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gracefulsunflower · 2 years

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CONTRARY - FINN SHELBY X READER; PART 10

PUBLISHED: 22/05/2022

!!FIRST PART HERE!!

Part 1

MASTERLIST

FINN'S POV

It had been a week since you and I had tied the knot, and you adopted Finn Junior. In that week, you had pulled me closer and pushed me away as you pleased. I was sick of it, and glad that I was going back to work today so I could get away from it. Tommy had called me this morning to tell me to be at Charlie's Yard in an hour.

Tommy had wanted you to come along as well, but I told him that you weren't well enough. Aberama had waxed poetic about your skills with guns, knives and even bow and arrows, and Tommy believed every word. I did too. This morning I had witnessed you stick a fly darting around to the kitchen ceiling with a knife because the buzzing annoyed you.

I didn't need you bothering me though, so you would be heading to Polly's after we went shopping. It was hard enough to try to get anyone older than me to take me seriously, but with you constantly belittling me it was an impossible task. I had no doubt that you would overshadow me too, and that was a big no-go.

I wrote the list out, and called out to you. You walked into the kitchen, Finn Junior hot on your heels, the bell on his little red collar tinkling. He had a little name tag, and our names on it in case he ever got lost, not that he ever would. He'd follow you everywhere, the Garrison, the betting den, Charlie's Yard, around the neighbourhood.

He'd never come near me voluntarily, though. He hates me, and I hate him. I nearly threw him out the window yesterday, because I turned my back on my cup of coffee for five seconds only to find him drinking it. You said that it was my fault for leaving the cup alone, but I'm positive that it's your fault for not training that fucking monster properly. He never ever tried that with your food either, it was always mine. I felt like you two had some sort of secret agreement to drive me mad.

"Let's go, you're reading the list." I instructed, throwing you the folded up piece of paper.

You blanched, but put it into your pocket. I rolled my eyes. I wouldn't have told you to do it if I didn't think you could. It was only four things, anyway. I put my cap on, and threw you your — our — brush, and you fixed your hair. It became our brush after you used mine to brush the knots out of Finn Jr's fur.

We started our walk down the street, to the market, you chewing your gum as usual. Once we entered, I grabbed a basket.

"What's the first thing on the list?" I asked, making you roll your eyes.

"You know damn well what's on the list, you wrote it!" You complained, but fished the list out of your pocket.

"Reading practice, won't hurt you." I replied as you came into step with me.

"I'm not sounding anything out," You warned, looking at the first word. "Erm, bread."

I nodded, and made a beeline for the bread aisle. I grabbed two loaves, knowing we were going to babysit Karl tomorrow and he was obsessed with jam sandwiches at the moment.

"Tea, coffee," You read out the next two items, and I put an arm around you and guided you to the aisle containing tea and coffee as you stared down at the page, trying to figure out the last word.

"What's the first sound you're sure of?" I questioned as I grabbed teabags and a jar of coffee.

"Bis," You answered as I grabbed your shoulder and started guiding you again.

"What do we eat a lot of, starting with 'bis', that we might need to top up on?" I prompted as we walked through the store.

"Oh, um, biscuits?" You replied unsurely, looking up at me, making me nod.

"Biscuits. Good girl," I praised as we reached the biscuits.

You blushed and looked away as I grabbed three packets. I lead us to the checkout and placed the items down. You made small talk with the cashier as she added up the cost of everything. I paid her, then we walked back to home. I could see Tommy, Arthur, and Isiah walking up the street. I looked down at my watch. Oh fuck, they left five minutes early.

"I've got to go with Tommy, I'll see you later, don't leave the Lane." I commanded, handing you the bag holding our groceries.

"Why?" You demanded, adjusting your grip on the brown paper bag.

"Family business," I brushed you off, adjusting my cap.

You stopped, and I turned to look at you.

"What?" I said impatiently.

"I'm part of the family now, so what business are you attending to?" You questioned, "Or are you not telling me because I'm a Gold?"

"It's complicated," I answered, not wanting to start up on the street.

"Fuck you, Shelby." You spat, walking past me and into our house, slamming the door behind you.

I ran to catch up to the other boys, patting Arthur on the back once I caught up.

READER'S POV

"Fuck Finn Shelby and the other Shelby's, and fuck the Peaky Blinders!" I swore as I walked to the kitchen.

"Is that any way to speak about your husband?" I heard a familiar voice speak.

I looked up, and Mum was sat at the kitchen table, stroking Finn Junior.

"If you try anything, I'll kill your cat," She said coolly.

I had no doubt that she would, so I sat across the table from her, tucking my hair behind my ears.

"What are you doing here?" I asked carefully, watching her as she scratched him behind the ears and made him purr.

Little grey traitor. I should've let Finn leave you at the yard.

"I'm doing a favour for some people." She replied, and I heard a car pull up outside, making my blood run cold in my veins.

"Leonardo, now!" Mum commanded, and I heard the floorboards creak behind me.

I quickly got up, and swung the chair that I was sitting on around, hearing it crack and break as it made contact with a man. I felt long nails scratch my scalp as Mum grabbed my hair from behind, yanking me back and making my back hit the table. She kept her hold on me, and no amount of thrashing could free me from her hold.

The man, Leonardo, stood back up and grabbed a wooden pole from the back of the chair. The last thing I felt before I fell unconscious was the pole cracking across my face and Mum letting me go, making my head connect with the kitchen bench, then everything went dark.

•••

FINN'S POV

I aimed at the group of men on the bridge, finger on the trigger, willing myself to pull it. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't do it. If you were here, you'd probably be telling me to grow a pair and pull the trigger before you did it yourself. Then, you'd probably grab the gun off of me and proceed to do it yourself.

"Too late to back out now, mate." One of the men said, making me breathe a sigh of relief as I lowered the rifle.

"It's a fucking decoy!" I heard Tommy yell out, making my eyes widen, "Bring the car around!"

I started running to the apartment that Arthur was in, unloading my rifle and pocketing the bullets.

"Arthur!" I called out as I ran along the pathway in front of the apartments, and opened the door to the apartment that held my eldest brother.

"Arthur, they're not here for you. It must be Michael." I said, panting, eyes flickering from him to the woman.

He took a breath in, then grabbed the tablecloth, shoving it off of the table.

"You fucking bitch!" He roared as everything clattered on the floor.

"You set me up, eh?" He said, pulling out his gun, "you set me up!"

He flipped the table, then stepped closer and grabbed the woman by the shoulders, "I know!"

"Arthur, you need to get to the hospital now." I stated, walking over and grabbing his shoulder.

"Fuck off!" He grunted, tearing himself from my grip, making me stumble.

I walked back over to the door. He looked back at the woman and growled. She was damn near crying.

"If your faith is real," She began shakily, "I've got all the kids!"

Arthur put a hand on her face and pushed her away, heading to the door, but not before kicking a teapot and shattering it, making her gasp.

"If you're here in one hour, I swear to God — I will cover you in tar and fucking feathers." Arthur threatened, pointing at her, then spinning around and pushing past me.

"Come on, Finn, let's go," He commanded, and as we walked away I could hear the woman start to sob.

We piled into Tommy's car, and Tommy began speeding through the streets. The car was silent, the air heavy. When we arrived I nearly tripped as I rushed out of the car, Arthur helping me to find my feet.

Tommy lead us to Michael's room, my heart pounding so hard that I thought it was going to come right out of my chest. Tommy stopped in the corridor just outside of Michael's room, then burst in, followed by Arthur, then me, Isiah and Johnny waiting in the car.

Michael was sitting up peacefully reading the paper.

"What's wrong?" He asked, looking at us in confusion as he lowered the paper.

"The Italians — They had a decoy, they was meant to attack Arthur but they didn't," Tommy explained, making Michael's eyes widen.

I had a funny feeling in my stomach. I didn't like this. I spotted the cup of tea and biscuits next to Michael and my mouth went dry.

"Tommy," I began nervously, "What if they went to Watery Lane; after the girls?"

I watched as all the colour drained from Tommy's face, and he got up from the chair he was sitting on and told us to get our asses back into the car. I didn't waste any time running through the halls. Isiah and Johnny were leaning against the car sharing a smoke. Johnny quickly put it out when he saw us, and hopped into the back, followed by Isiah.

I clambered into the back after passing Isiah the shotgun, Arthur putting the seat up and hopping in, and Tommy getting into the drivers seat, starting the car and speeding to Watery Lane.

I found myself twisting my wedding band around my finger, a habit I picked up when I was nervous. Tommy came to a screeching stop in front of Polly's, and I couldn't get out of the car quick enough, running down the street to our house, and opening the door.

"(Y/N)!" I called out, scanning the room.

Finn Junior was laid on the coffee table, and he got up and strolled over to me, rubbing against my legs, making my stomach drop. Something was definitely wrong.

I ran upstairs, and you weren't there. I stumbled back down the stairs, and into the kitchen. A chair had been broken, and there was blood on the edge of the kitchen bench.

"Fuck!" I hissed, looking around the room. I spotted an envelope on the kitchen table.

I snatched it up, and ran back out to the street.

"Where's your wife?" Tommy asked, looking me up and down.

"She's gone," I snapped, handing him the envelope I found.

He tore it open.

"What does it say?" Polly asked, coming to stand with us.

"That Luca Changretta is keeping her until he kills one of us, and if he can't kill one of us, he'll kill her." Tommy said, his face unreadable.

I suddenly felt nauseous, and doubled over, my breakfast making a reappearance on the cobbled street. Arthur started rubbing my back. This was unfair, you were innocent. You didn't have anything to do with this.

As I heaved for air, I came up with one thought; if I had taken you with me this morning, you would be fine. This was all my fault.

§§§

OOOOH IT FINALLY HAPPENEDDDD

I've been waiting to write the kidnapping for agesss

Love y'all ❤️

- Sunflower x

NEXT PART

Part 11

#finn shelby #finn shelby x reader #finn shelby x y/n #finn shelby x you #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #x reader #arthur shelby #finn shelby fanfic #tommy shelby

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ameloblastomadiary · 10 months

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Update!

My apologies for being away from this blog for so long! I ended up getting pregnant, then having complications with the pregnancy (pre-eclampsia and HELLP syndrome) that resulted in a month-long hospital stay and a very premature birth (29 weeks and 5 days, born December 25th), which led to 68 days in the NICU. Since then, it's been a whirlwind of moving into our basement suite, adjusting to parenthood, and getting to all of my and my daughter's appointments. I've developed chronic fatigue and pain since the birth, as well as had continued liver and blood pressure issues, so I'm getting all sorts of tests for autoimmune disorders, liver function, etc.

Now, on to my teeth!

I finally have my final prosthetic! It was a bit of a journey, we started with a fixed appliance for a few months but found that it was simply too difficult for me to clean underneath the bridge and around the screws. Now I have a removable appliance that looks like a metal retainer with teeth attached, see below for photos:

^ Here it is from a number of different angles, including underneath where the attachment points are visible.

It definitely feels weird to have in, as I've gone nearly half a decade without my three lower left molars, and the metal bar feels strange to speak with, but I'm adjusting to it well. I'm still quite tentative about chewing on that side, but this is a functional appliance and I know that I need to use it or risk losing density in the bone graft.

I've had this appliance for nearly a month now, and it's quite comfortable to have in. I take it out at night and let it soak in its case with water and a denture tablet, then in the morning I rinse it off and stick it back in.

What really gets me about this appliance is how natural it looks once it's in. I can feel with my tongue that it isn't my teeth or gums, but the colour and shape and everything matches my other teeth so well that it looks like it's really my teeth!

I have a follow-up appointment regarding this appliance later this month that I look forward to.

It really seems like this is finally wrapping up! I will be sad to leave this blog, and I may continue updating sporadically if checkups or developments occur, but it seems like this journey is nearing its end.

I started this blog as a way to document my journey and store images and progress notes for others who may be undergoing the same or a similar experience. When my ameloblastoma was diagnosed, I could only find a handful of personal accounts about the lesion, none of which continued into the recovery process. It became my goal to to continue my account through my recovery and reconstruction, whatever came up.

I hope that this blog can be a valuable resource for those studying dentistry and/or oral pathology, but most especially for those that feel as I did - scared, overwhelmed, hopeless, and alone.

This side account is linked to my main account, so I should receive notifications if messages are sent with any questions, etc. You may also feel free to follow me on Instagram at pocketwatchesandtea, it is currently set to "private" as I have photos of my daughter on there, but send me a message here with your account when you request to follow and I'll accept and give you access, as my x-ray photos and specimen photos are hosted there.

#news #ameloblastoma recovery #ameloblastoma #jaw tumor #jaw reconstruction

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lemondropdancer · 3 years

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Grounding Techniques

Mental Distraction Techniques

Pick a category of objects and try to think of as many objects as possible that fit within that category (e.g., types of dogs, cities, types of trees, crayon colors, sports)

Pick a letter and think of emotionally positive or neutral words that begin with that letter

Pick a color and look for things of that color. Notice differences in their exact shades

Say or think the alphabet backwards or alternate letters and numbers (A1, B2, C3, D4, etc)

Count backwards from 100 by 3s, 6s, or 7s or count up by prime numbers or perfect squares

Play "fizz-buzz" with yourself. Begin counting to 100 (or over!), but replace any number that contains the number 5 or is a multiple of 5 with the word "fizz" and any number that contains the number 7 or is a multiple of 7 with the word "buzz." For example, 1-15 would be "1, 2, 3, 4, fizz, 6, buzz, 8, 9, fizz, 11, 12, 13, buzz, fizz." When you mess up, compliment yourself and start over

Think of the words to your favorite song or poem or think of facts related to a specific theme

Pick a word or your name and see how many other words you can make from the letters in it

Describe an every day event or process in great detail, listing all of the steps in order and as thoroughly as possible (e.g., how to cook a meal, how to get from your house to your place of work or school, how to do your favorite dance)

Read something technical or meant for children or read words backwards to focus on the process of reading and not the words

Watch a children's television show or movie or watch cute or funny videos on Youtube; it might help to have a playlist already prepared for this

Look at a current news article that is not likely to be upsetting or distressing

Distract yourself with Tetris, Solitaire, Sudoku, word searches, or other puzzle games

Reorientation Techniques

Say or think to yourself: "My name is _________. I am safe right now. I am _____ years old. I am currently at _____________. The date is _____________. If I need help, I am with ________/can call _________. Everything is going to be alright."

List reaffirming statements ("I am fine. Everything is going to be okay. I am strong. I can handle this.")

Ask yourself where you are, what day of the week it is, what day of the month it is, what month it is, what year it is, what season it is, how old you are, and other present-focused questions

Notice things in your surroundings that indicate to you that you're safe or that you're in the present (e.g., locks on your door, electronics that didn't exist when you were younger, the presence of trusted people, a phone so that you can call for help if you need it)

Describe your surroundings in detail, including sights (objects, textures, shapes, colors), sounds, smells, and temperature

Name five things that you see, four that you feel, three that you hear, and two that you smell or taste, and then name one good thing that you like about yourself

Pick four or five brightly colored objects that are easily visible and move your focus between them. Be sure to vary the order of your gaze and concentrate briefly on each one before moving to the next

Think about a fun time that you recently had with a friend or call that friend and ask them to talk about it with you

Sensory-Based Grounding Techniques

Run cool or warm (but not too cold or hot) water over your hands or take a cool or warm bath or shower

Spritz your face (with eyes closed), neck, arms, and hands with a fine water mist

Spray yourself with your favorite perfume and focus on the scent

Feel the weight of your body in your chair or on the floor and the weight of your clothing on your skin

Touch and hold objects around you. Compare the feel, weight, temperature, textures, colors, and materials

Keep a small object with you to touch or play with when you get triggered. Good examples include a smooth stone, a fidget toy, jewelry, or a tiny plushy

Bite into a lemon, orange, or lime, suck on a sour or minty candy or an ice cube, chew cinnamon-flavored gum, or put a few drops of Tabasco sauce on your tongue. Notice the flavor, scent, and texture

Eat something or drink warm tea, coffee, or hot chocolate, and describe to yourself the taste and texture in great detail

Place a cool wash cloth on your face or hold something cold like a can of soda

Listen to soothing or familiar music. If possible, dance to it

Hum, sing, recite poetry, or make up a silly poem or story as you go

Pick up a book and read the first paragraph out loud

Hug another person (if interpersonal touch isn't a trigger). Pay attention to your own pressure and the physical sensations of doing so

Hug a tree! Register the smells of being outside, the wind, and the sights around you

Movement-Based Grounding Techniques

Breathe deeply and slowly and count your breaths

Grab tightly onto your chair or press your feet against the ground as firmly as you can

Rub your palms and clap your hands or wiggle your toes within your socks. Pay attention to the physical sensation of doing so

Stretch out your arms or legs, roll your head on your neck, or clench and unclench your fists

Stomp your feet, walk around, run, jump, ride a bike, do jumping jacks, or do yoga

While walking, notice each footstep and say to yourself "right" and "left" to correspond with the foot currently moving

Squeeze a pillow, stuffed animal, or ball

If you have a soft pet (dog or cat), brush its fur and stroke it. If you don't, brush your own hair slowly and without pulling too much

Color in an adult coloring book, finger paint, or draw anything that comes to mind without worrying about quality

Write whatever comes to mind even if it's nonsense. Try not to write about whatever is upsetting you until you're more capable of doing so without increasing the upset

Write a list of things that make you happy or look for cheerful pictures to make into a collage

Pop bubble wrap or blow and pop actual bubbles

Dig in the dirt or garden, jump on a pile of leaves, or splash around in puddles or mud

Rip up paper or stomp on aluminum cans to crush them

Imagery Techniques

Picture yourself breathing in relaxation, calm, positive feelings, or strength. Picture yourself breathing out whatever is upsetting you. It may help to pair this with imagery of breathing in soothing colors (usually blue, purple, or green) and out more intense colors (usually red or black)

If you need to relax, envision a soothing white or golden light slowly moving up your body, warming and relaxing every part of you that it touches. You can also think of it as protecting you from negativity or from harm

If the problem is intense or uncomfortable emotions, physical sensations, or memories, picture them being surrounded and neutralized by a bright and healing light, temporarily placed in a mental box to be stored for later, or dialed back by an internal controller of intensity

If you have a clear mental picture of what's upsetting you, mentally change it to something silly or harmless. If you're a fan of Harry Potter, cast a mental "riddikulus" to banish the negativity

Picture yourself calm, focused, and able to tackle whatever problems you're facing. Focus on how that would feel in the moment. What would your expression and posture be like? Make whatever changes you need to in order to make your reality reflect your goal

How to Make a Grounding Box

Get a box or basket

Personalize and decorate it with construction paper, wrapping paper, ribbon, stickers, drawings, paint, photographs, glitter, sequins, or anything else that you like

Keep within it:

A list of grounding techniques that you know work for you

A list of positive affirmations and happy memories

A list of the contact information of trusted friends or family who are willing to help and support you

Small sensory objects such as: scented candles, perfumes, or lotions; hard candies or gum; soft fabrics, a stress ball, a stuffed animal, or a fidget toy; happy pictures of you with friends; a CD with relaxing music or meditation tracks. Try to cover all of the senses

A list of possible distractions such as books to read or movies to watch

Small portable distractions such as a pack of playing cards, a small game, or a joke book

A list of comforting things to do such as taking a bubble bath, snuggling up in bed, or meditating

A small journal or notebook

In the Case of a Flashback

Tell yourself that you are having a flashback and are safe now

Remind yourself that the worst is over, and you survived it. What you're feeling now is just a reminder of that trauma and does not fit the present moment

Remind yourself of when and where you are, who you're currently with, and who you can contact if you need help (use the reorientation-focused grounding techniques)

Breathe deeply and slowly. Count your breathes and make sure that you're getting enough air

Use other mental, sensory, movement, and imagery techniques in order to distract yourself, calm yourself, and reorient yourself within the present

If possible or necessary, go somewhere where you can be alone or with a close friend, where you will feel safe, or where you feel protected or shielded

If there is anyone who you can trust or who will support you, reach out to them, let them know what happened, and let them know what you need, what would be best for you, or what they could do to help

Be gentle with yourself and take the time to really recover. If what helps you to recover is to color, take a bubble bath, hug a stuffed animal, or watch a children's movie and if it would not be disruptive to do such things at that point in time, embrace those options whole-heartedly

If possible, note or write down what triggered the flashback, what techniques you tried to use to disrupt the flashback, and what techniques helped

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batboyblog · 2 years

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What's in a name: Captain Marvel Vs. Shazam

It's come to my attention I must once again teach you all the history of comics, Captain Marvel and Copyright so here we go

April 18th 1938 National comics (they officially changed their name to DC in 1977) published Action Comics #1

bring the world Superman and the dawn of the age of Superhero comics. needless to say superheroes and Superman in particular was as popular with children of the late 1930s and early 40s as marbles and chewing gum (it was a much more boring age)

enter Fawcett Comics a somewhat struggling publisher. Fawcett looked at Superman and said "we need us one of those!" so in 1940 Whiz Comics #2 they did just that:

we can see how the guys at National got a little annoyed. Today many many years into Superheroes being a thing no one would think to sue over a character so different from Superman. But in 1941 Superheroes as an idea were less than 5 years old and the beefy, black haired hero with a cape and chest symbol, and also super strength and flight seemed to the DC people to be just like they're Superman. Now of course the powers came from different places, Superman is an Alien, Captain Marvel got his powers from a wizard.

but most importantly while Superman out of tights was an adult, Clark Kent, with a job, reporter Daily Planet, Captain Marvel's secret identity was a kid, the 9 year old Billy Batson.

The comic reading public of the 1940s was almost exclusively 7 to 13 year old boys. So nationally making a hero who was also a boy in that age group made Captain Marvel insanely popular. In 1941 Captain Marvel overtook Superman as the most popular comic in the market.

So DC sued Fawcett for copyright. The suit was filed in 1941 but pre-trail nonsense dragged it out so the case didn't make it into court till 1948 (that'll be important later).

The Case had one of the most jaw dropping rulings in Copyright history and it still keeps me up at night. National Comics basically got Fawcett employees to testify that they'd been ordered to copy Superman and had lots of comic panels where Captain Marvel was doing basically the same thing as Superman had in issues that came out earlier. Fawcett's lawyers did what I think they thought was a Hail Mary, they claimed National had no copyright on Superman, and they won.

You see in 1939 National comics signed a deal with the New paper company, McClure, to publish a Superman comic strip in their news papers

The Court found that National had failed to put copyright notices on some of the strips. As such the court ruled that DC had abandoned the copyright to Superman and so had no right to sue anyone about it. The Court also found that Captain Marvel had been an illegal copy of Superman, but again National had no rights to Superman so it didn't matter.

Understandably DC basically shit their pants, they'd just lost the rights to their most important asset. They appealed in 1951 Judge Learned Hand (I only put his name because it's a great name for a judge) ruled that 1. DC did have rights to Superman, but the comic strips were in public domain. 2. Captain Marvel himself was not an illegal copy of Superman but some stories were clear copies of Superman stories and were infringement.

The fact that the law suit had stretched out to 1948-51 is a key part of the story. After WWII the superhero comic market crashed. Comic book stores didn't exist at the time, comics were sold at news paper stands and corner stores. There was no where to get a back issue. Kids who were 12 or 13 in 1938 got drafted off to war in 1943-44. As part of the war effort there was a massive drive to recycle everything including paper. Moms across America were more than happy to recycle "trashy" comic collections.

the crash was so bad effectively every superhero comic publishing company went broke, the field went from about a dozen companies to just one, DC. Only Superman and Batman proved popular enough to stay in the popular imagination, you didn't need a back issue because every then, like today knew the backstory of Superman and Batman.

Fawcett Comics was not so lucky, while Captain Marvel had been a great hit none of their other comics had done as well. By 1951 they were broke and couldn't fight National in court any more, they paid National $400,000 and agreed to never publish another Captain Marvel comic again. And with that Fawcett Comics effectively ended.

You may have noticed I said only DC made it through the post war Superhero Comic crash. That's mostly correct, in the 1940s a young Stan Lee worked for an outfit called "Timely Comics" which brought you Captain America, the original Human Torch, and Namor. Timely went bust in 1951, they limped on as Atlas Comics till 1956 when outside legal problems forced them to turn to DC for distribution and finally dying in 1957.

The original crew from Timely would reunite in 1961 to start Marvel and kick start the Sliver Age of comics.

All of this is relevant to Captain Marvel because in 1967 Marvel comics came up with it's own Captain Marvel. Now comes an important legal distinction, the difference between Copyright and Trademark. A Copyright is on a whole idea, So I can't take Superman the character and put him in a book, however, in theory I could nickname a character "superman" because he's really good at... baseball, or name a character "Clark Kent" the middle school science teacher. This is where Trademark comes in, trademark holds that certain words or images (such as a Superman S) can not be used to market things. So for example the words "Captain Marvel" are trademarked so can't be used to sell something.

The cover of a comic is marketing, it's trying to sell the comic to you, so a trademark means only Marvel Comics can put the words "Captain Marvel" on the cover of a comic (or movie, or say it in a trailer for a movie, etc) Marvel's Captain Marvels were never very popular but they kept them going because....

In 1972 DC bought the rights to Fawcett Comics' Captain Marvel. However they found they couldn't use his name on his comics. DC at different times tried to get Marvel to give up the trademark but they never did so DC did it's best to work around, generally bring out books with the "SHAZAM" title

I wish I could find it there's a comic I remember very clearly where they had him on the cover and it was like "guest starring you know who" and he was going "shhhh don't say the name"

any ways this was basically the status quote till 2012 when Marvel shifted it's popular Ms. Marvel character over to take over Captain Marvel's title and they finally had a popular Captain Marvel for the first time in 40 years. With that and the DC universe getting rebooted in 2011 for the New52 DC finally decided to cut losses and give up on calling the Big Red Cheese "Captain Marvel"

he's somewhat awkwardly just used "Shazam" for a name ever since though fans largely ignored it till the 2019 movie when new fans who only knew him as Shazam started to out number older fans, particularly after Marvel's Captain Marvel movie in 2019 clearly pushed her into the lead on "who's Captain Marvel" in the public imagination.

#Captain Marvel #billy batson #Superman #copyright #Shazam #Trademark

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to-star-lake · 3 years

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An early scene from the let you go verse ✿☾

Geto had never seen anyone move that fast.

Sure, Gojo’s fast, and so is he, but you-

You were a veritable storm of movement, a blur of speed and precision.

He fanned his hand in front of his face, coughing as the billowing clouds of dust and rubble settled and the smoke cleared.

And there you were, crouched on one knee, your hands holding down the pair of curses the two of you were assigned to exorcise, a first mission for you. And there he was, standing awkwardly, wide-eyed, while the colossal tiger curse he summoned purred beside him, rolling on its back.

He cleared his throat, shaking thoughts away, dismissing the curse, and made his way towards you. The curses under your grasp groaned in unholy voices, and he watched, unable to tear his eyes away as your fingers closed even more tightly around their necks, your expression stone cold, unchanged.

“I could’ve helped,” he managed, quietly thankful that his voice didn’t crack at that moment.

You shrugged carelessly. “You didn’t need to.”

“Aren’t you going to exorcise them?” he tilted his head, failing to hide the intrigue in his voice.

“Yaga told me to let you exorcise them whenever possible.” He watched your face lift and your eyes met his. “He said you can control them.”

He paused for a moment, considering your words and nodded. He held out his right hand, palm open, enabling his technique and he watched your expression intently as one of the curses in your grasp warped into a dark, rumbling swirl in his palm, forming a crystal black orb.

Your eyes were focused on him, on the warbling sphere on his palm, and a twinge of self-consciousness hit him as he raised the orb to his lips, consuming it. Your eyes held no expression, he could not read what you were thinking, as much as he wished he could in that moment. But your eyes were so focused on him, so present, like you saw him so clearly and he almost wished you didn’t.

The other curse was churning into his palm and it had almost completely absorbed into an orb when you asked, “Can I hold it?”

He looked at you, wide-eyed, almost in disbelief as the question reached his ears.

Why? He wanted to ask. But didn’t. It can’t hurt you. And you can’t hurt him..right?

He took a step toward you, slow, cautious, the gently revolving curse in his palm out, a cursed offering to you.

“You should concentrate cursed en-” He didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t need to. You held your hands out, cupped next to each other, cursed energy coursing to your palms.

Carefully, gently, he tilted his hand over yours, passing the orb onto your hands and one might mistake this care for the object like it was something precious, but it isn’t. He'd never handed over an absorbed curse to anyone else (no one else had ever wanted it). He didn’t know what would happen.

He’d only noticed he’d been holding his breath, and let out a purposeful exhale when he saw the orb floating in your palms and in your hands, this wretched thing almost looked precious, like a gleaming black pearl between iridescent ivory shells.

He watched you looking down at it, a glittering reflection of the cursed orb in your eyes.

“And then you eat it?” your voice was much quieter than before.

“I consume it, yes.” he answered, the tenor of his voice matching yours.

His breath hitched as he watched you lift the orb to your lips, the tip of your tongue peeking from between your teeth, and you-

You tasted it.

He let out a ragged breath, hoping you couldn’t hear it.

Say something. He clenched his fists at his sides, desperately grasping for words in his mind. Do something. But he was frozen, the bottoms of his shoes cemented to the ground where he stood. He dug and dug, his efforts in vain, to find something behind your stoic expression.

It’s grotesque, isn’t it? This hideous thing I do. And now you’ve seen it. I shouldn’t have shown you. I shouldn’t have let you..

Finally you looked up, your eyes meeting his and you handed the curse back to him just as carefully as he passed it to you.

“That’s disgusting.”

“Ha..” the relief was audible in his voice at the way you said that. Your expression still hadn’t changed, but dare he say it, he definitely heard it, there was an almost playful edge to the way you said it.

“Hey, can we stop in that convenience store real quick?”

Geto turned to look at you, your small hand tugging at the sleeve of his uniform, the other pointing to a brightly lit building surrounded by vending machines past an empty parking lot.

He took out his phone to check the time.

“Yeah, are you hungry?” There was still time before the train back to Tokyo leaves.

“Yes,” you replied simply and bounded through the entrance to the little store. He took a seat on one of the benches outside by a vending machine, and a couple of minutes passed before he saw you poke your head out from the doors.

“Aren’t you coming in?”

“I’m not hungry,” he smiled. He never had any appetite and wouldn't for a long time after consuming a curse.

“Ok, I’ll just be a minute.”

He sat, looking out at nothing, replaying that moment over and over in his mind. The image of you, holding the small, black orb to your lips, the tip of your tongue grazing its surface-

“Here.”

He blinked, time finally catching up to him. He watched you take a seat beside him, holding a lollipop out for him. For me? And you nodded, nudging it closer to him, like you could hear the question in his mind.

He took it from you, and watched you drop a full bag of food down onto your lap. You unwrapped and took a bite out of the onigiri that you held in the other hand.

You must’ve noticed the way he was staring, because you turned and answered the question he didn't ask, “My cursed technique churns through my physical energy stores, so I’m always hungry,” you explained flatly. “I got you some cup ramen and onigiri too. For the train, in case you get hungry later.”

He laughed softly, he couldn’t help himself - the way you muttered through a mouth full of food, a little smudge of nori on your cheek, so different from the way you were when you defeated those curses, so human, so honest, so young..

“And this is what, an appetizer?” he chuckled, unwrapping the lollipop after reading the label. Sour apple.

“No, that’s a palate cleanser,” you replied simply. But your words caused him to freeze mid-movement. He felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach at the implication.

He took a careful inhale, forcing himself to move after a moment, and brought the lollipop to his lips. “I know it’s unpleasant. I can go buy some chewing gum-” He stood, turning away, his eyes dark beneath the fallen strands of his hair.

“Shit-”

A gentle tug at his shirtsleeve.

“Geto, I’m sorry..”

He turned, a practiced smile on his face. “You don’t have to apologize. I normally go on missions alone, so there’s no one to converse with..no one to care..and I’m so used to it that I hardly notice it anymore.” This last was a lie; he couldn’t not notice it.

“No, I mean-”

He watched your expression twist into something he hadn’t seen before. An emotion was manifesting in your eyes. What is it?

He watched you inhale deeply, your chest rising. He hung on the edge of every millisecond that passed.

“It’s not that. It’s not what you’re thinking,” you began, your voice softer than usual. He watched you scoff lightly, shaking your head a little before meeting his gaze.

“This isn’t normal, what you and I do, what we are, you know that right?” You glanced over at a boy and girl across the street, hand in hand, in their high school uniforms, skipping along, laughing, so immersed in their own world it was palpable.

“You don’t seem like the kinda guy that ever complains,” you continued, your eyes meeting him again. “I might be out of line for saying this, but I want to make sure you know- what you do, this is not something you should ever have to get used to. This isn’t normal. I know you probably have some belief system, some cause you’ve dedicated yourself to. To help people who can’t help themselves, because you can, so you think you should, right? Because you have this ability. But I hope you know that it doesn’t have to be at the expense of your own happiness. It’s not selfish to look inward once in a while. If you’re suffering, if you’re in pain- you should know that it’s valid. And that lollipop, it’s just a reminder, an entry back into the real world after you’ve consumed a curse.”

You turned, moving back to take a seat on the bench, resuming bites out of the onigiri in your hand while he was stunned, frozen where he stood.

“I apologize for my candor,” you muttered, your cheek puffed with food. “It’s an unattractive quality. But I hate it when people get so caught up in themselves that they lose sight of what makes them great.”

It doesn’t have to be at the expense of your own happiness…

It’s not selfish to look inward once in a while…

If you’re in pain, you should know that it’s valid…

This is a reminder…

…

What is this feeling?

A slow simmer in his gut, it was warm, fluttering gentle caresses up his spine, it rose up and brought warm heat to his cheeks, a flush of pink under his skin.

He looked at you from where he stood, and from your feet, he watched the rest of the world suddenly emerge in vibrant color- the way the summer air smelled, the soft chirping of crickets from the trees in the distance, the low rumbling of a faraway storm..

Everything that had faded into the background, that he’d pushed to the far back of his consciousness because for as long as he can recall, he was actually the one being consumed by the curses in his possession. And he’d gotten so good at hiding what plagued him, that he was even starting to believe it himself, believing that everything was fine. But by the sweet, clear succession of your words, everything was brought to life, screaming and vivid.

In that moment, he stood on this Earth, just a boy, and you, just a girl; someone from that moment on, he knew he wanted to protect with his life.

#getou suguru x reader #geto fluff #geto blurbs #getou x y/n #geto x reader #jjk x you #getou scenario

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loversandantiheroes · 3 years

Note

Can. Can we talk about how dexterous and clever Whiskey’s hands are. Can we talk about how strong and nimble and skilled they are. Can we.

(Hands anon) And honestly I’m a Frankie and Mando girl as well, you KNOW they hands are just as good 👌🙌

I want you to know I have tried to come back to this ask I don’t know HOW many times, but I always get incredibly distracted and just kind of stare into space with my eyes glazed over for like forty-five minutes. Can’t imagine why...

1.8k words of pure hand-related yearning featuring Din, Frankie, Whiskey, and a bonus Ezra bc I was compelled.

Din’s hands are exactly what you’d expect in some ways - broad and strong as vise-grips, but meticulously deft when it comes to things that require care, whether that’s stripping down his weapons to clean them or patching your wounds (a surprise in and of itself given the impatient, almost flippant way he tends to the holes in his own hide). What is surprising is just how soft his hands are under those ever-present gloves. If you ever bring it up he’ll only huff a laugh, insisting his hands are as much a part of his toolkit as his weapons and his armor, and he wouldn’t be much of a Mandalorian if he didn’t take care of his tools. Unpainted beskar needs to be cleaned and polished frequently, his guns need to be maintained, and the leather of his gloves need oiling to stay supple. And his hands, too, need maintaining. And well, hide is hide, and the oil he uses on his leathers goes a long way towards making sure his hands don’t crack or chap.

He’s a man of opposites, especially once you start to get past his defenses. He can be absolutely unyielding and also shockingly gentle. With the armor on he can be almost brazen about the way he touches you, particularly if what’s between you is purely physical. Just scratching an itch? Oh, he can do that, that’s easy. And those hands can lock you down better than any binders. But if it becomes more than that, if he starts pulling you close when he’s just down to his flight suit and there’s no cold press of metal between you, and finally works up the courage to pull those soft-worn gloves off? It’s hard to imagine this is the same man. He’s hesitant. Nearly timid, you think at first, until you realize his hands aren’t trembling just from nerves but from the effort of control. Touch is a luxury Din has never been afforded, something new to learn in the dark of his bunk with you pressed up against him with your back to his chest, overwhelmed by the simple contact of his fingers curling hesitantly around your own. Give him time to breathe, to process, to touch without fear that it will overload him or that he might by some pure accident of excitement touch too hard and hurt when he doesn’t mean to (it is, he still thinks on his more rueful days, what he is built for; not this tenderness). Your patience will absolutely be rewarded.

Frankie’s a bit of a different story, bless his heart. His nails are starting to look a little less ragged these days - the nicotine gum has gone a long way towards both helping him back off the cigarettes and keep him from chewing them ragged when his anxiety’s off the rails - but given when he’s grounded he tends to go for more hands-on jobs, his hands can take a horrible beating. If he’s not seeing anyone he doesn’t bother much trying to take care of them beyond pumice soap and the occasional application of vaseline or bag balm in the winter time when they get chapped. But if that should change, suddenly he’s blisteringly self-conscious about his hands. The spots where the skin is rough and peeling, the calluses that he’ll never be able to file down and the ones he is only just beginning to see fade (index finger, between the first and middle digits - his thumb still worries over it absently, as if trying to rub it out). He buys a nail brush, starts using balm every night, trying to work the coarseness out of his hands before he ever dares to touch you with them.

And god he wants to touch you. Touch is a grounding thing for him, a much-needed anchor to keep him in the here and now. If he’s near enough you’re almost certain to find his hands on you - snaking his fingers between yours, or resting his hand light and warm against your thigh when you come along for a drink with the boys, or pressing his palm flat and solid against your back to keep you steady when he walks you to the car after. And that’s maybe the thing that clings to your bones the strongest: how safe those hands make you feel. He’ll learn your body until he knows every dip and curve, knows the paths to skate his fingertips along, where to press in deep, where to only graze until he’s got every nerve singing. But it’s that sense of safety that overwhelms you, that feeling when his hands cup your face or settle gently on your hips or close warmly around your own that there isn’t a force in the world that could hurt you as long as he’s there.

Tell him so. Fold his hands up in your own, brush your lips over his knuckles, and tell him that you know you’re in good hands - in the best hands. It’ll nearly crack his heart in half to hear it. He knows what those hands have done, no matter how hard he’s tried to wash them clean of it. But if they can make you feel safe, then maybe they’re worth something after all.

Whiskey is too vain not to take care of his hands, let’s be honest. Though there is a bit of practicality to his vanity - there always is, somehow, like the grain of sand that spawns a pearl. He learned early enough that if he was fool enough not to take care of his hands it played hell with his ability to use them properly, and much like Din, he fully recognizes that his hands are as much a necessary tool as anything Statesman could provide him. Decades of experience with his lasso, whip, and guns have left the palms of his hands thickly callused (his right only slightly more so than his left), but careful attention has assured they’re never outright rough. The way he uses those hands, though, that’s a different story. They’re strong and shockingly clever, and just as greedy as the rest of him. Whiskey has a permanent case of Roman hands and Russian fingers, all too likely to have his hand dangerously high up your thigh in public (and far higher still if you’ll let him), but always just out of the view of the people around you. He’s a menace, through and through, but rest assured, he won’t be putting his hands on you unless he’s sure you want that (and if you do, he will absolutely make every second count - he is as greedy for your pleasure as he is his own).

If he’s managed to get himself in a state where there’s more than just his libido involved, well, it’d be disingenuous to suggest that tactile greed ever goes away, there isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of that, but it does change. He still wants to touch you (there isn’t a second in the day this man does not want to be touching you, somehow in some way), but it’s different. It’s smaller touches among the big ones, almost innocuous. Fixing your necklace when it’s crooked. An idle stroke of his thumb along your wrist, or a brush of his fingers along your forehead to sweep the hair out of your eyes. Helping you in or out of your coat, or taking a knee to do up the laces of your winter boots, or nuzzling ever so briefly into the back of your neck while his clever fingers cinch up a knot into the new apron you bought while you were on a baking kick. The man’s got twenty years of latent domesticity stored up and he can’t quite help it if you bring it out in him.

When you meet Ezra, he’s down to just the one hand, though you don’t quite notice at first. You're making your introductions - new dig crew, small, but seemingly well-seasoned, even counting the young girl that keeps a nervous orbit around Ezra - not quite clocking the way his right arm moves just a little different under the thick fabric of his suit until you close your hand around his and feel the hardness of metal under his glove. If anyone is bold enough to ask how he lost the arm, he’ll just give a grin and insist it is not lost: he remembers exactly where he left it. His remaining hand is striking somehow when you first see it without the thick gloves on. Wide palm, thick fingers, a prominent thumb joint. A small black target tattooed there in the webbing between his thumb and forefinger. But his right hand, his new hand, he never takes the glove off of that one. It’s accident the first time you see the thing in full, poking your head in his tent to let him know breakfast is running a little late on account of a brief problem with the water pump. You find him sitting on his bunk in a battered thermal shirt with one sleeve cut off, his suit shoved down to his waist as he wrestles the prosthetic into place as Cee adjusts the harness over his shoulders. It’s by no means top of the line, but it’s no cheap thing, that much you can tell. The fingers, you know by now are fully articulated, and you can see now the digits and palm are thickly padded with silicone grips. Ezra’s face hardens at the intrusion, Cee freezing behind him like a startled deer. But then he sees it’s only you and the tension drains, his face softening, and he assures you they’ll both be out in a tick, just as soon as he’s made himself presentable.

It’s weeks later that you realize he’s only ever touched you with his right hand once. Just the handshake that first day. It’s tough to notice, honestly. He’s not one to crowd into your space if you don’t want it, unless of course he’s trying to make a point. You remember the floater that had wandered into your camp trying to make trouble, and the way Ezra had put a seemingly amiable hand on the man’s shoulder as he talked, smiling big and broad, and it wasn’t until the man cried out, dropping to his knees and clutching uselessly at his shoulder that you realized the full strength he carries in that prosthetic. But every time Ezra is close enough to you to touch, it’s his left that finds you. He makes a point of it, even going so far as to stay to your right when you walk together, but you don’t fully notice until one day he turns to you with an awkward twist to take hold of your arm with his left rather than his right.

It’s later, much later, in the dim quiet of your own tent, when the small touches finally snowball into something larger and more urgent and finally you feel that hand on you, bare and broad and warm as he cups the back of your neck to draw you close, and he almost laughs into your mouth when you suddenly ask him why he does that.

“Dear heart, if I am to touch you, I mean to feel it.”

Perma-Tag: @missredherring @dovesnroses @astroboots @magpierhymes @alienprincesspoop @aasimarr @maythxthirstbxwithyou @recklesswit

Pedro Perma-Tag: @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @corvueros @thirstworldproblemss @littleferal @krissology @frannyzooey @Forallthestarsinthesky @princess76179

#Anonymous #pedro pascal #din djarin #frankie morales #agent whiskey #jack whiskey daniels #ezra #ezra prospect #hands hands hands #shockingly tame all things considered #ezra's breaking pattern a bit but hell #I finished a thing #I'll take it #this is the part where I have a mild panic over whether or not I should be using taglists for headcanons #I think too much #idk lmk if you don't want to be tagged in these things #I'm gonna go drink coffee and wash dishes

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

Text

Unfinished Business ~ Part Two

WORD COUNT: 2.8K (This is the shortest chapter I believe in this series)

WARNINGS: Mentions of mafia, strong language,

PAIRING: Bang Chan X Reader

DESCRIPTION: Part Two of nine of my new Bang Chan series.

You’re taken hostage but one of Seoul’s leading mafia families Bang Chan but he doesn’t take you because he wants to fake a marriage or make you fall for him in 365 days no…He wants to use you for his own personal gain. To take over another family but when you try to escape things take a turn for the worst and you learn Chan isn’t one to be messed with.(Please I suck at describing stuff)

THEMES: Smut will be included in a later chapter (It will state which chapter) so this is a fic for a mature audience, Chan x Fem!Reader, Self insert

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

Light poured in through the bars of the basement window and you groaned groggily as you woke up, you opened your eyes squinting at the sudden sunlight you had no idea where you were but it wasn't home. You stared around the room trying to get used to the low light, you were about to move your leg when you felt something tug on your ankle. It was a tingle sensation running through your ankle as you tried to move it, whatever it was attached to your ankle hurt to move and you felt a jolt of pain tear through your anklebone,

"Shit." You hissed eyes glancing down to your legs to see that around your ankle was a rusted silver chain, not just a chain but a huge silver and rusted chain attached to a brick wall with screws.

"What the fuck?" Using your hands you struggled against the chain trying to tug it away from the wall or from your ankle when you heard a deep chuckle come from the other side of the room and it made you jump.

"Hello!?" Your voice came out more panicked than you had intended but you stood your ground - or rather sat your ground. You couldn't move from the spot you were in and you still couldn't see anything inside of the room.

"You won't get out." The lights flicked on and you looked around, eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness to see another one of the men from the bar. The bar. You were starting to remember what happened after you left work, images flashing back into your brain as you remembered Jisung showing up there and being shoved into the back of a car. Panic rushed through your body as you realised who they all worked for.

"What do you want with me? I don't have any money." You kept trying to struggle out of the chain but it was slammed down on the ground and you hissed as it sent pain through your ankle which was now throbbing in pain the moment it was flung down.

"We don't want money. I'm just here until Jisung comes to watch you. Your personal guard." The man leant back in his chair and smirked at you, he was staring at you trying to size you up as you tried to get away from him as fast as you could but it wasn't working. You couldn't go anywhere.

"Please tell me what you want.." You felt pathetic for begging to him like this but you wanted to know why you were there and how long they were going to keep you if it meant trying to play the weak victim than so be it.

"I don't want anything with you, but you may want to think about lying again. Lying gets you nowhere with Chan." He got up from the chair and walked over to you, bending down so he could come face to face with you looking you in the eyes.

"Chan doesn't like liars," He patted the top of your head as if you were nothing but a dog and smirked at you, popping some chewing gum in his mouth before getting up and moving away from you once again and going towards the staircase that lead up to a steel door where he slammed it shut and locked it tightly from the outside.

"Fuck." You whimpered as you were left down in the basement once again, you pulled at the chain trying to get out of it as much as possible. Wiggling the chains to try and loosen the screws on the wall but they looked fresh and you knew it was useless to even try harder than you were, it would only hurt more. You stared around the floor for anything to use on the lock but there was nothing, then you remembered your hair. You reached up and took a pin from it jamming it into the lock around your ankle and began to use it to pick the lock. It was no big deal, you used to pick locks on the other side of town all the time, trying to find somewhere to sleep whenever you ran away from home before your parents passed away but this lock was different. A simple pin from your hair wasn't going to crack it, the door opened and you panicked trying to get the pinout but it snapped instantly. You shifted so your ankle would be hidden from whoever it was coming down the staircase, you looked up to see the youngest one that had been with Chan the night before. His hair was a dark blue colour and he looked innocent, his name was Jeongin or at least that was what Jisung had called him at the table.

"You alright?" You were taken back, were you alright? What kind of question was that? You were chained up in someone's basement, you had no idea where you were or if you were even safe.

"You tell me, I'm chained up in some creeps basement with guys coming to check on me." You snapped back and he chuckled at you, coming down onto the floor and sliding you a sandwich on a plate.

"A peace offering," You stared down at the sandwich, your stomach sounded like a bear the way it was growling at you but you weren't about to take food from someone who had kidnapped you late at night and was currently holding you in a basement for their boss without someone giving you a reason why.

"Not hungry," You lied,

"What are you doing?" He asked nodding over at your ankle, you shifted again so he couldn't see but winced as the chain pulled to hard and cause more pain to spread through your leg.

"Can you please tell me what I'm doing here?" He sat down on the sofa where Changbin had been sat and you stared at him,

"Can you at least tell me your name? What does it matter if I'm clearly not getting out of here." He sighed looking down at you, he didn't want to do this and neither did the other boys but it was something they had to do. What Chan said went since he was their boss, he didn't care about anyone.

"Look...You ruined Chan's suit, it cost more than you could make in four months so I think he's going to make you pay for it." You shook your head,

"My father has money, how much do you-"

"We know you're not from this side of town and we know you don't have any family except for your cafe manager and your grandfather in that home." You froze in place. How did he know that? He stared down at you and bit on his lip. No-one knew about your grandfather except for Mrs Lu and the nursing home that he lived in,

"If I were you, I'd start being honest the moment Chan comes to see you, he hates liars." He whispered looking over at the door and then at the sandwich that was still on your plate. You weren't going to eat it in case he was trying to poison you or put you to sleep with some kind of drug inside of it.

"Suit yourself." He got up and walked to you, taking the sandwich and biting into it himself as he walked back up the staircase and left you down there alone.

"She thinks she's smart," Jeongin laughed dropping the plate down onto the kitchen table that you thought had been poisoned on something. He looked at Felix and Jisung who were both sitting there and having their own lunch wondering what had happened in the basement.

"What did she do?" Jeongin chuckled and swallowed the sandwich he'd been eating, he had made it for you. He thought it would make it easier for you to have a friend while you were there but you weren't going to be nice to anyone any time soon.

"She tried a bobby pin in the lock, obviously it didn't work but she's smart." They all stopped laughing when they heard Chan coming into the room everything falling into silence as soon as he came into any room,

"What's funny?" Chan looked at them all and Jisung stood up looking down at his plate and going to wash it up,

"She tried to get out, used a bobby pin but it snapped inside the lock," Chan laughed and looked over to the basement door that you were being kept in.

"I like her, she's a fighter." They all knew the real reason Chan was keeping you here and it was for the plan he had in store for you as soon as he got you to confess who you really were that was. The plan was to get you to confess that you worked for Namjoon, once he got that out of you he'd move onto drawing Namjoon out with you so he could kill him.

"Did she eat anything?" He only questioned because he could see the sandwich on the plate, Jeongin shook his head and Chan went over to the cupboard grabbing bits of food from the cupboard that he thought you would like.

"I'll make her eat."

The door creaked open and you squinted over at the entrance to see Chan, he was dressed in suit pants and a white shirt which was unbuttoned at the top, his tie draped around his neck and he had a smirk on his face as he came over to you.

"I brought you some food, eat it." It wasn't a suggestion, it was an order and he threw the food down by your feet. You swallowed the lump in your throat, you weren't afraid of him he just made you a little nervous to be around him since he was good looking there was no denying that. The way he held himself, as though he was better than you and that he was in control of everything around him made you on edge.

"I said eat it, you look sick." He kicked his feet up as he sat down on the sofa that was in the basement and then he rolled his sleeves up on the white shirt he was wearing exposing his veiny arms, he cleared his throat and waited for you to eat. Taking the packet of crisps you opened it up and took one of the crisps out and put it in your mouth staring at him with a condescending smile,

"Happy?" He licked his teeth and cocked his head to the side he liked that you were being cocky with him,

"Not until you finish the full packet." You stared down at the packet and pushed it away from you deciding you weren't going to do as he told you.

"Not hungry." You lied and he leant forward putting elbows on his knees and staring you down.

"Eat it before I ram them down your throat." You didn't flinch, you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he could intimidate you into being scared and follow his orders he wasn't in charge of you.

"Why am I here?"

"Eat the crisps and I'll give you answers."

"Give me answers and I'll eat the crisps." He laughed sarcastically at how you were acting with him, he liked that you didn't care what he thought and what others told you about him. He knelt down in front of you still laughing until he grabbed onto your chin and forced you to look at him.

"I could fucking kill you right now, you know that?" You stared into his eyes as he stared down into yours. On the outside, he was this cold-blooded killer but on the inside, he was a scared boy and you could tell all of that by one look. He looked down at your leg and then up to your face

"Struggle all you want but you won't get out of that chain." He smirked going back to the sofa and kicking his legs back up on the table.

"What do you want with me?" You barked at him and he rolled his eyes reaching down onto the table and pulling up a red file with your name on the front of it.

"I want to know who you work for, I want to know why you're lying about your life and I want to know who the fuck you are." He threw the file down in front of you and you pulled it open, inside were photos of you in both sides of town living your double life taken by police by the looks of it. Going to both jobs and changing on the bus, changing out of your gross cafe clothes into the nice clothes you wore for the other side of town.

"I work for Mrs Lu in a cafe on the bad side of town, I also work for you and I lie because my life is a fucking shit hole. Let me out of this fucking chain." You barked at him but he grabbed your face again and aimed you to stare down at the folder but he wasn't holding onto you tightly, it was just enough to direct you where he wanted you to look.

"Then why do I think you're lying to me, huh? Who lives a double life? People who have something to hide, someone who works for the mafia, people like you." You frowned at him and shook your head,

"Mafia people?"

"Don't play dumb, it doesn't suit you." You stared at him with a blank expression.

"I'm not playing dumb, I don't know anybody involved with the mafia but I'm assuming you do, considering I'm chained up in your basement." He smirked as you spoke back to him like this it had been so long since someone had tried to hold a real conversation with him.

"You don't work for Namjoon?" You shook your head and he hummed moving away from you and looking down at your ankle. It was starting to bruise and though he would never admit it aloud he felt bad that it was hurting you so much.

"I can loosen it if you promise not to run." You looked at him and then down at your ankle, it was in far too much pain for you to run but the moment he took it off you you were going to sprint as fast as you could.

"Please." You whispered and he moved closer to you pulling out the rest of the broken bobby pin and taking out a key from his pocket. He turned the key inside the lock and once it was off you didnt hesitate, you ran for the door but your legs were like jelly and the moment your left ankle hit the floor you screamed out and fell onto the floor.

"Silly girl. You've been chained up for 24 hours, your legs aren't going to work properly and your ankle looks pretty badly bruised as well." He sucked his teeth moving close to you and staring down at it trying to see if he'd broken it or not,

"Probably just some soft tissue damage. You'll be okay in a couple of days but until then." He bent down and picked you up and carried you over to the floor again where you had been sat. He turned you around and switched the chain over to the next foot so he wouldn't cause more damage to your foot.

"The next time you try to escape, I'll kill you." He got up from the floor and pointed at the file and then to the food.

"That's for you. I'll come down tomorrow and see if you're feeling more co-operative to work with us, I'd think long and hard though baby." He patted the top of your head just like Changbin had earlier and walked towards the staircase once again, your body seemed to yearn for him to come back. Beg for you not to let him leave you in this basement alone but the door slammed shut and the room was only lit up from the small window above your head. Flicking open the folder in front of you, you looked through all of the information they had on you. They had everything, including family history that you didn't even know, your mother and father had been scratched from the files since they were dead but your grandmother's records were there, her bills to Namjoon all displayed for you to see. You didn't even know she'd been taking money from him, no one had told you anything and it wasn't like your grandfather ever remembered anything like that.

A/n: This one was super short and boring but the next chapters are longer I promise

Tagline: @kneel-begyourpardon @snowy-meowl @moonprincessdiviniation @taestannie @km-98 @hugs4chan @calling-dips-on-j-hope @ncitythoughts @peachyhan

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heresalittlestory · 3 years

Text

The Gala Event

By The Scoop

‐-----------------------------

You’re at your desk at work one afternoon, taking a break to check your personal email. You get excited when you see that you have a message from Adam Yauch of the Beastie Boys. You’ve known him for a little over a decade, as you did some work for the Milarepa fund in the 90’s. You’re kind of surprised that you’ve casually stayed in touch with him for all of these years, and even though you’d call him more of an acquaintance than a friend, he’s always been very nice and sweet when you’ve spent time together. The last time you saw him was a few years ago, when his band was in town touring their To The 5 Boroughs album.

You see some other messages in your inbox, but click on Adam’s first. He writes that the Beastie Boys will be in your town this summer to tour their upcoming record, and wonders if you’d like to hang out then. He gives the date for the show, and refers to it a Gala Event, for which you should dress up. He says there will be another more casual show the night after, and you’re welcome to come to that one, too. You don’t want to come across as being too eager, but decide to write him back straight away that you’ll be around, and would love to see him in August.

The following week, you see a news announcement about Beastie Boys tour dates, and feel special that Adam gave you a heads up about them first. Since that message, you’ve been writing back and forth more frequently, catching each other up on how you’ve been for the past couple of years. He seems a little more communicative than he was around the time of the previous tour, and you try not to read too much into that. You’ve always thought he was very attractive, but kept things professional at first with him, and then platonic, assuming those feelings only went one way. You’ve also both been in relationships over the past decade, and Adam has a daughter, Lila. You’re not exactly sure about the current status of Adam’s relationship with Lila’s mom, as it’s not something he opens up about a lot, or that gets much attention in the press.

One day Adam sends an email asking whether you’ve picked out something nice to wear yet, and he adds a wink after the question. You feel your stomach flip, as you can’t tell whether or not he’s being flirtatious. It also reminds you that you still haven’t settled on your ensemble for the Gala. You generally don’t dress up too much and aren’t in love with anything in your closet, so decide to go shopping.

At the store, after trying on a lot of things, you settle on a red dress. The color choice seems a little bold, but you look good in red, and want to stand out from others who will probably be wearing a lot of black. You feel a little ridiculous also thinking about your undergarments, but decide to buy a new bra and panties for the show, too. Even if no one else sees them, they’ll make you feel good for that night.

As it gets closer to the date of the show, Adam calls you. You’re reminded how much you love the tone of his voice and trace of a New York accent. He mentions that the band will be busy with interviews beforehand, so he probably won’t get to see you till after the show. He says he’ll put you on his personal guest list, and to make sure you find him backstage later. You say that sounds like a plan. Before hanging up, he adds “Don’t forget to dress to impress.”

The day of the show comes, it’s a Friday, and you’re feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. You tell yourself you’re being silly and to calm down: there’s never been any funny business between you and Adam before, so why should this time be any different? You’ve been single for about a year now, but you’re still not sure of Adam’s status, and Google didn’t provide any help figuring that out. In any case, you can’t help but think that you’ve picked up on some flirtation in the correspondence, and something in your gut signals that maybe you should be expecting more than just a friendly hang out tonight.

You arrive at the venue early, and feel a sense of pride seeing your name on Adam’s list. You’re also handed an access pass to use later in the night. You make your way up toward the front of the concert hall and see Adam’s bass rig, noticing that a lot of the equipment is clear, which has a cool look. There are a few bass guitars on stage, including a large upright one. You’ve always thought Adam looked sexy on the bass, and you’re looking forward to seeing him play more of it tonight.

When the band comes out and takes their places, you spot Adam in a black suit and sunglasses, he appears very dapper. His hair is a little grown out and looks really nice. You glance at the others, and though they all look handsome in their suits, Adam Yauch definitely stands out the most to you.

The band starts playing an instrumental that sounds vaguely familiar. Adam is on the upright bass, and during the song, pulls out a bow with which to play it. You’re taken aback at how hot it is when he maneuvers the bow over the bass strings. The rich, deep sound resonates through your body.

Adam switches to another bass guitar, and the band starts playing a song off the new record. You enjoy watching Adam’s large, skillful hands on the bass. He flicks the strings a lot with his thumb, and it’s hard for your mind not to wander into the gutter seeing that repetitive motion. You look at Adam intently, wondering if you’ll catch his eye, but it’s hard to tell with the sunglasses on.

When the band begins a song with vocals, the crowd gets more pumped up, and you’re excited, too. It’s cool to see them rap while playing instruments. Adam’s bass strumming has been getting to you, and now his husky rapping is, too. After a few songs, he takes off his sunglasses and jacket. He’s wearing a short-sleeve striped shirt, and a tie with some design on it, with a tie pin. You’re trying to make the out the details on Adam’s tie, and think you see a lion on it, which reminds you that he’s a Leo. You remember back to when you once looked up your astrological compatibility, not that you entirely believe in those things. You look back up and see that Adam is staring in your direction, smiling. You mouth “hey” to him, and he nods in recognition.

You feel a small jolt of electricity as the band goes into the next instrumental. Maybe it’s something about the suave outfit and his long fingers on the bass, but you’re feeling more attracted to Adam than you’ve felt at previous Beastie Boys shows. You notice other details, like his persistent gum chewing, and how he’s been taking his ear piece in and out throughout the show. You brace yourself when the upright bass comes back out. You can’t deny that you’re turned on by the way Adam strokes the bass neck and moves his fingers across the strings. You try to calm down, as you’ll be seeing him after the show, and don’t want to feel embarrassed by such thoughts. It doesn’t help that from this close, you can see his sweat glistening.

The band gets to Sabotage, and you know it’ll be the last song of the night. You see out of the corner of your eye that their keyboardist is doing some crazy moves, but you can’t take your eyes off Adam. He takes his bass off at the end of the song and picks up a water bottle. You watch Adam wave as he walks off stage, and swear that you catch him winking at you.

As the crowd starts to file away, you get your access pass out of your purse and use it to get in the back area of the venue. You’re eventually let into a room where the band is. You admittedly feel some relief when you see that Adam’s partner (or former partner?) isn’t around, as both Mike’s and Adrock’s wives are there. Mike’s young sons are running around the room too. You’re feeling pretty dehydrated, but take a glass of champagne when a tray of it is passed by you. At least you have something to occupy your hands with now. You take some sips and try to get Adam to notice you. Your eyes meet and he wraps up the conversation he was having. He walks over to you and says, “Hey, red…,” instead of calling you by your name, “love the dress.” You blush a little and thank him. You notice he’s changed from the button down top into a polo shirt. He manages to look very cute and sexy all at once. You tell him how much you enjoyed the show and seeing the full band play throughout. “Oh thanks, you weren’t too bored? It seems like some people prefer the hip hop shows.”

You notice that the room is beginning to clear out. Adam mentions that some of the band and crew are heading to a nearby bar, “I said I’d be catching up with an old friend, if you’d rather bail on that.” You’re happy that he’s mentioned an out, though you’re not quite sure what he has in mind for you both. “Hang on a sec,” Adam says as he grabs his backpack, and also something that looks like an instrument holder, “just gonna take some things back with me.”

You step out the venue door and Adam gently touches the small of your back with his free hand. A shiver goes up your spine. Adam remarks that the hotel is nearby, so you walk the few blocks there. It’s one of the nicer hotels in town. This is the first time you’ve been back to a hotel with him. It seems like it could be the prelude to a hook up, but you still don’t want to get caught up in wishful thinking.

You and Adam get in the elevator and he pushes the button for a high floor. “And here we are,” he remarks, opening the door into a large suite. “Not too shabby,” you note, looking around. “Yeah, we do alright now,” Adam responds with a chuckle. He has the cutest sounding laugh, and you love how his smile is emphasized by his overbite. You don’t think of yourself as a very funny person, but you know that Adam can be, and you hope to joke with him and hear more of his laughter when you’re together. You realize you’ve gotten a little lightheaded from the champagne. As if reading your mind, Adam asks if you want something to eat or drink. There are several water bottles lined up on the counter, and he hands you one. He opens the door to the mini bar, which is pretty well stocked. You sit down and snack together.

The conversation flows easily enough. You share a lot of cultural interests, but also fill each other in on some things that the other hasn’t heard about. Adam recommends a documentary called the 11th hour, about how dire global warming has gotten and the opportunities we have to address the situation before it’s too late. You’re not surprised to hear him sound passionate on the topic. Meanwhile, you’re slightly distracted, as you can’t help but be really curious by now about his relationship status. He’s mentioned his daughter in emails, so you think of using kids as a way to broach the topic. You mention how you saw Mike’s sons backstage. “Oh yeah, they’ve been coming along, and Lila’s been with me some of the tour, but her mom has her now.” It sounds to you like they may not be an item anymore. All you say in response is, “Oh…,” and then Adam continues, “yeah, it’s been about a year and a half actually, things didn’t work out between us. But it was friendly, well, about as friendly as those things can be. We still live near each other in the city, and pretty much share custody, so it works out at least, in that way.” You want Adam to be happy and on the one hand, are sorry to hear that the relationship, which involved a kid, didn’t work out. But on the other hand, you feel glad, as selfish as it may be, that Adam could be available now. If he’s even interested in you in that way.

You tell him you’re sorry to hear what happened, but are glad he still gets to see Lila a lot. “Yeah, being a dad, it’s the greatest…,” he starts to say, and then trails off, looking at you as if what he said may have had some effect on you. You’re a single woman in your early 40’s, so the child-bearing window may be not open too much longer. You used to think that you’d be married and a mom by this point in your life, but after your longest, most serious relationships ended in your 30’s, you haven’t met anyone who’s been that great a prospect. Adam knows some of your story already. You don’t want to bore him with extra information about the ups and downs of your love life, so you mention that you haven’t been seeing anyone for a while, and really enjoy being an aunt to your niece and nephew.

Adam moves from the chair to a loveseat and motions for you to join him. He has his arm up on the sofa cushion, which you take as a cue to sit a little closer to him. “I was really looking forward to seeing you tonight. You know, red’s a really great color for you.” You feel his eyes scanning your body, and you’re flattered to be complimented by someone so attractive, talented, and intelligent. The conversation goes to how long you’ve known each other and how you always enjoy each other’s company. You wonder why you haven’t gotten together more often through the years. Adam’s hand moves down to your shoulder, and he seems to be looking at you more intently. He’s so gorgeous from this close, with large, soulful eyes, and full lips that you want to kiss so badly. You feel yourself flushing and swooning. You take your chances and move your face a little closer to his, and are delighted when you sense him lean in for a kiss.

Your lips touch softly at first. You detect a minty flavor, which must have lingered from his gum. You inhale and enjoy his smell, it’s slightly musky, and you think of how sweaty he got during the show. You normally prefer for guys to be cleaned up, but find it a turn on for Adam to be in this state. The kiss turns more passionate soon as your tongues meet and explore each other’s mouths.

You kiss and suck at each other more feverishly, feeling the heat from each other’s bodies. You run your hands through his thick hair, and up and down his lean back. He slides a hand down along your side, it grazes the edge of your breast and then settles on your thigh. Adam moves his hand to the inner side of your knee, just underneath your dress. You squeeze his hand between your thighs, thinking of how close his fingers are to where you really want to be touched. You usually don’t get wet as easily as you did when you were younger, but it’s like Adam has opened up the floodgates inside of you. You don’t necessarily buy into everything happening for a reason, but you’re glad you’re hooking up with Adam at this stage in your life. You feel more comfortable with yourself and sexually confident now. As much as you’re enjoying kissing Adam, you decide to back out of the embrace, and see if he’s game for something different. You’d be fine having any kind of sex with him, but you want to try to make the evening memorable. You also recall how great he looked playing the bass, and that gives you an idea.

“Is everything okay?” Adam asks. “Oh yeah, I’m good, really good,” you say, reassuring him that you’re pleased with the direction in which things are moving. “I was just thinking about the show again, and what a great bass player you are.”

“Me? I don’t know, I guess if you work at something long enough.”

You’re touched that he seems so humble about his talent. “It just looks complicated. I mean, especially that big bass. I can barely strum a few chords on the guitar.”

“It’s not so hard to pick up if you practice for a while, and…,” he trails off.

“And what?”

“Well, this might sound silly, but my hands are pretty big, which makes it easier to play, I guess.” Adam turns his hands over and you hold them in yours, as your mind moves back into the gutter. You don’t think you’ve ever been with a guy who has hands quite like his.

“Why don’t you show me?” you request, pulling Adam up from the couch. “What’s that song called, Sabrosa?”

“I don’t have the bass here with me.”

You look at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes, “I mean, demonstrate on me…”

Adam smirks in response, “Oh, I think I know what you’re getting at.” He stands behind you, and you ask, “Doesn’t Sabrosa mean tasty?”

“Something like that,” he answers with a

chuckle- it’s music to your ears to hear that laughter again. “Okay then, this is the hand that goes on the bass neck,” he states, putting his left hand on your breast. He arranges his dexterous fingers into some formation, as if he were playing bass notes. “And this one here, it plays the strings,” Adam continues, moving his right hand onto your crotch. He brushes his long fingers against you, as if he’s both swiping at and strumming you. Just as you’re wondering what kind of fuckery this is, Adam says, “And sometimes, you have to put your whole body into it.” He presses against you, and you feel his cock pulse against your backside. You can’t help but tremble from the ripples of pleasure coursing through you. Adam comments, “well, it goes something like that, playing the song, but the bass doesn’t move quite that much.” He giggles again. You didn’t want him to stop “playing” you, but you enjoy being teased.

“You know, I actually brought something with me,” Adam starts, and goes over to what you thought was an instrument case. He opens it and reveals the bow inside. If he doesn’t have his bass with him, you wonder why he brought the bow. You’re pleased at the forethought this would have required, and that his mind might be in the same kinky place as yours. “I like using this bow sometimes, you can get a really nice sound out of the bass with it.” Adam comes back over to you, gripping the bow as if he were about to use it on a bass. He rubs the bow string back and forth on your dress, right over your sensitive area. You make a pleased hum, and Adam brings the bow across you one more time, “Works like a charm.”

“I think you need to help me unzip my dress now,” you state. “Sure thing,” Adam replies, placing the bow back down. He undoes your zipper, but the dress still hangs loosely from your hips. “Maybe I can use this again,” Adam says, picking up the bow. You stand still as he uses the bow to nudge the dress down over your hips. Your breath quickens and you step out of the dress. You’re glad now that you splurged for the nice underwear. Adam eyes you up and down and gives a little whistle, “well you dressed to impress, and I’d say, this is also undressing to impress.” Your body isn’t as slim as it used to be, but you’re still in decent shape for your age. You’re glad he seems to appreciate you as you are.

“I think it’s your turn now,” you declare, and Adams removes his shirt and pants pretty quickly. He’s remained trim, but that doesn’t surprise you, as he’s always been a skinny guy. Seeing all his skin, and body hair, makes your groin ache even more. You get another idea, which seems a little crazy for foreplay, but you’re on a roll, and decide to speak up again. “Let’s go to the bedroom,” you declare, as you lead Adam by the hand to the king-sized bed. You tell him to lie on his back. You stand over him and strip off your bra and underwear. “I want to feel you all over, with my cunt,” you say, as you lower yourself down near his feet, “if you’re cool with that.” Adam looks at you expectantly and replies, “I’m game for whatever.”

You’re not quite sure what’s come over you. You realize you’ve had latent feelings for Adam for years, and they’re all bubbling to the surface now. And he’s so hot it’s like he’s awakened some primal instinct in you. Sure, you’ve humped guys’ thighs before when feeling frisky, or rubbed an arm against your crotch, but you’ve never done anything like what you’re planning now. You grab one of Adam’s feet, they’re large like his hands, with long toes. “So, do you have a foot thing?” Adam asks.

“No,” you blush a little, feeling kind of embarrassed, but Adam seems open-minded enough. “As I said, I just want to feel all your parts- here.” You take hold of his big toe, and move it toward your crotch. Adam’s propped up on his elbows and watching with interest. You press his toe against your labia, and rock back and forth against it. “Someone’s very wet,” Adam comments. You think how you’ll be leaving a trail along his body. You hold his foot as you move over his ankle, and then slowly slide up his shin, feeling his leg hair against you. You ask Adam to bend his legs so you can get onto his knee. “Knee fucking? Can’t say I’ve done that before,” Adam remarks, laughing again. Not in a laughing at you kind of way, but in an enjoying being your partner in crime kind of way.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” You feel kind of proud for debasing him, considering that he probably did some debauched things in his early years with the band. You move in small circles around his knee. You feel so wet and pliable, almost as if your cunt could swallow his kneecap. You’re in a nice zone where everything feels really good between your legs.

You continue with this body part exploration, sliding down his thigh. Adam’s boxers are still on and you can tell he’s semi-erect. As eager as you are to bring his cock into action, you move past it. You dip down to reach his concave torso, rubbing along the patch of hair that extends from over his waistband to above his navel. You feel the bump from his ribcage, and rub over a nipple as you move up. You ask Adam to sit up, admiring his bare shoulders. You lower yourself onto the bony part, and press against it for a while.

Adam has been watching you with bemusement. You get off his shoulder and position his arm so that his elbow juts out. You pull that protrusion into your crotch, liking how that feels as well. You’re excited to be getting close to his forearms, as you were looking at them with desire during the concert. You ask Adam to lie back down and move on top of one of his forearms. His arm hairs tickle your cunt as your slickness slides against him. You love how he’s not hairy all over but has furry forearms and legs. You feel kind of like a dog humping at him, but don’t care as it’s so pleasurable. Adam’s free hand grabs your ass. You move lower down to reach his wrist bone, too.

You get up and hold onto one of his oversized hands. You feel like your cunt could just devour it. You rub your thumb along the patch of hair that extends onto the back of his hand, and then press a few of Adam’s knuckles into your folds. You then grasp his index and middle fingers. You notice a crook in the top joint of his middle finger. These little features somehow make you hornier for him, if that’s even possible. You shove his fingers into your soaking cunt, and moan as you feel how deep inside of you they reach. Adam continues to let you be the driver; you know that he could make you come if he did something with his hands, but you’re still trying to delay that final gratification. You take his fingers out and bring them up to his mouth. You’re pleased that he reads the cue and licks at your wetness.

You motion for Adam to sit up, and brush his hair back to look more closely at his ear. Even the size and shape of this man’s ears get to you. You’ve never been so into all these details with any other guy before. It’s like he’s a perfectly beautiful creation. You position Adam’s head so you can get at his ear with your cunt, starting at the earlobe and working your way up along the outer edge. Adam shivers a little and you ask if he’s alright.

“Yeah, I guess I’m just sensitive there- a good sensitive.” You press against the ridge of his ear again and he emits a soft, low grunt.

You ask Adam to lie down once again. You’re still studying what a gorgeous face he has. You move your fingertip gently across his long eye lashes. “Yo, I’m not sure that’ll work,” Adam comments, and you both start laughing. “Okay, we’ll leave your eyes out of this,” you say, though catch him off guard as you move your groin over his hairline. You’ve been admiring his hair all evening, it looks adorable now sticking up in different directions. You feel its texture along your most intimate spots. You then position yourself above Adam’s nose- his lovely nose, with its long, strong line, and small bump near the top. Adam takes a big inhale and you gently ride his nose. You hit against his upper lip, but surprise him again by hopping off before getting to all of his mouth. “I’m moving here now,” you remark, as you sit back against the pillows and spread your legs, finally beckoning Adam to have his way with you.

“You know, I just remembered, I have one more thing in the case,” Adam says. You’re so ready for more now, but you wait as he goes into the other room to get whatever’s in the case. He comes back into the bedroom with his ear piece from the concert, dangling around his neck. That ear piece, that you watched him keep pulling out and pushing in, being turned on by the motions. Adam stands at the foot of the bed and takes off his underwear. You don’t always get that excited over the sight of a man’s cock, viewing it as more of a utilitarian appendage, but of course Adam’s looks just as nice as the rest of his body does.

“Maybe I should have gotten this out earlier, you’re probably too wet for it now,” Adam remarks, holding up one end of the ear piece. He continues, “I’ve got a spare, of course, but I don’t know what I’d tell the crew about how I wrecked this pair,” he laughs a little more. Adam comes onto the bed and rubs the ear piece along your leg, moving it up to your inner thigh. Once again, you’re thankful and pleased that he’s also had kinky ideas. The ear piece reaches the top of your thigh, then Adam places it in between your collar bones. He slides it down between your breasts, and stops above your crotch. You’re thinking how turned on you’d be if he pressed it against you there, but he touches with his finger and says, “yeah, too wet, as I knew, maybe another time.” At the mention of “another time,” it feels like your heart skips a beat.

You ask, “did you have anything else in that case?”

“Nah, that was it. I’d considered bringing a bass pick, too, but thought it could be a little too sharp,” and you both laugh together. You like how you can move seamlessly between funny and erotic moments with him. “Well, these look really soft,” you say, moving your fingers along his lips. Your cunt quivers as you trace his bow-shaped upper lip.

Adam places the ear piece on the night stand and brushes his slim fingers along your inner thighs. Then he brings his mouth to your thighs- kissing, licking, and taking little bites along the way. You’re so turned on already you feel like you might come almost as soon as his mouth touches your cunt. He’s taking his time getting to the sweet spot. He licks along where your thigh meets your groin on both sides. He then moves up and squeezes your breasts together. He starts sucking on one nipple while grabbing the other breast, and switches off. Your whole body feels on fire. Then he moves back down and kisses your labia, finally getting between them. When he starts licking and sucking at your depths, it feels amazing. You cry out in ecstasy, only wondering for a moment how soundproof the hotel walls are. You mutter “oh fuck” and “oh god” as Adam continues to satisfy you. He looks up at you, and it’s nearly too intense to meet his gaze. You grab a handful of his luscious hair as he buries his head in you again, and you rock against him. You sense the sweet release coming soon, and convulse as all the pleasure that’s been building up through the evening reaches a crescendo. You feel like you’re seeing stars.

As you slowly come back to your senses, Adam remarks, “well, I guess that worked out better than the ear piece.” You respond, “or the bass pick,” and playfully shove his shoulder. “You’ve really been great,” you say, placing your hand on his erect cock, “can I do something for you now?”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ve been loving all this so far, and now I’m really ready to fuck you.”

You repeat his phrase about “another time,” and he smiles. He kneels in front of you, asking “you okay, doing it like this?” You tell him you’re on the pill, and it’s fine to proceed. You’re not even sure how functional your ovaries still are, but you’ve stayed on the pill, and trust Adam otherwise.

He doesn’t waste any time penetrating you fully, and it feels so good to be filled up by his length. As he starts moving in and out, you notice him glancing down to where the action is happening, and you think it’s hot that he’s looking. He holds onto and adjusts your legs, and begins thrusting more aggressively, emitting some low grunts. And you get noisy again as his cock hits against your deepest part. Adam tells you how great you feel. You close your eyes for a time, enjoying all the sensations.

Adam then slows the rhythm down and lies more directly on top of you. It’s nice to feel his weight. He looks into your eyes and it seems like it’s just the two of you on this planet. “I really like you,” he says, emphasizing the “really.” Your eyes tear up- you don’t want to appear too emotional- but can’t help it. One tear escapes, and Adam wipes it with his thumb, “It’s okay now.”

“It’s just, me too, I mean, I really like you, too,” you say back to him, feeling tongue-tied. The mood had recently been more playful and sexy, but you don’t mind this sentimental turn. You feel good and safe with Adam. And here you are, with him inside of you, hearing that he really likes you. You can’t deny that you’ve had interest in him over the years. Even when you were with other guys, you still occasionally thought about Adam, but never considered it a possibility that your friendship could go to another level. Maybe it could now. You don’t know if you just have this one night together, but you’re going to savor the moment while it lasts.

You kiss, and Adam’s tongue probes your mouth, just as his cock fills you deeply. He nibbles on your lip, and your cunt clenches around him. You grind into each other, with your breath hot against each other’s ears. You put your hand on his ass, like you want to press him even further into you. You wish to meld into one.

Adam rises back up into a kneeling position. He starts rubbing your clit in time with his movements. It’s almost too much to bear, and you sputter, “oh fuuuck…Adam.” You can see he’s happy that he’s turned you into a noisy, squirming mess. The pleasure grows into a final explosive burst, and Adam clasps one of your hands, as if to steady you.

You brace yourself to continue fucking; it feels like he’s already excavated a small cave inside of you. You’re not surprised at his stamina after witnessing his energy on stage. While you’re kind of tired, you go on moving your body in rhythm with his. His thrusting picks up in intensity, and then you feel his cock twitch inside of you as he lets out a raspy moan. He lowers his face to yours, and you kiss. He pushes into you a couple more times, and you delight in the warmth between your legs.

After he rolls off of you, you turn onto your side and move a hand to his small patch of chest hair, as he holds his arm around you. You breathe in his scent, feeling very satisfied. “I guess it’s a little late for me to go back now,” you say. Adam squeezes you and replies, “oh, you’re not going anywhere.” You think of how you haven’t brought anything for staying the night, but aren’t too concerned.

You ask, “So was this Gala a special enough event?” Adam smiles and answers, “For sure, it surpassed my expectations.” You lift your head to give him some soft, lingering kisses before cuddling against him again.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Adam begins, “but I usually like showering off after a gig, it’s not to do with you.”

“Oh, that’s okay, I was just going to use the bathroom-”

“Go ahead, I’ll go in after you.”

You get up to go to the bathroom, and think how you could join Adam in the shower. So after he takes his turn in the bathroom, you go in the shower together. You don’t expect anything else to happen at this hour after everything you’ve done, but it’s nice to be naked with him under the warm water. You stand in front of Adam as he lathers you up, slightly teasing you with his touch. You return the favor, and then face each other and kiss, with your bodies pressed tightly together.

After stepping out of the shower, you see two bathrobes hanging on the door hook. You put one on, and give the other to Adam, who giggles, and says, “oh, like his and hers?” He looks so adorable in the white bathrobe. “You can use my toothbrush, you know,” Adam offers. As intimate as you’ve been with him, you still feel a little funny taking his brush, so you say you’ll be fine, and just use your finger.

When you get back into the bedroom, Adam gets out a pair of pajamas and hands you the top, “we can split them.” You pull the shirt over your head as he slides into the pajama pants. You admire his build again, and blush a little thinking of how you were rubbing yourself all over him. You hope he doesn’t think you’re nuts, but he seemed to be into everything you were doing. Also, he’s the one who rubbed a bow across you.

While you’re drowsy, your mind is racing with thoughts about how much you like Adam, and wondering where things will go from here. You don’t want to go back to seeing him every few years on tour. You wonder if something will change now. You’re only a few hours from New York, so could see each other more often. You ponder whether he’s ready for a relationship after the break up. You’d even look forward to spending time with Lila, but know that’s getting way ahead of yourself. This is a start, and you’ll have to see what happens.

You get back into bed with Adam, in the spooning position. “Again, it was such a great night,” he tells you.

“You don’t think I’m crazy, I mean, that stuff I was doing?” You can’t help but be somewhat blunt to try to put the worries out of your mind.

“Sexy? Yes. Crazy? No. Besides, if you’re crazy, I guess that makes two of us.” You’re content with that answer. Adam continues, “I don’t have to be anywhere till later in the afternoon tomorrow, so we can have some more fun the first part of the day.” You tell him that sounds good, and say goodnight to each other. You drift off to sleep, anticipating what the new day will bring.

#beastie boys #nswf fanfiction #the scoop

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roseelise · 4 years

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Breathe // Harry Styles

Reposting all my writings from @r0s3mm, my main blog, it is not stolen or plagiarized. All my works on my masterlist are main unless stated otherwise.

Hello! Welcome to 2-h, the back up account of @r0s3mm, I’ll be posting my works on here too until (hopefully) my blog gets restored and if not this will become my main blog.

Pairing: harry styles x reader

Word Count: 1550

Author’s note/warnings: mentions of panic attacks, crowds, H being a freaking sweetheart

Masterlist

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

Only a few people in your life knew that you were prone to panic attacks, you didn’t like to talk about it. After five years of friendship, you never had a panic attack in front of Harry or when it happened you would camouflage it or hide and go through it alone.

The first time it happened you were walking in the mall, Harry’s arm was slung around your shoulders. Weekends at your best friend’s hometown were always the best, it’s like he had a silent agreement with the medias or the fans because no one disturbed you, or if they did it was like old friends catching up. Even though you were just friends, you and Harry decided to lay low when it came to your friendship. You wanted to be friends with only Harry, not Harry Styles.

“H ? I’m hungry.” “I know. I can hear your stomach grumble.” “You did not.” He didn’t say anything and only shoved you away playfully “That wasn’t nice.” You grumbled.

He laughed before tugging you toward the foodcourt

A little bit after you ate, you continued to walk around the mall and shopped. You both got out of a store when you noticed a small group of people looking your direction with wide eyes. You decided to not think about it and tried to listen to Harry.

“But then, she told me that I wasn’t supposed to wear this because it was women’s clothes and I just …”

His voice was blocked when you saw that the number of people had doubled. You kept you eyes on them and noticed a few girls crying and following you. You didn’t do anything about it but when it got a bit worse, you wondered how people got here so fast. Then you saw some of them with their phone out, taking pictures.

Social medias … Of course.

“H. I think we’ve been spotted.” You said tugging on his arm. “What are you talking about ?” “Look behind us”

He looked over your head and frowned.

“Shit.” When his fans saw that he had noticed them they started to squeal or some even litteraly cried. “Go.” “What ? No. I’m here to spend time with you.” “Still, Harry. They want to see you.” “But-” “Harry go, I’ll wait here.” You smiled at him and pushed him toward the groups of kids, teenagers and adults.

You waited a good 10 minutes before more people came running toward him and soon you were surrended by people who were crying, screaming or pushing others.

Breathing began to be difficult for you, so you tried to get away from the mass of people. Your chest tighten and you texted Harry.

To: Hazz I’m starting to feel dizzy. I’ll be by the sink. Come back soon. xx

You made your way away from them but it proved to be more difficult than you thought it would be. Your legs started to feel heavy, everything was foreign to you and you tried to hold on something.

“I think she’s having a panic attack.” You heard a voice beside you say. “She’s the girl who was with Harry. Maybe we should get him.” Her friend told her.

You wanted to nod, scream. Provoke any reaction that could get Harry’s attention.

“HARRY !” The girl screamed toward your friend, grabbing his attention and he frowned when he saw you with tears running down your face.

Sobs came out until you no longer felt the ground under you. You recognized his scent and gripped his shirt before resting your head against his chest, breathing not slowing down.

Your vision was blurry and tears streamed down your cheeks. Your breathing hadn’t improved and eventually got worse when you saw all the people that were looking at you.

You looked around and finally your gaze met emerald eyes.

“(Y/N) ? Love listen to me.” His voice whispered.

You noticed he got you away from the mass of people.

“Hey, I’m here look at me.” He held you face between his large hands. “I- I can’t brea-the” You whispered. “You gotta breathe with me love …” He saw it wasn’t working. “What should I do ?”

You saw the girl who warned him coming close to you with a water bottle and a small fan. She handed him the articles and stepped away.

“Harry ? I think she’s having a panic attack.” “I-I know. I don’t know that to do.” He sighed. His heart was hurting seeing you like this. “You gotta distract her.” She crouched next to him. “Wha-what ? How?” “I don’t know.” She thought for a few seconds. “Sing to her.”

His eyes went wide. Never a panic attack lasted so long. Even though it has been only 3 minutes since he took you away from the pack of people, you breathing became heavier and you started to calm down by time but it was back with strength.

“Isn’t she lovely Isn’t she wonderful Isn’t she precious Less than one minute old” He licked his lips. Eyes locked on yours.

“I never thought through love we’d be Making one as lovely as she But isn’t she lovely made from love Isn’t she pretty Truly the angel’s best Boy, I’m so happy” He smiled when he noticed that your breathing came back to normal.

“Are you okay ?” He asked, voice filled with worry. “I-I think I am” You sighed. You voice was trembling and you took deep breath. “Thank you by the way” You said to the young girl. “It’s nothing. I have them too. Always be prepared.” She smiled at you. “Still, it was nice of you to call H, you could have just ignore me and go fetch your picture or whatever.” You smiled and stood up with the help of your best friend.

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

The second time it was during one of his shows. Let’s say big crowd wasn’t your forte. You were dancing and singing with the crowd when the space you have held all along the show between you and the rest of the people got really, really small. Again, breating became difficult and your vision got blurry.

Harry was on stage, a smile on his face, telling some anecdote that happened with Gemma a few weeks earlier. You were a little bit on his left but still you were right in front of the stage, a water bottle was standing on the stage, you knew it was Harry’s and it would probably just put the spotlight even more on you since the last time but you didn’t care at the moment. You reached the water bottle and accidentally grazing Harry’s leg.

“Are you okay ?” A security guard asked you. “Yeah I am” You nodded, your throat felt like it was closing on itself.

You opened the water bottle and chugged it, tasting H’s mint chewing-gum. Harry eyes were on you and he noticed the redness of your cheeks and your eyes. He kept going but still kept a close eye on you.

When he noticed you still hadn’t calm down, he knew what it was.

“Could I just take a few seconds to sing a song that means a lot to me.” Everyone started to yell. “But I’ll serenade a friend of mine, who’s here tonight.” He locked eyes with you.

“Isn’t she lovely Isn’t she wonderful Isn’t she precious Less than one minute old”

“I never thought through love we’d be Making one as lovely as she But isn’t she lovely made from love Isn’t she pretty Truly the angel’s best Boy, I’m so happy” After that he just kept strumming the chords of his guitar and singing for the fans. He kept his eyes locked on yours then wink and made a face to make you smile. His hand quickly held yours for a few seconds, his thumb stroked the back of your hand.

Ten minutes before the end of the show, you were brought backstage by some big guys. You walked with them in dark hallways, still hearing your friend’s deep voice sing and thank the fans for coming. Five minutes later, him and the band came out from the stage and his eyes searched something. When he saw you sitting on one of the cases of an amplifier, his long legs took large stride toward you and in seconds he was in front of you. He made your head collide with his chest and he put a lot of kisses on top of your head.

“Aren’t you lovely” He whispered in your ear and kissed the side of your head. “You okay, love ?” He asked making you look at him. “Mmmh” You mumbled your forehead against his chest.

He settled between your legs before you pulled him down and let your lips meet his for a kiss.

He rested his lips on your forehead and he put a bit of pressure on it. As you let your head fall on his chest, a smile appearing on your both of your lips. You look at the band who was staring at you. Mitch moved his stare between you and Harry before he wiggle his eyebrows in a suggestive manner and left.

It was so weird for you, you always saw Mitch as a serious and shy person … Guess who’s not shy now …!

You looked up at Harry and he stared back before pulling you up in another kiss.

#harry styles #panic attacks #soft!harry #best friend!harry #Harry Styles one shot #dad!harry #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #r0s3mm

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cafedrum0 · 3 years

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Useful Car Accessories That You Actually Need

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#cars #detailing #automotive #automobile #truck #accessories

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abalonetea · 3 years

Text

Just Keep Breathing: Chapter One

I was partnered with @the-dot for the @originalfictionbigbang! Thank you for working with me, Dot!

Here is the first chapter! I’ve split the first 10k words between four chapters, and will be posting them all in a masterpost in just a moment!

Summary: It’s the height of storm season and everyone in Hi-Banks, Florida is getting ready for the bad weather. It should be a year like any other - but on the tails of a national pandemic, a new disaster strikes. More than one new disasters. So many disasters that Eddie Carver would like to put some of them back, thanks. He’s just a down on his luck guy living in the local trailer park with his boyfriend. He’s not interested in dealing with the revival of an old murder case - which he knows nothing about, thanks -, the storm season of the century, or…zombies?

Yeah. Absolutely not interested in the zombies.

This black-comedy follows the inner workings of a small town as they band together to survive, and the young man - reckless, mean, angry, written off b the big city folk come to look into a cold case - that might hold all of societies survival in his hands.

Forget about society. Eddie’s only interested in keeping his friends alive.

Chapter One – Hi Banks Florida

“ - increased reports of unprecedented aggression all across New York City. This is following in the wake of Mayor Alex Grand’s assault on his wife. These attacks have increased nearly ten fold in the wake of the recent vaccine’s release, prompting many to wonder if the vaccine was released too soon – should more tests have been done? Could this be a side effect of it? We have reached out to the head of the FDA, Doctor - “

The television goes to pure static, a hissing crackle of black and white fuzz. Eddie groans. “Seriously? I was watchin’ that!”

“Guess you ain’t watching it now,” says Carson, draping himself over the back of the couch. He curls an arm around Eddie’s chest, pinning him against the back of the couch. “You should be at work, anyway.”

“Penny don’t got work for me today.”

“Then you should be out working on the truck. I’m sick of walking to the docks.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. He shifts, leaning up and wrapping his own arms around Carson’s neck, tugging until his boyfriend is leaning down enough that Eddie can kiss him. “I can’t fix the truck ‘till we get a part mailed in. Penny let me use the work account.”

“Bullshit,” says Carson. “You just don’t want too.”

“It ain’t bullshit. It’s, uh, truth shit.”

“Wow.” Carson shakes off Eddie’s grip. “You worked hard on that one, huh? Whatever, don’t work on the truck. I’ve got actual work to get too.”

Eddie twists, pulling himself up so he can drape over the back of the couch. “Gonna rain today. Take an extra shirt.”

Carson says, “sure, I’ll put it in the truck so it stays dry. Oh, wait.”

And, okay, so Eddie kind of deserves that one. The truck hasn’t been running for almost a week now. This isn’t the first time that it’s stopped working. Carson bought it straight out of the local junkyard five years back, and it’s pretty much held together with duck tape – literally – and chewing gum – which might be the next step.

Eddie really is waiting on the part to come in.

The problem is that he sort of forgot to order it until yesterday.

Drooping, Eddie makes a disgruntled sound. “I’ll see if I can’t fudge it, okay? Just, I dunno, don’t get hit by lightning. The storm’s supposed to be nasty.”

“Great.” Carson shoves on one boot, then the other. “So we’re going to have no power tonight.”

“I’ll fill the tub.”

“Summer sucks ass.”

“Florida sucks ass,” corrects Eddie.

Carson thinks on it, then bobs his head in agreement. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go with that one.”

“You gonna be home for - “ The television bursts back into being with a crackle of too loud sound. Eddie swears.

The woman on TV reads off, “ - no official links between the two. Gerald Harbrinks has been arrested today for the most bizarre case of armed robbery the county has ever seen, in which he dropped his gun and instead chose to bite the cashier - “

Eddie mutes it. “Sorry. One’a these days we need to get actual cable.”

“Yeah, when toads fly,” says Carson. “You doing dinner?”

Eddie thinks about what they have in the pantry. Not much, but probably enough to throw at least half a meal together. He’s better at cooking and coming up with things than Carson is. “Yeah. You going to be back before dark?”

Carson shrugs. “How should I know? They never tell me anything. I might not even have to stay if it rains.”

“Babe, if it rains, they’re gonna make you stay out of spite, and you know it,” says Eddie, because the guy who runs the docks is kind of an ass.

Carson grunts. “Thanks for the reassurance.”

“No problem.” Eddie shuts the TV off all the way and finally pries himself up off of the couch. “So, dinner, unless we lose power. We’ll have to hit up Red’s. He’s got that grill or whatever.”

He sways his way over to his boyfriend, plasters himself against Carson’s front and schmoozes his way in for a kiss. Carson curls an arm around him for a moment, then makes a face. “Come on, man. I gotta at least get down there before the rain starts or I won’t make shit.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” says Eddie. “Get outta here. Don’t get drowned or nothing.”

* * *

Hi Banks, Florida is the sort of place you’re born into, you slog through, and then you die in. And mostly, the people are okay with that. Why leave a good thing, right? Or maybe it’s more that the people born into Hi Banks just have a hard time getting together the chance to leave.

The trailer park is on the backside of town, filled up with old mobile homes and trailers parked up on cinder blocks. The paths between homes flood any time it rains and Eddie makes a point of sloshing his way through the puddles until the inside of his sneakers are soaked and his stained up jeans are covered in mud. Splash! Slosh! Splat!

The Calloway’s have added a new pick up truck to the collection of cars sitting out front. Eddie would bet it’s like the rest of their vehicles and the engine doesn’t actually roll over. Not that he can say too much on that front, considering his own truck.

If there’s any chance that he can trick the thing into running, he needs another quart of oil and – well, it is his fault that Carson’s going to have to walk home in the rain later, so Eddie figures he’ll pick up a box of swiss rolls while he’s out. Swiss rolls are Carson’s favorite.

Sweets in general are his favorite, but whatever.

So he sloshes his way through the trailer park and out onto the long, main road that cuts through the center of town. If you keep going long enough in one direction, it will take you to the highway. Keep going long enough in the other, you’ll hit the swamps.

There’s just the one commercially owned grocery store in the whole town. The parking lot is mostly empty, which isn’t a surprise considering it’s the middle of a Monday, and also about to cut loose. The wind’s started to pick up and everything, clouds dark and violent overhead. Eddie scurries into the shop, muttering a brief ‘hey’ to Annie Green when he passes her counter and heads towards the back.

Fitz is curled over the meat case muttering under his breath to himself, which is less unusual than it sounds. Eddie opts not to wave at him, and instead just goes for the cake aisle. It’s so picked over that it’s ridiculous. There aren’t any swiss rolls so he grabs the oatmeal cookies instead.

No doubt that the milk and bread aisles are already empty, to go with the alarmingly small amount of paper product. Up at the check out, he asks Anne, “you seen Roy come in yet today? He owes me ten bucks.”

“Nope.” The machine beeps when Anne scans the box of cookies. “Is Ftiz still back at the meat? I swear, he’s been in here for an hour.”

“Yeah. Maybe he’s stocking up on it.”

“Even Fitz isn’t stupid enough to stock up on meat right before we’re due for hurricane season.” Anne holds out her hand and Eddie fishes a crumpled five from his back pocket to pass over. “You talk to him?”

“Nope.”

Anne heaves out a sigh. “Great. Guess I can walk back and deal with it. If he’s drunk - “

“If he’s drunk, call his wife. She’ll have his ass for drinking that much this early in the day.”

Anne snorts. “Yeah, she will.”

Eddie shifts from one foot to the next, peering out the glass front doors. It’s still raining hard outside. “You think this is gonna light up any time soon?”

“Supposed to rain all evening. I’m surprised that they haven’t canceled work at the docks,” says Anne.

“Ugh. Great. Just, double bag them, I guess. I have to walk back in this.”

Anne doubles the bag and Eddie steps back out into the deluge. He’s soaked in a matter of minutes.

* * *

“Fucking Hell!” Eddie shakes himself off as he steps into the trailer. He fumbles around in the dark for the first few minutes, stripping out of his sodden clothes and down to his equally sodden boxers. Still swearing, he drops the bag of soaked oatmeal cookies onto the counter and flips on the light switch for the kitchen.

Nothing happens.

Eddie swears louder.

There’s the sound of something shuffling about from the bedroom. Eddie grabs the natty tea towel off the front of the stove handle and uses it to wipe off his face. “That you, babe?”

No answer. The shuffling sound gets closer. Eddie rolls his eyes and attempts to pat himself dry with the hand towel. It has a mixed amount of success in actually accomplishing anything.

“I got you cookies. They should be dry. Cause of the plastic and stuff?”

Still no answer. Eddie mutters under his breath. Fine, he’ll just have the cookies himself.

He pops open the plastic wrapper and pulls out a handful of them, carrying them over to the couch – where he finds Carson stretched out, massive headphones in, and a blanket pulled down over him.

“What the Hell, man.” Eddie kicks the couch base. “Move your legs.”

Carson grumbles and slides his headphones out. “When did you get back?”

“Like, five minutes ago. I went to get you cakes, but they didn’t have none.” He passes Carson a cookie instead. “You could’ve said something when you came out of the bedroom.”

Carson squints at him. “What are you talking about?”

Something in the bedroom is knocked over. CRASH. Eddie jerks, spinning around and squinting into the dark of the trailer. “So, uh, that’s not you.”

“Of course it ain’t me,” says Carson. He shoves the blanket onto the back of the couch, swings his legs over the cushions, and leverages himself up. There’s a bat by the front door. Eddie grabs it and passes it to Carson, because he’s tiny and Carson’s not.

“Chicken,” mutters Carson, but he doesn’t look thrilled to have to go deal with this. “We got that flashlight in the kitchen?”

“Batteries are dead,” says Eddie.

“Great. Storm season, and we’ve got bad batteries.”

“Pretty sure that’s not a hurricane breaking stuff in our bedroom, babe.”

Carson shoots Eddie an unimpressed look. “No duh.”

They make their way to the little off shooting bedroom, Eddie tucked close to Carson’s back. It’s at least still early enough in the evening that wane, yellow light creeps in through the nearby window. Carson presses a hand to the door, pulls in a deep breath, and shoves it open.

What happens next happens fast: there’s motion from the over turned bedside table. Carson swings with the bat, effectively smashing their lamp to pieces. The neighbor’s fat, orange tabby cat gives an indignant hiss and jumps onto the bed, then out through the nearby busted window. There’s glass all over everything, from the lamp and the window, and rain has blown in from the storm soaking the bed and the table in equal parts. The carpet nearby squishes loudly when Carson takes a step.

“Oh,” says Eddie. “Window’s broke.”

Carson drops the bat onto the ground. “That’s it. We’re going to Red’s.”

#wip jkb #my writing #zombies #original fiction big bang #writeblr

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whatareyousearchingfordean · 4 years

Text

Shut Up

Summary: A celebratory drink after a hunt gone well leads to something she least expected.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: 3K+

Warnings: Language, excessive alcohol consumption, nausea, vomiting, unwanted advances, angst

Square Filled: Accidental Confession

Authors Note: This is written for @spngenrebingo as well as @winchester-fantasies 1000 Followers challenge. I picked the phrase “Please shut up. I can’t stand how appealing your voice is.”. For some reason I couldn’t get it out of my head as a drunken confession, thus this was spawned. Let me know what you thought, xo Alex.

The crowd that greeted the three of them as they entered the dingy, dark bar was no surprise to any of them. It was the only bar nestled on the south end of the main road of the no-name small midwestern town that they had just finished up a vampire hunt at. Besides the small market, a few kitschy stores and a bank, the town mostly consisted of farms nestled on the outskirts of the one block of downtown. That was the lot of them that graced the worn out furniture of the place advertising a cold beer; farmers. Most of them were graying men in dirty, worn jeans sprinkled with a few women and brighter, younger men that hadn’t yet been hunched over by the weight of a lifetime of manual labor.

“Grab us a seat?” Dean raised an eyebrow at her and his brother. Sam tilted his chin in acknowledgement and guided her to one of the only empty booths in the whole place. The old leather cracked under her weight as she slid in across from Sam, not that she noticed.

Places like these had become commonplace in her life since becoming a hunter. It was not a life of luxury, it was one of blood, declined credit cards, stain motels, and self-stitched wounds. She didn’t regret it, as stupid as it all may sound, because it was the most free she had ever felt. It was proof that you didn’t need to surround yourself in material things for your life to have meaning. She got to save people, the one thing that her heart seemed more drawn to than anything. That’s also why she guessed she had been so drawn to the hunter leaning over the splintered bar.

Both of their lives had been defined by being a hunter. No matter how much the notion of living that apple pie wormed its way into their heads, somewhere deep down, they have always understood this is where they belonged. Dean was her in male form in so many ways, self-sacrificing, intelligent, beautiful, and a major idiot. Dean just happened to possess the bravado to put on a front, to be the macho ladies man that he thought he was supposed to be. She knew better than that. The late nights spent in motel after motel, with more whiskey than any human should consume, and witnessing the love and the loss. It was in these moments, when the shell came down, that she was able to see that the man that every monster feared was just a soft boy who wanted nothing more than to do a little good in this fucked up world. It was in these moments that she stupidly fell in love with Dean Winchester.

“Looks like there might be a case up in Maine, sounds witchy.” Sam’s nose scrunched and drew in his brows as he read what was sure to be some news article on his phone.

“Seriously Sam? I just rinsed the vampire blood from my jeans, can’t you at least have one beer before you are looking for a new case?” She mocked his signature scowl, but Sam only rolled his eyes. Folding her arms on the table top, she leaned into the stained wood.

“I like to keep moving.”

“You’re exhausting is what you are.” Movement in her peripheral had her turning her gaze onto the incoming Winchester. Dean handed off a beer to his brother and to her, her signature old fashioned. With a lick of her lips, she took an eager sip. The alcohol settled low in her empty stomach, hitting her brain with an instant warmth. Dean nudged her elbow, urging her to scoot into the booth. She obliged, allowing the man to scoot in next to her.

“Why is Sammy exhausting?” Dean cast his glance between her and his brother as he took a pull from his own beer.

“Your little brother has already found us another case.” She admonished with an accusing gaze towards the man across from her.

“Come on, man. We haven’t even had our celebratory drink.”

“That’s what I said!” Her jaw dropped in excitement at their shared thinking.

“Besides, I haven’t even had a chance to engage with the fruits of the local’s labor.” Dean smirked as though he had made the most clever innuendo, his elbow digging into her side as he sought her encouragement, only to jostle her enough to spill the sugary liquid down her leggings. Setting the drink down, she grabbed some napkins from the dispenser on the table, blotting up the wetness on her thigh and trying to hide the way her jaw was now clenching.

“Classy.” The huff left her lips as she tossed the now torn napkins onto the table. Sam shared her same annoyed expression, though you’d think by now they would be used to Dean and his antics.

“Aw come on, kid. You can’t tell me there isn’t at least one guy in here you have your eye on.” Dean turned his narrowed eyes onto her as the heat rose in her cheeks. Of course there was one guy, not that she would ever say his name aloud. Thankfully, working as a hunter had given her a chance to refine her acting capabilities. Sitting up a little straighter, she mocked scanning over the men in the bar, though she had already done so when they had first walked in.

Casting a disgusted yet thoughtful look on her face, she shook her head. “Nah, not really anybody my type in here.”

“Well, that bartender is just my type.” Dean shrugged and pulled his car keys from his pocket before tossing them at Sam. “Don’t wait up?”

Sam and her watched as he sauntered over to the bar, no doubt flashing his pearly whites and giving the unsuspecting women some truly awful pick up line. She pointed her thumb at his retreating figure as she turned back to Sam. “Why do we take him out?”

“I think it’s usually him taking us out and then ditching us.” Sam clarified.

“Ah, yes. How could I forget?” The alcohol still in her glass was now offending her, as it was not yet in her stomach. She tipped the glass back and swallowed the rest of the amber liquid in one go, knowing it would only be the start of many. Sam’s nose was already stuck back in his phone and she knew that she was officially on her own for the rest of the night.

With a huff, she slid back out of the booth and made her way to the bar. The beautiful woman who had caught Dean’s eye was currently preoccupied, soaking up whatever compliments Dean was surely throwing her way. Y/n’s waving hand caught the bartender’s eye, and she knew that the woman had seen her, but she instead chose to stay leaned over the bar, accentuating her assets for the tall hunter.

Trying again, she called out. “Excuse me?” The bartender turned her head finally, her eyes rolling slightly and the interruption before heading over to Y/n.

“Yeah?” She sighed, the gum in her mouth popping as she chewed. Y/n ordered two more drinks, much to the bartender's dismay. The woman nodded and moved off to make the drinks. As she came back with the finished product, Y/n could feel Dean’s gaze on her. When she turned her head to him, he was grinning from ear to ear. Dean tossed her a wink as the bartender came back to him, only to elicit a groan from his friend.

“I’m gonna need a lot more of these if I’m going to make it through tonight.” She grumbled to herself. This was not the first time that Dean has hooked up with a woman, lord knows he was doing it long before they ever met, and it would not be the last time either. Usually, she was good at letting it roll off her back. Dean wasn’t hers to claim and she has had her fair share of hookups, but tonight she was just pissed. As her best friends, she just wanted to celebrate a successful hunt with the Winchester brothers. She wanted to let loose and have a few laughs, but both went and smashed that dream. Sam was already focused on the next monster hunt and Dean was focused on his next woman hunt.

With her first drink already warming her body, she downs the second in two gulps. Her head shakes as the liquid burns all the way to her stomach. Fuzziness begins to cloud her brain, the exact feeling she was looking for to get her through the night.

After a number, that of which she could not articulate, of drinks later, she was twiddling with the bowl of empty nut shells in front of her. The anger and sadness that she was trying to drown from her gut was still there. She should have known that with the man she stupidly let herself fall for, shamelessly flirting away with another woman only feet from her, it was a feat she could not conquer.

“You’ve been sitting here all by yourself for quite some time. Whoever you are waiting on has really made a mistake.” A gruff voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Her head rolled towards the man now leaning against the bar next to her. She could only grunt out a response at the irony.

“Luckily for you, I’m here now.” The words left a nasty taste in her mouth. The guy reached out and moved her hair back over her shoulder, the action sending a chill through her body that stoked the anger in her belly. This time she really looked at the man. He was probably around her age, though it was hard to tell underneath the unkept beard and dirty trucker hat. The skin she could see where his sleeves were rolled up was tan, telling her he most likely worked on one of the many farms nestled around the town.

“Don’t see how that makes me lucky.” She chided as she did her best to convey to this man that she was not in the mood. The guy did not take the hint though, and even through the cloud enveloping her mind, her hunter instincts were on high alert.

“Baby, you don’t even-” His words were cut short as her hand flew to his wrist when he reached out for her face. His head slammed against the bar as she twisted his arm behind his back. The slamming of his weight against the wood echoed throughout the bar, gaining the attention of everyone inside.

With venom dripping from her tongue, she leaned in by his ear and whispered, “Never, put your hands on a woman without her consent.” She pushed his head again for effect before releasing him and heading for the door. Adrenaline was now pumping through her body, but she needed the cool air of the night for some clarity as the reality of the situation began to sink in. She heard the stomp of his boots before she heard his words.

“Fucking bitch!” The expletive had her spinning on her heels, the action making the room spin far after her body ceased moving. As her vision focused, Dean and Sam stepped in between her and the stranger.

“Uh, uh. I’d think twice about that buddy. She could still put you on your ass even with the amount of alcohol she consumed.” Dean shrugged on his jacket and lowered his shoulders, making himself somehow seem taller than he already was. She watched as Sam copied the action as the guy stepped up to Dean, again not all deterred by the two huge men in front of him.

“Oh yeah, so why don’t you let her?” He challenged, his eyes darting to where she was standing over Dean’s shoulder. Dean laughed in his cocky, I-could-give-a-fuck, way and looked over his should to glance into the eyes of the inebretaed woman behind him.

“Nah, I think I’ll save you the embarrassment.” The guy reeled at Dean’s comment, his fist flying out straight for Dean’s face. Dean dodged the action easily, ready to return the favor only to be stopped by his little brother. The two shared a silent conversation before Dean relaxed and darted off towards her. He put his hand against her back to guide her out of the bar, only to switch tactics when he realized she was wobbly on her feet. Tossing the keys for the impala to Sam, he slung her arm over his shoulder and helped support her weight on the walk to the car.

“I was fine.” Her argument was slurred as he opened the back seat for her.

“I know you were, kid.” Dean promised with a small chuckle as he slid in the backseat beside her. He answered her quizzical look with a pat of his thigh, inviting her to rest her head on his lap. Without hesitation, she obliged his offer, snuggling up to the warmth of his body.

“Not drivin’?”

“Gotta make sure you don’t ruin the upholstery back here.” One of Dean’s hands began a gentle stroke up and down her arm as his other brushed her hair away from her face. The last thing she remembered before slipping into darkness was the feeling of his fingers running through her hair

One nuisance after another kept tugging her back into consciousness. The sahara inside her mouth was the first thing she noticed, followed quickly after by the pounding inside her head. She rolled onto her stomach and shoved her face into the musty motel pillow, only for her movement to cause her stomach to roll. With the bile rising in her stomach, she leapt from the bed and made a beeline to the bathroom. She made it to the toilet in just enough time to lift the seat before she was emptying her stomach into the creme colored basin. Once the damn had opened, it couldn’t be stopped. Her stomach was hell bent on keeping up this whole fiasco until it had nothing left to give. Even when a hand met her shoulder and pulled her hair back from her face, she couldn’t do more than weakly swat at whoever it was behind her.

“Shh, that’s it, get it out.” Dean’s soothing voice filled the small bathroom as he rubbed her back. At least she knew who it was behind her now, though that didn’t make it any better. This was the last thing she wanted him witnessing. No person ever needed to witness the horror show that was currently happening.

When it seemed that she had nothing left to give, she left out a low groan and collapsed against the bathtub. It was then she noticed the coolness of the tile against her legs and her subsequent lack of pants.

“Here, kid.” Dean offered her a wet washcloth and she took it, washing away the saliva from her chin and sweat from her forehead. “I’ve got some pain killers here and a sports drink.” He handed them over as well. “But just go slow, you don’t want it all coming back up again. Been there, done th-”

“Please shut up. I can’t stand how appealing your voice is.” The words tumbled out before she could stop them. It’s just that he was using his concerned and deep rumble, the one that always got her heart racing a little bit and she so did not want to deal with that on top of everything else at the moment. Not to mention she wasn’t one hundred percent sure she wasn’t still a little drunk.

“What was that?” Dean chuckled softly and she didn’t have to look up at him to know he was smirking. There was no way she was ever going to live this down, so she might as well just throw caution to the wind.

“I’m just… my head hurts and I’m trying to figure out why I don’t have pants on and you just keep going on with that voice of yours.” She gestured her hands in his face, only causing him to laugh again at her. “Don’t laugh.” She pouted at him.

“You took your own pants off once I got you into your bed. I had to stop you from taking off the rest of it.” Heat rose up on her cheeks, knowing fully well that he was not lying. Her clothes tended to come off the more she drank because she always got hot. Dean moved to sit beside her, their shoulders touching as his back hit the tub.

“Yeah, that’s not surprising.” She mumbled. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” There was a pause as he took a deep breath. “So, you think my voice is appealing…”

“Ugh, Dean please forget I said that.” She let her head fall back and her eyes close in her embarrassment.

“No way, kid.”

“Dean, I-” Dean put a finger in front of her lips, shutting her up and confusing her still muddled brain. His hand trailed across her jaw, the large span of his fingers enveloping her neck as he pulled her to him. Her eyes fluttered closed as he leaned into her, his lips hesitant against her own. As the shock of his action subsided, she melted into him, allowing everything Dean to invade her senses. The feeling of his chapped lips against hers, the faint smell leftover from his cologne last night, and even the soft groan that emanated from his throat as she gripped the back of his neck and pulled him closer to her.

As she pulled back when her lungs began screaming for oxygen, the realization hit her. “Oh my god, I just puked!” She squealed in disgust, only for Dean to laugh at her again. As much as she used to love the sound of his laughter, it was really beginning to tick her off now.

“Trust me, not the first time I’ve made out with a girl who just puked.”

“I really don’t want to know.” She took another sip of her sports drink as she mumbled under her breath.

“No, you probably don’t. But it doesn’t matter anyway, cause you’re the only hungover, vomiting chick, I ever want to make out with again.” Dean shrugged with a soft smile gracing his lips.

You shook your head, laughing at the cheesy, soft hunter sitting beside you. “God, I hate you.”

___________________

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#winchesterfantasies1000followerschallenge #spngenrebingo #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #spn #spn fanfic #spn fic

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f--o--d · 3 years

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Bakery & Confectionery Products Sales and Marketing Agency in Mumbai

The first evidence of baking occurred when humans took wild grass grains, soaked them in water, and mixed everything together, mashing it into a kind of broth-like paste. The paste was cooked by pouring it onto a flat, hot rock, resulting in a bread-like substance. Later, when humans mastered fire, the paste was roasted on hot embers, which made bread-making easier, as it could now be made any time fire was created. The world's oldest oven was discovered in Croatia in 2014 dating back 6500 years ago.

Food & Beverages Sales and Marketing Agency in Mumbai

The Ancient Egyptians baked bread using yeast, which they had previously been using to brew beer. Bread baking began in Ancient Greece around 600 BC, leading to the invention of enclosed ovens. "Ovens and worktables have been discovered in archaeological digs from Turkey (Hacilar) to Palestine and date back to 5600 BC."

Eventually, the Roman art of baking became known throughout Europe and eventually spread to eastern parts of Asia. By the 13th century in London, commercial trading, including baking, had many regulations attached. In the case of food, they were designed to create a system "so there was little possibility of false measures, adulterated food or shoddy manufactures." There were by that time twenty regulations applying to bakers alone, including that every baker had to have "the impression of his seal" upon bread.

Art of baking enhances when Confectionery also gets added into it, together they give us a unique and tasty product.Bakers' confectionery, also called flour confections, includes principally sweet pastries, cakes, and similar baked goods. Baker's confectionery excludes everyday breads, and thus is a subset of products produced by a baker. The confectionery industry also includes specialized training schools and extensive historical records

Traditional confectionery goes back to ancient times and continued to be eaten through the Middle Ages into the modern era. Bakers' confectionery includes sweet baked goods, especially those that are served for the dessert course. Bakers' confections are sweet foods that feature flour as a main ingredient and are baked. Major categories include cakes, sweet pastries, doughnuts, scones, and cookies. In the Middle East and Asia, flour-based confections predominate.

Bakers' confectionery includes sweet baked goods, especially those that are served for the dessert course. Bakers' confections are sweet foods that feature flour as a main ingredient and are baked. Major categories include cakes, sweet pastries, doughnuts, scones, and cookies. In the Middle East and Asia, flour-based confections predominate.

Confections are defined by the presence of sweeteners. These are usually sugars, but it is possible to buy sugar-free candies, such as sugar-free peppermints. The most common sweetener for home cooking is table sugar, which is chemically a disaccharide containing both glucose and fructose. Hydrolysis of sucrose gives a mixture called invert sugar, which is sweeter and is also a common commercial ingredient. Finally, confections, especially commercial ones, are sweetened by a variety of syrups obtained by hydrolysis of starch. These sweeteners include all types of corn syrup.

Sugar confections include sweet, sugar-based foods, which are usually eaten as snack food. This includes sugar candies, chocolates, candied fruits and nuts, chewing gum, and sometimes ice cream. In some cases, chocolate confections are treated as a separate category, as are sugar-free versions of sugar confections.

Grocery stores and supermarkets, in many countries, sell prepackaged or pre-sliced bread, cakes, and other pastries. They may also offer in-store baking and basic cake decoration. Nonetheless, many people still prefer to get their baked goods from a small artisanal bakery, either out of tradition, the availability of a greater variety of baked products, or due to the higher quality products characteristic of the trade of baking.

#foodie #foodlover #food #bake #bakery #sugar #cake #cookies

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the-sara-voe · 3 years

Text

Chapter 5: The Bitter March

Masterlist

Luke coasts down the street, the dial tone blaring through the car's speakers. The tone barely skips one beep before Tusa answers.

“Scam calls not accepted”, she stated, as she tip-tapped away on her keyboard.

An arrogant grin spreads across Alvez’s face, as he asks, “I’m a scammer now”?

“Well, you didn’t answer my text about movie night. So yes, you are a scammer”.

“I’m sorry, Pen got a new kitten behind my back, and we are trying to get Roxie and Belle to get along”, he said, the grin still present in his speech.

“Oh”, Tusa said with surprise, a somber hint filling her voice. She bit her tongue to keep her thoughts at bay, saying “Well that’s alright. Is the cat cute”?

“Despite me not being a cat person, it is adorable”, Luke said, feeling her discomfort on the other end. “Hey, we can have a movie night another night okay”?

His voice is buttery to her, but his words slip past her ears. Just as quickly as he could raise her pulse, it would slow the minute he talked about Penelope. The woman didn’t have a face to her name, but she could summon the rains of the Amazon through Tusa’s eyes.

They have never met, but Tusa has heard nothing but great things. How she is kind, witty, talented. Garcia even left a note for her. Everyone talks about Penelope Garcia like she is a legend, because she is one.

Tusa hates being the one to fill Penelope’s shoes. It makes her skin prickle and her throat sour. She doesn’t want to, but she resents the woman. The unfortunate part is, it isn’t because of her reputation that Selemani disliked Penelope so much.

She perked up her voice, going an octave higher, before saying, “Yeah, yeah I know. I was just looking forward to it. But on the upside we avoided Sena rooting for Monty Python for the hundredth time”.

“That’s a good point”, he said before saying, “Hey while I got you, can you help me find-”

“Find the Church that belongs to those shirts? Bud who do you think I am? I already did it”.

Alvez chuckled as he listened to her. “Address is 7226 Grand Blvd, and it’s a Mormon Church. The t-shirts are for a program they have called Home Sweet Home, and proceeds help the homeless. The church makes a lot of money, and last I checked they ordered 6,000 t-shirts”.

“And they got to be storing those somewhere”.

“That’s what I thought”.

“Alright, thank you Chica I’ll talk to you later”.

“Bye”, she said, rushed, hearing him hang up.

She sat, frozen from the conversation, before she threw her hands to the air. Her hands encompass her face, leaning back in her chair and releasing a groan. All the pressure behind her eyes had moved to her stomach. The aching in her gut festers with every thought of him.

Slipping her palms down her cheeks to her lap, she says, “Luke Alvez, you are breaking my heart”.

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The black pavement glisten in the sun from the unforeseen water shower. Rossi's shoes kick up water drops; upchucked tequila and wasted food becoming more fragrant. The open corridor housed a soiled, kelp-colored dumpster, its neighbors being wrinkled heaps of plastic. Hidden from the opening of the alley, where the ground lay littered in cigarette butts and chewed gum, is the temporary resting place of Daniella Cortez.

"She was propped up against the dumpster", the detective remarked.

Rossi observes the corner. Although the untrained eye would be unable to tell, a small stain of rusty brown glued to the asphalt. Daniella's body had made its presence.

He crouches down, examining the stickers and graffiti that lingered on the brick and steel. The majority of them had faded around the edges and are stained from the decaying muck. "The alley seems fairly secluded in the daytime. How trafficked are the alleyways at night"? Rossi asked while the gears in his head turned.

"Everyone tends to stay away from the alleyways at night, but on Fridays and Saturdays some prostitutes sit here, waiting for guys to drive by. That's how she was found actually".

Rossi's eyes squint. There is one piece of paper, crumpled over itself, but not colored by the garbage mildew. "A prostitute found her"?

"Yeah, said she came back looking for her wallet and found the body instead. She said that the victim wasn't anyone she had seen before, but she saw the victim come out for a smoke".

"Did she see anyone that picked her up"?

"No. She said that she picked up the last guy of the night, and their alibis checked out. Daniella was alone out here".

As the detective continues to ramble, David's eyes fixate on the brick. He slips his hand into a latex glove, plucking the paper from the brick wall. His fingers swivel the folded square open, revealing a manufactured drawing. The thin, black lines branch from one another, to make a set of twig feet, wings, and a minuscule beak. But most startling, the image is clouded in a burgundy red.

"Detective, does this sticker seem familiar to you"? Rossi asked.

The detective hovered over Rossi's shoulder, looking at the image. "That's a sticker a bar nearby uses instead of stamping. Bar's called A Larkin'".

Rossi's face scrunched at the name. "Probably where she was before. Did you guys interview bar staff yet"?

"No, but it is just across the street, I'll take you over there".

Rossi thanks the detective, putting the sticker in a bag for evidence. He stares at the blood-stained lark. Gideon would have thought the lark symbolism was clever for the bar, despite the dumb name.

David halts his walking. Jason believed birds were like people, that they explain themselves through their behaviors. Jason studied their symbolism in various cultures and religions. Birds always had a significance for Gideon, so what was the significance of his letter being with a robin painting?

He pulls out his phone, dialing Tusa. "Selemani"?

Before he could hear her speak, the background rings with metal gently scraping plastic. She must be on her lunch break. Her voice thick and full, she spouts, "Present, sir. You guys get a good lead yet"?

"Not on my end, but would you do me a favor"? He asked, his words spilling like those of a child caught red-handed. "An old friend asked me to look at a case of his. I may have found a potential lead for him, but I need your expertise".

On the other end, Tusa ceases her fidgeting. David could feel her sincerity through the phone. It is something he appreciates about her. Although Penelope's presence is well missed at work, Tusa carries a similar warmth as Garcia. If someone she cared about truly needed something, she would get it for them.

Her voice takes a serious tone, "Alright sir, I'm all ears. What do you need me to do"?

"What is the symbolism of the robin"?

The rattling of the keys is followed by her saying, "Robins represent perseverance, fresh starts, good luck. Associated with spring, Robins tend to migrate during March. Any of this help"?

It was sheer luck that Rossi and Stephen discovered the letter. Stumbling upon that one book, out of all the books Gideon had, and turning to that page. Sheer luck learning about Harper. Does the robin pertain to her?

Rossi's face relaxes slightly, the corners of his mouth upturning. "Yes, that does help. Thank you, Tusa".

"You’re welcome, sir".

After hanging up, Rossi took a moment of pause. His hand found the picture of Harper before he had told it to. Staring at the baby picture, he said to it, quietly, "You're a March baby, aren't you Harper"?

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viking-raider · 4 years

Text

A Year Late - Chapter One

Summary: The world has over. Months later, 9 people are traveling the U.S, Canada and Mexico just trying to survive the eaters...zombies, the people effected by the disease that ended the world. But, the important question is: Can they survive?

Pairing: Henry Cavill/OFC

Word Count: 5,087

Rating: PG-13 - Apocalypse AU, Zombies, Language, Violence, Blood, Gore, Survival, Weapons, Death, Angst, Pain and more

Inspiration: I don’t know. I’ve never watched anything like the Walking Dead or anything, I have seen I am Legend, though. But, it just sorta came to me, once upon a time, and here it is. This is also a third revision of the story, so if you find it elsewhere, that’s me, being weird and recycling some of my stories for new muses. lmao

Author’s Note: Tell me what you think!

Tag List: @jennylovelyheart, @peakygroupie, @jessevans, @rosie-loves-things, @ohjules, @mary-ann84, @omgkatinka, @the-freak-cassie-131, @heelsamizayn, @agniavateira, @cap-barnes, @romyr4, @michelehansel, @katiebriggs004-blog, @badassbaker, @mrsaugustwalker, @authentic-bish-face, @rizeandvibe, @severuined, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @bellastellaluna, @wondersofdreaming, @thisisntmyrightera, @laurenmw815, @winchwm, @royallylazy, @sofiebstar, @worldicreate, @agniavateira, @fantasygirlsuniverse, @witches-of-discovery-a, @xuxszx, @ayamenimthiriel, @keiva1000, @klaine-92, @itsreigns, @constip8merm8, @scorpionchild81, @seb-owns-these-tatas, @mylifefallingupthestairs, @onlyhenrys, @luclittlepond

'The world as you know it is over.' There was a long deafening pause. 'A catastrophic catastrophe as swept over the nation, no ladies and gentlemen, the world. The end of the world is here and it has claimed the human race. This is Ron Sidwald signing off for the last time...ever, for Channel 12 news, November 5, 2019. God be with you all.'

Static and hissing is all that's left from the 6 month old news cast that still ran in random intervals all over the now nothing but dust, rust and abandoned desert that was once the flourishing United States of America. The world population of 7 billion as been reduced drastically to an unknown number ranging in the possible 3,000s. But, that was just a wishful thought of the ones that were still alive and unaffected by the disease that claimed their people and perfect life they had, though, they didn't know how perfect it was.

Until it was gone.

A rock sailed through the air, disappeared in the glare of the unforgiving sun and clinked into a rusty old Folgers coffee can that tipped and rolled around on its round rim bottom, then righted itself and settled back onto the dusty ground. "Woo!" A shout was hollered from the top of a modified, faded yellow, school bus. "Rock in one. Beat that, Tank!" "Oh, fuck you, Toombs. That was just a lucky shot." Tank grumbled, jumping off the top of the bus and picking up the rocks he and Toombs had been tossing into the coffee can to pass the time. "Hey yo, Link! When does Sy, Zero and Trix get back from wherever the hell they're going too?"

The beefy, over tanned Hispanic shrugged his shoulders as he cleaned his AK-47; his two Glock 18C extended clip, automatics were already cleaned and reloaded in his shoulder holsters. Link never said much, but he was good shit when it came to using his guns and getting the job done. Those qualities were the reason Sy and Zero valued him so much in these times. "Where'd they go?" Toombs asked, sitting back in the fold up lawn chair on the top of the bus, pulling on his sun goggles. "To that city we saw on the map on the way here." Link answered, pushing bullets into a new clip for the AK. "Are you fucking serious?" Tank boomed. "That shit was like seven miles from here and its almost sun down!"

Link shrugged again, putting the clip into the gun. Throwing the rocks down to the ground, Tank shoved his way into the bus, took the radio off the dashboard and held down the button on it so hard the hot, black plastic around it, cracked. "Sexy 'n' Sleek to Fuck You, over." he called and released the button to wait for Trix's response. There was a bit of static, before it came in. "This is Fuck You, come in, Sexy 'n' Sleek." static. "Over." "What the hell are you guys doing, going to a city seven miles out of zone!" Tank chewed Trix out. "We need to get supplies and we can't.." static. "..so Sy and Zero decided to come. We'll be back in no time. We just got here, over." Trix answered. "Let me talk to Sy." Tank growled. There was no answer. "Fucking over!" he barked. "Sy, isn't in range at the moment, here's Zero. Over." Trix replied. Tank leaned over, rested his hand against the hot dashboard and hung his head. "I don't want to talk to Zero." he sighed to himself, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the side of his arm. "Zero here, over." Zero's annoyed voice came in. "What's up, Tanker?" "Why the hell didn't you and Sy tell us you were going into the city for supplies, this fucking close to sun down?" Tank asked, his anger controlled. Pissing Zero off wouldn't get anyone, anywhere. "We told Link and that's what matters." Zero answered. "He has his orders, now stay off the fucking line. Over and out." Throwing the radio receiver, Tank rattled back off the bus and climbed back up into the roof. "What's up, T?" Toombs asked as Tank dropped down into a plastic deck chair next to him. "Nothing." Tank growled. "They'll be back in a bit. Link's left in charge till then." "Okay." Toombs shrugged, indifferent by it all.

Sy thumbed the smooth wood of her English longbow, other than the five guys she rode with, it was her best friend, just like the 50 thin bobtail arrows in the quiver she made and had strapped to her back. In case she ran out of arrows, she had two EAA Witness Match Semi Automatic Pistols, one in a left shoulder holster and one in her back waistband, along with a 5'' Gerber paraframe II knife in her right combat boot. She looked over at Zero, who was walking on the other side of the street from her, she looked him over. Dirty and torn cameos. Military FAMAS strapped in front of him, index finger at the ready above it, his two extended clip and automatic Tarurus PT92s in their holsters and bumping against his thighs in the rhythm of his walk, and his long knife in its holder across his back. Zero was Sy's brother, he was 2 years older than her and the only one she hadn't lost at the end of the world. Sighing heavily, she shifted her gaze from Zero to Trix, or the little twerp as she called him. Wasn't more than 18, about 6 foot and a buck forty. Skittish as hell, slow in the head and annoying like a horse fly. But, he was good with technical things like the engine to the bus, the radios and other things like that. He didn't look right, right now with a S2 sub-machine gun in a shoulder strap around his neck, hand gripping the handle like life and love needed it, 12in hunting knife poking out of his timberland and the 2 LD Jungle knives she let him use held to his scrawny right thigh. The only thing that looked right on him was the military radio backpack slung over his shoulders, so they could stay in contact with Link, Toombs and Tank at the bus, in base camp. Made Sy sad to see someone Trix's age having to do shit like this just to fucking survive. "I don't think we're going to make it back by dark." Zero's voice called, bringing Sy out of her daze, just to sigh heavy again and pull off her Tan colored Military goggles from around her head. "Should find shelter then." She said, popping out the black lenses of the goggles and replace them with clear ones, then put them back around her head and over her eyes. She looked up at the sun, "Only got about 2 hours til we're in the dark." Zero nodded agreeing with her, rubbing his dirty, sweaty and gritty face. He kicked a rock in front of him down the street and looked at Sy with a raised eyebrow. "Trix." Sy called to the kid. "Take a seat, watch the street, and remember what your mother did, and didn't, teach you." she told him, pulling the bow between her back and quiver, then pulled out the pistol from her shoulder holster. "Look all ways when near a street, yell when someone comes, and shoot when you need too." Trix recited it to her like a bible verse, in a sense it had become one for them all. "Good boy." Zero smiled, patting Trix on the head as he sat down on curb. Zero quickly made his way over to Sy, they stood close to each other and talked about their possible options for a safe shelter to use for the night. "Could go back two blocks and use the store." Sy suggested. "We already cleared it." "Yeah, the first two levels. Not the basement, cellar and attic." Zero shook his head. Sy nodded, exhaling a stressed breath. "Okay, down a half block around the corner and see what pops up." she held her fist out to him. Zero touched his fist to hers in agreement with the plan and they headed down. "Behave, twerp." Sy threw over her shoulder as she and Zero went down the street.

Trix waved her away and popped a stick of gum in his mouth, looking down the street the way they came, then around the corner of the wall on the other side of him and down at Sy and Zero as they disappeared. "Hate being alone." he mumbled to himself, fingering his gun.

In nervousness, Trix started to whistle low and rock back and forth, side to side. Timing his movement and whistling with how he looked down the three sections of road. The streets were dimming and gray, it was getting cold and Trix was starting to loose his nerve. Zero and Sy hadn't returned yet, but he didn't hear any gunfire either. So, they were probably still scoping out wherever they were scoping out and not getting eaten by anything that lurked in the abandoned buildings. He hoped anyway. Whipping his head to the the left, Trix saw three figures moving down the road where he, Sy and Zero had come from. It couldn't have been the others because Link had orders that if they didn't return by morning, he was to take Toombs and Tank to the next planned area and if any of them survived would make their way there to meet them. Getting up and hiding behind the corner of the building, his gun pointed at the moving figures, his heart pounding. "It's too early yet for Eaters." he whispered to himself, trying to calm himself. He looked up the road where Sy and Zero went. He knew that he couldn't run up that way without them seeing him and he couldn't yell for them either because he was sure they'd hear him before Zero and Sy would, and get to him before the three tore him apart. Trix looked back to the three figures, they were closer now. So, backing up down the wall a good length, he turned and ran to an ally, ran down that ally and as he passed through the other side, he collided with Zero. "Trix, get the fuck off me." Zero growled, shoving the teen off him and getting up. "What are you runnin' from, twerp?" Sy asked, helping him up. "There's three figures coming up the road. It's not the T's or Link and it's too early for the Eaters." Trix panted. "It's never to early for the Eaters." Sy said, pulling night vision goggles out of Zero's pack and replacing her goggles with them and switching them on. "Come on." she whispered going up to the edge of the street and peeking around the corner at the three figures. "It's okay, Trix. You're right. It's not dark enough for the eaters to come out yet. Not unless you woke them up." Zero assured him. "I was whistling." Trix shook. Zero shook his head, coming up behind Sy and pressed his finger to his lips. Trix nodded and zipped his lips. Sy scoped out the three figures coming up the street towards them. They're movements were unsure, like they were lost. One tall, one close to that and one an inch or two shorter. "Wish I had Tank's sniper scope." she whispered to Zero. "At least then I could see their faces...wait. They've stopped, there's activity behind them." "What is it?" Zero demanded quietly. "Those three aren't Eaters, Z." she said, pulling the Night Vision up away from her eyes and looking back at her brother. "How do you know?" "Because the 6 things behind them are." she told him, pulling out her bow. "We have to help them."

Zero nodded, pulling his FAMAS against his shoulder and looked back at Trix and nodded at him. Trix nodded at Zero and readied himself. "Go, Sy." Zero whispered, patting Sy on the back. Sy ran out from the corner to the middle of the street and down a few step, where she stopped. Pulling a thin bobtail arrow out of her quiver, placing it in the bow and pulling the sting on the bow back, aiming carefully between the two tallest figures, who she could now see were three guys. A smirk pulled on her lips seeing their scared faces, then let go of the arrow. The arrow whizzed through the air, creating a breeze in the longish hair of the second tallest as it went between them and struck one of the Eaters through the right eye, shattering the back of its skull and dropping it completely dead to the ground. When that Eater dropped, Zero and Trix came out as Sy ran to the three guys being tracked by the Eaters. "You need to move, now!" she snapped at them, pulling back another arrow as a second Eater got closer. "Go!" she yelled at them, taking out the Eater. The three guys ran to where Zero and Trix were and hid behind them. "Sy, get back here!" Zero yelled at his sister, shooting down two Eaters. Sy shot another Eater, than turned and ran back to the group. As she slid to a stop next to them, Trix let loose with his sub-machine gun. "Take them back to the building." he yelled over the gunfire. "Come on." Sy said, pushing the three guys back to the building that she and Zero cleared. She pushed them inside. Putting her bow away and pulling out her shoulder gun again, she held the door with one hand and the gun with the other, watching the door for Trix, Zero and anything else that wanted in. "It's fucking dark in here." one of the guys complained. "Here." Sy shrugged her pack off, never looking away from the door. "There's heavy duty glow sticks in there. Only break open two, that's all you need to see." she instructed them. The sound of them rummaging through her pack, then ripping open the foil packaging of the glow sticks and the creaks and pops of the sticks filled the sheet rock walled room. A neon green glow came to life in the room, then the shuffling sounds of the men sitting down with heavy and uneasy sighs. Zero and Trix came charging in, slamming the door shut and pushing everything they could in front of it. When they felt it was safe, Sy, Zero and Trix pointed their guns at the three men sitting on the floor in front of them. The three struggled up, their hands up and palms out and backing up. "Whoa, chill." The tallest spoke. "Yeah." A second tallest of the men added in.

The third stayed quiet, but frightened looking. "Who are you? Where are you from? What are you doing out here? and are you infected?" Zero interrogated them. "I'm-I'm.." The second tallest stuttered. "Henry, from London. We got trapped here, when all the shit hit and as far as any of us know, we're not infected." "And you two are?" Zero asked, pointing his AK at them. "I'm Joey, I'm also from England." The quiet one answered. "And I'm Armie, I'm from here in the U.S." The other answered. "He's bleeding." Trix said, pointing to Henry. "On his side." Sy walked up to him, pulled open his tattered black plaid button down and looked over the gash on his side. She looked back at Zero and shook her head. "It's not anything to worry about Eater wise. Just a wound." she said, stepping away from him. "What the fuck is an 'Eater'?" Joey frowned. "Those things that were going to attack you, before we came in." Zero told them, putting the safety on his AK and sitting back against the pile in front the door. He checked the clip and a bunch of other stuff, Trix did the same as Henry, Joey and Armie sat back down. Sy dug in her pack and pulled out some items. She stood up and went over to Henry and motioned for him to follow her. "You want him to follow you?" Joey protested. "Yeah, unless he wants that wound on his side to get anymore infected, if it isn't already, and if the blood isn't covered up and controlled the Eaters will sniff it out." Sy snapped at him. “No doubt, why they found you.” "I don't trust you." Joey snapped back. Sy growled, dropping her head back. She set the medical supplies aside and unloaded all her weapons, her bow, quiver, clips and guns. "There." she showed him, arms out and turning. "Knife, in you boot." Trix added. "I might need it." she glared at him. "I'm not Cat Woman." Joey, Armie and Henry exchanged looks with each other. "Fine, bleed and/or get sick and die, for all I care. What's one more to add to the loss." Sy rolled her eyes going past him. Henry stopped her, grabbing her by the arm. "I trust you." he whispered. Sy sighed softly, grabbed the medical supplies again and led him to a little kitchen, away from all the others in the place. She laid the supplies down on a counter island and pointed to a chair for Henry to sit in. "Take your shirt off too, please." she told him, pulling a chair up in front of him. Henry nodded and hung the shirt up on the back of the chair. He watched Sy lean close to him and look over his wound, touching it carefully. "So, how long you guys been out here?" he asked, trying to break the silence. "Me, my brother Zero and Trix, the kid, along with our other three guys Toombs, Tank and Link have been here since before it happened. All of us, but Link were born in the US. Link was born in Mexico." she told him, leaning back and grabbing a closed bottle of water and a pad of gauze. Popping open the water and wetting the pad, she wiped and pressed it to his wound making him hiss and bite his bottom lip.

"Sorry." "It's okay." Henry groaned. "This wound is sorta old. Its hardened over some and its got puss inside of it." She told him, dropping the wet pad to the floor. "I have to open and drain it." Henry's eyes went wide as she told him she'd have to cut his wound. "If there was another way, I'd do it. But there's not. If the puss sits there any longer, the more it'll enter your blood stream and make you really sick." She tried to explain it to him as lightly as possible. Henry gulped and nodded his head slowly, "Okay." he whispered. "What do I do?" "I need you to lay down." she told him, getting up, pushing the chair back as she did. Henry rubbed his face, looking at the floor. "Here, wait." Sy stopped him as he started to lay down. She left the kitchen and came back with a brown blanket. She laid it out, took off her black and red hoodie, folded it up and laid it down on the blanket too as a pillow. "There, make it a little more comfy." she smiled at him. Henry smiled at her and laid down on his back, his head supported by her rolled up hoodie. Sy brought the medical supplies down to floor level as she sat cross legged beside him, she pulled her knife from her boot and flipped it open, she poured iodine on the black blade and laid it on fresh gauze. "Go you have any painkillers?" Henry asked, meeting her eyes. Sy pressed her lips together and shook her head at him. "No, sorry." she apologized, pouring more iodine on another piece of gauze and wiping around the wound, but she paused. "But, you know what." she said, her eyes far off. "Trix! Come here and bring your bag." she called out to the kid. Trix came rushing in, gripping his bag by a strap. "Yeah, Sy. Got it right here." He tripped over himself to give it to her and watched like a caught sheep as she dug through it and pulled out a 12oz bottle of Tennessee whiskey. "Here, down some of this." she opened the bottle and held it to Henry's lips, letting him gulp down a fourth of it. "Okay. I'll let you have the rest when I'm done." she told him, putting the cap back on the bottle and setting it aside. "Thanks you, Trix. You can get lost now." Trix nodded, taking his bag back to the front room. "Thanks." Henry replied, when Trix was gone. "Anytime." Sy answered, picking up her knife. "You want something to bite or you good?" she asked him. "Is it gunna hurt?" Henry asked looking her in the eyes. His blue orbs looked worried and scared beyond belief. "I was just throwing it out there." Sy answered, trying to be encouraging and soothing. Henry squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head back to her hoodie. "Just go." he told her. "Okay." she nodded, then pressed the tip of the knife to the wound.

Henry growled deep in his throat, his hand shooting out and gripping Sy's knee and squeezing his eyes shut tighter as she cut open the length of his wound. Sy dropped the knife as thick white puss oozed out of the cut, she picked up a package of iodine and ripped it open with her teeth. "Big pain." she warned him and squeezed the stinging brown liquid out of the package to his oozing wound. Henry howled in agony as the iodine soaked into the cut. Joey, Trix, Armie and Zero leaned in the doorway of the kitchen to see what all the commotion was about. Sy ignored them, wiping away the puss and pressing it out as much as she could and letting Henry squeeze her leg as much as he need too. "Is he gunna be okay?" Armie asked, concerned. "Yeah, I'm sure of it." Sy answered, still pushing puss out of the wound and pouring more iodine on it. "I need to keep an eye on it to make sure it heals right." "That means they have to stay with us." Trix whined. "Yeah, just like you had too, when we found your dumb ass." Sy mocked back. "Go radio Link and tell them the situation." she barked out the order. "And the rest of you, beat it or your next." she threatened. Not needing farther threats the group at the door was gone to find something else to do. "I don't want to be a burden." Henry panted. "Shut up and breathe." Sy ordered, opening the wound a bit deeper. Henry groaned as the knife cut deeper into his side and gripping her knee even tighter, but Sy never registered it. "There. I'm gunna let it ooze a bit longer, then I'll bandage it up. I don't want you moving. So just lay there, you need something let me know, got it?" "Got it." Henry answered, still panting. "But, tell me something." "Anything." "Okay then, two somethings." Sy smiled at him, cleaning off her knife. "What is it?" "One, what's your name and two, how do you know what you're doing?" "One, My name is Sy and two, I'm a medic." A frown washed over her face. "Well, I was before the whole end of the world thing. I was 3 months shy of becoming a doctor." "Sy. What's that short for?" he asked, looking at her. "Nothing. It's my full name. My parents weren't very clear minded, when they had me." she laughed. Henry chuckled and Sy patted Henry on the shoulder, packed away the medical supplies, then sat back against the counter island facing Henry and closed her eyes. It was going to be another long night, the Eaters or the people that had been affected by the disease that swept over the world, turning many into flesh eating, night walking maniacs, where coming out in stronger and bigger numbers every night. But luckily they seemed to be spread out from each other, though God only knows how long that'll last. It only took three days, three days, for the world to end and tip upside down. The brown, cloudless and sunny sky was utterly unforgiving in the day time. It was so hot in the day you could fry an egg the sidewalk and so cold at night, you couldn't wet your lips without running the chance of them freezing together. Chapstick, sun block and sun glasses were your best amigo in the day and a thick blanket, more Chapstick and another human body were your partner at night. Yeah, Sy, Zero, Trix, Link, Toombs and Tank had it all down to a pretty good and fine science. They had their faults, nothing out of the usual though. Only being some of the last surviving people on the planet over run with Zombies, supplies were few and in between, like toilet paper, a bar of soap or even a washer machine. But things could be improvised for that. They always sold out the ammo stores and aisles when they could, got what good food they could use, water was a hard thing to get right, but thanks to Trix, they had a system of making damn sure it was clean enough to drink and cook with. They raided hospitals for medical supplies when needed, clothing stores for new shoes and whatever else they needed to cover themselves. It was by no means a simple life, or an easy one. But, they all knew that it could be worse, and as long as they had each other, they'd be able to get through it virtually unhurt. Sy jerked awake, hearing a startled gasp from in front of her. Sitting up, putting a hand on her shoulder gun and reaching into the side pouch of her cameo pants, she pulled out a glow stick and broke it, illuminating the kitchen in a blue glow as she shook it for extra strength. It was Henry, sitting up on his elbows, sweating heavily and staring, frightened, at the small kitchen window behind her. Glancing at her watch, it was 3.03am. She set the glow stick between them and rested her hand on his tense shoulder. She could hear the Eaters now, running and screeching passed the window and around the building. It was a sound that kept her awake many of the first nights, haunted her dreams for weeks after, and finally, just recently, she got use to it. But, obviously Henry hadn't gotten to that point yet. "It's okay." she whispered to him, wiping sweat from his temple. "They can't get in." "You sure?" Henry asked, never tearing his eyes from the window. "Yeah, the window is too small, the door is blocked and Zero's watching it. The windows on the third floor are too high for them to reach." Sy assured him. She ran her fingers through his short curly brown hair, smiling as it spiked slightly from him sweating. "Just lay back down, I won't let anything happen to you. I promise." Henry laid back, breathing slowly in and out through his mouth. He stared at the ceiling, his stomach rumbled angrily. Sy frowned hearing it and watching him press his hand to his stomach, closing his eyes. She shifted to get up and he grabbed her by the wrist, looking at her from the corners of his eyes. "I'm just going to get my bag, okay. I won't be more than like twelve feet from you." she told him, tenderly. Henry's hand slowly let go of her waist and Sy stood up, edged around him and went into the other room where the others where at. "Everything okay?" Zero asked. He was sitting on turned over paint bucket in front of the door, his FAMAS loaded and ready to go if anything happened, across his lap. "Yeah, just need my bag. Got a growling tummy in there and by the sound of how pissed it is, he hasn't eaten in a bit." Sy replied, picking up her bag, where she dropped it last. "Yeah, Trix gave those two some food and water, he was gunna give some to you two, but you were already asleep and I told him to leave you." Zero answered, watching the shadows outside zoom by. Sy sighed, standing next to Zero, facing away from the shadows. There was an uneasy pause and silence between them, words for their thoughts didn't have to be said out loud anymore, because they'd been said so many times before. "Go and get some food in that boy's belly, Sy." Zero said softly, looking down at his safety. "We'll talk about it later." Nodding and patting him on the shoulder, she took her pack back into the kitchen and sat back down in her spot beside Henry, who looked at her with a gulp. Sy smiled at him, digging in her bag and pulling out a medium sized brown package and a dark green spoon and handed it to him. "What is this?" Henry frowned taking the items. "Um, I think, that's chili and beans. I got...uh, meatloaf with gravy and Pork Chow Mein, if ya wanna switch." she told him, holding up two other medium sized packages. "Okay, but, what the hell is this?" he asked, shaking the package at her. "Oh! They're MREs." Sy answered, grabbing another spoon for herself. "Meals Ready to Eat. It's U.S military food. They have a shelf life of 25 years, so they're good stuff for us." Henry grimaced at the MRE and spoon in his hand, but his stomach was telling him to rip that shit open and devour it. Setting the spoon down and ripping open the package, he looked in at the gooey mess in it and looked up at Sy still a bit grossed out. Sy offered him a smile, as she ate the Chow Mein with her fingers. Shrugging, Henry picked his spoon back up and dug into the food. It wasn't as bad as he thought it would be, he was actually sorta impressed by it.

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