#THE FREAKIN PARADE OF PEOPLE TRYING TO STOP THIS MAN

[thatoneluckybee]

Hell hath no fury like the Pastel King scorned

#THIS IS SENDING ME #THE FREAKIN PARADE OF PEOPLE TRYING TO STOP THIS MAN #cpc #cursed princess club #fambles

[bobby-winters]

Subterranean: Part 2

PART 2

More cautiously this time, Vin ventured,  “Dude, come on, everyone’s been dumped--”

“You didn’t even care.” Hector got in Vin’s face. “She was--” The anguish briefly broke through his anger. “Man, I… I needed you. You weren’t around.”

Hector softened, expecting Vin to do the same. Instead, it seemed he had struck a nerve.

“What are you talking about? I’ve hardly left your side since it went down. I gave you my freakin’ oranges after dinner like three weeks in a row. Oranges! Who knows how long those will last? You know I like the oranges…”

Hector listened, stunned into silence. He wasn’t sure Vin had ever really snapped like that before. Nor had Vin ever really disagreed with him before.

Vin went on, “I mean, what do you want me to do? Shouldn’t I be trying to help you move on? At what point am I enabling your pity parade?”

“Not yet,” Hector sulked. “I was a wreck--”

“I know.”

“Are you serious? Some friend. This is what I’m talking about, why can’t you just--”

“No, Hector, come on,  I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how did you mean it?”

“I meant that I was there. I was there for you, I always have been, and I don’t think you’ve ever really--”

“Shut up, Vin.” The worst part of Vin’s little rebellion was that he was making sense.

Vin’s face flushed with indignation in the dim light. “Screw you, man! That’s not fair. That’s not fair at all. To me or to her. You’re acting like she cheated on you or she died. But from what I can tell, only one of you is handling the breakup badly.”

He was right. “I said stop.”

“Now you’re coming at me because your ego’s been bruised--”

“Then go, Vin! Fuck off back home to your oranges. Why did you even agree to come with me? You never have fun, you just trail behind, bitching and waiting for something to jump out at you.”

The two stood only inches apart. Hector broke away to search his pack for a lighter.

“You think about that question and then you tell me why I keep coming back. I was a good friend to you--I really tried to be. If you want to stay angry out here all by yourself then fine. I will go home. Don’t fall in the fucking Channel.” Vin shoved Hector and backed away with sadness in his green eyes, now a strange and muddy brown in the orange glimmer of the fungus-covered walls.

Hector stood still, breathing heavily, watching him go. He couldn’t scream or throw something because Vin would hear the echoes--and he would not let Vin know how angry he’d made him--so he sparked his flint and steel and lit up his torch once again. He resumed his course down the tunnel, slower this time, less sure in his stride. The temptation to kick that puffball mushroom into oblivion was almost too strong, but decidedly not worth risking any of possible effects of the spore cloud inside.

Maybe he had been unfair with Vin. But as his best friend, Vin should know that he still couldn’t deal with any mention of Willow. He didn’t know when he’d be able to. If I ever see her again, it will be too soon, he thought. Truth be told, he didn’t know where he was going, just that he had to get away from everything. From all the people.

Living in North Camp was like trying to stay on top of a spinning water wheel. More often than not, he felt like he was working from the moment he opened his eyes in the morning to the moment his head touched his pillow at night. Hector was a clerk at the village pantry, and it was his job to inventory their food supplies. There were worse gigs. But that fact didn’t make counting and recounting all kinds of fungi and crickets for eight hours a day any less painful.

Feeling a cool breeze, he looked up to see a light pass the opening of the tunnel--an opening! He was right. This had to be an access tunnel to the Channel, and the light meant that a boat was nearby. He and Vin had followed the tunnel in what he presumed to be the direction of the Channel, but if he had turned down any of the many other offshoots or intersections, he could have ended up anywhere. That was why people generally weren’t allowed to traverse the tunnels without an experienced Scout. Too many had wandered off and never found their way back.

Finally reaching the end of the passage, Hector stepped out onto a metal grate and inhaled deeply, struck by the crossbreeze--the closest thing to fresh air and surely the strongest wind he had ever experienced. The platform jutted out of the wall about three quarters of the way up. Hector walked to the edge and put his hands on the railing. His gaze swept across the vast expanse of the enormous circular tunnel. The Channel. It had to be a quarter of a mile in diameter and filled about halfway with dark, churning water, moving swiftly downstream. Peering into it made him uneasy--the glow of the fungi clinging to the walls glittered on the water, causing the illusion of movement beneath the surface. There was no telling what lurked in the blackness, and there was surely no return from its depths. Leaning over the edge, staring down, Hector recalled the tall tales he had heard of the Channel since he was small--of things that had washed up, of people who had washed away. He and his friends would laugh at the Scavengers’ tales, but he couldn’t deny that the look in their eyes was harder to shake from his mind than their tall tales ever were. And now, standing above the black river with only a rusted grate between him and a long way down, the water lay in wait below like a mass of writhing bodies extending infinitely into the shadows in both directions. He shivered, shook his head, and backed away from the edge, attempting to focus on his achievement--after a lifetime of stories, he now finally saw the Channel for himself.

It was cool here, and a scavenger boat bobbed lazily upstream, its light pointed into the water. The echoes of the Scavengers’ speech sounded strange, like some long forgotten secret language. Only they were allowed in the Channel because, somewhere along its endless span, there was access to the Surface--allegedly. It was the responsibility of the Scavengers to deal with anything that washed down into the Channel. They would salvage it for use or trade, leave it in the water, or kill it if necessary. So they said. Forget the Exterminators, these guys had some great stories.

One would expect the Channel to be deafening given the ease with which the smallest sounds echoed in the tunnels, but the water was deceptively quick for how quiet it was. Again approaching the metal railing, Hector strained to listen to the men on the boat, who had gotten louder. One shoved another to the ground, and two more forced the fallen man’s arms behind his back. Then they tore the sack off his head.

One of them got down on one knee so he was at eye level with the restrained man. Whatever he said was too quiet to hear. They heaved the man off the ground and stood him up at the side of the boat, facing the stone brick wall. The first man brought out a massive oar, and the clunk of wood on bone resounded all the way to Hector’s ears, succeeded only by a splash and silence.

Hector stepped backwards into the tunnel. But an abrupt scuffle behind him caused him to leap forward, banging his shin against the railing of the platform. The echo reverberated throughout the tunnel like the bellow of a grandfather clock. His stomach fell. Then, everything went white. The blinding searchlight swiveled directly into his eyes. He turned away to see Vin squinting into the blaze. He must have been the scuffling noise. But Hector didn’t have much time to process his feelings on the matter.

“DON’T MOVE,” someone roared from the boat.

#subterranean #fiction #short story #underground #spooky #sewer #halloween #spooky season #dystopian #far future

[kaalamarii]

Karaoke Headcanons

I left out Barbatos, Simeon, and Luke but I’m pretty proud of this ridiculousness.

Hope you like it, anon!

Lucifer

Absolutely scoffs at the thought of karaoke

Cause he’s a bitch

Who in all the worlds would ever find this fun???

It’s loud

All these songs are abhorrent

ugh , these flashing lights are too much

But these drinks are pretty good.

Like, really good.

Lucifer has a lot of them.

Basically gets white girl wasted.

“I cAn SiNg WaY bEtTeR tHaN yOu CaN, sAtAn...”

MC and his brothers finally talk him into going up

Slurs his way through Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York”

Has a pretty good voice actually. It’s kind of deep and clear (despite the drunkenness) and fits the Sinatra sound perfectly.

He stays up for several songs and tries to fight his brothers when they try to pull him off stage

MC and Diavolo finally convince him to let someone else have a turn

And to get some water.

Wakes up the next morning with a hoarse voice and no recollection of the night until he sees the videos his brothers took

Probably bans them from their phones until he has a chance to delete them all

(he doesn’t know about the ones Diavolo has though)

Mammon

Totally up for karaoke

“Gotta show off my talent”

Steals the bartender’s tips when nobody’s looking

Also steals the bathroom attendant’s tips

And other random stuff he finds

Takes a million photos and videos of drunk Lucifer

Chooses the common songs

“Don’t Stop Believing”

“Living on A Prayer”

“Sweet Caroline” (with his brothers and MC doing the BA-BA-BA!, of course)

Is a decent singer and actually puts on a pretty good show

Probably gets kicked out when they find out he’s the one stealing everybody’s tips

Lucifer makes him go back the next night to work to pay back what he stole

Leviathan

Isn’t super keen on going but is slightly interested because he saw karaoke on an anime once

MC talks him into going

Takes a handheld game with him and plays almost the entire time

Refuses to sing until MC calls him up to do a duet with them

And actually finds it kind of fun

Excited to find a couple of anime theme songs and a bunch of kpop

Gets jealous and sad sacky if MC does duets with anyone else

Poor baby is not a good singer

But he’s trying!

Posts commentary on the night:

“Lolololol lucifer is super drunk”; “Mammon just spilled drinks all over the place. Loser.”; “Satan just totally threw up in here rofl”

Gets angry when a drunken Mammon heckles him and refuses to do anymore songs

Pouts the rest of the night

Secretly downloads the songs he sang with MC and puts on one man shows for Henry in his bedroom

Satan

Also thinks karaoke is dumb

But Lucifer is annoyed with it so Satan’s down to go

Asks MC and Solomon what the most annoying songs to sing are so he can drive Lucifer crazy

“500 Miles”

“MmmBop”

“Achy Breaky Heart”

A very awkward rendition of “My Heart Will Go On”

It’s ridiculous because he doesn’t knows the words

But he’s so determined to give Lucifer a hard time

The drunker he and Lucifer gets the more funny it is to everyone else

They actually end up doing a really sloppy duet of “Bohemian Rhapsody” that astounds everyone

Sings out of tune, but isn’t the worst singer of the bunch

Mammon gets him to sing “Happy” by Pharrell Williams

Satan hates it.

Never admits that he had a lot of fun that night and actually found some new songs that he likes

Gets Achy Breaky Heart stuck in his head for weeks after much to his chagrin

(congratulations, you played yourself)

Asmodeus

Asmo LOVES karaoke

Has a great voice and great stage presence

Gets super dressed up, hair, makeup, heels

Asmo’s a freakin’ star

Sings a lot of cheesy love songs and “dedicates” them to MC

Also sings a lot of sexually charged songs like

“Cherry Pie” by Warrant

And “Too Sexy” by Right Said Fred

Definitely does “Like A Virgin” and “I Touch Myself”

You know he and MC do a “All The Single Ladies” with complete dance moves

Flirts with the bartender to get free drinks

Takes selfies and live streams on Devilgram all night

Beelzebub

Is interested as soon as MC tells him about greasy bar food

But also thinks it sounds like it could be fun

Just wants to eat and be around his favorite people

Likes all kinds of music

Isn’t a big singer but can carry a simple tune

Sings a bunch of random songs that everyone else picks for him

“If You Like Pina Coladas”

“Pour Some Sugar On Me”

Mostly does duets with the others though

MC and Solomon are impressed with how much alcohol Beel can put away before he’s even slightly tipsy

He doesn’t drink or sing much because he’s more interested in the food and watching the cute little shows his friends and family put on

Gets upset when the kitchen runs out of food and throws a bit of tantrum until MC steps in and promises to get him more food once they head home

Belphegor

Doesn’t really want to go but Beel wants him to and so does MC

So he goes

You know this bitch sleeps most of the night

Could be a good singer but doesn’t care enough

Doesn’t really go up on stage to sing unless it’s with Beel or MC

By himself he does a couple of songs, probably something slow like “Hey Jude”

Or something emo like “The Black Parade”

Doesn’t drink, it makes him too sleepy

Rolls his eyes at everything Lucifer and Diavolo say or do

Diavolo

It was Diavolo’s idea to take everyone to karaoke!

Solomon told him about it and he was so excited!

Friends! Music! Drinks! Diavolo couldn’t think of anything more fun!

He asks Solomon and MC’s advice for songs to sing and they pick a few for him

Of course, they troll him

“You should definitely check out this song called ‘Friday’ by Rebecca Black”

“Yeah, it’s really popular in the human world.”

“Also, you and Lucifer should do a duet of Summer Nights from Grease.”

“Make sure Lucifer does Sandy’s parts”

MC makes him a playlist on his D.D.D. and this cutie pie memorizes every song on there.

Makes Barbatos practice with him ahead of time.

Is a great singer, of course

And a very good entertainer.

Wants to stay all night, still singing as the bar is closing up and everyone else is falling asleep.

“We’ll be back next weekend!” (groans from everyone else)

Makes everyone go every weekend for a month and a half until Barbatos has to talk him out of it.

Everyone pulls cash together to get Diavolo a karaoke machine.

It’s one of his prized possessions and they all agree to a karaoke night once every two months.

Diavolo uses it constantly much to Barbatos’ dismay.

MC continues to add songs to his playlist.

Solomon and MC

Sing “What’s New Pussycat” 21 times, with “It’s Not Unusual” after the seventh “What’s New Pussycat”

Masterlist  

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me fanfiction #obey me diavolo #obey me solomon #requests #tag urself i'm belphie

[mythical-song-wolf]

MCSM: My Warrior’s Tale 1

Note: Basically this is my personal canon of Minecraft: Story Mode with my own variation of Jesse which is just my main OC edited into the context of MCSM because I’m uncreative

I made all the parts for episode 1 at night when I was Tired and Fixating Part 2

Nothing built can last forever, Jesse knows this intimately. And every legend, no matter how great, fades with time, whittled down by years and years till nothing is left but half-truths and myths. In essence, lies. And yet, in all known universes between here to the Far Lands, the legend of the Order of the Stone persists on unchanged.

The Order of the Stone themselves are quite young, barely in their forties by now. But the legends of amazing heroes, all types of builders and people, coming together to slay a mighty beast known as the Ender Dragon has always had its hold on the worlds.

The Order of the Stone was the name of a far off legend and fairy tale, now it's the name of a group of heroes who turned fiction into reality.

Only truly troubled lands have a need for heroes, and it seems that this one was of them. Lucky are they to have four heroes to have made their lies and myths into truths.

Gabriel the Warrior, Ellegaard the Redstone Engineer, Magnus the Rogue, and Soren the Architect.

They defeated the dragon and finally gave everyone a solid name and face to the legends of old, cementing their names in history.

“Would you rather fight a hundred chicken-sized zombies or ten zombie-sized chickens?” Olivia curiously asks.

“Hm, I guess the zombie-sized chickens? Because seeing one that big would be pretty interesting. Fighting wise? I’d say fifty-fifty on that. The chickens won’t try to hurt me but the zombies would, but a startled chicken is a pecky chicken. Really depends on the mood, really,” Jesse replies as she flips to the next page of her book, while Olivia sets up a nightlight for Reuben, “He’s coming with us.”

“Really?”

She puts down her book to look at Olivia, “Of course he is, why wouldn’t he?”

“Okay, okay, I’m not saying that he shouldn’t come but don’t you think it’s a little weird that you take him with you everywhere you go?”

“Reuben’s my best friend along with you and Axel. I’m not leaving him behind.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it—”

“I know, I know, you don’t want to give everyone another reason to call us losers. But when we win this year’s building competition, they’ll have less reason to do that!”

“Okay, that’s fair.”

Axel pops out from the ladder and startles the three of them, earning a reflexive punch from Jesse.

“Ow,” Axel groans, taking off the mask and rubbing his nose.

“Not funny Axel!” Olivia chides, while Reuben tries to tackle him.

“I could tell,” He grumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose, “That was some punch Jesse, where’d you learn to hit so hard?”

Lie.

“Thanks, I’ve been working on my combat skill lately,” She brushes off with a smile, “Did you bring the fireworks?”

“Of course I did, I also brought something for the little guy.” He brings out an Ender Dragon costume and puts in on Reuben, who happily parades around the room in it.

A few moments later Olivia and Axel head down while Jesse grabs a few more things. Shears, Flint & Steel, and double checks the durability on her stone sword.

Really should upgrade this to an iron one, I have a feeling I’ll need it for some reason... Huh... Warrior’s intuition?... I’ll bring some iron just in case.

~~~~~

They decide on building an Enderman along with their firework show.

(“Get it? Enderman at Endercon with an Ender Dragon pig.”

“I regret suggesting an Enderman.”

“A Creeper would’ve been cooler.”)

Their team name is the Order of the Pigs, and they get onto prepping... Until Axel and Olivia get side-tracked by what the Ocelots are doing.

“C’mon guys don’t get distracted by what the other teams are doing and focus on our own build.”

“They have a freakin’ beacon!” Axel repeats, more exasperated than the last time.

“They’re not just making a beacon. They’re making a rainbow beacon!” Olivia adds, panic lacing her tone at its edge.

“Relax, we’ve got this,” Jesse tries to assure.

“Who are we kidding?” Olivia retorts anxiously, “We’ve got nothing.”

“We have a plan, each other, annnd a cute mascot. Now let’s stop ogling the competition and get to work!” She announces with a clap as she turns to her friends.

Gill laughs at them as him and Maya approach Aiden, “Look, it’s the Order of the Losers. Again.”

“Don’t mind us,” Jesse tries but her voice is drowned out by Olivia’s.

“We were just looking.”

Aiden, that snarky bastard, replies with an arrogant surety of the Ocelots’ victory that she brushes off, but then he has the gall to call Reuben food.

“Shut up asshole.”

“What was that?” Aiden says, cold and serious in an attempt to be threatening. If he was a bit more unhinged it would maybe scare her, but that he is not.

“She—”

“I said, ‘shut up asshole’ or is your hearing as defective as your brain?”

“Why you—”

“Stop wasting time you three,” Lukas orders, “We’ve got work to do.”

“Hey guys,” Petra greets the two groups, “How’s the build going?”

“Only time will tell, but we’re optimistic,” Axel replies, with Olivia and Jesse nodding along.

Lukas smiles and approaches Petra (and in turn the Order of the Pigs), “Hey Petra, I forgot to thank you for that Nether Star.”

“Hey, no problem Lukas.”

Jesse and her team, with a lot of prodding from their leader, continue getting ready as Lukas and Petra banter for a bit before she leaves.

“Hey,” Lukas calls out, causing them to turn to him, “No hard feelings guys. If you’re cool with Petra, you’re cool with us.”

Jesse smiles, “Of course, let’s focus on making this about how awesome our builds will be, yeah?”

“Yeah, and may the best team win.”

Lukas and his team turn and walk away before Jesse replies with, “Be careful what you wish for.” The Ocelots pause for a moment, before Lukas smirks and chuckles but continues on.

~~~~~

They spend the whole afternoon making the Enderman alongside the rest of the builders with their own structures. Aiden tries to get a rise out of them again but Jesse pays him no mind so the others don’t either.

When they finish their build and the fireworks go off, all eyes are on them in awe. For once, everyone’s looking at her and her friends like they’re actually capable of something.

Aiden, in his fit of petty jealousy, breaks a block that was blocking off some lava which sets Reuben’s costume on fire and risking their build.

A switch flicks and Jesse’s off the Enderman and running after him while shouting some orders to her team.

“You two block off the lava while I get Reuben!”

“You got it Jesse! We’ll meet up with you at Endercon!”

If Aiden is suddenly knocked down and has a broken nose after she passes by, she won’t say it wasn’t her.

#mcsm #fanfic #fanfiction #minecraft story mode #my flavour of jesse #canon divergence where it matters #and canon compliant where it also matters #my canon

[mattzerella-sticks]

Tales from the Future - Batflash Week Day 1: Wards & Didn’t Know They Were Dating

After a tough mission in the future with the Titans, Damian and Wally discovered something very shocking. They couldn't keep this information to themselves, though, and decided to tell their families - save the very people the information is about.

Will the group of Robins and Speedsters stay focused enough to come up with a plan or realize that the future isn't as bad as they're fearing?

Damian watches Jason casually stroll in through the window, one leg swinging in after the other with practiced aloofness. “Tch,” he scoffs, “nice of you to show up.”

“Buzz off, Bat Brat,” Jason says, squeezing in between Dick and Tim on the couch. “I was busy .”

“Who was busy?” Dick asks.

“Me, I just said -”

“No, who was busy,” he clarifies, leering at Jason. Groans erupt from across the room, Damian hiding his face in his hand. Duke huffs from the armchair, mirroring him.

A smack echoes, Dick cursing. Tim glares from the other side of the couch, frowning. “None of us want to hear about Jason’s sex life.”

“I don’t know,” Dick says, rubbing his head, “I could use a good laugh or two.”

Sighing, Wally steps behind Damian. He turns to face his friend. Wally looks unimpressed, a similar expression to the other speedster guests who joined them this afternoon. The older Wally sits on the other armchair across from Duke, closer to Dick. Bart vibrates around the room, not really staying in one place for too long. “Is this how every meeting starts?”

“No,” Damian admits, “sometimes we do more than slap the other.”

Wally’s eyebrow climbs further up his forehead.

“Okay, everyone, settle down,” Damian calls. His brothers quiet immediately, giving him their attention. “We didn’t assemble to tease Jason.”

“But it’s such a fun team building activity.”

“Fuck you, Bubble Butt.”

“How dare you -”

Another clap silences them again. “Do I have to separate you two?” Damian asks, glancing between the older Robins. They dart their gazes towards one another for a brief second before relenting, a white flag waving from their stations. “Good,” he continues, running his hands across his chest. Smooths invisible wrinkles on his charcoal black button-down. “Now we’ve gathered you all for a reason.”

“A very important reason,” Wally preempts Bart, the latter’s jaw hanging. Offhand comment still cocked in his chamber, pulled from the trigger. “That has to deal with Barry and Bruce.”

Their family sobers immediately at the mention of their respective elders. “Really?” Dick asks, “What is it?”

Damian and Wally glance between themselves, silently discussing who would start. Taking too long, Jason breaks their debate. “Someone just freakin ’ start already!”

Taking point, Damian clears his throat. “We’d finished a mission with Jon, saying our goodbyes to him and his team in the future…”

A mission to the future seemed too early for Damian’s ragtag team of Titans. He could barely get them to stop fighting each other to handle villains of this century, there was no telling how they’d fare against criminals with advanced and alien tech. Yet Jon came for him at an inopportune time. Bubble bursting in during a team meeting, popping out with his friend , Saturn Girl.

“Damian,” he panted, ash smudged across his face, “I need you.”

That was all the convincing needed. Except the moment he set a foot into the time bubble a gust of wind sped past and snatched his wrist.

Wally wouldn’t let Damian leave them, the others gathering round demanding to be brought along. Damian scowled, trying to figure out a quick enough argument to shut the idea down without offending them. Because he promised them he’d be kinder . Kindness cost him dearly, since Saturn Girl gave them a free pass by saying, “Of course you can come along.”

Carried into the time bubble by the incoming stampede, they squished together to travel to the 31st century. He squirmed between Crush and Roundhouse, annoying Wally given the timed puffs of air he breathed through his nose.

“You were tickling my chin,” Wally scoffs, “And it was taking too slow.”

“We were advancing 1000 years in a blink of an eye!” Damian cries, “There’s nothing slow about it -”

“Guys, focus!” Wally says, “What does this have to do with Barry and Bruce?”

“Well, when we got there it turns out this villain had taken control of their head quarters,” Wally says, ignoring his cousin.

A green, floating eyeball paraded around the Legion of Superheroes’ Clubhouse. Members with glowing, verdant gazes stalked the halls like zombies. Unfortunately they proved much more resourceful and smarter than their appearance.

An accidental sneeze from Roundhouse alerted their presence, and heroes descended upon them. Damian found himself holding off a wolf-man with his staff caught in his sharp jaws. When he flipped the beast off him, Damian saw the rest of his team separated and battling in their own small groups. And the eye, watching them. Waiting.

“Its owner entered with fanfare,” Damian tells them, “using this boy who shoots lightning for special effects.”

Tim yawns, “Why does this matter?”

“It does! Now, she entered…”

The Emerald Empress immediately captured Roundhouse with her Eye, trapping him in her spell like all the others. Saturn Girl shouted for them to retreat, falling back towards a secret tunnel. Except on their way Djinn snagged her ankle on a waiting hand, phased through the floor.

“Go!” she says, “I’ll be fine!”

Damian froze, only Wally’s fast reflexes pulling him out from falling debris dropped by a gravity manipulator. They left Djinn and Crush - the latter shoving past Emiko to help the other girl. Behind the shut door of the secret entrance Damian saw emerald light flash and his heart sank.

“This is why you should have stayed in the past,” Damian growled once they snuck far enough away, “Not even five minutes and we’ve already lost half the team!”

“We’ll save them, Damian,” Wally said, a steady calm to the raging storm brewing inside the smaller boy, “We always will.”

“Don’t see how,” Emiko added, the first few words since travelling to the future. “Her Eye looks kitted to the max. Coupled with the heroes she already has under her thrall and the ones we gave her… I don’t think we have much of a chance.”

Damian huffed, “Especially once she combines her Eye with Djinn’s magic -”

“Djinn?” Bart asks, “Who’s Djinn? You keep mentioning her.”

Flushing, Damian glances at the grandfather clock ticking ceaselessly in the lounge. “She’s a team member of ours… very powerful magic, one of our strongest assets, and -”

“Damian’s got a total crush on her.”

He whips his head to glare at Wally, the other boy standing nonplussed. Instead of a smirk, a harsh line cuts across his face. As if his words were more of a tiresome fact than rope to hang him with.

His brothers gladly string him up. Dick coos, “Aw, you’ve got a crush Damian?”

“Thank God,” Jason says, “Maybe you’ll finally get that stick out of your ass.”

“Does this mean we have to chaperone you?” Tim asks, “Because I don’t want to double date…”

Duke leans forward in his seat. “Are we going to ever meet her?”

Damian waves their comments away. “This isn’t about me. And for the record I don’t have a crush.”

Jason scoffs, “Sounds like what someone with a crush would say.”

“I don’t!”

“Jason knows what’s he’s talking ‘bout,” Dick nods, clapping Jason’s shoulder, “Guy’s king of unrequited crushes.”

He brushes Dick’s hand off him. “Fuck you, at least half of them were requited.”

“Sure, and I made it to fifth base with Harley Quinn…”

Bart zips over to Tim, whispering. “What’s fifth base?”

Tim shakes his head. “You don’t want to know.”

Wally pinches his brow, reclining into his armchair. “Can we please get back to the story?”

“I would be glad to,” Damian says, “if people would let me.” Given the floor once more, Damian carries on where he left off.

They regrouped. Jon led them in a motivational speech, every word and gesture oozing small town sensibility. His father would be proud. After he rallied the troops, Saturn Girl presented schematics of the Legion headquarters. Damian and Emiko poured over the holograms, planning their assault. Satisfied with a course of action, the group returned.

Although their plans strayed early on from the course they laid. A few heroes that Saturn Girl thought were off-planet appeared and forced them to separate. Damian and Jon fled down one hallway, followed by a barrage of shrapnel. Cosmic Boy, as Jon told him, barreled their way with a Lantern and an orange lizard-creature at his side.

Jon handled the flankers, Damian keeping Cosmic Boy occupied. With power over metal most of his arsenal was useless, and he dropped it so he wouldn’t be controlled. Instead Damian relied on his training, utilizing the environment to his advantage. Waiting for Leading Cosmic Boy into a narrow hallway, snaking around the metal he pulled. Pushing his reflexes to the limit, Damian dodged each swipe until Cosmic Boy trapped himself in a cage of wires and panels.

Unable to move, Damian rabbit punched him.

Jon dumped his attackers to the floor when Damian returned, and together they advanced to the main room. Regrouping with the others, they stormed where Emerald Empress hid.

More heroes awaited them, guarding their queen while she mixed the emerald energy from her eye with Djinn’s unique purple magic. This timeline’s Doctor Fate underneath like a scale, helping to balance the power.

Knocking away a ball boy into identical triplets, Damian noticed the colors mixing together hideously. Terribly foreboding, a chill shot through his spine. “We need to stop this!” he yelled, tumbling underneath lightning.

Wally wrapped up a talking raccoon and hurled him towards a green-skinned boy. Being the only one who heard Damian, he tracked his gaze to the makeshift throne. “Okay,” he said, “let’s stop this.”

“So?” Bart asks, “How’d you stop it?”

Damian pouts, crossing his arms. “He threw me.”

“What?”

“He threw men,” he repeats, “at the Emerald Empress.”

Wally nods, smiling. “While I dealt with Doctor Fate.”

With those two erased from the equation, it was only Djinn and the Emerald Eye. Their auras swirled in battle for dominance. When it looked like the green would overtake Djinn’s purple, her eyes flashed brilliantly violet and swept over the encroaching light like a tidal wave. Purple energy coursed through the Emerald Eye until it short-circuited and turned grey. It fell to the floor, powerless.

Spell broken, the others woke from their trances. Some moaned with pain while others blinked in confusion. Their friends, Crush and Roundhouse, staggered away from Saturn Girl and Jon while returning to their senses.

“You beat the villain, big whoop,” Jason says, “still don’t see what this has to do with Bats and Flash.”

Wally rolls his eyes. “After the fight, when we were saying our goodbyes to the team…”

Roundhouse bounced between Jon, Saturn Girl, Wally and him, drawing the Legionnaires attention towards him. Asked questions with blazing speed that surpassed their speedster. Jon led him away from the group, Saturn Girl at his side while explaining a few of the concepts to sate his curiosity.

Leaving Wally and Damian open for an ambush.

“Excuse me?” someone cleared their throat behind them, “I… I can’t believe you’re actually here…”

Startled, Damian brandished a bat-a-rang immediately and spun on his heel to attack. Before he could launch his weapon, though, Wally gripped his wrist in an iron vice. “Damian, no ,” he scolded, nodding towards the frightened teenager in front of them, “ friend .”

He glared at the speedster, unrelenting in his combat stance. Wally didn’t back down either.

The newcomer looked between them, nerves dying as each second ticked on by. “Uh… is he gonna put that down?”

“Yes.” “ No .”

Wally sighed, lowering Damian’s hand. “Sorry, we’re a little on edge…”

“Yeah, yeah,” the teen said, “Emerald Empress took a lot out of all of us… your team did a great job.”

Nodding, Damian used his silence to study the newcomer. Recognizes him from their previous battle as the one with lightning powers. If he hadn’t witnessed his powers in action the costume would telegraph immediately what he can do. Lightning bolts mean two things - and he didn’t rush away like any other speedster would when presented with danger. So that meant the only other option was electricity manipulation. “Who are you?”

“Oh, right, uh -” the teen chuckles awkwardly, scratching his head, “the name’s Garth - or, uh Lightning Lad.”

“Cool. I’m Wally, Kid Flash. And my trigger happy friend is Damian -”

“ Robin .”

“...I was getting to that.”

Garth beamed, “I know, I know! I… kinda know a lot about you, actually…”

A chill raced down Damian’s spine at the giddiness crackling across Garth’s face. Being trapped with a fanboy is not what he needed. Wally tensed as well, darting his gaze over in silent communication. However a different emotion flickered behind his eyes, telling Damian to suck up whatever outburst bubbled up inside him. He snapped his jaw shut. Agreeing to play nice only because he felt too tired to cause a scene.

“Hey,” Wally started, “it’s always great to meet a fan -”

“A huge fan,” Garth cut him off, “Like, you’re such an inspiration. I remember growing up, whenever a dust storm tore through our settlement and we’d be locked inside for days , my brother, sister and I would read up on all your classic adventures.” He turns to Damian, “Both of yours.”

“I’m surprised you had time to even read about his ,” Damian smirked, “ my adventures - that have passed and are yet to come - should have been enough entertainment.”

“...Actually you’re featured in a lot of Flash’s stories.”

Damian bristled again, not caring for how Wally’s chest puffed up. Only to deflate slightly, with a sigh. “Looks like I’ll never get rid of you,” he mumbled.

Scoffing, he rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky I still hang around you after all these years…”

Garth chuckled. “Oh, man… the banter is just like they said it’d be.” He bounced where he stood, sparks jumping off his shoulders. “I really can’t believe… you two. Some of the best teen heroes. You are part of the reason I am who I am today. I’ve met Superman and Jon already… all I’ll need for my life to be complete is to meet the originals and I’ll be set!”

“Originals?” Damian asked, “What are you talking about?”

“You know, your mentors. Batman and Flash ,” Garth continued, eyes glowing blue, “Those guys, I mean… Growing up where I’m from there were some pretty strict rules on how to live your life. If you didn’t fit the mold you’d be ignored and cast aside. My brother Mekt… being born without a twin… Anyway, Batman and Flash were in your face with who they were. When they came out they didn’t bat an eye -”

“What?”

Damian and Wally leaned forward with vested interest. “What?” Wally said again, “What do you mean, ‘came out’?”

“When they publicly announced they were dating?” Garth answered, “Well… it’s not like they had a choice, what with that picture in the Gotham Gazette but - hey, they didn’t deny it! That’s…” He stilled, finally noticing the expressions of the others. “You didn’t know? But aren’t you from… wait, what year are you from?”

“2019.”

Garth paled, stepping away from them. “Oh… oh frack . I - I shouldn’t have said that, should I?”

It didn’t matter. The future dropped upon them like a bombshell. Damian’s vision whited briefly until he blinked into awareness once more. Wally’s grip on his wrist tightened, reminding him that throughout the conversation he latched on like a vice. Wrenching free, the bat-a-rang fell with a clatter.

“Please,” Garth whispered urgently, “forget I said anything. Brainy’s all about not interfering with the timeline. If he finds out I outed them he’ll kill me… and that’d really hurt my chances with the guy.” He looked between them. “You don’t have any questions, do you?”

There were a million. Except Jon returned, telling them how it was time the Titans returned to the present. Herded into the time bubble, Wally and Damian didn’t say another word about what they learned. Waiting for the perfect moment to discuss it.

With others who deserved to know.

They watch their family process the information, breath held, waiting for a response.

Bart reacts first. He snorts, drawing all focus to him. A single laugh blossoms into a full-body heave until he tips over the couch, sprawling across Damian’s brothers’ laps. “That’s really funny guys,” he wheezes, “Seriously… amazing.”

Damian scowls. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because it’s not true?”

“We were in the future, Bart,” Wally says, “How can it not be true?”

“Maybe it has to do with the fact that I’m from the future?” he says, “Because I’m Barry and Iris’s grandson . If they somehow didn’t end up together d’you think I’d still be here?”

“Then again,” Tim interrupts, “you are from a timeline that doesn’t exist anymore.”

Bart’s good mood shatters into a million pieces. Pouting, he glares at his friend. “Thanks for reminding me.”

Jason shifts under his heavy weight, rolling Bart off. “So,” he says after the heavy thud , “What are we gonna do?”

“Who says we have to do anything?” Duke says, “It sounds like them getting together is a good thing - hey !” He whacks the pillow thrown at him from its target, his face. Jason, the guilty culprit, looks remorseless. “What was that?”

“You were speaking crazy,” Jason tells him, “How can Bruce dating Barry be any good .”

Dick smirks, folding his arms across his chest. “Wow, Jason. Didn’t know you were a homophobe .”

“Fuck you, it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?”

Jason sinks into the couch, mirroring his brother. “If Bruce really is gay, bi or… queer than… it’ll be another thing we have in common,” he whines, “The more that happens the sadder I get.”

“Wow,” Dick says, voice thick with emotion. He reaches across to squeeze Jason’s shoulder. “I can’t believe… you actually followed through whenever I told you to suck a dick. I’m proud of you.”

Slapping Dick off him, Jason bares his teeth in a growl. “Keep talking and I’ll show you how I beat Dick .”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Wally zooms from his seat and breaks the two apart, hands firm against their chests. “Knock it off you two, we’re getting distracted from the bigger picture… how to make sure this doesn’t happen.”

“You mean you don’t want to be brothers, Wall?”

He rolls his eyes at Dick’s artificially sweet expression. “Batman’s creepy enough without imagining him all domestic with Barry.”

“Or all sex-like ,” Jason adds, making every wrinkle in the room crease with agony.

Damian shakes the image from his mind, switching back onto the topic at hand. “Now we’ll have to be very careful so they won’t find out we’re on to them -”

“Which’ll be hard,” Tim adds, “they’re two of the best detectives in the world.”

“But they’re only two people,” Wally says, stepping closer to Damian, “we’re a team . Trade shifts - always knowing where they are. Making sure they’re not alone together.”

Wally raises a brow at his cousin. “I bet you want to tell Superman or Wonder Woman, too… have an inside operative during Justice League meetings.”

“...That could work.”

Duke stands with a shout, interrupting the planning. “This is crazy! If Bruce and Barry want to be together than why should we get in the way? It seems like the future’s pretty good when they’re a couple. Are we really gonna get in the way of that?”

His outburst brings an unexpected bout of clarity to Damian’s plans, parting the cloudy skies for sunshine to burst through. Reminded of Garth’s casual openness about himself and his reverence to Damian’s father, he winces.

Like dominoes everyone else sobers into quiet reflection. The energy fueling the crazy planning in the room deflates, letting everyone return to their senses. Damian feels the tightness of his bones over hearing the shocking news finally settle, as if coming to terms with the future.

Dick clears his throat, the first to break the silence. “But if they do get together,” he starts, waiting until he’s found every eye in the room before continuing, “... then Jason won’t be special anymore.”

“That’s it !”

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

Bruce adjusts himself on the Batcave’s examination table, eyes fluttering shut as Barry runs careful fingers across his temple. When they stumble over the cut he hisses, a hand darting over to squeeze his.

“Sorry ‘bout that, babe,” Barry says, “that’s one well hidden wound.”

“It’s okay,” he says, “It’s my fault for letting Kite Man get the drop on me.” The mediocre villain swooped in and sliced open his cowl with the tail of his giant kite, catching the Dark Knight in a moment of weakness. If Barry hadn’t been at his side, he would have walked away with much worse.

“I’m surprised he got a few good swings in,” Barry says, dabbing at the cut with some peroxide, “You feeling okay?”

“I’ve… got a lot on my mind.”

Barry pauses, pulling away. Bruce cracks one eye open, frowning at the seriousness weighing on his lover’s shoulders.

“Nothing bad,” he continues, snaking his arms across Barry’s waist to bring him closer. Spreads his legs open so he can fit between them. He nuzzles at his chest, enjoying the frantic heartbeat that is normal for Barry Allen. “I… I’ve been thinking about us and… the future .”

“...Wanna elaborate on that so my mind won’t fill in the blanks?”

Bruce takes a steadying breath, the words rushing from his mouth afterwards. “I want to tell the boys about us.”

An eternity passes in a second, Bruce clinging tight to Barry’s body. Afraid the other man will vibrate free and out of his life. That never happens. Instead the opposite, Barry settles further into the moment. Tips Bruce’s head so he can see the beaming smile on his face.

“What brought this on?”

“I… I just think that we've been really good,” Bruce explains, hating how his nerves easily expose themselves in the tremble of his voice. “And I understood why you wanted to take this slow, in case things don’t work out. It wouldn’t be the first for either of us, to have a relationship fall apart. But everyday you stay by my side and I… I feel different. Better. Happier . And I think the same is true for you. We’re making each other better people. I love you and I love the person you inspire me to be… And I want my family to know.”

Barry offers a wet chuckle, hiding in Bruce’s hair. He kisses the cut he grazed earlier, a few tears trickling into it. Composing himself, Barry straightens in Bruce’s embrace. “I love you, too,” he says, “And if you want to tell your boys then… I want to tell the Flash family, too.”

“Really?”

“We should do it together, actually,” he continues, skin vibrating in excitement, “have some sort of family dinner!”

“They’ll immediately sense something’s up if we do that,” Bruce laughs, “You sure we can’t just call a meeting down here and… rip the band-aid off? In costume?”

Barry rolls his eyes. “Come on, it won’t be so bad. I mean what’s the worst that can happen?”

Bruce readies a response, only the clacking of Alfred’s heels interrupts him. His butler speeds over with anxious haste. “Master Bruce? Barry?”

“Yes Alfred?”

“It’s the boys.”

A headache tickles his head, adding to the pain already camping there. “Which boys.”

“All the boys,” he says, turning to Barry, “even your boys.”

“What?” Barry asks, “What are they doing here?”

“I don’t know, but a fight’s broken out!”

Barry tenses against Bruce. “A fight?”

Bruce, disappointed, sighs while sliding off the table. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure. One moment I was in the kitchen readying dinner and the next I knew there were crashing sounds coming from the parlor. When I got there Duke had a speedster in a headlock, Dick and Wally were fighting, and Jason hung Damian off the chandelier… again .”

Frowning, Bruce fixes his cowl. He looks to Barry, “Looks like family dinner will have to wait.”

Barry shrugs, mirroring him. “I can hope. Besides… that wouldn’t have been very us , would it?” He slips his hand into Bruce’s waiting one, squeezing.

“No it wouldn’t,” Bruce agrees. “Now come on, we have a fight to break up.”

#Batflash #Batman x Flash #Batman/Flash #bruce wayne x barry allen #Bruce Wayne #Barry Allen #Batman #Flash #Robin #Kid Flash #Damian Wayne #Wally West #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Bart Allen #Duke Thomas #Batflash fanfic #Batflash week

[eerythingisshaka]

Will the Bell Ring? Pt. 4

[Erik Killmonger x Black OC]

Word Count 5.8k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Erik has a meeting one morning to discuss the upgrades he has planned for key components of the new model Boeing airplane that is set to begin manufacturing early the following year.  Erik stood at the sink in the master bathroom reciting lines to himself that he had prepared with notes on his phone.

“As you can see, the planes trajectory following take off can be more smoothly….more smoothly...smoother?  Uhh-- SHIT!”

Erik curses to himself as the blade angled in the wrong direction, cutting his jaw.

“You ok in there baby?”  Kimara calls out from the bedroom.  

Erik watches the blood begin to bubble and drip onto his shirt before he could get a tissue to catch it.  

“Fuck!  Yeah...I’m aight.”  Erik calls back.

Kimara is putting on an earring when she walks in to see him.  “Oh damn, Erik. You cut yourself today of all days?.” Kimara reaches for the tissue to survey the damage.  

“Ain’t it some shit?  I gotta be at the office in one hour and I fucking maim myself and stain my fucking shirt.”  

“Ohh, now stop.”  Kimara pats his chin as the blood begins to clot instead of run.  “At least now you have an excuse for the bald spot right around there.”

Erik pins her arms down giving her slight shake.  “What I tell you bout that?”

Kimara cracks up uncontrollably.  “HAHA! About what?!”

Erik stares her down sticking his chin in her face.  “Say it again, I dare you…”

Kimara bites her lips choking back her laughter.  “I meant to say...you look very handsome.”

“Uh huh.”  Erik says unconvinced but satisfied.

“So now the white men with toupees can swap Rogaine recommendations.”  Kimara adds swiftly.

“YOUGONNAADDTHATWHILEIGOTYOUSNATCHEDUP??!!!”  Erik barks at a cackling Kimara, tickling her neck and the sides of her torso mercilessly.

“OK! OK! You finna make me pee, STAHP!”  Kimara orders in between breaths.

Erik backs off eventually, checking his chin self consciously.  “You playing too much this morning. Since this your week for laundry, make sure you don’t forget the softener this time.  That shit smell good as hell to let it sit.”

Kimara goes over to the toilet to relieve herself, leaning on her knees as she regains her composure.  “Whatever. You got time to eat something before you go?”

Erik pulls off his shirt in all studded and scarred glory.  “Nah, I took too much time at the gym this morning, so Imma have to pick somethin up later on.”

Kimara flushes and goes to her sink rinsing her hands.  “Ok. Let me know when you get off, I wanna go out.”

Erik pulls out an new shirt from his closet to put on.  “Aight bet. You got a place in mind?”

Kimara thinks a moment.  “Not really, but I’ll look up some stuff we can come to a decision on.”

Erik shakes his head.  “Uh uh say less. I got you.  Lemme surprise you with somethin good for once, ok?  You got enough on your plate, imma fill it with something tasty, ok?”  

“Oh my God, you being corny, but I like it.  Thank you…” Kimara says sweetly with smile to match.  Erik pulls her to him for a kiss and a goodbye smack on her ass as he finished up and headed out for the day.

Erik’s meeting with the board went on practically without a hitch.  Erik was always more nervous during preparation than when it came down to performance.  His presentation ran according to his plan and all the old white men looking back at him seemed slightly above average in intrigue over what he had to say.  No one was ever too excited for the meetings unless lunch was included, which today it wasn’t. But by the end he got a round of applause and a series of questions that he answered effortlessly.  When the meeting was dismissed, the cordialities and congratulations were passed around to Erik which he took lukewarmly. He’d been doing this long enough to know that a handshake and a smile does not a deal make.

“Hey Erik, great presentation today son.  You really knocked it outta the park with this one.”  Edward Hawkins, the engineering department head and Erik’s boss, says to him.

Erik nods appreciatively.  “Sure thing. I looked as deep into it as I could and I’m pretty proud of the outcome.”  

Edward subconsciously brushes his comb-over over.  “Yeah, it shows, the details were amazing and your stats very appropriate.  I wouldn’t be surprised if I heard from Dave tomorrow morning with a deal to move forward with a couple things you proposed today.”

“I won’t hold my breath for news that quick, but drinks on you if that’s the case.”  Erik claps Edward on his back and goes to leave.

“Oh, Erik!  I did want to talk to you about something.  I was talking with some of the board members and we thought you might work better with a team, just one extra partner to kind of share the load.”

Erik puts his hands in his pockets walking slowly to Edward.  “Whatchu mean?”

Edward stutters.  “Well I-I mean it's a lot of research and money riding on what you do so to protect you and the company, we feel having a teammate with you would be beneficial!”

“Who you want me with?”  Erik asks curtly.

“Uh, Bryan actually.”  Edward says nervously.

Erik scoffs.  “Your son? The intern?”

Edward gets defensive quickly.  “Now hang on, he is an entry level employee now and he went to Brown, he has the mental capacity to keep up with you.  You think?”

“I don’t think so, nah.”  Erik adds.

Edward sighs.  “Well hell, Erik.  I don’t know what to tell you.  But this isn’t an if but a when situation so I just wanted to give you a heads up so you weren’t blindsided.”

“Cut the bullshit man and tell me what’s this really about.  I been handling mine, no problem. I thought y’all didn’t have the budget for hiring new people any damn way.”  Erik rebuttals. He knew the white folks around there complain most about money. Edward wasn’t gonna pull this over on him so fast.

“It’s not technically a hiring, just a promotion.”

“Ohhhh, that’s nice.  Well since I’m babysitting his ass, I expect a heavier drop in bank account, and that ain’t a promise, issa threat.”  Erik warns, walking towards the glass doors.

“Oh!  Erik, come on!  You’re expecting a helluva lot outta me here.”  Edward calls out.

“I know you good for it.  Make it happen.” Erik walks out leaving Edward to ponder his proposal.  

The meeting was the biggest portion of his day, and judging from his calendar, he is free the rest of the day.  Erik texts Kimara to see if she’d be down to go out still while he attempts to read her mind for a perfect evening ahead.  

In the meantime, Erik calls his cousin to pester.  “Aye T! The hell you doin nigga?”

T’Challa sighs deeply.  “Yes, N’Jadaka. How have you been?”

“Pretty good right now.  I got through with work early so I’m tryna get ready to go out.”

This elicits and even biggers sigh from T’Challa.  “N’Jadaka, there is no way I can go out with you again this week.  I doubt I would want to for the rest of the year to be honest.”

“Not with you, fuck you mean?  I’m talking about Kimara!” Erik says.

“Ohh, well then that is good.  You both are doing well?” T’Challa’s tone brightens suddenly at the relief of not getting blasted drunk in the club again.

Erik approaches his office, closing the door and the blinds.  “Yeah man, I tell you! These past few days have been so good man, we vibing for real.”

“That is great to hear!  She deserves some stress free days concerning all you have planned to do together.”

“Yeah, we haven’t heard back from my doc about the results yet so it’ll be any day.  But she hasn’t even brought up nothing bout it. No text reminders about ovulating and shit, no scheduled sex, just regular spontaneous freakin that-”

“Eh eh, N’Jadaka you are overdoing it again!”  T’Challa warns.

Erik scoffs putting his feet up on his desk.  “Shit my bad. I thought we were having a moment.”

“No your thoughts and desires were having a moment.  So on that note, and keep it clean, what do you and Kimara have planned to do tonight?”

“That’s the thing man.  I’m still tryna figure it out.  I’m bout to pull up some four and five star spots so she can get all cute and fancy for a nigga, you know?”  Erik powers up his computer to being his search.

“Doesn’t she usually Asian foods?”  T’Challa asks.

“Yeah, them beepbeebop meals and shit?  She loves the fuck outta all the side dishes they give with the meal.  More bang for the buck she says, but we ain’t been together….probably since we been married.”

“Bibimbap.  But good, there’s a Korean grill place that opened up downtown  you might want to try with her. I met with Nakia there recently and it was pretty good.”  

“Hold UP!  You and Nakia went out?  Nigga, details!” Erik says excitedly.

“I have asked you countless times to stop calling me that.  But yes we did, only to go over ideas about the outreach center .”

“Annnd?”  Erik asks.

“Erik…”  T’Challa mimicks Erik, but in a stern tone.

“Ooh, ok, you serious using my government name.  I see you. So are you still fucking that one girl from the club?”

“I’m hanging up.”  T’Challa says.

“Wait wait, you can’t talk to me about that either?”

“I don’t parade my conquests for everyone to hear about.”  

“Aha, so y’all still fucking.  Ok, well knowin your ass, she must be a serious situation now.  Especially if you ain’t giving Nakia the time of day.” Erik says matter-of-factly.

T’Challa hesitates before answering.  “We are considering things still, but it is an appropriate adult partnership.  Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Well at least you gettin something on the side while you waiting for scraps at Nakia’s door.  Listen, what’s the name of that Korean place?”

“Palmi, it is not an uptight place but she will enjoy the atmosphere and food, I’m sure.”

Erik types in the place by name and reads over the reviews.  “Cool, this should work. Thanks man.” Erik’s phone dings with a notification from Kimara confirming their night out.  

“Ok T, Imma let you go.  I got some time to pick some roses up or something to give her.”  Erik says getting ready to go.

“Get calla lilies instead.”  T’Challa offers.

Erik pauses.  “What? She likes them more?  I got her roses on Valentines, she liked them just fine.”

“Exactly, that was that manufactured holiday Americans love so much.  Lilies are sweeter, more elegant, sends a better message.”

Erik nods.  “Ok T, I might try that after all,  good looking out.”

Erik clicks off the phone call with T’Challa and makes his way home to get changed.  Kimara was still at the studio so he texts her to meet him at the Korean restaurant in an hour.  There is a florist up the street from his job that he stops by to get Kimara a bouquet of ten lilies with some eucalyptus leaves.

When he gets home, Erik takes his time washing the funk of white elitist off of his skin and slips into his real nigga attire for the day:  dark navy canvas jacket over his chocolate colored Henley with black distressed jeans and timbs. Erik spritz some cologne, just enough to make her lean into him to get a better whiff.  He refreshed his locs, banding them atop his head and giving himself a once over, feeling his excitement build as the time drew near. Erik wanted his lady to know she was appreciated and tonight would highlight that for them.

Pulling up to the restaurant, Erik saw her car was already in the parking lot, a soft glow through the tinted windows indicated she is sitting and waiting for him.  Erik gets out the car with flowers behind his back as he crouches, hopping over to the back end of the car. He glides toward her driver’s side window before knocking loudly against it, causing her to honk the horn in fright.  

“Dammit, Erik!”  Kimara shouts rolling down her window.

Erik leans into the window.  “Ma’am, there’s no loitering in the parking lot.  Spaces for patrons of the restaurant only.”

Kimara turns on the light in her car to check her makeup in her phone.  “Made me smudge my lips.”

“That’s gonna be a problem you have all night. Com’ere.”  Erik pesters Kimara who gives him a light smooch before reapplying.  

Erik opens her car door, helping her out of it.  “Babe, you ain’t had to fuck up the game like this!  I thought you was coming home from work, I know I ain’t let you out the house in this!”

Kimara wore some denim cut off shorts, making a dream out of her deep toned thighs with flesh colored platform sandals adorning her feet.  Her voluptuous frame stood out as her best accessory hugged by her ‘COCO Butter’ baby tee with a scoop neck that let her girls breathe a bit.  

Pulling back her wavy 18 inches back, Kimara shrugs.  “So what about it? A queen comes prepared for any meet and greet, understand me?”

Erik rubs his chin, not able to take his eyes off any part of her.  “That ain’t a fucking problem one bit baby. I just hope these shits don’t wilt from you showing them up tonight.”  Erik takes the bouquet from behind him, giving them to Kimara.

“Awww, Erik!  These are so gorgeous!  And…” She gives them a good sniff.  “MM! Good call on that eucalyptus. How did you know I love me some lilies?”

Erik takes her hand and leads her to the restaurant.  “I know what my lady like. That’s why we finna feed my Mara well so she can go to bed with a smile on her face, you hear me?”

Kimara giggles.  “Good cuz I’m starving too.”

A hostess greets the, warmly before setting them at a table and giving them menus.  Erik and Kimara look over the options.

“The pork belly is good for sure, but the marinated bulgogi never fails me either…” Kimara mutters, looking over their options.

“Get whatever you want Mara, you know this better than me.  If it’s meat, I’ll eat.” Erik professes.

Kimara calls over a waitress and asks for her two faves to order.  “And couple bottles of soju please.”

“What’s a soju?”

Kimara grins sneakily.  “Just a little something to warm us up, you know?”

“Ahh, ok.  Tryna take advantage of me.  I ain’t falling for it neither.”  Erik smirks.

Kimara puts a hand up to his face.  “Skrrrrt! In ya dreams!”

Erik takes her hand, kissing her knuckles.  “You right, woman of my dreams all day every day.”

Kimara rolls her eyes but can’t stop her smile.  “So damn corny. I guess all this good mood is cuz your presentation went well?”

Erik screws his face up.  “I can be happy to see you too!  But...a little bit of work shit too.  Mara, I KILLED that shit. Those whites didn’t phase me not one time.”

Kimara gives him a quick applause.  “How soon til you know what’ll stick for the roll out next year?”

“Ed made it seem like tomorrow, but realistically I’d give it the end of the week.”

The waitress brings out a tray of little dishes with appetizers for them to share and their bottles of soju with some glasses.  Erik and Kimara get their chopsticks ready.

“What’s that?”  Erik points to one of the dishes.

“That’s gamja jorim.  It’s like potatoes in soy sauce, really good!”  Kimara picks a cube of potato up, moaning at the first bite as she bounces in her seat.  

Erik tries it out but makes a face.  “It’s cold!”

“It’s supposed to be!”  Kimara says laughing at him.  Erik opens a bottle of soju and takes a swig.

“Yo!  You’re supposed to drink it like a shot!  You not tryna drive home??” Kimara exclaims.

Erik sets the bottle down, mulling over the flavor.  “That’s not bad, weak, but not bad.”

“It’s not weak, it’s just smooth.  Your taste buds so used to drinking gasoline, you don’t know good liquor.”

“Not too much on my taste, Miss Thing Thang.  I know what’s good, like some meat right now.”  Erik whines scoping the restaurant out like it was supposed to fall from the sky.

Kimara tastes a couple more of the other appetizers.  “Have some of the kimchi! It’s that red cabbage over there.”

Erik does so, to little fanfare.  “I said MEAT Mara!”

On cue, the waitress comes out with a cutting board and the raw meat laid out in two piles, and a side of three dipping sauces for each of them.  She runs some oil along the grill in front of them and places some meat on the hot plate, flipping them and plating some for them before wishing them luck and dismissing herself.

Erik sits there flabbergasted.  “Imma kills this nigga.”

Kimara places more meat on the griddle. “The pig and cow are already dead, bruh.”

“I mean T’Challa.  He recommended this place and he ain’t told me that we gotta cook shit ourselves.   That meat is $30 a pop! We coulda went to the store and ate at home!” Erik fumes, taking his bottle of soju up for another gulp.

Kimara thinks about this a moment.  “Well I think you’re crazy. I’m thanking T’Challa then when we get home, cuz I guess your imagination lives inside a Big Mac box.  Eat!”

Kimara shows Erik hot to lay the meat out and when to tell that it’s ready to take off and eat.  After a few pieces Erik is setting up the sliced meats himself and plating them for him and Kimara.

Kimara gives him a handclap of praise.  “That’s it! See, This the only time I’ve gotten you to cook for me.  Look at God.”

Erik hiccups.  “I cook for you before, lyin ass.”  Erik clinks a plate down before sloppily eating a piece of marinated beef like a spaghetti noodle.

Kimara takes a sip of soju from her glass.  “Oh shit. Erik, gatdammit! You drank too much?”

Erik sits up with a big smile.  “Never too much, never too much!”  he sings.

Kimara calls over the waitress.  “Now I’m gonna have to get up early and get you over here to come get your car.  Fucking…” She gives the waitress her credit card and starts to put on her coat.

Erik reaches for Kimara across the table.  “Baby….baby...babe….you know this meat was real good.”

Kimara swats his hand.  “Yeah, I told you it would be.”

“I know somethin that taste better though.”  Erik says before cackling out loud. “I can still eat baby, just SAY THE WORD!”

Kimara breathes a sigh of relief when she sees the waitress come back with her card.  

“Thanks for coming you guys!  Have a good night!”

“Thank you miss lady, we ‘preciate chu.”  Erik says. He looks over at Kimara writing.  “Aye! Don’t tip, she ain’t cooked shit.”

Kimara shushes him.   “Damn, Erik, shut up! This is a restaurant, she still served us!”  Kimara finishes writing out the ticket and her and Erik walk out the door to her car.  Erik leans back in the passenger seat until he is completely leveled out. “Come on, sit for daddy…”  Erik reaches over Kimara in the driver’s seat.

“Erik, I gotta drive, just go to sleep or something.”  Kimara says, backing out of the space.

“My wife got the fattest ass, fattest pussy, fattest titties.  Shit too good to let go to waste. That’s why I’m taking you home girl…”

“No, I’m taking you home.”  She corrects.

“...You my leftovers.  I’m eat that ass up later.”  Erik laughs to himself at his dinner puns.  

Erik sits his seat upright again after a while.  “Mara, I’m sorry.”

Kimara looks over at him.  “What’re you talking about?”

Erik leans on her shoulder.  “I wanna do right. I wanna be good to you.”

“Aww, you are baby!”

“But you deserve it all, putting up with my bullshit.”  Erik mutters.

“You just got a little drunk.  I’m not mad at you.”

“I ain’t talkin bout now.  I shouldn’t have left you.”

Kimara tenses up.

“Those last days were so good, but I wasn’t ready for good.  I didn’t want you cuz you made things nice. But I wasn’t a nice person yet.”  Erik says.

“Y-yes you were.  I knew you were, that’s why you came back.”

“I wanted to die.  T didn’t let me. If it wasn’t for your forgiveness I probably woulda…”  Erik slumps down in her lap.

“Watch it Erik!”  Kimara exclaims.

Erik twists his face to her stomach to kiss it.  “That’s why Imma make us a family. I don’t care what a doctor say, we finna have a cute ass baby.  I owe it to you.”

Kimara is silent for a while.  “You don’t OWE me a baby Erik.”

“I do, I do.  I’ll do whatever to get this done right.”  

“Erik, shut up, ok?”  Kimara says softly.

Nine Years Ago (Revisit)

Erik had been gone a month, and Kimara had no one she could talk to about it.  Her days working at the local community center to teach music to kids was her only escape from the day to day.  

“Ok Lala, from the top.  Caro mio ben, Credimi almen…”  Kimara sat at the piano going over the melody as her sophomore student Lala handled the lyrics.  She handled the Italian pronunciations expertly, however getting the traditional operatic tone was proving difficult..  

As Kimara played along a cramp in her stomach made her stop playing abruptly to clutch the source of the pain.  

“Ms. Walker?  Is something wrong?”  Lala asked with concern.

Kimara felt horrible all of a sudden as her condition progressed.  “No….well, not with you. I’ve got to stop this rehearsal early. Keep practicing on your own and I’ll see you next week.”  

Kimara made her way to her car, rooting through her purse for her phone but ran across the prescription pill bottle first.  Staring at the label with her name and instructions, she thinks what may have happened had she not gotten them. Could she have gone on without taking them?

Just then a wave of nausea hit her as she  opened her car door to kneel out and puke all over the asphalt.  The stinging in her throat from the force and volume of it all made her cough uncontrollably, stimulating her gag reflex even more.  Kimara gets back in the car, cursing herself for the predicament she has been put in. This was supposed to be the easier way, at this rate she may probably should’ve rethought things.

Sitting in silence for her body to settle down, Kimara’s phone rings, breaking her calm.  She finds it in her purse but sees it’s an unknown number.

“Hello?”  She asks gruffly, voice strained from vomiting.

“Yes, is this Kimara?”  The voice asks.

“Who is this?”  

“I am T’Challa, Erik’s cousin?  I don’t know if he ever mentioned me but-”

Kimara perks up at the name.  “You said you’re Erik’s family?  You’re from Africa?”

He sighs.  “So he hasn’t told you about me then.”

Kimara grows tense.  “Why hasn’t he? But first of all, why are you calling me?  Where’s Erik?”

“He is with me, in Wakanda, for a few weeks now.”

“What??  He actually made it there…”  Kimara’s voice trails off as she thinks of how Erik told her about the stories of his home, the lost family he was a part of, and claiming his part in it.  “I still don’t understand why I’m hearing from you though.”

“He wants to see you Kimara.  He wants to talk to you about things, make things right with you.”

Kimara let out a grave laugh.  “Ohhh, this is corny as fuck. He is sending his cousin, some foreign dude I ain’t met, to call and ask me to talk to him sounding like a scammer.  You tell his ass to bring himself back here on a plane to the States and maybe we will talk. How about that?”

“He can’t do that.”  T’Challa says.

“Like hell he can!  He got there, he can come back.  You calling me? Call him a plane ticket so he can bring his sorry ass back here and say shit to my face.  I ain’t crawling nowhere to him. He don’t know what he’s left me with!”

“Kimara, I’m sorry it’s coming out like this, but-”

“I said what I said, T’Challa!”  Kimara hangs up in his face. She was fuming as she started her engine and drove off to head home.  If Erik only knew….And he always did things like this: do her wrong, then beg to see her and act like nothing was wrong because ‘leave the past in the past’.  He smiles his way into her good graces and they’d be cuddled up with her favorite movie and snacks. But this wasn’t college anymore, they were grown now, and he left her vulnerable.  Kimara knew they were going to go somewhere this time but he didn’t treat her any different than the girls he ran through in his hoe years. But she was supposed to be different, he convinced her of that.  Not anymore, from this day forward.

Kimara pulled up to her place to see a man standing outside of it.  It was dark out so she really wasn’t sure who it was, but the deja vu was heavy within her.  She slowly stepped out her car and stayed behind it as she shut the door.

“Yeah?”  She asked cautiously.

The figure turned around to face her, giving her view of his face.  “Kimara, I know this is rude of me to insist, but I have to act on Erik’s behalf.  You have every right to be angry, but he needs you right now. I want to help you through that.”

Present Day

The trill of Erik’s phone going off wakes them both up as they take a lazy morning.  Kimara barely got a good night’s rest for Erik having gotten too drunk and staggering to bed noisily and sloppily, only then to snore ridiculously loud for almost the whole night.  Kimara smacked her pillow at him to stir him but soon as he hit REM sleep, he was Foghorn Leghorn in the sheets.

Kimara rounded off her pillow upside his head once more to get him to pick up his phone, this time Erik has gained more coordination to register his surroundings.  He picks up his phone without acknowledging the caller ID.

“Hello?’  Erik asks with a heavy tongue.

“Yes, Good morning Mr. Stevens.  This is Doctor Tracy from Jocelyn Elders Fertility Clinic.  How are you this morning?”

Erik sits up slowly.  “Oh hey, yeah, I think you should be telling me that, right?”

The doctor laughs.  “Sure, that’s fair. I would like to speak with you and your wife in person about the results, if you have time this afternoon?’

Erik lightly hits Kimara on her shoulder.  “Aye Mara, you got anything to do this afternoon?”

“I always got something Erik, why?”  Kimara mumbles.

“The doc wants to see us about my results, but I can schedule it later.”

Kimara shoots up with renewed energy.  “Shit! They wanna see us?” Erik nods, covering the mic part of his phone.  Kimara motions to him nodding as she gets up and heads to the bathroom.

“Uhh, yeah, this afternoon will work for us.”

At the doctor’s, they sit in a room waiting to be seen.  The doctor’s normal office seems as sterile and bland as an examination room with the smell of unidentified solutions and the overpowering whiteness of their surroundings, Kimara’s nerves are on the edge.

“What do you think they’re going to tell us?”  She asks.

Erik is leaning on his knees looking blank in his face.  “Whatchu mean?”

“I mean, hell, if it was good they would’ve just told us on the phone!  Did you fuck up your balls doing your duties overseas and you ain’t told me?”

“Hell nah!  Shit like that don’t happen.  Females swear guys gets kicked in the balls every other day or somethin.”  Erik retorts adjusting himself.

“Well it’s gotta be something.  Maybe your time in Africa you got mixed with some shit that didn’t agree with you and wound up making you sterile.”  

“Mara, you don’t know anything about Wakanda or vibranium so chill on that theory.”

“Then tell me something I don’t know Erik, cuz you’d be wasting both our time holding back.”  Kimara warns.

Erik peers over at her.  “The only thing getting wasted is my time and money sitting here cuz ain’t shit the fuck wrong with me.”

Kimara hated when Erik brought up how much he was doing for her by just showing up or dropping some cash on a situation.  She wasn’t with him for everything he could do for her, she was with him because she loved being with him, wanted the best for him, and she put in too many years with him to get that notion twisted.

Before she could really let him have it, the doctor walked in.

“Good Afternoon folks.  I’m glad you were able to make it on such short notice.”  Dr. Tracy greeted them both with a smile and a handshake.

“No problem!  We’ve been waiting on these for a little bit so no way would we miss this.”  Kimara says, looking over at Erik with a smile, who looked bored with it all.

“Yeah, so whatchu got for us doc?”  Erik says scratching his beard noisily.

Dr. Tracy nods.  “Of course, so I won’t delay it any further.  Erik after reviewing your sample, we found nothing abnormal with your sperm count, their mobility, or make up.  You seem perfectly capable of being able to conceive a child with your wife.”

A moment of silence washed over the both of them as they looked wordlessly at one another.

“Soooo, I’m fine?  Chamber loaded, no blanks?”  

“Erik!”  Kimara chides him.

Dr. Tracy chuckles.  “It’s ok, I’ve heard all the euphemisms.  But you are correct. They are...clear for takeoff!”

“Then why are we not pregnant yet?”  Kimara asks in a hollow tone.

“Well, there’s a multitude of scenarios that can contribute to it but what we know right now is that Erik’s sperm is prime for conception and your uterus is beautiful for harboring a baby, just an example of good genetic make up.  I would want to be reborn again from you if I had the chance!” Dr. Tracy adds.

Erik grips the bridge of his nose in frustration.  “So what do you recommend we do from here?”

“Well honestly I would say to just keep having your regular routine.  If you want to keep track of ovulation that’s fine but honestly I wouldn’t put too much pressure on it until it’s been a year of trying.  I know they taught us in school it only takes one time, but as we get older and just leaving it up to God, it sometimes takes just that one good day after many for it to happen.”

“Ok.  I got the answer I needed.  Are we done here?” Kimara says, getting up before she could answer.  

“Yes.  Like I said folks, this is good news.  It means this can still happen naturally and cheaply.”  Dr. Tracy says with a slight chuckle that drops to a tight smile when she reads their expressions.  

As Erik and Kimara get in her car, Erik starts.  “We need a new doctor.”

“What?”  Kimara asks with contempt.

Erik taps on his window nervously looking outside.  “This one don’t know what she talking bout clearly. How she finna joke about this?”

“I mean, she wasn’t laughing at us, she was trying to make us feel better.”  Kimara says.

“Nah, she don’t need defending.  She need to give us some real solutions instead of a punchline.  This ain’t a night at the Apollo, or is she taking us as a joke cuz we Black?”

“Erik, she gave us good news, right?  Are you gonna take any piece of that positivity and just be happy with it?  I don’t know why you’re being mean with her.”

Erik scoffs.  “Trust me this ain’t mean.  I’m just being real. You know these doctors give less of  a fuck for us then they do white patients. She would been giving us fertility referrals and brochures and clinics out her ass if we were white.  But with us it’s ‘well just keep fucking like you niggers always do’.”

“ERIK! Shut the fuck up!  I don’t know what the hell has gotten into you, but you don’t have a damn place to be this upset right now.”  Kimara yells, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

Erik’s neck practically snaps to face her.  “The fuck is-”

“Nah Erik, you been talkin.  Soon as we got there you had stank on you, callin her ‘doc’ and talkin all vulgar.  You need to quit acting like such a child! I almost think you WISH your balls were empty.”

“Mara, ain’t nobody-”

“AND NOW you wanna say let’s switch doctors, when we been working with her since I first told you I was worried about not getting pregnant yet.  She’s spent all this time with us, changing doctors ain’t easy or quick. You know I’m the one that has to carry this right? I’m going to be the one to have to go through treatments if it comes down to it?’

“I know.”

“Nah, you really don’t Erik!  You don’t know what this will do to me having to hear this shit over and over again, when this coulda been mine already.”

Erik’s demeanor softens slightly.  “What’re you talkin bout?”

Kimara’s face becomes wet with tears.  “It wasn’t this hard, you just don’t know.  It could’ve been so damn easy, but you won’t let it.”

Erik looks around out the window.  “Where we goin Mara?”

“And you got the nerve to blame the doctors?  That’s some bullshit nigga, real fucking bullshit.”  Kimara stamps on the brake when she reaches the outside of the Korean BBQ place.  “Get your damn car! I’m going for a drive, don’t wait up.”

Erik looks at Kimara with concern.  “Mara, that’s my bad about the doctor.  I just-”

Kimara clicks the unlock button.  “Get out Erik!”

 Part 5

Masterlist

Ragtag

@chaneajoyyy @sarcastic-sunshines @muse-of-mbaku@dameshaemonique  @fonville-designs@destinio1@bakarisangel @wakanda-inspired@klaine15689 @savageiz @nickidub718@yoyolovesbucky @alexundefined @forbeautyandlife @bakarisangel

#erik killmonger fanfic #erik killmonger x black!oc #shakafic #black panther fic #fanfic #will the bell ring

[ironwoman359]

Opinions of each marching band section, personal experience and stereotypes, go! (Also don’t forget us pit babes shhh)

*perks up* 

Marching band? You got it! (keep in mind these opinions are coming from 12 years concert band experience, 11 years parade marching experience, and 9 years of field marching experience. Also I was a music major. So. I know what I’m talking about, is my point.) 

Drum Major(s): Either a great leader of the band who takes the responsibility seriously, or someone who gets a bit power obsessed/catty with the other drum majors (if there are multiples), causing unnecessary drama. 

Flutes: (I’m biased, as I’m one of them, but) Really really invested in making sure the whole band is at its best. Emotional, take failure really hard. Sometimes can be a source of drama, especially if there are a lot of them. 

Clarinets: I’ve only ever met really dedicated clarinets who contribute so much to the group OR people who I sometimes really question why they’re in band, drama causing, not motivated/dedicated, very laid back at the best. There’s always drama in the clarinets, and there’s almost always a lot of them. 

Saxophones: Generally pretty dedicated, often their skills are based on raw talent (sax is easy to learn, hard to master), so sometimes they don’t have the best practicing regiments, but the ones who do, or the ones who are really talented…phew, freakin amazing, man. 

Trumpets: Arrogant Self-confident, LOUD, all think that they can play really high notes when really only like three of them can, but it doesn’t stop them from trying. No drama from this section, no, this is a shenanigans section (there’s a difference), and you won’t forget it. But a generally harmless, albeit rowdy, bunch. Now if we could just get them all to keep their bells at 10 degrees above parallel (IF THE EUPHS CAN DO IT YOU GUYS CAN TOO OKAY?) 

Mellophones: The confidence of trumpets with the dedication of flutes with the skill of saxophones. 90% are wonderful, hard working members who slay their solos and sometimes get the trumpet solos too instead of the trumpet players. One of them probably owns a flugelhorn. 

Trombones: Proceed with caution. Extremely unpredictable. Often laid back but extremely talented, though also often very dangerous to approach. At least half of the sections’ minds live in the gutter.

Baritones: What the hell is a euphonium? 

Euphoniums: There is inevitably that one who has to read treble clef and has to have ALL OF THEIR MUSIC TRANSPOSED FOR THEM AND NO IT’S FINE I CAN DO THAT FOR YOU GUYS IT’S NOT LIKE I HAVE UNIFORMS TO MANAGE HERE (I was on the logistics team for the last two years of my university band career, and as the only music major on the squad, I had to do all the transposing.) 

Tuba/Sousaphones: Shoulder pain. Dirty minds with hearts of gold. Stubborn. Always losing their damn berets. But good beans. 

Drumline: Like omg how. So impressive. Disciplined, dedicated, have more rehearsals than anyone else. But also massive goof offs. If it’s not common practice for your band to rehearse shirtless when it’s especially hot, it’s still the drumline’s practice. 

Front Ensemble/Pit: The band complains that they get to leave performances early. Don’t realize that they must arrive at least 30 minutes early to literally everything. Tied with drumline for having more rehearsals than anyone. Pretty much, the percussionists always have more rehearsals, it just be like that. Players who can play with four mallets have a lot of fun showing said technique off. One (1) obligatory piano player to play the synthesizer. Sometimes the injured kids end up playing auxiliary percussion in the pit, but the section welcomes them with open arms. The only ones who get to rehearse in the air conditioning during band camp. Carry the banner during parades. Need help carrying their equipment (please god, someone help them) 

#marching band #music #band #drumline #drum corp #flute #clarinet #trumpet #mellophone #euphonium #trombone #tuba #percussion #drum majors

[starfishandcoffee]

#watching under the cherry moon

“Once upon a time in France, there lived a bad boy named Christopher Tracey. Only one thing mattered to Christopher: Money. [...] Somewhere along the way, he learned the true meaning of love.”

Aw man, that’s some Jean Cocteau La Belle et la Bête shit right there. Will Prince truly be cured of his pencil mustache by true love?

----

*Tricky’s note* ‘She’s thirsty. Pour it on!’

We’re watching a film about Prince as a for-hire gigolo, I think it’s safe to say we’re all thirsty.

----

I like how they threw in a ballerina behind Prince, just to class it up. Now he can make all the sex faces he wants. Or at least he could if Tricky wasn’t distracting him with those notes about how they’re behind on rent and desperately need money, hence why Prince is a gigolo, plot stuff...

Now, movie, I love you, I do - But i’m not exactly watching for the plot.

----

A Film By Prince - It really couldn’t have been from any other.

----

Five minutes in and we have our butt shot. See, this is why UTCM is the classy Prince picture. Graffiti Bridge gave us shirtless Prince less than a minute in, UTCM makes you wait for it.

----

“Mirror, mirror, seventeen fold, who’s the sexiest dressed in gold?”

*Tricky not wearing any gold* “You must be talking about me, cousin!”

*Christopher to Katy, who is not naked* “Smile, Katy, you’re naked!”

Hmmm, the dialogue makes no sense and the whole scene is meaningless - WOW! UTCM really is an art film!

----

So Tricky (and possibly Christopher also) are sexing up the landlady Katy... but they still have to pay rent? Seems like they only get slight increases in their delays between paying - Perhaps they should try renegotiating their arrangement? 

Or give her them Bela Lugosi eyes, sure.

----

“I guess it takes a certain amount of courage for anyone to allow himself to be photographed that way. My advice to Prince is; be a coward the next time.” - Roger Ebert.

... he’s not wrong. 

----

*Christopher drowns a bath toy*

“Fascist!”

See, this is why the movie flopped; people weren’t ready for such frank and brutal criticisms of Reagan-era government, and his oppression of many minority groups during the 80s - steadily turning America from a capitalist culture of greed and gluttony, to a quasi-fascist regime, hell bent on eradicating certain groups (like the LGBT) through unfair legislation and willful neglect.

Viva la revolution! Prince is ready, willing and able to lead us!

----

Prince in the bath, naked, wet, phonesexing it up - truly, the content we all came for. 

----

*bathroom sign* chantier interdit au public = public access not permitted. BOO. Cockblocking bathroom.

----

Oh look, it’s the british actor that played Foot in The Beatles Help! - A movie whose plot revolves around Ringo being chosen as a human sacrifice because he’s wearing a very special ring that he can’t seem to take off...

And yet despite that being the plot, it has a rating of 92% fresh on Rotten Tomatoes, while UTCM has a rating of 33% rotten. The moral here? No matter how stupid and terrible your movie, people will mistakenly thinks it’s brilliant if you’ve got someone in there with a British accent.

British accents! Classing things up and making them seem better than they actually are since always! (Disclaimer from this British person: No. They really don’t, we’re not better than Americans, not by a long shot.)

----

This movie has Elephants. It is officially the best movie ever made. Prince and Elephants, you can’t top that. Shut down the studios, it’s over for everyone else.

----

Mary’s first scene is more than a little weird given the character traits and personality she has throughout the rest of the film - 

*here* Wild, shameless and unabashed partygirl, life of the party, no filter, happily flashes a large crowd that includes friends and family, openly flirts with stranger Christopher, is a real livewire. 

*the whole rest of the film* Cold, calculating, chip on her shoulder, trust and intimacy issues stemming from a strained relationship with her father, overly serious, fun sucking killjoy.

Consistency! 👍

----

It really is a shock to watch a Prince film were the leading lady can actually act.

----

I’m weak.

----

So Mrs. Wellington is sleeping with Christopher and Mary’s dad? + Her husband? Though he never shows up in the film so he might be DOA.

“You aren’t seeing another man, by any chance? Because if you are, i’ll kill him.” Ah, so this is the real reason he had Christopher killed, not because he cares about his daughter, we see throughout the rest of the film he doesn’t, but what he does care about is his married mistress daring to see another man.

----

Mary spends all night and all morning obsessing over comebacks she could have given during a conversation she had the day before? She takes the time to track down where Christopher is, and goes there just to deliver the ‘perfect’ retort? Ok, Mary, ok. I feel you. 

----

Jabs exchanged over an intimate dance? YASSS, you better give me the enemies to lovers trope I live for UTCM.

----

“I’m in the mood for drawers!” Prince’s lyrical genius knows no limits.

----

*Christopher sees a stranger’s car*

‘Welp guess i’m just gonna hop in and play pretend i’m driving it!’ 

----

“Oh, no! I don’t know him! He said what, officer? My brother?! Oh, no! We definitely have different fathers! Check it out; butterscotch, chocolate. No way.”

Prince doesn’t get enough credit or praise for how damn funny he is. 

----

Wrecka Stow - The sole enduring legacy of UTCM.

----

Mary’s got that Neon Telephone.mp3 (I want it).

----

And another shirtless Prince scene. How can anyone not love UTCM?

----

Climbs up the wall with a ladder, breaks into her house through the window, calls himself a pizzaman - Romance; nailed it!

----

Funniest scene in the whole movie. *guard dogs start barking* “Oh, fuck it!”

----

I wish they’d included Love Or Money on the Parade album.

----

A shopping montage? YES. Though they missed the opportunity to have Prince come out in a bunch of different ensembles while Jerome shakes his head.

----

Now, I love Prince, I especially love Parade-era Prince, and you know I love this movie, but... that kiss in front of the car... was he trying to kiss her or eat her? And not in the fun way, no, in the: I’m going to rip your lips off with my teeth - kind of way. Red Dragon is not what I want to be thinking about when i’m enjoying a vicarious fantasy of making out with Prince, mkay.

----

Chases her down, tackles her to the ground and pins her so she can’t escape. Romance; nailed it!

----

“I must have that disease? What’s the name of it?” “It’s called ‘stupid’.”

I freakin’ love this movie.

----

“As a matter of fact, it’s not so hot; you bit me once!”

I told yall. If he starts lifting weights and refusing to look at his own reflection, i’m outta here.

----

Oh, Prince is making sex noises, moans and all that? Ok, i’m staying.

----

“Jesus Christ, shut up? I’m calling your Daddy, this instant. Be quiet, maybe, yes. Pipe down. But not ‘shut up’. Oh, no! I won’t allow that!”

I just...

“I’ll come kick your face off!” “... did you say kiss my face off? I’d like that real well...”

... I love this movie, so much.

----

“You rich folks always taking from people like me. That says what? That says now i’mma take something from you.”

The Socialist hero we need (and want). Again, no wonder this flopped:

----

One the great things about Kristin Scott Thomas being a great actress is that not only does she elevate the scenes she’s in, it encourages Prince to step up and play off her really well. UTCM is the best Prince ever was, acting-wise.

----

I love the shot of Mary’s hand cradling the two lovers superimposed on it. People really need to give Prince more credit for his skills as a director, and of course, the late, great Michael Ballhaus who provides the film’s gorgeous cinematography. UTCM, if nothing else, is a stunningly beautiful picture.

----

... these, these kisses between Mary and Christopher are just some of the most awkward and unsexy i’ve ever seen. PRAAANNCCE stop trying to consume her.

----

“Because it’s a full moon, and i’m a werewolf, bitch!” 

I would be interested in a movie about Jerome Benton becoming a werewolf.

----

Billowing curtains during the night, as our main character struggles with confusion and despair? In France?! This really is some Jean Cocteau La Belle et la Bête shit right here.

----

This trippy “Christopher, I miss you!” scene... so... artsy.

----

I like how the maid in the background is dabbing her, presumably tearfilled, eyes, over Mary’s frustration of her situation. We’ve missed a whole other movie about how the maid practically raised Mary, and is more of a mother to her than her actual mother. She’s even reflected in the mirror, outright crying.

“I hurt real bad.” Maid’s like, me too, baby, me too.

----

Nice of Mrs. Wellington to tell Christopher what’s happening with the plot. 

“Good luck, Christopher.” She’s weirdly supportive of her former gigolo going after the daughter of the man she’s having an affair with. What’s up with Mrs. Wellington, I feel there’s a lot there we kind of need an explanation of.

And I feel like, ‘well, she is French...’ isn’t a good enough answer.

----

This race to the airport/abduction scene is made by having it set to Anotherloverholenyohead. It’s weirdly thrilling and suspenseful.

----

“I need a lifetime!” “I’m not giving it to you!” 

*the craziest of all crazy eyes*

 “Oh yes, you are.”

----

This whole scene in the car, again, just great direction, framing, composition... this is such a beautiful film.

----

Whipping off his sunglasses exactly as Kiss starts up? Perfection.

----

The hobos agree.

----

So... why was Christopher aimlessly wandering around the docks after dropping Mary off at the grotto? At first I thought he had sent for Tricky, but no, he’s surprised to see him there, so... what’s happening?

You’d think Christopher would lay low and hide out since the police and Mary’s dad are trying to find him, but... err, nope. This is why you end up shot, idiot.

----

“Hold them off, i’m going to get Mary.” But... but... but you already had Mary! You had her and a getaway vehicle! Why did you drop her off, come back to land, and aimlessly wander around?! Movie, I have so many questions.

----

Wait... Tricky and Katy make it to the grotto on foot, before Christopher made it by speed boat? So it would have been quicker to just walk there, rather than drawing attention to himself by using the speed boat? Movie, I swear to God.

----

“Christopher, run!” He’s in a boat!

----

“I’m not going without you.” You already went without her!

“There’s no time to wait, go!” Lady, they’re after him because your father said he abducted you, the best chance he has is to remain with you, while you explain the situation. Idiots, the both of them.

----

He’s shot... because of his own poor planning and stupidity. Hmmm.

----

Well, Tricky seems more broken up about it than Mary. Guess we know who truly loved him.

----

So Christopher’s dead, Mary depressed and refusing to move on, but HEY Tricky’s doing good! He’s landlord of his own apartment complex and Katy’s with him now... I guess she sold the property she owned in France? And Tricky’s threatening to put her out on the streets... hmmm. Well, I guess everything’s come full circle, not, like, in any of the ways we wanted, but, err MOUNTAINS.

----

Apart from the slight ball drop at the end, this is honestly a great film, and easily Prince’s best. I love it as is, but I do hope one day we get the original colour print version and the alternate ending that was apparently shot but not used.

#starfishandcoffee #watches under the cherry moon

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

TF2 Headcanon

>Concept: Scout tries to get Heavy & Medic to Realise(TM) they like each other, and it backfires spectacularly... well. 

Title: Playing Cupid

Demoman's advice to speak to Spy about his little problem rang through Heavy's mind. Perhaps... he could help.

"Hey, you listenin' to me, big guy?" interjects the sound of his opposite on teh team, and catching the Russian off-guard for once. He pauses in the corridor to glance behind, finding the animated runner suddenly there.

"Uh... da, of course." he says, automatically, and Scout makes a face.

"Nah ya weren't but dat's okay... thing is, I heard Demo tell ya to ask Spy about how to woo the freaky Doc and his birds... but like, brother you do not wanna do that. Everything's sixteen spoons and seducing dummies with that guy..."

To that, Heavy had no response.

"See, 'cause when we had the bread situation... I kind asked him for help with Miss P -'fore I realised she wasn't just inta me, but like, she wasn't a fan of guys in general... and it didn't go so great. At all. And I can;t get the way he shouted, "Seduce Me!" outta my head, it's horrifying... also he slaps ya with the dummy a lot, not fun.

And ta be honest, I don't think birdlord-whackadoodle is going to fall for that stuff neither..."

Heavy holds up a hand to stop the Scout. The onslaught of english was pretty hard to take at the best of times, but Heavy also had to address the name-calling...

"Doctor is wonderful man, has eccentricities yes, but is not crazy."

There was a loud maniacal laugh from the direction of the infirmary as the lights flickered on and off; and a loud, "It's ALIVE!", that didn't help Heavy's case.

Scout was making an 'are you serious?' expression at the other. "Ignoring Exhibit A over there, ya gotta admit Doc's a bit weird..."

"So are you, tiny one..." Heavy counters, grabbing the runner and lifting him with one hand. "See? Is unusual for men to be so spindly... must get it from Spy."

"HE AIN'T MY DAD!" Scout yells, flailing dangerously. "PUT ME DOWN!"

Heavy sets the runner back on the floor and watches the younger man huff in embarrassed frustration. Scout was sensitive about not being the most muscular amongst them, yes... but he was not the weakest; Heavy had seen the runner kill the BLU heavy with nothing but that tiny little bat...

"fuckin' try ta help ya ungrateful fatso how wouldja like it if i picked you up like that... forget it who freaking cares anymore fuckin'..."

Heavy puts a hand on the other's shoulder. "Scout, you must not call Medic such names... but Heavy did not mean to offend you. You are small, but that does not mean you are not strong... just different. Heavy's sisters are all very different in size, very strong, and talented in torture; am very proud of them."

"Aw thanks ma-... wait, ya see me as a sister?" Scout squints at him.

To which, Heavy let out a loud bellow of laughter. "Oho, no... of course not."

Scout seemed to settle down, "Alright then, okay... well, if ya done tellin' me ya think of me like ya buff-ass sisters... we can try and fix your Medic problem..."

Now this was intriguing, "And how does little Scout propose to do that...?"

"Easy, like this..." Scout says, taking three steps down the hall, flinging open the Infirmary doors and shouting, "HEY DOC HEAVY THINKS YA CUTE AND HAVE A NICE ASS AND HE DOESN'T THINK YA BIRDS ARE WEIRD, MAYBE KISS HIM OR SOMETHING?"

A loud metallic clang from inside signified Medic had dropped something in surprise. Heavy was standing in the corridor, mouth agape and horrified...

"SCOUT YOU LOUD LITTLE JUNGE, VHAT ARE YOU YELLING ABOU-... vait, vhat? He does?" Medic's angry tone drops as he catches up to the situation.

"You bet he does, come out and say something. Wait, hold on..." Scout disappears into the room and a minor struggle ensues. HEavy is tempted to look... but he can't move. "Alright, there ya go. Now get out there... there's like a mountain of Russian man out there who thinks ya hot as hell..."

There's a pause, then the sound of someone being shoved across a floor.

"C-c'mon doc, out ya go..." grunts the Scout, finally getting the Medic into the corridor. He wipes the sweat from his brow with a bandaged wrist, "Whhew, you're almost as stubborn as Heavy is, you two are great for one another. Good luck with that..."

Medic laughs, "Oh, I'M stubborn, am I? Have you met yourself, hase?"

"Aw shuddup..." Scout grumbles, playfully shoving the Medic, but somehow his antics were dissolving the awkward tension that the air seemed to be made of right at the moment.

Heavy felt himself melt a little, an unusual sensation, when Medic pinched the runner's cheek and laughed. "Be silent yourself, hase, you know it's true..."

In fact, the whole situation was nice, yet... insular. It felt as if Heavy was watching a scene from afar, on a show or play. Two people enjoying themselves, playfully mocking one another; he found himself unconsciously comparing them against one another. The contrast of age and youth, size and shape, the different musculature and attire... the expressions and how they emoted them.

Medic was not overtly a hand-talker or toucher unless highly engaged in conversation or very familiar. Scout used every inch of his being to express his thoughts and emotions... most likely why he always lost at Poker night.

So different... yet very similar, when he thought on it. Heavy saw the same animation, that spirit in their eyes that he found admirable; made them the person to get up and try once more, when everything had gone to hell in the battle. And, in their own ways... attractive.

Medic was... Heavy had never had a singular word in any language for Medic. The man was... indescribable, and yet everything Heavy could ever wish for.

And the Scout... well, he was something altogether different. Human lightning, if anything.

So caught in these strange comparisons, Heavy didn't notice that Scout had sensed something amiss. "Hey big fella, you okay over there?"

"Hmmm, da. Was just... thinking." Heavy said.

"Aw c'mon man, you have to at least talk to the guy first before ya start ogling him like that in public..." Scout whines, mock-offended and flinging his hands skyward as if outraged by this lack of decorum.

Medic starts to laugh, as Heavy feels his cheeks flush. How did one even respond to such an accusation? Outright denial was considered affirmation, after all; especially using Scout-logic, which made no sense to anyone else on the team, either.

Scout rounds on the Medic, all mock-outrage. "And YOU! Shamelessly showing off that..." he gestures to all of Medic. "No wonder he's having such freakin' nasty thoughts... I mean, you even walked about without ya lab coat on yesterday and I thought he might just die from the sight of ya freakin' nice ass parading around..."

Medic was turning pink, wheezing breaths between laughter, tears forming in his eyes as the Scout continued, like an offended Great-Aunt at her teenage niece. Heavy was starting to get concerned the man might collapse from oxygen deprivation at this point.

"Which brings me back ta the whole reason I went and kicked in ya door," Scout suddenly dropped the act in a heartbeat, and went back to his regular self. Heavy just about had whiplash from the transition. "This big dumb idiot has been mooning after ya from afar for so damn long, like he didn't know he liked ya or something, and he almost went ta freakin' SPY for advice on how to tell ya..."

Medic was peering at Heavy now; curious, calculating, admiring. It was equal parts flattering and concerning; Heavy could not gauge the depth of the German's thoughts.

"Is it true?" Medic finally says.

"...da, is true." Heavy admits, letting the confession fill the space between them all.

Both parties try not to notice the awkwardly fidgeting Scout taking up space between them. Clearly unsure if he was supposed to go or stay until someone had confessed their undying love... Spy would know, but the runner would throw himself off a cliff before he asked that guy anything else.

"Well... it appears we are of similar minds about zhe situation." Medic smiles, diffusing the sick fear spreading through Heavy's mountainous frame with every passing second of silence.

"You...?"  he begins to question, but Medic nods.

And then the peaceful moment is utterly shattered by a loud, "Thank FUCKING finally!"

Both mercenaries turned to stare at the runner, raising eyebrows and trading intrigued smirks. Scout looked exhausted, like he'd personally been willing them to hurry the hell up and say it... it was almost ridiculous, really.

"I'm sorry, vas our mutual realisation of romantic attraction towards one another not expedient enough for your schedule, Herr Scout?" queried Medic, tone amused as he moved closer to Heavy.

"Are ya fuckin' kidding me? Pal you two are the WORST at recognising ya like someone... do you know how long I've had ta watch Heavy pining after ya like some lovesick puppy? Or how painful it was to have Dr Birdlord over there going outta his way to show off his tight  features in the hopes that Heavy'd notice? Ya fucking circled, and circled and circled each other and it just made me dizzy... dunno how you two feel about it..."

"So vhat I hear him saying, Heavy, is zhat... as ve vere admiring one another... he vas vatching us both, ja?" Medic grins, teasing.

Heavy nods back, "Certainly sounds correct, da. Does leetle Scout have something he wishes to share with us, hmmm?"

Scout's mouth had dropped open, expression twisted between instinctive urge to deny things and some confusion. As if it hadn't occurred to him at all.   Eventually, he sort of slumps and asks, "...what?"

"Oh dear, is as clueless as Doctor was..." laughs Heavy, suddenly delighted to have the situation turned around for some good-natured revenge.

"Hush Heavy, you vere also in zhe dark until moments ago vhen Scout... vell, vhen Scout pointed out you had indeed been admiring my physique and self from afar." Medic responds, tapping the larger on the arm playfully.

"Wait... are you implyin' I like ya?" Scout questions, clearly not in the loop here despite being the subject of discussion.

"...did you not know?" Heavy asks, tone oddly gentle, uncertain if they were stepping into new territory with the Scout or not. Ones the runner wasn't even aware of himself...

"Uh... well I mean, not... really?" Scout runs a bandaged hand through his hair, perturbed.

"Are you aware you referred to my person, specifically my behind, favourably multiple times in the last few minutes?" Medic asks, easing into it.

Scout looks like someone just told him that baseball, as a sport, had just been cancelled. "...fuck. I'll uh, be going..."

Except, of course, that the runner failed to notice he was basically sandwiched between the two in a narrow corridor so there was no escape.

"...fuck."

Heavy was too busy laughing to admonish the runner for his language. It died in his throat when the runner gave in and just flopped forwards, resting his forehead against Heavy's chest; Medic patted Scout on the back reassuringly.

"...okay, so this is fuckin' weird." Scout eventually adds to the conversation. "I just wanted to make you two stop making with the lovey-dovey faces every time the other's back was turned, and when I heard Demo tell the big guy ta speak to Spook..."

"Vell, on zhe upside... to know oneself is power, Scout." consoles Medic.

"Yeah but now I went and ruined it... fuckin' undid all my hardwork by makin' the whole thing about me..." the edge of anxiety to the tone was new, and unwanted.

"Revelations rarely happen when wanted, Scout. Sometimes, at worst times... and we do not mind." Heavy provides, patting the runner on the head in a way that got an endearing wiggle-and-whine response.

"Don't do that big guy... feel like a stupid kid enough right now..." he grumbles.

"Vell, you are." adds Medic, unhelpfully. Then, seeing the expression Heavy shoots him, elaborates. "You are young and many things are new, even when you are old things surprise you... how do you think I felt when you so suddenly announced Heavy reciprocated my interest?"

"Heh, you nearly threw that tray of surgical shit through the ceiling..." Scout snorts, turning his head to look at Medic.

"He did?" Heavy inquires, grinning and looking at Medic for confirmation. The other man refused to look at him, which generally meant yes.

"Yeah man, you shoulda seen it!" Scout enthused, perking up enough to stand up straight and look at the Russian. "Flung them right up into the air, this wide-eyed look of surprise or whatever, as the birds went crazy... and there was a second he looked like snow white in that one scene with all the animals... then suddenly he starts yelling at me..."

"...did you just compare me to a Disney princess, Scout?" Medic queried, trying not to laugh as the runner flushed. "Who knew you could be so adorable... and so oblivious?"

"Hey, I thought I was only into Miss P and chicks like her ten minutes ago..." Scout defends, changing topic.

"Und now you can add persons like myself and Heavy to zhe list, I assume?" Medic teases.

"Yea-... wait, both ain't weird?" frowns the runner.

The older two share a look, of the kind one can only get from lived experience and continuous exposure to new ideas about ancient concepts no one wanted written in textbooks.

"Da, is entirely normal. Would have thought with Spy as father that you would know about-..." Heavy pauses at the sour look the statement gets. "Nevermind. Is normal to like both... the people who think so are those who cling to strange ideas."

"Oh, cool... but I still did kinda steal ya big romantic moment back there, so... if you wanna do a take two, I can shuffle 'round ya and leave you two to it..." Scout said, relieved, but looking for  a way to fix the situation he'd inadvertently had a minor existential crisis in.

"I think," Medic says carefully, putting an arm around Scout's torso from behind, ready to let go at the slightest hesitation. "that perhaps, little hase, you has best allow yourself to be caught a moment..."

Heavy places a hand on each mercenary, thumb caressing Medic's cheek and gently clasping Scout's shoulder. "Da, but only if you wish... leetle Scout..."

"...you're sure that's... okay?" Scout asks, visibly considering it, but hesitating.

"Of course it is... you have watched us in hopeful longing as much as we observed you back just zhe same. Und zhere is no harm in zhe attempt... in seeing vhere zhis goes." Medic adds. Looking to both of them, consideringly. "Mein men, if you vill have me... stoic, gentle Heavy und our speedy little hase, so bright and youthful."

"And you are our Doktor, brilliant and beautiful... I love this Doktor..." Heavy adds, looking right into the German's eyes. They seemed to be magnetic, as both men unconsciously moved closer together...

"Uh, hey, not that it ain't cute or hot or whatever ya supposed to call the two dudes ya like kissing... but uh... I don't wanna die." Scout squirmed, caught in the middle of the two.

Heavy and Medic broke apart, laughing, as Scout melodramatically gasped for air; though he'd only been slightly squished for a moment or two at most.  

"I zhink he is jealous, Heavy..." Medic says, mischievously.  

"Da..." Heavy grins back, as the twitchy runner between them tries to watch them both at once, uncertain what was about to happen. "Must learn to share..."

"Wait, whatr're you gonna-... oh my god, you dorks!" Scout giggles as he's suddenly peppered by small kisses on his face and neck. It's nice, stirred something inside that felt warm and safe; but mostly he's a bit ticklish and can't stop laughing.

Medic puts a hand to the runner's face, ending the little game. "Is zhis  alright, hase?"

"It's... yeah." Scout smiles cheesily in response, leaning in as the Doctor kisses him. When they break apart, he eyes Heavy, "Guess to be fair you hafta come down here and get a piece of me too... good thing there's enough to go round..."

Heavy rolls his eyes, but acquiesces; leaving the Scout marvelling at the fact that he's gone from kissing zero men, to two, all in the stretch of a few minutes. Both so different, yet... good.

"Oh dear... vhat have ve unleashed?" sighs Medic, jokingly, moving around Scout to lean on Heavy. The other man put his arms around them both; kissing Medic properly this time, with no distractions.

"Something good, I think... my Doktor." Heavy replies. Fondness and relief written all over his features now that the truth was out there, and the situation was resolved positively.  

"Well I didn't expect any'a this... but I'm kinda happy it did." Scout hums, content  to stay in the huddle for as long as the others were willing.

"As are we, hase..." Medic replies, with a soft smile at Heavy. "As are we."

- - - The End. - - -

Additional/Alternate ending:

"Mmmm, good, 'cause when someone tells Spy I'm dating you two he's gonna be pissed..." Scout adds.

Medic and Heavy look to one another with fear.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #heavy #medic #scout #heavy/medic/scout #written in chat and entirely unedited #mwahahahahaaaa #its trash you're welcome

[choupetit]

GOT Recap: The Queen’s Justice

Airdate:  7/30/17 

Season 7, Episode 3

Hell hath no fury like Cersei on the warpath and this week she was certainly on a ROLL! Lots of great stuff happened in the latest episode, including a much-anticipated meeting between two of my favorite characters.  And we even had some rare moments of comedic relief.  Game of Thrones is picking up some major speed, so let’s hop right onto the crazy train and get this recap of “The Queen’s Justice” started!

So, um…I’m Kind of a Big Deal

Huzzah! Rather than make us all wait for the big Daenerys/Jon Snow meet-up, we start right off the bat with the good stuff:  Jon Snow arrives at Dragonstone along with his trusty advisor, Ser Davos, and they are greeted at the shore by Missandei and Tyrion.  Jon and Tyrion give each other a good-natured hello along the lines of “Hey, Bastard! lol” -”Yo, Dwarf. rofl”. [Side note: I was really hoping for one of those pregnant pauses where they just look at each other seriously and then say “C’mere, you!!” and embrace in a big, friendly bro hug.  This didn’t happen. Color me disappointed.]   Missandei kindly asks them to surrender all their weapons, because even though they’ve heard how cool Jon is, one can never be too careful when returning from exile to dethrone the current monarch. Foreign Invader Strategies 101, y’all.

On the long,meandering walk up to the castle (which, it must be said, is really quite scenic), Tyrion notes that Jon made a bold move showing up at Dragonstone to meet with Queen Dany, especially since Stark men haven’t fared too well with Targaryens in the past - to which Jon replies he’s not a Stark - oh if only he KNEW!!! As if on cue, one of Dany’s enormous dragons appears out of nowhere and swoops over them, flying off into the distance. It startles the bejesus out of Jon and Davos as they stop, drop, and cover. For their sake, I really hope they get to put on a change of clothes before meeting Dany.   

Much higher up the path, we see Melisandre looking down at Jon Snow, when Varys creeps up.  He questions why she was so keen to have Jon visit, and yet, is hiding away.  Mel keeps things vague and only lets on that mistakes were made on her part and she’s ready to head back to Volantis.  Varys tells her to stay there, but she tells him she must return one day with the cryptic phrase “I must die in this strange country, just like you.” They both share a meaningful look.  Wait, what?  What is going on here?!  Do these two have some kind of history together, or just lots of intel on each other? It’s all very mysterious and now I’m intrigued. 

On to Dany’s throne room! Missandei introduces Daenerys to her visitors, rattling off the long list of titles Dany has.  When it’s time for Jon’s intro, Ser Davos is all “This is Jon Snow.”  Jon looks at him like “Duuuuuude! Come ooooooon, I’m trying to make an impression here!” Davos adds “He’s the king in the North”. It’s a strained meeting to say the least - Right out the gate, Dany  comes on strong with her claim to the throne, citing there is no “King in the North”, seeing how the North is one of the kingdoms that belongs to the ruler on the Iron Throne. She demands that Jon swear his loyalty to her, citing that time when an ancient Stark ancestor made a fealty agreement with a Targaryen that spans forever ever (forever, ever?! Yeah.  Forever ever).  Jon is like “Nah, I’m good, let’s talk about snow zombies”…which really goes over well. Dany gets all puffed up saying that Jon will be in open rebellion to her if he won’t bend the knee. In Jon’s defense, they are all running out of time and he can’t be fighting a war for Dany.  But Tyrion points out, that the fight for the throne has already begun and they can’t just channel their inner Zack Morris and call a time out while they clear up the pesky Night King/Army of Dead situation.  Also, they kinda don’t believe him. Davos goes into total hype man mode and starts to rattle off Jon’s resume and all the things he’s done for the North and how he got stabbed in the heart and Jon gives him a look that screams “Ix-nay on the resurrection alk-tay, man! They already don’t believe this whole Whitewalker stuff!”

The meeting is cut short when Varys arrives with some important news. Jon and Davos are sent to their rooms for some R&R and Dany lets them know their current status is “esteemed guests who are not yet prisoners.”

Varys breaks the news to Dany on the Euron Greyjoy ambush.  Ugh.  Well there goes the Greyjoy and Martell support. When Dany asks if there were any  survivors on her side, we get a very brief cut to Theon being fished out of the water by one of the Good Greyjoy ships that survived the ambush of the Bad Greyjoys.  Needless to say, Theon can’t get no respect from the crew.

Killer Queen

While we’re on the subject of Greyjoys…Euron has returned to King’s Landing with the gift he promised Cersei:  Ellaria Sand and her daughter, Tyene  aka the ones who sneakily murdered Cersei and Jaime’s daughter, Myrcella. Well, well, well, isn’t payback a biatch? After parading through town with his prisoners -who get a proper public-shaming from the good people of King’s Landing - Euron delivers the duo to Cersei with much bravado. Cersei is extremely pleased and tells Euron he’ll get what he wants (her hand in marriage) once the war against Daenerys is won.  In the meantime, she appoints him as her naval commander and then moves on to the most important business of the day: Revenge.

In one of the dungeons of the Red Keep, Cersei along with Qyburn and Frankenmountain pay Ellaria and her daughter a visit.  The prisoners are chained and gagged and Cersei launches into a blistering, taunting, calculated monologue about how she’s been planning for this day, deciding how she would punish Ellaria. She lays out various gruesome scenarios and finally, Queen C plants a big ol’ kiss on Tyene’s lips and mother and daughter immediately realize that she’s been given the kiss of death with the same poison that was used to kill Cersei's own daughter.  Poetic justice. In true Cersei fashion before sauntering off, she lets Ellaria know that she’ll have the pleasure of watching her daughter die and decompose in front of her as she lives out the rest of her days in this cell, contemplating her poor choices in life.

Next, Cersei joins Jaime in his chambers to jump his bones, cause revenge just makes her super horny.  Naturally.  

The next morning, Cersei has a visitor.  It’s a representative of the Iron Bank of Braavos, and they want their two dollars…and then some.  The bank is concerned about the impending war between Cersei and Daenerys and the outstanding mountain of debt the Lannisters still owe the bank. The rep hints the bank is considering funding Queen Dany since they aren’t about to loan Cersei any more money until she pays back the current loan. Cersei assures the banker that Lannisters always pay their debts and if he can hold off for just one more day, the debt will be paid in full.  Oooh, what’s up her sleeve this time?

Whattaya Want From Meh?!

Back at Dragonstone, Jon is getting some fresh air and brooding as only he can.  Tyrion joins him and makes a few attempts at humor, but Jon is, like, totally super bummed out, man, ‘cause he really needs to save his people from the damn ice zombies that nobody else believes in and it’s just so freakin’ frustrating, uuuuugh! Tyrion tells Jon his request would be a tall order for anybody during a first-time meeting.  He points out that Dany and Jon have quite a bit in common in that they both care about helping and saving others and that Jon should give things some time for Dany to come around once she gets a clearer feel for who Jon is.  But ain’t nobody got time for that! Jon and the North are running out of time and he needs help now, so Tyrion asks him if Jon has any other, doable, requests.  Hmm.  Well, ya know…there just happens to be all that dragon glass which Jon came for…

Cut to Dany and Tyrion in the war room as Tyrion talks Dany into allowing Jon to mine the dragon glass as a show of good faith to help win Jon Snow as an ally. It’s a great scene peppered with a handful of funny moments.

Dany goes out to join Jon on the mountain top, and they watch her dragons flying in the distance.  She tells him how people thought dragons didn’t exist anymore, and indicates that perhaps she can be a bit more openminded about other things that sounds impossible.  She lets him know his wish for the dragon glass is granted and that she’ll even provide the necessary resources to mine it.  When Jon asks if this means she believes him in regard to the Whitewalkers, Dany simply tells him he’d better hop to it. Nice dodge, Dany.

Meanwhile at Winterfell, Sansa is totally killing it in the upper management department and is in total doomsday prep mode, making sure they have enough food for the long winter, and the proper armor to fight the army of dead. She has a moment alone with Littlefinger who gives her some unsolicited advice, and we get a peek into the inner workings of his mind.  He tells her that if the North happens to defeat the Whitewalkers and humanity as they know it is saved and intact, she needs to be prepared for what happens afterwards.  He suggests a fabulous pastime that involves imagining every possible scenario that can ever happen at any time, based on whether a person is a friend or an enemy - that way nothing will ever come as a surprise, because she’ll already have lived and seen it in her mind’s eye.  Considering they don’t have Facebook in this world, it sounds like a pretty effective way to stay busy and keep the mind sharp.  So what if it probably makes you paranoid and one of the side effects is that you’ll start making scheme-y faces all the time? And on the plus side, once Sansa is done plotting out every single possible scenario she can think of, she can start writing GOT fan fiction and possibly pitch a spin-off to HBO. Wink, wink.

Littlefinger’s advice session is cut off when they hear a commotion in the courtyard and Sansa is called over.  It’s Bran!  Our little baby’s all grownsed up! Sansa runs over to her bro and hugs him.  It’s a sweet moment and not unlike the reunion with Jon at Castle Black.  I do love a good Stark sibling reunion!

Sansa and Bran have a private chit chat at the Godswood tree. Sansa says she wishes Jon was here for the reunion and Bran throws out as an aside, “Yeah, me too, I have something to tell him”…like what, Bran? Like who his real parents are??? Can somebody please send a raven to Dragonstone, stat, cause it could really help clear things up for Jon during his visit with Auntie Dany right now.  Ok, I digress. Sansa points out that Bran’s the oldest living Stark son, and the rightful Lord of Winterfell.  But her little bro tells her how he’s not the lord of anything, seeing how he is now the Three-Eyed-Raven and she’s like “Wtf does that mean?” Bran tells Sansa he can see everything that has ever happened and also things that are happening now, though only in flashes, and that he’s working on getting better at this ability so he can make sense of things. When he mentions her wedding night, it freaks Sansa out and she excuses herself to go back inside. Bran is eerily calm and dreamy in his demeanor the whole scene and you really start to feel that with all the stuff he’s seen while warging, he seems to be losing a part of his humanity - or at the very least, his own sense of self. 

Rebel, Rebel

At the Citadel, Archmaester Marwyn is examining Ser Jorah’s skin, noting a seemingly remarkable recovery.  Marwyn lets on that he knows exactly what happened, but Jorah is sticking with the story that he just took a nap and started to feel better.  Boom, living proof that naps are good for you! Marwyn confirms that Jorah is fully healed and is good to go on his merry way.  But he tells Sam to visit him in his office later.  Ruh roh, Samwell Tarly, you got some ‘splaining to do! Ser Jorah thanks Sam and tells him he’s going to head back to his Khaleesi.

Later in Marwyn’s office, Sam gets a slap on the hand for disobeying the archmaester.  He asks Sam how he managed to heal Jorah when so many archmaesters who have tried the procedure in the past have failed.  It’s simple really, Sam read and followed the instructions.  In my head, I’m cutting to Gilly saying “You’re like…a wizard!”. The archmaester gives Sam a verbal pat on the back for saving Jorah’s life, and then it’s back to the usual grind: some scrolls need to be copied and Sam is the lucky guy who gets to be a human Xerox machine. Marwyn tells him that if he was expecting a reward for his good deed with Jorah it’s that he isn’t being expelled. Aw, man, Sam can’t get a break.  Very fun scene though.

War Games

Back at Dragonstone, Dany is in the war room with her advisors. She wants to hop on a dragon, find Euron’s fleet and torch it to the bottom of the sea, but everybody talks her out of it.  Even if her dragons are strong and nearly invincible, Dany would endanger herself while riding on Drogon, as anybody could try to shoot her down, and it’s a risk she can’t take.  Tyrion reminds her they need to keep their eye on the prize: the siege of Casterly Rock.

Misandei - who clearly has Grey Worm on the brain after her last steamy encounter with him - asks what’s in store for the Unsullied and so we get a cool action sequence of the invasion while Tyrion narrates what will happen, noting that Casterly Rock has a sewer system that allows access into the impenetrable walls of Tyrion’s childhood home - he designed it himself to sneak whores in, back in his younger days.  We see the Unsullied army fight their way past the gates while a group led by Grey Worm sneaks in via the sewer system.  The Unsullied have soon defeated the Lannister army, but it’s all too easy and there aren’t nearly as many men as they expected.  Grey Worm asks a fallen Lannister soldier where everybody else is, and when he looks up, he sees the Unsullied ships have all been set ablaze.  Well, crap.  That’s twice now that Dany’s plans have been foiled.  Maybe she needs better advisors.

And where, indeed, have all the Lannister soldiers gone? We see the giant army advancing to High Garden, home of the Tyrell family - also the richest family in Westeros.  And leading them are Jaime Lannister along with Randyll Tarly and his son, Dickon. Ugh, sell-outs!  Lady Olenna watches from her room as her home is besieged.  She knows what comes next.  And Cersei has indeed fulfilled her promise to the Iron Bank as her army seizes all that Tyrell gold.

Once the battle is over, Jaime is in Lady Olenna’s room.  The old lady is seated at a table, resigned to her fate.  She asks how she’ll be killed and Jaime tells her he talked Cersei out of the more violent options she had entertained, and that it’ll be a painless death by poison. He pours a vial into her glass, and Lady Olenna swigs it down like a champ. As soon as she has ingested the poison she reveals that it was she who poisoned King Joffrey at his wedding.  Jaime’s face is aghast and Lady Olenna tells him she wants Cersei to know it was her.  Ya gotta hand it to Olenna, sticking it to Cersei one last time. 

Day-um! And there we have it.  Nearly halfway through the season and sh*t be going down! I thoroughly enjoyed this episode. Pretty disapointed for Dany that her advisors couldn’t have thought that Cersei would anticipate the Casterly Rock attack and send the majority of her men to fight the Tyrells.  But it certainly raises the stakes, now that things aren’t looking so easy for Dany and she’s on her own again.  She’d better start making new friends quickly.  Seeing how things turned out for the Martells and Tyrells, however, my guess is that not too many houses will want to cross the reigning queen 

Ok, time for a little chit chat and some theories. There are so many questions I have: Will Jon find out about his true heritage while he’s still at Dragonstone? If so, where does that put him in the line of succession? Does the bastard son of Rhaegar outrank the legitimate daughter as heir to the throne? Not that Jon would want to be king… Is Arya going to make it to Winterfell? I really want to see her wind up killing Cersei while wearing a Jaime face.  When will The Hound and his co-horts meet up with the rest of the players in the North? Surely having some Lord of Light believers will help their cause, but what are they gonna do - pray the snow away?  Will Cersei ever get tired of winning so much? I figure her next move has gotta be to hit Dragonstone whilst ambushing the Unsullied army on their way back from Casterly Rock…oh the possibilities!  I hope Jon and Dany can come to an agreement on an alliance swiftly.  And will Cersei ever be asked to join the fight against the Whitewalkers? It certainly would be in her best interest, though I’m sure any help she offers will be the kind that puts her in aprime position to continue ruling the seven kingdoms once/if the army of dead is defeated.

I definitely want more Bran visions.  I have a half-baked theory that the old three-eyed-raven who lived in the tree is an older version of Bran and he is caught in some crazy time loop. And there are rumors flying around the interwebs that Tyrion is actually also a Targaryen (some believe the Mad King had the hots for Tyrion’s mom, so maybe he raped her? It would explain why Tywin hated him so much).  If so, perhaps we’ll end up seeing Dany, Jon and Tyrion each mounting a dragon and laying waste to the Whitewalkers.  Who knows, maybe Cersei will even throw in some dragon fire for their cause - I’m sure she held onto a few barrels. 

Ok, that’s enough with my musings for now. Until next week, my dears.  And if you happen to see the new Qyburn lipstick collection at your local department store beauty counter, may I suggest the new “Drop Dead Gorgeous” shade? I hear it’s to die for.

#GOTrecaps #the queen's justice #Game of Thrones #GameOfThrones #Season7 #Tyrell #Lannister #Littlefinger #Dragonstone #Danerys #Targaryen #Jorah

[queenpoetry251]

“Down By The Bay” Part 6. (Fictional Love Story series)

(Shanarian is speeding downtown Daphne, blowing her horn, and yelling with road rage to the cars that jump in her way, until she had to suddenly stop.

It was a Mardi Gras parade going on. She immediately make her way on to Hwy. 98, continuing her route to Fish River in Fairhope Al.)

(Darren continues to call me but he has lost reception.)

(Hyrim has made it to Fish River but, he is at the wrong cabin and has no cell phone reception to call out. He continues to ride around the area looking for the location that Shanarian gave him without the help of his cell gps.)

(I made it to the cabin and went inside to make sure everything is nice before Mrs. Long arrive. I’m fluffing sofa pillows and straightening chairs.)

(I’m starring out of the bay windows onto the lake. It’s starting to get dark outside. I hear the door opening.)

“Hello, is that you Mrs. Long?”

“Yes please call me Melissa.” “It’s so nice to finally get to meet you Mrs. Waller.”

“Same here Melissa, we have been playing tag.”

(We shake hands upon meeting)

“Well Melissa this is the kitchen area, it has all new appliances and all the marble has just been installed. The kitchen area also has a bay window with a beautiful view of the lake.”

(I’m pointing to the bay window.)

“This remote control operates the windows, opening and closing them, giving you an outside experience by the lake with just the click of your fingers. It has one in the master bedroom as well. Would you like to see the master now?”

Melissa says, “no please take me out back to the lake.”

“To the lake we go, Melissa I see we have fashion in common. I have that exact outfit and the same jewelry and shoes. You even smell like my perfume.”

“Mrs. Waller I see that we have a lot in common, way more than you know.”

“What do you mean Melissa?”

Melissa yells, “We have Darren in common he was my husband and I know that if you’re dead he will love me and want me!!!!!”

(Melissa’s personality changed as if she was another person.)

(She pulls a gun out on me while I’m standing by the lake.)

“Ok calm down Melissa and put the gun down. Let’s talk about this.”

(Shanarian and Darren finally arrived.)

Darren says, “I hear screaming we have to split up. I’ll go in the cabin and Shanarian you go around back.! ”

Shanarian answers back, “ok.”)

(Gun shots boom, boom!)

(Shanarian pull her gun out of her purse and rush to the lake.)

(One bullet glazed my arm and the second bullet missed.)

(We are fighting over the gun.)

Melissa is screaming,“he will love me! I broke into your house! I stole your clothes and I’m the reason your alarm went off!!!!”

I screamed back, “you are crazy if you think I’m dying tonight.”

(I punched her in her face and lost balance and fell into the lake.)

(Melissa is shooting bullets into the lake trying to shoot me. I’m trying to swim under water long as I can so she will miss me.)

(I hear a loud shot boom and Melissa’s body falls into the water with me.)

(As I came up gasping for air I noticed Shanarian holding her smoking gun.)

Blood is everywhere. Shanarian shot Melissa in her back. Darren came running to the lake. He jumped in and helped me out. He dived back in and got Melissa’s body out. He laid her lifeless body on the grass.)

Hyrim arrived, he begins to cry and yell out “no, no, no, God no that’s my Lisa!!! Get the hell away from my woman Darren!”

(Hyrim starts to give Melissa cpr.)

(The police and paramedics finally arrived. Melissa is being rushed to the hospital.)

(Hyrim push Darren hard. Darren puts Hyrim in the headlock.)

Darren begins to tell him to “calm down man. The lady you call Lisa is my ex wife Melissa. She was trying to kill Ashley and Shanarian had to shoot her.”

(Hyrim breaks from the headlock and push Darren off of him and heads to his car to follow the ambulance to the hospital.)

(Darren begins to hug and kiss me.)

“Queen I love you and I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” says Darren.

(I pushed away from him.)

“So this is why you have been silent with me? This is what you have been keeping from me? Darren, are you freaking crazy?”

“That psycho could have freakin killed me.”

Darren replies, “baby I’m sorry. Let us get you to the hospital to get your arm checked out.”

Shanarian says, “get in the car y'all can fuss on the way to the hospital. Ash you’re soaking wet I will give you some towels out of my trunk, but you’re going to have to take those muddy shoes off before you get in my new car, and wrap your bloody arm up. I’m glad you’re alive but I don’t won’t your blood all over my car either.”

“The police is following us to the hospital to finish taking the statement.”

“Thank God I was just glazed on the arm by the bullet. Shanarian it could’ve been worst.”

(They bandage my arm up. The police got their statement from all of us.)

(Melissa is in a coma. It’s a police guard outside of her hospital room door.)

(Two months have passed.)

(I haven’t talked to Darren. I’m still hurt that he would put me in danger and not tell me.)

(It’s a early Friday summer morning right before sunrise, the May Day pier was cover with people trying to catch the jubilee.

The high tide brought in an abundance of flounder, shrimp, and crabs. They call our water the Bay of the Holy Spirit. Our Jubilee’s are talked about all over the world.)

(Hyrim see Darren gathering fish.)

“Hey man I’m sorry. I was just emotional. It was all so unexpected,” said Hyrim.

Darren replies, “I’m sorry to have put everyone through that. I’m glad everyone is ok.”

Hyrim says, “Lisa I mean Melissa is still in a coma. I know she has mental issues but I check on her because she meant a lot to me and she has no one. The police still guarding her so you guys don’t have to worry.”

“Darren stop being prideful and make Queen talk to you. She love you and she miss you. We’re going to Washington D.C. tonight. Our protest rally is tomorrow morning.”

“You need to get to D. C. and talk to Queen. I will email you a copy of our agenda. We will be heading to The National Museum of African American History and Culture after the rally.”

“So take a break from cleaning fish and smoking brisket and get to Washington. Love is more important,” says Hyrim.

Darren replies, “Ok Dr. Phil.

(they both laugh)

"I will try to get a flight.”

Hyrim says, “Don’t just try, make it happen. I will see you in Washington D.”

(I’m picking up my new clothes from Pryvayl Boutique. My cousin KAnn is the owner of one of the hottest boutiques in Mobile.)

KAnn says, “Queen I know you’re in a hurry to pack for Washington but I feel that you should call D or stop to see him before your flight.”

I’m not going to have time. I know I need to talk to him, maybe I will call him once I’m back here. I have to stay focused on the rally now. I think everything will work out the way that it should.

We never know what the future holds. I love you and I’ll see you later. “ I love you too and have a safe trip Queen.”

(The rally is over in Washington.)

(Me, Hyrim, and Blackness an activist and leader of the protest rally, along with a few other poets are meeting for a late lunch, at a comedy show featuring Mobile Al. Alfred Ward the comedian and the poetry group I’m in, BOBR Mobile Poetry Troupe.)

(Afterwards we all headed to The National Museum of African American History and Culture.)

(I walked off from the group. I needed some alone time. I’m enjoying the museum and learning a lot . I’m reading about a slave poet name Phillis Wheatley.)

“Queen,” says Darren.

(I turn around and look him in his eyes.)

“What are you doing here D?”

He cut me off just as I was getting ready to fuss, and said, “look woman, you’re mine and I’m not spending anymore time away from you!”

“I love you and I know now more than ever that I want you to be my wife!”

(Darren kneels down on one knee. Everyone is starting at us at the museum.)

“Ashley Waller, my queen will you marry me?” Asked Darren. I will never put your life in danger again.“

I responded, "yes D I will be honored to be your wife. I love you and I don’t want to waste anymore time without you in my life.”

(We kiss passionately surrounded by history and a lot of smiling strangers at The National Museum of African American History and Culture.)

(Back in Fairhope Al. at Thomas hospital, Melissa’s eyes popped open wide!)

The End.

Written by Ashley Waller/QueenBlack the Poetess ‪© 2017 ‬

[diddlesanddoodles]

BITTER LEMONS MAKE (GT/Fantasy)

Prologue to Salted Lemonade. 

This monstrosity is a bit shy of 16,000 words. Holy biscuits. I decided to upload the prologue as one big story rather than into short chapters as I originally intended for the sake of simplicity and because I don’t have the patience to upload another story via separate chapters. Also, I am a person who appreciates a good long read, especially GT stories since many tend o be short. And I hope the people who do read my stories appreciate it as well. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy it.

The changing of the leaves brought the first frost of the coming season as well as excited talk of costumes and candy and parties. Recess was spent ogling over the newly released Party City costume insert from last Sunday’s newspaper and fervent discussions on who would go as what or as who. Most of the girls in her class were all fawning over the newest Disney Princess costume. The deluxe one that came with the nicer wig and accessories with a price tag to match. Astrid wanted to be a zombie. Not a princess or something girly like that. A proper and true zombie with blood and guts and lots of cool make up.

But her Mother did not like her daughter’s idea and had been not so subtly suggesting she pick something with more frills and skirts and sequins. To which Astrid had cheekily suggested that she could go as Mrs. Lovette. Her mother shot down the idea after doing a google search on the character.

So as the number 24 bus drove down W. Gulliver Blvd, Astrid was in deep thought about her costume choices. She did not want to go door to door dressed as a floofy cupcake like every other girl in town. Every Halloween since she could rightly remember, Astrid had gone with whatever costume idea her mother had. She never had anything against them because they were always funny or unique. But this year, her mother seemed determined to see her daughter in a puffy pink dress parading around like the Princess of Prussia. All Astrid wanted to be was an undead brain eating monster. Maybe they could compromise and she could be a Zombie princess.

She was jarred from her thoughts when the bus slowed and stopped. Looking up, she saw Rosita’s diner and the shell gas station, a full three blocks from the next bus stop. Her bus stop. A crack of static from the loud speaker drew the attention of the bus passengers and the driver’s voice spoke out.

“Attention all Jessup Road passengers. We got construction on Herald Circle and a wreck blocking Main street, so I’m afraid I’ll be having to drop you off here. Come see me up to the front when disembarking and I shall issue you a refund receipt.”

With a sigh, Astrid pulled on her jacket and slipped her yellow backpack onto her shoulders before slipping off the hard plastic seat, standing aside as a young man in a high school jersey nudged passed her. Following the young man, an elderly woman with a two wheeled hand cart filled with groceries, and a businessman with a cell phone pressed to his ear, Astrid collected her refund receipt.

His bored and lazy expression sharpened into something resembling mild concern s as Astrid waited, hand outstretched for her receipt.

“You live close by, kid?” he asked.

“Yeah. Off of Comly.”

“Oh, okay. Well, tell your folks to go to that URL on the back and sign into your account. Follow the prompts and put in that code, it’ll refund your buss pass,” said the driver, handing her a small slip of paper. She muttered a quiet thank you and stepped off the warm bus into the chilly air. She could cut through the strip mall and walk down Forrest St and walk straight into her backyard. She would be home in five minutes.  

The young man in the high school jersey and matching jacket seemed to have had the same idea and was heading towards the strip mall. He had paused by the window to the Hibbett’s Sports and by the time he had moved on, Astrid had caught up, passing him by. After the Michael’s craft store, there was the large expansive overflow parking lot. There was a few semi trucks parked off to the side and a few employee cars, but it was mostly empty. The high school boy’s legs were much longer than her own and by the time they were almost half way across the asphalt, he had passed her again. He flashed her a smarmy lopsided grin. Astrid scrunched her nose and stuck her tongue out at the back of his head.

Under her sneakers, the ground shivered. Stopping, Astrid looked around her and hearing something jingle, she looked up at the light post. She could see it sway slightly. The young man had stopped too and was glancing around curiously.

“Oh man,” he said with an excited grin. “That was an earthquake!”

The ground shivered again. And bucked. And swayed. Astrid cried out as she fell to her knees, unable to keep on her feet as everything that should not be moving was moving.

“Ah, cool!” yelled the older boy, his excitement was nearly palpable. “This is awesome!”

Astrid was no where near as excited as he was at experiencing her first earthquake. There was nothing as sturdy and as present and solid as the ground a person walked on and to feel it move and buck like a horse was terrifying. And she would very much like for it to stop.

However, instead of complying to the wishes of a fourth grader, it got worse. There was a crack like the sound of a whip somewhere nearby, and the wind started to kick up. Astrid watched the dirt and small rocks fly about in the wind as it began to turn and twist and there came a sudden shift in the strength of the wind’s spin. She felt herself sliding as the twisting air pulled at her. Her bare hands batted feebly at the ground, trying to find purchase. She heard the older boy scream as he lost his balance and fell hard on the ground and too began to slid towards the eye of the cyclone. Their fear filled eyes met for the briefest of moments before the surface below them dropped away and the pair fell into the nothingness.

…………….

The nothingness gave way to sound and air and an uncomfortable tightness in her chest. She gasped for breath and tumbled into the dirt. She heard the sound of someone gasping loudly and suspected it to be the older boy.

“Uuugh,” he muttered. “Augh, my chest.”

She whined in feeble agreement, rubbing her sternum as she pushed up from the ground. It felt as though someone had punched her. There was a pungent smell of pine that greeted her next inhale of air and she raised her head, curious. Her stomach clenched. All around were trees taller than any she had ever seen. The seemed to stretch high above them like hands reaching up to block the sky. Their sharp needled branches, looking like tiny clawed fingers against the orange light of the dying sun.  

Wait. Sunset? Astrid glanced at her cell phone. 3:22 PM. And no signal. The strip mall was no where in sight. In fact, the only thing she could see were the huge trees. Trees and dirt and rocks.  

“Where the hell...?” asked the boy aloud, sitting up from where he had been laying. “Crap...these trees are freakin’ huge!”

Carefully pulling herself up from the dirt, Astrid rose to her feet and winced against several new aches. Her backpack was a familiar and comforting weight against her back and shoulders.

“Hey. Do you have a cell phone, kid?” The boy asked. In his hands, he held a thin white iphone.  

“Yeah,” she replied, flashing him a small black brick that was her prepaid Nokia. “But no bars.”

“Me neither. Damn,” he replied, glaring at the useless piece of metal in his hands. “Well. This day has been very weird.”

Astrid nodded numbly, still starring at the trees and wondering how such giant things could exist. And a though struck her.

“I think I know where we are!” She exclaimed, excited at her genius.

“Where?” asked the boy, a hopeful glint in his brown eyes.

“California!”

The hopeful glint was replaced with an incredulous raising of an eyebrow. “California.”

“Yeah.”

“Suuuure. We just magically popped across the country. California is like...500 miles away!”

“But the trees,” she replied with a huff. “They’re big.”

“I noticed that.”

“And they have big trees in California.”

A spark of recognition hit him. “Oh! The redwoods!”

“Yeah!”

“Hey, you might not be wrong,” he replied. “But still. How the hell did we get to California?”

………………………………..

If she thought the weirdest thing that had ever happened to her was being magically being tossed across the country, Astrid was in for a troubling development. In the form of a thirty foot fence.

After several moments of standing around uselessly with plenty of indecisive grumbling as to what to do, they ultimately decided to pick a direction and start walking for as long as the light held out. Despite conventional wisdom telling them that it would have been better to stay where they were. They reasoned that no one would be searching for them in the Redwood nation forest when they would be reported missing several states away. So best go find a park ranger or something. Before it got dark.

So when their path was abruptly blocked by what appeared to them as a wall of chicken wire, they were confused.

“Who builds such a huge fence out of chicken wire?” the boy, Tommy, mused bitterly. Astrid ran two fingers along the metal. The wire itself was thick. Thicker that the power cord to her Grandpa’s shop vac and though the weave of the metal did resemble chicken wire, it was much sturdier and did not have near the give and sway that she normally associated it. “Damn, this thing’s tall too.”

“What do we do?” Astrid asked, starting to feel sweaty and dirty. A hot bath sounded good. And a sandwich. She was getting hungry.

“I say we follow it,” Tommy shrugged. “I mean, it’s gotta lead somewhere right?”

It was starting to get dark and the temperature was dropping fast. Her plush red flannel jacket was keeping her warm enough, but her face was chilled and she was rubbing feeling back into her nose and cheeks. The denim of her jeans was stiffening in the cold. She followed after Tommy as he continued on down the fence line. After about an hour, she noticed to her other side more fencing. They seemed to be coming to a point where the fences met.

“Hey, look!” Tommy exclaimed, pointing ahead. “There’s a gap there.”

Sure enough, just where one would expect the two fences to meet was a generous sized gap. A gate perhaps? Tommy jogged ahead, leaving Astrid to toddle along behind. The boy’s long legs brought him quickly over to the gap, kicking up forest debris as he went. Astrid saw the faint orange light of the setting sun bounce off a reflective surface, hidden under pine needles and dirt. Curious, she walked over to it and as she got close enough to see that it was indeed metal, there was a faint clink from under her sneaker and there came a horrendous crashing of metal and screaming hinges. She screamed as walls rose from from every direction and snapped shut, tossing Astrid backwards. Her shoulders slammed into metal bars.

“What the crap was that?!” Tommy yelled, whirling around. His eyed widened. “Holy-! Oh god, are you okay?!”

Astrid’s entire field of vision was framed by bars. Metal bars. Cage bars. It was a cage. She was in a cage. It took several long moments for this fact to sink in and Tommy was already at the cage, pulling on what he assumed to be a door. There was a huge bolt keeping it closed. Four feet long and several inches thick. It looked as though it could weigh an easy 100 lbs. No matter how hard Tommy yanked on it, it would not move.

Astrid was on her feet, pulling and pushing every piece that looked like it might move. But nothing did.  Suddenly, there was a bright flash of blue light, startling both of them. Atop the cage was a blue light that blinked and fluttered like a police car light.

“Please, get me out!” Astrid pleaded. The belated sense of panic was taking root in her mind now. It had been easy to be enthralled by the bizarre circumstances, let the novelty and wonder take precedent. But now accumulating evidence was beginning to leave her terrified. The trees were huge. The fence was huge. This cage was huge. She felt small and helpless. She wanted out. She wanted to go home.

“I don’t want to be here anymore! I want to go home!” Astrid cried.

Tommy bent down to her level, looking at her through the bars. He looked almost as terrified as she felt. “Look, just...uh, calm down. Okay? You’re gonna be fine. I’m gonna...” he trialed off, looking around hopelessly and then up at the blinking light. “I’m gonna try and find someone...I’ll...”

He stepped back, starring at the sky. His own sense of wonder and awe was gone as well. Replaced by panic and fear.

“HELP!” He screamed up at the sky. “SOMEBODY! PLEASE!”

“Help!” Astrid added, though she could not manage near the volume.

“ANYBODY OUT THERE?” Tommy yelled.

They carried on for a good while, screaming at empty air for help. But then, from the near silent forest came a familiar sound. A welcomed sound. Foot steps. The wave of relief was acutely palpable and Astrid almost sobbed in relief.

“Hello!” Tommy yelled, walking towards the sound. “Is somebody there?”

“Aye. That’d be me,” replied a calm voice. It echoed oddly, but both Tommy and Astrid were so relieved to have finally been found to notice. The prospect of going home filled Astrid and her face broke out into a wide happy grin. She would go home and tell her mother that she would gladly wear the gaudiest, fluffiest, pinkest princess dress she could find and go trick or treating with a skip in her step.

Tommy was almost laughing with relief. “Mind giving us a hand? Some freaking nutcase set these giant traps and my friend’s stuck inside.”

There was a laugh, a low chuckle, and the foot steps got closer and closer. And louder and louder. A dark shape amongst the trees drew their focus. It was large. Tall. Impossibly tall. The footfalls were much louder now and tremors shook the ground.

The joy of being found was starting to fade and uncertainty took hold. Fear bubbled back.

The dark shape stepped up to the gap in the fence and the dying light cast them in a deep orange light. It was man like in body, but in size it was monstrous. As she starred, everything seemed to suddenly click in Astrid’s mind. The impossibly tall trees. The thirty foot fence. This absurd cage she was trapped in. And now, a mere 100 meters away, stood a giant.

An honest to goodness giant.

He was slightly shorter than the fence, but not by much. Easily twenty something feet. Appearing middle aged with brown hair and dull gray eyes. His ears were large and laughably shaped with shared similarities to those of an elf. He was dressed in a long dark coat with something strung across his back and at his side was what appeared to be a dog. An eight foot tall dog. Lithe and thin snouted with long shaggy black fur and piercingly blue eyes. It sat on its haunches, calmly watching. “Sorry to put a damper on things, little fella...”

Both Tommy and Astrid froze and their eyes widened as their brains struggled to process what they were seeing.

“But, y’see,” continued the giant with a smirk, flashing a set of wickedly sharp canines. “I’d be that freakin’ nutcase who set them traps.”

An alarming sense of nausea took over everything. Astrid felt like her insides were being pulled down to the bottom of her feet. Adrenaline sparked through her limbs, making her hands tingle. The giant was watching them, taking in their much smaller forms and smiling enigmatically all the while. The large dog at his side did not move, but its blue eyes never left their trained focus. On Tommy.

“Gotta say, you two are mighty lucky I happened by this section,” said the giant brightly as he stepped closer. Tommy visibly recoiled and took several cautious steps back. Astrid shrank back to the furthest end of the cage. The giant took little to no notice. “Don’t come down this way much anymore. Haven’t seen anything pop through here for almost a year. Figured the partition healed or something. But here you are. Heh. And two of you as well! Must’ve been quite a collapse to suck two of you lil’ snippets up in one go.”

“Look, uh...sir. We don’t want any trouble,” Tommy said, voice cracking.

“And I ain’t here to bring any to you,” replied the giant simply, his shoulders rising and falling in a lazy shrug. “So long as you cooperate, that is.”

“Please,” Tommy continued, a desperate lilt coloring his words. Worried eyes flickered over to Astrid and back to the giant, one shaky hand gesturing to the trapped girl. “Just...let her out. We’re just trying to get home, sir. We just want to go home. Please.”

The giant’s overall pleased demeanor faltered and his eyebrow narrowed every so slightly. The curl of his smile withered. “Ain’t no goin’ home for you two now. Best come to terms with that. Make it easy for yourselves.”

“W-what do you...” Tommy muttered with a narrowing of his brow and taking a deliberate step back. “ You can’t keep us here. Of course we’re going home!”

The giant regarded the pair for a moment and his expression changed to amusement. He stifled a laugh. “Not unless you figured out how to rip space and time apart, navigate the inbetween, and rearrange your own atoms back together in the proper order and in the correct location.”

Both humans were struck dumb.

“It’d be a mighty neat party trick,” added the giant. “Pay good money to see that.”  

Astrid felt decidedly sick and her breathing was becoming erratic as she began to panic. Tommy did not seem much better.

“So, how about we wrap this up, hm? It’s gettin’ mighty late,” the giant said, striding purposefully towards them now. “And it’s nearly dinner time.”

Images of every monster movie she had ever seen flashed in Astrid’s head. Gnashing teeth and buckets of blood, glass shattering screams, and the long pained death throws of the doomed victims. All of it was wrapped in the form a twenty something foot man who making his way straight for them.

She turned to Tommy and yelled. “RUN!”

The older boy did not even spare her a glance before he turned and bolted away, his long legs and adrenaline filled veins carrying him far and fast in a manner of mere moments. Astrid heard the giant release a long frustrated sigh. “Silly boy.”

“Knew it,” quipped a new voice from behind the giant. But all Astrid saw was the dog.

“Tippan,” the giant said, glancing over his shoulder at the dog. “Fetch.”

“He looked like a runner,” replied the dog. Astrid had only the briefest moment to marvel, or tremble, at the prospect of a talking dog – a talking eight foot tall dog – before she watched in horror as the large hound bolted off after Tommy. 

“Now then,” came the giant’s voice much closer than Astrid remembered and she turned and found him kneeling over the cage and peering down at her. “Let’s get you settled away, sweetheart.”

Astrid pressed herself into the far back corner, staring up at the enormous figure. She felt hot tears streaming down her face and her breath was caught in her throat. He dipped his shoulder and slipped off a large square pack from his back. In the dim light it was hard to really tell, but it looked like it was made of boiled red leather. On the side facing Astrid, she could see a small window cut out. It looked like something a person would carry a pet in. Or something a giant would keep captured humans in. He studied her for a moment and his eyes narrowed in concentration.

“Well I’ll be damned. A kit!” said the giant in astonishment and he leaned down closer. He smiled. “Never had one fall through before. Huh. You’re just a little smidgen of a thing, aren’t you?”

“Please don’t eat me!” she begged, starring up at him with wide terrified eyes.

His grin widened and he huffed a laugh. “Eat you? Oh, sweetie. As scrumptious as you look, that’s not why I’m here.”

The large bolt that she and Tommy had struggled to move earlier was easily and effortlessly pulled out and the door popped open. A hand crept inside. Astrid curled into herself, covering her head with her arms and whimpered in sheer terror, waiting for the hand to grab her, for fingers to tear her limbs from her body, and for teeth to crush her bones.

“Aw, now. Don’t be like that, little darlin’,” said the giant. “You’re breakin’ my heart here.”

She felt something brush her side and she cried out and tried to scramble away, but large fingers easily wrapped around her and drew her out of the metal trap. Her arms were pinned to her sides, but her legs were free and she kicked uselessly at open air. The giant chortled in amusement.

“Lively one you are,” he muttered. She watched his other hand travel over to the red leather pack and peel back the flap. The inside was divided into two sections with enough room in each one for a person – a human – to stand. He then lowered Astrid into one of the compartments, closing the flap after her and sealing her in. She immediately dropped to floor and curled up. Her heart was beating so fast and it didn’t feel like she could get enough air into her lungs. From the outside, she heard a noise and the giant speak.

“Good work, Tippan.”

She could hear Tommy grunting and swearing. Astrid struggled back to her feet and pressed her face against the window cut out in the leather. There was a kind of black mesh covering the gap and the weave was large enough for her to see out.

The hound had Tommy in it’s mouth, the poor boy’s torso and legs dangling off either side while the jaws of the enormous animal were firmly clenched around his middle. Astrid wanted to scream, but she was relieved that there was no blood and Tommy did not appear to be in any pain. Mostly angry.

The giant held his hands out and the dog leaned forward and allowed the unhappy human to tumble from his mouth and into the waiting hands. Unlike Astrid, Tommy did not freeze up at the sight of the giant. He struggled and kicked and tried valiantly to pull himself from between fingers thick as man’s thigh.

“Let me go you fucking-!”

“Hey now. What happened to all them please’s and sir’s?”

“They fucked off!”

“Now, now. Calm yourself. No need to get all -OW!”

Tommy dropped to the dirt with an ‘oof!’ and was on his feet and running again, but he did not get very far, only a few feet, before the dog – Tippan -  pounced on him and pinned him to the dirt. The dog gave a low growl, a warning, before lifting its head back towards its master.  

“Okay there, Faro?” asked Tippan. “Did he get you good?”

“Nah. Didn’t even draw blood,” the giant, Faro, remarked and winced. “Still smarts a bit, though.”

Tippan huffed what might have been a laugh. “Serves you right for not having your gloves.”

The giant scowled at the dog while rummaging through a side pocket on the pack. He pulled out what looked like lengths of leather and something else that Astrid could not see.

“Just keep him still for me,” Faro replied as he brought the object in his hands over to the trapped human. The giant’s bulk blocked most of what he was doing, but Astrid could hear Tommy cursing and struggling. Faro seemed to be having a little trouble doing whatever it was he was doing, because he kept muttering for Tommy to calm down or to stop wiggling.

“There!” The giant exclaimed finally. Tippan stepped back and the giant turned towards the pack, granting Astrid a look a Tommy. His arms were crossed over his chest and pinned there with leather straps and the way he squirmed, Astrid assumed that they were a bit snug. But the most startling thing was not him being tied up. No. It was that contraption around his face. A small metal cage around his mouth secured with more leather straps and other bindings.

The giant had muzzled him.

“Really hate to use this thing on you, little fella,” Faro said as he lifted the forcibly pacified human. “But I can’t have you nibbling on my fingers like that.”

Tommy did not answer. He did not even swear. He looked broken. His eyes were wide and they glistened with frustrated tears. The flap above Astrid was pulled aside and she looked up to see the giant bringing Tommy over and lowering him gently down into one of the other compartments. Before the giant closed it up again, his eyes drifted over to her and settled on her for a moment. And then he closed the flap, snapping it closed. They were left in almost absolute darkness with the only light coming in from the mesh window. But by now the sun had all but set completely and whatever light was left did not make it through the mesh much at all. Astrid slid back down to the floor of the pack just as the entire thing rose into the air, tilting alarmingly to the side as the giant strung it across his back.

She hugged herself and tried to hold back a sob.

……………………………

“What is that noise?” asked an irritated Tippan.

“It’s the kit,” said Faro. “Little thing’s scared is all.”

“Well, can you get it to stop?”

“Have a heart, Tippan. She’s probably just callin’ for her Mum.”

“Well, her Mum ain’t gonna be answering.”

“The kit doesn’t know that. She’ll stop soon. Just be patient.”

Astrid ignored the two larger voices and continued sobbing into her kneecaps. The swaying and bouncing of the pack did not help and was a continued reminder of everything that had happened. She knew just on the other side of the pack was Tommy. The high school boy who had been pulled into this mess along with her. She couldn’t understand how he wasn’t audibly crying as well. The giant had sicced his hell hound after him and even muzzled him! She wanted to call out to him, ask him if he was alright, but she was afraid the giant or his hound would hear her. And in any case, Astrid was not sure she could muster coherent words at the moment.

They continued on for a good while in this manner, but as the giant had foretold to his hound, Astrid went quiet after a time. She felt everything and numb all at once. She idly wondered if this was what it felt like for your brain to break. Every physical sensation felt magnified. The sway of her cage. The texture of the pack’s lining, the smell of the air inside it, and pressure of gravity pressing down on her into the cushioned bottom. But inside, her head was alarmingly silent. No emotions were felt. No thoughts heard. Tears were drying on her face and she starred unblinking out the mesh lines window. It was too dark to see anything, but the chilled air from outside would push through ever so often and chill her face with a breezy kiss. She smelled pine and dirt and leather. Foreign and disturbing.

The trees she watched through the window were suddenly illuminated with faint yellow light that brightened the further the giant walked, approaching the source of the light.    

“And here we are,” said Faro with warmth in his voice. “Home sweet home.”

“Finally,” said Tippan. “Food and sleep!”

“First thing’s first,” said Faro as Astrid heard more than saw him climb a short set of stairs. “Gotta settle the humans away.”

Tippan moaned. “Can’t we do that tomorrow? I’m tired. And hungry. Just toss ‘em in the kennel and feed me!”

The giant laughed.

“You haven’t done anything today!” There was the sound of metal clinking together that Astrid recognized as keys. She could hear him push one into what she assumed was the lock on a door. Sure enough after there came the sound of a key turning and a lock clanking and then there was the distinct sound of a door opening. She felt the back of her mind tingle as the numbness gave way to a torrent of emotions. There was fear and dread, but down below all that was a faint curiosity for which she almost felt ashamed.  

“I chased down the runner,” argued Tippan, sounding hurt. “And just so you know, that one’s pretty fast. Might not have caught him so easily if he hadn’t tripped.”

“In any case, we’ll still need to settle them away first. Gotta follow protocol,” Faro replied.  “I’m not gonna leave the little fella muzzled and hog-tied all night.”

“You could.”

“I’m not, though.”

“Might teach the twerp not to bite,” Tippan sighed dramatically. “Alright, boss. Have it your way.”

Astrid watched through the window as the giant walked into the house and was reminded of the time she and her family went camping in Montana. They stayed in a log cabin with walls that looked very similar to the walls of the giant’s home. Even the smell was similar. For the most part. There was an oddly sour scent to the air mixed with the smells of the natural wood that she could not place. The walls were sparsely decorated with small shelves covered in odd nick knacks. A painting of a waterfall. An elaborately made clock carved from wood and brightly painted. The numbers were replaced with strange symbols.

The pack swung sideways as the giant slipped if off and setting it down onto a table, made from the same wood as the walls. She heard the clasp on the outside snap and the flap was pulled away. Her dark corner of the pack lit up. There was a scuffling noise from the other side of the pack and she heard Tommy curse. In response, she looked up in time to see the giant pulling Tommy out. He closed the flap back down, but did not lock it.

She peered out of the window to see Faro holding Tommy in one hand so his legs dangled off the edge of the palm and supporting the human’s back with the other. The giant was looking at him sternly.

“You’re gonna behave now, aren’t you?”

She saw Tommy nod fervently.

“Good. Because I’m gonna take this off you. But believe me, if you get snippy again, I won’t hesitate to put it back on. And it won’t be coming off for a good while. Understand me?”

Again, Tommy nodded.

Faro sat Tommy down on his feet and undid the leather bindings, sliding the muzzle off. Tommy’s face was pale and his hands were shaking. The giant sat down in a chair facing Tommy, dropping the leather and muzzle into a heap off to the side. Wordlessly, he reached into his coat and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. He popped the pen’s top off, set the tip to the paper, and gazed at the trembling human.

“What’s your name, little fella?”

“T-thomas Contini, sir.”

The giant took a note, the edges of his mouth twinges in a small grin.

“How old are you, Thomas?”

“I’m seventeen, sir.”

Another note.

“Know your blood type by chance?”

“My blood…? Uh. Yeah. O negative.”

“Good,” replied the giant. “Not many of you tend to know.”

More notes.

“Any allergies?”

“N-no.”

“Illnesses?”

“No. Not really.”

“Yes or no, Thomas.”

“No. No illnesses.”

The giant was silent as he wrote several more notes, glancing up at the human ever so often as though he was not completely confident that he would not bolt at any moment.

“C-can I ask...why you want to know...all that?” Tommy stammered.

“It’s not so much as wanting to know than needing to know. For your records.”

“My...records?”

“Oh just spell it out for him,” Tippan snapped. “Sooner you’re done, the sooner I eat!”

Faro sighed as he sat the pen down and pinned the boy with a look. “Answer me this, Thomas,” he said. “Do you know where you are?”

Tommy fidgeted, looking around warily. “Uh...in your house?”

The giant grinned. “In a larger sense than that.”

“...C-california?”

The giant rolled his eyes. “No. You’re not in Kali Fonia. So many of you humans say that. I’m tempted to start keeping a count. No. You’re no longer on you’re original plane.”

“Original plane? I...I don’t understand.”

The giant leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “What’s the last thing you remember before waking up in the woods?”

“There was...an earthquake and it got really windy and...”

The giant nodded. “What you experienced, Thomas, is what we here call a Partitional Rip. Or a collapse. Happens when the membranes of our mutual planes come in contact with one another repeatedly and over time the area becomes weakened and imbalanced. With all things needing to be equal, the energies must correct themselves and that is what causes a Partitional Rip. A portal opens up on your side of the plane and more often than not, one or more of you little buggers are sucked in, passed through the inbetween, and dropped down into our plane.”  

Tommy looked ill as he absorbed the information. “So...when you said we weren’t going home…?”

“I meant that there’s no possible way to get you home. You’re here because cosmic energy needed to balance themselves and used you, and you’re little friend there, as counter weights.”

“So...if we’re not...on Earth, where are we?”

“Still called Earth. We never had a word for the actual world, it was just the world to us. But about, oh, three hundred years ago or so we adopted the Anglish word for it. But beyond that, in a more literal sense, you’re in Audenvier. North Audenvier, Caidence Valley. On my ranch. In my house and on my table.”  

There was a pause and Tommy squinted up at Faro.

“...Anglish?”

“That’d be you. You’re Anglish.”

“Uh...I’m Italian…?”

Faro huffed a laugh. “Anglish just means you’re light skinned. As apposed to being Berunti, Piq, or Savoh.”

Tommy ran a hand through his hair and looked all around him, everywhere but the giant. Almost as though he were searching for an alternative to the piece of knowledge that Faro had just unladen upon him, his breathing became deep and near panic when none presented itself. Finally he looked to Faro, his eyes watering.

“So,” he choked. “...what happens now?”

“For you?” Faro asked, the humor gone from his eyes. “A change of clothes, something to eat, and then sleep. Actually, when we’re done here I’ll be doing those same things myself.”

“A change of clothes? W-why?”

“Part of my job is to collect anything wild humans bring in with them. Folks with long titles and expensive degrees wanna study them.”

The human was gaping incredulously at the large man across from him. “Wild?”

“Any human that comes here due to a Partitional Rip is considered wild,” he explained. “Meaning you were not born in captivity or hand raised.”

“Captivity? Like...like animals and shit?”

The giant looked exasperated for a moment and seemed to consider something. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Allow me to explain the greater idea here: on my ranch, there are seven weaken areas where collapses occur. I set up traps around those areas so when a human does pops through, I get to them before any predators do.”

“Predators? Like what-”

The giant frowned. “Don’t interrupt me, Thomas.”

“S-sorry...”

“As I was saying: I’m a human trapper. That’s what I do for a living. I bring any humans I catch back here to my house, take their basic information down like I just have with you, and get them ready to be sent to the closest clinic for further evaluation. If everything goes well there, you’ll be put up for adoption by the end of next week.”

“A-adoption?” Tommy asked, the word seemed to tumble clumsily from his lips. “You don’t mean like...a pet, do you?”

“Exactly.”

“Humans are pets here?!” Tommy looked ready to bolt again and the giant seemed to sense it too. He brought his arms to rest on either side of the distraught human. Tommy flinched at Faro’s movements and was still, standing rigid and scared as he stared into the giant’s face.  

“That’s right,” he told the boy simply. “Highly prized too. The waiting lists in some counties can be astronomical to speak nothing of the vetting process. There’s an expression along the lines of it’s easier to be elected to office than to adopt a human. Hardly true, but the paperwork to be approved it quite extensive.”

“I...I...ah...I’m...” Tommy rubbed his face, struggling hard with the idea.

“It’s alright. Normal to feel oddly about it.”

“Normal to feel odd?” Tommy yelled. “That’s the most underrated statement of the year!”

“Perhaps to you at this moment. But I give this speech a few times a month. For the last fifteen years.”

“W-why though? Why pets?!”

“Long time ago, we mostly left you humans alone to do whatever you did out in the woods like any other living creature. But then your numbers started to drop and at one point there were almost no humans left at all. Disease, predators, low birth rates. It all ran a hard number on the population. Governments stepped in to try and rescue your species and over time, it evolved into a pet trade. If you get adopted by a historian, he’d be able to explain the minutia of it all. But even now human populations are still vastly smaller than they were even a hundred years ago. You’re a heavily protected species here.”

“What if I don’t want to. Be a pet, I mean. Do I get any say in this?”

“You wanna go try and live out in the woods on your own?” The giant seemed very amused a this idea. “You don’t strike me as very outdoorsy. Ever meet a Rhwren? Or a Mountain Roc? Because they’d be very happy to meet you. And the feeling won’t be mutual.”

“I guess they’re those predators you mentioned earlier?”

“Yup. They’d swallow a little thing like you up without a second thought.”

“I just...really do not like the idea of being someone’s pet.”

“I will never understand you wild humans aversion to the idea,” Tipppan added from somewhere below the table. “Being a pet’s great. Free food, warm bed, and belly rubs! What is to hate about that?”

“It’s a perfectly normal response, Tippan. Most wild humans hate the idea, at first at least. A certain portion of you fail the evaluation to be adopted in any case.”

The human boy looked ready to faint. “What happens when you fail an evaluation?”

The giant chuckled and raised a hand slowly up towards Tommy and lightly petted him on the head. Tommy, for his part, looked utterly lost as to how to respond and ended up merely allowing the contact, but went absolutely rigid under the giant finger’s ministrations.

“Oh, don’t look so forlorn,” said the giant. “Nothing bad. Typically, they’re sent to a zoo or a sanctuary. And getting back to the changing clothes, we do this for two reasons. The first being what I said about folks wanting to study it. Second, is to help with your transition. Make the break a little easier.”

“I...I don’t understand. I’m sorry, but I...” The giant’s hand was still at his head, lightly petting the messy mop of dark hair. Faro’s dull gray eyes stared at the boy, looking sympathetic, but there was something in his expression that made it seem like he was very accustomed to consoling overwrought humans.

“The kindest thing I can do for you right now, Thomas, is to get you prepared for the next step. The life you knew when you woke up this morning is gone. Forever. And you can think me cruel for saying so. Plenty of humans have and do. After all, I am paid to catch and sell you lot. No use mincing words or dancing around the truth of it. You’re not the first human to take a nip at me. Or even the worst, not by a long shot.” The giant used the crook of one finger to gently brush back Tommy’s hair. “But you’re still young. Young ones bounce back easier. You have a good chance to to get into a good home with a good family and find some peace in all this. Just try and keep that in mind as you go through all these steps.”

Tommy’s shoulder shook as he began to sob. “So...it’s real. This is really happening. I’m never gonna see my family again, am I? Ever?”

“No,” was the simple response. “I’m afraid not.”

…………………..

Tommy was near inconsolable for several moments. While the boy broke down on the table top, the giant got up and disappeared for a few minutes before returning with some items. He sat them down in front of Tommy.

“I know you’re feeling poorly right now,” said the giant. “And truth be told, you’ll feel like this for a good while. No one thinks this is an easy process for you. Certainly not me. But the sooner we get on, the sooner you get something to eat and then its off to bed. Might not sleep much, but you’ll have a quiet moment to sort out yourself. I’ll need you to remove your clothes, though. Got something here for you to change into. It gets cold here and this’ll keep you warm.”

Tommy looked like he wanted to protest, a bubble of indignation rising up, but it was quickly swarmed by utter despair. With slow, reluctant movements, he began to shed his jacket, his jersey, and then his jeans before putting them into a small bag the giant held open for him. His cell phone went in as well his wallet and a pack of unopened gum. Soon he was standing there in only a pair of blue boxers, looking up at the giant expectantly.  

Faro shook his head. “All of it, Thomas.”

The boy blanched and began to stammer. “I-I can’t even keep my damn underwear?!”

“Afraid not.”  

For a moment, indignation won out over fear and he was angrily muttering to himself, looking all around and back at the giant, his face red. “W-well, can you at least turn around? Let me keep some shred of my dignity? Or does that go in the bag too?”

“That much I can do,” replied the giant, grinning. He reached over to the pile of items and pulled out a single garment, dyed black. “Put this on when you’re done.”

Tommy was beet red in the face as he quickly ripped off his boxers and kicked them off before hurriedly scampering into the new clothes. It took his a moment to figure out the zipper as it was not where he expected it to be. Instead of down the front or up the back, it ran the length of the inside of one leg, across the groin, and down the other. After he finished zipping it up, he rolled his boxers into a ball and angrily shoved them into the bag with the rest of his belongings. He starred at the contents of the bag, looking torn. He sighed heavily.

“Done,” he said lowly.

The giant turned around and spared the boy a smile. He grabbed up the bag and pulled a white adhesive strip from the side before folding the top over and sealing it, quickly writing something on the outside of the bag before dropping it somewhere out of sight. Bending down closer to Tommy’s level, he regarded the freshly dressed boy. “Just remember what I told you and you’ll be fine. Might seem bad now. But trust me. It’ll get better.”

“Doesn’t look like I got much choice,” Tommy replied dejectedly.

The giant just sighed and stood back up to his full height, hands reaching out for the human once more. Tommy looked nervous at the giant hands, but did not struggle when they carefully gathered him up.

The giant strode away from the table and disappeared beyond Astrid’s range of sight.

……………….

Astrid remained silent and still at the bottom of the pack compartment. There was an unpleasant tightness in her chest and every breath she took seemed to send shivers down her body. Faro’s words echoed hauntingly in her head.

Fifteen or so minutes later, the giant returned. He was balancing two white plates in one arm while the other held onto a bundle of white fabric. With careful movements, he set the plates down first and then the bundle. One plate was piled high with a mysterious goopy meat mixture and the other was a slice of dark bread, two oily fish, and the biggest lemon Astrid had ever laid eyes on, three times the size of a large watermelon easily. The giant picked the plate with the goopy meat mixture and sat it on the floor.

“Finally!” Tippan said happily and there came the sound of joyous gluttony from below the table. “Food, food, food! Oh glorious food!”

Faro chuckled as he turned his attention to the red leather pack.

“Now it’s your turn, little one,” said the giant and he pulled the flap open and peered inside. Astrid did not meet his gaze, but sniffed miserably as she fought back more tears. She felt the heat of his hands first and then the meaty flesh as it curved around her and lifted her up with a careful and deliberate slowness. He sat her down on the table just as he had with Tommy and Astrid got her first proper view of the cabin. It was not a large space compared to the giant that lived there, but there was an unmistakably homey feeling about it. Off in one corner there was a stone fireplace and a large squishy chair. A shelf with a modest collection of books and assorted chachkies. A short hallway lead further into the house.

She heard him sit down and it was only then that she looked up. Now that she got a proper look at him in adequate light, she noted that his brown hair had streaks of gray in it and his chin was scratchy with stubble. His gray eyes were trained on her and she noted the minute movements of the irises as he studied her. Releasing a sigh through his nose, the giant tilted his head at her. “You heard all I told Thomas?”

She nodded meekly.

“Have any questions?”

She sucked in a breath, preparing to answer, but thought better of it and released it as a resigned sigh. Questions. She had millions. And none at the same time. Astrid shook her head. Faro nodded knowingly and reached for the pen and paper once more.

“Well, I’m gonna be askin’ you the same questions, alright? So, let’s start with the easiest one: What’s you’re name?”

“...Astrid,” she replied, her voice barely a squeak.

“Need your full name, sweetie.”

“Astrid Malloy.”

“And how old are you, Astrid?”

“Ten and a quarter.”

The giant paused to look at her and for the first time, seemed surprised and genuinely sad.  

“Younger than I thought. Hm.” He made an extra line of notes, reaching over to his plate and grabbing the lemon. Astrid watched in confusion as he took a large bite out of it, flashing his sharp teeth for a moment before they sunk into the yellow flesh of the fruit. His face did not pucker in the slightest. He chewed for several moments, gazing at his notes, deep in thought, before swallowing and asking, “Do you know what blood type you are?”

She shook her head, still watching in bizarre fascination. The giant nodded, setting the fruit down. “Alright. Well, I will need to know. So for us to find out, we’re gonna use this here.”

He pulled out a small egg shaped device from the pile of items he had brought in before. It was the size of a basketball with a small hole on one end and a digital read out on the other. He held it out in front of Astrid. “See that little hole there? Just put your index finger inside and the machine will do the rest.”

Astrid looked at the device and carefully raised her hand towards it and stuck her finger in the aforementioned hole. Something sharp abruptly stabbed the soft pad of her finger and she yelped and pull her hand away. The tip of her finger was bleeding from a pin prick sized hole. She immediately stuck the wounded digit into her mouth and glared up at the giant, but his attention was drawn to the small read out on the device. It beeped twice.

“Type A positive,” he remarked aloud. “A good thing for you to know off the top of your head. That way if someone needs to know, they won’t have to prick your finger again.”

He added another line of notes and taking another bite of the lemon. Astrid wondered if maybe the fruit only looked like a lemon. Because who in their right mind would eat a lemon by itself, peel and all?  

“Alright, next one: any allergies?”

“Um. Pollen, but only sometimes. I don’t take any medicine for it.”

“Illnesses?”

“No.” A pause. She had to ask. “Why are you eating a lemon?”

The giant’s eyebrows shot up, surprised at the question. He smile and shrugged as he jotted down his notes. “Because I like lemons. Don’t you?”

“Not by themselves. They’re too sour.”

“I like sour things,” the giant replied in amusement. “Most Feirgians do. Sour, salty, bitter, and pickled things. Like these pickled fish here. We love’em.”

Astrid was now certain that the oddly sour smell she had detected earlier had been pickled fish. Being within such close proximity to the plate of the oily, wrinkly skinned fish, the smell was much more acute. It bordered on being unpleasant, but it was mostly just odd. She looked at Faro curiously. “W-what’s a fair-shen?”

“Feirgian,” he corrected patiently. “And that’d be me. I’m a Feirgian.”

“Oh.” It was an answer that did not seem to answer anything at all.

Faro put his pen down and propped his head in one hand, regarding the young human with amusement. “What did you think I was?”

“A giant,” she replied simply. “But you’re ears are pointed.”

“You’re quite the sharp one, Astrid,” he replied. He turned his head and ran a finger along the top ridge of his ear. “Feirgians all have ears like this. Helps us hear really good. That’s how I was able to hear your hollering from so far away.”

Astrid nodded absently. “And you don’t eat people...right?”

Faro laughed. “No, Feirgians most certainly do not eat humans. Me included.”

“Oh. Good. I was worried.”

“And why’s that? Because I’m big?”

“...and you have really sharp teeth.”

“Need them to eat lemons.”

“I...guess?”

Faro laughed again.

“Okay. So, I’ve got your basic info,” the giant said, picking up the pen and finishing the last few notes. “All done with that. Now, Astrid, do you remember what I said about not being able to keep your things?”

Astrid gripped the straps of her backpack in response, feeling her gut tighten. “Yeah, but...can’t I just-”

“No,” said the giant flatly. Astrid looked up, biting her lip. Faro narrowed his eyes. “Now, don’t go giving me that long face. You’re cute, kichtein, I’ll give you that. But I’ve got rules I have to follow. I’d lose my license if I broke them.”

“Not even my books?”

“Not even your books.”

She pulled off her backpack and unzipped it, peering inside. The smell of school wafted up from inside it. Pencil shavings, pages of her text books, and the lingering smell of the banana that she had brought in her lunch bag. She pulled out her homework folder and opened it. Her math homework was half done. There was a science worksheet that she had gotten a B plus on. A flier for the school Halloween party. Putting away the folder, she reached inside again and pulled out her Hello Kitty pencil case, her history text book, her grammar work book and a library book she had been meaning to return. It was already a day over due. Crumbled at the bottom of her bag was the Party City costume circular, a zombie outfit circled in sharpie. She looked at it for only a moment before shoving it and everything else back inside and zipping it closed. She shoved it forward, tears dripping off her chin, and watched as large fingers plucked it up from the table and slipped it into the plastic bag just as he had with Thomas’s things.

There was a heavy moment when no one said anything. And then finally...

“My Mom wanted me to be a princess,” she said, staring at nothing in particular. “For Halloween. But I didn’t want to because all the other girls in my class were going to be princesses. I wanted to be something scary like a zombie. Because Princesses never win the costume contests. And I really wanted to win this year. I never win anything.”

The giant listened, watching the small human as she seemingly rambled about nonsense.  

“This morning,” she continued. “I got mad at my Mom because she hated my costume ideas. I called her a mean name and went to school. I didn’t tell her goodbye like I always do or that I love her...”

Fat droplets fell from her chin and she hiccuped as her words unraveled into outright sobs. “I wish I could tell her I was sorry. I don’t care about the costumes anymore. I just want to say I’m sorry...”

Covering her face with her hands, she cried. For her Mom. Her Dad. Her grandparents and uncle and aunts. The nice neighbor lady who would give them vegetables from her garden and who had taught Astrid how to prune roses. Her room, her bed. The toys in the toy chest, the clothes in her closet. The lumpy sofa in the living room that still smelled like dog pee, even years after the death of their elderly Labrador. Her house. Her town. Her world. She was being told she had to leave it all. Shed it from her body, peel it all away, and drop it into a plastic bag. Like it was a dead thing.

“I hope you believe me,” Faro said gently. “When I say that if there was any possible way to get you home, I’d get you there. It’s always a sad thing to see young humans fall through. Even worse that you’re only a kichtein.”

She felt his finger brush the top of her head and she lifted her gaze to met his eyes. “But you can certainly believe me in this, little one: you’re going to be just fine. I know you’re mighty scared and you miss your folks. It’s natural to feel that way and I’m sure they’re gonna miss you to pieces, worrying about where you went and if you’re safe. And you are. Because it’s not just my job, but my moral responsibility to make sure you stay safe and sound. For as long as you’re in my custody. You and Thomas both. Even if it’s only for tonight.”

“W-what’s gonna happen to us?” she asked thickly, brushing tears from her cheeks and chin. “Y-you said that humans are pets and...”

“Tomorrow, I’ll be taking you both to the local clinic. There’s some nice folks there who are gonna make sure you’re healthy. Get you ready to go to new homes.

“But sometimes people aren’t nice to their pets,” she mumbled. “What if..?”

“Gonna stop you right there, sweetie,” Faro said. He used the crook of a finger and lifted her chin up and giving her a warm smile. “Moral responsibility, remember that? Not just me, but all folks who work with humans. Lots of the folks at the clinic are volunteers who are there to make sure that if you’re adopted, that you go to a good home. With good people. Because they care. And with you being a kit, they’re gonna make darn sure whoever might adopt you is a good person. So in that, you don’t have to be afraid. Okay?”

She took in a shuddering breath. “Mm-hm.”

Faro brought out another of the same clothing that Thomas had changed into. It resembled footie pajamas to her, with the zipper around the inside of the legs. It was made of black flannel and the inside was lined with soft fleece.

“This is the smallest one I got,” Faro was saying. “I’ve never had a kichtein come through my ranch before. My neighbor’s caught a few over the years, but none as young as you, I don’t think. So this might be a tad loose on you.”

He handed it to her and she took it tentatively. She met his gaze. “What’s that word mean? The weird one you keep calling me?”

“Kichtein?” he asked. “It’s the Feirgish word for a young human.”

“The literal translation is ‘little squeaker’,” came Tippan’s voice, once more from below the table. “Because you’re little and you squeak.”

Astrid mad a face. “I don’t squeak.”

“My ears say otherwise. Kichtein.”

“Alright,” Faro said sternly, though he wore a small grin. “Enough, Tippan.”

“What? She asked.”

Faro gave her a small nod of encouragement. “Go on, Astrid.”

As soon as he turned his back to grant her some privacy, Astrid slipped out of her clothes.

“Remember, Astrid. All of it.”

“...I remember.”

She added her underwear to the pile of clothes and pulled the black pajamas over her head, pushed her head and arms through the appropriate holes, and zipped up the bottom. “It’s a little big,” she said.

Faro turned back around and snickered. “Aye,” he agreed. “Just a tad.”

It was several sized too large for her. It might have fit someone a good foot taller than her and the excess fabric pooled around her hips and legs. Before she could do it herself, Faro plucked up her discarded clothing and added it to the bag that held her backpack. She watched it disappear as it was sealed up and put away. There was a palpable sense of loss. Her skin felt odd in the new clothes, knowing they weren���t really her own. She felt scared that all that she had fallen into this strange new world with, she was not permitted to keep. Oddly enough, she really missed her underwear. It felt weird to not be wearing underwear. It was rude to not wear underwear.

She felt herself tear up again. She sniffed.

Faro picked up the white fabric, a blanket, and wrapped it around her gently. His large face dominated her view of the world.

“Something to eat,” he said. “And then it’s bedtime for you, kichtein. You got a long day ahead of you.”

…………………………………..

Faro gave her a sweet tasting biscuit and some water before carrying her to the back of the cabin where there was a small room off to the side of the kitchen. Inside were cages, set into the walls and lined with plush fabric. Tommy was inside one, curled up with a blanket and appearing to be asleep. At the sight of them, Astrid felt like crying again and pressed her face into the fabric of Faro’s shirt.

“I don’t want to be in a cage!” She whimpered. She felt fingers at her back, rubbing softly. “Please don’t make me...”

“Shhh, little one. It’s just for tonight,” he told her. “You won’t be in there for long. Got to keep you both secured until tomorrow.”

He sat her down in the only open cage, beside Tommy’s. She huddled into the blanket she was wrapped in, whimpering in fear. Faro rubbed his hands along her sides, trying to calm her. When the tactile approach failed, he sighed in disappointment.

“Don’t be scared,” he whispered. “It’s just a place to keep you. You won’t be here forever.”

Astrid wouldn’t meet his gaze and buried her head under the blankets, giving off a single whine in response.

“Hm,” Faro said contemplatively before turning away and walking out of the small side room. He reappeared mere moments later with something in his hand. “Do you know what a Rhwren is, Astrid?”

She shook her head.

“I believe the Anglish word is bear,” he said and raised his hand for her to see what he held. It was a small stuffed bear. “Rhwren’s are seen as guardians to Feirgians. They guard the forest, the rivers, the mountains. And people. This one here, Astrid, is for you.”

Astrid pushed her head from the blankets, looking at the bear curiously. “It is?”

“He’s gonna be your guardian,” Faro told her and placing the bear in front of her. She reached out and pulled it close. It was half her height and very fuzzy. Its eyes were solid black and it’s mouth was nothing but a black thread stitched in a line with two points to make it appear that the toy had teeth. “When you’re feeling scared or nervous, just give this little guy a squeeze. He’ll keep the bad things away. He’ll protect you.”

Astrid wrapped her arms around the bear’s neck and buried her face in the plush fur. He smelled like pickled fish and pine, but there was a palpable feeling of security in the soft touch of something vaguely familiar. She could almost pretend that she was back in her own room, snuggling one of her own stuffed animals.

“Thank you,” she said, raising her head.

“Try and get some sleep, little one,” he told her quietly. “It won’t be so scary for much longer.”

…………………….

The next morning was a flurry of confusing activity. Faro woke her and Tommy up, gave them both another sweet biscuit and water, before shuffling off to do something and leaving both humans on the table. Astrid clung to the stuffed bear with one arm while she munched on the food.

It was crumbly and did not have a real flavor other than being lightly sweet. It was not the most appetizing thing she had ever eaten, but she was hungry enough not to care. For his part, Tommy looked horrible. There were dark circled under his eyes which were red and raw. Like he had been crying all night. He absently plucked small pieces of biscuit and slipped them between his lips, but didn’t really chew.

“Are you scared?” he asked her quietly.

“Yeah,” she replied.

A pause.

“I’m sorry, Astrid.”

“Why?”

He sighed. “I...don’t know. I just am.”

She regarded the other human for a moment and nodded. “Yeah. Me too.”

“You really have nothing to be so scared over,” said Tippan as he leaped onto a chair and laid his long head on the table top, eyeing the pair. “Humans are treated pretty well here.”

“Sorry if I find the concept of loosing my freedom terrifying,” Tommy hissed and bit into the biscuit vindictively.

“Loosing your freedom? Ha!” Tippan said, his black lips pulling back into a grin. “You’re gonna be adopted. Not enslaved.”

“What’s the difference?” growled Tommy.

“Well, for starters, one involved manual labor and servitude,” replied the dog. “While the other involves belly rubs and food.”

“You’re really hung on on belly rubs, dude.”

“They’re the best part. After food. Food is the best part. What I’m saying is that you’re idea of being a pet is all screwey. Some nice, and most likely rich, Feirgian is gonna take you home, make you apart of their family, and then spoil you rotten for the rest of your life. How is any of that a bad thing?”

“Have you always been Faro’s pet?”

“Since I was a pup.”

“So you’ve never lived with other...dogs, like you? In a pack or a community? Independent and self reliant?”

“Nope. Sounds tedious.”

“So you’ve never been the one to steer the direction of your own life? To make the choices that decide how and where your life goes?”

Tippan seemed to weigh those words carefully. “Nope. And I have no interest in it either.”

“Well, that’s a choice. And for us, Astrid and I, well, we’re being told that we’re not able to make them anymore. I mean, jeez! I literally had to hand over my underwear. My godddamn underwear. For what? Really? Because it might remind me of home? Of being my own person? Of being free?”

Tippan regarded the angry boy for a moment. “Hm. Well. You may have some point there, but it’s all irrelevant now. You’re gonna go be evaluated and they’re going to decided for you if you’re suitable for adoption. And from what I know of the other alternatives, kid, you wanna be adopted. Do yourself a big favor and do what you can to get adopted. Because if you’re worried about having any sense of freedom, you don’t want to go to a zoo. Sanctuaries, from what I hear, aren’t much better.” Tippan’s eyes drifted over to Astrid. “That goes for you too, squeaker. Though I doubt you’ll have a hard time getting adopted. Kit’s are always the first to go.”

Astrid was hugging her bear tightly, nuzzling the soft fur of its neck and peering at Tippan over edge of one of its ears.

“I’m not so scared about...about being adopted. I’m scared that...” she paused. “I’m scared that I won’t see my family again. What if I forget what they look like?”

Tippan shifted so his head lay closer to Astrid, close enough she could feel his breath on her knees.

“I still remember my Mum’s face,” he said. “Haven’t seen her since the day Faro took me home as a pup. But I will always remember her face. Her smell. You won’t forget. Even if you wanted to. Even though she’s not here with you, she’s still apart of you. She’s half of you, after all.”

Astrid lowered the bear a little and nodded sadly. She never considered that before. That her mother was half of her. Literally half of her. The other, her father. There was a great sense of comfort in that idea. Tippan lifted his snout and pushed his wet nose to Astrid face. She giggled, pulling back with a squeak when he stuck out the tip of his tongue and gave her a gentle lick. He sat his head back down on the table with half lidded eyes and a small smile playing on his lips.

“See? You do squeak.”

Faro returned a short time later, carrying the red leather case as before. He sat it down on the table before turning his attention to the two humans. “I called ahead to let the clinic staff know I’ll be dropping the two of you off. Apparently yesterday was quite the event, several collapses all over the county. Three other trappers are bringing in catches. So you’ll have some company.”

“Such joy,” muttered Tommy sarcastically. “I cannot contain it.”

“Just try and keep your spirits up,” Faro suggested, lifted the pack’s flap. “And remember what I told you, Thomas.”

The boy’s gazed dejectedly off to the side. “Yeah. I remember.”

Faro then carefully lifted the human up and lowered him down into the pack. He turned to Astrid.

“And you, kichtein,” the Feirgian said, reaching out and tapping the head of the stuffed bear. “If you get scared, you know what to do, right?”

Astrid tightened her grip on the bear as an answer. Smiling, Faro nodded and gently stroked the top of her head, his fingers trailing down her back before retreating. He then picked her up, studying her for a brief moment. “You’re going to be fine.” He glanced down at Tommy inside the pack. “Both of you.”

He then slipped Astrid, bear and all, down into the other compartment before closing the lip and snapping it shut.

…………………

“We’re here.”

The sound of Faro’s noisy little pick up was all Astrid could heard for what seemed like hours and when it abruptly cut off, it left a definitive ringing in her ears. She rubbed them lightly as new sounds became more prominent. The squeal of the seat as Faro slipped out of the truck, the slamming of the door. The muffled crunch of his boots on gravel as he walked around to the passenger side door and the sudden unadulterated sounds of the outside as he opened the door. She could hear other voices, but what struck her odd was that the words that were being spoken, at least those she heard, were not English. Truthfully, it did not sound like any language Astrid have ever heard. Before she could contemplate any further, Faro lifted the pack from the passenger seat, and shut the door behind him.

“Stay here, Tippan. I won’t be long.”

“Will do.”

Astrid pressed her face to the mesh window and peered around. Settled in a clearing, surrounded by towering pines, was an innocuous little white brick building. The front door was painted bright green with something written in gold letters, but Astrid did not recognize the letters. It looks utterly foreign to her. Faro stepped through and into the clinic…

...and into chaos.

The receiving room was being accosted with noise. Several Feirgians stood about the small space with what looked to Astrid like luggage. However, one of the pieces of luggage had a window and through it peeked the face of a human woman. The cases contained other humans. Even from where she was, Astrid could tell a lot of the noise was coming from the encased people. Someone was screaming every bad word Astrid knew and several she didn’t. Someone else was talking loudly in what sounded like...spanish? And there was also the unmistakable sound of helpless sobbing.

When Faro entered, the gathered giants all turned and greeted him with wide grins and a chorus of “Faro!”

And then a string of gibberish that Astrid did not understand. Faro replied in kind, in the same odd language, and waved at the cases containing the humans. Words were exchanged between the Feirgians and one of them pulled his sleeve up, to reveal a bandage. He gestured to one of the cases next to him. It was smaller than the other, big enough to only hold a single grown human. It seemed to be the source of the angry cursing.

Faro laughed at whatever the injured Feirgian said and then patted the top of the pack holding Astrid and Tommy. She heard the word Anglish and kichtein and several of the giants made sounds of surprise.

“You don’t say!” one of the giants replied, switching to flawless English. An unfamiliar face ducked down close to Astrid’s window and smiled when his large eyes caught sight of her. “Oh, aye. She’s a little sprigget of a thing alright. Gonna walk away with a healthy commission there, Faro. Lucky bastard. Twice the money, half the work.”

“Hardly,” Faro replied.

Astrid squeezed her bear and buried her face in his fur. Despite what she had told Tippan that morning, she was scared. The sounds of the other humans, the other giants, and the displeasing scent of a sterile, bleach scrubbed room. It reminded her of a hospital and the last time she had gone to a hospital was when she was seven had broken her arm riding her bike. She had been terrified the entire time just as she was now. But her parents weren’t there to soothe her. Or to reassure her. She would not go home afterwards or get an ice cream cone on the way for being so brave.

A depression settled over her like a blanket.

…………………………

“Are they all English speakers?” someone was asking. “All Anglish this time?”

“Got a Savoh yabbering away in spanish,” said someone else. “But he understands English fine. And two Berunti, same deal.”

“Alright, good. That makes this easier. So I’m going to be speaking in English for the remainder of our business and suggest you all do the same.”

“Why’s that? Never been a rule before.”

“It’s not a rule, just something we’re trying out. Our sister clinic in Barbos tried this out and saw some encouraging adoptions numbers. The thinking being, if the humans understand what we’re trying to accomplish here, their more likely to behave and pass their evaluations. Which means higher commissions for you gentlemen.”

“Well, I’m all for a higher paycheck.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“I’ve been saying this for years,” Faro added with a laugh. “Talk to them in their own language and they won’t panic and freak out as much. Lot less likely to bite too. That Berunti girl wouldn’t have gouged you like that, Calvin, if she knew you weren’t trying to kill her.”

“I’ve been doing this for eight years,” grumbled a giant. “I know how to handle wild humans.”

“And I’ve been doing for fifteen. A little compassion goes a long way, Calvin. Trust me.”

“You try being compassionate when one of them little buggers is trying to carve out an artery. How does a knife that small hurt that much?”

Someone cleared their throat. “If we could continue on, gentlemen? Calvin, an intern will be by to collect your feral human. You said you had her secured?”

“Boxed and muzzled,” came the gruff reply. “I kept the knife in another bag. Wasn’t sure if you needed it or not.”

“No, that’s alright. It’ll go to Kluedachsen when the rep comes by tomorrow with all their other personal effects. Just make you the incident report is attached to the carrier, if you please.” A pause. “Faro, you mentioned that you had a kichtein?”

“That’s right.”

“How old?”

“Ten.”

“Okay, you first, then. We like to get the younger ones processed first.”

The pack shifted and Astrid flopped over as it rose into the air. Through the window, she watched the receiving area drift farther and farther away before the bulk of a white door cut it off from view.

“This will be the first kit I think we’ve gotten from you,” said the unknown giant as they walked down a blindingly white hallway.

“She is. Never had one come through,” Faro replied. “Not in all my years of trapping.”

“It’s not very common,” agreed the other giant. “When it does happen, they’re almost always with another older humans.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Well, the prevailing theory is that whatever triggers a collapse is initiated on the human’s plane and whatever the catalyst actually is, kichteins can’t trigger it by themselves.”

“So they’re collateral?”

“That’s the current theory at least.”  

Faro sighed. “Sad.”

“It is. Which is why we take great care with them. So many folks who adopt humans all want kits, because they’re all high energy and always happy and want to play. But a wild kit and a domestic one are worlds apart. Which you probably figured out quickly.”

“She’s actually one of the more well behaved humans I’ve caught.”

“Well, that bodes well for her. How about the other one?”

“Anglish male. Seventeen. Skiddish. A little mouthy, but no more than usual.”

“We can hear you,” snapped Tommy, his mildly irritated voice slughtly muffled by the wall between him and Astrid. “Just so you know.”

Faro chuckled. “See what I mean?”

“A good week for you then, huh?”

“Pretty good.”

The slightly swaying of the pack stilled for the briefest of moments as there came the sound of another door opening before Faro followed the other giant into a new room. Astrid’s stomach dropped to the floor as a wave of vertigo swept through her and the pack was lifted and set carefully on what appeared to be an examination table.

“Alright, Faro,” said the unnamed giant, appearing on the other side of the window, a clipboard in hand. “If you would.”

“The kit first, right?”

“If you please.”

The darkened interior of the leather carrying case was illuminated and Astrid lifted her head to see Faro reaching inside. As he lifted her out with the same care and gentleness as he had previously, she got a proper view of the room. Wholly unremarkable was the relatively small space as it was almost completely identical to a normal examination room. Stark white walls, a counter running along one wall,  various tools and applicators in jars, drawers, and cabinets overhead. There was a device to one end of the counter that looked like a scale fitted with a tray. Along the back-splash were items of a more nefarious nature. Various muzzles, bindings, and straps were hung on hooks for easy access. In case a human got bitey, Astrid imagined. She thought back to the receiving room the one human who had been boxed up apart from the others. It must be a common occurrence.

Almost as soon as Faro released her onto the table, another, unfamiliar, set of hands were beset upon her. She flinched at the sudden fingers pressing on her arms and side, holding her still, as a large face of the other giant lowered down close to her. He was bald, but had thick gray eyebrows and brown eyes that peeped out from behind thin wire framed glasses. She met his eyes, watching him warily, as she waiting for something to happen.    

“Oh yes, she is a young one,” the Feirgian murmured. He was dressed in brown trousers and a sweater made of various bands of green, all under a long white lab coat. Brown eyes looked her up and down and whatever it was he was searching for, he seemed to have found it as he then stepped back, opened a drawer, and drew out a black plastic square. He then pulled a sheet of paper from the clip board and sat it down near her. “Alright...” his words trailed off as he gazed down at the papers briefly before looking back to the small human, “...Astrid. My name is Dr. Weis and I’ll be taking some measurements and get your records done. We’re gonna make sure you’re good and healthy, okay?”

Astrid nodded, wishing she had grabbed her bear when Faro pulled her from the pack.

“Ever have your prints done?” Dr. Weis asked her as he pulled on purple latex gloves.

“...when I was born at the hospital,” she replied, her voice quiet.

“Well, we’re gonna do the same right here,” he said patiently, setting the black square down and removing the clear plastic cover. His brown eyes watched her as though to gauge her reaction. “This is just regular old black ink. Nothing special. We’ll do your feet first, alright?”

She nodded. He instructed her to unzip the bottom of her suit, releasing her feet from the black fabric and he hummed in approval when she followed through with his directions under her own volition. When she had finished and her feet were touching the cold metal of the table top, he carefully plucked her up, again seeming to study her reactions, before lowering her down so her feet were pressed to the ink pad. It was startlingly cold and wet, but the contact was very brief and soon her blackened toes were being pressed down onto the paper, inside a pre-marked square.

“Brilliant,” said the doctor in an overly chipper tone and then producing a moist towelette from somewhere and quickly wiping off the ink from her feet. She wiggled in his hand, unable to suppress a giggle at the ticklish ministrations. He flashed her a smile. “Sorry. Tickles a bit, does it?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, now let us get your hands,” said the doctor. He then held her over the ink pad. Suspended in the air like superman, she instinctively understanding what he expected of her and Astrid pressed her hands onto it. The pad effectively marked her fingers and palms in austere black. Then as she hovered over the large sheet of paper, she planted her inked hands into a second box, pressing down firmly as instructed. “Perfect. You’re doing wonderfully, Astrid.”

The same towelette was used to wipe away the ink from her hands and as soon as they were clean, Astrid slipped her feet back inside her warm suit and zipped it back up. Then she was weighed by being place upon the tray set above the scale. Her height was noted. A sample of her saliva was taken and placed in a tube, shaken, and the liquid poured into a tray separated into five sections. Each one turned a brilliant blue.

“All negative,” Dr. Weis said aloud. “Good, good. Very good. That means no shots for you, Astrid.”

“Oh good,” she said. “’Cause I don’t like needles.”

“You’d be hard pressed to find anyone who does,” Dr. Weis replied with a smirk. Though his amiable nature and overt attempts to reassure her were appreciated, Astrid could not truly relax. The records Faro took the night before were transferred over and all forms of various papers were clipped, stapled, and assembled before all being tucked into plain brown folder upon which her name was written in fat black marker. Dr. Weis removed his gloves and slid the clip board over to Faro. “If you could sign there, next to her name. Sonya will have the release forms for you after the boy’s evaluation.”

Astrid blinked. That was the evaluation? That was it? Somehow she expected there to be more to it. More questions, more poking. Something like the way cops interrogated bad guys on television. But it felt more like she had just had a normal check up. Was there something she missed?

Or more to the point: Did she pass?

As Faro was signing the paper, Dr. Weis walked over to the door, opened it, and leaned out. “Sonya. Advest yeir Jarden mon heist? Ver kichtein.”

“Suden rikt.” replied a female voice.

When the doctor turned back, his eyes fell to Astrid. “So now that your evaluation is done, Astrid, Sonya will be bringing you to my associate, Jarden. He’s going to get you ready for quarantine.”

Her heart rate spiked and she blanched. Quarantine? Was that bad? It sounded bad. Wasn’t quarantine the thing that happened when people were really sick? Was she sick? Oh god…

Her panic must have been showing because the doctor bent down and ran his thumb across the top of her head in a gesture of gentle reassurance. “I know it’s a big scary word, but do not let it upset you. All humans who are approved for adoption have to be quarantined for three days. The only thing that happens is you sit in a big comfy room all day, getting ready to go to a new home.”

“O-oh...um, how come?” she asked.  

“Well, the humans who are born here don’t have the antibodies to a lot of the illnesses you do and can get really sick from them. So we are very careful not to introduce dangerous illnesses. Even though you’re not sick, you still might carry them in your body. In your saliva, your blood, and other bodily fluids and materials.”

“Oh, okay. That...makes sense, I think,” she replied. She looked back at the pack, thinking of her bear, and turned back to the doctor with a hopeful lilt of her eyebrows. “Can I keep my bear?”

“Bear?” Dr. Weis asked.

“Oh, right!” Faro said, reaching into the pack and bringing out the small stuffed toy. “I gave her a Rhwren. I didn’t think to ask if she could bring it with her.”

“It’s not a problem,” Dr. Weis replied, smiling down at the little human girl. “I’ll make a note on your chart. Just in case.”

Astrid grinned in relief when Faro presented her with the bear. It might have been a small gesture to the two Feirgians, but for Astrid, after having to give up all her possessions, having something that was wholly her own was an enormous comfort. She had fallen asleep the night before, stroking the soft fur, feeling the hard plastic of its eyes, the stiff threads of its mouth, and the rounded ends of its paws. The tactile activity had brought a desperately craved sense of calm. And he made for a fantastic pillow.

She hugged the toy happily and then the door opened. A Feirgian woman with short curly brown hair, bright green eyes, and dressed in pink scrubs entered. “Jarden frare heist totkurt danem. Des Kichtein ver korcumt knut swarzen.”

“Ah, vank saden, Sonya,” Dr. Weirs said to the woman. Astrid met his mildly apologetic expression curiously. “Unfortunately, some of our volunteers do not remember much of their English lessons. Most Feirgians in Audenvier know at least some English, but a great many are fluent, so you’ll hear it a lot. More than other human language. Mandarin is a close second, but it’s more common in Lerdachest. Audenvier sees mostly Anglish and Berunti.”

“We have no idea where that is...” Tommy’s voice quipped from the pack.

“Part of the quarantine involves an assimilation period,” Dr. Weis replied. “Jarden will answer any questions you have. Including geography.”

“I’ve got a long list at this point, doc.”

“I’m sure you do. However, we must press on,” Dr. Weis then reached out for Astrid and she could not keep from gripping her bear just a tad more securely to her as his large fingers gripped around her body and lifted her from the table. Turning towards Sonya, Dr. Weis held out the small human child. “We have a lot of humans to process today. Hopefully most of them will be joining you in quarantine.”

Sonya’s hands were cold compared to Dr. Weis and even though she apparently had no idea what was being said, she still gave Astrid a pleasant smile. As she turned to leave, Astrid caught the slimmest look of Faro pulling Tommy from the pack. She waved anyway, unsure if Tommy saw her. As the door closed behind them, Astrid hoped that she would be seeing Tommy in quarantine soon.

She hugged her bear a little closer.

…………………………

Without any windows, the quarantine room’s only light came from strong florescent ceiling panels that cast the room in a blindingly white light strong enough to force Astrid clench her eyes shut as Sonya entered. Blinking blearily through the painfully sharp brightness, the space began to materialize before her. Modestly sized and rather cookie cutter in appearance, the main feature seemed to be the center of the room where large square plastic bins had been tipped onto their sides, creating a sort of open ended shelter. Placed in a loose circle, there was enough room between each of them for a Feirgian to easily walk around and indeed sit in the center of. Inside each bin there looked to be blankets of some kind, arranged in a way so as to turn them into a kind of makeshift nest. Off in one corner, almost as an afterthought, was a door. Painted the same blinding shade of white as the rest of the room, the door’s fit was so flush with the rest of the wall that it would be almost invisible if not for the copper colored hinges and knob.  

“Jarden?” Sonya called out into the empty room.“Bentkeir von shaurser. Kichtein wier kervos dan?”

“Kervos heist don ver,” replied a voice muffled from behind the door. “Vank suden.”

Sonya walked to the circle of bins and lowered herself down, carefully placing Astrid next to one of the bins. The giant woman looked to her with an oddly hopeful look as she reached into the bin and patted the nest of blanket as though inviting her to come sit. Astrid just starred, acting as though she did not understand. With a mildly disappointed look, Sonya rose back up to her feet and left the room.

Astrid watched her go, peeking out from behind the bulk of the bin. The door shut firmly with a soft click and she found herself alone in the sterile, all too bright room. Spinning slowly, she took in what little there was to see of the room, but there was a growing discomfort in her guts. Her insides clenched and there was a tightness deep in her chest. It was akin to the feeling one got when they held their breath too long. The craving for air. But no matter how many deep breaths she took, the tightness did not lessen.  

A curious and rather ironic sense of being trapped filled her bones despite the enormous proportions of the room. She was a mouse in a great space, but it suddenly felt too small for her. The whole of it all was unraveling too fast and her mind was having terrible difficulty gaining purchase.

Yesterday morning, she had awoken in her own bed: warm, safe, and familiar. She spent the day at school: safe, familiar, and secure. Got sucked into a worm hole: fantastical, unknown, and unnerving. Caught by a giant: impossible, uncertain, and scary.

Whatever form of shock had been buffering her consciousness from the reality of it all was beginning to crumble. And she was afraid. Well and truly afraid.

Not the kind of afraid when you got bad grades or did something naughty. No, this kind of afraid was different. An all encompassing, primal, sort of fear. Like when you first started to learn to swim and you reach for the edge of the pool or a floaty and it wasn’t there. And you panic. And flail. The ground it gone and you’re reaching, but there is nothing to hold onto and you begin to sink and you can’t breathe.

The ground is gone...  

There came a sound akin to the jingling of a utensil drawer mere moments before the smaller door opened and a giant unlike any of the others stepped through. Long legs delivered him across the room in moments and large blue eyes fell to Astrid, who starred back with wide eyes. He was taller than either Faro or Dr. Weis, a full head taller than Sonya, and though he had the same pointy ears and sharp canines, as evidence from the brilliant smile he wore, his skin was a creamy mocha rather than the peachy pink of all the other Feirgians. With short black curls and a thick build, he was like a living wall dressed in baby blue scrubs.

Gripping onto her bear for dear life, Astrid made a dash for one of the bins and dived into the nest of blankets. The footfalls of the large man followed her, pausing just outside the bin’s entrance. He was crouched down outside of the bin, one hand on its top edge, and he peered inside. His smile was was smaller than before and a delicate curve of his brow added the slightest hint of concern.

“Feeling a little shy are we?” he asked her, voice low. “Not to worry none, you’re fine to settle in where you want. Still have a good bit before Dr. Weis gets through all the evaluations.”

She made no motion or sound to answer of even acknowledge him as she huddled miserably in the piles of soft fabric, clutching her bear. He caught on quickly to her discomfort.

“No need to be scared, kiddo. I know I look all big and scary, but trust me...” He poked at his chest and middle with a finger. Looking up, his smirked at her. “... most of this is fluff.”

Astrid managed a small smile.

“My names Jarden,” said the giant. “What do I call you?”

“Astrid,” she replied quietly. “My name is Astrid.”  

#Bitter lemons #gt #g/t story #fantasy #giant #tiny #universe hopping #human pets #sad smols #Astrid #Tommy #Faro #Tippan #prologue #salty lemonade