#store multicolor amber

[yesteryearsnows]

Hyperfixation chronicles: oh my god this shit is literally addicting

Went to the rose bowl and found some good ass shit!!! I’m still so pumped over what I found. I would have bought more but my dumb ass ran out of cash early. Maybe that’s a good thing! Bc most of the stuff I got I can’t bear to let go

1) a genuine Austrian brooch with beautiful garnet red stones and all the gold tone in perfect shape. I don’t think it was worn much at all/kept in box most of the time. I’m shook at how nice it is. And an absolute steal at 35. Austria jewelry is known for the use of the highest quality rhinestones in general. The setting itself is so beautiful ugh I love it.

2) this cherry pin I thought was lucite at first. But I’ve found out it’s in fact a mid century piece from the ussr with gold fill and real Baltic Amber. I was going to walk from this but the vendor let me have it for 10. Also love it 5ever

3) a cute hand painted metal cat brooch! It’s head is on a rivet and can swivel all directions

4) a 1950s Sarah Coventry piece. It’s signed Sarah alone, which was a signature used only from 1951 to 1953 apparently. Beautiful delicate fibrils dotted with purple stones. My friend walked away and i snapped it up. I did read the 60s sets are the most valuable

5) a pretty pin with five stars on green enamel. Also on a swivel. Monkey brain love moving parts.

6) ugh, these earrings make me think of Chanel pieces with the pearl and multicolored stones. In great shape without any pearl damage, surprising on such big pearls. Also keeping this 5ever

7) a Monet bee! Now my friend and I are matching insects

8) a giant green yubaba adjustable ring with white rhinestones around it.

9) got these green glass earrings at Palm Springs for 8. Took them home and saw they’re stamped sterling? I died. They’ll match my green art deco pin perfectly

Moral of story: lizard brain likes shiny things. And rose bowl has a better grade of costume and selection then so many vintage stores! Pasadena is where it’s at

[jajaaradesignsposts]

The Latest Trends in Amber Brown Under-Tone Earrings

With their striking multicolor and geometric shape earinig, these lightweight undertone earrings will add a pop of color to every outfit. Purchase earrings in the USA at the cheapest price from Ja Jaara Store.

for more info: jajaara

[juliebrost]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Vintage Salton Hotray Used MCM Electric Bun Warmer 70s.

[bomberqueen17]

transferring home movies

a lil camera store dayjob moment

this order is all super8 reels from like the 60s

most of them are christmas mornings

this one features a like, nine-month-old enthusiastically gumming things, very cute. wall-to-wall carpet. tree with multicolored lights. assorted relatives, chaos.

into the frame comes his brother, maybe 4 or 5

the brother is wearing footsie pajamas

and he is carrying his new toy, of which he is clearly very proud. it is a life-size, fairly realistic Winchester carbine, lever-action.

an adult woman (likely his mother) reaches over and takes it from him.

with a hand that is also holding a clear glass of amber liquid, likely a beer, she nonchalantly operates the lever for him, then hands it back, he resumes carrying it around the room, pointing it at several people and, somehow, himself, despite it being as large as he is.

the rest of the three-minute silent movie periodically features this child and this gun meandering through the crowd. no one gives him a second look.

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

Geralt and the reader Chillin in a treehouse in the woods with fairy lights and blankets and pillows at night??

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Geralt x Reader Word Count: 1,061 Rating: G Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak​ @whatevermonkey​ @mycat-is-mylove @mynamesoundslikesherlock​ @kemmastan​ @magic-multicolored-miracle​ @writingstudent​ @mlleecrivaine​ @coffee-and-stories​ @amirahiddleston​ @ultracolorfulnerdcollection​ @astouract​ @your-not-invisible-to-me @daydreamer-in-training @morelikebyesexual a/n: Floomf

He’d been skeptical at first when you began sneaking around the attic. Little things began to disappear, like his flashlights and stepladder and all of the spare linens and pillows he stored in the hall cupboard. When he asked you about them, you’d simply told him he’d have to wait. Geralt was not known for his patience but he’d learned to practice many virtues since you’d entered his life. Gentleness unlike he had felt safe to show in so long. He’d trusted you in a way he didn’t trust anyone save for his fellow wolves. Patience was hardest but you always made it worth it. Still he was a little skeptical when you stood on tiptoe to tie a blindfold around his eyes (unnecessary, he would never peek if you told him not to, but you’d insisted it was a vital part of the moment). You’d guided him outside, he could smell the change from the lemons you’d juiced to make lemonade earlier to the fresh cut grass. The sprinklers rattled away nearby, a little spray making you squeak but you were both grateful for it on a summer’s day that was still hot though the sun was setting low in the sky.

You’d told him to stop and he waited, leaning down before you could ask so you could take off the blindfold. His eyes didn’t leave yours, amber and warm like the rays slowly ebbing away into night. He was waiting for you to say he could look and you paused to take in his face and the smell of leather that seemed to stay with him whether or not he was wearing any.

“Tada!” you announced excitedly, jumping back and gesturing up. Geralt’s eyes followed and he found a treehouse. A treehouse he’d shown you, actually, when you first came over. He’d talked about rebuilding it sometime for Ciri but when she’d gone to spend the summer with Yennefer he’d lost the heart to do it. You’d noticed the way he smiled a bit less with his daughter gone, and the way he would look for her some nights when you were resting on the couch with him. Usually the two of you would lay your heads against his chest and he would wrap his arms around the pair of you, content that you were safe and his. He knew Ciri was safe, Yennefer may have been a whirlwind of a romantic partner but she was a steadfast and responsible parent. Still it was different, you felt the loss too, and you’d decided there was nothing to be done but take the task on yourself.

It wasn’t ornate as you knew he’d hoped to make it. There were fairy lights strewn around the entrance and the ladder up to it was now far sturdier with a railing as well just in case, though the gods knew Ciri and Geralt were both far too limber to need it. You chewed your bottom lip anxiously as he stared up at it, unmoving.

“I know you had plans,” you said, anxious at the silence, “And you can totally undo it or add on. I just thought that it might be nice.”

Geralt finally looked back down at you and you saw a slow smile spread over his face, relief washing over you as he pulled you close and pressed a kiss against your lips.

“It’s perfect,” he murmured. You beamed and he saw your eyes light up with excitement as you reached down for his hand.

“Come on!” you urged, pulling him over to the steps that you quickly clamored up to provide a tour. He crossed the distance in a few long climbing strides and you gestured for him to enter.

All of the blankets and sheets and pillows were there. The flashlights, used to help you work on it in the night when you thought he slept and he secretly waited for you to return while debating going to find you, sat in a little collected heap by the entrance. You stretched out on your back and patted the spot next to you. Geralt chuckled and obeyed, reclining next to you, wolf’s head medallion sliding into the thick silver hair he’d left down today. You were proudest of the little skylight, protected from the elements by a clear tarp but still giving you access to the beautiful, lush canopy that was illuminated by the fairy lights that ran across the ceiling of the treehouse.

“What do you think?” you asked, wrapping an around around him and resting your head on a sturdy shoulder.

“It’s perfect,” he echoed, unable to find other words for the moment or the woman in his arms. You fished your phone out of your pocket, the final touch to what you hoped would be the first truly good evening in a long while. His eyes stayed on the ceiling until you began to play the video and then he looked down eagerly. Ciri’s face, freckled from the sun, blond hair in uneven braids and big green eyes alight, looked out at them.

“Hi dad and Y/N! Mom and I went to the beach today and it was just as good as Uncle Jaskier said it would be! Tomorrow we’re going to the museum and it sounds lame but Mom and Uncle Jask promise it’s gonna be cool. I’ll let you know how it goes and I’m also going to get you guys some souvenirs! Mom says I can’t buy a sword at the museum, which, like, what’s the POINT even? I dunno, anyway I’ve got to go cuz we’re making s’mores but Y/N suggested I send you little updates at the end of the day and I thought that was cool cuz I really miss you guys. If you do anything awesome let me know so I know you’re not TOO sad without me. Ok, I gotta go, I love you!”

Geralt’s fingers traced the frozen still of his daughter’s face and then shifted his face to press a kiss against your forehead. You passed the rest of the night talking about the things you should try doing while she was gone, adventures you could regale her with and bad habits she was undoubtedly going to pick up from her Uncle, your laughter filling the forest until the pair of you drifted off to sleep.  

[hyrulecast]

BODY.

long legs. short legs. average legs. slender thighs. thick thighs. muscular thighs. skinny arms. soft arms. toned arms. muscular arms. toned stomach. flat stomach. flabby stomach. soft stomach. six pack. beer belly. lean frame. slender frame. muscular frame. voluptuous frame. petite frame. lanky frame. short nails. long nails. manicured nails. dirty nails. flat butt. round butt. toned butt. bubble butt. thick butt. small waist. average waist. thick waist. narrow hips. average hips. wide hips. big feet. average feet. small feet. soft feet. slender feet. calloused feet. calloused hands. soft hands. big hands. average hands. small hands. long fingers. short fingers. average fingers. broad shoulders. underweight. average weight. overweight.

HEIGHT.

shorter than 140 cm. 141 cm-150 cm. 151 cm to 160 cm. 161 cm to 170 cm. 171 cm to 180 cm. 181 cm to 190 cm. 191 cm to 2 m. taller than 2 m.

SKIN.

pale. fair. rosy. olive. dark. tanned. blotchy. smooth. acne. dry. greasy. freckled. scarred. combination.

EYES.

small. large (THEY GOT THOSE GIANT TOON EYES.). average. grey. brown. black. blue. red. green. gold. amber. hazel. doe-eyed. almond. close-set. wide-set. deep-set. squinty. monolid. heavy eyelids. upturned. downturned.

HAIR.

thin. thick. in-between. fine. normal. greasy. dry. soft. shiny. scruffy. frizzy. curly. wild. unruly. straight. smooth. wavy. floppy. cropped. pixie-cut. short. shoulder length. back length. waist length. floor length. buzz cut. undercut. bald. jaw length. mohawk. braids. vermilion. white. platinum blonde. strawberry blonde. golden blonde. dirty blonde. ombre. light brown. mouse brown. chestnut brown. golden brown. chocolate brown. dark brown. jet black. ginger. auburn. dyed red. dyed any “unnatural color”. Multicolor. streaked. thin eyebrows. average eyebrows. thick eyebrows.

TATTOOS / PIERCINGS.

full sleeve. partial sleeve. arm tattoo. thigh tattoo. shin tattoo. wrist tattoo. lower back tattoo. hand/finger tattoo. foot tattoo. neck tattoo. face tattoo. chest tattoo. one tattoo. a few here and there. multiple. no tattoo. wants a tattoo.

monroe piercing. nose piercing. septum. nipple piercing(s). genital piercing(s). industrial piercings. earlobe piercing(s). prince albert piercing. eyebrow piercing(s). tongue piercing. lip piercing(s). tragus piercing. angel bites. labret. stretches out ears. navel piercing. inverse navel piercing. cheek piercing(s). smiley. nape piercing(s). no piercings.

COSMETICS.

light eyeliner. heavy eyeliner. cat eyes. mascara. fake eyelashes. matte lipstick. regular lipstick. lipgloss. red lips. pink lips. dark lips. bronzer. highlighter. eyeshadow. neutral eyeshadow. smoky eyes. colorful eyeshadow (pastel blue or purple). blush. lipliner. light contouring. heavy contouring. powder. matte foundation. shiny foundation. concealer. wears makeup regularly. wears makeup from time to time. never wears make-up.

SCENT.

floral. fruity. perfumes. aftershave. cocoa. moisturizer. natural soap. shampoo. cigarettes. leather. sweat. food. incense. marijuana. cologne. whiskey. wine. fried food. blood. fire. metal. rain. grass. ocean. autumn leaves. baked bread. freshly baked cookies. smoke. campfire. lavender. trees. pumpkin pie. musk. rose. gingerbread. peppermint. oak. honey. lemon. vanilla. coffee. cake. mint. rawhide. chemicals.

CLOTHES.

jeans. tight pants. over-the-knee socks. tights. leggings. yoga pants. pencil skirt. tight skirt. loose skirt. tight/formfitting dress. cardigans. blouse. button-up shirt. band t-shirt. sports t-shirt. sweatpants. cargo pants. tank top. cut off t-shirt. designer. high street. online stores. thrift. lingerie. long skirt. miniskirt. maxi dress. sundress. tie. tuxedo. cocktail dress. high slit dress/skirt. t-shirt. loose clothing. tunic. pteruges. tight clothing. jean shorts. sweater. sweater vest. armor. khaki pants. suit. hoodie. harem pants. basketball shorts. boxers. briefs. thong. hotpants. hipster panties. bra. sports bra. crop top. corset. binder. ballerina skirt. leotard. backpack. polka dot. stripes. glitter. silk. lace. leather. velvet. chemise. patterns. florals. vintage. neon colors. pastels. plaid. red. blue. black. dark colors. fur. faux fur. cool colors (green). warm colors (pink).

SHOES.

sneakers. slip-ons. flats. slippers. sandals. high heels. kitten heels. ankle boots. combat boots. boots. cowboy boots. knee-high. platforms. bare feet . loafers. caligae.

tagged by:

@insepairable​

tagging: youuuu!!

[paintmaid]

BODY. long legs. short legs. average legs. slender thighs. thick thighs. muscular thighs. skinny arms. soft arms. toned arms. muscular arms. toned stomach. flat stomach. flabby stomach. soft stomach. six pack. beer belly. lean frame. slender frame. muscular frame. voluptuous frame. petite frame. lanky frame. short nails. long nails. manicured nails. dirty nails. flat butt. round butt. toned butt. bubble butt. thick butt. small waist. average waist. thick waist. narrow hips. average hips. wide hips. big feet. average feet. small feet. soft feet. slender feet. calloused feet. calloused hands. soft hands. big hands. average hands. small hands. long fingers. short fingers. average fingers. broad shoulders. underweight. average weight. overweight.

HEIGHT. shorter than 140 cm. 141 cm-150 cm. 151 cm to 160 cm. 161 cm to 170 cm. 171 cm to 180 cm. 181 cm to 190 cm. 191 cm to 2 m. taller than 2 m.

SKIN. pale. fair. rosy. olive. dark. tanned. blotchy. smooth. acne. dry. greasy. freckled. scarred. combination.

EYES. small. large. average. grey. brown. black. blue. red. green. gold. amber. hazel. doe-eyed. almond. close-set. wide-set. deep-set. squinty. monolid. heavy eyelids. upturned. downturned.

HAIR. thin. thick. in-between. fine. normal. greasy. dry. soft. shiny. scruffy. frizzy. curly. wild. unruly. straight. smooth. wavy. floppy. cropped. pixie-cut. short. shoulder length. back length. waist length. floor length. buzz cut. undercut. bald. jaw length. mohawk. braids. vermilion. white. platinum blonde. strawberry blonde. golden blonde. dirty blonde. ombre. light brown. mouse brown. chestnut brown. golden brown. chocolate brown. dark brown. jet black. ginger. auburn. dyed red. dyed any “unnatural color”. Multicolor. streaked. thin eyebrows. average eyebrows. thick eyebrows.

TATTOOS / PIERCINGS. full sleeve. partial sleeve. arm tattoo. thigh tattoo. shin tattoo. wrist tattoo. lower back tattoo. hand/finger tattoo. foot tattoo. neck tattoo. face tattoo. chest tattoo. one tattoo. a few here and there. multiple. no tattoo. wants a tattoo.

monroe piercing. nose piercing. septum. nipple piercing(s). genital piercing(s). industrial piercings. earlobe piercing(s). prince albert piercing. eyebrow piercing(s). tongue piercing. lip piercing(s). tragus piercing. angel bites. labret. stretches out ears. navel piercing. inverse navel piercing. cheek piercing(s). smiley. nape piercing(s). no piercings.

COSMETICS. light eyeliner. heavy eyeliner. cat eyes. mascara. fake eyelashes. matte lipstick. regular lipstick. lipgloss. red lips. pink lips. dark lips. bronzer. highlighter. eyeshadow. neutral eyeshadow. smoky eyes. colorful eyeshadow (typically blue). blush. lipliner. light contouring. heavy contouring. powder. matte foundation. shiny foundation. concealer. wears makeup regularly. wears makeup from time to time. never wears make-up.

SCENT. floral. fruity. perfumes. aftershave. cocoa. moisturizer. natural soap. shampoo. cigarettes. leather. sweat. food. incense. marijuana. cologne. whiskey. wine. fried food. blood. fire. metal. rain. grass. ocean. autumn leaves. baked bread. freshly baked cookies. smoke. campfire. lavender. trees. pumpkin pie. musk. rose. gingerbread. peppermint. oak. honey. lemon. vanilla. coffee. cake. mint. rawhide. chemicals.

CLOTHES. jeans. tight pants. over-the-knee socks. tights. leggings. yoga pants. pencil skirt. tight skirt. loose skirt. tight/formfitting dress. cardigans. blouse. button-up shirt. band t-shirt. sports t-shirt. sweatpants. cargo pants. tank top. cut off t-shirt. designer. high street. online stores. thrift. lingerie. long skirt. miniskirt. maxi dress. sundress. tie. tuxedo. cocktail dress. high slit dress/skirt. t-shirt. loose clothing. tunic. pteruges. tight clothing. jean shorts. sweater. sweater vest. armor. khaki pants. suit. hoodie. harem pants. basketball shorts. boxers. briefs. thong. hotpants. hipster panties. bra. sports bra. crop top. corset. binder. ballerina skirt. leotard. backpack. polka dot. stripes. glitter. silk. lace. leather. velvet. chemise. patterns. florals. vintage. neon colors. pastels. plaid. red. blue. black. dark colors. fur. faux fur. cool colors. warm colors (pink).

SHOES. sneakers. slip-ons. flats. slippers. sandals. high heels. kitten heels. ankle boots. combat boots. boots. cowboy boots. knee-high. platforms. bare feet . loafers. caligae.

tagged by: @picorihero​

tagging: anyone who wants to!

[a-sweet-pea]

Refuge : Five

Previous

Marcus left the shop and slid straight into a waiting Tram; a gleaming silver bullet, marvel of modern technology that would, driverless, take him all the way to Carrien Square in silence and comfort so that he could then walk the extra five blocks to the apartment because the city government couldn’t be bothered extending the tram any further out than the remotest hipster coffee shop.

Once he’d sat in the cushioned seat, swiped his credit card in the slot (changing it from red to green) and buckled his seatbelt (rather awkwardly with only one available hand) he turned his attention to the other passenger.

Her hands were pressed against the plexiglass on either side of her and she was staring blankly into the distance, much as she had when Danby snatched her out of the containment unit. He unscrewed the lid just enough to break the seal so he wouldn’t have to raise his voice.

“How are you holding up in there?”

She pulled her hands back close to her as though she’d been shocked. But she didn’t say anything or acknowledge him.

“Hello?”

She was entirely closed off. Arms wrapped around herself, head down, unresponsive.

Did Danby do something to her?

Marcus unscrewed the lid the rest of the way and lifted it off. “Are you alright?” That got her attention finally, in a big way. She fell back against the tube and slid along the plexi wall until she was sitting as low and far from Marcus as she possibly could (which, considering that he was holding the tube, wasn’t very far).

“Where is my brother?” Her voice was quiet and strained, like she was reluctant to speak.

Marcus felt a weight off his chest. Little folk who’d been gassed ordinarily recovered within a few hours, but he’d seen a few cases where they were still drowsy and slurring their words days later. She’s with it enough to string a coherent sentence together; that’s a good sign. ”He’s still at the shop.” Although he was whispering, she flinched at the sound of his voice. He continued more quietly; in anything louder than the tram he wouldn’t have been able to hear himself talk. “I’m sorry I couldn’t pick him up as well. I should have negotiated more aggressively on the price, but that sales pitch threw me off.” He smiled sadly. “He was right enough that you’d sell quickly once he got everyone on display. I figured the extra cost was worth making sure I got hold of you first.”

The girl stared silently up at him for a moment, then lowered her face again. She spoke, so quiet he only barely made it out. “Monster.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow, lifting the container up so he could look at her through the clear side. “Marcus, actually.” Her downcast head snapped up. “Look, I’m sorry I left your brother. With any luck, Danby will hold him until I can acquire the funds.” She hardly seemed to process what he was saying. What little color was left in her face drained away as she stumbled backward, pressing her back against the far wall of the tube. This wasn’t first meeting nerves (which even the most socialized tiny was liable to have) this was the kind of raw, wild terror of someone who’d never been handled before today. Or at least, never by someone who wasn’t about to gas them and toss them into a containment unit.

Marcus tugged on his lapel with his free hand so the multicolored enamel bird pinned there would be visible from down in the tube. “Do you know what this is?” The question was superfluous; her behavior answered it clearly. But some part of him held out hope.

Silent frozen staring, then finally she shook her head.

Right.

Marcus looked away from her and grimaced.

I might have realized if I’d taken even a moment to think about it. Kenneth only sent the bulletin out a few weeks ago; and even so, she was picked up in the Old City, not off the streets. How would she have heard?

Damn.

“I…” Marcus turned to face her again, struggling to work out what he could or should say. There was a camera in every tram. The odds that anyone would look at the footage from any particular tram was infinitesimally small (unless he tried to run it off the track or there was some kind of collision) but Marcus had got into the habit of watching his words whenever there was a chance he was being recorded.

But in fairness, Marcus had no idea what he would have said even if there was no surveillance to worry about. She doesn’t know. Marcus couldn’t help going over the earlier transaction in his head, recolored in much darker tones. Rather than a co-conspirator putting on a convincing show for the shopkeeper, the girl had been genuinely terrified, convinced she was being bought by whatever sort of person usually shopped at Danby’s store. And she’s still afraid; afraid of me. Her arms were hugged tight around her, her body rigid.

“I’ll…explain everything when we get home.” A string of words that illuminated nothing. The girl clearly felt the same way; she just stared at him, expression unchanging. The way he was holding the tube, Marcus could see his own fingers curled around the back of the glass behind the girl. He’d held plenty of little people, but only ever colony bred; either purchased from Danby’s or rescued from homes. Never an Independent. I wish Amber was here. She would know how to talk to the girl, make her feel safe.

“I would tell you not to be scared but I can’t imagine that would help.” He moved his hand a little further down the tube; maybe if less of it was visible, the girl would be more comfortable. “That’s what my mother said to me the first time I went on an airplane; ‘Don’t be afraid, Marcus, it’s perfectly safe.” He chuckled at his pathetic attempt to imitate his mother’s high-pitched voice. “I still spent the whole trip hunched over a sick-bag, absolutely sure we were going to crash and die.” He sighed. “This isn’t helping at all, is it?”

The girl’s expression remained inscrutable, if in fact it had changed at all since he started talking. It was difficult to tell.

“I’m just going to stop talking before I embarass myself further. I’ll leave the lid off so you can breathe properly; please let me know if you need anything.” He turned to look out the window at the passing towers of glass and steel. Some first impression.

A/N: Figures that my first update in a million years is for the story no one was asking for lol. #sorrynotsorry

[cecilspeaks]

142 - Ufo Sighting Reports

As abpve, so below. As for the middle, Well, who knows.

Welcome to Night Vale.

We start today, as we often do, with the latest UFO sighting reports in the community.

Friday, 5:20 AM. The staff of the Desert Spring Tuberculosis Research center and Medication Retreat reported a luminous object out over the neighborhood across the highway. The object resembled a straw hat and had an apparent speed of 150 miles per hour, and apparent altitude of 2,000 feet. The staff recalled that the object illuminated the ground brightly, as they could see Leah Shapiro at the window of her house, receiving a phone call and then collapsing to her living room floor with a hand over her mouth. This was perfectly visible despite the sun not having yet risen.

Friday, 5:28 AM. Leann Hart, editor of the Night Vale Daily Journal, was preparing for a day of hard-hitting journalism. She does this using a dummy that she has set up in the back yard and labeled with a sign saying “Pivot to video”. She was just about to launch into her usual routine of hacking at this dummy for two and a half hours with a pair of hatchets made from pure silver, while screaming in fury, when she was stopped by a sight in the sky. An object the size and shape of a bus, and also having all other characteristic of a bus, was soaring over her. It flew at an apparent altitude of 500 feet, making no sound at all, and Leann tracked it for several minutes before losing sight of it. She said that she reacted like anyone would: by flinging a hatchet at it and shouting: “You’re not welcome here.”

Friday, 5:34 AM. My niece Janice was up early, because it was finally time to take the pre-SAT, and she didn’t want to feel hurried. She had been with herself long enough to know that feeling hurried kills any sense of momentum or order for the rest of the day, and makes her feel like she’s trying and failing to catch up with herself. Better to force herself out of bed into the cold of a winter desert morning than to feel behind herself later on. She had gone out into the front yard to get a bit of fresh air, and had waved to Leah Shapiro who was rushing out of her house and did not seem to notice the greeting, when Janice saw the craft. A red ellipsoidal object rose from behind the line of houses. At first, Janice thought it might just be a particularly quick sunrise, but soon realized the object was only the size of a small table and was right above her. Remembering what Tamika had taught her during team militia camp, Janice grabbed a heavy stone from the yard, but the object was already withdrawing. Janice yelled to ask if Leah had seen it too, but Leah was driving away. So Janice went back inside and made herself a smoothie. She feels she did pretty good on the pre-SAT.

Friday, 5:41 AM. Dana Cardinal, no longer mayor, who carries with her what she has done, but now also carries the possibility of what she could do next, was driving around the city. She does this sometimes, an aimless circle of a town that once had been her responsibility, but now is not and never will be again. The town wihout a mayor. This is a problem, but it is not her problem. She had just been passed by Leah Shapiro, who was going some 20 miles over the speed limit, when Dana spotted three sparkling objects in an equilateral formation, approximately 20 feet from each other at an apparent altitude of 100 feet. She shrugged and turned back to her aimless driving. This was no longer her problem.

Friday, 5:53 AM. Sarah Sultan, who is the president of the Night Vale Community College and also a smooth, fist-sized river rock, was driving to work. She had to get in early because of an all-department meeting to address the lingering effects of the rabbit infestation the college suffered five years ago. And she was still fuming from yesterday when the DMV had threatened to take away her license on the ground that no one understood how a smooth, fist-sized river rock was even capable of operating a car. She had had to take the driving test all over again, and while she got a perfect score and retained her license, that had been time robbed from her that she would never get back. Leah Shapiro, ahead of her in the lane, slowed down to turn into the Night Vale Community Hospital parking lot, and Sarah swerved around her, unwilling to wait for the turn to complete. As she did that, she saw a spherical body in the sky at an elevation of about 1,000 feet. It was a dozen centimeters across in apparent size and whirled around in a small circle of 30 feet in apparent diameter before rising up into the clouds.

Friday, 8:09 AM. Nilanjana Sikdar stood just outside of the hospital. She was there for a minor procedure, but it didn’t feel minor to her. She didn’t like hospitals, didn’t like the implications of what might happen there, didn’t like the doctors that appear and disappear randomly from room to room, and didn’t like thinking about all that can misfire and misalign in her own body. She sighed, looked up at the building, and saw through the window Leah Shapiro with tears rolling down her face. She was holding the hand of someone in a hospital bed, and she was telling the patient a story, it seemed. Perhaps reminiscing about some shared event from much earlier in both of their lives. More importantly, Nilanjana saw two flying objects in the reflection of the glass. She turned to see them fly west by north to north by east, radiant blue in the center and red around the edges. Then, knowing that not even UFOs could save her from necessary medical treatment, she turned to the building and trudged inside.

Friday, 11:15 AM. High school senior Josh Crayton was in the Ralphs parking lot showing off to his friends by turning himself into any tree they named. “Oak,” they shouted and he was an oak. “Spruce,” another shouted. “Too easy,” he told them. “Reginald,” one said and Josh took the form of Reginald from the nearby Whispering Forest. When he was in that tree form, he could see all the way over the roof of the Ralphs, and he saw a luminous flying object that’s upper half was covered in a curling mist or smoke. It was 40 degrees in elevation above the horizon and approximately the brightness of a new moon on a cloudless night. “Whoa,” said Josh. “Man,” said one of his friends. “It’s so weird to see a tree talk like that.”

Friday, 12:02 PM. Lorelei Alvarez had been called into work. It was never good news when she was called into work. No one ever rang her phone and said, “Hello, is this Lorelei Alvarez, Night Vale coroner? We’re super happy to need your help!” No. It is always the same hushed tones and hushed pain, tight and business like. She was thinking all of this as she had her coffee and steeled herself for what she would have to go do, when she saw an object in the midday sky. It left a multicolored trail as it moved, going to the west slowly and finally disappearing. “That doesn’t help me at all,” she said and poured the rest of her coffee down the sink.

Friday, 12:10 PM. Tamika Flynn was on her way to the hospital to check in on 14-year-old Gerald Sanders who had been injured at teen militia camp while practicing evasive maneuvers, which is what they call dodgeball. He had badly twisted his ankle and even though Tamika knew it wasn’t her fault, she felt guilt all the same, and then felt guilt over her guilt, as she knew she should not feel guilt over things that were not her fault. As she entered the hospital, she looked across the lot back where Leah Shapiro was standing, tears covering her face. Leah was standing at the parking payment machine, her lips moving soundlessly, her eyes staring blankly at the screen in front of her, and her hands frozen at her side. More importantly, behind Leah, a silver star shining conspicuously in the day-lit sky, moving from east to west, passing in and out of clouds, and changing altitude constantly.

Friday, 1:20 PM. Deb, the sentient patch of haze, was on her way out of a meeting with her representation. She was unhappy with the advertising gjobs they had been securing for her, finding that nothing they were sending her out on caused enough harm to humanity. “Get me out there selling the really toxic and dangerous stuff, something with side effects or at least some carcinogens,” she told them as she pounded the table with her fists and stormed out. An action that was difficult due to her ethereal and fistless nature. As she left, she saw a cylindrical UFO, a greenish bronze with a three to one ratio of length to thickness. “Oh buzz off, buster,” she told it.

Friday, 2:27 PM. Amber Akinye was taking a break from her job at the Diego and Diego and Diego and Diego and Diego funeral home. The one that was opened recently on Araburus Road by those very nice quintuplets. Amber was exhausted after talking Leah Shapiro through all the options. The funeral would happen in just two days, and there was so much to do and to decide. Amber thought that Leah was holding on pretty well, but still, it was a lot for both of them. Maybe Amber was too empathetic to work a job like this. She hated to think of empathy as weakness, but she only had so much energy to give. As she was thinking this, she saw a golden colored oblong at a high altitude in the sky above, moving at a steady speed in a five-degree upward climb. “I just got this job,” Amber thought, “I should give it more. I’ll give it more time.”

Fridya, 5:15 PM. Lieutenant Regis of Unit 7 of the Local National Guard Station and KFC Combo Store was standing guard as usual, and witnessed an (anchor) shaped ring of light to the southwest, and at apparent altitude of 200 feet. He waved. “Enjoy the weekend!” he shouted. “See ya on Monday!”

Friday, 8:09 PM. Janice Rio from down the street was having dinner at the Moonlite All-Nite Diner. She had ordered a Greek salad with chicken on it and was feeling comfortably superior to Leah Shapiro in the next booth over, who was on her second plate of fries. As she sat with this great sense of self, Janice glanced outside and saw a yellow ball of light with a diameter of more than 20 inches hanging in the sky. It hung silently for two minutes and then disappeared. “Good riddance,” Janice muttered and returned to her salad.

We pause briefly from our UFO sighting reports to take in something far stranger: The weather report.

[“Color TV” by Answering Machine, https://answeringmachine.bandcamp.com/]

Saturday, 12:01 AM. Leah Shapiro parked in front of her house, but she didn’t find the will to go in. What was there for her but the echo of a daily routine that would see no more days? So instead she drove out to the scrublands. It was chilly, but that felt good to her. It felt like she had been uncomfortably warm for a long while, and this was the first time that the temperature had been right. (-) bit at her ankles, she didn’t have the right shoes for this kind of walk, but here she was, walking. The night was completely clear. The moon was a careful situation. As she walked, Leah tried her best to sort through her feelings. It was obvious to her which feeling she should have in this moment. Mourning, a wild grief, a sadness that would never be cured by however many decades of slow forgetting she had left. This was what others had assumed she was feeling and so those were the emotions they managed. “This must be quite difficult,” the doctor had said professionally. “I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m sure you loved her very much,” the woman at the funeral home had said empathetically. “Oh my god, you poor thing, you must be bereft!” said Laura at the Moonlite All-Nite Diner with a deep sincerity, and then she had taken Leah’s order of us many French fries as can fit on a plate. Laura had brought two plates.

But the truth is that Leah did not feel mourning, grief, or sadness. She supposed that those feelings would not come, she hoped they did, because she didn’t know what it would mean for herself if they did not. However, emotions are not domestic creatures that can be summoned with a whistle. They are wild and they move as they please. So try as she might to access her sadness, Leah couldn’t. What she could find, to her horror and shame, was relief. She felt so relieved, and she felt free. She felt absolutely free and completely relieved, and she felt that she must be the worst person in the world for feeling those things. “What is wrong with me?” she said, and nothing that heard her answered except a lone coyote, who started and fled to a warm groove in the earth, where he felt safe from predators. There was nothing wrong with Leah. She was free, and she felt relieved. Later she would feel sadness, sadness that’s vast shape would hardly be conveyed by such a simple word, but not now. Now she walked until she couldn’t see her car, until the lights of Night Vale disappeared behind the hill, until it seemed possible that no other person lived on the Earth. As she stood there, a silver craft descended from the sky. It rotated above her, brilliant, multicolored lights coming from windows on all sides. She watched it hover, and then watched as it rose back up into the sky, until it was indistinguishable from all the other wandering stars. “Huh,” she said, and began the long walk back to her car.

This has been UFO sighting reports.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: In Europe, instead of cell phone, they say mobile. Instead of arugula, they say rocket. Instead of letting you die because of lack of health insurance, they take care of you when you’re sick. It’s a weird place.

[wakandas-vibranium]

Cut From The Same Cloth ||| Part Four

(1), (2), (3) (5)

Pairing: Erik Killmonger x Black Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warning(s):  Strong language, violence, mentions of past abuse

Taglist: @dreadedphilosphy, @texasbama, @youreadthatright, @sweettea-and-honeybutter, @muse-of-mbaku, @maya-leche, @madhatterhelsing, @chefjessypooh. @vanitykocaine, @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove, @onyour-right, @misspooh, @idilly, @elaindeereads, @destinio1, @sugarhoneybee928, @thiccdaddy-mbaku

You turned the knob on the stove, dismantling the heat. Christmas dinner was finally done! 

You may have gone a little overboard with the decorations, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You brought a small Christmas tree and wrapped it with a string of multicolored lights. The gift you bought Erik was under the tree, wrapped in blue paper. You couldn’t wait for him to open it. You even went so far as to buying him a stocking, stuffing it with a bunch of shit. 

You lit a couple of vanilla scented candles to get rid of the cooking smell. You scrambled through your DVD collection, fist pumping the air in victory once you found Home Alone, popping it in the player. 

This is the happiest you’ve been in years. For once, you weren’t going to be alone. Erik is the only true friend you’ve had and you wouldn’t want to spend Christmas with anyone else. You weren’t even mad that your neighbor Matthew was blasting Mariah Carey again. You even hummed along to a few songs.

You smiled softly at the knock on your door. Erik was here! You strutted to the door, twisting the knob and throwing the door open in excitement. Erik smiled at you throwing his hands up in greeting.

“Merry Christmas, E!” You said as you pulled him in for a hug. 

“Merry Christmas, (Y/N)!” He laughed, hugging you back with just as much enthusiasm.

You broke the hug, motioning for him to come inside. You closed the door behind him, pointing to the tree as you snagged the bottle of Hennessy from his hand. 

“Gifts go under the tree,” you called over your shoulder as you made your way back to the kitchen, “We’ll open them after we eat.”

Erik shook his head at the small tree, kneeling to slide your present under it. He stood up, raising his eyebrow at the stocking with his name on it, written in blue glitter. Your eyes sparkled as you watched him pull it off the hook. He fiddled through it as he strolled in the kitchen, eyes widening at all the pots and pans scattered over the counter.

“Damn girl, you threw down in the kitchen.” He complimented, lifting the tops off a few pans as he peaked inside. 

“I’ll fix you a plate. You want everything?”

“Hell yeah.” He licked his lips as his stomach growled. 

He slipped off his jean jacket, hooking it on the back of the chair before sitting down. He rolled up the sleeves of his beige merino sweater as he watched you fix his plate, eyes lingering on your ass.

You set his plate down in front of him along with a glass of henny. You sniggered at the hungry face he made as he eyeballed the macaroni and cheese. You turned around to fix your own plate.

You sat down across from him, digging into your plate. You outdid yourself this year. Erik moaned around every bite he took. You didn’t bother asking him if the food was okay. The sounds escaping from his lips was enough of an answer.

“I never thought I would say this, but your chicken is better than my mom’s.” He admitted, rubbing his full belly.

“I’m glad you like it.” You smiled, downing the rest of your amber liquid.

“I made sweet potato pie,” you added, “If you want some.”

Your eyes crinkled as you sank your teeth into your bottom lip, biting back a laugh at the face Erik made at your announcement. He looked like a child in a candy store. 

“I think I love you.” He said.

___

You both were on the couch now, passing the bottle of henny back and forth as you watched Home Alone. You hummed as the dark liquor flowed through you. It went down smoothly and you felt all warm and tingly. 

“Alright,” you slapped your hands together, rubbing them excitedly, “Time for presents!”

You leaned forward, snagging the presents from under the tree. You kept yours and handed Erik’s his. 

He smiled at you, “How did you know my favorite color is blue?”

“I’m very observant.” You shrugged before opening your gift. 

You laughed as your eyes scanned the collage of pictures you and Erik took. You two were some silly sons of bitches. You weren’t expecting a picture frame of your earliest memories. It made your heart flutter. 

“I never realized how many selfies we took!” You commented, flashing your pearly whites at him. 

The corners of your mouth turned down as realization struck. You weren’t a happy person, haven’t been for years. This picture was proof of how happy being friends with Erik made you.

“You like it?” He questioned, eyebrows furrowing at the dejected look on your face. 

“I love it!” You leaned forward, kissing him on the cheek in thanks, “This is going right on my nightstand!” You assured.

“Good.” He smiled, proud that you liked his gift.

“Open yours!” You urged, hugging your knees in excitement as you watched him tear through the blue wrapping paper. 

“How the—”he started, blinking at you in shock.

You got him an old ass book he would not shut up about. He would go on and on about how his mother was supposed to get it for him, but never got the chance. There’s only four copies of it in the world and now he has one. It wasn’t that hard to find, although it was pricy, but you didn’t care. Money was never an issue for you anyway. 

“I’ve got connections.” You smirked as he flipped through it, his amber eyes shone with delight. 

“I’ve been lookin’ for this book for a long ass time, (Y/N).”

“Eh, I know a guy...” 

“Thanks, ma.” He squeezed your hand.

“You’re welcome, E.”

_____

The gunshots from the television startled both of you awake. Your eyes fluttered open as you turned to the glowing screen, Kevin was taunting the pizza man. You were laying on top of Erik. He was so warm. You didn’t want to move.

“Hey.” Erik mumbled, resting his hands on your lower back. 

“Our drunk asses must have fell asleep.” You guessed, removing yourself from him. 

“I’m gonna use the bathroom.” He sat up, pulling the sleeves of his sweater down before standing.

“It’s that way.” You pointed in the direction of your bathroom. 

As soon as Erik closed the bathroom door there was a knock on your door. Who in the hell could that be on Christmas Day? You muted the television before tiptoeing to the door. You looked through your foggy ass peephole, unable to see who was behind the door, cussing under your breath you slowly opened the door. Your heart sank almost instantly at the sight of your ex boyfriend, Anthony standing there with a bouquet of roses.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Anthony smirked, “You miss me?”

You froze. The last time you saw him his fist was connecting with your face. A sudden chill swept through you. Anthony meant no good. 

“What the fuck are you doing in Massachusetts?” You spat angrily. 

“I’m here to see you, baby.” He announced stepping into your apartment, closing the door with his booted foot.

He shrugged nonchalantly, as if his presence didn’t make you nauseous. Anthony took a step closer and you backed away out of instinct. The smug look on his face made you want to kick him in his nuts. The sick son of a bitch. Why wouldn’t he just leave you alone?

“How’d you know where to find me?” You reiterated, folding your arms over your chest as he tried to hand you the roses. He huffed, tossing them on the counter instead.

“Your little ass whooping at the gas station was on a news cycle.” 

You rolled your eyes. You told those goddamn reporters that you didn’t want to be filmed. You groaned, you should’ve known those vultures weren’t going to do what you asked.

“What makes you think I wanted to see your sorry ass on Christmas?” You jabbed.

“C’mon baby! I know you miss me.” He said, reaching for your arm. You turned to the side, dodging him. He frowned at your coldness.

“I don’t think about your trifling ass, Anthony. I don’t even know why I gave you the time of day.”

“Don’t make me knock you the fuck out again, bitch cause I’ll do it!” He threatened, storming over to you with his hand raised.

You grabbed the gun you kept stashed under the coffee table, pointing it at Anthony’s chest. His eyes widened as he raised his hands, taking a cautious step back. Yeah, who’s the bitch now?

“Quit playing, (Y/N).” He chuckled nervously.

“You think I haven’t killed a nigga before?”

“Oh, I know you have,” He bolstered, “Kuznetsov told me all about you.”

All of the blood drained from your face.

Kuznetsov. 

You blinked in confusion, lowering your gun just a smidge. Anthony lowered his hands, sighing in relief. You don’t know what for because you still were going to kill him. You just needed some questions answered first. 

“How do you know Kuznetsov?” You questioned.

“I work for him.”

“How long?” You probed, getting impatient.

“Before I met you.” He admitted, smirking as if he saw the light bulb shine over your head. 

“He sent you after me.” You confirmed.

Goddamnit you were so stupid. You should’ve known Anthony wasn’t interested in you from the jump. You let your guard down around him and that almost cost you your life.

“Kuznetsov told me to gain your trust...and I did.”

That one name held so much power over you. It made you sick to your stomach and angry all over again. You were never going to be at peace until he was dead. You needed to kill him.

“That grimy son of a bitch should be dead in his grave, but he’s not because of you.” You hissed.

“You still mad about that?” He huffed, rolling his eyes.

“He killed my dad right in front of me!” You screamed, eyes filling with tears.

“He took you in though. Gave you a life most kids would die for.”

“You mean forced me to join his Russian mob?”

“The way I hear it, you were a legend. Wrapped up so many confirmed kills before your eighteenth birthday.” He smiled at you fondly.

“I didn’t have a choice.” You uttered.

“Your pops was a pussy compared to Kuznetsov so he had to go.” 

You chuckled darkly, tightening your grip on the gun, removing the safety. This asshole had a lot of nerve, bad mouthing your father in front of your face, while you were holding a gun? Foolish. 

“Where should I shoot you first?” 

You moved the gun slowly, unsure of where to pop a cap. 

“I’m not scared of you, (Y/N).” He mumbled.

You tilted your head to the side, marveling in the fact that Anthony was scared. He didn’t want that to be known, but the nervous sweat trickling down the side of his face gave him away. 

“...Probably in the knee,” you continued, ignoring his words, “Now that hurts pretty bad.”

“You always were a crazy bitch!”

“Yeah, well when you’ve been through some horrible shit you tend to lose a bit of yourself.”

“(Y/N), don’t do it.” Erik said, coming around the corner. You jumped a little in surprise. For a split second you forgot that he was here. 

Anthony’s eyes darted to Erik, nostrils flaring in anger and jealousy at the sight of another man in your home. Erik could probably take Anthony in his sleep. Erik was taller and broader. Anthony wouldn’t stand a chance. 

“You don’t even know what this nigga did to me!” You cried.

“Give me the gun, (Y/N).” Erik whispered, placing his hand on top of yours, grabbing the gun. 

“Oh so, you fucking some other nigga?!” Anthony roared, stomping toward you now that Erik had the gun. 

“No, I’m not fucking him, but even if I was it ain’t none of your goddamn business!”

Erik raised the gun, aiming it at Anthony, stopping him in his tracks, “Now I suggest you get the fuck out of here because I will shoot you.”

“I ain’t afraid of you, nigga.” Anthony yelled, backing away to the door. 

“You should be,” Erik warned, “Ask about me.”

“(Y/N), you know what we’re capable of!” Anthony warned, stumbling out of your apartment.

“Get the fuck out of my apartment now!” You screamed as you pushed him before slamming the door closed. 

“You good?” Erik asked, watching you pace back and forth, swearing under your breath, unable to calm your nerves. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You lied. 

You glanced up at the ceiling, willing yourself to pull it together. You were so close to cracking. You weren’t sad. No, you were angry. Angry that you didn’t put a bullet in Anthony’s skull. 

“Come here.” Erik set the gun down before pulling you to the couch, sitting down next to you. 

“You wanna tell me what that was about?” He asked calmly, rubbing your back.

“I can tell you...but I’d have to kill you.” You leveled with him. 

He raised an eyebrow in question. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. You couldn’t tell him. He didn’t know what he was getting himself into. This wasn’t his fight. 

“You should go.” You sighed.

“You sure?”

You shot up from the couch, your suddenness startling him, but he followed you to the door. You rushed to the door, mind racing with each step. You didn’t want to, but you had to let Erik go. That was the best option. The safest option. If he befriended you he’d end up dead. Just like anyone else stupid enough to get close to you. 

“Yeah,” you nodded frantically, “You probably should forget about me if you want to live.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He rasped, looking down in your eyes.

“Exactly what it sounds like,” you pushed him over the threshold, “I’m sorry but it’s for your own good. Goodbye Erik.”

Your heart sank at the hurt look on his face, but you slammed the door anyway. He’d thank you for it later. You were protecting him. 

_____

You stepped out of the shower, dried off then flopped right on the bed, not even bothering to get dressed. It’s been six days since Christmas and you are at a total loss. Every second your mind raced with dooming thoughts. You were always on edge, but now your paranoia escalated. Your phone buzzed, it was yet another text from Erik. You turned your phone off, tossing it on the bed and turning over on your stomach.

Anthony is going to come back. You knew that for sure. You just didn’t know when or with whom.   If Kuznetsov wanted a war then that’s just what he’ll get. If he was going to kill you, you were going to go down swinging. You weren’t afraid to die, not really. You just didn’t want Erik to get caught in the crossfire. He meant too much to you and you’d do anything to prevent his death.

You don’t like ignoring Erik, but it’s for his own good. He is the only good thing to happen to you since ever and you didn’t want him to end up dead like everyone else you cared about. Obviously, he can take care of himself, but you weren’t going to risk it. 

You laid there in silence for hours. Unsure of what to do. You’ve packed and unpacked all of your things twice already. You didn’t want to leave. This was your life now. You had two years left of college and your determination to be someone great wouldn’t let you leave. 

The three piercing knocks at your door interrupted your thoughts. You reached for your gun as you tiptoed out of bed, slipping on one of your oversized shirts that stopped above your knees as you crept into the hallway. You sighed with relief, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip at the sound of Erik’s booming voice. 

“(Y/N) I know you’re in there! I’ll knock on this motherfucka all night if I have to.”

Your eyes narrowed in frustration. He wasn’t making this easier for you. You didn’t want him to leave you alone, but it was for his own good. This stubborn ass man would not stay away from you. 

You set the gun on the counter, shaking your head as you contemplated answering the door. Erik was safer if he left you alone. Why couldn’t he see that? Before you knew it your hand twisted the knob, pulling the door open.

You were happy to see him even if he was a hardheaded asshole. You folded your arms over your chest, looking him up and down. He was wearing a dark pair of jeans, a black sweater and a pair of Jordan’s. He looked damn good.

“Did you get my text?” He smiled smugly, not displaying his surprise that you opened the door.

You stepped to the side, motioning for him to come in. 

“Yeah and I’m not going to a fucking New Year’s Eve party, Erik.” You argued, slamming the door once he stepped inside.

“Yes, the fuck you are. You’ve been moping around since Christmas and you’re not bringing this sad shit into the new year.”

“Do you not care about your life? If you did you would stay the fuck away from me!” You warned, placing your hands on your hips, “Anthony is working for Kuznetsov now and is going to kill you if you don’t stay away from me!”

“Man fuck Anthony! I ain’t scared of nobody! You think I’m ‘bout to let that nigga ruin the only friendship I’ve ever had? Nah fuck that!”

“Erik!” You placed your hand on his shoulder, looking him in the eyes, “I care about you. Everyone I’ve ever cared about is dead. That’s no coincidence. It’s a pattern! Do you not see that I’m a murder magnet?!”

He shrugged your hand off, stomping to your bedroom, throwing open your closet and sifting through your clothes. You followed him into your bedroom, trying your best to push him out of your room, but he wouldn’t move. He was wasting his time. You weren’t going to that goddamn party. You wanted to stay home and mope on the couch in peace and quiet.

“I ain’t going into another year alone and neither are you! Do you hear me?” He shouted, gripping your wrists as he pushed you back against the wall. 

You faltered, taken aback by the despair in his eyes. In that moment you realized Erik needed you just as much as you needed him. You relaxed, leaning your head against the wall. You were done fighting him. “Yeah.” You mumbled, resting your hands on his chest. They moved in sync with his shallow breaths.

“What was that? I ain’t here you.”

“Yes.” You repeated, louder this time.

“Now go lotion those ashy ass knees and let’s get ready for this party.” He quipped. 

You shot him a bird before snatching the cocoa butter off your dresser, staring a hole through his stupid, cute face as you rubbed the cream all over your ashen knees. He raised a challenging eyebrow at you before turning around, searching through your closet for an outfit for you to wear.

[thecraftgremlin]

In A Little Pickle (A Metalocalypse Fanfic)

I don't always write fanfic, but when I do it... um... I don't know how to end that. There's basically no Pickles and his nephew content, so I decided to give the fandom what it probably didn't need but has anyway now. The story basically just came to me as a series of scenes and eventually I just decided to write those scenes, string them together, and say screw the rest.

Also on Ao3

Nathan found Pickles sitting at the kitchen table of Mordhaus, glaring at a brightly colored card in his hands like it had stolen the last bottle of vodka on the planet. He would have just grabbed the bag of chips he was after and left the drummer to… whatever it was he was doing, if Pickles hadn’t spoken up.

“He’s pure evil, Nathan.”

“Uhhh… who?” Nathan was only half paying attention, carefully considering the weighty decision of barbeque versus salt and vinegar flavor.

“Seth,” Pickles spat with the venom he reserved for his family.

Having ultimately decided on both flavors for his snack, Nathan wondered what Pickles’ asshole brother had to do with a card covered with multicolored balloons and confetti. His questions were soon answered as Pickles stood from his seat at the table, pacing and waving the card in the air.

“I thought I knew how low that motherfucker could sink! But no, this time he can’t just try to worm his way into my life and bleed me dry like he always does. Now he’s getting his fuckin’ kid in on the act!” He punctuated the rant by slapping the card down on the table. Now invested in the drama, Nathan picked the offending paper up, squinting at the text without the aid of his glasses. The outside cheerfully announced “You’re Invited!,” a handwritten note inside that somehow felt slimy for Nathan to read.

Pickles,

Little Davey’s turning 5 next week, and he says he wants his Uncle Pickles to come to his birthday party more than anything. I know you’re busy being a big hotshot rock star and shit, but you better not disappoint my little man. Party’s at my place on the 17that noon. Make sure to get him something good.

-Seth

It was times like these that made Nathan glad to be an only child with no obligations like these to deal with.

“Couldn’t you just… Not go?” Nathan offered sagely. It seemed like the easiest solution to the problem, and he wasn’t particularly interested in thinking too hard about helping Pickles with his family crap.

“And give that douchebag more reasons to think I owe him something? No,” Pickles slumped back into his seat at the table, “I gotta go to my nephew’s birthday party.”

“I still don’ts gets why you wanteds me to helps you picks out a borthsday present?”

Pickles looked Toki dead in the eyes; picturing his collections of stuffed animals and the model airplanes that hung from his bedroom ceiling, the pastel fleece pajamas he wore when he watched cartoons in the living room eating the sugariest cereals his diabetes would allow. Pickles smiled and put a hand on his shoulder.

“’Cause you’re a good pal.”

Toki seemed to buy it, a wide smile breaking out on his face.

“Aww, t’anks Pickle!”

From the moment they entered the toy store, Pickles already felt overwhelmed by the sea of plastic and plush. He hoped he could keep Toki focused for long enough for them to find something suitable for a five year old. He let Toki lead the way, the two musicians wandering the brightly colored aisles. Pickles immediately vetoed anything clown related Toki tried to suggest. Only people who had childhoods as fucked up as Toki’s actually liked clowns, and Pickles hoped to the metal gods that Seth wasn’t that much of a piece of shit to his kid. They examined toy weapons construction sets and science kits, debated the merits of ninjas versus pirates versus superheroes. Finally, Pickles’ attention was caught by a flash of metallic green. He picked up a hefty box proudly showing off a robotic dinosaur and remote control inside. It was expensive enough that Seth couldn’t call him a cheapskate over it, and he couldn’t see any of those small parts that were bad for little kids for some reason.

“Hey, what about this one?” He held the box up to Toki for approval.

“Oh, cools! Ja, dat’s a good ones! Everybody likes de dinosaurs, rights?”

That was certainly true. Even as Pickles’ interests had turned to rock n’ roll and illicit substances as a kid, he still remembered having a healthy appreciation for a good old t-rex or stegosaurus. As they left with his present and several items for Toki, as they had agreed, Pickles felt a little better about the whole party ordeal. Maybe he could actually do this.

He couldn’t do this.

Pickles was baking in the Australian heat, his only source of respite his cup of what used to be fruit punch, now replaced completely with whiskey from his hip flask. His father glared at him from across the yard every time he pulled it out, but Pickles was beyond caring at that point. He supposed he was lucky to have avoided his mom for as long as he did, but she had him cornered and was on her usual lecture of how Seth was so responsible and such a good father and what was Pickles doing with his life, still playing around with that band of his. In the background, Amber chatted with other equally disinterested looking moms, a handful of rowdy kids wrestled in the dirt while their dads, the greasy lowlife types that always seemed to flock around Pickle’s brother, made shady deals amongst themselves. Sitting at the table piled with presents and a plain looking blue and white sheet cake was little David, playing a handheld video game, having long given up on trying to play with the other kids. Pickles felt bad that he had initially assumed the kid was in on Seth’s manipulative bullshit. He had thought his nephew would be a little hellspawn, like his brother had been as a child. Instead Pickles only saw a lonely little boy, trying to enjoy a crappy birthday party. Pickles felt like he was being suffocated under all this heat and judgment, but he had decided when he saw David that he wouldn’t let his family get to him, even as they weighed him down with their usual complaints. He was surprised when his relief came from Seth.

“Alright, time for presents!”

As David unwrapped generic sports equipment and t-shirts for year old movies, Pickles started to feel better about his presence at the party. At least he had gotten a good present for the kid. At least they couldn’t give him shit about that. Pickles felt himself stand a little taller as Seth pulled out his present.

“This one’s from your Uncle Pickles. Should be a good one, he’s really rich,” Seth said, directed completely at Pickles. David unwrapped his toy and Pickles swore he saw a sparkle in the boy’s eyes for the first time that afternoon. His growing pride was soon squashed by a mutter from his brother.

“Guy’s got all the money in the fuckin’ world and only gets the kid one present.”

Of course.

“I can’t believe you, Pickles,” his mother said from behind him.

Of. Fucking. Course.

“You don’t visit your nephew even once since he was born, and now you think you can just buy your way into his life with some expensive toy?” Molly had wormed her way in front of Pickles, “You make me sick.”

That was it. He couldn’t take this anymore.

“God, there’s nothing I can do right for you people, is there?”

It was then that the birthday boy burst into tears and ran into the house, leaving his brand new robot dinosaur half-opened on the table.

“Look what you’ve done now, Pickles!”

Pickles had stomped into Seth's kitchen in search of more booze, but instead he stumbled on his nephew curled into a tiny sniffling ball under the table. He kneeled down to the boy’s level and tried to speak as gently as possible.

“Hey, buddy. You doin’ ok?”

David minutely shook his head. Dumb question.

“Mind if I sit next to you?”

The boy shrugged. Pickles squashed himself into the little space, for once thankful for his short stature. He had no idea what to do now. He didn’t even know how to comfort a grown adult, much less a little kid.

“Hey, um. I’m sorry if you didn’t like your present. I can, uh, buy you something else if that helps?”

“No, I like it.” David’s voice was small and quiet. Pickles realized that this was the first time he had actually talked to his nephew, beyond the awkward greeting they’d shared earlier that day.

“So, uh, something else up then?”

The little boy was silent for a moment.

“The party was so boring. Daddy didn’t invite my friends, just those mean kids from my class and their weird dads. And then everybody started yelling and-“ He whimpered and curled in on himself tighter. Pickles took a chance and put a hand on the boy’s back, rubbing gently.

“Yeah. Doesn’t sound like a very fun birthday. I’m sorry.”

“I thought it would be fun with you here.”

Pickles was taken aback by that. He had assumed that Seth had been lying about David wanting him there.

“You really wanted me to come?”

The boy looked up at Pickles with watery eyes, his expression serious as a five year old’s could be.

“You’re so cool! You’re a rock star and you’re my uncle! But-but you don’t like me…”

“No, no, no!” Pickles interjected quickly. God, he was the worst uncle in the world. “I do like you! It’s just… Our family… They aren’t the nicest people to be around. But you’re not like that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you’re cool. Rock stars can always tell when somebody’s cool.”

Pickles saw that little bit of sparkle return to his nephew’s eyes. He wondered if there was a way he could keep it there.

“Hey, I got an idea. Tomorrow, would you wanna spend the day hanging around with your Uncle Pickles and his band?”

“No, nope, nuh-uh. No way we’re spending the day hanging around with some little kid.” Was what the members of Dethklok said five minutes before meeting Pickles’ nephew David. Five minutes aftermeeting him, the band was dead set on giving the kid the best, most metal post-birthday a boy could ask for. The six stormed arcades, ice cream parlors, even a petting zoo (partly with the logic that Australian petting zoos are more brutal because everything in Australia can kill you, partly with insistence from Toki.) One by one, the band’s uncaring brutal facades began to crack under the innocent wonder of a small child.

Nathan spent a good portion of the day with David perched on his shoulders, the two intently discussing the brutality of various dinosaurs.

Skwisgaar ate up the enraptured way the boy watched him play, which led to the guitarist pulling out increasingly more complicated techniques to keep his attention.

Murderface and Toki delighted in crafting elaborate and violent stories for the monster finger puppets and tiny parachuters David had won at the arcade.

By the time they were on the Dethcopter heading for Seth’s place, the band was seriously discussing the merits of adopting/kidnapping/buying him from his parents, before they realized there was actual work involved in having the kid around and promptly gave up on that idea. David left the chopper with his uncle to a chorus of suspiciously un-brutal sounding goodbyes. Just before reaching the front door, the little boy abruptly turned and threw his arms around Pickles’ waist.

“Thanks Uncle Pickles.”

“No problem buddy,” Pickles replied, awkwardly returning the hug as best as he could.

“Can you come visit again?”

He knew he should say no. Seeing David again meant dealing with Seth, and Pickles didn’t know if he could deal with seeing that greedy douche’s face on a regular basis. But with those big eyes staring up at him from that sweet freckled face…

“Of course, any time kiddo.”

Seth opened the door to let his son in, immediately questioning him on what kinds of things he’d managed to make his uncle pay for. Just before the door closed, David looked back at Pickles with a smile and held up his hand in the classic devil horns.

Yeah. Pickles could deal with Seth for this kid.

[fangirlj-is-a-writer]

Run.

Alina Willow Rowland was, and had always been a city girl. If you asked her how to light a fire, she'd tell you about how one time she watched a movie and saw that the characters used their glasses and the sun. The first time Alina had made s'mores was when she was eleven years old and they weren't even from a fireplace. Those reasons (and other ones) had her friends shocked when she decided that they should go stay in a cabin in the woods. Of course, it wasn't real camping in tents and living outside but it was a start. 

Her friends James, Finn, Amber, and Kaylee were hesitant at first. They didn't know what to tell her. I mean they thought it was a good idea. But they had this sinking feeling that this trip was not going to go well. After a minor debate, they agreed. 

--The Day of the Trip--

Alina and Kaylee were currently waiting for Amber, James, and Finn to get to Alina's house. 

"So, you excited?" Alina asked. She was, and she wanted her friends to also be excited.

"Yeah, of course!" She was lying through her teeth. "I mean the five of us are going to have an amazing time and I think this trip is going to be a story worth retelling."

The pair got quiet. Although the silence did not last for long. James decided to burst through the door.

"Y'all ready!", he exclaimed, "Where are your bags?"

"Have you decided to finally be a gentleman?" Alina asked slightly amused. James had a grin on his face. 

"No! You women take too long to get ready and need strong men carry your bags."

Kaylee glared at him. He quickly grabbed her bags and started running. Kaylee chased after him. Finn glanced over to them and started laughing his head off. Alina gladly joined in.

"Need help with your bags?" Finn was gesturing towards her bags. Alina nodded grabbing her mini backpack and walking to the car. However, no one was in the car. Kaylee was still chasing James and Amber was recording the whole thing. Kaylee's bags were scattered all over the yard. 

"This is going to be fun." Alina smiled to herself, "Losers, get in the car. We're going camping!" She yelled as she was getting into the car. Eventually they all got in and started driving. 

-- 4 hours later --

Alina looked out the window excitedly. She couldn't stay still, jumping up and down in her seat with so much joy in her eyes as they passed all the giants with multicolored leaves. As soon as they got to the cabin she rushed into the cabin. Kaylee and Amber grabbed their things and walked inside. 

The boys had a different plan.

"Look at this place!" Alina only saw the beauty of the cabin. The beautiful fireplace and the paintings on the walls. She enjoyed looking at the stain glass window. However, Kaylee and Amber knew they already wanted to leave. The second they had even stepped foot into the cabin they felt chills. It was like the cabin was actual Hell and it had frozen over. 

Amber  Amber could have sworn that she saw the eyes of a painting move. She stared in shock. 

"Guys, did you-" There was knocking on the window. Kaylee walked over to the window until Amber yelped before she got dragged into the hallway. Finn was her captor in this scenario and he found it quite hilarious when she started struggling. Of course, she was still creeped out because there was a random knight standing over the both of them. Amber told him to shut up, but Finn was silently laughing. From the corner of her eyes, she could see James hiding in behind the couch. 

Alina and Kaylee were looking out to see if anyone was out there. James slowly tiptoed towards them. He yelled and they both jumped. Alina's first reaction was to punch him square in the jaw. Yeah this weekend was going to be full of surprises. Kaylee would normally be the one to do that but Alina had beat her to it. 

Kaylee was the one to rush to get him an ice pack. She had to look for Ziploc bags in the cabinets because there were no ice packs. The strange thing is that she could have sworn she left a cabinet open. But when she turned around it was closed. 'That's weird' she thought but she quickly turned her attention back to finding the Ziploc bags. But when she turned back to the sink and the Ziploc bags were right next to it. She didn't think anything weird was going on. She put some ice from the refrigerator in the bag and brought it to James. 

"Thanks." He grabbed the bag and glared at Alina.

"I've already apologized!" At this point, she was very annoyed. "And if you didn't pull the prank I wouldn't have punched you in the first place."

"Well, Finn and I were just trying to have some fun." 

"Pulling a horrible prank is your idea of fun?" 

"It wasn't horrible!" he looked very offended but Alina was sure he was just messing around. Alina stopped being so sure when he stormed off into the woods.

 Amber trailed after him. At first she tried just walking but then he started sprinting. 

"James!" She yelled. She started sprinting but the more she tried to reach him the farther he seemed to get. Amber looked around at the dark clouds and figured it was going to rain. She kept yelling for James to go back with her to the cabin but he wasn't in sight. She heard the leaves crunch behind her as she walked alone. She had the feeling something was behind her but she was scared to look. The crunching sounds got louder each step she took. That's when she started sprinting. 

Once she got to the house she rushed inside. No one was in the living room. She heard laughter come from the hallway. The same hallway where the knight was. She went to the door next to the knight. The door was cracked open just a little bit. She saw James and Alina talking in the corner. 

'Wait, since when did he get back? He was farther than me' Amber was confused. She could have sworn that she was closer to the cabin. What Amber didn't notice was the young girl around the age of eight. She had pigtail braids and was wearing a white night gown. But more on that later.

Amber decided to go to the kitchen. There she found Finn and Kaylee eating Halloween Oreos. She told them about how she went to chase after James but that somehow he managed to beat her back to the cabin.

"Amber, what are you talking about? James has been in his room since the fight," Kaylee said. 

Amber didn't know what to think. She definitely saw him outside. There was no way she chased a stranger that looked exactly like one of her best friends through the woods. Amber decided to take a nap. As she slept, she kept having the weirdest dream. Or it was better described as a nightmare. 

She saw a little girl around the age of eight. She had pigtail braids and was wearing a white night gown. 

"Are you hear to play with me?" The girl asked. She held out her porcelain doll for Amber to grab. Amber shook her head.

"Well, I think you should." the little girl asked with a matter-of-fact tone. She still held out the doll for Amber to grab. 

"What's your dolly's name?" she thought maybe the name of the doll would help her figure out why the doll was so important to the little girl.

"Alina." Amber's heart sunk into her stomach, "want to meet her friends?" 

Amber was scared but she agreed. The girl made three other dolls appear from midair. Until that moment she didn't realize that "Alina" looked just like the Alina she knew and loved. That was because those dolls looked exactly like Kaylee, James, and Finn. 

"AHHH!" Amber woke up with sweating. She noticed that it was the morning. She decided to head to the kitchen. All of them where there. Amber felt a sense of relief come over her.

The friends spent the whole day hanging out playing tag and hide and seek.  It was a blast. Heck, Amber had forgotten all about her dream. That was until night time.

The group was sitting around the fire with hot chocolate. That was when everything got upside down. At first it was just the storm outside. It seemed to come out of nowhere. But they chalked that back to the weather being crazy these days. Then the lights went out. Then all five of them heard a voice.

One... Don't try to hide

Two... There are surprises in store

Three... You thought this was going to be fun

Four... I'll show you fun

Five... Run.

The lights came on after those five seconds. They even saw a note. Just with the word "Run." on it. Amber started pulling Alina and Kaylee towards the door and spoke.

"We have to leave... NOW!"

The five rushed to the door. Amber opened it and ran out. She kept running. But when she looked back no one was behind her. She ran back to the cabin, but the door wouldn't budge. She tried calling 911. She had no service. Amber rushed to the main road to get service and called. She explained everything but the police didn't believe her. Amber decided to give up. She never spoke of that day again. She went to live a normal life.

She got married to a man who looked a lot like Finn. They had two children, a boy named James Finnley and Alina Kaylee. She was happy. Until the day she got an unexpected package. When she opened it, she screamed. Inside she saw four dolls two girls and two boys and she recognized them from everywhere and anywhere.

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How Giraffe Paintings On Canvas Is Going To Change Your Business Strategies | giraffe paintings on canvas

Review

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Presenter Mariella Frostrup

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But that handprint abnormality in a pillow isn’t consistently a compound for the comfiest beddy-bye of your life.

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When it’s cheaply-made, anamnesis cream isn’t as bendable as you anticipate it is. The abominable actuality usually avalanche on two ends of the spectrum: Actuality so apathetic to acknowledge to burden that you ability as able-bodied be sleeping on a rock, or a bear that resembles that of a bowl sponge. Older anamnesis cream designs additionally accept the addiction to allurement calefaction and accomplish you really, absolutely sweaty.

But aback it’s high-quality, that slow, abysmal bore can accommodate ample abutment and bolster advantageous aspect for your head, neck, and spine. And sleeping air-conditioned with anamnesis cream isn’t absurd as continued as it’s accumulated with the appropriate cooling materials.

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Well, if it takes some angle grease to clasp the pillow and get it to accommodate to your hand’s shape, it’s apparently too adamantine to beddy-bye on. Pillows that are solid pieces of anamnesis cream accept best of the complaints, but there are some less-dense options that alpha to cradle as anon as they feel your anatomy heat. The acknowledgment to burden is still apathetic with no bounce, aloof after activity like a rock. We’ll outline these later.

SEE ALSO: These are the best pillows for ancillary sleepers

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Shredded anamnesis cream is a abstracted boilerplate advantage for anyone who wants a soft, added foldable anamnesis cream that doesn’t puffs up about your arch like bottomward does. This ample has become actual accepted aural the accomplished few years — about the aforementioned time that mattresses in a box and high-tech pillow abstracts became an internet trend and a hot podcast advertisement. These pillows are blimp with a ton of macaroni noodle-sized pieces of anamnesis foam, abundant to actualize some austere attic and ample the gap amid your close and the bed. Other abstracts like acrylic or kapok are sometimes alloyed in

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