me.”

she watched as he unlocked his office, not bothered to hold it open for her and headed straight for the desk. he removed his jacket, undoing a couple button of his white shirt and rolling the sleeves up. all while his eyes stared boringly up and down her body. she started to feel conscious of her look, clearing her throat as she quickly crossed her arms across her chest. she picked the wrong day to wear her new skirt that fell just above her knees.

“are you going to continue to daydream in my office or are you going to tell me what you want trailing me like a dog, miss l/n, isn’t it?”

he glanced at the name sheet on his table, the way her last name rolled out of his tongue went straight down her spine. he sat on the chair; the wheels squeaked at the sudden weight upon it. she ignored the shudders, dropping her bag on the floor before occupying herself on the chair in front of the simple hollow wooden desk. she could see his legs crossed from where she sat, and her mind wondered how easy it would be for her to crawl through.

“miss l/n? is this going to be long? i have a meeting in 30 minutes,” he pointed to the opened laptop in front of him.

she startled, “uh yes, i have a couple issues with you, professor kamo, if you don’t mind. firstly, since when do you release our carry mark out in public like that? it’s a private information, i don’t see other professors doing it.” the world doesn’t need to know her name and her 69% carry mark with red letters and all when she clearly knew she aced the midterm. unconventional but everyone in his class got a leaked pdf of the midterm the night before and she personally knew that it was right because she was the one who leaked it. not that she told people that it was her doing but heck, she should’ve been right above the 75% passing mark.

he shrugged, “i only released carry mark of people that's below the passing mark. just a reminder for them to work hard on the upcoming finals. no harm in that.” she gritted her teeth at the way he looked so smug.

“only my name is not covered and censored, professor kamo, that’s a breach of my privacy, so there’s a harm in that,” she protested, pulling her phone out. she unlocked it, opened the photo, and handed the professor the proof. it was right, only her name was uncensored while others had their names blacked out with only student ids available.

she was the only student in his class in the failing mark.

“like i said,” he offered her a smirk, throwing gasoline straight into her burning wound, “it’s a reminder for you to work harder, miss l/n. thermodynamic isn’t even hard. i don’t know why you struggled when most of your classmates passed easily. you have 7 weeks till finals, right?” she nodded at his question. “maybe you should drop my class. i would approve your unenrollment, no harm. but it would affect your transcript this semester. your choice. anyway, would you mind? my meeting is starting early.” he pointed to the door, a silent and kinda polite get the fuck out of my office while he wore his wireless earbuds and turned his attention to the laptop.

she stared at the man in disbelieved. the audacity of this man to just tell her to drop the subject which she knew for a fact that she had high carry mark.

“y-you can’t do that? it’s inappropriate for you to force your students to drop a class because of your own incompetency. i have higher marks than that stupid cunt with her stupid tits out in every of your class and you are telling me she got fucking 80%?” she slammed her hand on the table, sending a couple of his stuff flying. she could hear a couple rumbling from his earphone asking if there’s something wrong and he turned his attention towards her. he wasn’t exactly mad, maybe slightly annoyed.

“stupid cunt with her tits out?” the amusing look on his face and his little chuckle made her wanted to crawl over the desk and choke the living out of him. he snapped his finger and glanced on the name list, “ahh, was it emma?”

“yes, who else?” she snapped, “but it’s only appropriate for me to call her cunt. you’re her professor. unless- huh, nevermind. but you know, i’m not that surprised.”

professor kamo snorted, pressing something on his keyboard so loudly she wouldn’t even surprise if he breaks something, “away, 5 minutes,” he said before pressing the button again. he let out a harsh breath before leaning back in his chair, “i feel like you’re insinuating something i don’t associated myself with.” she gave a bitter laugh, hand pressed to her chest as she leaned over the desk.

“you look cute when you act stupid. everyone knows emma slept with all of her professors. she’s a long friend of mine, we know her motives. you don’t need to feel so high and mighty. you’re new, it’s okay to be emma’s little fuck toys.”

he pinched the bridge of his nose, lips pressed thin as he let her words sunk in. should’ve taken the directory board position, noritoshi, should’ve done that instead, his mind rambled.

“fine,” he lifted his shoulder in a half shrug as he leaned forward, fingers intertwined, “i’ll give you two options. i will either report you for this wild accusation you’re throwing at me right now, or you leave my office, drop my subject and i’ll forget you ever dare say shit like that to my face.”

“or?” her brows shot up.

“or?”

she scoffed, “there’s always a third option. what is it?”

“get,” he squinted his eyes, this time she knew he was on thin ice as he jerked his head towards the door, “out.” he didn’t wait for any response or reaction from his student, just shove his earbuds back in and continued with his meeting. she could see the heavy clenching on his jaws, and she fought to urge to let out a final couple words. he’s not worth it, y/n, let it go¸ shouted a voice from the corner of her brain. she stood up, grabbing her bag before heading for the door.

“i’m back. just throwing some trash out.”

her movement halted. she gritted her teeth and contemplated. she knew reporting him without any proof would just be useless. it would be his words against hers. if she was going to fail this subject, might as well make it worth. emma shouldn’t be the only one having fun here.

she let go of the door handle and glanced around. he was still engrossed with his meeting and some paperwork, and he looked just so inviting. his office was slightly dimmed and quite private, being the furthest from the busy stairs. locking the door, she dropped her bag and tossed her hair back out of her face. on one hand, she was going to get called out for her lack of regard for her school responsibilities and on the other, she was about to seduce her professor with the mind blowing blowjob of her life with the man of she never thought she would. there was a unique mixture of fear and arousal in her right now. he didn’t even realise she was still in the room until he felt something on his legs.

“what th-”

she tightened her grip to his thighs. “shut up, or i’ll scream,” she threatened, her fingers looping around to undo his belt buckle. there was a little smile on her face as she unzipped his pants down. through the reflection of the mirror behind the door, he could see her underneath his desk; her hiked-up skirt, her pretty lace panties on the show. “there’s always a third option, professor kamo,” she was slightly surprised to see that he was actually half hard in her hands, “never knew talking about emma and her tits got you going, prof. was it her tits or was it my short skirt?” his grips on the edge of the desk were whitening, his eyes darting back and forth from the laptop and her face nuzzling on his cock.

you okay, noritoshi? you look like you’ve seen ghost? one of the professors in the meeting raised a concern. “yeah, uh, just the lighting in my office. i look slightly pale,” he fought the urge to moan, when she replaced her fingers with her mouth, with each passing second, his arousal taking over his guilt. “hold on, hold on,” he hissed as he scrambled to mute the meeting, succeeding but with a painful cost of her squeezing the base of his dick harshly.

“nuh uh, that’s not how this game works, professor. keep your mic and video on. for every 5 minutes you manage to control yourself, i’ll take a piece of my clothes off,” he watched as her fingers slowly unbuttoned her shirt, shrugging it aside revealing a skimpy bralette that barely hold her breasts in. noritoshi was breathless, kneeling between his legs, teasing his cock is his own beautiful student, only in her bralette and skirt and that long boots that accentuated her legs. he nodded, agreeing to her term.

“oh, and one more thing. you’ll fix my fucking score. it’s really a win-win situation,” she flicked her tongue against the reddening tip. his dick twitched and she could see his pre cum slowly oozing out of the slit. “if not, i’ll scream and we’ll see how it goes.”

“you’re a stupid cunt,” he hissed as her mouth enveloped his tip, humming in agreement as she gripped his thighs. she was completely taken off guard. this was supposed to be a simple seduction in attempt to fix her score but instead now she was finding herself actually turned on from dominating her professor. her tongue pressed flat against his length, her head going up and down in such an excruciating pace, his hand immediately went down. it was easy to pull her tits out of her bralette, she let out a little mewling as his fingers rolled her nubs roughly, occasionally a little slap or two against her sensitive mound. he glanced at the clock, excruciatingly waiting for that 1 more minute mark so he could have her remove her skirt off.

he wasn’t focusing on the meeting anymore. there was a tiny part of noritoshi that wished he could stop but the rest of him was determined to see his student’s nose crushed against his pelvis. he didn’t need to ask as her eyes locked on his own as she forced herself down to the base. he felt her little gagging, but she pushed through. his face reddened with the loud sound of her throat clamping on his cock, the squelching and her moans echoing his room. with his cock deep in her throat, he watched as she unzipped her skirt, tossing it aside.

his fingers grabbed hold of her hair, eagerly thrusting his hips upward. he caught her hand running down her belly, slipping into her panties, her lidded eyes and her moans intensified, as she pleasured herself. his cock slipped from her lips, she struggled to catch her breath, giving her aching jaw a break while concentrating on her cunt for a bit. she panted in barely controlled lust.

“panties,” he murmured below his breath and she nodded eagerly, removing the thin material soaked in her arousal. then she was down on his cock again. his head was buzzing, with her tight throat clamping on his cock again and the sound of her pussy squelching around her fingers, it was absolute heaven. soon, she was fucking herself so furiously that she temporarily lost control of herself. her sucking became more forceful; her moaning became loud grunting. he sat there motionless, cock aching to be buried in her cunt as her orgasm hit her and his head spinning.

her eyes widened as he pulled himself out and stood up. “what the fuck? ouch!” she screamed as he pulled her out of the under table, fingers laced in her hair as he tossed her on the table. confused, she startled when she realised that the meeting was still on and the 15 different screens of different professors were looking on her. her tits and cunt were put on display and her face warmed when she realised, she recognized a couple of her own professors.

professor gojo, especially, seemed interested in the lack of her clothes.

her fight or flight kicked in and she pushed herself up to run and hide but his hand pressed on her back and he roughly pulled her head up. she fought the urge to break down. her body shivered at the feeling of his warm breath on her back, her bra unclasped, and she was completely bare. professor kamo laughed, one of the earbuds transferred from his ears and she could listen to the murmuring of the different professors.

“ahh, and i thought nori was lying when he said he got a student sucking him off,” came from professor geto.

professor gojo was giddy, “oh i love her, she’s in my tech math class, y/n i think. she has big brain and an even bigger pair of titties.”

“you guys are being disgusting.” a female voice interjected.

“don’t hate us cause you ain’t us, utahime,” professor gojo snickered, “hey kamo, maybe if you’re done with her, drop her off to utahime, she hasn’t had pussy in a while.”

“fuck off, satoru.”

noritoshi nuzzled against her, his warm breath tickled her ear and when she tried to move, he only held her tighter. she could feel his wet cock resting on the valley of her ass. she tried to open her mouth, building her courage to scream but his hand covered her mouth instantly. “nuh uh, that’s not how this game works,” he teased, landing a hand on one of her plushy ass cheeks. the vulnerable feeling overwhelmed her, and only deepened the pit of desire in her belly.

“tell me, do you think i didn’t know what you’re doing coming into my office in that piece of cloth you dared call skirt? you think you’re manipulating me, sweetheart, how stupid can you be?”

she shut her eyes close when his fingers ghosted between her legs. the whistling and yelling came from the earbud invaded her mind reminding her that she was being watched; a quiet whimper fell from her lips as her professor parted her soaked slit. so, she did lie when she said professor gojo was the only professor she fantasized of doing; she couldn't pretend anymore that she’d not fantasized that many nights under the covers with the company of her vibrator thinking about being spread apart by him. she just never thought it'd be like this. and in front of a lot of spectators. her whole body felt hot.

“you’re right about emma, she got big tits but she could never get 80 in my class. i swiped her mark with yours, i know you’ll freak out,” he explained, an amusing smile etched on his face when she let out a shaky moan as his fingers circled her clit. a wave of shame washed over her, his touches intensifying the throbbing desire to be fucked right now.

“you see these people,” he let go of her mouth, moved to grab her jaw forcing her to look down on the screen, “all of the professors here, we all had a bet going. which one of our students can be bagged and fucked into our personal little cum slut for the rest of the semester? i mean it would be easy for me to go with emma, she sleeps around but where’s the fun in that when i can get a scholarship holder like you? what would the board said when they realised a future valedictorian graduate like you seduced her professor for higher marks?” she let out a choke sob, humiliated at revelation. she thought of how easily she fell in his trap few hours ago.

“i won’t tell anyone, please, i need my scholarship, my parents will murder me if i get kicked out,” she cried out, head back desperately begging for his mercy. she ignored the teasing remarks and the whistling, ignoring the warmth spreading all over her face and neck.

“sounds like someone agreed to be a teacher’s pet,” professor mei mei interjected.

noritoshi tilted his head, brows up in question, “so, what do you say, buttercup? it’s really a win-win situation.”

his hand moved back to the front of her neck, squeezing lightly as he pushed his palm on her lower back. her ass jutted up; legs spread giving the camera a nice view of her soaking cunt.

“i-i don't know-” she whimpered; the corner of mind hesitating while the other had her gasping at the feeling of his cock running along her slippery slit.

"you're this turned on,” he emphasised on his word as the tip of his cock slipped easily into her entrance, “you can't even think straight, can you? let me help you decide, okay?” he nipped just below her ear as he thrusted his hard length inside her. an appreciative moan escaped her mouth, enjoying the way her slick walls clamped down desperately on him. “pro-professor kamo!” she gasped, and he tightened his grip to her neck as his hips snapped backward and back in, giving her barely any time to adjust herself. the stretch burned but after a while it had her eyes rolling backward.

“i think she should play with herself,” a voice commented.

“what do you think, sweetie?” he hummed, planting a kiss on the crook of her neck. his other free hand travelled to her chest, giving her breast a quick squeeze. his thrusts slowed down sending her eyes wide opened as she looked back at him.

she nodded eagerly, “p-please let me touch myself, professor kamo.”

he glanced to the camera, a smug smile on his face, “i think she finally get the game,” she listened to the murmuring of agreement before he nodded, giving her the permission to touch herself. “you’re not allowed to cum, however. i’ll know if you fake it or pretend not too, so don’t test me,” he whispered down on her ears, a little something for her only.

he returned to his mean pace, over and over, his thrust gradually getting faster, with the angle of their position had him slamming directly into her g-spot every time. even from the camera they could see the slick running down her thighs. the way her tits bounced with every thrust, her desperate whimpered and tears running down her face had some of the audiences pulling their own pants down.

he couldn’t help but to grin when he realised, she was meeting his pace halfway. “it felt good huh?” he teased, tightening his grip to her waist, thrusting harder than before. "yes, professor, it feels so good when you fuck me like that," the sound of their skin slapping resonated loudly; they didn’t give any thoughts of whether anyone walking around could’ve heard it.

“cum-nghh, please,” she couldn’t control the mewls and whimpers that escaped her mouth, desperately clenching around him. she was lost in the smell of him, drowning in the smell of sex circulating the room. it wasn’t helping that his mouth was against her ear, breathing and moaning heavily occasionally whispering how much she felt so good on him, how he was so desperate to fill her up and loving how full she looked with the little bulge on her belly.

“you think you deserve to cum?”

“yes, professor,” she battered her eyes, “please let me cum.”

“are you going to show them how full you’ll be when i fill you up?” he questioned, his lips jutted a little with a little begging look which she ate up quickly, nodding enthusiastically. oh, how his little pet was so obliging and eager to please. twisting her head back, he pressed his lips on her with her little tongue imitating the movement of her hips in a rhythm. just like her, he was desperately close to cumming; god knows how he deserves to fill up his student. he started bucking frantically, loving the feeling of every inch of her tight, hot cunt. he could feel his own orgasm building with each long, hard thrust.

“cumming, fuck, fuck, professo- i’m-”

she couldn’t even make out a proper sentence, her own moan interrupted herself as the long awaiting waves of orgasm crashed through. she could feel her cunt clenching on his length as she came, and it wasn’t long until her own professor came undone. he bit down on her shoulder, grunting heavily as he continued to thrust, feeling spurts of his warm jizz filling up her tight cunt.

it took them a couple of minutes to recover, breathing heavily with his dick still buried in her. he had to clear his throat before any words would come out, his voice was so dry. “fuck, come, get on the table, show them your pretty little cunt,” his hoarse voice ordered, she whimpered at the empty feeling of her cunt but eager to please as she sat on the table. with her legs spread open and the laptop in the middle of her legs, her sweaty back resting against his frantic chest, their audiences watched eagerly as his cum dribbled down her aching cunt down her ass and onto the table.

he brushed the hair off her sweaty face and looked into her eyes. she could see her freedom fleeting away from the smile on his face, sealing the fate of her scholarship and her future in his hand and his dark eyes glinting eagerly as they listened to their praises. she was too tired to brush them off, desperately to flick a finger to the camera but she could barely move. she was putty in his arms, his finger hooked her chin up, their eyes met.

“good job, miss y/n,” professor kamo praised, patting her cheeks gently, “i think you earned a little extra mark for that initiative.”

[teacupfulofstarshine]

living in the real world (ain’t it fun) CHAPTER 5

cw: panic attack, mild angst, brief nonspecific mention of car crash/injury mention

word count: 2721

chapter one // chapter two // chapter three // chapter four // read it on ao3!! 

“This . . . is a problem I hadn’t considered,” Thomas says, squinting at his car. It’s a small model, built to seat a maximum of five, so the amount of people won’t be an issue. It’s the existence of the people that poses a threat. 

“It makes sense logically,” Logan says, even though his hands tighten white-knuckled around the straps of his backpack. “We cannot be seen or heard by other people, but they can feel us when they touch us. Additionally, things that we touch do not immediately become imperceivable, with the exception of the clothes in which we manifested. If we use the seat belts installed in your car, someone may happen to glance into the backseat and realize that the belts are buckled with no one there.”

“But we’ll be there,” Patton argues. “We will be in the car, and we are not riding without seatbelts! What if Thomas gets into an accident?” 

“Thomas is a safe and cautious driver. The likelihood of an accident is minuscule,” Logan says. “Also, we are not real. I doubt that a car crash would seriously impact us.”

“And if you’re wrong?” Patton says, shoulders pushed back, a challenge in his voice. “If we get into an accident and one of us gets hurt? What if it hurts Thomas? We already know that if one of us gets hurt, everyone else can feel it. What happens if you break your arm, or your leg, or your neck? Will that injury translate to Thomas?” 

Logan flinches, and Thomas steps in between them. Patton’s face is starting to shine a strange red-and-purple combination, which Thomas interprets as angry and anxious. (Smad, his mind supplies, and he chances a quick glance in Roman’s direction to see him stifling a giggle. He knows where that thought came from, he supposes . . .) 

“You both make good points,” Thomas says. “Patton’s right about the injuries, and Logan’s right about not letting you guys get spotted by other people.” 

“So what do we do?” Logan asks. He’s staring very intensely at Thomas’s shoulder, rather than meeting his eyes. 

“It’s not uncommon for people to seat belt stuff into their cars, right? If they’re worried about it breaking?” Thomas pulls the trunk open and lifts out the picnic basket and reusable shopping bag of Logan’s experiment supplies. “If you guys sit with your legs spread and put this stuff in between your legs, it could probably be reasonably argued that I’m just trying to keep stuff from spilling all over my backseat.” 

“Genius,” Patton says, and his face glows a deep yellow with happiness and pride. “That’s perfect, kiddo!” He reaches up and ruffles Thomas’s hair. Thomas grins, leaning into the touch. Logan smiles at him, gently rocking back and forth in place, and Roman huffs out a soft laughing noise. 

“Alright, guys, into the car,” Thomas says, pulling the door to his backseat open. “Go on!” 

Patton and Roman insist on sandwiching Logan in the middle seat. “The smallest person goes in the middle so that the bigger ones can bracket them safely!” Patton insists. 

“I am not that much smaller than you,” Logan grumbles, swatting at Patton’s shoulder. “I do not have to be in the middle! There is far too much human contact here for my liking.” 

“It’s not that far, Logan,” Thomas says, turning the key in the ignition. “We’ll be fine, yeah?” 

Logan continues to grumble, crossing his arms and hunching in on himself. Thomas very deliberately does not mention that Logan’s actions make him look even tinier than he already is. (It also makes him look more adorable.) 

Normally, Thomas is a cautious driver; he’s not really in the habit of making extraneous payments to insurance or the hospital or the mechanic. Now, with three of his sides squished into the backseat and muttering to themselves (as though he can’t hear their every word ringing loud in his mind, they’re pieces of him, everything that they say is known to him even if he can’t directly hear it), he bites down on his lower lip and checks his mirror once, twice, three times. 

“Are you actually gonna drive?” Roman asks, leaning forward and bumping his forehead against the headrest of the passenger seat. “Cause there wasn’t really a point in fighting about seat belts if we never actually go anywhere.” 

“Hush, you!” Patton hisses, smacking his shoulder. Roman whines and slumps back against the seat, loudly complaining about his injury. Thomas just smiles and shakes his head; the barely-there sting of Patton’s smack is already fading off his left shoulder. It wasn’t a serious injury at all. 

He takes a deep breath, shifts the car into reverse, and pulls out of the garage. Roman reaches up from the backseat and clicks the garage door opener to close it once they’re safely in the street, and Patton reaches forward to yank him back into the backseat. Thomas just shakes his head, wondering if this is what his parents dealt with when he and his brothers wouldn’t stop fighting in the backseat.

The nearest park is only five minutes away, but Thomas quickly realizes that that would be a bad idea, to put it mildly. That park is frequented by children, families, and couples almost constantly, and is almost always teeming with life. “Bad idea,” he mutters, pulling past the park. “I know I said it wouldn’t be very far, guys, but I think I’m gonna have to amend my previous statement. Is that okay?” 

Logan makes a disgruntled noise, but when Thomas starts to put the car in park he shakes his head. “It will be fine, Thomas. I will endure what I must for the sake of science.” 

“There’s another park that’s further away, but it’s old and abandoned. Lots of run-down fields, and it’s surrounded by an old forest. It’s probably haunted as -”

“Language,” Patton mutters preemptively. 

“Heck,” Thomas finishes, “but that also means it’ll be empty. We can roam around freely.” 

“Sounds good,” Patton says. “I think that’s gonna work out just fine! What do you think, kiddos?” 

“Sounds good,” Roman says, pushing his hair back off his face. Logan just nods, and as though he thinks Thomas won’t catch it in the rearview mirror, he slides his hand between the seats and flashes a thumbs-up sign. 

“Great,” Thomas says. He presses on the gas pedal and heads past the playground. 

*~*~*~*~*

The road to the old park is narrow, two-laned, and framed on either side by trees. At night, especially in the winter, the road is incredibly creepy. The trees reach up like skeletal hands, and even now Thomas is perpetually petrified that one day, they’ll reach down and snatch his car off the road and throw it like a child with a broken toy. 

He doesn’t have such fears in the summer, when the skeletal branches are wrapped in soft, leafy green shrouds. The sunlight dapples the pavement, and Thomas watches the way the patches of sunlight scatter across his dashboard as his car rolls down the road. “Roman,” Logan says, voice pained, “please refrain from distracting Thomas with flights of fancy while he is driving. What will happen if the car is run off the road?” 

“I’m sorry!” Roman whines. “I can’t help it!” 

“You can, and you will,” Logan mutters angrily. Patton makes a soft shushing noise to them, and Thomas flexes his fingers around the steering wheel. His gaze shifts from the pattern the sunlight makes to the other car approaching him along the opposite direction of the road. He steers a little farther away from the median line, towards the shoulder. 

They pull into a rundown parking lot, macadam overrun with cracks and weeds. The car rattles over the uneven pavement, and Thomas winces as Roman smacks his head against the ceiling. “Are you guys okay back there?” he calls. 

“Fine,” Roman mutters, rubbing his head. Something uneasy tingles in the back of Thomas’s mind. “Can we get out of the car now?” 

Thomas slides neatly into a parking space that’s outlined by faded off-white paint. “We’re there.” Roman climbs out of the car without taking his assigned bag with him, leaving Logan to scoop it up while Patton deals with the picnic basket. Roman yawns and stretches backwards. Thomas hears an audible crack in his spine and feels a similar relief in his own back. 

Logan slings the backpack over one shoulder and hoists Roman’s assigned bag over his other one. “You okay, Lo?”

“I am alright,” Logan says. “I will be sufficient to carry these things to the experimental site. It is not far.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“You have been to this park before, have you not?”

“I have . . .”

“I know that you have. I am your logical functioning, Thomas. I also encompass your memories. I was examining them in the car, and I have discovered a place that I think will be suitable for our purposes. We will not be disturbed, and we will not disturb others. It is rare that other people frequent this park, and I have selected an ideal spot.” 

“You’re sure this will be okay?” Thomas says. Logan nods, flicking his hand up in a complicated sort of summoning gesture. Another blue light schema appears in front of him, displaying a random string of numbers that somehow makes no sense at all and perfect sense to Thomas. 

“I have run the calculations, Thomas. We will be perfectly safe. We must go and begin the experiment now.” 

Logan shifts the bags in his arms, and the schema disappears as he heads off across the park. Patton turns to Thomas, smiling. “You ready, kiddo?” 

“As I’ll ever be,” Thomas sighs. He feels a tugging burn in the pit of his stomach, and he looks up to see that Roman has set off across the park. He’s getting farther and farther away, and Thomas quickly picks up the pace to try and catch him. 

As he gets farther away from the car, closer to Roman and Logan, the tugging burning wrongwrongwrong feeling increases. He turns to see if Patton is lingering, but Patton is right next to him, bouncing along and humming the theme to a cartoon he’d been watching this morning. Thomas reaches the curb and almost shrieks when he tries to step up onto it. He’s running into the invisible wall again, just like last time, but he feels different. 

It feels as though there is a fire lit in his stomach, licking up the sides and curling through his intestines and esophagus. He’s all but choking on the feeling of wrong wrong wrONG WRONG YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG SOMETHING IS WRONG YOU HAVE TO TURN BACK NOW YOU HAVE TO GO BACK - 

Thomas stops, coughing and pressing a hand to his throat. “Thomas?” Patton asks, crouching next to Thomas (when had he knelt on the curb?) and placing his hand on his shoulder. “What happened? Are you okay?” 

“Something’s - something’s wrong -” he chokes out, clutching at his chest. “Logan - Roman - where, I - they can’t - they have to - please, please -”

“They’re coming,” Patton promises. “They’re coming back now, I'm calling them.” Thomas flicks his eyes up and barely manages to notice that Roman and Logan are pressing against the air like they’ve just run into a concrete wall. Patton flails his arms around, and they start coming back. 

“Please -” Thomas chokes, and it feels like his fear has solidified into a golf ball and lodged itself into his throat. “Please -!” 

Someone touches him, and Thomas flinches. “It’s okay,” Roman murmurs, and the hand on his shoulder begins to gently massage the back of his neck, where a tension knot is almost surely forming. “It’s okay, Thomas. Your prince in shining armor is here, and I promise that I will protect you.” 

Another hand, this one gentler and cooler, on the side of his neck, moving to his forehead and his cheek. “Thomas, you are having a panic attack. You must breathe deeply with me.” Thomas stutters out a hyperventilated gasp, and Logan exhales. 

“Thomas,” he says softly. “Please list five things that you can see for me, right now.” 

Thomas gasps, and Logan presses his cool hand against his forehead. “Thomas,” he says. “Five things that you can see. I know it is difficult, but please try. This is a grounding technique that will prove beneficial.” 

“Um - uh - I - wh - c - curb?”

“Good job. Four more. You can do this, Thomas.” 

“P - pants.” His hands curl up and ball the fabric of his pants into fists. 

“Three more.” 

“Uh . . . uh . . . p - pavement.” 

“Two more,” Logan says. His voice is shaking slightly, but his hand is steady and grounding on Thomas’s face. “You can do it, Thomas.” 

“Sky,” Thomas manages, flicking his gaze up. 

“One more,” Logan says. Thomas’s eyes skitter around the sky until they land on the branches framing the sky in his field of view. 

“Th - the - I - tree.” 

“Good job, Thomas. Excellent. Now, four things that you can feel. Tactile stimulation, not emotions.” 

“Your hand,” Thomas manages. “On my forehead.” 

“Good. Three more.” 

Thomas manages to list three more things that he can feel (the wind in his hair, Roman’s hand on his shoulder, the rough surface of the macadam against his knees). He lists three things that he can hear (Logan’s voice, guiding him through the panic attack; birdsong in the trees; Patton’s worried breathing behind him). He lists two things that he can smell (the cologne Roman had spritzed on himself in the bathroom this morning; the picnic lunch that’s sitting next to Patton). He lists one thing that he can taste (the lingering taste of his toothpaste from this morning). 

“Good job,” Logan says. The tremor in his voice is gone, if it was ever there to begin with. Thomas isn’t sure that it was real; he may have imagined it. “You have successfully made it through this panic attack.” 

“What happened?” Roman asks. “Are you alright? We hit the distance limit wall, and we turned around and you were on the ground. What happened?” 

“I - I’m not sure,” Thomas says. “I . . . one minute, I was fine, and then I saw you walking away, and . . . and suddenly it was like my heart was lodged in my throat and I couldn’t breathe. It was like, if I didn’t get you right next to me immediately, I was going to throw up or die or - I - I don’t know.”

“So now we know there are physical ramifications to our distance limit,” Logan says, pulling up his schema. 

“And emotional,” Patton shudders. His eyes and freckles are fading from purple back to their normal cheerful brown. “I . . . I can’t quite explain it, kiddo, but there was some kind of emotional component to that breakdown you just had that - I don’t know who it was, but - but it wasn’t me. I felt it, but I wasn’t controlling it, you know? It felt like someone else seized control, and I was just being pulled along for the ride.” 

“Who else could take control from you?” Thomas says. He’s still breathing a little too heavily for his own comfort, but Logan is patting a four-seven-eight on his thigh with his free hand. “Aren’t you the seat of all my emotions?” 

“I’m your heart, Thomas. I’m at the core of a lot of your feelings, but not . . .”

“Anxiety!” Roman scowls. “That foul villain, he must be somewhere!” 

“He cannot be here,” Logan says dismissively. 

“And why not?” 

“Because if he were here, he would have to abide by the same distance limitations as the rest of us. It is almost impossible for him to have followed us all this time without being seen.” 

“I guess you’re right,” Roman grumbles. 

“Shall we proceed with the experiment?” Logan says. His eyes gleam brightly, more than just the reflected light of his schema. “The more information I gather, the better handle we gain on the side effects of our presence in this world.” 

“Let’s go, then,” Thomas says, pushing himself to his feet and pretending his knees aren’t shaking a little. “Knowledge is our most powerful weapon, right? Isn’t that a thing people say?” 

Logan looks like he might combust from pride and joy. He settles for happy-stimming so vigorously he nearly falls off the curb. 

[floatingpetals]

Call Of The Mountains || Ch. 4

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes (Werewolf AU!)

Warnings: Nothin, a little bit of language

Word Count: 3300+

Summary:  (Werewolf-AU!Stucky x f!reader) Life had begun to overwhelm her. Work was insane and her life was a mess. There was a tug in her soul that called her to take this trip, deep into the forest away, where there was the peace and stillness of nature. She didn’t know why, but she knew she needed to listen. It was meant to be a relaxing trip, but one misstep on some moss sent her tumbling into the rapids of the flooded river. She thought she was gone and the earth decided it was time to reclaim her. She didn’t expect was to be pulled from the river nor the creature that saved her. Her entire world is turned upside down and all it took was an accidental step to the left. (18+ Only Story)

A/N: Fuckin’ FINALLY. I had this done for a while but an idea popped up in my head that I had to go and rewrite b/c it flowed better. It took a while to get to this point, and while it’s a little dry(sorry ya’ll) I needed to build it like this.  I hope you all enjoy and thank you for being so patient! Let me know what you think!! Enjoyy! ❤

The gifs are not mine, credit to the owner.

Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5  | Series Masterlist

Y/N woke up in pain. It’s probably because I had to throw up the water in my lungs, she thought bitterly. It was an awful pain that she never wanted to relieve again. The next pain that ranked up there in the worst pain she’s known was the thrumming in her head and the excruciating pain in her wrist.

She groaned, her uninjured hand reaching up to feel the back of her head. She winced at the tender flesh and could feel her pulse through the spot on her head. Strangely she felt little plastic like strings- stitches she realized. That couldn’t be right.  

That dawned on her that she was laying on something too soft to be the grass in someplace too quiet to be beside the river. A flash of black and vivid gray shot across her memory, the shape fuzzy and strange.

Blearily, Y/N opened her eyes. She was alarmed, but also incredibly confused that she was sitting in what looked like a doctor’s office. The walls were bare apart from a beautiful portrait of a mountain in a dark frame. Pulling her gaze from the picture, she looked around the room to take the unassuming room in. The door clicked open and a woman with blazing red hair stepped in.

She glanced up from the clipboard in her hand, rooted in spot when she saw Y/N awake and alert. A look of relief washed over her face and the woman went to shout down the hall.

“She’s up!”

Y/N frowned, her heart rate picking up as the panic began to settle in. She had no idea who this woman was or even where she was for that matter. Nope, not good. Her eyes darted to the window and back to the door before she looked back at the woman.

“Oh, hey. No, it’s okay. I’m a friend I swear.” The woman soothed and grabbed the little stool on wheels next to a set of cabinets. She rolled it up next to the bed, her eyes soft but wary. “My name’s Natasha. You’re in our medical cabin where you were brought after you were pulled out of the river. You were in pretty rough shape. You had a gash on your forehead that needed to be stitched up and your wrist has a pretty bad fracture.” Natasha explained. Slowly, she reached out to Y/N, ready to pull back in case the young woman panicked further. “I’m going to help you sit up, okay?”

Y/N nodded, thankful for some help while her body trembled from the shock of it all. Careful of her wrist, Natasha helped her leaned her back against the wall and swung her legs out in front of her. As she did that, a man with a white coat walked in. He greeted Y/N warmly with a smile before he went to the sink to wash his hands.

“Good to see you up.” He said. “We were getting worried for a second there.”

He grabbed a pen from his coat pocket, a little flashlight she realized when he clicked one end, and stepped up in front of her.  He instructed her to look at the light to check her pupil's dilations. Once satisfied, he turned and carefully took the IV drip from her arm and bandaged it up before she had time to blink. 

“I’m Dr. Banner, but you can call me Bruce.” He grinned. “What should we call you?”

“Y/N,” She replied softly. She winced at the burn in her throat. Bruce noticed and motioned for Natasha to get her a cup of water.

“And what year is it?”

“2019?”

“Correct. Well Y/N I wish we could have met under better circumstances. But I’m happy to report that you’ve lucked out and don’t have a very serious concussion. You’ll probably be good here in a few days, but I still want to check in on your progress from time to time.”

“O-okay?” Y/N said uncertainly. She took a sip from the cup Natasha handed her, still utterly confused. “Um… Where am I exactly?”

“Oh! You’re in Blackhollow, just a little way north of the reserve. We’re the closest place that has the facilities to handle your situation, so you were brought here.” He responded from the clipboard Natasha walked in with. Y/N’s face scrunched in confusion, both with who could have brought her here and where Blackhollow was.

She had gone over the map of the area countless times until she was certain she had it memorized. Absolutely nowhere was there a place called Blackhollow. Especially not north of the reserve. That she knew for a fact was all protect lands and there shouldn’t be places like this around the area. No one was allowed to break the land and build something here. Biting her tongue, Y/N watched the two warily, sipping on the water to hide her nerves.

“I’m sure you're curious about the state of your wrist right now,” Bruce began, setting the clipboard down. “Natasha can you go grab some pain meds for her while I do that? Oh, and let Bucky know our patients awake.”

“Sure thing.” Natasha was already up and out of the door faster than Y/N had time to process.

“Wait, who’s Bucky?” She asked Bruce, who was now pulling out a set of x-rays from a folder. It caused her to pause, wondering when the heck they did those on her. “And how long was I out?”

“Bucky was the man who found you and pulled you out of the river,” Bruce explained and slid the x-rays on the lightbox. “And you’ve only been out for a few hours. We were about to have to get you in a car and take you to a nearby hospital to get you checked out if you didn’t wake up sooner. Fortunately, that didn’t need to happen.”

“Oh,” Y/N murmured and eyed the x-rays. “H-how did Bucky find me?”

Bruce shrugged, seemingly unbothered by that lack of information.

“He never said. Just that he pulled you out and brought you here. Although I am curious, how did you managed to fall the river?”

Y/N felt her face grow hot from embarrassment. She might be fuzzy on certain details afterward, but she definitely remembered that. Positively humiliated, she mumbled her story of how she was dive-bombed by two stupid birds and practically threw herself into the river to not lose an eyeball. Bruce at least tried to hide his grin by turning back to the x-ray.

“Well I’m sorry that happened but I’m glad you’re okay.” He said sincerely over his shoulder. “Let me go over your x-ray and then maybe Natasha will be back with some pain meds by now. I didn’t want to give you anything in case you were allergic.”

Y/N nodded and slowly stood, mindful of her wrist as she pushed off the bed. Bruce kept a careful eye on her, watching for any signs she might have a dizzy spell from standing. Her head hurt, well more like throbbed because of the concussion, but she didn’t want to throw up because of the spinning room. Confident enough in herself, Y/N walked over to stand beside Bruce and the x-rays.

He carefully explained the fracture and what might happen if she were to take the splint off. Not terribly keen on getting surgery, Y/N knew she’d be in some pain for some time until it healed. It also meant she’d have to explain to her mother why she got hurt and she already knew she was never going to hear the end of it. Y/N cringed and glanced at her wrist.

“Don’t worry too much about it. Accidents happen. I’m just glad Bucky pulled you out when he did.” Bruce tried to reassure her, somehow knowing she was starting to dread the future repercussions of her accident. 

He was partly right. It was an accident, but she also kind of asked for it by standing too close to the edge. She stared guiltily at the wall, her shoulders dropping.

Bruce frowned and clicked the lightbox off. Before he could say anything else, there was a gentle knock at the door. Natasha opened the door and stepped in, a bottle of water in one hand and a cup with a few pills in the other.

“Take these, they’ll help your head and your wrist. I’ll make sure you have some for later.” Natasha instructed and passed her the little cup. “You can’t take any for another 8 hours and you shouldn’t drink anything while on them. And driving is out of the questions as well, at least until we know how you handle the medicine.”

Nodding mutely, Y/N took the pills, ready for her wrist to finally stop throbbing.

“I’ve gone ahead and sent Bucky to the main house. He’s going to get you some food started, we figured you haven’t eaten in a while.” Natasha said over her shoulder as she began to set out disinfectant wipes for the exam table. She wasn’t going to mention the reason why she sent him over was to cool down from his talk with Steve. Y/N didn’t need to meet that side of him, especially not for the first time. “I’ll walk you over and introduce you. He’s pretty anxious to know how you're doing.”

“O-oh, okay.” Y/N blinked. Natasha grinned and motioned her to follow. Y/N turned to Bruce, who had taken up the cleaning duty and waved goodbye. “Thank you, for everything. I’ll probably see you later?”

“Yes. I’ll check in on you in a little while to see how your feeling. Goodbye, Y/N.” Bruce chuckled and waved her off with a happy grin.

Natasha led her out of the medical cabin through a side door and down a dirt road. Y/N took a quick glance around the area, surprised at how seamlessly the cabin seemed to blend in with the forest. She picked up her pace, not wanting to be left behind in a strange place.

“So how long has this been here?” Y/N asked curiously.

“That’s a bit of a newer addition, maybe two years?” Natasha replied. “We don’t usually need it all that often, but on occasion, someone breaks an arm or something and we got tired having to drive an hour towards the nearest hospital.”

“Oh,” Y/N muttered lamely. “And there’s a main house?”

“Yes, it was the first house built here in the area and slowly as others came to settle here, more homes were built. The main house is used as kind of the common area, or any time we need to have meetings we all meet up there.”

“So like a city hall?”

“Kind of,” Natasha shrugged, “We don’t really consider this a city, hell it’s not even much of a town. But yeah, it kind of works that way.”

“So,” Y/N frowned, still a little confused. “Is-… Would you consider this more of a settlement?”

Natasha looked over her shoulder to Y/N, her brow raised. A guarded expression flashed across her face and for a second Y/N thought she’d tell her to mind her business. Natasha, however, let out a heavy sigh and turned back to face the road.

“In a way, I suppose.”

Y/N fell silent, not entirely certain what else to say. She didn’t want to step on Natasha’s toes any more than she was already had. Clearly, the topic of whatever Blackhollow was, was a touchy subject. She still had several questions, but Y/N thought it might be a good idea to wait and ask someone else.

The road wound through the trees, finally connecting with another road to a form a ‘t’. The left went around a sharp curve while the right went straight and disappeared through the trees. Natasha stopped short, and Y/N nearly slammed into the back of her. She stumbled and let out a surprised squeak.

“Sorry,” Natasha said and turned to face Y/N. “Before we go any further though, I need to explain a few things to you.”

“O-kay?” Y/N replied uncertainly, her eyes darting around the unassuming-looking road. Natasha took in a heavy breath before speaking.

“Blackhollow isn’t a town like you’re used to. We like to keep to ourselves, it’s one of the reasons why we’re where we are.” Natasha began seriously. “A lot of the people here won’t take kindly to you being here and might try to scare you off. If you feel like you’re being threatened, you probably are.”

“What-?” Y/N’s eyebrows shot up and her eyes went wide, but Natasha kept going.

“I’m not saying this to freak you out, but you need to understand. We’re a different breed out here. A little bit more dangerous and rougher around the edges. We like our privacy and do things a certain way.” Natasha continued with her face blank. Y/N was at a loss for words, completely thrown for a loop.

Now she was nervous, not like she wasn’t before, but now it was tenfold. Her instincts were screaming at her to make a break for it, to run somewhere else other than were ever Natasha was leading her. Of course, there was the problem that Y/N had no idea where she was, and all the trees looked the same so the possibility of her running in circles was fairly high.

“Ordinarily I’d say, ‘so long as you follow the rules, the others shouldn’t bother you’,” Natasha looked Y/N up and down, tilting her head to the side as she contemplated something. “But, something’s different about you. Don’t know what, don’t really care. All I know is if someone tries to chest up you, you better stand your ground.”

“’C-chest up’ me?” Y/N gaped. Natasha chuckled again and turned to take the left route and began to head down the road. Not really wanting to be left alone in the woods as the sun was beginning to set, Y/N reluctantly followed.

“Yep, kind of phrase we use around here. Pretty much it’s when someone gets in your face and tries to puff out their chest.” Natasha explained, showing her what she meant by pulling back her shoulders and jutting her chin out. “A lot of the time it’s to see if the other persons willing to get in a fight or not. More often than not its all for show.”

Y/N squinted at Natasha in disbelief. No way this could be real. I mean, do people really act like this around here? She thought to herself. But Natasha hadn’t done anything to make Y/N question her yet.

Natasha sent Y/N one more wide grin before she turned a sharp curve. Y/N sighed and glanced around the trees for a moment before turning back to where Natasha went. However, when she turned the same curve in the road, Natasha was gone and something else that lay in front of her that caught her off guard.

There was a giant clearing where the road suddenly faded off, huge and very out of place for the middle of the forest. It was nothing but a giant open field up against the mountain with the occasional trees scattered in the area. She could see the sky above, the fading light shining on the peculiar empty field.

She was also surprised to see how close they were to the mountain. It helped that she spent time learning the map before coming and now she had a better idea of where she was. She was miles from the campsite if she guessed right. Worse still, there was no sign of Natasha.

Her heart stopped. Y/N’s steps falter as her eyes darted around the clearing.  A prickling feeling began growing in the back of her head. Everything nerve in her body was screaming at her to turn away, to run and not look back. It was suffocating, making it harder to breathe. It was clawing at her throat, trying to get out in a scream. She hesitated in her next step, finding it harder and harder to ignore the overwhelming sense of fear. The noise in her head grew louder and louder, sweat starting to bead across her forehead. She didn’t want to keep going, but she also needed to find Natasha.

Taking in a deep breath, Y/N tried to shove aside the terror inside her and took two steps forward. The voice was at its crescendo, making her knees grow week and her head pulsed in pain. The hair on her neck stood on its end, once again Y/N questioned her sanity. But something else was telling her to do this. She was stronger than whatever this was. Blindly following the little voice that tried to soothe her through the screams of fright, Y/N willed herself to take one more step with her eyes clenched shut. The relief was instantaneous. It was like the bubble burst and the scream ceased to exist. Cracking an eye open, Y/N gasped.

Natasha stood right in front of her, a proud smile on her face. If her sudden appearance wasn’t surprising enough, it’s what was behind the woman that was the icing to the cake.

In what used to be the wide clearing were several quaint little homes, all set up along the road that mysteriously appeared under her feet.  It winded along, and up the mountain, disappearing further from sight. She could see more houses up the mountain as well, speckled in the densely wooded forest. Her mouth fell open in shock, her brain reeling to find an explanation.

“I-I-Wh-. But this-. Wait-.” Y/N stammered, unable to form any coherent words. Natasha laughed, light and airy despite the situation. It was enough to bring Y/N back with a snap. “What the actual fuck?!”

“There’s a lot I can’t explain. Not yet.” Natasha beamed and walked to Y/N side. She loped her arm through Y/N’s and started to walk towards the biggest house in the middle, practically dragging the stunned woman with. It must have been the main house, from its placement and all. What was even more peculiar was the strange wooden people that stood directly in front of it. “But you’re not crazy. If that helps.”

“I don’t think that will.” Y/N uttered, unable to stop from looking around. There were a few people standing around, in what she thought might be the front of their homes. They stared, some with confusion on their faces while others seemed passive. No one dared to step closer and greet the newcomer though, which did little to ease Y/N’s nerves. “What the actual fuck?”

Natasha snorted, finding the entire thing rather comical. Y/N shot her a glare.

“It’s not funny. What the fuck was that?”

“Wow, you’re pretty colorful when you’re in shock huh?” Natasha giggled. She went to walk around the pole, but Y/N stopped short.

Now that she was closer, Y/N realized it wasn’t just a wooden pillar in the ground. Towering high above was an intricately decorated totem pole, the paint, and carvings still distinct despite being in the open. In fact, it looked almost untouched by the test of time. She couldn’t tell if there was a story, but she recognized a bird, a wolf, and a bear among some of the animals. It seemed to hum with an energy Y/N couldn’t place, almost as if it was calling her to step closer.

“That’s been here since before I could remember,” Natasha said. Y/N blinked, the sudden interruption tearing her from the haze.

“O-oh.” Y/N cleared her throat and took a step back. If Natasha noticed the strange shift in Y/N, she didn’t comment. She ushered Y/N towards the step of the house by taking her arm back in hers. Y/N’s head swiveled around to stare back at the totem pole, thoroughly puzzled by the feeling she was getting from it. She eyed the strange markings on the back and had to do a double-take. It looked as if the marking began to glow and pulse, the grass bending with the ripple.

Nope, she denied. It’s gotta be the conclusion. That why I’m seeing things. Yep, lets just call it that.

Y/N didn’t know how much more she could take of this strange venture and as she stepped into the house that wasn’t there five minutes ago, she wondered just how much more was going to get thrown her way.

[serendipityunho]

No Strings | 강여상

↳ PART FOUR

GENRE: angst, friends to lovers, friends with benefits, college au WARNINGS: explicit language, heartbroken mingi :’)

Word Count: 1.8k

part 1 • part 2 • part 3 • part 4

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Eujin never showed that side of her to anyone, the side of her weakened state. Everyone saw her as that girl, the girl who took no shit from anyone, the girl who could honestly brush off anything and leave wrecks unscratched. Not in this mess. 

Yeosang didn’t bother defending himself at all, he was a blunt person after all. There was no point in lying about what happened when there was literally evidence of it on her phone, probably deemed tainted now. 

“Why did you do it?” Yeosang’s eyes stayed glued to the ground, head slung low as he leant forward with his elbows on his knees.

“Just say you’re done with me and let’s get it over with-” 

“I’m asking you why? Why did you get with me even though you were going to crawl back to her?” Eujin squeezed the ice pack, hands aching and burning from holding it for too long.

“I don’t know” Yeosang carefully took the ice pack from Eujin’s hands, pressing it against his swollen face before leaning back against his couch.

“Don’t know or don’t want to tell me?” Eujin genuinely cared. She cared about things, especially things that had a necessary reason. 

“Why do you care? Shouldn’t you be yelling at me?” 

“I already yelled enough for today. And, I care because you were the one who made this mess. If it wasn’t for you, then maybe I wouldn’t have let everyone see that side of me. They probably think I’m psycho now” Eujin scoffed, crossing her arms against her chest as she paced back and forth, glaring at Yeosang.

“Everything has to be my fault doesn’t it?”

“That’s because it is your fault, idiot” 

Yeosang didn’t know what to say. Why didn’t he just leave her? Save the trouble of confrontation and embarrassment. Heck even a beating.

“I’m sorry”

“You hurt me, Yeosang. I thought you actually liked me, thought that I actually found a decent guy for once” Eujin’s head started subtly pounding, barely managing to keep her voice stable as she attempted not to break down in front of Yeosang.

“I’m sorry”

“Saying ‘sorry’ over and over again isn’t going to fucking solve anything, Yeosang!” Anger got the best of Eujin, except, it wasn’t just the anger Yeosang had caused. It was all the built up anger from herself, she let herself fall into the same mistakes once again. 

“Well what the fuck do you want me to say?” The ice pack landed on his coffee table with an ear-piercing sound, making Eujin flinch subtly in the corner. 

“Just admit it so I can get this over and done with”

“Admit what?” Yeosang knew exactly what she was talking about. 

Eujin narrowed her eyes at Yeosang, scoffing in disbelief as she sat down across from him with her elbows on her knees. She needed him to say it in order for her to fully comprehend her mistakes.

“Just. Admit. It” Their eyes locked hard on each other, searching for some sort of reasoning on both parts.

“I love her” Those words were more than enough for Eujin to blink back her tears, leaning back up from her forward position.

“Great. Now we’re done. See you around, Yeosang” Everything ached, from her heart to the back of her throat as she blinked away tears and pushed the thoughts to the back of her head.

Guilt consumed Yeosang for the rest of the night, pondering and pondering of his mistakes. He knew better than to get into a relationship when his feelings laid with someone else, yet he did it anyways.

Now look at his outcome, he broke a girl who was already broken enough. Looking back, he thought, “What was the point of that?”, absolutely nothing. Did he do it out of boredom? Who knows. The only thing he got out of it was a fit of jealousy and sense of realisation. 

Eujin had already left his apartment by the time the ice melted into water in his plastic zip-lock bag. Yeosang continued staring at the ceiling, arms behind his head as the series of events play over and over again, questioning every decision that was made. 

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It wasn’t hard to spot a vibrant red-head in the shelves of hard-cased books. Mingi rarely ever wore his thin framed glasses unless he was studying hard. And he never studies hard. So this was a sight to see. 

“Can we talk?” Mingi seemed quite surprised to see Yeosang after the little beating the two had in the parking lot the other day.

“Yeah, what’s up?” The heavy book shut close with a small thump before being slipped back into its slot on the shelf. Mingi’s build was slightly bigger than Yeosang, making it a little more uncomfortable for him to talk to, especially after their little episode. 

“Actually, you don’t mind if we go somewhere else, right?” Yeosang scanned the not-so-empty library, college kids, some even from his course, scattered everywhere at every table with their heads buried in some head-aching pile of words. 

“Uh, sure” Mingi snatched his backpack off his table before following Yeosang closely behind, brewing possibilities in his head of what the deal was.

The two reached the parking lot, it was quite ironic really. With a click of the button on Yeosang’s keys, they stepped into his car, basking in silence before either one muttered a word.

“Is your face okay?” The little ice breaker only made it more awkward than it already was.

“Yeah, I guess. Does it look okay?” Yeosang snapped his head to the side, letting Mingi have a look of his face. 

Mingi felt a slight pang of guilt, the thought of Yeosang rocking up to your place looking like that thanks to him was actually quite nerve-wrecking. He was skeptical that you might not see him the same way again, even after his unexpected confession in your kitchen yesterday.

“Sorry” Mingi offered a small apologetic smile. He actually found it quite funny that he was sitting in the car with a guy he beat up literally two parking spots away from this one he was in. 

“It’s okay, I would’ve done the same for the girl I loved too” Yeosang turned back to the front, softly tapping his fingers on his steering wheel.

“Is it that obvious?” 

“It’s more prominent than your hair, dude” Mingi’s face flushed, head falling back against the cushion as he kept silent.

“So what’d you bring me out here for?” He was genuinely curious, well, who wouldn’t be?

“Well, we both love her, that’s for sure” 

“Mhm?”

“And only one of us can have her”

“You don’t have to worry about anything, Yeosang” 

As much as it hurt for Mingi to admit it, he had to in order for you to find happiness again. Happiness with Yeosang.

“Don’t say you’re planning to kill me or something” Yeosang chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

“Nah... You can have her” Mingi’s response took Yeosang for surprise. 

He was always a competitive guy, always doing what had to be done in order to win. The fact that Mingi was giving up you, says a lot. But really, he just loved you that much. Loved you so much he’d rather see you happy than him, even if it meant seeing you with someone else.

“Look, I don’t want to see you all depressed and stuff-”

“I mean it. Trust me, it’s better for her to be with someone she loves too rather than being in a one-sided relationship with me” 

“I’m sorry, bro” Yeosang was hesitant to pat Mingi on the shoulder at first, but then he realised maybe he kind of needed it. 

“Everything happens for a reason. Just make sure you don’t fuck it up otherwise you’d be wasting my potential boyfriend time” The two broke into small chuckles, unbelievably mending their friendship just like that.

“You have my word”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was the epitome of a cliche, you could’ve sworn your window was on the brink of cracking from all the stones being thrown at it. You really didn’t want to open it. At all. 

But, it was tempting by the fact that it was Yeosang’s dorky self putting an effort into collecting stones at the bottom of your apartment building and aiming it high at your window. 

“What do you want? It’s like nine o’clock!” You swung open the window panes as you hissed at Yeosang, slightly worried that he might’ve actually hit you in the face with his pebbles. 

“To talk?” The pool of pebbles held within the bottom of his shirt dropped to the ground as Yeosang stood there, slightly shivering.

“You couldn’t just have called me?” 

“It’s on silent, doofus” 

Idiot, you told yourself. How could you not realise? You were studying after all.

“Wait over there” You let out a loud sigh before shuffling your slippers on and buzzing the intercom for Yeosang to enter the building. 

His padded footsteps against the lush carpet grew louder as he walked up the stairs. You had already opened the door by the time you saw his ashy brown hair peak from the stairs of the level below you.

“What are you doing h-” Yeosang pushed you inside as his lips locked onto yours, hand cupping both sides of your face as you stumbled back in shock.

“I love you” Oh god, did you just hear that right? 

You couldn’t pry your eyes away from Yeosang’s sparkling ones even if you wanted to. Literally. He was still cupping both sides of your face while flashing a bright grin.

“Huh?” 

“I love you, idiot” The sparkle in Yeosang’s eyes shined even brighter as your cheeks balled from the forming smile.

“You do?” Yeosang looked like he barely caught on to your mere whisper, but he did.

“Yes, I do. And I’m sorry I didn’t realise sooner” 

There wasn’t another word you wanted to wanted to say in this moment. It seemed like everything was going your way. 

You pushed yourself forward, pressing your lips on Yeosang’s once again, making Yeosang stumble back onto the couch. You couldn’t think of anything else other than the fact that you had him again.

There was no surprise as to the fact that your clothes had once again been piled on top of each other on the floor. His touch was as mesmerising just like you remembered. 

It wasn’t just sex. It was something more than that. The two of you didn’t realise that sooner. 

“Is your face okay?” You traced small circles on Yeosang’s naked chest, legs tangled with his under your fluffy blanket as the two of you laid on the couch.

“I’m glad both you and Mingi care about my face” Yeosang’s deep chuckle filled your ear, making you chuckle with him.

“You spoke with Mingi?” Suddenly, those vague memories came back to you in an instant. 

“Yeah... he loves you a lot” 

“Boy catches feelings easily, I can’t blame him” 

“I can’t blame him either, I mean who wouldn’t catch feelings for you?”

“Ew, stop that”

“Stop what?”

“Being cheesy, it doesn’t suit you”

“Yeah, you’re right. I kind of cringed too”

Man, it felt great having your best friend back- lover. Lover? Either way, it was great.

part 1 • part 2 • part 3 • part 4

[danaan13]

Today is my birthday. It's also been one week since a very hard decision had to be made, that changed my life very suddenly, and very painfully. The following is going under a cut. It’s also really long. My apologies to any mobile users that might get the full post anyway. Scroll really fast. I'm going to be talking about the loss of my dog. Some of it is traumatic. So warnings for injury, death, cars, insurance shit, and lots of feelings.

This post is 85% for me and 15% for anyone who's had questions since my vague posts a week ago. I have no blame or ill feelings for anyone that needs to keep scrolling. This post is going to be a lot. And I understand if one doesn't have the energy or the headspace for it. But a lot of of this is writing for my personal mourning.

One other thing: I go over events with the vet we saw. I'm not looking for different diagnoses, or different opinons, or debate, about what the vet said, or the decision we made. As I said, this post is for me to mourn. For me to record what happened. Maybe someone else would've done something differently. I don't know. We made the decision we thought was best.

And with that:

One week ago, my spouse took our dog for a walk in the evening. This was our normal routine. Newton, our dog, loved it. She was an australian shepherd mix, and naturally had all kinds of energy to work out. Even at eleven years old. It's 6 in the evening. It's pitch black out. My spouse has a bright orange, relfective rain jacket on. Newton is wearing a bright orange doggie vest, a collar that had a glowy blue led strip all the way around, and a leash with a reflective string. By our thoughts, safety was accounted for.

Their normal route took them past the shopping center that's a block and a half from our home. My spouse sees a truck sitting at a restaurant parking lot exit, as if waiting on traffic, before attempting to turn. Spouse believes they're going to continue to wait, and starts to cross the front of the exit, along the part marked as a sidewalk. Spouse is directly in front of truck, when it starts up and hits them. And pins Newton under the wheel.

The driver rolled down the passenger window to yell at my spouse. My spouse was yelling at him to move off our dog. A witness, who heard our dog screaming, from inside the restaurant, comes out and bangs on the man's driver window till he rolls it down. He finally backs off of Newton. They move her aside. My spouse was in that kind of shock where emotions shut off. They start giving orders. You call 911. You get that man's insurace. Someone get pictures. Etc.

And then the man suddenly drives away. Doesn't say a word. Doesn't leave insurance. Doesn't stay for the police. He ran.

By this point, one of the witnesses already has clear pictures of his vehicle and license plate. He's reported to the police, and they put out a call to find him.

Spouse calls me shortly after this. Call our vet. We got hit. We need to get Newton to a vet. So I call our vet. It's 6:30. They're closed for the night. But they were there for accounting stuff. They give me the number for the emergency vet. I call ahead. Tell them we'll be coming, but that I don't know what the injuries are. Just that a car was involved.

I go hop in our car. Drive a block and a half to the scene. There's two fire trucks. There's police cars. Traffic's doing that bottlenecking thing. I park and run over. Instantly get hugged by the witness who'd gotten involved. My spouse is sitting on the sidewalk. One piece. Looks okay. My dog's wrapped in sheets. She's awake. Looking around. What I could understand of her body language was a mixture of pain, but excitement because there's people paying attention to her. And oh how Newton adored every ounce of attention she could beg for.

The witness, we'll call her S now. S volunteers to come with my spouse and I to the emergency animal clinic. She sits in the back of my car while the firemen load poor newton in. Spouse comes with me, even though the firemen wanted them to go to the ER. We agree to go to the ER once we got Newton settled. S's family, two men who I presume to be husband and father, possibly, follow in their car behind us.

We get there. The vet techs wisk Newton off to the back. They need to do xrays. They need someone to stay and talk out costs. S volunteers to take Spouse to the ER. Spouse agrees to go. So I stay at the vet by myself. They settle me in a room, where I text friends updates about all this. I'm scared. And all I wanted was to hug my dog.

The vet shows up after a bit. She's very calm, very kind, and amazingly empathetic. She explains that Newton wasn't succumbing to the medicine as quickly as they'd like. She's too excited. Too many new people to meet. Gets excited every time someone comes into the room. Classic Newton. So, they only got the xrays from the one side at that time.

Her spine is fine. But a hip is shattered. There's shards. One hip is also dislocated. My heart's in my stomach. Vet explains that if it's just the one leg shattered, they can amputate. But if it's both, then it's not good. She explains that the dislocation would have to be fixed via surgery. It can't just be popped back in. She explains that our town doesn't have an orthopedic surgeon for dogs. We'd have to go to one of two major cities, two hours away. The vet then explains that she'll get better xrays, once the meds kick in and they can roll Newton over without causing her more pain. So, she draws up the treatment plan for the next twenty four hours. I leave the deposit for the cost of the care. She says she'll call me when she's got more data. And when she's talked to surgeons offices.

And then I go to the ER, trying to not cry because my dog will probably never run or jump, ever again. She's an aussie. They run. They jump. They're energetic. Newton would bounce all over the place in front of our patio door, to greet our neighbors as they walked past. She was constantly knocking down blinds from our hanging blinds there. She loved to play fetch. We've got a long hallway we'd throw tennis balls down, and she'd go chase them and run back. She'd never do any of that again.

I get to the ER. I tell my spouse. They're heartbroken. I call our auto insurance, at the nurse's request, to start that process, while we wait for the doctor to come back from the xrays. When the doctor comes, he says Spouse is fine. No breaks, fractures, or internal injuries. Might have bruising show up in a day or two. So, we're given pain medication to handle that. To note, no bruises have yet appeared, a week later. Spouse physically feels fine. Emotionally is another matter.

So, we go home. We cry. We try to settle down. It's been two and a half hours since my spouse left the house to go on that walk. I make my posts here. We make posts on Facebook. We get an outpouring of concern, love, and prayers, from friends and family alike.

By midnight, I get a call from the vet. They have the rest of the xrays. Both hips are injured. One shattered, one fractured. And then there's the dislocation. There does not appear to be any internal injury though. She'd gotten ahold of both surgical centers in the two nearby cities. Both hospitals can do surgery. But they both would require about ten thousand dollars to do it. And, they both note that Newton is eleven. She's classified as a senior dog, despite her energy and good health. She'd never be the same. Therapy after surgery might not be enough. The neat wheels some dogs get, might not be enough. There's no guarantee that her quality of life would be enough, that she wouldn't suffer.

So, I talk to my spouse. And we're breaking. She's been our family for eleven years. We call back. Make the decision, get ready, and go to the clinic. We get to hug her and pet her. We get to give her a few last good treats. We cry. And we get to hold her as she goes to sleep for the last time.

And then we go home again. We still don't know if they've arrested the driver. There isn't a report on the police website yet. We manage, somehow, to sleep. Not very well on my part. By the next morning, there's a police report. The man was arrested and charged with a hit and run.

I try to call our auto insurance back. The adjuster we were assigned to the nigh before, is out of the office for the weekend. So, I wait and then call back on Monday. We start that whole process. She starts contacting the driver's insurance. We talk to the police department and get told we can get ahold of the city prosecutor in a week. We start the process to get a lawyer.

We celebrate Christmas with our son. He doesn't live at home now. Got his own place. And a dog of his own there. He brings her over when he comes. And for a few hours, we're able to cuddle and play with a sweet dog again. It's not the same. It hurts a little. But it heals a little too.

Today is my birthday. And today I get to go pay the company that handled Newton's cremation. And pick up the clay pawprint that they made for me. Happy birthday to me. I know my Newton is no longer in pain. And that she was her beautiful smiley self, right to the last moment. I will miss her forever. But I know that we'll be okay. Eventually.

If you've read this far, and you feel the need to do something, or say something, then feel free to tag me in posts of cute dogs or cats, or other animals. Or, if you're wanting to do a more monetary action, maybe donate to organizations like the Old Friends Senior Dog Sanctuary. That's what I'm doing for my Facebook Birthday Fundraiser. You don't have to give through mine specifically. You don't even have to give to them in particular. Heck, you don't even have to tell me about it. I just appreciate that there are groups like theirs, that can provide good quality of life, to senior dogs, who have that chance.

And for anyone wondering if we're going to get another dog, we are. We put in an application at our local humane society. It might feel fast. But it's so quiet in here now. We need someone to carry Newton's torch onwards. We've looked at a few dogs already. We've not found our one, yet. But we're looking.

Thank you for reading all this. I'm sorry if this post was difficult for you in anyway. I've got a lot of mourning left to do. So for now:

Goodbye my sweet, silly girl.

Newton 2008-2019

[brushlesprouts]

A little Urban Fantasy

I wish I could say this was born out of a long, well thought out concept of a wizard/shaman character trying to scrape by in the big city as a detective on a supernatural investigative team whilst dealing with the myriad of fantasy creatures sticking their nose into his personal life and causing all kinds of chaos around his town. But in reality, I just wanted a chance for a guy to nail a God in the junk. So, Enjoy.

~~~~~~

The night air was heavy with the musk of summer heat. Standing across the desolate park was Mr. Simmons, or so he went by. I had been tracing his movements for some time, trying to catch him slip up. I had my suspicions after watching him stand behind little Timmy at the festival a few weeks ago. An unremarkable man, Mr. Simmons looked like any other office worker. His dull suit and unoffensive presence made him blend well into the scenery of the urban setting. A little too well.

I had managed to get him out to the meeting when I mailed him some photos I took of him at the festival. I had to shop in some special details, marking in the note that I had a special lens attached. I figured he would just get antsy and cover his tracks, but here he is. Staring at me as if to set me on fire. For all I knew, he could do it.

I guess Gods can get nervous too.

Mr. Simmons reached into his jacket. I tensed my hand around the revolver at my side. A bullet to the gut probably wouldn’t do much to an omnipotent being, but its presence allowed me the bravado I needed to stare down celestial types. He produced an envelope and held it out in front of him, quirking an expectant eyebrow.  I followed suit. Without losing my grip on the pistol, a steady hand fished a roll of film from my pocket. I also held it up for the long-distance scrutiny of my business partner.

Now this is where the dance gets tricky. We show off the goods, hand it over to a confidant and they make the trade. If either side showed sign of unfavorable response, the deal is blown and we go our separate ways, usually the head goes one way and the body goes another. Seeing as my conversation piece was powered by gunpowder and his by the visceral might of eternity, I hedged my bets on taking a dive. As such, I play by as many rules to get by as I can. Stay cool, stay professional, stay alive. Blackmailing Gods is tricky business to say the least.

I hand the cartridge to my confidant beside me, a little sprite I have lovingly deemed “Fetch”. The Fey can be chaotic at times, but with the right incentive they can be a boon for simple tasks. Such as, “give to the big scary guy and nab the goods. Then comes energy drinks.”

The diminutive fellow hefts the cartridge in his arms and sets his wings in motion. Across the park, Mr. Simmons does the same. His choice of companion is best described as a pile of compost. Various bits of plant detritus, leaves and twigs, jutting out at odd angles and mashed together with a pair of flowers at the top as a form of eyes I guess. It managed to balance the envelope on its head and shamble its way over to me.

I had been milling the thought for a while, ‘why would a land god use a blob of mulch as a companion and not some kind of cute woodland creature?’ I narrowed my eyes at the undulating creature. As it approached, I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I glanced over to Fetch, he was almost to Simmons. I decided to make a small diversion. Tilting my head back, I let out a loud sneeze. Everyone on the scene froze for a moment as I reached for a handkerchief. I wiped my nose and glanced over at Fetch, who had been looking at me over his shoulder. He whipped around, letting the canister fall from his grip. It clattered on the ground.

“Ah, come on Fetch!” I called to him, “Be professional, like we practiced.”

Yelling at my companion gave me an opening to steal a glance at the vegetative familiar. The envelope had toppled from its head when I bellowed my sneeze. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the mess snatch the envelope with a bony hand protruding from within the pile of leaves. I made a sound, something between a hiccup and a shriek. Whatever it was, it was obvious enough to alert the land god to my epiphany. Er, correction. That was no land god. I was attempting to blackmail a being of decay, of rot and death. Standing across from me wearing a rather irritated expression was a Plague God.

Remember that part about “separate ways”? Well, things were going to go very “separate” for me in short order unless quick thinking could save my bacon. When in doubt, fall back on the classics.

“AAAAAAHHHH!” I shouted and ran like a maniac. This clued Fetch in to do his most favorite trick. A mystical light-speed hokey-pokey that filled the area with enough razzle and dazzle to out glitz Vegas. The diversion must have gotten to the very angry being of unlife as I managed to make the few steps necessary to pounce on the envelope. A well placed back-hand toppled the camouflaged corpse into a rotten pile of bones. I sprang to my feet as the glitter faded from the air, the little guy can only boogie so long. I let loose a string of colorful language. Or I tried, I got to kiss the dirt before finishing “Shi-“ and had a powerful and ancient being digging its all-powerful boot into my back.

“Did you really think you could best me, Mortal?” It said with a voice like searing acid. I felt a deep chill fill my body. A cold that threatened to stop my heart before I could blink. But, it is in our most dour moments, that glory can be found and indomitable wit can be harnessed. I dug my numb hand into my pocket and work what I assumed were my fingers around my revolver.

“Did—you think, I wouldn’t…gun!” I pulled the trigger and felt a hot sting in my foot.

Some ideas are better than others. The deity howled in laughter, stepping off me and drawing a long, gnarly looking scimitar. Raising it high over his head and looming over me.

“Such are the machinations of a fool.”

I flipped to my back, “Me? A fool?” I pulled my bloody foot in front of me. “Maybe, but I ain’t the one staring down a Gate, am I?” With my one-liner properly dispatched, I gave Simmons my best crippled nut-shot.

The look of surprise on his face was priceless. Horror, disgust, rage and maybe a tinge of acceptance, though that might just be the hubris talking. The portal I had unlocked via bullet to the foot swallowed the powerful being in a wondrous display of magic and light. There were magical words floating in the air, vortex-y looking structures crafted from aether and a really sci-fi “vwoosh”-ing sound. After the fireworks display, the dust settled and the park returned to a quiet and serene place. I even had a moment to enjoy the adrenaline before the shrill sound of police sirens permeated the night. My signal to get moving.

I whistled for Fetch and I hobbled my way back to the car. My faithful driver waiting patiently, smoking a thick cigar. As I approached, he pulled the door open for me and I threw myself inside, Fetch staying close by. We pulled away from the park and disappeared into the night, literally. It’s handy to know a few gnome mechanics.

“Just as planned?” Piped up my driver, the cigar clenched between his teeth.

I winced as the adrenaline gave way to the throbbing pain aching my whole body. I managed to pretty up the expression with a rugged and manly smirk. I reached down and tugged the envelope free from the hole in my foot.

“All in a day’s work.”

He gave a sideways glance and shuddered, “You Gates are so weird.”

We continued in silence. It gave me time to wonder. A plague god had no place waltzing into the festival. How the heck did he sneak in? I looked over the envelope and resolved to bring it up with Marshal back at the office. But that could wait.

“Danny,” I said, “Take me to 42nd and Vice. I got a date with a gal.”

“Can I ride shotgun?”

I shook my head, “Got a Plague God riding shotgun right now, but if you are into that kind of thing…”

He pounded the palm of his hand on the steering wheel. “Dammit, I never get to—“ He paused and let the cigar drop from his mouth. “Plague God!?”

I snatched the cigar before it landed on the seats and popped it back into his mouth. “Never fret, my friend.” I smiled, “I got a plan.”

He took a drag on the tobacco and let out a thick sigh, “I need to find a new line of work.”

[space-lions-and-imagines]

A Very Merry Voltron Valentine’s ft. Pidge

Alternate title: Lance is a little instigating shit and pidge is a huge sappy nerd

A/N this was done with literally no editing or beta so mistakes be damned! Take my trash and do what you will with it lol

~1900 words

“There is no capitalism in space Lance,” Pidge said with a roll of her eyes as she tried to find the perfect ratio of alien ingredients to make the brown sludge in her cup taste like coffee. “And even if we were on Earth I would still try to fight the good fight against corporate schemes that disguise themselves as holidays. Its evil to try and trademark love,” she said pushing herself onto the counter and taking a long sip. Still terrible but if it was giving her at least some sort of buzz so worth it for the time being.

Nothing, however, was worth seeing that horrible ‘I know something you don’t know’ look that Lance wore so proudly. Pidge frowned, tapping her fingers against the ceramic mug trying her hardest to not ask. Asking would mean giving in and admitting she was curious in whatever gossip he had. Even if she was dying to know why he even brought up the subject of Valentine’s Day she didn’t want to feed into his teenage soap opera ways. Lucky for her though he wasn’t very good at keeping things to himself.

“That is very noble. I’m sure you must have been very popular amongst all your tech nerd buddies who also never had dates. But things are different now pidge! You do have a date and maybe they don’t share the same fight the system inclinations you do,” Lance said with what he must have thought was a very casual wave of his hand as he leaned on the counter opposite Pidge “But if you don’t care that s/o got you something well then that’s none of my business,” he continued looking down to pick at his nails.

Pidge’s first thought was that with the right forward momentum she could easily knock Lance to the floor and force him to tell everything he knew about the gift. Of course that’s probably what he wanted judging by his eyebrows lost somewhere in his hairline and toothy smile. So instead she cleared her throat and said “I have to go. Right now. Immediately. And you still can’t pressure me into this …. No matter what may happen in the future know that you had nothing to do with it!” as she ran out of the kitchen.

Pidge’s time off was supposed to be spent working on some personal projects, mostly working on some of her language courses before the castle started beeping at her and projecting holographic reminders in her room. Now she was desperately trying to figure out exactly what romance was even supposed to be. She had visions of hearts and fat babies with bows dancing around her head as she tried to remember what Valentines was like back home. She groaned, pulling at her hair and slumping onto her bed. “Sure Pidge you’re suuuuuuch a genius. Alien tech, no problem. Giant lion weapon system, no problem. Get your date mate a nice present and suddenly I’m as intelligent as a snail. Ugh no … that’s an insult to snails!” she mumbled grabbing a pillow to scream into.

She did nothing but simmer like that for a long time, the wheels turning and turning in her head to the point she was sure there was smoke coming out of her ears. Then suddenly she sat up right, the fire moving from her brain to her eyes. “I’ve been looking at this all wrong. I can’t figure this out the way Lance would. I have to solve it my way. Besides my way is going to end up being much more efficient and not only help myself but all other romantically troubled people to come!” she announced to her audience of scattered tools and crushed energy drink cans before setting to her new task: finding the scientific solution to the perfect Valentine’s Day.

It was at best a show of her dedication to s/o but at its worst, and somewhere a little closer to the truth, it looked like a conspiracy theorist wall. Pictures and words taped to the wall with multicolored string creating a makeshift obstacle course. Several people had tried to come check on her only to look at the mess, decide it wasn't their problem and walk right back out. Even s/o had been warned about Pidge’s strange project and hadn’t been around except to leave snacks and the occasional ‘remember to drink lots of water!’ note. At long, long last though she was certain that she had the key. A fool proof plan she had gotten all of the details perfected at three o’clock in the morning.

Well almost perfect, she had neglected one detail in her pursuit of scientifically backed romance; she had absolutely no idea where to get any of it. They were currently trying to lay low which meant there was no guarantee of the next time they would be going off ship. The only option she had was to work with what was around the castle … it was going to be a long day.

~*~

Pidge had looked rough before, forgetting to sleep for a couple days could do that but it was nothing compared to how she looked and felt now. It seemed like it was just disaster after another, she tried to not think of it as a metaphor for her life. First it was the flowers, a classic and what she assumed would be the easiest considering Allura had a greenhouse tucked away in the upper stories of the castle. Pidge had found the most appealing colors and shapes, trying to match those she knew from Earth, to create the ultimate bouquet. It was going great until she broke into a rainbow of rashes in some equally as colorful places on her body. That dream was quickly squashed.

Pidge thought that at least she could have a nice dinner and some chocolates to give to s/o, Hunk was a sap for that mushy kind of stuff. Heck he had been making everything heart shaped for month in preparation for the big day! Yet Pidge had all but been laughed out when she brought her requested menu. “Dude I would love to help you and I can do what I can buuuuut this is not Earth. I don’t have anything that’s even close to, what was it you wanted steak? Really, steak? And truffles? Oh man I wish I had access to some chocolate! It’s a nice thought but the best I can do is like a trio of space goo,” Hunk said before Pidge kicked that damned goo machine and left.

The rest of her tasks when just about the same. The closest thing to a stuffed animal she found was the training robots. The shiniest thing she could find to try and make jewelry was scraps of galra tech which just seemed ominous. She had managed to blow up something resembling a balloon but discovered whatever gas she used was very unstable finally leaving her empty handed and half an eyebrow short.

She trudged back to her room late into the night, worse for the ware and completely down in spirits. “This is what I get for turning my back on my morals, karma apparently works over time in space,” she snorted as she belly flopped onto the bed wondering if she suffocated in the sheets if she would be allowed out of the Valentine’s celebrations that she was sure Lance had planned for later the next day. She was perfectly willing to wallow in her own sadness until she was dragged out to see what amazing thing s/o had gotten her when suddenly there was a knock on the door.

Her heart fluttered, knowing who it had to be but almost hoping that it wasn’t. The soft footsteps could only belong to one person and despite the fact nothing was going right Pidge was happy to hear them. After all the trouble and disappointment they were the only person she could think of that she would want to be around. Even if she had nothing to give in return. “Hey there stranger, I didn’t realize we had someone new living in the castle. I have heard a ghost has been roaming as of late though,” they teased as they sat on the edge of the bed with legs crisscrossed. “I did try ghost hunting but haven’t had much luck …. Ya know I missed you Pidge,” they added with quiet sincerity.

It wasn’t posed as a question or even with the air of sad guilt for which Pidge was eternally grateful. It was something she appreciated with their relationship; there was never any need to explain her weird habits until she was ready to talk. “Im a weirdo who doesn’t deserve your patience but I will selfishly accept it,” Pidge said slumping and twisting around until her head was resting in their lap, her arms hugging their waist. “But good news is ghostbusters have stopped by and eliminated all ghosts. I’m back to being my usual annoying goblin of a person,” she said grinning up at them.

“Mmm you are definitely more of a troll but whatever you decide to be, as long as you’re mine again, I’m happy~” they cooed down at her, rubbing her arm and bending down to kiss the top of her head. Pidge gave a content sigh and wanted to bury herself in this moment, get lost in the warmth and serenity of being reunited with them. “Aaaaaaan because you’re mine I kinda got you something. Lance has been on my case about Valentine’s Day, which I personally think is a sort of emotional cop out but I couldn’t resist a chance at arts and crafts,” they grinned, gently scooching Pidge over to reach for something in their pocket.

Pidge expected to be a nervous wreck, feeling so low that she would want to puke but she instead found herself actually anxious to see what it was. The earlier disdain of not being able to make a perfect gift a shadow in the back of her mind, almost laughable in that moment. She held out her hand to accept what she now saw was a card, pushing herself up to get a better view of what it said. On the front there was a cartoonish picture of a galaxy, stars and planets dotting the shimmery blue paper, and bubble letters that read ‘Are you stuck in space Valentine?’ then opened up to a very crude sketch of what was undeniably a butt surrounded by all capital letters in harsh red print ‘BECAUSE THAT ASS IS OUT OF THIS WORLD.’

There was silence for a minute, while s/o sat biting their lip, opening their mouth stuttering about how they weren’t a great artist and that she didn’t have to like it she just thought the joke was funny but they could totally forget the whole thing. Only shutting up when Pidge crashed her lips against their own, laughing into the kiss so hard they seemed to be vibrating against each other, tears wetting their cheeks before they pulled away gasping for air while the last fit of giggles left their systems.

“This is perfect. You’re perfect,” Pidge said, arms wrapped around s/o’s neck with her forehead resting against theirs. They giggled again and kissed the tip of her nose “Only cause I have someone to be perfect for,” they replied with another smile which Pidge happily returned. Again she didn’t deserve someone this amazing but she wouldn’t want anything else.

[sholiofic]

Prompt-They meet some of the avengers?

Guardians of the Galaxy/Avengers, with vague spoilers for the new GotG movie, not really any recent Avengers spoilers to speak of.

Also on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10952283

–

“Hey! Whatcha lookin’ at down here?”

Clint jumped. He had been staring out the … window probably wasn’t right. Porthole? Viewscreen? Anyway, looking at space, watching the stars pass, when Peter Quill dropped out of a hatch over his head that he hadn’t even realized was there and thumped to the deck beside him.

It was hard not to think of Peter as a kid, even though there couldn’t have been more than about a decade or so between them. But Peter’s enthusiastic golden-retriever exuberance made Clint feel about a million years old, especially at times like now, when he’d been mesmerized by the vast gulf of blackness around him and mostly thinking about how someone like him (nothing special, no superserum, not even any fancy armor, just a damn spook, and a retired one at that) didn’t belong out here.

He was in space. On a spaceship.

“Stars,” he answered dryly.

“Yeah, I figured that part out.” Peter glanced out the window without a lot of interest. “There’s not much else to look at in this part of the cosmos, but we’re not quite to the next jump point yet. Oh, hey! If you really want to see something, we should take you by the –” and he said something odd, a quick garbled clicking.

“The what?”

Peter looked briefly baffled. “Didn’t that translate? Uh … it’s Chthonian, these cheap translators don’t always have all the languages from the Outer Arms …” He did something behind his ear. “Center of the Cat’s Eye. Did you get that?”

“I think so,” Clint said, frowning, because now he was wondering what language they were actually speaking, especially what the more unusual members of Peter’s crew sounded like.

“Sweet.” Peter touched something on the wall. “Hey, Rocket, when we hit the jump point, jump us to Cat’s Eye, would you?”

“Why?” came the cantankerous response. “That’s three jumps out of our way.”

“Yeah, but I want to show the new folks.”

“Fuckin’ tourists,” the mutter came from the wall.

Clint cleared his throat. “Er, just so I’m clear, Rocket is the ra –”

Peter’s hand shot out and clapped over Clint’s mouth until he had tapped off the intercom. “Don’t call him a raccoon. At least not if you want to leave the ship with all the fingers and toes you came onboard with. And he’s got ears like a bat.”

“You know,” Clint said, more than a little disgruntled, “I thought you were hanging around upstairs with the women and the … er … tree.”

“Yeah, well, Gamora and your redheaded friend were showing each other some high-kick moves, and then the knives came out, and I decided it would be a good time to get out of Dodge.” Peter leaned a casual shoulder against the wall. “Anyway, I wanted to find you and ask if you have any cool powers. I’ve asked everybody else, but I haven’t asked you yet.”

“Powers?”

“Yeah, I’ve met a few people from Earth out here, and most of them have powers. One time I met a lady who could punch through an asteroid. That was seriously cool. What do you do on your team?”

And didn’t that just strike right to the heart of his current bout of nerves about the coming fight. Clint snorted. “I shoot arrows, mostly.”

He was unprepared for the look on Peter’s face, a quick flash of open, wounded hurt, before it was hidden behind a grin laced with traces of melancholy. In spite of that, Peter looked interested. “How do you do it? Do you have implants?”

Implanted what, was the question, and a question he decided not to ask. “With a bow, the old-fashioned way.”

With that, Clint unslung the bow from his shoulder. It was the nifty little collapsible model Stark had helped him develop, and when he extended it to its full length, a bright look of wonder and delight spread across Peter’s face. Like most people, he hadn’t realized what it was, and it appeared he hadn’t recognized the high-tech Stark-make quiver for what it was, either.

“Oh, cool.” Peter held out a hand, eyebrows raised like a question mark, and Clint passed it over to him. “Wow. I’ve heard about these, but never seen one. I didn’t know Earth had them. Are they common weapons there?”

“Not anymore.” Clint reached over his shoulder for the quiver, fingers moving swiftly across the top and selecting a shaft with the ease of practice. The thought occurred to him, as he did so, that the fact he’d spent so many hours practicing with the new tech probably put the lie to his insistence to Laura that he was really home for good at the farm this time, really, no more trips overseas, no more working with SHIELD …

Apparently being offered a trip to outer space had been his Achilles heel.

“Here.” He handed Peter the arrow. Peter took it with more reverence than Clint really thought it deserved, almost like he was having a religious experience. Clint showed him how to fit it to the bow. “This one’s magnetic. Just shoot in the general direction of whatever you want to hit, as long as it’s metal.”

“Not hard. We’re on a spaceship.” Peter grinned his pirate grin, but still he hesitated, something stilling his hand before he released the string. The arrow plunked into the opposite wall and stuck there, quivering.

Peter had a point, the magnetic arrow couldn’t exactly fail to hit something when there was metal all around them, but it was more than that: Peter was a natural at this. Clint could tell. No more than they’d seen of him so far, Clint had picked up on the fact that the self-proclaimed Star-Lord had a skill set encompassing a wide variety of weapons and (in Clint’s all-too-expert opinion) sleight-of-hand and pickpocketing skills as well. It wasn’t surprising that he could apply those skills to using the bow. He had the hand-to-eye coordination for it, and the heart for it. Peter, Clint thought, could be really good at this.

Right now Peter was holding out a hand to empty air. He frowned in puzzlement, and then before Clint could ask what he was doing, walked over and gave the arrow a hard tug to retrieve it from the wall. Aha. Peter must think it came back automatically. Well, that wasn’t a surprise when you were used to dealing with crazy-advanced outer space tech.

“Wanna try another?” Clint asked, reaching back for his quiver. It was a pleasure to work with a talented student.

Peter hesitated, then shook his head and handed the bow and arrow back. “Nah. I don’t think it’s my weapon.”

The way he said it was … Clint could almost get a read on it, but he couldn’t suss out the pain underlying the words. He didn’t have a chance to ask, not that he would have, because just then a shudder passed through his midsection, and Peter’s quick grin flared as he reached out to steady himself on the wall.

“We’re jumping,” he said. “Hang onto something.”

Oh God. This again. Clint was settling the bow into its accustomed place on his back, and therefore he wasn’t holding onto anything when reality warped, settled, warped again. He ended up sitting ingloriously on the floor when the ship and the stars outside the window steadied around them.

“Don’t worry about it,” Peter said cheerfully, offering him a hand up. “First time I went through a shipboard jump, I puked all over the guy who was holding onto me. Who was a space pirate, by the way, so you can guess how that went down. It gets easier.” He guided Clint’s fingers to a handle built into the wall. “There’s going to be one more jump before Cat’s Eye, so hang on and you’ll be fine.”

Peter was right, it was easier this time, like taking a punch when you were braced rather than catching a fist in the stomach unawares. The quick shiver through reality faded away with a humming series of tiny aftershocks and Clint instinctively glanced at the window.

And did a double take.

“Cat’s Eye,” Peter murmured.

Clint was speechless. He’d expected all of outer space to look like the part they’d passed through, a great gulf of blackness littered with stars, like a rural sky at night. But the window, viewport, what-the-heck-ever was full of light, great curtains of shifting and shimmering light, rolling around them in shafts and rippling sheets. It was like being inside an aurora.

He stared, mesmerized, only vaguely aware of the ship’s deck shuddering under him and Peter on the intercom: “Hey, Rocket, little bit close, aren’t we?”

“You said the tourists wanted to see the show,” came back the sharp, somewhat snide tones from above.

“I didn’t mean fly us all into the freaking middle of it! Christ!”

“Be more specific next time!”

The bickering rolled off Clint. He was captivated, watching the colors wheel past them as the ship made a slow, ponderous turn, fingers white-knuckled on the handle built into the wall. The shuddering of the deck eased, and the ship straightened out, gliding alongside the great roiling well of light and color.

“Yeah,” Peter said softly, looking out at it past Clint’s shoulder. “That’s about what I looked like the first time my old man showed me that thing, too.”

[godrive]

With everyone and their grandmas getting their hands on a keyboard and the internet, we tend to encounter typographical errors in social media on a regular basis. While this is generally harmless, it may cause ridicule and misunderstanding among peers – clearly something we don't want to happen. And when it comes to automotive jargon – language that is pretty much complicated on its own – getting technical terms wrong can mean getting the wrong part altogether.

For this feature we'll break down some common typographical errors we've encountered throughout years of trawling the internet. While you may find some of these quite laughable, you'd be surprised as to how many folks still tend to say them the wrong way. Our purpose for laying all of these out is to educate and hopefully correct anyone who may end up using these terms in the near future. So let's begin:

-

EXHIBIT A: BREAKS vs. BRAKES

Wrong: What is the best brand of break pads?

Correct: What is the best brand of brake pads?

Usage: Referring to the system (or parts of the system) that stops the car or the pedal that activates the system

How: Brake > Break

When you're looking for pads for the system that stops your car, you won't want to tell the shop that you want a pad to destroy your car, right? Writing you want a 'Break Pad' may just mean something as absurd as that to another person – we just don't know if anyone's willing to supply you with one. That said, a 'Brake Pad' is the friction material that brings the rotors connected to your wheels to a stop. Your Brake System is a key component of your vehicle and your safety, so it's only appropriate to do it justice by spelling it correctly. The word ‘brake’ can also be used to refer to the pedal that activates the system. This error may have surfaced because both words sound exactly the same – and most may think that they’re spelled only one way.

-

EXHIBIT B: THIN CAN BODY vs. TIN CAN BODY

Wrong: Lady driven, casa-maintained, thin can body.

Correct (ish): Lady driven, casa-maintained, tin can body.

Usage: Used in car ads to say vehicle has no body putty from previous accident repairs

How: Lata > Tin > Thin

The word 'lata' in Filipino pertains to a positive trait of a car's body. This means it is still made straight out of metal without any imperfections corrected by body filler (that's 'masilya', folks). This usually means a vehicle has not been involved in any collision whatsoever throughout its history – and is a word you'll frequently see on second-hand car ads. That said, the term 'lata' can be translated to english as having a 'Tin Can Body' and can be interchangeably used. You know how some folks add an ‘h’ to a child’ name to give it an extra twist? Yeah, the likely cause of Thin Can could be similar to that. You don't want to buy a car that's described to be a slim cylindrical piece of metal, do you? Then don't sell one describing it as a Thin Can.

-

EXHIBIT C: SCUB vs. SCAV(ENGER)

Wrong: "My EK now runs with a scub, bro."

Correct: "My EK now runs with a scav, bro."

Usage: Indicates muffler was removed from original position, leaving just the scavenger pipe underneath the chassis

How: Scavenger Pipe > Scav > Scub

You hear a noisy Honda drive past, and out of curiosity you look behind it to see what exhaust it's running – only to find nothing there. Chances are the car you saw was running something that is called a 'Scavenger Pipe' or 'Scav' for short. The idea behind using a scav is to improve the efficiency of exhaust scavenging in the engine by shortening the exhaust. Considering the muffler is now right underneath the car, supposedly the engine becomes more efficient at ridding exhaust gasses – thereby producing more power. A Scub is... well... we'll let Urban Dictionary answer that one. A possible cause for this error is the average Filipino’s lack of usage of the letter ‘V’ in our vocabulary. ‘V’ sounds are often mis-pronounced as ‘B’, thereby giving root to this particular error.

-

EXHIBIT C: ROCK vs. RACK (AND PINION)

Wrong: "Where can I find a rock and pinion for my car?"

Correct: "Where can I find a rack and pinion for my car?"

Usage: Referring to the steering mechanism of a car

How: Rack and Pinion > Rock and Pinion

If you drive a compact sedan chances are your car is running a Rack and Pinion steering configuration. The idea behind a Rack and Pinion is your steering wheel is connected to a shaft with a pinion gear at the end. The pinion turns a long rack perpendicular to the pinion with matching teeth to push the corresponding wheels towards the direction put into the steering wheel. That said your Pinion gear is not connected to a Rock that magically turns your wheels towards the right direction. We can’t think of a properly decent explanation for this particular error, perhaps some people tend to interchange ‘A’ sounds with ‘O’ to produce this mistake?

-

EXHIBIT D: TIRE BULB vs. TIRE VALVE

Wrong: "I need to replace the tire bulbs on my car"

Correct: "I need to replace the tire valves on my car"

Usage: Pertaining to the device that holds and fills your tires with air

How: Tire Valve > ‘Barbula’ > Bulb

Your wheels and tires do not magically trap air inside after being filled and mounted. In order to control the amount of air that is in there, a Tire Valve is in place to keep everything in check. A bulb will be of no use when keeping air inside your tires, heck it won't even light up since there's no electricity in it. One possible cause for this error may be the Filipino word for ‘Valve’ – ‘Barbula’. Barbula seems phonetically closer to ‘Bulb’ than it is to ‘Valve’, hence likely causing this error. That said, it can simply be a ‘V’ to ‘B’ error much like Scav vs. Scub.

-

EXHIBIT E: THREAD vs. TREAD

Wrong: Used tires. 80% thread life.

Correct: Used tires. 80% tread life.

Usage: Ads or posts selling second hand tires to estimate how used a tire is

How: Tread life > Thread life

Speaking of tires, their lifespan is commonly (but incorrectly) measured via getting the amount of chunk that is left on the tire versus its water channels. These symmetrically lined chunks form your tire's Tread Pattern – and subsequently its life is commonly referred to as 'Tread Life'. Tread is the tracks that your tire imprints on the road, and no string can replicate such patterns. Still, the only correct way to estimate a tires life is the actual condition and, of course, the production date. Another case of adding an ‘H’ to a word to give it a twist, we suppose.

-

EXHIBIT F: DEATHMATCH vs. DEAD MATCH

Wrong: “Momo steering wheel, deathmatch copy.”

Correct(ish): “Momo steering wheel, dead match copy.”

Usage: For pirated products, unfortunately

How: Dead match > Deathmatch

While we certainly do not patronize the purchase of pirated products, the sad reality is there will be many folks selling such items in the market today. What’s worse is these sellers can spell just as bad as their business practices. Saying something is a ‘Dead Match Copy’ of an original item means it is as close as you’ll get to the real thing. A ‘Deathmatch’ is, well, a battle to the death. Considering we only have one life, that is clearly something one cannot copy. Again, we can only attribute this error to another case of adding an ‘H’ sound to make something sound different.

Surely the examples we’ve mentioned above aren’t the only typographical errors around the online automotive market. While we can probably write another article later on documenting other errors, our brain cells aren’t up to the task of being drained with more silly terms just yet. We hope that by reading these you can do your share in keeping your fellow shoppers intelligent by spelling these items correctly.

[imafoxylilringirl]

Place Called Home

Prologue/Chorus: Someday I’ll Go Where There Ain’t No Rain or Snow 

(five years ago)

“That’s the place!” Nick shouted as Finnick passed their destination by almost half a block.

Nick left the van as soon as they were parked and walked to the small, one bedroom two story house. He checked his phone and the picture matched up. It looked... cozy.

Better words come to mind, really. Cramped especially.

The grass was a little overgrown, it was amusing to have found any grass, living in this part of the city but some mammals managed. Older, smaller houses littered between the large apartment buildings often did. They had their own little plot of land. They were more land than house more often than not.

There were a yellow rose bush planted on either side of the pathway up to the door. He had been told before that yellow roses mean friendship and welcome in the language of flowers. They were his mother’s favorite.

She was the reason he was here. Her birthday was soon and her hobby room was growing bare. He looked through some of her knitting magazines and found some projects highlighted. Fibers she never worked with. He did some searches on Cougarlist and found a basement sale. Skeins of angora wool among the list.

He knocked at the door and there was no answer. He waited then found the doorbell pull. She had to be home she had said she was always home in the e-mail.

“That’s rare...” He pulled and could hear the ringing of the melodious bells.

“Ah! One moment!” A panicked voice yelled up from the basement window a couple yards away.

There was a clatter and he realized he had heard thumping noises all along. Would explain why the knocks on the door didn’t get reacted to. Even when steps could be heard close to the door it took a good 3 minutes before it opened.

“H-hello!” A flustered voice and long ears with the thickest, longest, softest, white wool he ever saw answered. The smell of anxiety crashed into him like a wave from the ocean. The wooly folded down and his eyes followed to see a squirmy, dust rag of a young doe with upturned pale, yet vivid blue eyes. She wore ear phones around her neck, sound coming out of them and what looked like a predominately white and green sailor school uniform with a red scarf.

It’s 10 A.M. what was this kit doing home? A bunny home? With this setup I expected goats and old ones at that. Heck older bunnies. An old wi-doe. But a family?

“Good morning, Honey Bunny. Is your mommy home?” Nick smiled and said in his most sweet voice. He regretted it as soon as he heard the snort. She was laughing the hearty laugh of a grown doe. He felt like a fool. What could he say? Bunnies threw him off. He wondered if this was how Finnick felt when mammals thought he was a child when he wanted to be seen as an adult. Or more accurately if they found out he was... at least she laughed instead of dick punched him.

“No, thank the rutting Moon.”

Small paws smacked went up and her own mouth shut. Most mammals didn’t expect words like that from a bunny. Her ears blushed brighter.

“I’m at the very least 10 years younger than you think,” she said smoothing her hands over her pleated skirt. She had forgotten that he was going to be there when she had gotten dressed this morning. She was binge watching the one of her favorite childhood animations and wanted to cosplay today. Who was she kidding? She would have cosplayed even knowing someone was coming. Costumes made her feel secure and like she could be someone else... anyone else.

“I’m Rin. You wanted some of my homespun, right? C-come in.” If she hadn’t laughed tears of anxiety would have more than likely overwhelmed her. Even now they stung her and threatened to spill. She wasn’t the best with meeting new mammals. She was already starting to feel the squeeze of panic in her heart. She saw his ears move behind his head. She knew she did something wrong, she always doing something wrong. Was it when she laughed? Of course it could have been her slip of the tongue.

It had to be a bunny. And of course she’s scared of the big bad fox. I could drown in the smell of her anxiety. Why is she asking me in if she’s going to be that scared? He looked down as her small paw reached out for his larger one and he was shocked when she actually pulled him into the messy living room.

Balls of yarn. Yards of fabric, piles of books and comic books, sketches. And in the middle of it all was a path. A path leading to the kitchen door.

“Sorry about the mess... ” Rin said the inside of her ears feeling like they were on fire. She could barely hear the music coming from her headphones with the pulsing circulating through them. She always loved listening to music. Other than the two people in her life it was her only saving grace when she had to interact with strangers. Or go outside. “I was looking for a book and my current project drawers kinda exploded... heh...heh....”

“Did you ever find the book?” Nick said with a grin of relief, coming to understand he wasn’t the one she had the problem with per se. It was something fast to pick up on. At least to him. He spent most of his days mammal watching.

“Eeheheh...” Ears shot up and back down and a nervous laugh spilled out of her as they walked down the stairs to the basement but she felt loads better with him teasing her. She realized she was still holding his paw and let go. “I forgot which book I was looking for, grabbed a different one that I was looking for last week and decided I wanted again. It’s probably back under everything else that I pulled out of the drawers.”

There were outfits in many different sizes that hung from the pipes that connected water to the tiny house. There were classic music instruments that looked like they were pulled straight from antiquity. There was a weaving loom, a spinning wheel and several drawers and tote bins piled to as high as logic and gravity would sustain... minus the logic. The spinning wheel and the bins were packed tightly together and the weaving loom had just barely enough room around it for it to exist in the small room let alone to have a stool set in front of it. Being a small bun had it’s advantages it looked like. It was clearly the thumping he heard before. Underneath it was a laptop that had the frozen image of a young lioness in an identical school uniform. On the wall, behind the harps, other stringed instruments and photos were rugs of different textures.

“What are you selling?” He was too fascinated by all the objects he didn’t notice her stepping off into an adjacent room that held the house heater or the even smaller if possible room the size of a walk in closet. In the center of the room was a dress form an a silky, shimmery, and beaded white wedding dress that was as stunning as all wedding dresses. Beyond that hanging on the wall was shelf with wooden bobbins and the beginnings of a lacy veil. He was speechless. /HE/ was speechless... “Wow, Snowball. What is it exactly you do?”

“I much prefered the other nickname, Stranger.” Her upturned eyes looked sideways and a soft smile played at her short muzzle. “I do what I can. Mostly I create things, at least I try. I call myself a textile artist.”

“I’d say you succeed, Honey Bunny.” Nick smiled. He could feel her heat rise in a room this small. He wondered if it was from his words or her being brave enough to request it. Then it could have been she dragged a strange fox into her home without even knowing his name. He watched the long wool on her tail bob happily. “Nick Wilde. What all are you selling?”

“You asked that already,” Rin smiled and reached his pads up to touch the wedding dress. She had a heightened sense of weight of things and what they felt like against her fur, her nose and the inside of her ears but she liked seeing his reaction to actually touch it with his pads. It was a completely different sense compared to her sense of touch. She loved differences of all animals. She liked the reaction he had.  “Anything down here except for this is basically for sale. Are you interested in more than the yarn?”

“I might be.”

Rin opened up a gray bin an there was vividly dyed balls of yarn. Nick searched for what he wanted and asked questions about what he needed for his mother’s project. 

“I’m guessing you aren’t selling that beast of a weaving loom or the spinning wheel either.”

“Oh... yeah... if there are any takers. You’re the only person to have come though.” She didn’t sound or look too happy. She wasn’t but she would give anything to reach her goal. She looked up at the dress. “Everything must go. There simply isn’t enough room. Starting a family takes money. Need a bigger house. Need less stuff. Need a real job.”

“Are you looking forward to the wedding?”

“Oh yes! It’s been a long time coming.”

“I’m sure you’ll look beautiful in your dress on the day.”

Rin sighed.

“I still haven’t even decided what I’m making for myself yet.”

“That dress isn’t yours?” Nick’s eyes flicked to the dress.

A hearty laugh rang in his ears again.

“Nope. My twin brother, Sugar, is getting married to Kit. I introduced them a few years back.”

Nick put the balls of yarn into hatbox that was offered to him and they walked through the room with the heater back to the craft room.

“So what’s the story with this?” Nick gestured to the unorthodox collection. “There’s got to be a story.”

“Ho, boy. You just opened yourself up for a WORLD of hurt.” Rin climbed up to the top of the stack of totes and started lowering them to him. “For you see, I am a spinner of yarns a weaver of tales. Do you really want to know the story?”

Nick shrugged and smiled. “I have the time. I have to look through all this stuff, after all.”

“You’re really interested in my junk?!” Rin threw her arms around his waist and gave him the biggest bear hug a bunny could manage.

“If you don’t kill me, Doll!” Nick patted the fluff between her ears. “Now, that story.”

“Have you ever had a dream? Something that was ripped from you? A dream that you gave away after other people tried to rip to shreds?”

[e350tb]

Steven Universe - The City on the Hill - Chapter Fifteen

Fifteen

The door to the bridge flew open, and Captain Student, Stokes and Emerson raced inside. Lapis followed just behind as the First Officer grabbed the wheel.

"All ahead, Mr. Stokes!" thundered Student, "Get some distance between ourselves and that island!"

"Aye sir!" replied Stokes, pushing the lever next to the wheel to full steam.

The ship lurched suddenly. Captain Student and Lapis looked out the window to port - the waves were getting choppy and the wind was quickly picking up.

"I don't suppose that's natural," grunted the Captain.

The ship lurched again and he nearly lost his footing.

"Look, you can control water, right?" he said, turning to Lapis, "Can you keep the ship upright?"

Lapis nodded, raising her arms. The ship lurched back to port, stabilising momentarily in the waters.

"Hold on," she warned, "This is going to get bumpy."

"All hands, man your stations, we have a Code Red. I repeat, all hands, man your stations..."

Amethyst ran into the corridor, ducking and weaving past members of the ship's crew heading to their posts. She skidded to a halt outside Steven's cabin and barged inside.

Steven and Connie were gazing out the window, while Greg was stumbling about the cabin, trying to stay upright as the ship rocked about.

"Guys, we've gotta do something!" she exclaimed.

"Amethyst!" exclaimed Steven, turning around, "Look at this!"

Amethyst ran up to the window, peering through it. A large figure was standing in the water in front of Red Beryl, both pairs of arms crossed.

"Fusion," snarled Red Beryl, her voice booming across the waves.

"I believe you'll find that the name is Sardonyx," replied Sardonyx, holding her finger up at her adversary, "And I don't believe you have a ticket to board this ship."

"I will shatter you and spread your remains across this ocean," growled Red Beryl.

"Well, that banter was pointed but not exactly very witty," said Sardonyx, "But don't worry, I can teach you better. Now, pay attention."

She leapt into the air, grabbing Red Beryl by the head and somersaulting over her, using her momentum to flip her over her shoulders. The big gem slammed into the ocean, causing an enormous splash.

"The trick is," smirked Sardonyx, "To be a little less dry."

She laughed as Red Beryl climbed to her feet.

"Less dry?" she snorted, "Oh, I do that..."

She thrust out her arms. A massive wave of water burst from the sea like a knife. It narrowly missed Sardonyx as she leapt out of the way and crashed into the side of the ship, causing it to pitch violently to starboard and knocking everybody off of their feet.

"We've gotta do something!" yelled Amethyst, climbing to her feet.

"Are you kidding?" exclaimed Greg, "She's fifty feet tall! How would we even scratch her?"

"The gauntlet," said Connie.

"What?" asked Steven.

"Her gauntlet, Steven!" exclaimed Connie, "It might be the source of her power! I mean, by the looks of it she's absorbed all the Gems in providence, right? If we break the gauntlet, we might force her to unabsorb them!"

"Okay, but how do we do that?" asked Steven.

"I think we need something big," suggested Amethyst.

"And probably steel," added Greg, "I mean, I don't remember much about science, but that gauntlet looks a lot like brass. And steel's stronger than brass, isn't it?"

"Somebody say something about metal?" asked Peridot, bursting into the room.

"Where the heck are we gonna find a massive chunk of steel?" demanded Amethyst.

Connie snapped her fingers.

"The railing!" she said, "We can use the one of the bars on the railing..."

"...and I can tie it up in my whip and hit her with it," nodded Amethyst, pounding palm into fist.

"But what if you miss?" asked Greg.

"She won't," replied Peridot, crossing her arms, "I can make sure of that."

The ship jerked again, and Greg fell on his back.

"Dad!" exclaimed Steven.

"I'm fine, son," grunted Greg, "Just...just let me catch my breath..."

Steven nodded.

"We'll be right back, dad," he said, "We've just gotta save the ship."

"Wave, starboard bow!" Second Officer Emerson bellowed.

"Hit it on the bow, Mr. Stokes!" shouted Captain Student.

Martin jerked the wheel to the right. The ship sluggishly turned towards the oncoming wave.

"We're not gonna make it!" shouted Emerson.

"Yes we are, just stay calm," replied the Captain.

"Wave to port!" shouted Martin, "It's a big one!"

"Can you manoeuvre against it?" asked the Captain.

"No sir!" replied Martin.

Captain Student turned to Lapis.

"Then it's down to you, Ms. Lazuli," he said.

Lapis turned to the left, facing down the huge wave coming towards them. She bared her teeth and raised her arms, stabilising the water underneath the ship. The wave approached regardless, and the force became hard for her to fight against.

"Keep steady or we capsize!" yelled Martin.

"I'm trying," said Lapis, visibly straining.

"Mr. Stokes, don't tell her how to do her job!" thundered the Captain, "Just do yours!"

He gazed at the wave as the ship began to shake dangerously.

"Come on, you can do it," he breathed.

The crewman broke open the lock of the weapons locker, throwing it open. Todd and Fourth Officer Rollins quickly stepped forward, passing the weapons inside out to the crew.

"If anything happens to the Crystal Gems, we're the last line of defence," shouted Rollins, "Regardless of what happens we are keeping the passengers safe! One weapon apiece, move on when you've got it!"

"We might as well spit on the thing," spat one of the stewards, looking disdainfully at the revolver he'd been handed.

"Then we'll go down spitting, Mr. Owens," snapped Todd, "Move to the deck, now!"

Owens shook his head and walked away. As he did, Sadie took his place, backed up by Sour Cream, Buck and the Pizza twins.

"We wanna help," said Sadie, "What can we do?"

"Sorry ma'am," replied Todd, "If I gave you a Tommy Gun, the captain would kill me."

He looked back into the weapons locker.

"Then again..."

He reached in and produced a harpoon, handing it to Sadie.

"A harpoon isn't a gun, I guess," he shrugged.

"Excuse me! Third Officer! I demand an explanation!"

Everyone groaned as Farthington marched down the corridor, face red and fists clenched.

"You told me this crisis was over!" he thundered, "Now I find this ship under attack again! Are really so utterly incompetent that you couldn't permanently deal with this the first time? When we get back to port, I am going straight to your Congress and having you all..."

"SHUT UP!"

With great force, Sadie punched the rich man across the face. He dropped instantly, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Sadie turned around, looking back at the stunned crew.

"Did anybody see that?" she demanded.

"See what?" asked Rollins.

"Didn't see a thing," said Todd.

"Good," nodded Sadie, "Now let's get on deck."

She strode purposefully away, the teens following after her. For a moment, Buck stopped to look down on the unconscious businessman.

"That was cathartic," he nodded.

He walked away, shrugging.

Steven, Connie, Amethyst and Peridot burst onto the deck of the ship. Not far away and dangerously close to the ship, Red Beryl and Sardonyx brawled, their battle creating waves in the sea and rocking the ocean liner.

"Give up!" snarled Red Beryl, "You're facing the combined might of the entire city of Providence. You can't win!"

"It's nothing on Empire City," shrugged Sardonyx.

"Your fate is inevitable!" thundered Red Beryl.

"Oh, please," snorted Sardonyx, "The only inevitable things are death, taxes and..."

She swung her hammer into Red Beryl's face, knocking her over.

"...hard knocks," she finished.

Steven whooped.

Red Beryl climbed to her feet again.

"Why stand up for these...pond scum?" she demanded, "What is your fascination with the humans? They're barbarians!"

"Tsk, such ugly language," sighed Sardonyx, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to bring the hammer down..."

She hefted her hammer over her head and swung it down on Red Beryl. The other gem quickly reached up and grabbed it before it could hit her face.

"If you can't use weapons responsibly," she snarled, "They'll have to be taken away from you."

She snatched the hammer, swinging it around and thrusting it back at Sardonyx. With a sickening crash, it swung into her face, cracking her visor and throwing her down into the currents.

"Sardonyx!" exclaimed Steven.

Connie ran up to the railing, pointing to one of the bars.

"Somebody get this thing off!" she exclaimed.

Amethyst drew her whip, hurling it forth and snagging the bar. With a hefty tug, she pulled it free.

Steven and Connie looked over to the fight. Sardonyx was down, clearly barely holding together as Red Beryl brought her own hammer down on her again and again. Steven winced and clenched his fists.

"Alright, we've only got one shot at this," said Connie, swallowing, "Amethyst, Peridot - you ready?"

The two gems nodded. Amethyst swung her whip over her head, building up momentum to throw. Peridot held up her hands, preparing to target the steel bar when it was released.

"Now!" yelled Steven.

Amethyst let go of the whip, sending it flying towards the enormous Gem. Next to her, Peridot concentrated carefully as she controlled it's flight through the air.

It hurtled through the air, everybody holding their breath.

Closer...

...closer...

...closer...

...and then...

...it missed.