#shook to find out its old ass slang

[powerpolyculeshowdown]

IM BACK AGAIN AND THIS TIME IM TELLING YOU WHY YOU SHOULD VOTE FOR THE THREE CABALLEROS!!!

One of the earliest poly couples in media (1942)

Just like Deep Cut and Sweet Cap'n Cakes they are a band who make music (that seems to be a theme in poly couples)

THEY LITERALLY KISS

4. They are always together!

5. CALAMITY TRIO?!?

6. In the 2017 reboot of ducktales they can be seen enjoying singing with Donald UNTIL someone says donald singing sucks and considering this is the same show where Daisy thinks Donald sings great bc she's in love makes me think that they love Donalds voice and are confused why people hate it

7. Did someone say... MORE KISSES?!?

8. UH-

THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY PRESENTATION

Caramba!! Now we're three gay caballeros.

[oracle-of-dream]

Submissive and huh?

Minors DNI

Summary: Your friend Taerae recently learned a new term and wants your thoughts. Explaining it might help him understand properly, but do you have the strength to tell him.

Warnings: Male Reader, Idol Taerae, Student Reader, Lewd faces/Ahegao, Mention of arousal and breeding

Wordcount: 1.2k

Math classes had been kicking your ass all semester and tutoring from the professor wasn't working out. You'd ended up being assigned a study partner. The program was meant for students struggling with the class to help each other. That's how you met Taerae. 

He didn't originally introduce himself as an idol, especially since it was an online class. No one had seen his face. But when you met up with him for the first time to study together, you instantly recognized him from TV. You hit it off over a shared hate for math and spent more time together outside class.

He'd complain about his idol life issues and you'd give him any notes from class he'd missed.

You'd just gotten home from a late-night study session at the library. As if it knew, your phone lit up with a text as you sat on your bed.

TR: Yo! Y/N, I met some fans while out with the members today!

YN: Cool. Don't you meet fans wherever you go?

TR: Well these stuck out!

YN: How?

TR: Well, I noticed them, a bunch of guys, giggling in the convenience store and pointing at me and Hao while we were shopping. I didn't want to embarrass them so I just played it cool and ignored them. But then they came up to me!

YN: Okay, some brave fans? That's it?

TR: Just wait a sec! 

TR: They came to me and told me they were fans. But more specifically, MY fans! Of course, I was happy to hear, but they were foreigners because they used a term I didn’t know.

YN: What term?

TR: Submissive and Breedable?

TR: I know what submissive means, they mean I'm not an aggressive person. That's not entirely true, but I'm submissive at times.

You looked at your phone, blinking a few times. Some "fans" dared to say that!?

TR: I can't find anything when I look it up, it's probably slang, right?

Maybe telling him that his fans want to breed him wasn't the best thing to tell your friend. He was just too wholesome for that.

YN: Yeah, it is, but it's not something cool. No one says it really, it's not the trend anymore.

TR: Really? I know trends, I'm not old, but I haven’t heard of that.

YN: See? There's no reason to worry, just fans being weird.

TR: Well, the photo they wanted was also...off.

YN: Off how?

TR: They wanted me to stick my tongue out and look up at the camera, which was super high above me. To be honest–it felt a little embarrassing to pose like that.

You shook your head trying not to imagine his cute self making lewd faces for a group of boys, but it was hard. And so were you.

YN: You should be more careful, they could use photos like that weirdly.

TR: What do you mean?

YN: Let's drop it. Subject change, what are you doing now?

TR: I'm getting ready for bed, I just got under the covers.

You looked at the clock, midnight was on its face.

YN: Oh shit, I didn't even realize. You should sleep!

TR: No, no, I'm pretty awake. Plus, it's nice talking to you. Did you want to video call while you get ready for bed?

You’d done it before, talking on video call into the night, but it was always a little like Taerae just wanted to see you.

YN: Sure, I'll call you.

You pressed the video call button on your phone. It showed your reflection as you waited, automatically you straightened your hair a little and kicked some stuff on the floor out of frame.

Taerae answered the phone with a smile, the camera close to his face.

You laughed as you set your phone on your desk, "Well hello to you too, why so close?"

"No reason, I just want to see you closely."

"Well, I can see you so closely I can count your pores," You scoffed as you went into your closet to find pajamas for the night.

"Is it weird I'm holding it so close?"

"A little, but it's no big deal. If you don't wanna show yourself then why'd you wanna video call?"

Taerae didn't answer.

"Are you still thinking about what those guys said?"

He shuffled in bed, "Mmhm."

"I promise it's nothing bad."

"Then why don't you just tell me?"

You sighed, "Okay, fine, I'll spill."

Taerae's eyes peered curiously at the camera as he waited for you to come out of your closet. You settled on wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt and shorts. You returned to find Taerae's eyes filled with impatience.

You swallowed awkwardly, "You already know what the submissive part means, but the other part..."

"Breedable," Taerae reminded you.

"Yeah–It means," You struggled to find a good way to break it to him with that look in his eyes. So full of trust and purity. "It means, they wanna do it with you."

Taerae's expression dropped into surprise, "Oh, that's it? I read about that kind of stuff of fans wanting me to have sex with them. That's not so bad."

"Well, breedable means, specifically where you'd be the one getting fucked. Likely by a man. Who wants to... finish in you."

You couldn't bring yourself to look at the screen to see his expression. He'd fallen silent, thinking of a response. It felt like ten minutes passed until he broke the silence.

Taerae's voice was deep and serious, "Y/n."

"Yeah?"

"Look at the screen." You looked at the screen to see Taerae in bed, holding the camera above him to show off his shirtless torso that was mostly covered by the bed sheet except for his collarbone and neck. "Am I breedable right now?"

You felt warm in your face as you answered, "Yeah, I-I guess."

"Submissive, too?"

"Sure," You said as you looked down at your hands.

"Yes or no! Sure isn't good enough, and look at me!"

You complied, looking at him. He smiled before making a face; his eyes looking up at the camera as he stuck out his tongue and held up a peace sign with his other hand.

"Jesus, Taerae!" You looked away quickly. Your heart was in your ears, pounding as the image of sweet Taerae's lewd face was plastered behind your eyelids.

He laughed loudly. "I am, aren't I? Submissive and breedable. I take it as a compliment, they like me that much! To be honest, you look all shy... You look a little submissive too."

You moved your phone so he couldn't see you anymore.

"I was kidding! Don't hide from me!" Taerae's muffled voice shouted from the speaker of your phone. 

After you calmed down, you turned your phone back over to see him still there. Still shirtless, and holding his phone at the same seductive angle.

"You're so weird!" You yelled at Taerae, who just giggled.

"And you still like me anyway. Even with all my breedable energy."

"I'm going to hang up–"

"What!? We gotta see you do the pose too, what if you're more breedable than me, we should test how–"

You cut him off as you pressed the red dial button. You turned your phone off before he could call you again. You lay in bed, alone in the dark, thinking about Taerae's face.

And in the privacy of your home, you test if you can also feel submissive and breedable, making Taerae's new iconic look. A secret he'll never know about... As if you didn't already have a big secret.

[lackingspace]

Null Moon (Marko x Reader)

Rating: SFW

Word Count:5.5k 

Summary: Due to some mad bogus circumstances your hand was forced into relocating to the Santa Carla witch coven. Not exactly where you saw yourself, but beggars cant be choosers or however that saying goes. New coven, new community, no idea how this was going to play out, what could go wrong?

Warnings: Nothing really. Just 80s slang, some suggestive themes, trigger warning for witchcraft I guess, vampire boys doing stalky vampire things, and expanding the magical community at large. Throw in psychic fliting too. The only real warning here is that I wax soliloquy, stopping me is impossible.

So I watched Lost Boys again and Marko just too pretty and wouldn’t stop, so I had to write about it. I’m dedicated to worldbuilding because it pleases me, so no smut yet, but don’t worry, its comin. Enjoy the 80s slang sprinkled everywhere. Out of no where I know, but I hope you all like it ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Part 2: Blood Moon ✧･ﾟ:

Salt was something you’d found yourself trying to quickly get accustomed to. Don’t get it twisted, you weren’t mental and liked it in your food just fine, but it was in everything here. It was bogus, really. None of your new sisters warned you about the mundane annoyances when relocating to their beachfront town.

It was almost insidious how it could worm its way into just about anywhere and everything. Even on days you were a shut-in, your hair still had a salty ocean breeze scent and you swore you’d find grains of sand in the oddest of places. It wasn’t that big of a deal, just another thing out of your control-- one you’d never be able to change. 

The atmosphere answered to no one. Maybe this was the ocean’s way of welcoming you into the fold? Taking it as a sign that the gods were pleased with your departure from the Louisiana coven helped soothe the bitter ache.  

You had other things to occupy your thoughts, anyway. Nothing exciting, just the very normal, very stressful situations that came with moving. Having a not so smooth departure made your integration into this coven rocky. Trying to smooth that out while accommodating for the new energy and dynamic of the community made things difficult. Stressful? Definitely. Normal? Unfortunately. Hectic? Totally, but still necessary to process. 

Getting to know your new coven sisters was also proving tedious, certain views not quite matching up. At least you were kept too busy to really worry over it. Keeping your mind occupied made everything easier. Even if they didn’t know why you’d really been looking to transfer, it was no secret on their end why they’d been so eager to accept you. They’d had a very specific position that none of the current members were willing to entertain. 

A major part of the job was the operation of the coven owned metaphysical shop on the boardwalk, night shift specifically. That had a swirl of mixed emotions bristle your senses- excitement just edging out over apprehension. Your old coven hadn't been open to the human public in any way, shape, or form. The practice was sacred and you were taught to keep it that way.

The only non-paranormal individuals allowed within the walls were partners of the community. A werewolf's mate, for instance, maybe suffering an energetic imbalance would be brought in. So dealing with the stuffy clueless human populace nightly? Well, the idea was less than stellar...but survival required adaptation, and you could be flexible. Still, predicting the havoc it’d play on your nerves was easy. Good thing wine existed because having a glass a day was majorly on the agenda. 

Oh well, every job had to have something and each place had slightly different energetic needs, different spiritual practices, and don’t even get you started on the nuances of rituals- everyone and their mom have their own twist. Baton Rouge had been a prime example of that- a hotbed for the magical community, it was embedded in the culture. Overflowing with a little something for everyone and then some. Different ailments, practices, people, and best of all different magics. 

On the other hand, all that variety came at the cost of a massive headache in interspecies politics. Witches and vampires, weres and goblins, selkies and sirens, demons and wendigos, elementals and everyone, keeping up with who was at who's throat was exhausting. It gave you a gnarly stomach ache frankly, but if that was the price of learning your craft, well, it wasn't that steep.

Headache, stomach pains, whatever- it was a price you'd gladly pay- had paid. Plus, you had loved the community there. Once you got past the politics there was a wealth of knowledge and power just floating around, free for grabs- even when it wasn’t free, there were ways to get what you’d wanted. 

Admitting that your departure had left hella bitter resentment towards your previous sisters was something you actively denied. Your new high priestess hadn’t wanted any hexes sent their way following her acceptance of you. Assuring her it was a mutual departure had been easy, they were extremely desperate and hadn’t really gone through all the hoops to look into it. Besides, it was technically true, there wouldn’t be hexes, just bad blood. There wasn’t really a need to let them know they’d be black listed from the area communals. You’d been to enough of them in the past, they weren’t that special anyway.

Here, alone in the dark with your thoughts, you could sit with the discontent. The choice to leave hadn’t been yours, but you could admit it was for the best. When faced with exile you were willing to sacrifice. Resentment notwithstanding, growth rarely happened if you stayed stagnant for too long. This could actually be a blessing in disguise, even with the perpetual gallons of salt. So here you were; New city, new coven, new people, new rules. 

A sigh escaped you at the thought as you put on a nice balancing act for anyone watching. The rules were certainly different here. 

Less in some ways, more in others- some very curious agreements. Carefully trying, and trying being the keyword, to descend some questionable-looking stairs while carrying delicate cargo. It being pitch black didn't exactly help either, but at twelve am with no flashlight, the darkness was expected. 

Not like you could carry one right now anyway and you’d be caught dead before you put on one of those gaudy forehead lights. A distant bonfire, presumably with partygoers, a few miles off was the only source of light outside of the odd shop still lighting up the boardwalk in the distance. 

Neither were a help to you here, but the darkness didn't bother you much, it was more the feeling of the wood against your feet that had you on edge. Foregoing shoes had seemed like the smarter choice knowing you'd be walking in the loose sugary sand, but with the way it mixed against the rough wood to scratch against the arch of your foot? Regret was front and center which only exacerbating your already agitated mind.

Catching your toe on an uneven patch in the wood had you hissing in pain. Someone was def getting cursed if you got a splinter. Actually, you'd be surprised if you made it out without one. These steps were legit grody, they barely even qualified as stairs honestly. 

Just some half termite eaten planks, driftwood more likely, definitely nothing professional, all nailed together and stuck into the side of a steep sand dune. Falling on your ass at some point was almost guaranteed- You were always a major klutz in these situations.

Shrugging your shoulder and regripping the box, at least the sand would give you a semi-soft landing whenever it happened. 

You should thank whatever beachrat made these stairs though, adjusting your grip on the box again had the jars inside clanking together, water sloshing- good thing you'd tightened the lids before leaving the shop. Thanks to these little stairs you didn’t have to miserably fail at trying your luck in midnight sand surfing. If this was midday you’d have trouble with it still- trying sand surfing now? That'd be so warped. Ugh, just imagine having to make your way back up? Now that'd be a real treat- psych.  

When both feet planted safely, and surprisingly splinter-free, in the soft sand you shook yourself into focus. No more letting your thoughts drive you, way too much negativity to unpack and you didn't need that energy seeping into your work here. Moon-water wasn’t usually the most influenceable, but you could, and with your attitude the way it was? You’d totally choke if you didn’t check yourself. No need to mess up your first job, right?

Breathing deeply you set about focusing your mind; grounding, feeling yourself coming back to a controlled center was the first step of your job here tonight. Tightening your grip and breathing in had the scent of the ocean hit you full force. With practiced ease, focusing inward had your eyes naturally drifting shut and calm settle over you. It was incredible how soothing grounding- ritual in general really, could be. 

Your next inhale highlighted the subtle undertones of the boardwalk overlaid in the breeze, an amalgamation that fused into a scent uniquely Santa Carla. Letting your energy sink deep within you, then lower down still, dropping into the earth, feeling the vibrations of your surroundings- naturally letting it mix with the energies surrounding you. The ocean was a powerful tool, you'd be a ditz to ignore its embrace. There was an unusual magnetic pull in the air, a buzz that licked against your senses.

The full moon was calling, and like the ocean, you were here to answer.  

Centered and ready to work you made your way down to the shore. Funny thing about this new coven, part of the new rules was night rituals were restricted to a single practitioner. That restriction had seemed mental to you, and frankly? You still thought they were a bit out there to bend to such restrictions, but once you learned there was a surprisingly sizable vampire pack in the area it had made more sense. Having just one practitioner was easier for accountability and all that, but like, it was still twisted.

Vampires were picky. They claimed a territory and stuck to it. Any other lucky supernatural creature was subject to their "authority". Barf me out with that attitude. If they weren't solitary, it was usually a duo, anything more than a trio was especially rare. Vampires could be mega volatile in general, but especially towards one another. The fact that there were at least four confirmed vamps in the area? Now, that piqued your interest. Their bonds had to be radically tight to stay together with any type of calm.  

Unfortunately, vampires and witches? Typically not such a hot mix. 

Vampires and magic didn't always mesh well and historically that meant witches and vampires couldn't play nice together. Funnily enough, this coven didn't go against status quo- every sister you'd met so far vehemently detested vamps. Too bad they were smackdab in the middle of fang city. 

The location being legit brill had something to do with how docile the coven acted. It said something when witches were willing to take shit and obey in order to practice. Energetically potent, magically powerful, Santa Carla was a delightful nexus. Not to mention scenic too. 

The coven was desperate for someone to be the designated night ritualist, working the stores night shift was just a caveat. The timing had worked out because you were just as desperate. You thought the whole vampire witch feud thing was lame, but it’d saved you from ex-communication, so you'd keep that tidbit to yourself. 

Vampires didn't bother you really. Well, they could, but not because the vampy bit, just the entitled attitude. Anyone could be a barf bag regardless of what they were. You'd met just as many ditzy witches as narbo vamps. You were more concerned that you'd most definitely have human tourists bombarding you every night. 

What got you though was the craziest part of the deal. When within a 15 mile radius of the boardwalk there was a restriction to strictly restorative work. Even being a nexus, you weren’t sure this place was worth neutering yourself energetically for. Sure, vampire's had their reasons, severe sensitivity to magic yada-yada, not to mention if their bond was as tight as you assumed, they probably felt active magic like nails on a chalkboard, but damn. 

You couldn’t believe the high priestess would agree to it. It really seemed the witches got the short end of the stick here. You weren’t seeing a lot of benefits for yourself. So far your opinion on the coven was….well, at this point you were half-convinced you’d joined a gaggle of ditzes. 

Having taken stock of the ingredients they had on hand a quick glance had made replenishing the monthly moon water a top priority. It was such a simple thing, very useful, super versatile, and no one in the coven had been willing to make a large batch of it. Ugh, imagine letting prejudice get in the way of making such a staple ingredient. There wasn't anything fancy that went into it. A cool head, even temper, patience, and a little prep was all that it needed. 

That’s what you were here for now, though. They could keep their dislike and eat their cake too. Still, you weren’t completely obstinate and took their warning to heart, it wasn't just the vampires that made the area witches refuse the night shift. 

Santa Carla wasn’t exactly Disneyland. Murder was a thing and it happened here daily. Nexus’s tended to have a magnetic draw. Pulling in powerful things, good things, weak things, bad things- the sheer unpredictability wasn’t a friend in this case.  

A random human could decide tonight was beach shanking night and you’d be the lucky victim. You’d like to see them try at least. Maybe one of the vampire pack would break the agreement if they were feeling a bit nippy? Doubtful if they didn’t want a war on their hands, but possible. A stray wendigo attracted to your energy feeling a midnight snack seemed more likely. Could even be a banshee needing a quick meal. Never can tell how things were going to work out. 

Knowing yourself though, you’d probably just trip up those hella grimy stairs and break your neck.

You weren’t too worried about being attacked though, honestly. You had wards in place and if it got past that, well, you'd deal with whatever it was then. No use worrying about it now. You were more than happy to take on the privilege to essentially moon bathe on the beach while funneling the energy to the water. It was good on all levels.

Walking to the area you’d scouted during the day set your mind back into focus. Setting the box down, the jars jostling while you grabbed the blanket hanging off the side of the box. Spreading it out and setting up your area had everything falling in place. The jars spread just along the outside of your circular blanket, with that done you sat yourself down in the center.

Determined to do this right you brought back that focused rooted energy. Using this as an opportunity to release some built-up tension would be a good idea too. Let the ocean wash away your bitterness with the tide and allow the moon to shift you into clarity for whatever was to come. Even if you did think your new sisters were idiots, they were to be your idiots and you had to embrace it.

As you laid there working the energy and letting it shift, you noticed a curious sensation at the edge of your perception. 

A slight tickling at the fringe of your awareness; soft, so extremely soft and subtle that if you’d just gone about your business and hadn’t been so introspective focused you’d totally have passed it over. 

Watched.

The subtle sensation wasn’t threatening as of yet, but you were definitely being watched. By what? You weren’t sure. Getting a firm reading on it was difficult. The more you focused on the energy the further it pulled back. Pursuing it only had whoever it was slyly staying just out of your grasp. 

Definitely not human. Wouldn’t be a witch or a medium either, they’d just answer your psychic questioning. Could be a were, you’d heard they’d been in the area recently. The next brush sent a shiver down your spine and had you crossing weres off. It was definitely too silky to be one, they always felt gruffer to you, wilder. Possibly a demon, they had that shade of sensuality and always liked to follow you around in new territory. A quick flash of tightly-wound sharp control coated in a mischievous air finally spit out the answer; Vampire.

Satisfied, you dropped the pursuit and turned your attention back to the sea. Subtle brushes returning, but this time not trying to hide itself or their interest. So one of the new overlords had decided to drop in on their new subject? That was just fine as long as they stayed watching and didn’t interfere. 

You’d give it to whichever vamp this was. They had wicked nice energy. Like, once you got a read on that was. Playful, cheeky almost to a fae’s degree, brimming with an elusive danger, while still having a quiet peace underneath. That quiet calm resonated inside your own field and was exactly what you needed to settle back into your space. You didn’t hate the idea of their company so much.

You’d expected a run-in at some point, but right away? They were some go-getters to the max.

Nothing came of it though, the watcher had just been that. A watcher. When three am came, went, and passed, you’d decided to pack things up. You felt their vigilant gaze the entire time. Even after you got in your car and motored on home, it was still with you. It was only after you entered your home did their light press on your awareness leave. 

The rest of your week played out much the same. Feeling that attentive gaze in every outside ritual from start to well after the finish. Even while you were working the shop they’d pop in and out of your awareness only to settle when you were locking up for the night.

You’d tried to catch a glimpse of who your designated monitor was, but it proved an impossible task. Stealth was a vampire’s friend and this one was incredibly apt. They stayed just far enough away during ritual and on the boardwalk you were too busy entertaining space cadet humans or dealing with an actual client to seek them out. 

On that note, there was a surprising number of shapeshifters in the area, changelings especially had been a nice treat. They weren’t exactly common in Louisiana and working with them was always interesting. They required a delicate eye and full attention when diagnosing their condition. 

A shapeshifter’s physicality was entirely based on energy manipulation, so one wrong push or pull and you could injure them more than help. Pinpointing where your attentive observer was out in the crowd became annoyingly out of the question. 

They’d turn up eventually. Until then, however, you’d just have to sit tight. Lucky for you changelings had a penchant for gossiping. They’d been kind enough to give you a rundown on the pack and their opinion of them. Changelings weren’t known to have easily won loyalty, so the popular opinion on them being pretty rad, was surprising. 

They were apparently chill on the authority, which was shocking enough, but they said the pack leader, David, could be hella genial. Vampires weren’t usually described that way. Not outside of the anyone they were glamouring anyway. Maybe the coven weren’t such spazes to reside here.

Friday saw your week coming to a close. You’d woken up ready to put your first week behind you and spend the weekend really exploring the area. There was a nice hiking trail not too far away that you’d really wanted to spend some time at. A few brownies had spirited into the shop and mentioned it as a great area for herbs and ritual during conversation. 

Brewing a second cup of tea, calming herbs this time- regular humans really did get on your nerves with their incessant brainless questions and barf bag attitude. There were a few mediums that'd dropped in who you didn't mind, actually really liked, but the rest of the human race made you want to gag. Lumping witches and poor mediums into the same category didn’t seem fair.

The night was steadily cruising along. The humans came in bursts, sporadic, but manageable. Client-wise, nothing too dramatic either, the most interesting case was a few sprites suffering a nasty goblin hex. It was an easy enough fix, orders on how to use the herbs, and a cautionary chastising to leave the gobbies alone unless invited. They giggled their departure as you shook your head, sprites never learned. 

The night's energy had you listless. Only a few hours left before you could close down shop and you were antsy. No pressing ceremonies to perform tonight for the coven either, so heading straight home to open that bottle of wine you'd acquired before your arrival was on the top of the to-do list. 

Curiously, your nightly specter hadn't visited once. It was surprising how fast you'd gotten used to a vampire’s energy body. If you were honest with yourself, you'd even come to look forward to having it- him, the changelings had listed only male vampires, being a steady sensation on the outer edges of your senses. 

The absence of the strange new routine left you with an unsettled itch. Something was off, you could tell, your antsiness screamed of something about to happen, you just weren't sure what. 

The answer came not too long after that. With a lull of what you assumed to be the last customers of the night, you’d busied yourself restocking and starting to close down. High on the shelf ladder reorganizing the herb wall. It got so messy with the daily run-through of customers’ grubby hands all over it. Turning a jar forward as the bell above the door sounded. 

"Welcome! I'll be-" the energy that zapped your senses had you cut off the greeting with a sharp inhale. Thank the gods you hadn't been holding one of the glass jars, it'd be smithereens otherwise. 

The shift had hit you instantly, an electric buzz that lapped against your mental self. Giving you a clear idea of what just walked in. Four of them. They'd all come. Shifting through the sensation, trying to grasp each of their unique patterns had you stopping short when you felt your chaperone's energy reach out to you.

It wasn't just a soft prodding like usual, instead, it was like a full-body caress. More like a lick if you were honest. 

Skin tingling, electric sparks sent down your spine settling somewhere you'd rather not question right now, and if your nipples had tightened from it? Well, that was nobody's business. Beneath the shameless lick was an urge of reassurance. 

The unspoken highly nuanced language assuring you of safety. Thank the goddess you were fluent. It was odd, really, a vampire reassuring a witch of their safety? You weren't prey, not if they wanted the coven to stay placid. Even if they’d decided to attack you weren’t helpless. The kiddie gloves would come off quicker than lightning and then they’d see what was up. 

They’d definitely break you, but you’d do some damage. So there wasn't any rhyme or reason to make you feel safe or calmed. Nothing you could think of except for your own peace of mind. It had a giggle bubbling up, but you clamped down before it could escape. 

You appreciate the sentiment regardless and dragged your energy against his in return, showing your mirth, and if he was apt enough to recognize the instant anxiety their entrance caused, he'd feel the praise underneath.

Taking a deep inhale before steeling yourself. You'd anticipated that it was only a matter of time before a meeting. The high priestess had said it’d come at some point when they felt ready, so you were decidedly not going to freak out and treat them like any other customer. Even if one of them had already made your nipples pebble. 

You were also so ready to end the mystery of what your babysitter looked like. Putting a face to, well not a name, but an energetic signature rather. Stepping down from the ladder you made your way towards the front counter. 

They were milling about between aisle shelving so getting a clear look wasn’t working. You could see bits of hair, flashes of leather, and hear their banter- typical dudes messing with each other. You were right, hearing how affable they were with each other solidified that they def have a legit bond.

Waiting another minute behind that counter still hadn’t made them come to you. Sighing before you decided to speak up, "What can I help you with tonight?" That had the laughter in the back trickle off before a rumbling voice spoke out, "Many things, maybe nothing. Depends on what you're offering." He hadn’t needed to emerge from the aisle for you to feel the leer paired with that statement. Ah, so David was the edgy type. You could work with that. 

What you might stumble over though, was just how pretty they all were.

Don't get it wrong, Vampires were supposed to be attractive, it was part of their thing. A magnetic and alluring shift happened to them all when they were turned, but this? This was on another level. 

The vague memory of lessons from your old covens compendium on vampiric lore came to mind. It’d stated the first vampire came into existence born by way of an incubus mingling in a maenads rites with a medium. Their resulting child the first vampire. 

Who knew how accurate those stories were, the compendium was specific to each coven; an enduring collection of their line of knowledge, but authenticity was always questionable.

Looking at them all as they emerged- really made you believe there was some weighted truth to the legend. Incubus certainly seemed like it was mingled up in them. You’d been gifted by a few incubi once upon a time and the similarities between them and these boys? Striking. Between their movements, their magnetic presences, and the brazen way they gazed at you. 

The vampires in Louisiana were all charming, but it was all a subtle compulsion. It didn’t help that they typically had a bad attitude mixed with antiquated style. They just never appealed to you.

This pack, however, seems like they’d had no problem keeping up with pop culture. Embracing it wholeheartedly, one of them looked like he moonlighted in poison for crying out loud. Maybe they were young, but you got a vibe that hinted otherwise. More like they were adaptable.

Trying to keep a straight face, professionalism and all that, was difficult, but doable. At least you thought it was, but once you locked eyes with a pair of soulful hazel- there was no doubt that they all felt the psychic warble you let slip accidentally. 

He’d been the elusive watcher this week. There wasn’t a question about it, a perfect face to match his auric self. The breath you’d been holding choked out when he broke into an impish grin followed by what was essentially another playful full-body kiss. 

You swore you could hear a purr resound in your mind. The three subordinates chuckled when you drew in a sharp intake. 

“Marko.” David's tenor was soft, but firm. Marko? Cute. Without breaking eye contact, his smile widened mischievously while he raised both hands in surrender. The undivided attention was unsettling in all the right ways. 

Sparking a heat that undulated throughout you. Tabling that information to the back of your mind, you broke the gaze. Needed to if you were going to have any kind of brain function for conversation.

Turning to the de facto leader you sized him up. Or tried to. Definitely threatening, actively making it hard to read him. On the surface he felt like a cold blade; sharp, decisive, piercing. 

Good qualities for a leader you supposed, but like, damn, that didn’t sate your curiosity. If he wasn’t going to work with you then that only left the boring way,  “David, I presume?”

He raised a brow with a pleased look, “Good. The little crone knows who matters around here.” Bo-guuus, edgy with an attitude. Those changelings either lied or were talking about someone different because genial? You weren’t seeing it. Aiming an unimpressed look paired with a, “Mmhmm” brought a chuckle of his own. 

Waiting for him to speak again seemed like the best option, you weren’t very good at small talk, and Marko was still so very distracting. After David’s chiding, he really hadn’t let up much. He might not be doing that lick thing with the delightful heat, but what he was doing wasn’t far off. 

Going out of his way to make sure a large portion of your attention was still focused on him by continually baiting you; almost like energetic petting. If you weren’t trying to have a serious conversation you’d bask in the new attention. You weren’t a cat, but you imagined this is what they must have felt like. Psychic flirting was always fun, but his attention had it quickly becoming your favorite. 

With him doing it in front of his pack though? Any sensible person, witch especially should be uncomfortable. Totally pissed if not outraged- it was definitely a claim, unnervingly possessive, and you shouldn’t like the blatant territorial display, but for some reason, it stroked something deep in your harebrain that majorly worked for you.

Before you could drop down that rabbit hole further David brought you back, “You’ve been a busy little witch this past week.” Annoyance fluttered in, what’d he expect? There hadn’t been a night ritualist for over a year. There was a lot of work to do, some things just couldn’t be done during the day. 

You shrugged “Ha, massive understatement. New coven, new clients, way too many neglected things to catch up on. Seems like you should thank me for taking over.” 

The look he gave you was piercing and indiscernible. You weren’t really sure where you stood with him. You hadn’t done anything to step out of the bounds they’d placed on you, but somehow with the look he was leveling at you begged the question, had you? 

Mentally retracing your week yielded nothing. Hadn’t even tried to hex anyone, even that human who’d cut you off on your drive in Wednesday night, now that’d been difficult. Was this why you’d had such heavy surveillance? Not that you’d minded, but here you thought it was just your shining personality. 

“Keep it up. The community needs a witch with some spine.” Maybe you’d spoke too soon, he might not be so bad. 

“I wasn’t so sure about you. Word on the street and all.” That had you freeze. Not even Marko’s continued attention phased you. There was no way he knew anything. That was impossible. Your new coven didn’t know, your old coven wouldn't dare let anything slip- it wouldn’t just be you who lost face. 

There was no way anyone knew anything about you or why you’d moved. It had to be a bluff, a well aimed taunt. It was common knowledge that witches rarely transferred covens, it happened for a multitude of reasons- good, bad, ugly. He was just being a dickhead, a nosy dickhead. 

Forcing a calm mask even though you were sure they could all hear your rapid heartbeat, trying not to play into his bait, “Oh? Word on the street? I have a rep already? Bitchin’.” 

Anxiety was a mega issue for you, so not having a cow and playing it as chill as you did? A total moment for you. clammy hands, rapid heartbeat, clenched jaw and all. That pulled a laugh out of Marko and the hair band look-alike while David and the clydesdale in the back wore smirks. 

“Word is the new witch isn’t from the clique. Never can tell what you little hags are planning, bringing in new blood?” He leaned forward across the counter catching you with his piercing blues, “That has trouble written all over it.” 

You were slow to process what he’d actually said, too caught up in how the light glinted off his pretty eyes. There was no denying it, so you didn’t try, “For sure,” but on second thought you didn’t want to make it sound like you were here to start shit, “but change isn’t always bad.” 

He tapped the glass of the counter before he pushed off, “We’ll see about that, little hag”. That must have been the signal to leave because he’d started walking towards the door with the silent type in his shadow. 

Marko hadn’t moved, hadn’t dropped his attention and you were nervous to return it. Too likely to get caught up in something now that they were all leaving. You liked it, but it was still like mega nerve-racking. 

Before you could work up the confidence to engage with whatever that was, the taller blonde slapped his shoulder, “I like this chick! She’s got some spunk!” 

He made to push away from the vampire still comfortably leaning against the counter, but something had caught your eye. Without thinking, your hand shot out like a viper to grip his wrist before he could walk any further away, “Wait up!” Marko’s purr, or whatever that buzz he was coating you in suddenly sputtered out.

With everyone’s attention returning, you dropped the skin contact and made your way around the counter. Standing in front of him while quickly giving him a psychic once over. His tallness made it very inconvenient to look for the physical indicator of what you suspected. With a yank to his shoulder you spoke before you really thought how it’d be taken, “Bend down and show me your teeth.”

[13uswntimagines]

Playing With Fire (Alpha!Emily x Alpha!Lindsey x Omega!Reader)

Request: Alpha!Lindsey x Alpha!Emily x Omega!Reader:  Like R used to play for Barça and got close to Mapi León, but it was only bc she protected R from handsy alphas not bc of a mate thing. So, when the US and Spain face off, they reconnect and make each other laugh on the pitch. This irritates R’s alphas and they become more aggressive toward Mapi and more possessive of R. After the match, R takes a moment to be w Mapi, but then she gets dragged away by her alphas. It could be vulnerable? Or imply smut?

2016 was not a good year for you. By the end of the summer, your missed PK had been named as the reason the US lost the Olympics by the media and fans, and your relationship was on the brink of collapse. Every conversation with your alphas turned into a screaming match, and you were tired. Tired of the fighting. tired of the fans saying you weren’t good enough. Tired of the sideways glances from your teammates. 

So, when your manager told you Barcelona wanted you, you jumped at the opportunity to go and make a new, untarnished name for yourself. 

Your mates were not so thrilled. You all said things you didn’t mean, and closing the door as you left that night felt like the final nail in the coffin of your relationship. You held it together as you navigated the airport alone, part of you hoping they would come despite changing their relationship statuses on all their social media. They didn’t, and by the time you landed in Spain you were a mess and the entire world knew you were no longer a National team member or Emily and Lindsey’s omega. 

Your first months with Barça were eye-opening. Yes, you had lost your relationship, but you had also gained a friend. Mapi was assigned as your roommate, and the two of you had clicked right off the bat. She held you when you cried at night, distracted you when they were posting on social media, taught you Spanish slang, and helped you put the broken pieces of yourself back together again. 

The team had also embraced you with open arms, quickly becoming more like the family you had left behind. However, the other teams weren’t so welcoming. With your mates basically disowning you, it was like Iowan season had been called on you. Alphas would target you, and allow their tough to linger far too long after a tackle. 

You had tried to keep your head down and ignore it, but your new team wouldn’t stand for it. Mapi would scent Mark you before every match, making sure that anyone who came close to you thought you were claimed again (for the really bad matches she would leave a dark mark just visible on your neck during halftime). 

Word spread like wildfire and suddenly you were getting calls from the mates that had all but disowned you. You had scoffed at first, blatantly refusing to talk to them. They had ignored you for months, so why shouldn’t you do the same for them? Coincidentally it was Mapi who would get you to talk to them again (how she had gotten them to show up at your apartment you didn’t know, but that was a story for another time). 

Yes, you had worked everything out with your alphas, and they were happy that Mapi had protected you.

But, that didn’t mean they liked her. Jealousy was an ugly beast that was difficult to kill. A beast both of your alphas could feel risings its head even with you wedged between them in the tunnel, giggling at the Spanish alpha. 

“A tu vejez te estás volviendo lenta” (you’re slow in your old age) you laughed, sticking your tongue out at the woman. Emily’s arms tightened around your waist, as Mapi took a step towards you, 

“Patita cuidadosa, Esta anciana te va a patear el culo” (careful ducky, this old lady will kick your ass). She hummed, wagging a finger in your face. 

“En tus sueños, abuelita,” (in your dreams granny) You cackled, rolling your eyes and winking at Lindsey (who leaned in to kiss your cheek). 

You weren’t blind. They were incredibly protective over you, and sometimes that protectiveness was fun to play with. Mapi was your friend, and they knew that. It was just difficult not to be jealous when Mapi was the one to help you pick up the pieces they had left behind. 

“You know we love it when you speak Spanish babe, but we kinda have a game to win,” Emily murmured, nuzzling her nose into your cheek as the lines started to move forward. Lindsey’s hand on your arm nudged you on and you sighed, pouting at the Spanish alpha. 

“Vaya Patita, Hablaremos más tarde,” (go ducky, we’ll talk later) She nodded, a mischievous glint in her eyes. 

You pushed off Emily, trudging forward in your spot between Alex and Ali. Emily and Lindsey hung back, glaring at the Spanish alpha. 

“Stay away from my mate,” they said, slow and deadly. Mapi shrugged them off. She understood their jealousy better than anyone else. She would probably feel the same way if their positions were reversed, but the pheromones coming from your mates were uncalled for. 

“Worry about your own goal and leave me to worry about her,” Her lips tugged into a smile that had too many teeth to be nice, and she released a puff of her own scent. 

****

You would say that the game was going amazingly. An assessment that was heavily influenced by the ball that had just left your foot slamming into the back of the net. 

You raced towards your own goal, your arms outstretched in celebration, and right into the arms of one Mapi León (much to the ire of your mates). 

“Estupenda meta patita!” (Great goal ducky) She cheered, lifting you up and spinning you around. 

“Gracias, No podría haberlo hecho sin tu defensa,” (thank you. I couldn’t have done it without your defense) You laughed as she set you on your feet. She paused, sending a glance over your shoulder, to where Emily and Lindsey were staring at the two of you. 

Mapi immediately let you go, holding you at arm's length as she sent your mates a short nod. She knew how difficult watching you with her was for them, and how you liked to poke the bear so to speak. 

You turned to follow her gaze, rolling your eyes at the way Emily and Lindsey were basically pacing a circle around you. 

“Vete a abrazar a tus amores antes de que me maten, pequeño mocoso,” (go hug your mates before they kill me, little brat). The Spanish alpha said softly. You hacked out a laugh, beginning to pull away anyway. 

“No te preocupes, deja que los cachorros esperen. Es más divertido así” (don’t worry about the puppies, let them wait. It’s more fun that way,) 

“Incluso los cachorros se envidan” (even puppies get jealous)  She said seriously, giving you a stern look. You rolled your eyes again, beginning to saunter off. 

She shook her head. You were definitely one of a kind, that was for sure. One of the few omegas she knew who would go toe to toe with alphas and tease the crap out of them to get what you wanted. They were just as whipped for you as you were for them. 

You were in engulfed in the warm arms of your mates the second you were away from the Spanish alpha. Lindsey buried her nose in your neck, skimming over your scent gland

“Great goal babe!!” She breathed into your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“Spectacular. Definitely, something that deserves a treat later,” Emily added, her warm body enclosing you from behind, her lips finding the other side of your neck. 

You sighed, your head rolling back onto Emily’s shoulders. God they could turn you to putty so easily. Their dominant pheromones wrapped around you like a blanket. You smiled playfully. “Hmm, I know what you two are trying to do,”

“Is it working?” Emily asked, her teeth grazing the edge of her mating mark. A smirk pulled across your features, and you abruptly pulled away. 

“No, we have a game to win,”

*****

The cheers around the stadium as the final minute of added time wound down was defining. Your team had comfortably beaten the Spanish Women’s National team, 5 to 1. You were particularly happy because 2 of those goals happened to be your own. 

You cheered excitedly, running right into the arms of your tallest alpha, giggling as she lifted you into the air. 

“We wonnnn!!” You yelled, using Lindsey’s shoulders to boost yourself even higher in the air. She held your hips tighter, pulling you into a hug and burying her nose in your hair. 

“All thanks to you baby girl,” She mumbled into your hair, breathing in the exciting pheromones you were releasing with a smile. It was intoxicatingly sweet, like walking into a Krispy Kreme while the donut sign was on (though not nearly as sweet as it was during your heat). 

She suppressed a growl at the thought of anyone besides her and Emily getting to bask in your scent. They knew you had been playing on their protective instincts, you liked it when they got possessive, but they were nearing the edge of their tolerance level for the Spanish alpha. 

“You and Emmy helped too,” You hummed into her collarbone, a smirk forming on your lips. You never did know how to quit while you were ahead. 

“But you are the one who scored the goals,” Emily added, hugging you from behind, casually making what everyone on the team referred to as a Soran sandwich. You allowed them to hold you for a few seconds, before an idea formed in your brain. They were being slightly possessive, scent-marking you and all, but it wasn’t enough. 

“Hmm, speaking of goals, I need to go thank Mapi for her defense again,” You said, your head popping up over Lindsey’s shoulder and sticking your tongue out at the Spanish alpha who was smart enough to stay away from you. 

“Yeah, no,” Lindsey huffed, the arms around your waist holding you impossibly closer to her, her nose nudging where her mating mark sat proudly on your neck. 

“You know it’s not nice to tease,” Emily added, her teeth nipping at your ear and skimming down the collum of your throat. You closed your eyes tightly, their scents and touch threatening to pull you under. Your lips ticked up, your hands traveling down their bodies and landing on their growing bulges. This was turning them on as much as it was turning you on. 

“Well, what are the two of you going to do about it?”

Suddenly you weren’t standing between the alphas anymore and instead were thrown over Lindsey’s shoulder (totally not enjoying the spectacular view of her ass you had). 

“If you want attention, you don’t have to flirt with our mortal enemy,” Emily smirked, her fingers hooping your chin as Lindsey carried you deeper into the stadium. 

“She’s the one who convinced me to listen to your dumb asses,” You rolled your eyes, placing your elbow on Lindsey's back and using your palm to support your chin so you could look Emily in the eyes. 

“Well I think our asses have something very important to take care of,” Lindsey laughed patting your butt and Emily wiggled her eyebrows. 

It was going to be a long (fun) night. 

[sorenskyhigh]

Ok... this boy in my school that I'm friends with and likes me can speak fucking Korean and it just does something to me. I keep telling myself that 2D boys are better than 3D boys but like I cannot help it (he is from fucking Ireland btw). Anyway, if you get where I'm going with this... Tendou, Aone, Kenma and a character of choice with a spouse who can speak a different language... be creative with the languages queen and go crazy. Also as a scenario :) THANKS BESTIE :)

Ooooo i love this! Yes! I gotchu! Need a reminder of the real good men, FICTIONAL

A s/o Who Speaks Another Language

Includes Tendou Satori, Aone Takanobu, Kozume Kenma, and of course my pick is gonna be Kuroo Tetsurou but just for fun I'm gonna throw in Hanamaki Takahiro

Tendou Satori

Satori loved being in France, the language, like any, was hard to learn. Still, he loved everything about the culture here. You being his language tutor was a big help as well.

Since most all of your conversations were in French, unless you were practicing your Japanese (you wanted to learn it for him), Satori never knew you were fairly fluent in Arabic.

Arabic is one of a few of the most spoken languages in France (next to French of course and contending with Spanish, German and couple of others), so a good many people could speak it but Satori had no idea you could.

The first time he heard you speak it when you were trying to give someone directions.

You both were lounging about in the grass in The Champ de Mars, the Eiffel Tower at your backs.

It was a day off for Satori and he wanted you both to have a fun lunch out. Satori and you had both worked and cooked up a lunch to take with you to eat out in the sunshine.

You both were munching on some food, his long arm around your waist as you leaned into him when a work friend of yours came up to you.

"Hey, y/n, can you give her directions? She's trying to find her hotel I think?"

"Sure," you said, before standing up and engaging her in conversation. Turns out she was trying to find the Pullman hotel, it was known for its great view of the Eiffel Tower.

She was an older women and had no idea how to use her maps on her phone.

You gave her some quick help before she was on her way. Your friend thanked you, telling you they had no idea what to do and were so glad they saw you.

With a goodbye you turned around to join Satori and his eyes were wide in cartoony shock. You chuckle a little.

"What?"

"I didn't know you could speak, well I don't exactly know what language that was but, that was really amazing!" With that he jumped up and wrapped his arms around you , kissing the top of your head incessantly.

"Yeah, there were a lot of people at my old job that couldn't speak French very well so I learned Arabic to help them out."

"Arabic? Is that what that was?" He pulled away to look at you in excitement, his eyebrows shooting to the stars. His smile was wide and ever so slightly crooked.

"Yes," you barely get out through your giggling.

"You sounded so beutiful!" You could practically see the hearts in his eyes as he stared at you.

"Thank you, it's been awhile,-" Satori cut you off before you could dog yourself.

"Oh, my dear Paradise, as always you sound lovely. No matter the language."

He proceeded to quiet your protests of how shit your thought you were in Japanese with a rather passionate kiss.

He always surprised you with these in public. Satori wasn't shy to show affection in public, he just doesn't show it like this much.

You had to stop him when his long fingered and boney hands slowly wrapped themsleves around your ass cheeks.

Aone Takanobu

Nobu never said it, but he loved the German nicknames you gave him.

He truly loved a of them. Like when you call him your Liebling (darling) when you're asking for him to grab you something you can't reach. Then there's Schnucki when he does something cute or sweet, like when he got you something you had been wanting for a long time for your birthday.

All of these and the many more you use are great, but his favorite is when you call him your Knuddelbär. He melts when you refer to him as your cuddly bear.

You tended to use it when, obviously, you two were cuddling. Like tonight. You both were cuddled together in bed, his big, strong arms wrapped around you with his nose firmly planted onto the crown of your head, taking in your scent.

You had your face securely settled into his broad chest. His large heart beating and rumbling through your skull. It was relaxing.

Nobu liked feeling your smaller heart as well. He's such a big guy that, it didn't matter how big you were, he was bigger and absolutely loved it.

You were mostly asleep as you intook a large breath before sighing contentedly. You were barely able to get out a mumbled, "Knuddelbär," before completely passing out.

Nobu was officially awake, his face red as hell, and his mouth stretched into a massive smile as always. He sighed lightly into your scalp as he squeezed his eyes closed.

His arms wrapped around you a little tighter as it always did. His lips barely forming a kiss to place on your head.

Nobu knew he wouldn't be able to sleep for awhile. He just loved it too much.

Kozume Kenma

You played game with Kenma all the time. And he loved it. His absolute favorite thing is when you get angry and start angrily yelling.

You'd always revert to Filipino when you'd get angry. Kenma didn't like seeing you irritated or angry per se. But he did love see you get angry at video games. Of course he wanted to be happy and live happily and comfortably, but he always at the very least, cracked a smile when you'd start angrily yelling about who knows what when something happens in a game.

Like right now. There was a level you both were trying to get through. Kenna kept getting a little behind because he wanted all the extra stuff in the level. You on the other hand were trying to keep the bad guys off his back.

It was always in the same spot. Seven tries now, where you had died and had to restart the level. You were so angry that you kept making smaller and more ridiculous mistakes as you both went on.

Well you had a enough. It started out with gritted teeth mumbles as you about broke your controller from the grip you had on it.

Kenma told you to wait for him but that just angered you more. You wanted to get through this level. Honestly it wasn't even that. You wanted to destroy that mini boss.

The idea consumed your entire being. It needed to be destroyed or you wouldn't be able to sleep or rest.

So you charged forward and were taking it on on your own and, well, you were obliterated, once again.

Your hands shook as you death-grip clenched the controller. Your entire figure was shaking with rage. You were going to explode in three.......two.........one........

Now you were angrily yelling at the game and controller in Filipino. Kenma just sat there, too. Oh-so-calmly was he, with is controller in hand. His back slumped with terri ke posture as his lips lifted ever so slightly into a smile. He tried to hide it, he really did.

Kenma knew all too well what it was like to be in this situation. He had raged on camera definitely more than once for this very same reason.

But he just couldn't help it. You were all worked up and angrily pointing your finger at the screen after you had just as angrily thrown your controller on the couch.

Kenma stood up and very silently pinned your arms against your sides. He looked you straight in the eye for a moment. He liked to see you get angry, but he also knew when you should calm down and relax.

"Puddin'," he said very calmly and quietly. You stopped, smoke practically spewing from your ears. He simply wrapped his arms around you, still holding your arms down. You slowly lifted your arms as much as you could, and hugged him back.

He very lightly kissed you on your cheek before starting to rock you both back and forth. Nothing was said; nothing needed to be said.

Kuroo Tetsurou

Tetsu loved hearing you speak Spanish. He loved learning about the difference in the Spanish spoken in Spain, Mexico, Argentina, Peru, and all the others.

You knew so much about the history of the language and how the culture in each country would change that slang so much. He loved when you would go on long tangents about it.

Tetsu especially loved when you sang in Spanish. His absolute favorite thing is when he get home from work absolutely exhausted and he hears you singing away as you're cleaning, making dinner, in the tub, or whatever it is that you're doing.

For example, on this particular evening, you were taking a much needed soak in the tub. Lovely smelling soaps and a couple of candles to give a nice dim light for a nice calm vibe.

Bubbles tickled your chin as you sang away. The noise echoing slightly against the walls around you. It didn't matter whether you had a magnificent voice, an average one, or a terrible one. You were just enjoying the moment.

You heard the front door handle jangle and knew Tetsu was home. You continued to sing as you heard the door open and close. The shuffle of him replacing his shoes with house slippers skitter down the hall to you.

You hear him coming closer, dropping his suitcase and then haphazardly throwing his suit jacket, more than likely on the back of the couch.

You continued to sing as his steps got closer. Then you heard a shuffle at the doorway. You opened your eyes and looked. There stood Kuroo Tetsurou, his black button up shirt stressed across his chest, his tie dangling around his neck.

He stood against the door frame, eyes closed as he listened to you. His eyes looked tired, the same as his small smile.

You continued to sing. You sang and sang until the end of the song. At the end, Tetsu smiled so happily. He opened his hazel/yellow eye to look at you. His smile quirked into a smirk as he took some tired and lazy steps towards you.

He sat himself on the edge of the tub. "Mmmmmm, my Spanish Siren. Trying to sing me a song to pull me under the depths to have her way with me, then leave my carcass for the sharks." He snorted a little at the end as he gave slow loving strokes to your cheek.

You hmmed in satisfaction before oh so calmly saying," Like this?" With that you grabbed his arm and caught him by surprise, making it easy to tug him into the full tub, water splashing out onto the tiled floors. His loud, raucous laughter as well as yours rang throughout your home.

Hanamaki Takahiro

You are his baby, his sweetheart, his lovely. Hiro loved you so much. Everything about you just amazed him. One of the many things that just amazed him, was how you sounded speaking Italian.

The first time he heard you, he was blown away. Your voice was so sexy, not that it wasn't when you spoke Japanese. There was just something about it though that he found incredible.

Hiro would urge you constantly to speak in Italian and even teach him a little. You spoke it so much that he, naturally, picked things up.

He always tells you that him speaking Italian just did not have the same ring to it as you.

"Kah-"

"Kah-"

"Mirrah-"

"Mirrah-"

"Day-"

"Day-"

"Laetto."

"Raetto."

"See, you've almost got it. Camera de letto. Try again." You say. Hiro had been wanting to learn how to say bedroom in Italian. He was having some troubles but he was surprisingly good with learning it though.

He sighed in slight defeat. "I just can't do it like you do, la mia gioia." He loved referring to you as is 'joy' but in Italian.

"Please, just one more time," you encourage him.

"I think i need a little incentive, la mia gioia," he looked at you with a small sly smirk.

You sigh before turning to him, "Quindi vuoi incentivi? Che ne dici se smetto di aiutarti?" (So you want incentives? How about if I stop helping you?)

"Oh, you sound so sexy," you cut him off with a loud laugh.

Im sorry it took so long to get this out! I've been feeling a little better and have been having actual ambition to write and wanted to do my best! Thank you as always for sending in an ask!!

@kneecapstealingalien @multifandombrainrot @vaniatslover @popcorntime-doodles @i-need-coffee-now-pls @jiheonity @shadowsbutdead @goshikisimp @anothershadeofpink @mestayanon @ghostexhibit @smallmangi @thatfunnysprout @backalley-astrologer @itsallgonnabokayihope @g00s3 @boreateo @weareallhumans123 @lil-mellow-bunbun @strawberrymakki @beelziee @mehreenackerman @taiyahhh @sakusasgerm @cr4z3d-cl0wn @detective-lazy @mainnews32 @turtletris2tumble @oshun22 @syirahtorizawa @wouldsimply31 @sadisticbelle @queenkaye33 @h3nta1t0ast3r

[fedeipox]

The Way of Time (Rdr2 fanfic) - Chapter 1 (2/4)

Hey there! Yesterday was Thanksgiving! 

For a simple Italian girl this holiday seems so strange and exotic to me and I have never seen a whole turkey in all my life (not IRL anyway). I hope it was a good day for all the American people around here!

Part 1 here: https://fedeipox.tumblr.com/post/635776269297008640/the-way-of-time-rdr2-fanfic-chapter-1-14

Words: 2,5k

Chapter 1 (2/4) - What year is it?

A warmer place, that was all she could think about and if the price to pay to reach it was telling them her name, she was more than willing to pay it.

“I’m Dutch Van der Linde, Miss Emily, and these are my men” said the picnic-man pointing at the people walking around them. “I must warn you, we are outlaws.”

She knew it! She thought looking at him with her eyes wide open.

“Oh, don’t worry, we won’t touch a hair on your head. You see, we’re criminals, but we’re not bad men. Not when we can avoid it.”

Weren’t they the same men who just robbed a train? How could they be criminals without being bad? It was a contradiction. She fixed her eyes on the ground as they kept walking, thinking about the nonsense that man was saying.

“You’ll ride with Lenny.”  

Just when she lifted her gaze she understood what he was talking about. Right in front of her there were around three thousand pounds of well kept horse meat, including saddles, bits and stirrups. 

They rode horses? In 2020? They were really old style criminals those ones, but she… she had never rode a horse. She didn’t know where to start. She didn’t even like horses. 

It wasn’t something personal, but since her father told her horses were dangerous animals she had always been afraid of them. They were dangerous under all aspects, he had told her: they had big teeth and powerful jaws that could cut your fingers with just one bite; they had four strong legs which they used to kick you if you went too close to them; they were big, but they were unaware of their force and got scared pretty easily and could throw you away from their backs any moment.

No. In no way they could have convinced her to get on one of those things.

“Don’t you have a car?” she asked.

Dutch looked back at her with a perplexed expression. 

“You know something less… alive?” she added nodding towards the animals.

“Don’t worry, Lenny is an excellent rider” said Dutch.

“It’s not him I’m worried about” she murmured taking a few steps in the direction of the boy of color. 

He was next to one of the horses, petting its neck and whispering soothing words to it.

“Her name’s Maggie” he informed her when she reached him.

Her eyes moved upon the strong muscular neck of that creature, then down its leg until she reached the hoof that it was nervously stomping on the ground, and then up again until she met its crazy bloody eyes that the creature pointed on her. That thing was warning her, it was telling her “if you only try to touch me, I’ll show you how hell it’s done”. 

No, she would have found another way, a bike, a moped, on foot, she didn’t care. 

Lenny raised a leg, put the foot on the stirrup and hoisted himself, sitting perfectly on the top of that dangerous killing machine. 

“Now your turn, Miss. I’ll help you” he said reaching out a hand signing her to take it.

Emily, without moving her eyes from the boy’s face, shook her head with conviction. 

“I’ll help you, lady” said a voice from behind her back and a moment after she felt herself being lifted from the ground by two robust hands and pushed towards the horse. 

Even though the last thing she wanted was to mount on a horse, as an instinct she grabbed Lenny’s arm and sat astride on its back. They gave her no time to get used to the new sensation she was proving. Someone, who she thought to be Dutch the boss, yelled “let’s ride” and she had to clutch around Lenny’s waist not to fall back. 

Emily tightened the blanket around her shoulders with one hand while with the other she didn’t dare let Lenny go. She had to admit, it wasn’t such a bad experience: apart from the constant up and down it was very similar to riding a motorbike; she just had to clench her legs around the beast and her arms around the boy’s waist. 

As they kept going, she felt the temperature of the evening air drop and that was the sign that they were taking her to a higher ground, up and up in the mountains. Just now she was understanding why nobody had heard neither the gunfire nor the explosion: they were in the mountains and, even though she wasn’t very good with geography, she could still tell that the mountains covered with snow in May had to be somewhere in the North. Only, she had no idea how much North, nor how she got there.

She lost track of time, she couldn’t tell anymore how long she had been on the back of that horse, moving her eyes from the sky to the earth, both of the same bluish white that made the landscape look all the same. The only thing that changed during the journey, and that could give her any idea of what part of the day it was, was the light: all around her darkness was falling and soon she wouldn’t be able to see the tip of her nose.

Besides, the boredom was forcing her to focus on something else, like her frostbitten fingertips, her feet inside her soaked snickers, the smell of the ass of that horse. Yes, she hadn’t noticed that before, but that horse really stank. 

Something else that she hadn’t noticed was that they weren’t following any road, or if there was a road, it was completely overwhelmed by the snow. That was strange, too. What state was capable to neglect the safety of its citizens in such a way to leave the roads in that condition?

“We’re almost there, Miss. We're camped a little more North, in an old mining town” said Dutch.

Old mining town. Was he talking about one of those towns of the past which afterward developed into industrial or trade cities? Why couldn’t he just say ‘we have a hotel room in the city’? Why they had to play all that trivia game about “old mining towns” and “camps”? Was it some kind of gang slang?

But when they slowed the horses down, that meant they had reached the “camp”, what she saw made her understand they weren’t making a wordplay: what she was looking at was a true old mining town, and as they got to the entrance, on a wooden sign almost completely hidden by the darkness, it was engraved: “Colter”.

“You can get down, Miss” said Lenny turning to look at her as they all stopped the horses.

Emily looked first at the boy’s face and then at the ground. It was covered with snow and jumping down she would have dipped down till her knees. 

Next to her there was another one of those strange criminals: he had an old style bowler hat, a ridiculous parted thin black mustache and he had just dismounted his horse.

“Can you help me?” she asked reaching out a hand in his direction.

He looked at her like she was asking him to bring her to the moon, but after a moment of obvious confusion he said “sure” and walked closer, taking her from her waist and helping her to get down gently.

“Miss Grimshaw, we found this girl on the train, would you warm her up a little and find her a place to sleep?” she heard Dutch’s voice saying.

...

“Ah, another one?” asked Miss Grimshaw looking at the blonde skinny figure who just dismounted the horse.

This was the second woman Dutch brought in in those last few days, without counting the O’Driscoll, who they weren’t going to feed anyway, but he still was an addition to the group.

“She says she’s been kidnapped” answered Dutch.

With a sigh and a gesture of her head she told him she would have provided for her, just like she had done for Mrs. Adler.

“Come with me, Miss. Let’s get you warm” she addressed the girl.

Rising her lantern a little, so to spread the light even  farther, she observed the girl as she walked in her direction, stumbling in the high snow and tightening the blanket on her chest, under which she could still make out those unusual clothes. Together they reached the main shack, where some minutes before she had left Marston’s bedside to rush out when Mary-Beth informed her of their arrival. 

“Here” she said pushing the rickety door that let them both inside the crowded room.

“There’s the fire, so you can get warm” she said pointing at it and closing the door again to avoid that little heat inside the room to go away.

“Miss Jackson will bring you some dry clothes” she added putting out the fire of the lantern.

“No” she heard the newbie saying and she turned around to look at her.

Tilly froze in her place, with her legs still half bended in the act of standing up, hoping that the girl’s objection would have changed Miss Grimshaw’s mind, so that she didn’t have to walk out of the room and face the snow, the cold and the darkness.

Everybody now was studying that odd figure standing in the center of the room and looking around her like she was in some kind of bad dream: she was terrified, but they couldn’t understand why. 

They had saved her, they were giving her a warm place to stay for the night and probably some food too, so why was she afraid? She should have been grateful, thought Karen frowning at her.

“Sorry, but… what year is it?”

...

Emily kept moving her eyes around her, focusing on the long wide skirts of the women, the hats of the men and the overall look of the people around her. Her nose caught all the shades of the moldy planks of the walls, the burning wood in the fireplace and the smell of badly washed bodies. 

The clothes, the locomotive, the explosives, the horses, the old mining town, the camp. Why didn’t she think to ask it before? It seemed impossible, but at the same time it was the only possible explanation. She just had to put two and two together.

At her question they all exchanged some puzzled looks. 

“It’s the year of our Lord 1899, what a question!” answered a male voice behind her making her turn around.

There were four men in the room: one, who seemed to have had some kind of accident, was asleep on a cot; one, with a pair of tiny glasses and a rat face, had his nose buried in a book; one with a reddish mustache, had his dark eyes lost in the air; and the last one, an old man with a white beard which made him look like a Santa Clause wannabe, was the only one looking at her, so Emily supposed that voice belonged to him.

“1899” she whispered analyzing the man’s face to understand if he was making fun of her. He seemed dead serious and so did everybody else in the room. 

That explained why she was there: she had made a jump in time and, unfortunately for her, she must have arrived inside that train, which brought her away from Saint Denis and right in the hands of those criminals. 

1899. It was one hundred and twenty one years before. What a strange number, 121. She always thought time leaps happened with round numbers: 100, 200, 300. Actually, she thought time leaps only happened in the movies, sci-fi movies, like “Back to the Future”. 

Now what? She should have told them? They would have probably thought she was nuts. But how could she explain her situation? How could they help her? 

She froze: no-one could help her, because in 1899 no-one had the slight idea of how to make a jump in time. What was she thinking about! She hadn’t any idea of how to make a jump in time, either! Because it was impossible! 

She was starting to panic. She was stuck in 1899, in the middle of nowhere, with a bunch of dangerous outlaws and she probably would have never go back to her home, her family and her friends. So, what was she going to do?

Her heavy breath and her wide open eyes caught the attention of the people in the room.

“Are you okay, honey? You want to sit down?” asked a woman with red air and an Irish accent taking a step in her direction and putting a hand on her shoulder.

Emily moved quickly away from her when she felt her touch. 

“Sit by the fire, we’ll get you something to eat” she added.

Eat… 

She fixed her eyes on her freckled face.

“Fuck the fire, fuck the food and fuck you!” yelled Emily slapping her hand away.

Now the woman’s look changed, she didn’t take those words too good, but she couldn’t care less. Emily started pacing the little space inside the room which wasn’t occupied by a table a chair or a person. She was definitely panicking and she knew she wasn’t good at controlling herself. 

She had lost everything, everything! Her job, her family, her friends, her life, her future, everything! It was all gone! What was she supposed to do? Her limbs started to feel heavy and her eyes started to fill with tears. 

“Don’t worry, you are safe in here, no-one is going to hurt you” said someone, but she didn’t focus on the person who pronounced the words. 

They couldn’t understand, no-one could understand what she was feeling in that moment. Everything was fucked up, gone to hell, destroyed, vanished from the world, forever. No. No, that couldn’t be real. It was a joke, a bad joke someone was making to piss her off, and it was working. 

“You!” she snapped pointing her finger to the face of one of the women in the room.

“What year is it! And don’t you try telling me a lie, I want the truth” she said with a high pitched tone, the kind of voice she had when she was nervous, stressed, scared or any other moment of non-calmness.

“We already told you, it’s 1899, so calm the hell down and don’t point that finger to me” answered the girl.

Emily groaned with frustration and turned to look at the door. She had to get out of there, reach Saint Denis, go back home, look for her parents, look for someone who wasn’t part of that act.

She took the blanket from her shoulders and threw it on the ground, looking at the people around her, those people who where doing her wrong for no apparent reason. Then, she took two big steps and reached out a hand to take the doorknob, but in that same moment, the door busted open. 

[takenbyemrys]

Chapter 1/4

Pairing: Peter Parker/Harley Keener

Summary:

Peter had never met his boyfriend irl. Yes they skyped and knew each other, but it was never really enough. When Harley mentions a special surprise that he's sending Peter, the boy is obviously excited, but first he has to get through a party that Mr.Stark decided to throw.

Each chapter can be read as a oneshot

@potatobaby

Hey sweetheart, hows the school day?

@peterwithaB

Fucking SUUUCKS

@peterwithaB

Ya know, the ushe

@potatobaby

Excuse me? The what?

@potatobaby

I will never understand your NY slang

@peterwithaB

Like you have room to talk Mr.y’all’dve

@peterwithaB

Like tf.

@peterwithaB

On another note, are we still on for tonight?

@potatobaby

Like i would miss a date with my sweetheart ;) I have a surprise for ya, so don’t be late

@peterwithaB

:*

Peter slid his phone into his backpack with a grin. He shoved it under the dumpster this time, hoping no one would steal it this time. Peter flung himself through the city with ease, keeping one ear open for crime. His other ear was listening to Ned and MJ argue about physics.

“Hey guys,” Peter perched on a gargoyle.

“Sorry Peter, what’s going on?” Ned asked.

“No, nothing crime related. I was just wondering what you guys thought about Harley?” Peter held his breath, waiting for their answer.

“Jesus christ Parker. Your dating a super hot southern belle that you’ve never met in person. It’s the equivalent of having a girlfriend in Canada. If I hadn’t skyped him with you once, I wouldn't have believed you. However, he’s great. Why?” MJ snorted. Peter smiled under the suit.

“I want… I want to meet him.” Peter murmured.

“Awe, dude.” Ned crooned. MJ snickered.

“Peter, there is a mugging on the corner of 12th and 31st behind Tower Cleaners.” Karen interrupted.

“Thanks Karen, guys, gotta put ya on hold.” Peter leapt off the gargoyle and swung toward the mugging. The mugger was holding up a girl, probably around fourteen.

“Give me your goddamn money kid. I’m not gonna tell you again.” The guy was pretty average looking, with a butterfly knife clutched in his hand. Peter dropped right behind him.

“That’s so rude. Any no way for you to ask someone for money.” Peter said. The man swung around, the knife making a wide arc. Peter sucked in and arched his back, missing the blade by a hair. “Like there should be a please, and at least like begging because your moms dying or something. Like honestly, swearing at kids? What the fuck?” Peter dropped to the ground and swept the muggers legs out from under him. The man hit the ground and before he could get up, Peter webbed him to the ground. Peter turned to find the teenage girl pressed against a dumpster.

“Hey are you okay?” Peter held up his hands.

“Yep, I'm good. Holy fuck. Thank you Spider-man.” She half stuttered.

“Do you need a ride somewhere? I can help you get wherever you need to go.” Peter held out a hand.

“Nah, my bus stops only a block away. Thank you.” She darted in and hugged him before sprinting from the alley. Peter grinned and started walking up the wall. “Karen, please inform the police of the mugger in the alley.” He chirped.

“Of course, Peter. I will let you know if I find any more disturbances.”

“Okay guys, I’m back.” Peter tapped back into the group call.

“Good, what are you going to do about Harley?” Ned asked.

“I don’t know. I mean, it’s not like we have anyway to see each other. Neither of us are rich enough for a plane ticket. Plus next year we’re both going off to college. We’ve never really talked about the future. We always avoid it.” Peter sighed and relaxed back on his gargoyle.

“Stop being such a loser. Ask Stark.” MJ said. Radio silence ensued.

“MJ there is no way i can ask Mr.Tony Stark to fly my boyfriend, who he doesn’t know about, to New York. How can I even ask that? Mr. Stark, can I borrow your private jet? Oh just for this person I've never ever met in person.”

“Nah, just be like ‘Stark, I’m ridiculously in love with this southern piece of ass, and I need to meet him.’” MJ said. Peter could hear her smirk. He blushed and sputtered.

“MJ! I’m not… I’m not in love with him. I’ve never even met him in person.”

“That was the least convincing thing I’ve ever heard you say Peter. And you tried to convince me you weren’t Spider-Man after you jumped from the ceiling.” Ned laughed.

“Well, I refuse to go anywhere near that. We haven’t even kissed yet. What if it's not right? What if we don’t fit together like we do on the internet? Guys I’m fucking terrified.” Peter took a deep breath.

“Peter, you guys are super good together. Even if its long distance, you really know how to be there for each other. Remember when Harley’s sister went to that party, and he called you absolutely panicking? You talked him down so fast. And when you got stabbed that one time? He was able to calm you down enough for MJ to stitch you up. And you didn’t even let out that you were stabbed.” Ned assured.

“If you give me anymore doubts, I’m calling Shuri.” MJ effectively ended the discussion. “Hey, someone needs to explain the Heisenberg uncertainty principle. Harrington made absolutely no sense.” Peter launched into the explanation and rolled off the gargoyle. He swung around a bit longer until he headed back to his backpack.

“Okay, Peter, I think you went a little above and beyond on the explanation.” Ned laughed.

“Quantum physics is exciting okay?” Peter crawled under the dumpster and whooped in relief. His backpack was still there.

“Alright loser. Go have a nice date with your boyfriend. We’ll see you tomorrow.” MJ ended the call without another word.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Pete. Don’t let yourself get all worried about this okay? If it bothers you that much, talk to Harley about it.” Ned reassured his best friend.

“Thanks Ned. I’ll let you know how it goes?” Peter said.

“Of course dude.” Ned ended the call. Peter changed quickly and walked the rest of the way home.

“May, are you home?” He called when he opened the door.

“In the kitchen!” She called. Peter made his way in to find her scrutinizing a cookbook. “Hey honey, have any time to help me cook?” She grinned sheepishly.

“I have my… thing with Harley.” Peter rubbed the back of his neck. May lit up.

“Date. Your date.” May sighed. Peter blushed “That's probably for the best. I’ll order Thai?”

“Yes please! And yes. It’s our regular skype date.” Peter skipped into his room.

“How was patrol?” May asked, she had followed him to his room, but she was looking at the Thai menu.

“Good. Saved a girl from a mugging.” Peter pulled out his laptop.

“That’s awesome Pete. Did you stay safe?”

“Yes Aunt May.”

“Do you just want the usual?” Peter nodded. “Cool, i run and grab it.”

“Stay safe!” He called as she walked away. He ran his fingers through his hair before calling Harley. The southern boy answered in less than a minute, a massive grin on his face.

“Hey sweetheart.” Harley greeted. Peter automatically blushed.

“Oh shut up.” Peter looked away with a grin.

“So, what happened that sucked so much? MJ being mean during decathlon, again?” Peter snorted.

“MJs always mean. But, no. Flash was just a dick again. Same old same old.” Peter rolled his eyes. Harley’s eyes narrowed.

“What did that motherfucker say this time?” Harley half growled. Peter smiled softly.

“Well, you know I have an internship at Stark Industries?” Peter refused to lie about that to his boyfriend. It was common knowledge on the SI website. Harley grinned. “Well, he kept going on about how I got the internship. Like bad ways.” Harley took a deep breath.

“Peter. I know, you’re big into the handling it thing. But you need to tell someone. What about someone at SI? Who do you report to?” Harley didn’t really know much about the internship. Peter was pretty secretive about everything, stating that he had signed an NDA when he started. Peter shook his head.

“I won’t bother anyone there. I’m the youngest intern there. Everyone else is in their late college years. And I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

“Have you thought about college?” Harley shifted nervously.

“Honestly, I’ll probably end up at NYU. I know MIT would be a better fit. And I know I'd get it, but I really don’t think I can leave New York.” Peter rubbed the back of his neck. Harley nodded. “What about you?”

“I have no idea. I still don’t know what to do about Abbs. I don’t know if I can leave her here alone.” Peter nodded in understanding. Abby was the most important person in Harley’s life, without a doubt.

“So, I seem to recall you having a surprise.” Peter steered the conversation away from the heavy stuff. Harley lit up with a grin.

“Okay, so I don't know if I want to tell you. Or just surprise you with it.” Harley smirked.

“Harles. Come on! I don’t do surprises that well.” Peter whined.

“Sweetheart. I think you just made up my mind. I’m not tellin ya.” Harley grinned. Peter dropped his head on his desk to the sound of Harley’s laughter.

“Pete!” May poked her head in his room and held out a bag of Thai.

“Oh yes! Thank you May!” Peter grabbed the bag and hopped back into his desk chair. Harley grinned at his boyfriend.

“Dork.” They talked for another hour before Harley had to head to bed. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow okay?” Peter nodded and gave him an embarrassed smile.

The next morning, Peter received a text from Mr. Stark reminding him that Happy was picking him up after school. Nothing was going to ruin internship day for Peter. No matter how much of a dick Flash was.

After classes, Ned and MJ helped him speculate on the surprise as he waited for Happy.

“What if he’s coming to New York?” MJ asked.

“There’s no way. Neither of us have the money. Anything he makes at his mechanics job goes to being an adult.” Peter perked up at the sight of Happy’s car. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow!” He sped off toward the car.

“Hey kid.” Happy greeted. “Hi Happy! How’re you?” Peter asked.

“I’m good Pete. How was school?” Peter rambled as they drove through the city. When Happy drove into Tony’s private parking lot, Peter hopped out with a grin.

“Thank you Happy!!” Peter bounded over to the private elevator.

“Welcome back Peter. The Boss is currently in his private lab. He has asked that you meet him there.” FRIDAY spoke softly.

“Thank you FRIDAY!” Peter took the elevator directly to Tony’s lab.

“Hey kid. How was school?” Tony was leaning over a tiny arc reactor.

“It was good Mr. Stark. Whatcha workin on?” Peter sat on a rolling stool across the table from Tony.

“Just a little project for a friend. So, i know you have projects to work on,” Tony put down his tools and pulled off his goggled. “But we are actually going to run errands.”

“Like shopping?” Peter asked.

“Yep. I haven’t gotten a chance to talk to you about it yet. We’re having a gala party thing on Friday. Pepper and I decided that you’re gonna go.” Tony stated. Peter’s jaw dropped.

“But Mr.Stark,”

“Tony.”

“Mr.Stark, are you sure you want me to go?” Tony’s gaze softened.

“Of course Pete. I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn't. Plus I have someone coming into town that I want you to meet. Now, lets go. We have to get you a tux.” Peter scrambled after Tony. They went to four different shops until Tony found the tux he wanted for Peter. The kid almost fainted at the price tag, telling Tony that he couldn’t afford it. Tony just snorted and turned back to the salesperson.

Afterwards, Tony drug him to a ridiculously expensive restaurant, and refused to let Peter order the $30 side salad.

“Mr. Stark, this is too much.” Peter tried to say.

“Pete, you’re not a regular intern. Pep and I have agreed on that. Now when’s your next decathlon meet?” Peter launched into the details of the next meet with ease. After dinner Tony drove them to Peter’s apartment.

“Remember, Happy will pick you up here at six on Friday. Make sure you bring your bag to spend the weekend, okay?” Tony reminded Peter. The boy rolled his eyes and jumped out of the car.

“Alright, Dad. I’ll see you later!” Peter ran up the stairs shaking his head. It wasn’t until he closed the apartment door behind him that he realized what he said. He froze as the door slammed. May looked up from the couch.

“Peter, what happened?” She asked. Peter reached up and grabbed his hair.

“I just called Mr. Stark Dad!” He cried. May tried to cover a snort with her hand.

“Well, what did you do today?” She asked.

“We went shopping. There’s a party on Friday, so Mr.Stark decided I needed a custom tailored tux.” May’s jaw dropped. Peter brandished the garment bag. He hung it up in the hall closet gently.

“Well, damn. Come here and tell me about it.” May gestured to the seat next to her. Peter crawled on the couch next to her and groaned. He recounted the day while May ran her fingers through his hair. He fell asleep halfway through the story.

He woke up the next morning with a grin. He found a couple messages from Harley.

@potatobaby

Hey darlin, how was the internship?

@potatobaby

Peeeeeeter, im booooorred,

@potatobaby

Fine, be that way, see if i tell you about your surprise :P

@peterwithaB

Meanie. You know its going to be killing me till i find out.

@potatpbaby

Itll be there on Saturday okay?

@peterwithaB

YEEEAAAS ok i have to go to class

@potatobaby

Have fun. Punch Flash in the face for me

The day was slow, but Peter was really looking forward to the party. MJ kept having to elbow him to get him to pay attention during practice. Peter wasn’t able to skype with Harley that night due to patrol after practice. He collapsed on his bed and passed out in his suit. May chuckled the next morning when she found him. She snapped a picture and sent it to Tony. Who replied with a teary emoji.

“Yeah. He’s such a dad.” May said to herself. She shook Peter awake and went about her routine. Flash was in a mood during the day. Peter found himself pulled into the boys restroom as soon as he was out of Ned and MJ’s sight. A couple minutes later, Flash left the bathroom with a smug look. Peter pulled himself up off the floor.

“You can’t punch him back Peter. He’s a weak human. You’ll probably kill him.” Peter said to himself quietly. His hands shook as he pulled out his phone. He called Harley on autopilot. It rang for a minute before Harley answered.

“Hey, sweetheart what's wrong?” Harleys voice was low and obviously concerned.

“I just really need you to talk. If that’s okay.” Peter shuddered out another breath.

“Pete, are you hurt?” Harley asked.

“No, I’m okay. Just need to keep a level head, so i don’t murder Flash.” Pete ground out. He pulled up his shirt to see a large bruise forming on his side. He didn’t worry too much, as it would be gone by midnight, but fuck it hurt.

“What happened?”

“Nothing, what are you doing?” Harley sighed. He was leaning against the car that had driven him to the local private airfield. Tony was about to jog over, but Harley held up a hand to keep him away.

“I’m getting your surprise ready. Making some last minute adjustments.”

“Aren’t you in school?” Peter asked.

“Nah, I decided to skip the day. This sounded like more fun.” Harley grinned. “Darlin’ I'm always here if you want to talk about what happens okay? There are options, and I have friends in high places.” Harley murmured. Peter chuckled.

“Thanks Harles. I needed this. Okay, go back to your surprise. I’ll talk to you later k?”

“Course sweetheart.” Harley slipped the phone back in his pocket and sighed. He stood up and grabbed his duffel bag. He jogged over to Tony, who was staring at him curiously.

“Abby?” He asked.

“Nah, now are we going old man? I have things waiting for me in New York.” Harley clapped Tony on the shoulder and started climbing the stairs to the private jet. Tony just snorted and followed.

“You have a party waiting first and foremost. There’s someone I want you to meet there. So be on your best behavior.” Tony scolded. Harley slouched in a large chair.

“Aren’t i always?” Tony just rolled his eyes and settled in for the flight.

**

Peter stayed in the bathroom until the class period was over. He knew if he walked in that late that he’d have detention, and he couldn’t afford that today. He slipped into the halls when they were full and was determined to keep his head down the rest of the day. In his last class, the only class he had with MJ, Flash kept sending him nasty smirks. MJ’s eyes flicked from Peter to Flash and her eyes hardened.

“Peter. I know you have a hero complex bigger than Stark’s, but you have to tell him.” She said quietly. Peter looked at her, panic in his wide eyes. “I’m not an idiot. Tell him.”

“I’ll think about it, okay?” Peter looked down at his hands and started doodling his web shooters. MJ leaned into him slightly.

“Okay.” After class, Peter ran off to do a quick patrol before getting ready for the party. When he got back to the apartment, May was staring at his tux, which she had hung on his door.

“You think we can sell it to pay rent for the next ten years?” Peter asked. May snorted with laughter.

“I think we could sell it to buy the building. He really went all out for this party. Why does he want you there?” She asked. Peter shrugged.

“I have no idea what it's for. I know there’s someone he wants me to meet? I’ve met all the avengers already, maybe a scientist?” Peter speculated. He leaned into May’s side. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“Maybe he’s trying to set you up?” She snickered.

“Ugh, I hope not. That would be so awkward. Especially because apparently Harley has a surprise for me tomorrow. So if a package arrives, don’t open it.” Peter held up a finger and glared at his aunt. May held her hands up in surrender.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Okay, Happy is going to be here in an hour. Get dressed, let me go find a video on how to tie a bow tie.” May closed the door behind her with a smile.

Peter slipped into the tux with ease. He fiddled with french cuffs for a second before realizing he didn’t have any cuff links. Peter grinned when he looked in the mirror. He went into the bathroom and pulled out the styling gel that May had bought him. He ran his fingers through his hair, making the waves stay out of his face.

“Pete!” May called. Peter walked into the living room to find Happy waiting with a small bag.

“Tony asked me to bring these.” Happy handed him the bag and Peter bounced with excitement. Inside he found custom silver cuff links that were in the shape of his spider symbol.

“Holy crap, these are so cool!” He slipped them onto his cuffs and held them out for May to see.

“He wanted to give you Iron Man ones but Pepper put a stop to that.” Happy chuckled. May rolled her eyes and mouthed ‘such a dad’ to Happy, who nodded.

“Wow, May will you?” Pete gestured to his bow tie. May stepped forward and started trying to tie it. After three failed attempts Happy stepped forward.

“I got it.” He did up the tie with ease.

“Thanks Happy!” Peter went back to his room and threw some clothes into his backpack, along with his laptop.

“Got everything you need?” Happy asked. Peter nodded and hugged May.

“You let me know the minute something arrives tomorrow okay?” Peter asked. May nodded.

“Of course I will Pete. I know how important it is to you. Now go have fun and drink some fancy champagne for me.” May ushered them out the door with a smile. Peter climbed in the back of the car and immediately started fidgeting.

“Pete. There’s nothing to be nervous about.” Happy said from the front seat.

“I know, but I've never done something like this. And what if I'm like this kid in the middle of a ton of adults?” Peter asked.

“Tony is bringing another kid, about your age. He met him a good number of years ago. He helped him out when the mandarin was a thing. You remember? So at least there's someone your age.” Happy said.

“Is that who Mr.Stark wants me to meet?” Pete leaned forward to have a better conversation. Happy nodded.

“I’m pretty sure Tony wants to bring him on with the company, so he wants you two to be friendly at least. But you need to relax kid. Or else we’ll have another spider crash on our hands. What’s coming tomorrow?” Happy raised an eyebrow as Peter blushed and sunk back into his seat.

“Well, I’m seeing someone, and they live out of state.” He started. Happy’s other eyebrow jumped up to join its brother. “And they said they had a surprise for me that’s going to arrive tomorrow. It’s not unusual to send each other care package, but he made this one seem special. So I'm a bit excited.” Peter smiled at his hands.

“Does Tony know you’re seeing someone?” Happy asked. Peter shook his head.

“How do i even bring that up? I mean it’s not important to the work we do.” Peter blushed. Happy shook his head, making a mental note to berate Tony a little bit. “But neither of us can afford to come visit each other, and MJ was like just ask Mr.Stark. Like i could ask Mr.Stark to lend me his private jet.” Peter snorted in amusement. Happy shook his head again, knowing that Tony had bought Peter a private jet, but was a coward and hadn’t told him about it. But then, he’d also bought the kid a car. And an apartment building. And a very large amount of shares of SI.

“Maybe you’ll be surprised.” Happy said. “What’s his name?” Peter fiddled with his hands before answering.

“Harley Keener.” Happy choked back a laugh. “Happy are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm good, kid. Just breathed in wrong. So how’d you meet him?” Happy was internally screaming. There was no way he was skipping out of the party now. Just to see Tony’s face when these two kids laid eyes on each other.

“We met online actually. Tumblr.” Peter shrugged. Happy pulled into the parking garage and tried to contain his glee. Peter was surprised when Happy got out and followed him to the elevator. “Not skipping this one?”

“Nope. Won’t miss this one for anything.” Happy pushed the button that led them to the rooftop, Tony’s preferred party spot.

**

Harley tugged on his collar, hoping to relieve the pressure somewhat. Tony quickly smacked at his hand, not even bothering to interrupt his conversation. The woman, Natasha Romanov, looked amused. Harley had been rightly intimidated when he found out that ¼ of the party guests were avengers or heros of some sorts.

“Where’s my little spider?” She asked suddenly. Harley perked up at this. Was she talking about Spider-Man? Tony rolled his eyes.

“You’re too attached to the kid.” He said a little gruffly. Harley raised an eyebrow.

“Tony, was that, jealousy i hear?” Harley smirked. “I for one, would be thrilled if Natasha Romanov decided to be attached to me. I’d know for a fact i would never die.” Natasha threw back her head and laughed.

“Oh, I like this one. Maybe he can get Peter to open up a little more. I know he’s sassy under that layer of pure fluff.” She said. “And Tony. I’m not the one who bought him a $4000 tux.”

“Peter?” Harley asked. There was no way. Tony glared at Natasha.

“No, but at least I didn’t give him a fucking garrote to take to school. And yeah, Peter is the person i wanted you to meet. He should be here any minute. Happy went to get him.” Tony explained. Natasha raised a hand, motioning to someone behind Harley and Tony. Her brows furrowed in thought.

“Happys here too.” Tony whipped around in confusion. Happy always skips his roof parties. Peter was scanning the party, looking more than a little nervous. Harley turned to look with them and froze. Natasha smirked at him expression. Peter’s eyes found Tony and he almost deflated in relief. They were only a couple feet away at this point. His eyes drug to Natasha with a smile and finally, they landed on Harley. Peter froze mid step. Tony looked between the two of them, confusion on his face.

Harley’s curly hair was gelled so it hung in front of his forehead, and his suit was just as fitted as Peter’s. Harley shook himself from the shock first and grinned wide.

“Well sweetheart, i guess your surprise arrived a day early.” Harley smirked. Peter gasped. They both moved at the same time. Peter’s hands landed on Harley’s waist, while Harley gripped on of Peter’s hip. His other hand reached up and landed on Peter’s jaw. And then, they were kissing. It was like everything fell into place.

Peter’s heart was beating a mile a minute in his chest. His senses were dialed to 100, all focused on Harley.

Harley couldn’t believe it. He had waited so long to finally do this. When Tony had called and asked him to come stay for a week, he had jumped at the opportunity, already putting a plan into motion. Holding Peter in his arms was so natural and something he never wanted to stop doing. When they pulled away, they rested their foreheads together and just breathed.

“What the ever loving fuck!” Tony exclaimed. Harley shook his head.

“Youngest intern around huh?” Harley asked. Peter shook with laughter.

“Those NDAs are a bitch.” He shrugged. Peter slipped their hands together and pulled him back to Tony and Natasha. Tony was gaping at them, while Natasha was smirking like she knew. And in all honesty, she probably had. She stepped forward and kissed Peter on the cheek.

“Are you still bringing your weapons to school?” She asked. Peter rolled his eyes.

“Yes Nat.” He recited. “But, I remind you again. Pulling knives on students would get me expelled.” Harley stared at Peter, a soft smile on his face. He just wanted to drink in the sight of actually standing next to his boyfriend.

“I ask again. What the fuck?” Tony cried. Happy was taking pictures of the entire situation.

“Oh my god, old man. Do you need bifocals? We are obviously dating.” Harley snorted. Peter flushed at Harley’s tone, gaping at him. He shook his head and focused on Tony.

“We met online about a year ago. I can’t believe he was the one who saved you from the mandarin.” Peter beamed at Harley.

“Those NDAs are a bitch.” Harley parroted. Peter dissolved into giggles.

“But. But I was going to introduce you!” Tony said. Peter shrugged.

“Sorry Mr. Stark.” Peter shrugged.

“Mr. Stark.” Harley snickered. “You’re so fucking adorable.”A waiter passed and Peter grabbed two flutes of champagne.

“Look champagne. Let’s take this and go to my perch to talk about the fact that you were just going to show up at my house.” Peter latched onto Harley’s hand and started to lead him back through the party. He turned back to Tony and grinned. “Thanks for flying out my southern belle Mr.Stark.” Harley howled with laughter as he let Peter drag him away.

[frankwilder]

Kevin’s New Toy

Kevin was eight.

He was your average boy.

He grew up on a farm in southern New Jersey with his mother, and father.

Since he was an only child, life around the farm was boring. If he wasn't helping his father, you could find Kevin playing video games, or out in the forest at the end of the fields.

Kevin enjoyed going on imaginary adventures, however, there was one part of the forest he was forbidden to go near. That dreaded place was the stream near the nuclear power plant. Kevin himself didn't want to wind up glowing in the dark at night. So he listened to his mother, for once, about this one little thing.

It was an average Saturday morning on the farm. Kevin had found a treasure trove of slugs in an old tree stump near the forest. After finding his discovery, he ran back to the farm house to get the salt shaker. He was going to kill every single rotten one of these little critters.

Now I don't know about you, but if you mix salt, and slugs, you get a hell of a grimey, slimey mess. Kevin knew this, and he was aching to make the biggest mess of slug... whatever, all over the place!

As he leaned over the tree stump, he shook, and shook the salt all over the helpless little slugs. These creatures were Kevin’s sworn enemy! He would kill them all, and let god sort them out.

Each one fizzed like soda, and pop rocks mixed together. He loved the smell of dying slugs in the morning. He played out scenes of a war movie with his salt shaker uzi. "DIE YOU SCUM!!! DIE!!!"

It was obvious that Kevin had issues.

Boredom perhaps, or maybe the old PS3 wasn't good enough anymore. It had lost its luster since the PS4 release, and since his parents couldn't afford the PS4 right now, he would take it out on the little, pathetic slugs on the old tree stump.

"KEVIN!!! YOUR UNCLE IS HERE WITH THE DELIVERY, COME HELP YOUR FATHER!!" Kevin’s mother called across the field, surprisingly audible with the distance between them.

However, Kevins mother was a big old woman, well not really old, she was only 35. However, she was big none the less.

Kevin didn't know this, but Kevins father was what they call a feeder, someone who loves big ole fat women, and will feed them until they are the size that man desires. Kevins mother had reached about 350 pounds, and Kevins father was just not happy yet. He needed more lovin than 350 pounds, that’s for sure.

Kevin, however, like his father, was a skinny little athletic male, and he had no problems dashing across the field, leaving about five slugs alive on the tree stump.  He arrived at the driveway as the beat up red pickup pulled up the long dirt road, over the dreaded stream, and into the dirt driveway of Kevin’s rundown, need a new paint job, white, and fifty shades of grey house.

"HEY UNCLE BOB!!" Kevin yelled, as kids do yell a greeting.

"HEY SQUIRT!" Uncle bob yelled back, and embraced his nephew. Uncle Bob was about 25, and loved that beat up old pick up. It was his favorite thing to bring into town on a Friday night, and pick up a couple of drunks for a good ole time back at the hay loft of his own farm.  You know, playing corn hole, and such.

"I GOT YOU A PRESENT KEVIN, BUT YER NOT GETTIN IT TILL THIS HERE COW LICK IS ALL STACKED IN THA BARN, YA EAR?" Uncle Bob said, pointing towards the bed of the truck. The truck was filled with foot, by foot square cubes of huge salt. Ready to be licked by the lets lick salt cows that were being milked as of yet in the barn.

Kevin could hear the humming of the tank as the tubes sucked on the udders of the cows. Past the truck Kevin happened to notice his fathers brand new 2018 Japanese brand pick up truck. That could also be the reason Kevin didn't have a FUCKIN PS4! He wondered about that sometimes.

"Kevin, you ready to help?" Kevins father asked.

"SURE THING PAW!" Kevin said with his happy ‘lets work on the farm’ glee.

He started carrying the heavy blocks into the barn. This lasted for about a half an hour until the job was done. With the three of them it took quick work to move all the blocks. However, on to more important things. Kevin was getting something, maybe a PS4!!!

"CMERE BOY!" Kevins Uncle called over to him. Kevin, ran over to the drivers side of the old truck, where his uncle had already opened the door, and held an all American can of suds in his hands.

"ERE, OLD THIS WHILE I GET THE REAL PRESENT FOR YA!"

He handed Kevin a large coffee tin of something.

Kevin looked inside the coffee can, there were little metal balls, all the size of marbles. He shook it a little to hear them loudly exchange places with each other while hitting the side of the old coffee can that barely still read "FOLDGERS" on it.

"ERE IS THA REAL PRESENT KEVIN, YOU TAKE THIS, AND BY LORD JESUS BE CAREFUL!"

Kevins uncle handed him... a slingshot? Kevin didn't know if he should be happy, or pissed.

"DON'T BE BREAKIN ANY WINDOWS WIT IT, AND DON'E BE SHOOTIN YER FATHERS CATTLE NOW, YA EAR?" Kevins uncle was firm in his trailer slang of instructions. Kevin looked up at him realizing he was just given the most dangerous toy ever. He could cause massive destruction with this. Kevins father saw the look in his son's eyes.

"Kevin, please don't get any ideas okay son?" Kevin’s father begged.

"Yes Paw." Kevin said sadly.  What he really wanted to say was, 'WHY CANT I SHOOT EVERY STINKIN PERSON IN TOWN OUT OF ANGER BECAUSE YOU GOT A NEW TRUCK, AND I HAVE NO PS4???'

"That’s my boy, go get some old cans out of the recycle bin in the kitchen, you can set them up on the fence over there, and practice. Okay?"

Kevin smiled at his father, and headed into the house to get some old cans.

“EY THERE BOY, GIVE ME MAH BEER BEFORE YOU GO TAKIN OFF WITH IT!”  Kevin was so excited he forgot the beer, but you know old Bob didn’t.

Kevin sure was happy with his new toy. However, come to find out, this toy was actually older than Kevin himself! It was Kevin’s grandfathers slingshot he used as a boy when he would play war outside with the other kids in town. Then Kevin's uncle got it in the will, and now Kevin’s uncle was passin it down to him!

The night came soon, Kevin had shot the entire coffee can full of oversized BB's at cans all day. He had dented some so bad he needed to run inside, and get new ones a couple of times. After hours of practice he became a crack shot, and couldn't wait to go huntin in the forest with it! That would truly test his skill!

Kevins mother waddled in to kiss him good night after he took his bath.

Kevin laid in bed with his trusty slingshot on the nightstand next to his beat up old lamp. As his mother kissed him good night, and told him how precious he was, she shut the door behind her, he grabbed the slingshot off the nightstand, and held it close.

He looked out the window at the old nuclear power plant in the distance. He liked watching it glow at night, it made him feel at peace. Tonight it was glowing green though, something he had never seen it do before. It was purty that’s for sure.

Kevin set his new favorite toy back on the nightstand, and then rest his head back on the pillow continuing to watch the power plant. In the distance Kevin could hear his father, his mother, and uncle come upstairs, and into his parents bedroom. His parents, and his uncle had been drinking all night. The smell of beer on his mothers breath still lingered in the room, even with the window open.

Kevin could hear some laughter coming out of his parent bedroom. This was a usual occurrence on Saturday night. They got drunk, then Kevin went to bed. Then they went into his parents bedroom, and they started laughing. Sooner or later he would hear them yelling, and screaming, but it didn't sound like fighting. They would start talking weird talk. "YOU SURE DO GOT PRETTY MELONS!" Kevin would hear his uncle say.

Kevin thought that grown ups were strange, but put the three of them together Saturday night, all loaded up, eating fruit, and ahem, “cats”, and they sure made the weirdest noises he ever did hear. Kevin just concentrated on the glow of the nuclear power plant, and soon drifted off to sleep.

There was a pounding at the door downstairs. Kevin didn't hear it, but his father did. "Who the hell would come calling at four in the damn morning?" He said to himself as he made his way out from between his brother, and wife. He went downstairs to the door, and opened it to reveal a police officer, and his partner.

"What seems the be the problem officer?" Kevin’s father asked barely awake, and drool running down his chin.

"Sir we need you, and your family to evacuate. There is an emergency over at the power plant. They think it may have a meltdown at any moment. You need to gather your family, and leave now!" The police officers were very serious, and who wouldn't be? They didn't want their asses to be this close to the plant if it had a melt down either.

"Right away sir, thank you officer." Kevin’s father said, then he closed the door, and started running around like a mad man.

Kevin’s father woke up his sibling, and wife as they lay in bed together, butt naked. Kevin’s father screamed something incoherent about the power plant, and the jiggly jello of Kevin’s mother found its way into elephant panties, and a bathrobe. Kevin’s uncle was already out of the house, clothes or not, no one could tell.  That’s how fast he was gone.

Kevin woke up by himself, just as his father was coming in his door to get him. Kevin heard everything his father had said. He also didn't understand a word he said when he poked his head into Kevin’s door making sure he was up, and getting dressed. It was something like, "KEVIN, POWER PLANT, DIE, OH MY GOD, LOOK, BASKETS!!! AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!"

Kevin himself was calm.

He wasn't grasping the full terror of the night, and he looked out over at the power plant. He stood up, grabbed his slingshot, and looking out the window noticed something down in the fields. The cows that were out to pasture for the night, they were being attacked in the moonlight. Something was eating them! Something huge!!! Kevin couldn't understand what he was seeing. He could hear the cows mooing in pain one by one as the fields were filled with these moving, things. Kevin watched as one of these lump looking creatures threw itself over a cow, and devoured it!

Kevin, gripping his slingshot tightly, knew he had to save the farm from these creatures! Maybe then he would get his PS4!!!

After putting on some sneakers, jeans, boxers (Kevin told his mother he needed room to grown, and she agreed), a t-shirt, and some socks (not in that order mind you), he loaded his pockets full of shiny metal marbles.

His parents were running around in such a frantic mess, they never noticed Kevin head out the back door, and across the field toward the dying cows. One of these huge ten foot tall piles of brown noticed Kevin with its antenna eyes. It roared a blood thirsty roar as Kevin approached.

Kevin stopped in his tracks, he recognized these creatures! They were moving a little slowly, but fast enough to jump on cows, and devour them after creeping up for ten minutes. They were giant mutant slugs, about five of them.

Kevin almost shit his britches.

The slug that noticed Kevin started inching its way toward him, it was going to get its revenge for all of the slugs Kevin had killed, if it took all night! At this speed it just might too.

Kevin knew if it got close enough it would be able to jump on him, and eat him alive!

Kevin held the slingshot ahead of him, and loaded a metal ball into it. He pulled it back, and shot the target that was so big only Helen Keller would miss it. She had a 99% chance of hitting it too. When the ball hit, the slimy skin made a popping sound as slime, and ooze poured out of it. Somewhere Kevin could hear his father calling for him, but the roar coming out of the slug quickly drowned it out.

The metal ball only pissed it off, and now it was coming at him like a rocket! Well a rocked at slug speed that is. Then Kevin had an epiphany. He turned away from the threatening slug just fifteen feet away, and ran towards the tool shed.

Kevin grabbed a plastic bag that lay among a bevy of other plastic bags after throwing open the door to the tool shed. All of them read Wal*Mart, Family Dollar, or NJ Liquors.

He grabbed the biggest Wal*Mart bag he could find, and then a hammer. After that, he bolted out of the door. Kevin could still hear his father screaming desperately for him in the house. However, Kevin knew he could save the farm!

He broke into the barn like a snowplow hitting a freshly dead deer laying on the side of the road. He found the salt lick, and started beating away at it with the hammer. Nice sized chunks perfect for slingshot-ting fell away from the cow lick. He loaded them into the bag until it was full, then he headed back out into the field as Kevin’s father continued to yell for him inside the house.

He heard his mother yell to at one point, but he wasn't concerned about them. They could stay in the house where it was safe, he had a job to do.

He made it back out to the slugs, the one he shot had tried to follow him, and had made it about two feet!

These things were dangerous!

Kevin started firing at them. The salt chunks cut through the soft skin of the slimy bastards like a hot knife through butter! Kevin fired away at the slug coming after him! It reared back in pain, its body standing on its slug ass as it roared in agony! Kevin pelted it with more salt, and soon the creature lay dead, melting in an oozing bog of slug slime!

Kevin made light work of the others. They all attempted to kill him, to get revenge for their slug brothers Kevin had slaughtered before. However Kevin was the Slug Slayer!

In minutes he was victorious! He had them boiling over with guts, and slug slop out onto the fields. The battle field ran brown with remnents of Slug. Kevin only had one thing to say.

"DATS RIGHT MOTHA FUCKAS!"

Suddenly Kevins felt two arms grab him, and then he was being dragged across the field back towards the house. His father screamed, "I FOUND HIM! GET IN THE CAR!"

The family made their escape into the moonlit night, away from the power plant, and Kevin’s victorious battle.

In the following few days, it came to be that the whole meltdown episode was a false alarm. However, there was a leak of nuclear waste into the stream.

For days scientists, and men dressed in suits visited Kevin's farm.

They removed the bodies of the slugs, and tested the waters of the stream.

Then they were gone.

Kevin’s father was proud of his boy for saving the cattle. The farm was only missing ten out of thirty, and if it wasn't for Kevin’s quick thinking, they would have lost the whole herd.

Kevin’s father was so happy with him, he did eventually did buy Kevin a PS4!!!

THE END

[ohstardust]

Rose Coloured Boy - [3/11]

Summary: Sebastian Stan & Eleanor Egan spent the better part of six years being the European outcasts of Rockland Country Day School. Despite growing through their teens as best friends, college soon broke down their friendship until nothing remained. Ten years later, a turn of events in a city as large as New York City, finds them running in the same social circles once again with nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide. Pairing: Sebastian Stan x OFC Word Count: 2.2k Masterlist / Story Background / Playlist / AO3  A/N: I love building on friendships and showing how at ease some of these characters are with each other. Also, Sebastian does make an appearance in this part, this is the start of his regular appearance. Part 2 // Part 4

Damon loved to celebrate his birthday, had ever since he was still in nappies, and understood that it meant all the attention could be focused on him for at least a whole day. He certainly never made any secret of the fact to his friends. As he grew older, Damon pursued it as the perfect opportunity to round up his closest friends, and some not quite so close ones, and drink himself stupid until he woke up the following morning, unsure of who he was, and what age he’d become. He’d called it a tradition long before he’d turned thirty.

This year Eleanor had found her way onto his more extensive guest list for the celebration of his milestone birthday, he was desperate to introduce his neighbour to those few friends attending that had yet to meet her. And if he had Sebastian Stan in mind, then no one needed to know about that. “Aren’t you a bit old to be having a big piss up for your thirtieth, Damo?”  Despite the seventeen years she’d spent in America, her British inflections never left her, nor did her slang, all still very prominent, infused with a New York twang. Not like Sebastian, she’d noted during his roles she’d caught him in over the past couple of years, the way his accent had changed dramatically from the thirteen-year-old boy she’d first met. He’d been intent on changing his accent the moment he arrived in the States, eager to not stand out and appear like the rest of his peers. Eleanor hadn’t quite shared the same sentiment, but she supposed it was different for her, a British accent was a far cry from a Romanian one in a predominantly English-speaking country. “Excuse me little Miss ‘I’m still 29 for another ten months’.” She rolled her eyes at him and whipped him with the dishcloth as he rinsed off their dinner plates in the kitchen sink and left them to sit in the hot, soapy dishwater to soak. They were enjoying their Sunday night together, it being Eleanor’s only day off due to a gruelling 8 shows in 6-day long weeks. He promised her a home cooked meal to help her unwind, which in Damon’s terms means “I’ll order some take out and we can devour a bottle wine whilst you bitch about one of those girls in the chorus line who isn’t pulling her weight’. Not that she minded, not one bit. “I can’t believe I’m actually going to be friends with someone that old. It’s gross, I need to find some new friends.” Damon scoffed and rolled his eyes at his marginally younger friend, “You’ve still got that edge on Chace at least.” “Thank god, his youth will keep me sane,” she joked, her head tilted back, and the back of her right hand raised to her forehead. He shook his head and snickered at her, pouring them both a glass of red wine whilst throwing the take-out containers in the trash, “You’re ridiculous, why aren’t you ever this dramatic in public?” “I’m still trying to give off the illusion that I’m a fully functioning, and normal, adult. I save my theatrics for the stage and your apartment.” Damon snickered, and she flicked some of the dishwater at her friend before grabbing their glasses and wandering off to the living area, “El, you’re fooling no one.” “I didn’t say I was any good at it.” *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- Damon’s phone had been buzzing for the past half hour and Eleanor was just about ready to snatch his phone off the coffee table and throw it against the living room wall just to make the vibration stop. “Will you mute that fucking thing or so help me god I’m breaking it.” “Someone has her panties in a twist.” She was tired, oh so tired from a long working week and the apprehension was gnawing at her brain the more she thought about Damon’s birthday the following weekend. He’d contacted his friends a few weeks back with the details, most thanking him for the invite with a promise to be there, but Sebastian had yet to reply and she was trying not to dread the idea of him showing up, she at least needed the warning, if not a confirmation of his absence. There would be no escaping him in a room full of their close friends. “I’m trying to concentrate on this film, put a sock in it.” Before Eleanor had the chance to react as it the device began to ring, he grabbed it and dug his toes in her side to distract her. “Sebastian Stan, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Her stomach sank at the confirmation of the caller, uneasiness working its way through her bones and settling in her chest. Instead of listening to one side of the conversation between her current and former friends, she took the opportunity to jump up and grab them both another beer from the kitchen. The more she thought about it, the more ridiculous she felt for wanting to avoid him as much as she’d been casually trying to, the relief of hearing he wouldn’t make it to Lisa’s engagement, or Sasha’s birthday or Josh’s housewarming, seemed harsh and unnecessary. At twenty-nine years old, she realised she was too old for pettiness and trying to avoid uncomfortable situations. She was mostly to blame for all of this anyway, she knew she was and she wasn’t trying to shift all the blame in his direction no matter how hurt she had been for his willingness to let her go, so if the universe wanted to throw her a curveball by bringing him back into her life, then where was the harm in that? Where was the harm in apologising and moving on? Friends or not? She could do this, it’s not like she dwelled on this all that much, not on him, she just thought of him more often these days than she had in the paste years. Given the circumstances, it was perfectly normal. Eleanor undid the caps from the glass bottles, tossed them into the bin and curled up on the sofa beside her neighbour. “No worries man, thanks for letting me know and good luck. See you soon mate, bye.” She pretended to be focused back on the screen despite the paused imaged and raised her head as he tossed his phone beside him on the sofa, an eyebrow raised amongst a mouthful of beer. “He can’t make it, I guess this Marvel press tour is really kicking his ass.” Relief. Dread. Sadness. Disappointment. “I’m sorry.” He smiled over at her and locked her hand in his, rubbing over her thumb, his expression soft and understanding, “It’s not your fault, everyone else is coming. I suppose you’re pretty happy about it really, aren’t you?” She pondered for a moment, thinking of seeing him again, coming face to face with him amongst their friends, and this feeling of mild disappointment started to rise through her, “I thought I would be, but now I’m not sure.” I thought putting it off would make it easier in the long run but now I feel like I need to rip the band aid off and see him, make amends maybe. The conversation lulled following her light omission, they pressed play on the film and continued watching, trying to push all Sebastian thoughts from her mind. Sometimes I really wish Nina was still around, she’d know what to do. Perhaps we wouldn’t be in this situation at all if she hadn’t left. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- If there was one thing Eleanor had grown to love about parties and nights out with friends, it was being drunk enough to loosen up, to be able to move without reservation and to enjoy music the way she always wanted to be able to, night or day. Her arms were swaying, her hips swinging, and her laughter bubbling as she moved along with Lisa & Sasha, a few girls she wasn’t too familiar with also joining in to the sounds of Grace Jones. Driving down those city streets Waiting to get down Won't you get your big machine Somewhere in this town? Damon was embarrassingly drunk before 10pm and Eleanor supposed she’d better start downing some spirits if she wanted to match him, it’s what she deserved he kept reassuring her, spraying half of his drink all over her before he’d had chance to swallow it. She wasn’t all too pleased about that. The girls had been sharing stories, swapping gossip whilst dancing, laughing at their boyfriends who were too drunk to be dancing and gyrating the way they were. Yeah, Eleanor really ought to be far more drunk that she was. “Ellie bellie!” The birthday boy’s voice rang throughout the club, the upstairs of one of their favourite hangouts had been reserved for their large party and a bunch of the guest list turned their heads at the commotion of his obnoxious tone. He slung his arm around her neck and nestled in, smacking a loud kiss to her chin. “That’s gross. I thought I told you to fucking cut that out. It’s an ugly nickname.” The girls laughed beside the pair and moved with their partners who joined them for a slower song. One of Rhys’ arms wrapped around her from behind and kissed just below her ear, laughing at Damon clinging onto her other side. “You’re so boring, you old witch.” She smiled lovingly and patted his head, “No, love, that’s you.” As Chace came over to join them, a fresh drink in his hand, Damon perked up and raised his head with a devilish grin which usually spelled trouble right from the get-go, “The time has come for you to meet Taylor, he’s dying to meet you.” “Poor thing, he’ll be awfully disappointed.” “I tried telling him, but he’s still eager, go figure.” “Your friends are dumb.” “They’re your friends now too, remember?” “I’m sorry Rhys, but we need to steal this one away for a few minutes, you can have her back soon. God knows we don’t want her any longer than necessary.” Rhys fondly waved them off and raised his glass in acknowledgement, sitting himself beside Josh to engage in a conversation. With his flat palm pressed to the middle of Eleanor’s back, Chace guided her in the direction he’d spotted his older friend, Damon to her other side, hand gripping her elbow in anticipation and faux annoyance. “Fuck you too, Lovitz” “Don’t swear at the birthday boy.” “Stop provoking me then.” “Besides, you’re not really my type.” “For the final time, I can’t help the fact I don’t have a dick, I don’t love you enough to put myself through that.” “I hate you, leave my party at once.” “Just remember who’ll be tending to your hungover, sorry ass in the morning.” “You make a strong case, I guess you can stay with minimal distress.” Minimal distress would have been far kinder than what followed. It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room the moment her gaze fixed on him, and immediately she felt sick and cringed at the embarrassing cliche that had encompassed her existence and mind. She vowed she wouldn’t be this weak willed and hung up woman, she was far too old for such nonsense. But being in the same room as her former friend felt far more restricting than she had expected, far more so than the small sadness she felt when she clocked a Gossip Girl rerun on television or The Covenant being played on the horror channel in the early hours of the morning. The first thing she noticed was he looks good, he looks really good. The second was, you shouldn't be here, you said you wouldn't be here. Her body had remained rigid for a moment, stopping her friends from moving further. It was overwhelming, but she reminded herself that she could do this, she was just caught off guard, that’s all. “Are you okay?” Chace asked, voice just loud enough to be heard with his mouth close to her ear but calm enough to not startle her. She could feel his hand pressing a little closer to her to try and keep her calm. “Uh-huh.” "He just showed up to surprise Damon, we didn't know." Eleanor mustered up the fakest genuine looking smile she could and cleared her throat, “I’ve got this.” The trio took a few more steps to join Sebastian who was animatedly chatting with Taylor, catching up on what Eleanor assumed they’d both missed on over the past few months of each other lives. It felt a dozen kinds of weird, and bizarre watching an older Sebastian standing before her, different from the boy she once knew in as many ways as he was still the same. Eleanor was almost certain she was having an outer body experience, that was the only explanation. “Good evening gents!” Taylor & Sebastian’s cut themselves off mid conversation to face them and Taylor smiled instantly as he took a step forward with open arms, “you must be the famous -“ Sebastian’s face had paled, and he looked stunned, jaw slack and eyes wide, his whole body had frozen at the sight, “Eleanor.” Fuck. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- Rose Coloured Boy tags: @lovingfionn​, @lowdenglynnstyles, @outofworkactress

[anightflower]

A Compromise

Summary: The Widows, an organization of women that are trained to seduce, marry, then kill some of the most powerful and corrupt men of the century. Get in, get out, don’t be found. Things become more complicated for Y/N, the Nightingale when powerful mobster James Buchanan Barnes discovers the organization and hires them for his benefit. 

Characters: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Warnings: Swearing 

So I am attempting to write a series!!! What a time. I will be using 1920′s slang to make more authentic. If you some slang you don’t know you can find it here: 

http://mollsanddolls.blogspot.com/2007/10/1920s-slang-dictionary.html

Part One

The man sat at his mahogany desk, his face a mask of frustration as he glanced down at the crisp white paper before him.

A Compromise

May 19 1924

Base Territory Bid: Half of Broadway to Block 184.

BARNES,

IN REVERENCE TO YOUR VALUABLE TIME, I’LL JUST JUMP ON THIS ONE. YOU WANT MY BOYS TO LAY OFF YOUR SIDE OF TOWN? GIVE UP HALF OF BROADWAY TO 184. WE CAN SHAKE ON IT AND WASH OLD BLOOD OFF OUR HANDS PAL. START A NEW EMPIRE ON THE RIGHT FOOT.

REGARDS,

MELEGARI

The deal before him was shit and he knew it, hell it was barely a fucking deal at all. His glass of whiskey shook as he slammed his fist down. “Damnit!” he yelled, grabbing the crystal glass and hucking it at the wall. It shattered into a million pieces, glittering like stars as they fell to the ground.

The gleaming black rotary phone on his desk let out a shrill cry, snapping him out of his angry reverie. He growled as he ripped the phone off its cradle.. “What is it, Penny?”

“A spot of bright news boss! We found one,” his receptionist cherrily replied.

His heart sped up as a smug smile crawled across his face. “Then you know what to do, Doll.”

“I’ll ready the boys.”

“Atta’ girl, Pen. Blow em’ a kiss for me. And remind them that I don’t want a pretty hair on her head yanked or damaged; we need her on our side,” he reminded her.

“You got it, boss.” He could hear the smile in Penny’s voice as she hung up.

Good news indeed.

______________________________________________________________________________

She had always believed that human beings had an ancient instinct that tells them when they were being tracked or to followed.

Y/N? She knew she was being followed since Maywood Street. She could see her stalker now. He tried to look inconspicuous; his dirty blonde hair tucked away into a navy cap, that he pulled low to cover his eyes, but no, especially her, could be oblivious to that hideous pinstripe suit. She wanted to laugh. Hiding in plain sight my ass.

She rolled her eyes as she pulled the green collar of her peacoat up more. Nat was right; I should have just gone with black instead of green, She thought, irritated at herself. The thing was, she liked to be conspicuous out in a life of secrecy and lies.

She decided she would take a detour at the bakery and see if her stalker was truly after her or if it was all a “mysterious coincidence.” She snuck a peek at him from the corner of her eye as he pretended to look at some of the wares of the vendor next to the bakery. Resisting the urge to rip off her heel and huck it at him, she went inside.

“Ah Y/N, the usual?” Nellie called out to her. Nellie ran this bakery like a well-oiled machine, not to mention, she made some of the best strawberry danishes Y/N had ever tasted.

“You know me too well, Nel,” She beamed as she handed Nellie some cash. “I’ll take it to go today. Don’t forget-”

“The extra strawberry jam will be packed in there for you don’t you worry,” she replied, winking playfully.

“Nellie, you’re a doll,” Y/N praised, grabbing the bag from Nel’shand and making my her way back out into the street. Her eyes scanned the busy market street before her watching as people bustled two and fro like ants.

Ah, and there was Pinstripes, pretending to admire some tie samples outside of Calvin’s. And what do you know? The ones he was looking out stuck out just as much as that god awful suit.

Y/N kept scanning, looking for any exits to take to avoid him. Her key to leave was walking up the street: a large group of chatty girls lost in their shopping haze. As they passed in front of the bakery, Y/N hopped in with them. They hardly even noticed, all of them were too lost screaming about “Johnny’s new haircut” and “How was Marie’s date last night?” It was difficult for Y/N not to have her eyes roll into the back of her head. These girls were lost in a fucking fantasy life; she doubted they had to lift a finger for a thing.

She looked back at Pinstripes, whose head was swiveling around trying to find her. Y/N let out a joyful laugh, which quickly went away when his eyes met hers.

That’s when She took off, pushing the glimmer girls out of the way, ignoring their cries of “my shoes,” or “ouch my hair!” and sprinting down a random alley.

She heard Pinstripes yell something, most likely a profanity.  She glanced over her shoulder again only to see him rushing after her.

“Shit, shit, shit,” She hissed under her breath, weaving through different pathways, people, ANYTHING that could make him lose me. There was no way she could go back to the Nest and risk her following her there.

Y/N slowed a bit when she realized she didn’t hear heavy footsteps behind her. Actually, she heard nothing?

She stopped, looking around the alleyway realizing she had lost her way. She didn’t recognize a damn thing. SHIT! It was too quiet here, she had to figure out how to get back to the Nest-

Y/N yelped as she felt two huge arms wrap around her waist. Her instincts kicked in and she slammed her head against the man holding her.

“FUCK!” He growled. His arms released her and she whipped around to face him in a bristling fighting stance.

“What in hell do you think you’re doing? Are you a copper?” Y/N hissed.

“Quite the opposite.” Pinstripes laughed, his hand cradling his nose. He looked up at her and smiled, Y/N had to admit, it was an stunning smile, it complimented his blue eyes.

“Miss Vogue, I have someone who wants to meet you,” he said gruffly. “I’d rather not have to do this the hard way.

“Plenty of men want to meet me Pinstripes. Give me one good reason why I should meet your man?” Y/N smirked.

“Because nobody says no to James Buchanan Barnes.”

___________________________________________________________________________

Y/N  was forced into a lovely little black Rolls Royce. She was stiff as a board, her body’s fight or flight response on full alert. She eyed Steve, Pinstripes actual name, warily watching him through the rearview mirror. He had been a gentleman, however, he had opened and closed the door for Y/N, even going as far as to offering her champagne, which she quickly passed on. She needed a clear head to work my way through this situation.

How on earth did James Barnes find her? How on earth could she evade him?

The car ride had little chatter, the only noise being quiet jazz playing from the radio. A car with a radio - Barnes clearly liked to show off his money.  Y/N swallowed hard at the thought.

______________________________________________________________________________

Her heart nearly stopped when the car pulled up to the mansion before her. I am in some deep shit, she thought to herself.

Steve opened the door for her, gesturing toward the front door and guiding Y/N into the mansion and down a series of hallways.

They stopped in front of an ornately-decorated door. Steve knocked once.

A deep voice from within called out. “Come in.”

He was facing the fireplace. His crisp navy suit glowed in the warm light.

Y/N took a deep breath and composed herself, pasting a natural smirk on her face.

“Now, a dame loves a good chase every once and a while Mr. Barnes, but that was a bit of a whirlwind even for me. Care to tell me why I am here?” Y/N asked

Steve gestured to the seat in front of Barne’s desk. Y/N gave him a look, raising an eyebrow. Steve just nodded toward the chair, his face saying, I would sit if I were you. Y/N rolled her eyes and sat down gracefully.

“You know who I am?” the man asked, turning to Y/N with surprise, his deep blue eyes inquisitive.

“I doubt there isn’t a person in New York who doesn’t know who you are,” she answered with a bright grin. Y/N knew she had to keep the charade up if she wanted to get out of here.

“Well, then, since we know each other let’s just skip the pleasantries, Miss Y/L/N. I believe you are familiar with a group called the Widows?” he stated simply as he sat across from her..

Y/N daintily crossed one leg over the other, her face crinkled in innocent confusion. ‘I can’t say I am, Mr. Barnes.”

“Oh, don't play coy with me, Doll.” He threw a thick file onto the desk. “Or should I say, Nightingale?”

Y/N shoulders tensed slightly, but she kept her face a mask of innocence. “As I said, I have no idea what you are talking about.”  

He opened up the file. “You’ve been called by many names, had many hair styles and colors, yet those pretty eyes; always the same. And what a beautiful color they are in person.” He threw a few black and white photos on the desk. Y/N face staring back at her in each one. “Such pretty wedding dresses in each one. You have exquisite taste. What number husband are you on now?” He smiled like the cat that got the cream.

The soft look on Y/N’s face disappeared. “What are you looking for, Barnes? Is this a threat?”

He got up, grabbing two crystal glasses and a pewter filled with what Y/N could only assume is bourbon. “Drink?” he asked as he filled the two glasses. She glared at him coldly.

He sighed at her silence, placing the amber-filled glass before her. “It doesn’t have to be a threat. To put it simply, I have a job for you, Miss Y/L/N,” he proposed.

“Something tells me this isn’t optional. Then again from what I have heard, nothing is optional with you, Mr. Barnes,” Y/N quipped back, crossing her arms across her chest.

He leaned back in his chair and took a deep swig from his glass.. “I am glad you’ve done your research.”

“Anf what if I still said no? I am not afraid of you, Barnes; you’re not the only one with a few aces up your sleeve,” Y/N growled, starting to get up to leave.

“You may have a few jacks up your sleeve, but you have so much to lose, Nightingale,” Y/N paused at his words. His use of her code name digging into her.

“One misslip of the tongue, and you and your lovely lady widow friends can be caught in the act, which would be nothing short of a shame, considering how much I admire the wonderful work you have done.” Y/N turned back to him, her whole body tense with rage. Barnes’ shit-eating grin only grew wider.

He knew he had her on the ropes.

“What do you want, Barnes?” Y/N hissed through gritted teeth as she plopped herself back down into the overly-expensive brown leather chair with a huff.

He stood up placing both of his hands on the desk, each big rock on his finger reflecting the firelight. “For years, the Widows have been an invaluable organization going after unjust leaders, horrific mobsters, and anyone who does not meet their standards. You send one of your girls in, seduce, marry, then kill, conveniently covering it up with the husband never seeing it coming. You, Nightingale, are the most successful one of them all, with over 25 successful missions in five years. You’ve become a Widow prodigy, and I need you to do it again.”

He was met again with my silence.

He continued on. “His name is Charles ‘Charlie’ Melegari. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?”

A million images flashed before Y/N eyes: lavish parties, a dark smile, slicked back bronze hair.  “We have met a few times. He has a decent piece of New York, doesn’t he?” Y/N picked at her nails casually, looking calm even though the idea of going into his territory made her heart stop.

“I suppose you could say that. You see, he’s been giving me and my boys some problems lately, and I would love to have these issues-  well let’s just say- removed from my life. I have a business to run, and this man has been trying to fuck up my business and conquer my territory. I don’t have time for petty problems like those,”  he drawled.

“And I’m supposed to take care of your little problem?” Y/N scoffed.

“Exactly.”

“You act as if I’ll do this out of charity, what’s in it for me?” She leaned forward placing her head on her hand, batting her long lashes up at him.

He laughed, his blue eyes lighting up with mischief. “Besides protection for your girls? I can give you whatever you want doll: money, protection-”

“How about a piece of your empire?” His smile disappeared at my words. “My ladies and I could use a little bit of this. We live a life of luxury, but murder can get tiresome,” Y/N sighed.

He stroked his chin, deciding. “That can be discussed.”

“Fine.” Y/N said promptly.

She got up again and headed towards the door. She paused, her back to him. “While when you’ve decided, you apparently know where to find me, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky smirked at her sass. “Until our next meeting, Nightingale,” he replied. As an afterthought he added,  “Oh, and doll?”

Y/N turned her head towards him, eyebrows raised in question.

“Next time we meet, wear something that will make those pretty little eyes of yours pop,” he winked.

Y/N rolled her eyes at the comment and strutted out into the hallway, making sure to slam the door behind her.

A compromise then: Wear something pretty for him, then get what she wants.

[ghost-chance]

A New Lease on Life 2: Death Was Only the Beginning

A quick note regarding dialogue and odd words: Symbols at the end of a word or statement mark vocabulary terms or references defined at the end. If a word is followed by a dash or ellipses, it's translated or defined at the end of the chapter. I try to define most of the stuff that's really odd, heavily altered due to pronunciation, and local slang that non-local readers might not pick up. If you see a - or ~ at the end of a SENTENCE, it means the sentence or paragraph has been 'explained' in the same way; this will become necessary once Amber starts letting her oddities (and going through crisis-induced 'relapse' speech which is heavily brogued) but the relapses aren't really a frequent occurrence until the end of Part I.

This chapter dedicated to Volunteers. You put your life on hold to bring life to others, all without any thought of compensation. My old community is one of countless forever changed by volunteers, from search and rescue to donations to rebuilding. Thank you…our debt to you can never be repaid enough. Also dedicated to the real-life inspiration for 'Aaron,' whom I owe my very life to.

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNINGS! Including but not limited to Tornadoes, Severe weather, Town destroyed by tornadoes and severe weather, shock, graphic imagery, corpses, violent death, mentions of religion.

Suggested Listening: Linkin Park "Iridescent"          

2: Death Was Only the Beginning                  

             Willsdale, Missouri, Sunday May 8th, 2011          

The sound of violent retching woke Amber with a start; sometime during the night she'd apparently fallen off the sofa and now lay sprawled on the carpet in a pile. As sleepy disorientation faded into exhausted annoyance, she glanced off to her right. Sure enough, the bathroom door hung wide open spilling bright light out into the cramped hallway. "Good thing ya got short hair, Willis," she muttered, crawling back on the lumpy sofa. "I ain't gotta feel guilty 'bout not holdin' it back for ya."

"Fuck you, O'Brien—" her friend's guttural retort was interrupted by another round of heaving.

"I told ya that whisky'd kill ya," she reminded matter-of-factly as she swiped a long brown braid back over her shoulder. "Yer usual beer's water compared to Scotch whisky; smells like goat piss, too." Clutching her stiff back, she stumbled off the sofa and limped into the tiny kitchen seeking coffee. A note tacked to the fridge told her their host had already headed to work, and the bitter perfume of coffee filled the dog-scented air. As she dug through the cabinet for a mug a tiny, half-blind and completely neurotic black and tan Chihuahua danced at the back door, growling and barking at her. "Quiet, Nina—Uncle Aaron's hungover." Not surprisingly the dog simply snapped and growled again, then scattered when Amber came to open the back door.

"Let the damn thing out!" Aaron groaned into the toilet. "My head's KILLING ME!"

"Again, not my fault - I tried'a warn ya." Since Nina wouldn't willingly come within several yards of anyone but Ma Willis, Amber propped the back door open and returned to the coffee maker, grinning when the neurotic dog rocketed out the back door like the vet was on her heels. The door shut and her mug set up, she took a cup of water and a bottle of Mtn Dew in for Aaron. "Why on Earth your cousin thought gettin' you drunk was a GOOD idea, I'll never know."

"Oh, come'ere you sweet, beautiful bitch!" Aaron rasped; knowing he didn't mean her, Amber shoved the soda at him and left, laughing under her breath. Some things never changed, and his Mtn Dew addiction was among those things. So too, she contemplated with a crooked grin, was the way the three best friends got along by harassing one another.

The Terrible Trio started with Amber O'Brien, only daughter of a Scottish immigrant and completely unable to fit in with the locals even after she took on their twang. It quickly became a duo with the inclusion of Mercy Ross, a bristly beauty with an affinity for cows and a horrible homelife. Then in High School the two odd friends met Aaron Willis - a son of a local and the very definition of a Country Bumpkin. Years went by and the three friends only grew closer, grew more obnoxious toward one another, and grew into a fixture in town. Even after Aaron's family left Willsdale for nearby Glenville after Graduation, they still kept close contact until he moved into a double-wide trailer near Amber's home.

Supposedly Aaron Willis was completely disinterested in love, sex, and the like - he'd never shown any interest in anyone and spent years oblivious to Amber's puppy love crush on him - but deep in her heart Amber was sure he'd never be attracted to her even if he weren't apparently asexual. That ship, after all, had long sailed...she wasn't the sort to pine after someone who couldn't return her feelings and it became clear in time that they would have been horribly suited. Still, even if romance was an option, Amber was sure she wasn't Aaron's 'type' - she was plain, barely 5'3, and morbidly overweight. Her brown hair started going grey in her teen years—supposedly a hereditary thing—and she couldn't walk a straight line if she was paid to. Love had never been in the cards for her, and ever since she was hit by a van during college, neither had meaningful work.

'God almighty, quitcher whinin' O'Brine!'- she reminded herself fiercely. 'I'm alive, I'm not dyin' in an RCF, I've gotta roof over my head, food in my cabinets, an' two kickarse friends. Things could be so much worse than monthly booty calls, sexual frustration, an' an end-table ass.' Mid-rant Aaron collapsed at the rickety wooden table, burying his head in his arms.

"Please tell me Ma left donuts," he mumbled.

"Nope, just pizza," she grinned, poking his springy blond curls. "Your favorite…but it's got pickles on it."

"Sacrilege!" he spat rushing to the fridge. "She didn't—she wouldn't!" A moment later he slanted a suspicious glare at her over the rims of his glasses, his off-kilter blue eyes narrowed. "Quit pickin' on the hungover person. Pickles on pizza…you need yer head checked."

"We a'ready know that, Sugar," she grinned, snagging an éclair from the box. "Thanks for the YouTube footage, by the way: 'Drunkard milks bull,' sure to be a hit."

"I WHAT?!" he squawked. "Oh, HELL NAW! You post that an' I'll piss in your garden! On your roses!" The two friends bickered good-naturedly for the rest of the morning, never realizing that their world had changed forever.

Hours later Amber's beat up Red Civic pulled up to an empty driveway…a driveway with no standing building behind it.

Once Aaron's hangover had abated they'd returned to Willsdale, blasting Quiet Riot and Black Sabbath the whole way. As they crept over the city limits, though, the now silent car deafened the occupants stunned by their surroundings. It wasn't quite sinking in…how could so much have happened in one weekend?

The once-bustling small town was nearly gone, and what was left in its place could only be described as a war zone. Vacant cars lay crumpled along the road between downed utility poles. Fallen, splintered trees littered the landscape. There was debris everywhere—hanging in trees, pinned under fallen structures, blowing along the ground—Amber never even noticed tears streaming from her eyes or murmured reassurances from Aaron. Every structure they passed was demolished, every landmark they knew was erased. The power station, the cemetery, the house always surrounded by suicidal free-range guinea hens...all that remained was rubble-strewn dirt and asphalt. She knew what she'd find there, and she hated to see it, but before she knew it, she'd pulled into her own driveway.

Her house, the tiny shotgun shack she'd lived in for years, was reduced to a pile of timber and siding, her struggling garden buried under a ton of shattered brick and shingle.

"Amber," Aaron called repeatedly as she wandered from her car to what was once the front step. "Amber, wait!" She shook her head deliriously as she dug frantically through the debris pile over the porch; in her shock-addled mind, all she could think of was getting inside and curling up on the sagging plaid couch. It never even registered that not only was the sofa probably ruined, the house itself was no longer standing. Cursing, Aaron scrambled over fallen timber and fractured supports to tear Amber away from the ruins.

"No!" she cried frantically, fighting to get free. "It's my home! I've gotta—"

"AMBER!" he shouted, framing her face in callused hands. "Amber, it's gone! You're gonna hurt yourself if you keep this up!" Memories flashed before her eyes, blocking out the familiar blue eyes staring into her own. Without warning, dry, chapped lips met hers fiercely as strong arms held her like she was about to be ripped out of them. When he finally let go, she buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing brokenly as they slid to the sodden ground. As if mocking them, the clouds broke open anew; thunder rolled, lightning flashed, and torrents of rain mingled with hopeless tears.

             Sunday, May 15th, 2011          

Over a week later, Amber and Aaron were still sheltered at City Hall with countless other refugees. Neither had a home to go to, now, and Aaron wasn't able to get word out to his mother with the phone lines and cell towers down. Though he didn't understand, Amber wouldn't contact her family - her mother and father, or even the cherished and gruff grandparent she affectionately called "Gran'Da," insisting it was pointless. With every tearful story and gut-wrenching news report on the radio, the truth became clearer. The night after they drove up to visit his mother an EF 5 tornado spawned outside of town. By the time it fizzled out, it had destroyed much of the town, many of the outlying farms and homes, and left hundreds dead or homeless. Amber's home was gone, Aaron's home was gone, and no one could get ahold of Mercy Ross; Aaron worried what this might mean, and heaved a weary sigh.

Search and rescue teams descended on the ruined town with a vengeance early on, working their way through it with military precision. Everywhere, codes had been spray painted on crumbled structures and vehicles. How many survivors, how many dead, what hazards were present…just overnight, Amber's life had become an endless parade of neon x's, scribbled codes, and body bags, interspersed with canned soup and crying children. Every hour of every day it rained more and more, and Amber sat in a quiet corner staring blankly at the wall.

Aaron Willis watched her forlornly as he helped hand out bottled water. She'd been afraid of storms longer than he'd known her and he was used to witnessing anxiety attacks over the smallest rainstorm. Now, though, now she seemed almost empty and never spoke. Something was dreadfully wrong with his friend, but he had no idea what he could do. It was heart-rending to see her so dull and lifeless. Worst of all, he'd kissed her—finally given in to his years-old hidden crush and kissed her—but for whatever reason, she didn't realize the significance. She probably thought he was just trying to comfort her, he reasoned darkly, absent-mindedly crushing an empty bottle into nothing. Frustrated and helpless, he threw himself into making himself useful in any way he could and making call after call that never went through. When the rain finally let up that afternoon, unbeknownst to the rest, Amber left her corner and slipped away.

At first, she just wandered aimlessly, hopelessly lost in the town she'd spent her whole life in but following some lure only she saw. Everything was changed, everything was gone, but she felt nothing at all. Surely she should be feeling something, she thought blandly as she walked past a bloodstained, crumpled truck wrapped around a tree. Surely the horrors around her and the circling vultures should be jarring at the very least.

A battered wooden sign came into view as she crested the hill. Though most of the letters had been stripped off by rain and grit and the building behind was half-toppled, she knew without a doubt where she was. After all, she spent the last several years scrubbing the school from top to bottom every weeknight; she'd know it with her eyes closed. She drifted through the shattered glass doors in a daze, scanning the trashed hallways without notice. Her feet led her to the library and a familiar shelf she'd spent her teen years reading top to bottom. Debris was brushed aside halfheartedly until she found her target.

Dark of the Moon. It was a poetry volume long out of print and rarely found outside of libraries, and while she was a student, the book spent more time in her backpack than on its shelf. Such a shame for such a wondrous book to be lost forever, she thought hollowly as she gently leafed through now fragile pages.

Movement out the window caught her eye; thunder rolled, clouds menaced and a jagged grey tear loomed overhead. Off to the southwest was the monster she'd feared most of her life, and it was heading her way. The numb woman watched the horizon in disinterest, uncaring of the strange disembodied ticking sound or the sudden feeling of calm that washed over her. Rain pelted the cracked glass windows and wind howled, kicking up clouds of debris from the already battered landscape. A deafening, grinding roar like a fork in a disposal shattered the air as the tornado drew nearer. Amber stared it down never flinching as her ears ached from the pressure.

Perhaps...perhaps this was her only choice - the only way she'd ever find peace. If she was in her right mind, she would be horrified by the thought...but she wasn't in her right mind at all. That foul monster stole her home, stole her town, stole her very life, but there was one thing it would never steal…

Heedless of the broken glass underfoot she dropped to her scarred, aching knees. Head bowed, she prayed—prayed for the safety of her friends and family, prayed for the souls of those touched by the tornadoes' destruction, and prayed for peace in the afterlife. The window exploded inward and shattered glass rained over her head but her only regret was that she'd never found a love worth living for.

A bedraggled team searched the school for survivors. "HEY!" shouted the tall black man as he clambered toward the woman kneeling before the shattered windows. He checked Amber's neck but recoiled at the bloody wound at her forehead; the body was long grown stiff and she had no pulse. "Why on earth did you come here?" he wondered aloud. "Why didn't you seek shelter?"

A block of cloudy green glass lay nearby, the corner stained with blood - a glass brick. Her cold corpse told a vile story of a woman in shock who was taken by surprise and died from head injury, and showed plainly what happened when humans pitted themselves against nature. At least, the man considered with a grimace, it was likely quick - she died on her knees, possibly praying for her life, but at least she didn't suffer.

His brown-haired companion noticed the book cradled in her arms and wrenched it free, wincing at the way the body fell to the floor from the motion. The book's title wasn't ringing any bells. "It's a shame," the first-responder remarked as they eased the stiff body into a black bag and zipped it closed. Someone would come by later on and cart her to the morgue with the storms' other casualties for identification. "This book clearly meant something to her, though - she thought it was worth dying for. It'd be a pity to leave it behind when the building will just wind up razed." Moments later the team had moved on, a neon orange code on the tiles of the front entryway Amber's only memorial.

             A vast, dark place somewhere beyond Time

            'Wha…where am I?' Amber thought distractedly as she scanned her surroundings. The last thing she remembered was a book…what book? Oh, right; Dark of the Moon, that poetry anthology that she'd coveted for years. Why did she covet it, though? Was it not hers? No matter how she tried, the details of her life were slipping away like grains of sand through her fingers.  

   She existed in a vast expanse of bleak, black nothingness, her only company the incessant ticking of a legion of unseen clocks. How did she get here? She couldn't recall—everything was a blur! Confused, she wracked her brain for answers that continued to evade her. In a deeply engrained stress habit, she reached to pull one of her twin braids over her shoulder, intent on tugging at the loose tuft at the end.  

   Nothing happened. Though she knew she'd moved and her brain had sent the proper signals, she had no braids—no hands—no body! 'What's happened to me?!' she thought frantically. 'Did I…no, it can't be…I didn't…die…?' She trailed off, her uncertainty solidifying into begrudging realization. 'I'm dead. I'm farkin' dead. Well, this sucks. But if I'm dead, why'm I so alone? This place is dead even for the Afterlife. Unless…' Not for the first time, she wondered if her beliefs hadn't been rightly placed. If there was no God, no Heaven or Hell, then where was she? Of course, she reasoned, if that was true, why was she even conscious that she existed? Without a body of her own, how could she exist?

Unbidden, familiar words filled her memory in between ticks and tocks.

This is the vestibule to Hell, where those who would make no choices in life are condemned. Neither warm nor cold, believers nor blasphemers—you see them in the hills. They chase a banner they will never catch.

'Of course,' she realized bitterly. 'Inferno—Niven and Pournelle's take on Dante's Divine Comedy. I read that danged book to tatters, an' it never e'en occurred to me. I must be in the vestibule in a lil' bronze jar. Great….at least my fat arse finally fits in a 'one size fits all' container.'* But if I'm in a jar, that means I can get out!' Focusing with all her strength, she repeated the phrase that had been Allen Carpenter's saving grace. 'Fer the love'a God, get me out'a here!'  

   If she hadn't been stuck in a little bronze jar in Hell, she'd have heard crickets; instead, she only heard the maddening ticking sounds. Amber winced, going over the phrase again in case she'd misspoken; maybe her would-be rescuer had passed her by over rudeness? 'Um…please?'  

   Her tiny empty world was sucked into oblivion as she hoped against hope that she wouldn't wake up at the feet of Benito Mussolini.** 

Translations

- "Quitcher whinin' O'Brine!" - 'Quit your whining, O'Brien!'

Up next: "One Life Ends, Another Begins"

                     Notes:        

*Amber calling herself fat is a self-defense mechanism—an unhealthy one. It's always much easier to call yourself fat and insult your own behind, for example, than to hear someone say the same thing about you. Remember, real beauty isn't dependent on your waist, your hips, your butt, or any other impermanent BS like that.

**Waking up at the feet of Benito Mussolini. This is a reference to Niven and Pournelle's book Inferno. When Carpenter found himself out of his little brass bottle, he woke up at Benito's feet staring at his own navel, convinced it was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. You really should read the book regardless of that scene—it's a hoot!

[synthsizedproductions]

Descending Into Power Chapter Two: Sold

Freda hadn’t exaggerated that my supplies would only suffice until I reached the nearest settlement. Even with smart rationing, I had eaten my last scraps of food as I approached the city. I had been more frugal with my kabettle milk than was healthy, but it was better than risking having none in an emergency. A lesson I didn’t need to learn more than once.

I counted my shells, frowning at how small they were. They weren’t worthless, but I would have to haggle to get a fair price. I slang my bag over my shoulder again and tried to ignore the nervous buzzing as I approached the edge of the buildings. The people were taller than the largest Scorpid I had ever seen. I was accustomed to being the shortest person in the camps I had been in, but I was only half as tall as most of the citizens I passed. I pulled my hood lower to avoid the stares they were giving me.

Everything was larger than my previous camps, the unfamiliar surroundings causing me a low level of anxiety. I lost sight of the desert as soon as I entered the city proper, and I had a sense of being boxed in by the stone structures around me. I took steadying breaths and focused on finding some kind of market. My panic would not help me find food faster.

I wandered in fruitless circles for what seemed like forever, so I decided I needed help. I didn’t have any idea if their markets would resemble the ones I had encountered before. Their stone and metal settlement was overwhelming in its differences to the earth and leather camps I had grown up in.

“Hey, you lost?” I froze when the unfamiliar voice got my attention, turning to find a red-haired individual waving me over to where he stood with his lanky blond friend. I tugged my hood lower, hoping to hide the thin black lines at the outside edges of my eyes, which would reveal I was part of the desert community.

“Yeah, kinda. I’m trying to find a market or shop where I can trade some goods for food. Would you be able to help me?” I stood several feet away from them and took a kabettle shell from my bag. He extended his hand, but I was just outside of his arm’s reach.

He leaned against the wall behind him with a disgruntled scowl. “Might have a hard time finding anyone that will trade you anything for whatever that is. You could convince a generous merchant to hand over three of four copper for the lot, but I doubt it’ll even get you enough for stale crackers. You got any coin on you?” He took a small, round piece of rust colored metal out of his belt pouch and placed it on.

I frowned as I put the shell back in my bag, trying to examine the metal he held while not moving closer. The blond man raised his hand up and glowing silver circles surrounded the iris of both eyes, the coin lifting from the red-haired man’s palm. He floated the copper in my direction and I plucked it from the air, finding it rather cold. I turned it over, examining the odd symbol at the center of both sides.

I tossed the coin in their direction and the blond man caught it with ease, the glow fading from his aqua eyes. “What does the symbol mean?”

The two men exchanged a confused glance, glowing white lines running down the red-headed man’s eyes to his chin. I glanced from one of them to the other, an odd static filling the air. I took a step back, my heart pounding harder by the moment.

My movement grabbed their attention, and the red-haired man smiled, the white lines fading. “Sorry, Jorog and I needed to have a small chat about which vendor can most helpful for your situation. The symbol is how much the coin is worth. You weren’t letting  encountered coins before.”

I furrowed my brows. “Was that Magic?”

Jorog raised an eyebrow. “Of course it was. These are low level Powers that they should teach you in primary training. You appear old enough to be in your secondary lessons. Which Mentor did you train under?”

I held my bag against me as a barrier between me and the men and attempted to think of a convincing lie. “I didn’t get to go to primary training. My guardians were not very responsible, and I imagine I’ve missed many lessons.”

A solid excuse.

The red-headed man crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “That’s a pretty outlandish situation you grew up in. Where are your guardians now, kid?”

Not solid enough, it seems.

Jorog hit his friend’s shoulder and gave him a warning glare. “Quit, Harnin, you’re scaring them. If their guardians were as bad and they’re implying, why by the Deities would they want to tell us more about those people?” Jorog turned to me with an apologetic smile. “Excuse his questions. How about we just bring you to the merchant? Maybe they can even find you a Mentor to get you a proper education.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of their behavior, but I nodded despite my reservations. “That sounds good to me. Thank you, Jorog.”

Jorog led me through the rather quiet city street where we passed shop owners as they opened for the day, Harnin following at a distance. Most of the merchants ignored us, but there were others that watched with frowns, which made me doubt how good a decision it was to go with these men.

I tugged on my hood. “Why do they keep staring at us?”

Jorog shrugged with an easy-going smile. “Who knows? Some people are nosey and will use any excuse to pass around rumors. Don’t worry about them, kid. They hold little value to Descendants like myself.”

I glanced up at him just enough so my hood wouldn’t fall. “Descendants?”

Jorog laughed and shook his head. “You grew up more sheltered than I thought. Magic users. Rather, those who get past primary training. We’re touched by the Deities and blessed with more potent Powers than the everyday person.”

“I hear there are people in the desert who don’t have any Magic.” I hadn’t noticed Harnin had closed the distance between us. “They’re useless freaks who can’t even light a candle. It’s a wonder how they’ve survived out there for so many generations. Their numbers are dwindling. Faer’vool the Destroyer will visit their communities soon.”

I clenched my fists as Harnin insulted my community. Sure, the other Scorpids had never treated me well, but they had more worth than this man was expressing. “I hear they help people get through the deserts. It’s dangerous out there. They don’t sound useless to me.” I hadn’t meant to have rage in my tone, but my control was slipping.

Careful.

Harnin scoffed and moved to walk next to me, leaving me surrounded by the men. “How would they even know which direction to bring people if they cannot feel the energy of their destination?” He looked me up and down. “You’re awful defensive of desert scum.”

I the heat of my Magic spread through my body and I took a deep breath to quell it. “I just think you’re making a lot of assumptions.”

Jorog glared at Harnin and reached over my head to hit his friend in the shoulder again. “Quit it.” He smiled down at me. “Ignore him. You won’t have to deal with him for much longer.”

It relieved me when we reached our destination, but the shabby-looking shop caused my anxiety to spike. I took a step back. “Are you sure this is where you meant to bring me?”

Harnin grabbed my arm with bruising pressure, grinning down at me. “We’re sure.” I struggled to free myself as he dragged me into the shop and Jorog locked the door behind him.

I glared at the blond man. “You tricked me.”

Jorog’s friendly smile morphed into a wicked smirk. “Not at all. We told you we would bring you to a shop who would take your goods.” He ripped my bag away and tossed it to a handsome individual with pointed ears who sported a self-satisfied grin.

The shopkeeper threw my bag into a closet with little regard for my things. “Thank you, gentlemen. Let’s get a good look at what we have under that cloak and then I can evaluate their worth.”

Harnin growled at the shorter individual, a faint white glow emitting from his eyes. “You questioning our judgment on our wares, Dowrin?”

The lithe individual waved their hand in dismissal as they moved behind the counter. “Of course not, my young friend. You know I don’t buy without examining the product. What kind of business man would I be if I underpaid for quality goods.”

Jorog hit his friend’s shoulder again, baring his teeth at Harnin and exposing his pointed canines. He leaned close to the red-haired man’s ear and spoke in hushed tones. “Don’t be an ass. They’re paying for our starting gear, quit messing with a good thing.” The friends locked eyes, and the air filled with the uncomfortable static.

“Fine.” Harnin pushed me into Jorog with a grunt. “You fucking do the negotiations.” He stormed over to the door and leaned on it with crossed arms.

Jorog rolled his eyes and dragged me to the counter, giving Dowrin a charming grin. “I apologize. He’s going through a Spark growth and you know how grumpy that can make a person.”

Dowrin leaned on the counter and played with a lock of loose burgundy hair. “Nothing to worry about, Jorry. We have amiable enough relations that I can forgive this minor offense.” He placed a weathered, long-fingered hand on Jorog’s arm with a flirtatious gaze.

Jorog gave Dowrin a casual smile and laughed. “You have my gratitude. I am in your debt, shopkeeper.”

“Are you two done flirting?” Harnin was unamused by their behavior. “Can we get this sale over with?”

Jorog shot a sharp glare over his shoulder. “You’re so impatient.” He reached for the clasp of my cloak and I slapped him away, my eyes glowing in the shadows of my hood. He snapped his fingers and a trail of green smoke rose out of his palm, which wrapped around my wrists and ankles. In seconds, it solidified into vines covered in thorns which pressed against my skin.

He waved his finger at me. “If you had just behaved, I wouldn’t need to restrain you. Let’s learn what you’re trying to hide under this hood.” Jorog unclasped my cloak and pushed it off of me. He took a half step back as he recognized the markings on my face. “I see why you were so defensive of the desert dwellers.”

I bared my teeth at Jorog and struggled against the vines, masking my fear with anger. “You people call my community scum, but which of us abducts foreigners  off the street and sells them?”

Jorog chuckled and patted the top of my head. “Aw, look, the little Scorpid thinks they’re people.” He turned his gaze to Dowrin again. “Looks like we hit the jackpot with this one. It’s not every day you find a wild desert dweller just wandering the streets. What’s your appraisal of the goods?”

Dowrin stared at me with fascination before walking to the front of their shop. “Bring them here. I need a better look. Many people find it surprising by how common fabricated Scorpids have become. I know you boys wouldn’t try to cheat me, but I must be sure.” Jorog carried me toward the shopkeeper.

I dug my teeth into his shoulder and he dropped me with a pained yell, gripping his injury and glaring at me. I surprised us both when I spit his blood on the floor. Jorog looked at his hand and growled when he found it stained red. “You’re lucky I want to make a profit off you.” He reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a cloth with symbols I didn’t recognize on it. He placed it over my mouth, the fabric clinging to my face after he stepped away from me. “There. Now you’ll be quiet.”

Jorog placed me in the middle of the room and Dowrin circled me, mumbling in hushed tones to himself and moving closer with every circuit. He came to a halt in front of me and grabbed my chin, tracing the Life lines on my face. “Interesting patterns. Much more developed than I expected for someone their age. That’ll bump the price up for both of us.” He rubbed his fingers together and smiled. “Good news, boys. You somehow found yourself a genuine Scorpid. What were you looking to get for the kid?”

Jorog rubbed the already healing bite mark and looked me over as I might if I found a wild herd of kabettles. My heart pounded as I realized I wasn’t a person to these individuals. I squeezed my eyes closed and attempted to call on my Magic to burn away the vines, but my fear made it hard to concentrate. I gave up and watched Jorog and Dowrin haggle over my worth in their little pieces of metal. The pounding in my ears drowned out their words, so I used that time to memorize their faces. I remembered everyone who had wronged me, and these people were going to the top of my mental vengeance list.

They shook hands and Dowrin went to the counter again to count out the agreed upon price. My whole being was numb and nothing felt real. I tried to tell myself I was having a nightmare as the room spun around me. I let out a muffled yelp when the shopkeeper picked me up and threw me over his shoulder.

“A pleasure doing business with you boys. Let me know if you find any more wandering Scorpids. There’s good coin in buying and selling from the Shardless. It’s a kindness, to be honest. A life without Magic? No thank you, I would rather be dead.” They escorted the men to the door and locked it again when Jorog and Harnin had passed their threshold. “Just you and I now, eh?” They laughed as they carried me down a narrow set of stairs. I attempted to protest, but the cloth still clung to my face. “No use trying to speak. That thing stays firm for an entire cycle, so I’ll make sure you get fed as soon as it falls off.”

They brought me to a small, dark room and placed me on a stiff cot in the corner. “This isn’t very comfortable, but get used to this kind of environment. Rest well, child. Can’t have my top shelf product looking tired.” He slammed the door closed and locked it behind him.

I stared at the darkened ceiling and tears ran down the sides of my face as I contemplated my situation. I had been in dangerous situations, but I had never been so helpless.

What have you gotten yourself into this time?

[shuga-heart]

Christmas Cookies

Yo, happy holidays everyone! This is for @reaper76rp​, I was your secret santa this year for @r76secretsanta​! It’s short and sweet, I hope you enjoy! Summary: After working hard on Christmas Eve, Gabe and Jack finally get to come back to HQ, and find a heartwarming surprise waiting to wrap them up, and finally let them relax.

‘Twas the night before Christmas, 2 am to be precise. Nothing was stirring, no cat and no mice. That was, however, only true in theory, as out in the streets two soldiers were delivering some special Christmas fury. Stars twinkled high in the sky while the remains of Omnics flew absolutely awry. ‘Twas the night before Christmas, now 2:45 if I may, and these fantastic super soldiers could finally put their weapons perfectly at bay. It was time for a break, for a Vacation one might say, and it seems both men had every intention of staying warm and sleeping straight through Christmas day… WHAM! The door slammed open at unfathomable speeds, nearly breaking right off the already rickedy hinges, the doorknob meeting a well painted wall and promptly denting it. Two tall men walked into the room, groaning underneath of their breath, their bones chilled right down to the core. It was nearly 3 in the fucking morning, and only now were they able to get back to headquarters and take a damn break. Neither of them wanted to work on Christmas eve, in fact both Jack and Gabe only really wanted to laze around, but fate obviously had differing ideas. However, Reyes and Morrison were treated to something quaint and delightful, that was after Gabriel kicked the damn door in with his snow-covered boot. The entire living quarters was decorated with a spread of Christmas decorations, and it was obvious that the whole team had pitched in. From the precisely placed lights, and red and green banners obviously done by both Captain Amari and Lieutenant Wilhelm- to the pretty damn messy tree job courtesy of Genji and McCree, there was nothing in the entire world that looked more welcoming, or warmer to a pair of cold soldiers. In fact, the most enticing factor had to be the brightly burning fireplace. Flames of bright oranges and yellow bellowed from atop small logs of wood, giving the room the perfect glow it needed, the cherry atop the cake. Morrison’s eyebrows furrowed together slightly as he looked over at all the hard work the team had put into decorating the room, and so late at night, with a small, quaint and tired smile spreading slowly across his lips. “They really didn’t have to decorate the place..” Jack started, feeling his back crack as he stretched, walking into the warmly lit living room. Reyes made his way into the kitchen as Jack placed his gear down beside the well-worn couch. “These guys put too much work into it. I mean, when’s the last time you even saw this fireplace working?” Jack called back to Gabe, chuckling under his breath as he walked over to the fire, placing his hands in front of the open yet controlled flames. “Never actually seen that damn thing work.” Gabe started, leaning against the counter as he emptied a water bottle between his lips, allowing it to crinkle quietly. “It looked so old I’m surprised it didn’t crumble on impact, kinda like you.” Jack heard Gabe snort audibly from the kitchen, and he turned around on his heels faster than a dog being called for dinner. His feet, still heavy with snow, then made their way over to the occupied kitchen, keeping his eyes on the sly, tired man leaning back against the counter. “You know, I’m not that old, Reyes.” Jack started, rolling his eyes although it was impossible to stop the smile that was making its way across his lips. “We’re like the same age, anyways. You totally just called yourself old.” Morrison walked in front of Gabe, leaning over him as he wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pulling the colder man close. “Yeah, I might have, but my plan to get your flat ass over here worked, didn’t it?” Gabe’s eyebrow raised and he smirked, even if it was just a little, placing a kiss against the pale man’s cheek as scruff sent little shivers down his spine. Jack let out a soft huff of exasperation. “You didn’t have to try and insult me to get me over here, Gabriel. You know damn well I would’ve walked my ‘flat ass’ over here if you asked.” He shook his head as he spoke, smiling just the slightest bit wider, running his hands down the Gabriel’s back before allowing their lips to oh-so softly meet. The two spent the next few minutes in silence, enjoying the embrace that was quickly growing warm. They shared small kisses and light hearted jokes, and it was only halted by Gabriel having caught something out of the corner of his eye. As his hands ran down Morrison’s sides, he pulled away with a soft hold on, walking over to the other kitchen counter. Jack watched with slightly bated breath, keeping a single eyebrows raised curiously. “..Jack, they made us fucking cookies. The cowboy baked us cookies.” Gabriel sounded honest to god surprised at what he’d found, and Jack couldn’t really believe it, until he walked his ass over and saw it himself. “Well I’ll be damned…” Jack said absentmindedly, looking down, “Your son really did make a plate of cookies.” Placed promptly on the counter had been a freshly washed red and white plate that was decorated with what looked and smelled like freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. A cup of milk that was of questionable quality sat beside it, as well as a handwritten note that seemed to be of McCree’s penmanship,made obvious by the messy handwriting and the western slang. It read, quite simply: “To the real bringers’a joy this year. Stay warm, Commanders, whenever y’manage t’get home.” Gabe stared at the note for a moment, taking it in- him and the “cowboy” had a weird, rocky relationship. It wasn’t bad, per say, it was actually quite good and it was more of a father and son sort of connection than close friends. Any time McCree would get his ass busted, Gabe had to rush out of whatever he was doing and bail that bitch out before he was taken to prison, or to court for the third time that week. McCree was always a pain in the ass, and despite just how much Gabe may try to hide his fondness for the kid, Jack knew, and Gabe did somewhere deep down in him, that Reyes loved Jesse like his own son. Gabe scoffed under his breath, lightly placing the note down on the countertop and grabbing the entire plate of cookies. “Don’t say jack shit about the note, Morrison.” Gabe started, stuffing a cookie between his lips as he walked over to the couch, sitting down with a slightly grumpy aura to him. Jack followed, shaking his head with a small smile. “I didn’t plan on it,” he started, slowly taking his spot next to Reyes. They’d been sitting right across from the fire, and the warmth was easy to feel. The room had a soft, relaxing sense of warmth to it, even if Gabe had a little stick up his ass. “..although that was really sweet of hi-” Gabriel cut Jack off by shoving a cookie between his yapping lips, causing the blonde's eyes to widen a bit in surprise. He looked down at the cookie hanging out of his mouth, and figured it’d be better to keep his trap shut, and just eat the damn sweet. He slowly pushed the rest of the chocolate chip sweet into his mouth, relaxing against the couch, slowly draping an arm around Gabe who leaned into it in due time, even if he was a bit stubborn and a bit reluctant. The two spent the rest of the night like that, at peace with one another. After about 10 minutes or so, Gabriel had draped a blanket around the pair, and leaned promptly on Jack’s shoulder. He relaxed against the warmth of his beloved fellow Commander, and Jack made sure to keep him closer than his pride. The night went on, and as morning began to creep up on the horizons through closed curtains, Gabe and Jack ended up drifting off into what would be the best sleep of their entire damn lives. They did, indeed, sleep right into Christmas, but it didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that the both of them were warm, the both of them were safe and sound, and most importantly, the both of them would be able to spend the rest of their lives together, for as long as fate allows.

[get-a-new-lease-on-life]

A New Lease on Life - 2: Death Was Only the Beginning

A quick note regarding dialogue and odd words: Symbols at the end of a word or statement mark vocabulary terms or references defined at the end. If a word is followed by a dash or ellipses, it’s translated or defined at the end of the chapter. I try to define most of the stuff that’s really odd, heavily altered due to pronunciation, and local slang that non-local readers might not pick up. If you see a - or ~ at the end of a SENTENCE, it means the sentence or paragraph has been ‘explained’ in the same way; this will become necessary once Amber starts letting her oddities (and going through crisis-induced 'relapse’ speech which is heavily brogued) but the relapses aren’t really a frequent occurrence until the end of Part I.

This chapter dedicated to Volunteers. You put your life on hold to bring life to others, all without any thought of compensation. My old community is one of countless forever changed by volunteers, from search and rescue to donations to rebuilding. Thank you…our debt to you can never be repaid enough. Also dedicated to the real-life inspiration for 'Aaron,’ whom I owe my very life to.

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNINGS! Including but not limited to Tornadoes, Severe weather, Town destroyed by tornadoes and severe weather, shock, graphic imagery, corpses, violent death, mentions of religion.

Suggested Listening: Linkin Park “Iridescent”   

2: Death Was Only the Beginning                

Willsdale, Missouri, Sunday May 8th, 2011        

The sound of violent retching woke Amber with a start; sometime during the night she’d apparently fallen off the sofa and now lay sprawled on the carpet in a pile. As sleepy disorientation faded into exhausted annoyance, she glanced off to her right. Sure enough, the bathroom door hung wide open spilling bright light out into the cramped hallway. “Good thing ya got short hair, Willis,” she muttered, crawling back on the lumpy sofa. “I ain’t gotta feel guilty 'bout not holdin’ it back for ya.”

“Fuck you, O'Brien—” her friend’s guttural retort was interrupted by another round of heaving.

“I told ya that whisky’d kill ya,” she reminded matter-of-factly as she swiped a long brown braid back over her shoulder. “Yer usual beer’s water compared to Scotch whisky; smells like goat piss, too.” Clutching her stiff back, she stumbled off the sofa and limped into the tiny kitchen seeking coffee. A note tacked to the fridge told her their host had already headed to work, and the bitter perfume of coffee filled the dog-scented air. As she dug through the cabinet for a mug a tiny, half-blind and completely neurotic black and tan Chihuahua danced at the back door, growling and barking at her. “Quiet, Nina—Uncle Aaron’s hungover.” Not surprisingly the dog simply snapped and growled again, then scattered when Amber came to open the back door.

“Let the damn thing out!” Aaron groaned into the toilet. “My head’s KILLING ME!”

“Again, not my fault - I tried'a warn ya.” Since Nina wouldn’t willingly come within several yards of anyone but Ma Willis, Amber propped the back door open and returned to the coffee maker, grinning when the neurotic dog rocketed out the back door like the vet was on her heels. The door shut and her mug set up, she took a cup of water and a bottle of Mtn Dew in for Aaron. “Why on Earth your cousin thought gettin’ you drunk was a GOOD idea, I’ll never know.”

“Oh, come'ere you sweet, beautiful bitch!” Aaron rasped; knowing he didn’t mean her, Amber shoved the soda at him and left, laughing under her breath. Some things never changed, and his Mtn Dew addiction was among those things. So too, she contemplated with a crooked grin, was the way the three best friends got along by harassing one another.

The Terrible Trio started with Amber O'Brien, only daughter of a Scottish immigrant and completely unable to fit in with the locals even after she took on their twang. It quickly became a duo with the inclusion of Mercy Ross, a bristly beauty with an affinity for cows and a horrible homelife. Then in High School the two odd friends met Aaron Willis - a son of a local and the very definition of a Country Bumpkin. Years went by and the three friends only grew closer, grew more obnoxious toward one another, and grew into a fixture in town. Even after Aaron’s family left Willsdale for nearby Glenville after Graduation, they still kept close contact until he moved into a double-wide trailer near Amber’s home.

Supposedly Aaron Willis was completely disinterested in love, sex, and the like - he’d never shown any interest in anyone and spent years oblivious to Amber’s puppy love crush on him - but deep in her heart Amber was sure he’d never be attracted to her even if he weren’t apparently asexual. That ship, after all, had long sailed…she wasn’t the sort to pine after someone who couldn’t return her feelings and it became clear in time that they would have been horribly suited. Still, even if romance was an option, Amber was sure she wasn’t Aaron’s 'type’ - she was plain, barely 5'3, and morbidly overweight. Her brown hair started going grey in her teen years—supposedly a hereditary thing—and she couldn’t walk a straight line if she was paid to. Love had never been in the cards for her, and ever since she was hit by a van during college, neither had meaningful work.

'God almighty, quitcher whinin’ O'Brine!’- she reminded herself fiercely. 'I’m alive, I’m not dyin’ in an RCF, I’ve gotta roof over my head, food in my cabinets, an’ two kickarse friends. Things could be so much worse than monthly booty calls, sexual frustration, an’ an end-table ass.’ Mid-rant Aaron collapsed at the rickety wooden table, burying his head in his arms.

“Please tell me Ma left donuts,” he mumbled.

“Nope, just pizza,” she grinned, poking his springy blond curls. “Your favorite…but it’s got pickles on it.”

“Sacrilege!” he spat rushing to the fridge. “She didn’t—she wouldn’t!” A moment later he slanted a suspicious glare at her over the rims of his glasses, his off-kilter blue eyes narrowed. “Quit pickin’ on the hungover person. Pickles on pizza…you need yer head checked.”

“We a'ready know that, Sugar,” she grinned, snagging an éclair from the box. “Thanks for the YouTube footage, by the way: 'Drunkard milks bull,’ sure to be a hit.”

“I WHAT?!” he squawked. “Oh, HELL NAW! You post that an’ I’ll piss in your garden! On your roses!” The two friends bickered good-naturedly for the rest of the morning, never realizing that their world had changed forever.

Hours later Amber’s beat up Red Civic pulled up to an empty driveway…a driveway with no standing building behind it.

Once Aaron’s hangover had abated they’d returned to Willsdale, blasting Quiet Riot and Black Sabbath the whole way. As they crept over the city limits, though, the now silent car deafened the occupants stunned by their surroundings. It wasn’t quite sinking in…how could so much have happened in one weekend?

The once-bustling small town was nearly gone, and what was left in its place could only be described as a war zone. Vacant cars lay crumpled along the road between downed utility poles. Fallen, splintered trees littered the landscape. There was debris everywhere—hanging in trees, pinned under fallen structures, blowing along the ground—Amber never even noticed tears streaming from her eyes or murmured reassurances from Aaron. Every structure they passed was demolished, every landmark they knew was erased. The power station, the cemetery, the house always surrounded by suicidal free-range guinea hens…all that remained was rubble-strewn dirt and asphalt. She knew what she’d find there, and she hated to see it, but before she knew it, she’d pulled into her own driveway.

Her house, the tiny shotgun shack she’d lived in for years, was reduced to a pile of timber and siding, her struggling garden buried under a ton of shattered brick and shingle.

“Amber,” Aaron called repeatedly as she wandered from her car to what was once the front step. “Amber, wait!” She shook her head deliriously as she dug frantically through the debris pile over the porch; in her shock-addled mind, all she could think of was getting inside and curling up on the sagging plaid couch. It never even registered that not only was the sofa probably ruined, the house itself was no longer standing. Cursing, Aaron scrambled over fallen timber and fractured supports to tear Amber away from the ruins.

“No!” she cried frantically, fighting to get free. “It’s my home! I’ve gotta—”

“AMBER!” he shouted, framing her face in callused hands. “Amber, it’s gone! You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep this up!” Memories flashed before her eyes, blocking out the familiar blue eyes staring into her own. Without warning, dry, chapped lips met hers fiercely as strong arms held her like she was about to be ripped out of them. When he finally let go, she buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing brokenly as they slid to the sodden ground. As if mocking them, the clouds broke open anew; thunder rolled, lightning flashed, and torrents of rain mingled with hopeless tears.

            Sunday, May 15th, 2011          

Over a week later, Amber and Aaron were still sheltered at City Hall with countless other refugees. Neither had a home to go to, now, and Aaron wasn’t able to get word out to his mother with the phone lines and cell towers down. Though he didn’t understand, Amber wouldn’t contact her family - her mother and father, or even the cherished and gruff grandparent she affectionately called “Gran'Da,” insisting it was pointless. With every tearful story and gut-wrenching news report on the radio, the truth became clearer. The night after they drove up to visit his mother an EF 5 tornado spawned outside of town. By the time it fizzled out, it had destroyed much of the town, many of the outlying farms and homes, and left hundreds dead or homeless. Amber’s home was gone, Aaron’s home was gone, and no one could get ahold of Mercy Ross; Aaron worried what this might mean, and heaved a weary sigh.

Search and rescue teams descended on the ruined town with a vengeance early on, working their way through it with military precision. Everywhere, codes had been spray painted on crumbled structures and vehicles. How many survivors, how many dead, what hazards were present…just overnight, Amber’s life had become an endless parade of neon x’s, scribbled codes, and body bags, interspersed with canned soup and crying children. Every hour of every day it rained more and more, and Amber sat in a quiet corner staring blankly at the wall.

Aaron Willis watched her forlornly as he helped hand out bottled water. She’d been afraid of storms longer than he’d known her and he was used to witnessing anxiety attacks over the smallest rainstorm. Now, though, now she seemed almost empty and never spoke. Something was dreadfully wrong with his friend, but he had no idea what he could do. It was heart-rending to see her so dull and lifeless. Worst of all, he’d kissed her—finally given in to his years-old hidden crush and kissed her—but for whatever reason, she didn’t realize the significance. She probably thought he was just trying to comfort her, he reasoned darkly, absent-mindedly crushing an empty bottle into nothing. Frustrated and helpless, he threw himself into making himself useful in any way he could and making call after call that never went through. When the rain finally let up that afternoon, unbeknownst to the rest, Amber left her corner and slipped away.

At first, she just wandered aimlessly, hopelessly lost in the town she’d spent her whole life in but following some lure only she saw. Everything was changed, everything was gone, but she felt nothing at all. Surely she should be feeling something, she thought blandly as she walked past a bloodstained, crumpled truck wrapped around a tree. Surely the horrors around her and the circling vultures should be jarring at the very least.

A battered wooden sign came into view as she crested the hill. Though most of the letters had been stripped off by rain and grit and the building behind was half-toppled, she knew without a doubt where she was. After all, she spent the last several years scrubbing the school from top to bottom every weeknight; she’d know it with her eyes closed. She drifted through the shattered glass doors in a daze, scanning the trashed hallways without notice. Her feet led her to the library and a familiar shelf she’d spent her teen years reading top to bottom. Debris was brushed aside halfheartedly until she found her target.

Dark of the Moon. It was a poetry volume long out of print and rarely found outside of libraries, and while she was a student, the book spent more time in her backpack than on its shelf. Such a shame for such a wondrous book to be lost forever, she thought hollowly as she gently leafed through now fragile pages.

Movement out the window caught her eye; thunder rolled, clouds menaced and a jagged grey tear loomed overhead. Off to the southwest was the monster she’d feared most of her life, and it was heading her way. The numb woman watched the horizon in disinterest, uncaring of the strange disembodied ticking sound or the sudden feeling of calm that washed over her. Rain pelted the cracked glass windows and wind howled, kicking up clouds of debris from the already battered landscape. A deafening, grinding roar like a fork in a disposal shattered the air as the tornado drew nearer. Amber stared it down never flinching as her ears ached from the pressure.

Perhaps…perhaps this was her only choice - the only way she’d ever find peace. If she was in her right mind, she would be horrified by the thought…but she wasn’t in her right mind at all. That foul monster stole her home, stole her town, stole her very life, but there was one thing it would never steal…

Heedless of the broken glass underfoot she dropped to her scarred, aching knees. Head bowed, she prayed—prayed for the safety of her friends and family, prayed for the souls of those touched by the tornadoes’ destruction, and prayed for peace in the afterlife. The window exploded inward and shattered glass rained over her head but her only regret was that she’d never found a love worth living for.

A bedraggled team searched the school for survivors. “HEY!” shouted the tall black man as he clambered toward the woman kneeling before the shattered windows. He checked Amber’s neck but recoiled at the bloody wound at her forehead; the body was long grown stiff and she had no pulse. “Why on earth did you come here?” he wondered aloud. “Why didn’t you seek shelter?”

A block of cloudy green glass lay nearby, the corner stained with blood - a glass brick. Her cold corpse told a vile story of a woman in shock who was taken by surprise and died from head injury, and showed plainly what happened when humans pitted themselves against nature. At least, the man considered with a grimace, it was likely quick - she died on her knees, possibly praying for her life, but at least she didn’t suffer.

His brown-haired companion noticed the book cradled in her arms and wrenched it free, wincing at the way the body fell to the floor from the motion. The book’s title wasn’t ringing any bells. “It’s a shame,” the first-responder remarked as they eased the stiff body into a black bag and zipped it closed. Someone would come by later on and cart her to the morgue with the storms’ other casualties for identification. “This book clearly meant something to her, though - she thought it was worth dying for. It’d be a pity to leave it behind when the building will just wind up razed.” Moments later the team had moved on, a neon orange code on the tiles of the front entryway Amber’s only memorial.

            A vast, dark place somewhere beyond Time

           'Wha…where am I?’ Amber thought distractedly as she scanned her surroundings. The last thing she remembered was a book…what book? Oh, right; Dark of the Moon, that poetry anthology that she’d coveted for years. Why did she covet it, though? Was it not hers? No matter how she tried, the details of her life were slipping away like grains of sand through her fingers.  

   She existed in a vast expanse of bleak, black nothingness, her only company the incessant ticking of a legion of unseen clocks. How did she get here? She couldn’t recall—everything was a blur! Confused, she wracked her brain for answers that continued to evade her. In a deeply engrained stress habit, she reached to pull one of her twin braids over her shoulder, intent on tugging at the loose tuft at the end.  

   Nothing happened. Though she knew she’d moved and her brain had sent the proper signals, she had no braids—no hands—no body! 'What’s happened to me?!’ she thought frantically. 'Did I…no, it can’t be…I didn't…die…?’ She trailed off, her uncertainty solidifying into begrudging realization. 'I’m dead. I’m farkin’ dead. Well, this sucks. But if I’m dead, why’m I so alone? This place is dead even for the Afterlife. Unless…’ Not for the first time, she wondered if her beliefs hadn’t been rightly placed. If there was no God, no Heaven or Hell, then where was she? Of course, she reasoned, if that was true, why was she even conscious that she existed? Without a body of her own, how could she exist?

Unbidden, familiar words filled her memory in between ticks and tocks.

This is the vestibule to Hell, where those who would make no choices in life are condemned. Neither warm nor cold, believers nor blasphemers—you see them in the hills. They chase a banner they will never catch.

'Of course,’ she realized bitterly. ’Inferno—Niven and Pournelle’s take on Dante’s Divine Comedy. I read that danged book to tatters, an’ it never e'en occurred to me. I must be in the vestibule in a lil’ bronze jar. Great….at least my fat arse finally fits in a 'one size fits all’ container.’* But if I’m in a jar, that means I can get out!’ Focusing with all her strength, she repeated the phrase that had been Allen Carpenter’s saving grace. 'Fer the love'a God, get me out'a here!’  

   If she hadn’t been stuck in a little bronze jar in Hell, she’d have heard crickets; instead, she only heard the maddening ticking sounds. Amber winced, going over the phrase again in case she’d misspoken; maybe her would-be rescuer had passed her by over rudeness? 'Um…please?’  

   Her tiny empty world was sucked into oblivion as she hoped against hope that she wouldn’t wake up at the feet of Benito Mussolini.**

Translations

- “Quitcher whinin’ O'Brine!” - 'Quit your whining, O'Brien!’

Notes:        

*Amber calling herself fat is a self-defense mechanism—an unhealthy one. It’s always much easier to call yourself fat and insult your own behind, for example, than to hear someone say the same thing about you. Remember, real beauty isn’t dependent on your waist, your hips, your butt, or any other impermanent BS like that.

**Waking up at the feet of Benito Mussolini. This is a reference to Niven and Pournelle’s book Inferno. When Carpenter found himself out of his little brass bottle, he woke up at Benito’s feet staring at his own navel, convinced it was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. You really should read the book regardless of that scene—it’s a hoot!

Up next: One Life Ends, Another Begins

Chapter List