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noteveryoneis · 10 months

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Ava Silva’s trademarks are the mistakes she makes along the way.

She knows that, her ex knows that, her kids know that, even the cat lady across the street knows that. Everyone in her little hometown knew that.

Everyone and their mothers thought Ava Silva had hit rock-bottom when she ended up knocked up at sixteen years old by her stupid little high school boyfriend, but no, Ava kept digging. She just had to keep the baby, marry the guy and move out of the state to have two more kids with him before the age of twenty-four. JC was a good guy, he loved her, loved their girls, he was kind and he cared about them. Until he didn’t, breaking up with Ava and asking her to take full custody of the girls, without a single afterthought.

“We weren’t ready,” he had said. “I’m not ready to be a father.”

Good thing he had realized that now, their first baby was almost into her pre-teen at that point — and she had glared at him from the darkness of the hallway of their shitty little apartment as Ava sat across from him at the kitchen table, defeated.

So it’s expected for this new decision to turn out to be another mistake. Even Ava knows it.

Still, it looks good, on paper. A fresh new start. Just the four of them, Ava and her girls. Back to her hometown, the place she knows by heart and could navigate with her eyes closed. Hell, she even found a job and a whole new house — small and cramped but like Camila said it herself: “The good thing about growing up in social housing is that whatever you find here, it’s gonna look like Disneyland to them”. And yeah, she wasn’t wrong.

Ava turns right into the small driveway surrounded by yellow grass and sun-burnt rose bushes — she’s pretty sure they can save them, with determination and a lot of research on Google. The girls have their noses to the windows, except for Neves who is asleep in her child car seat. The eight hour drive has exhausted them all, the car is covered in sandwich crumbs, coffee mist — Ava’s lifesaver at that point — and Takis dust. She’s pretty sure she has a sunburn mark all around her sunglasses, but she doesn’t really know if she can get sunburned through the windshield — fingers crossed that she isn’t.

“There it is,” Ava announces as she turns off the ignition. “Our new home.”

Dear God her divorce is turning her into a middle-aged white suburban dad in a horror movie.

“It’s ugly,” Nina comments from the back seat, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not choosing it for its pretty face, bug,” Ava says, holding onto her patience like a life buoy (Nina hates everyone and everything since they have announced their separation, even more when it became clear that Ava was separating her from her father). “We’re choosing it because it has a roof and four walls, and good water pressure.”

And because it’s basically the only thing affordable that isn’t in a trailer park.

“I like it,” Nova comments timidly from the passenger seat.

Ava smiles at her, sending her a wink. At least that one is making it easy.

“Come on, let’s go, it’s gonna be night soon.”

The truck with their things will be here tomorrow, Camila will come to help them and properly meet the girls (according to the texts she had been sending Ava for the last few weeks, she was overly excited and bouncing around at the idea of being so close to ‘her girls’).

Ava opens the creaking door, climbs out of the car, grimacing as the joints in her knees crack painfully. Yeah. She’s definitely a middle-aged dad. The wind carries the smell of the sea all the way here, washing away the nauseous aroma of Takis and coffee, Ava already feels like she can breathe a little better.

Neves’ little head is leaning on the headrest of her car seat, cheeks red, curly dark hair drawing a halo around her little face. She looks absolutely adorable. They all did, her girls, at that age. Well, they’re still cute today, but it’s like Nova’s presence is slowly fading away from her face, and Nina was always the more flashing beauty — all in bright smiles and charming light in her eyes, just like her parents.

Ava takes great care as she unbuckles her little harness, reaching up to brush against her cheek and the softness of her eyelashes. Her baby. Her babies, they’re all her babies.

Nina wiggles out of her seatbelt, bringing Ava back to the task at hand.

“You girls go ahead, I’ll be right there to open the door.”

“Okay,” Nova says, unbuckling herself and climbing out, Nina jumping behind her.

Ava brushes her lips against Neves’ forehead, stroking the pad of her thumb across her cheek.

“Wake up, baby, we’re here.”

Neves shifts in her seat, but doesn’t even open her eyes.

“Come on, Neves, wake up, cutie-pie, we’re home now.”

Neves shakes her head, eyes still close.

“No? You don’t want to see your room?” Ava asks, giggling a little. “Damn. That’s too bad. Guess I’ll watch Paw Patrol all alone with the girls huh. That’s sooo sad.”

That gets Neves to open one eye, squinting at her mother as if trying to call bullshit on her. Ava raises an eyebrow and Neves stretches her arms over her head, whining loudly as if to convey how tired she is. Life is hard when you’re a five year old sleeping in a car.

“I know, baby, I know,” Ava says. “Come on now, let’s go see the house.”

She reaches out and picks Neves up, hugging her to her chest with one arm under her legs as the girl ties them around her waist, burying her face in her neck. Ava pushes the door closed, makes her way around the car towards the front of the house while searching for her keys in the pockets of her shorts. Both Nova and Nina are waiting for her on the porch — yes, the porch, Ava is very proud of that one — stretching their arms, little t-shirts riding up to show their tummies. Once upon a time, Ava and JC used to tickle them every time they’d do that, starting a tickle fight that JC always won. It’s when Nova started expressing that she didn’t want that that things got a little tense, since her father didn’t understand and would get offended.

Ava shakes her head, wiggles her keys as she slides them into the lock, the key ring that Nina made for mother’s day in pre-K jiggling against her palm.

The door opens into a dark room that smells musty but that’s probably because all the windows and shutters haven’t been opened for weeks.

“Here we are,” Ava says, turning the lights on.

An endless room stretches in front of them, turning to the right around the staircase, which is right next to the door, after the narrow hallway leading to the smallest bathroom. Ava can already see the vision: the thrifted couch and chairs, the living room table they found on the sidewalk, the cushions the girls use for a pillow fight. It will all be their space, theirs and theirs alone.

“The kitchen is all the way to the right,” Ava explains as Nova and Nina start running ahead, slowly hyping themselves up for the discovery of the house. “There is a small bedroom behind the door after the stairs, I assume it’s gonna be mine if you take the three bedrooms upstairs.”

“Wait what?”

Both girls come back running, Nina with a confused frown on her face.

“Three bedrooms?”

“Yeah, and there is another bathroom with a bathtub for all three of you, but I gotta warn you: I’m taking a bath in there at least once every two weeks.”

“We all get a bedroom?” Nina asks again, like she didn’t hear a word of that.

“Yeah, I already told you— didn’t I tell you?” Ava frown.

“You did,” Nova whispers, cheeks turning red in embarrassment. “But we didn’t know…”

They didn’t know if she could pull it off. They didn’t know if she wasn’t going to come back empty handed with a guilty and sorry look on her face, telling them that she didn’t get the place and that they were living in the trailer park after all. Ava doesn’t blame them. They’ve both done that a lot.

“So we don’t have to share?” Nina asks.

Ava shakes her head, dropping a kiss into Neves’ hair.

“Nope. Although you’re going to have to decide which one of you gets which room.”

There is a beat of silence as they all look at her, and then both of the little girls are running up the stairs, yelling at each other as Neves asks to be put down and climbs after her sisters, disappearing into the dark.

“No running into the stairs!” Ava yells, but no one listens.

All three of the girls are all shouting in a concert of little voices, trying to decide which room is the biggest — Nina is going to win, because Nova doesn’t fight, she always takes the things her sisters don’t want (bottom bunk, ugliest towel, most-worn out shoes) but right now she’s trying to cheer Nina up, and because Neves, poor little Neves, was unfortunately born to be the youngest of her sisters, and therefore she loses every single argument.

Ava shakes her head in the middle of the front door, a smile tugging at her lips.

She’s a middle-aged white suburban dad from a horror movie, and her girls are okay.

#fic: strangers in this town #ava silva #warrior nun #*entrapta voice*: ask me about my stories I've waited years to talk about my stories #jc is a douche in this au even though the og is the one and only straight boi i don't hate

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nerdybluephoenix · 2 years

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Tw: death from crash landing. Corpses briefly described.

The vessel crashed on a moon and spilled its contents across the low gravity surface. Metal barrels, canisters, food, and suspiciously too many weapons bounce away as peacefully as fallen leaves.

The crashed vessel laid there for many days.

An alien ship roared above. To the perspective of the quietly fallen, nothing more than a single, moving star in a sea of glowing dots.

But while the deathly quiet wouldn't know of life above, the oncoming angels were equipped to tell of life below.

And so there was. Life. Just below.

The moon was not a place for survivors. What sort of creature is living there?

The ship landed only several hundred feet away from the ghostly scene. It was quite the crash. They took pictures, documenting the massive crater surrounding it. That wasn't something you heard of aliens surviving.

Our heroes climbed down anyway, following the signal of life.

Inside the wreckage, there were animals. Dead animals. Cats, a few reptiles, and cracked tank of bugs. The aliens weren't familiar with these types of creatures, but even if they were, the state of the corpses would not be recognizable.

But life found a way, somewhere inside this ship. The green signal of their devices assured them so.

It was from inside the canisters. Even the broken ones. Inside these little packages, their devices hummed with the brimming of life.

These canisters were see-through, and yet the aliens saw nothing inside.

The labels, in galactic common, wrote out "Tardigrades." Whatever was inside, it was living. It was surviving. And somehow, even the ones without any sign of oxygen continued to thrive.

The tardigrade saviors packed all the ones they found, securing them in bags, tightly sealed. They were tenderly carried back to the ship. Tiny creatures may have been resilient enough to survive the crash, but they had been through enough. They would be treated with care, even if the aliens couldn't quite see them yet.

But as they looked around the ship, a single green dot still blinked on the screen. Thinking it another cannister, two of the heroes made their way towards the front of the ship. The rest carried the tiny survivors back.

The entrance towards the front was a sealed door. But not air tight. It was heavy. Both aliens worked together to slide it to the side, determined to free the trapped.

And inside, it was crowded. Cramped. A single chair, and around it was the windshield shattered in broken glass.

In the chair was a being much larger than the other passengers. A round helmet covered their face, concealing the identity of the one inside. Tubes reached out from out of it's suit and plugged into the walls, where a gentle whistle could be heard flowing through.

They watched a moment. Was this the one? Was this the last survivor? They watched intently, observing the gentle rise and fall of their rib cage.

On their device, the green screen blinked. It blinked in time to the human's beating heart.

@fuguhui-8

#how's that for funky alien post about water bears?#humans are space australians #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #humans are weird #space orcs #aliens #humans are so weird #outer space #galaxy #humans are insane #humans in space #humans and aliens

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paversandplatters · 3 years

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|| 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚂𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚙|| (1/20)

Apocalypse! Au (TW! Minor gore and cussing)

Read x multiple

Chapter 1: Shortcut

“Would you please shut up for just one minute!?” She calls out behind the steering wheel, voice horse, and struggling to keep the battered SUV On the road, keeping speed and avoiding the now long forgotten vehicles left on the two lane road. Every part of her feels like it's on fire. Blood from the oozing wound on her scalp finds its way right into her eye, clouding her vision further.

“Told you we've just gotta put some distance between us and Calhoun, then we can pull over for medical attention ASAP. ” Her eyes quickly flit between the road and the rearview mirror trying to get a glimpse at George in the darkness of the back seat. The young man is leaning his head against the broken rear window as the Escalade rumbles past a cluster of figures milling about the edge of the road. A single glance tells her they're hunched over something- or rather what's left of someone. She pushes the thought from her mind and tries to assess George again. He catches her eyes in the mirror only to look away- blinking tears away and wheezing miserably, his free hand gripping the bloody remains of what was his shirt over his middle. No doubt covering the gaping wound there.

The broken window rattles, as a slip stream of wind tussles his now blood matted hair. Nick is sat next to him looking equally disheveled but still in one piece- save some scrapes and bruises.

“I-I can't breathe- I can't-” he stutters out cutoff by Nick’s sudden yelp as a wave of rotten gore sprays across the windshield. It's undeniable that the sight and smell is enough to stick with you for days but anyone that has struck a zombie with a car knows the worst part is the noise. Rather that is- the gore and rot engulfs all senses, sure, but it’s the sound that lives on in memory. It's a series of greasy crunching sounds that bring to mind the thunk of an axe through cords of rotting termite infested wood. A horrible symphony of sounds as the dead are grounded into paste beneath the moving chassis and thick wheels. A quick series of dull pops and cracks as liquefying organs and bladders are squished. Bones are turned to kindling and skulls crushed open and flattening, mercifully bringing an end to a treacherous pilgrimage. This hellish noise is the first thing that registers with her and the two men in the back seat of the battered Escalade.

Both let out another yelp of shock and revulsion, holding on to the seats with a vice like grip as the SUV bucks and fishtails across the now wet and slippery tarmac. Most of the cadavers go down like domino pieces, pulverized by 3 tons of careening Detroit metal. Some of the excess flesh and appendages stumble across the hood leaving a ghastly trail of rancid fluids on the windshield, other body parts go pinwheeling in the air arcing across the night Sky. It might have been humorous if their own situation wasn’t so dire…

She remains silent, hunched forward- her jaw set and eyes fixed on the road, her arms still wrestling with the jittering steering wheel as the massive vehicle goes into a skid. The engine revs and keens as it reacts to the loss of traction. The squeal of the huge steel belted radials adding to the din, hands yanking the wheel back the other way turning into the skid as best she can in order to avoid spinning out of control when she notices something that has gotten lodged in the gaping hole in her side window.

The disembodied head of a zombie only inches away from her left ear. It’s teeth chattering softly, somehow it got caught in the jagged maw of broken glass, gnashing its blackened incisors at her fixing it's ghostly milky gaze on her. The sight of it is so grisly and awful and yet so surreal- the creaking of the jaws snapping at her with the hollow autonomic force of a ventriloquist dummy. She lets out an involuntary chortle, one akin to a laugh but darker… she jerks her head away from the window. Registering over the space of a single instance the fact that the re-animated cranium was torn from its upper body upon impact with the SUV and now still continues to go on without it’s body, seeking living flesh… forever seeking, forever masticating swallowing and consuming, an impulse never satiated.

“Lookout!”

The scream comes from the flickering darkness of the rear seats. In all the excitement she can't identify the source. Wether it's Nick or George- the issue is moot because she mistakes the meaning of the cry and the split second during which her hand flies to the passenger seat and fishes through the contents of it rifling through Maps, candy wrappers, rope and tools- frantically searching for the 9 millimeter Glock- she assumes that the warning cry it is meant to lookout for the snapping jaws of the amputated head. She finally gets her hands on the grip of the Glock and wastes no time swinging it up with one fluid motion towards the window and squeezing off a single point blank shot into the grotesque face skewered there. The head comes apart with the blossom of pink mist, splitting like a melon and sending splatter of viscera into her hair before being launched into the wind, the vacuum left behind in the broken window throbs noisily adding to the din.

Less than 10 seconds have transpired since the initial impact but now she sees that reason that one of the men in the back gave such a warning- it's nothing to do with the reanimated head- what they were screaming about back there- thing that she was supposed to lookout for… is now looming on the opposite side of the highway coming up quick on their right closing. She feels the gravity shift as she swerves in order to avoid the mangled wreckage of a VW bug sliding across the gravel shoulder then plunges down into a steep embankment on the dark unknown wooden grove.

Pine barrows and foliage scrape and slap the windshield as the vehicle bangs and clambers on the rocky slope. The voices in the back rise into a frenzied screams

She feels the land level out and manages to keep the vehicle going long enough to find purchase in the mud- then slams down the accelerator and the Escalade lurches forward under its own power. The massive grill and gigantic tires grinding through the thickets cobbling over deadfalls, mowing down the wild undergrowth and tearing through the scrub as though it were smoke. for the seemingly endless minutes the bumpy ride threatens to encompass her spine and rupture her spleen. In the blurry image of the rear view she gets a brief glimpse of the two injured young men holding on to the back seats for fear of bouncing right out of the vehicle. The front end hits a log hard and the impact nearly cracks her teeth.

For a minute or so they swerve through a thin patch of trees. When they burst out of the brush, an explosion of dirt, leaves and particles- she sees that they've inadvertently come upon another unidentified two lane road. She slams the brakes causing the men to headbutt the seats with an audible ‘thwap.

She sits there for a second taking deep breaths, getting air back in her lungs. She looks around. The men in the back collectively groan and whine, now suddenly back into their seats, holding themselves. The engine idles noisily, a new rattling sound is introduced to the low rumble- probably bearing a knocked loose in the improvised off-road adventure.

“Okay-“ she starts softly “that's one hell of a shortcut”

The only response for the backseat is silence- the humor lost on the two young men. Above them a black opaque sky is just beginning to lighten with the purple of a pre-dawn glow in the dull light. They can just see enough detail to now realize that they've landed across an access road and the woods have given way to wetlands. To the East she can see the a canal winding through a fog, probably leading to the edge of a swamp and to the West a rust pocket sign says state road ‘505- 3 miles’ no sign of roamers in either direction.

#dsmp x reader #dream smp x reader #dream mcyt #mcyt x reader #techno x reader #sapnap x y/n #georgenotfound x y/n #ranboolive #dsmp tubbo #tommyinnit #philza x reader #zombie apocolypse au #the behavior of sheep

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refinedbuffoonery · 3 years

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Looking Through A Window (2)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Oh man. My dudes. I received so much love and support and excited feedback on the first chapter that I thought my heart was going to explode. Y’all are so wonderful. Keep it up. <3

*****

Luckily, Matty lets them take the Phoenix jet to Houston. Flying commercial would make today even more tortuous than it already promises to be, albeit for a different reason.

No matter how hard he tries to distract himself, Mac cannot stop staring at the diamond ring on Riley’s finger. The princess cut gem is stunning and ridiculously large, but it suits her cover as a lucrative arms dealer. A white gold wedding band sits below it. Riley left her usual assortment of rings at home, and Mac can’t help but think her long, delicate fingers look bare without them.

He tears his eyes away from the rings again and again, both on the plane and while driving to the safe house. Riley drives with just her left hand, her right elbow resting on the center console. Mac likes driving, but there’s something relaxing about riding shotgun while Riley drives instead. He’s never been able to put a finger on it, but the sense of ease washes over him all the same. Admiring the way sunlight illuminates her engagement ring is simply a bonus.

He doesn’t let himself imagine what he might give her, in an alternate future where she reciprocates his feelings and one day wants to marry him.

Harley obediently lays in the backseat, staring out the windshield. She's been on her best behavior the entire twenty four hours Mac's known her, ever the professional.

Which puts her completely at odds with Mac and Riley's shenanigans—cracking jokes, dancing on the plane and in the car, doing purposefully bad impersonations of Russ. These are the best parts of going on ops alone with Riley. They can let loose in a way they just couldn’t when anyone else other than Bozer was around. Everyone else is professional all the time; Mac and Riley are only professional when they have to be.

Riley taps the steering wheel in time to the classic rock song on the radio. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Dinner? We haven’t even had lunch yet!”

“True.” Riley chuckles. “Can you tell I’m hungry?”

Mac gives her a sly look. “Not at all.”

They settle on Texas barbecue for lunch on their way to the safe house, because that’s what Jack would choose if he was here. If only the old man could see them now, all grown up and getting sent to take down terrorists unsupervised.

Seated in a booth in the far corner of the restaurant, Mac raises his brisket sandwich in a toast to Jack, in whatever afterlife he found himself in. Hopefully it’s the one with an endless supply of good barbecue.

“Oh man, Jack would’ve loved this,” Riley says through a mouthful of food. She sneaks Harley a piece of brisket.

Mac smiles. “Yeah, he would’ve.”

It’s easier, now, to talk about him. At first, Mac hadn’t been sure he could ever get to a point where talking about Jack didn’t make him want to hit something or just curl up and sob.

But here he is, on the other side. Him and Riley both.

Their safe house is another twenty minutes away from the restaurant, in a nice neighborhood full of trees and children playing on the sidewalks. It’s so much greener than a California neighborhood could ever dream of being. There’s even a park across the street from their apartment complex. It’s exactly the sort of place a young, affluent couple would want to live.

Riley parks in their designated space, and the pair ascend the stairs to apartment number 202. Outside of the car, they don’t dare use each other’s real names until they’re sure the apartment is free of bugs. The place was furnished earlier that week by other Phoenix agents, but Mac and Riley do a thorough sweep of every room just in case.

It’s a nice apartment. Wood flooring, granite countertops, matching cabinets throughout. There are pictures on the walls, but Mac doesn’t bother to stop and check what they are.

Riley clears the space from back to front, so Mac does the opposite. He clears the kitchen first, frowning at the absence of any sort of food, before moving on to the living room.

Mac stops dead in his tracks when he enters the bedroom. The singular bedroom. With a singular, queen-sized bed.

Oh no. This is not happening.

Mac shakes his head and rubs his eyes, hoping his mind is just playing tricks on him and that there’s actually two beds. Or a whole other room he missed before.

The one and only bed seems to mock him.

He walks back out, finding Riley already sitting at the kitchen table, turning on her laptop. “Uhh, Riles? There’s only—”

“One bed,” she finishes, not bothering to look up. “I know.”

Oh god. He can’t do this. He can’t. Not with his dignity still intact. Mac stammers, “I’ll, uhh, sleep on the couch. You can have it.”

That gets Riley’s attention. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re going to be here for weeks. You’ll hurt your back sleeping on the couch that long. Just sleep with me.” Riley’s eyes widen as she realizes what she just said. “In the bed,” she quickly adds.

Mac ducks his head to hide his blush.

“What are you working on?” he asks in a feeble attempt to distract himself from their sleeping situation. Because it will definitely be a situation if Mac’s not careful.

“Connecting to the Wi-Fi,” Riley says in a slow, “What else would I be doing?” sort of way.

“Right.” Mac silently curses himself. Of course that’s what she’s doing. “Anyway, I’m assuming you already know this, since you probably opened the fridge too, but we have no food.”

“I saw.” She’s multitasking again, manicured fingers flying faster across her keyboard than Mac can keep track of. “Why don’t you unload our bags while I finish this, and then we can go.”

Unable to help feeling like he’s been dismissed, Mac complies without protest.

Soon they’re back in the car, headed to the grocery store, and the whole thing feels ridiculously domestic. Mac’s never been a fan of grocery shopping, but Riley makes it almost...fun. For starters, she’s not methodical about it the way Bozer and Desi are. But more than that, getting to spend time with her doing mundane, non-work stuff is a nice reminder that their relationship is more than just the job. They’re friends too.

Mac wishes there is a way to tell her all that without it sounding weird.

They come home, unload the groceries, and take Harley for a long walk, and that feels easy too. It feels normal, even though literally nothing about this situation is normal, and Mac already knows he’ll miss this when the op is over.

But normalcy ends when Riley beckons Mac to sit beside her at the kitchen table, and together they write an advertisement for their arms dealing business. Once they’re satisfied with it, Riley sends it off into the dark web, and there’s nothing to do but wait, like a spider after spinning her web.

The waiting is the worst part.

Mac is contemplating taking Harley for a second walk when Riley asks, “Want to help me make dinner?” He takes one look at her hands on her hips and the “you don’t actually have a choice” look on her face and knows he’ll be left to fend for himself if he doesn’t help now. Mac learned that the hard way back when he and Riley lived together.

“Sure.”

They work in comfortable silence. Mac chops vegetables and grates cheese for their quesadillas while Riley does the actual cooking part. Even though they are doing separate tasks, Mac is acutely aware of every move Riley makes, no matter how insignificant. Flexing her long, thin fingers around a knife. Itching the back of her calf with her foot. Dancing in place, spatula in hand, while she waits to flip the quesadillas sizzling in the pan.

Mac smiles softly. Her random little dances are cute. He’s noticed them more and more since realizing he has feelings for her, but if Mac is being honest, he’s always thought the dances are cute.

Riley hisses as she peeks under the tortilla, checking to see if it’s browned yet.

“You good?” Mac asks, frowning.

“Yeah, I touched the pan by accident.” Riley runs her thumb under cold water.

Her laptop dings while they eat. Wide-eyed, Mac glances at Riley. That was fast. She grimaces before sliding the laptop closer and checking the notification.

“Is it them?” he asks tentatively. That’s the hard part about this; in order for their business to look more legit, they had to just put an ad out and hope for a response, rather than target the terrorist organization directly.

Riley exhales. “No, it’s not them. It’s someone else.”

Swallowing another bite of quesadilla, Mac says, “I don’t know whether I’m relieved or if that’s worse.”

“Same.”

There are no more responses that night.

*****

Mac wakes up in the same position he fell asleep in—on his side, facing outward, with as much space between him and Riley as possible. When they crawled into bed the night before, Riley did the same.

Harley spent the night on the couch.

She’s a very guarded dog, Mac is slowly realizing. Tolerating, but not trusting. Mac supposes he would be like that too if he was a dog and he got stuck with a bunch of strangers after his human suddenly disappeared one day.

He makes coffee, feeds Harley breakfast, and takes a shower, all before Riley loses her battle with the snooze button and finally gets out of bed. While she showers, Mac takes Harley for a walk in hopes that the cool, spring air will ease the anxiety that took root the moment Riley released their ad into the void.

It doesn’t.

Dark, puffy clouds loom on the horizon, and the few birds Mac hears shriek at each other in warning. It looks like a storm is coming.

When Mac returns, he’s met with a grim expression, one he understands without Riley uttering a single word. “They answered,” she confirms.

“What did they say?” Unclipping Harley’s leash, Mac moves to stand behind Riley, resting his hands on the back of her chair. The scent of her shampoo tickles his nose, and he forces himself to ignore it and focus on what Riley’s saying.

“They want to meet. Today.”

“Time or place?”

Riley points at a small box on her screen. “Just an address.”

“What’s there?”

“A warehouse,” Riley says. “Owned by the same shell corporation other Phoenix techs already tied to the organization.”

“Not very clandestine, are they?”

“No, they’re not.” Riley looks up at him, her head bumping his sternum, and butterflies ricochet inside Mac’s rib cage. There’s something soft in Riley’s expression that makes Mac want to kiss her. “Are you ready for this?”

Mac sighs. “As ready as I ever am. Are you?”

“Yeah,” she says, but her confidence falters. Without thinking, Mac squeezes her shoulders in reassurance before walking away to change.

*****

The warehouse is located on the edge of the city, in an industrial area that has certainly seen better days. Even from a distance, Mac can see cobwebs decorating the warehouse windows and rust creeping up the roller doors. Aside from Riley, there’s not another soul in sight.

As per the directions the organization sent after Riley confirmed the meeting, Mac parks on the south side of the building, near the only functional-looking door. He doesn’t look at Riley as they get out of the car, instead desperately trying not to cringe at the cold, heavy weight of the gun holstered at his side, hidden beneath his jacket.

High-end arms dealers couldn’t walk around unarmed, unfortunately.

Although her hands are occupied with holding Harley’s leash, there’s a gun hidden beneath Riley’s suit jacket as well. Mac’s stomach churns. The second Riley emerged from their bedroom earlier wearing that jet black suit, she was a different person. She was wholly Genevieve Turner, and no matter how hard Mac tried, he couldn’t find even a single trace of his best friend beneath the icy exterior.

Locking their SUV, Mac smooths the lapels of his own black suit and slips into character as well.

The dark clouds Mac noticed earlier are directly overhead now. Mac has never believed in omens the way Jack did, but he can’t help hearing Jack’s voice in his head, warning him that black clouds are a sign of certain doom. Or something like that.

There’s no one inside the warehouse, at least as far as Mac can see. “Hello?” he calls, the word echoing slightly in the open space. Aside from a few random wooden crates, the room is empty.

A door slams, and then an older man comes into view. He’s probably in his late fifties, with graying hair and a beer belly his shirt doesn’t quite cover. The man swaggers like he owns the place, although Mac doubts the leader of a terrorist cell would deign to play tour guide.

No doubt there’s a quip on the edge of Riley’s tongue about entitled white men, but she doesn’t share it.

The man extends a hand to Mac in introduction. “Conrad.” His sneer doesn’t reach his eyes.

Mac frowns, keeping his hands at his sides. “Last name?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

What he’s about to say might screw everything up before it even starts, but Mac says it anyway. In his gut, he knows it’s the right call. “If it doesn’t matter, then we’re done here. My wife and I have no interest in entering a business relationship with someone too inexperienced to understand that trust is integral to any transaction.” Mac spins on his heel and strides toward the door, Riley falling into step beside him.

“Wait!” the man calls. They pause, turning around slowly. “Deacon. Conrad Deacon.” The man seems to know he’s already lost. Good. “Welcome to the cause.” He gestures for Mac and Riley to follow him.

Mac stands his ground. In his peripheral, Riley stands utterly still, the perfect mask of cool, collected neutrality. Almost bored, even. It’s scary how easily she becomes her cover.

“Come on now,” Conrad says, taking a single step forward. “We have much to discuss.”

That’s enough of the power play, Mac thinks, but just as he’s about to give in and follow Conrad, Riley utters a single, sharp command that rings through the room. “Sit.”

Harley obeys.

Riley’s lips curve in a cruel, taunting smile. “Then enlighten us.” Mac suppresses a shiver; he’s seen this side of Riley plenty of times before, watched her hone it over the years, but it’s still unnerving. Admittedly, it’s also kind of hot.

Conrad ignores her entirely. He croons, “Why don’t we start with your names?” It’s phrased like a question. It sounds like a question, but Mac sees the demand for what it really is.

Mac gestures to Riley. “This is my wife, Genevieve Turner. And my name is James.” His father’s name tastes like ash on Mac’s tongue.

“And the dog?”

“Killer,” Riley sneers. Mac isn’t sure if she’s kidding or not.

Again, Conrad doesn’t acknowledge her. “James, why don’t I give you the tour and explain what we do here.”

“We’ll go on the tour, but we are not here to join your cause.” It takes every ounce of Mac’s willpower to maintain his neutral tone. “All we care about is what you’d like us to provide and how much you’ll pay for it.”

Conrad doesn’t hide his displeasure. “Fine. Follow me.”

Mac and Riley are led through the open warehouse. The layout is straightforward and nearly impossible to get lost in. But after Conrad shows them a room full of rifles—countless hung on the walls, floor to ceiling, the rest in half-open crates—Mac finds himself counting the number of wooden shipping crates scattered around the building.

He doesn’t like his final number.

Arming terrorists doesn’t sit well with Mac, even if it serves a purpose. It makes him sick, knowing he will likely be indirectly responsible for their next attack.

Especially because those crates are no doubt full of the kind of rifles designed to kill people most effectively. The ones hanging on the wall are military grade, probably cutting-edge. Desi would know exactly what they are and how they work.

Trusting Riley is paying close attention, Mac only half listens to Conrad babble about the cause. But then the older man says something that stops Mac in his tracks. “Our country is being run into the ground by whiny do-nothings,” Conrad asserts, “who waste our money and spew garbage that some people matter more than others. Well, you know what? Hardworking, everyday Americans matter. But no,” he scoffs, “those damn liberals don’t like it when we remind them of the truth. Once we’re rid of them and the insufferables who elected them, this country will be better off.”

The ground sways under Mac’s feet. He knows these people believe this, read it in Matty’s extensive briefing notes. But it’s another thing entirely to hear someone say it to his face.

He can only imagine what Riley must be thinking.

Clearing his throat, Mac tries to redirect the conversation. “Like I said, we don’t care about your cause. Just tell us what you’re looking for, and we’ll be on our way.”

Conrad eyes him suspiciously, but complies. “We’re looking for something a little more than what you can get at the store, you know?”

Mac doesn’t, not exactly. He’ll have to ask Desi later. “I do,” he lies.

“Good. Here’s what we’re willing to pay for it.” He hands Mac a folded piece of paper, and Mac does a double take when he reads the number. There are a lot of zeroes. “And as a show of good faith, we’d like it delivered tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Riley splutters. Mac feels it then, the broiling rage slipping through a crack in her persona. He needs to get her out of there. Now. Not just to preserve the op, but for Riley’s wellbeing. Some audacity Matty has making Riley play nice with men like this.

Mac slides his hands into his pockets, using the movement as a cover to brush his knuckles against Riley’s fist. I know. I’m here. I’m sorry.

For the first time, Conrad addresses Riley directly. “Yes. Tomorrow. Unless that’s something you can’t do?”

“We can do that,” she replies calmly, and the difference between her reactions is like night and day. As quickly as that crack appeared, it was gone.

“Excellent.” Conrad takes another step toward Riley, offering to shake hands, but Harley’s low, menacing growl keeps him at bay. Rewarding the dog with a quick scratch on the head, Riley closes the gap and shakes Conrad’s still-outstretched hand.

“It’s a deal,” she says. Following suit, Mac shakes Conrad’s hand as well and follows Riley out the door, neither of them uttering another word.

Mac drives. One look at Riley’s trembling fist decides for him.

By the time the warehouse disappears from the rearview mirror, he can’t take the silence anymore. “Hey,” Mac starts, but Riley cuts him off with a hand.

“Not until we’re inside.”

They hit every single red light between the warehouse and the apartment, and Mac anxiously taps the steering wheel. Raindrops land on the windshield. They’re small at first, but soon the drops are large and numerous enough to refract the streetlights, and Mac struggles to see where he’s going. He adjusts the windshield wipers over and over, never landing on the right speed.

Too slow. Too fast. Too slow. Too fast.

Mac settles on a setting that’s slightly too fast, and the squeak of rubber on glass nearly matches his heart thudding in his chest.

Riley stares straight ahead, unmoving, unblinking. Mac wants to reach out, to let a gentle touch say what he verbally can’t, but the road is slick enough to make him keep two hands on the wheel. We’re almost there, he reassures himself.

By the time he parks, it’s pouring hard enough that the ten second walk from the car to the door soaks them to the bone. Riley’s hands shake as she unlocks the apartment door.

Once they’re inside and Mac unclips Harley’s leash, Riley turns to him with pained, pleading eyes. His heart breaking all over again, Mac draws her in for a long, tight hug. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to.

Mac just cradles the back of her head and sways gently, wishing he could fix the world for her.

Neither pulls away, even when Riley suddenly says, “If Conrad was smart, he would’ve had someone bug our car while he paraded us around the warehouse. I don’t think he’s actually smart enough to do that, but we should check first, just in case.”

Mac curses himself for not thinking of that. “Good call.” He rubs Riley’s back, hoping the gesture is soothing. “I hate the way he treated you,” he snarls. “Like you weren’t even worth acknowledging.”

“Welcome to being a woman.”

It was more than that. They both know it. But neither say it.

*****

“You need what?” Matty shrieks over the phone.

Mac winces. “Sorry.” He’d called Desi first, to ask what kind of guns Conrad meant with his innuendo, and received a verbal lashing for not asking any follow-up questions. But she made her best guess anyway. Now on the phone with Matty, it doesn’t take even a single brain cell to know that her reaction will be much, much worse.

“He wants us to prove ourselves,” Riley adds. “As a show of good faith.” The words come out dripping in venom, but their boss doesn’t comment. Mac takes a second to study her; Riley changed into leggings and an oversized flannel shirt, and there are still remnants of dark makeup smudges under her eyes. Now, she’s sitting on the kitchen counter with her knees tucked into her chest. It’s weird to see her take up so little space.

Matty sighs, deeply and loudly in a way conveys her annoyance more than words ever could. “Fine. A few weeks ago, Border Control confiscated a huge shipment of smuggled guns near El Paso, so I’ll see if we can borrow those. But next time, Blondie, don’t make promises you can’t keep.” He doesn’t correct Matty in that it was Riley who made the deal. That would only add fuel to the fire.

“Thank you,” he says, and Matty hangs up. Mac runs a hand through his damp hair. “That went well.” Riley’s lips twitch, but it’s not the amused reaction he hopes for. He’s at a complete loss regarding what to say to her, so Mac gently asks, “What can I do?”

Riley slides off the counter, and Mac reaches for her automatically, although he doesn’t actually touch her; his hand hovers just beside Riley’s elbow. She doesn’t shrink away, but she makes no move to touch him either.

“Help me put him and everyone like him in a deep, dark hole where they can’t hurt anybody. And then just…” she trails off, taking a deep breath. “Keep being you.”

With that, she walks away, leaving Mac alone in the kitchen, racking his brain to figure out what that last part means.

*****

Later that night, Mac tosses and turns, replaying Conrad’s words. Once we’re rid of them and the insufferables who elected them, this country will be better off. They seem off-kilter, like what the man said and what he really meant are misaligned. Mac sighs, rubbing his face.

Another bolt of lightning illuminates the bedroom, and Mac automatically counts the seconds until he hears thunder rumbling in the distance. The storm is moving closer.

Beside him, Riley lies on her back with her eyes closed, although her breathing is too light for her to be asleep. Mac wonders if her mind is just as loud and chaotic as his.

For Riley’s sake, he hopes it’s not.

*****

Sleep never finds Mac.

The storm rages all through the night, but by the time dawn arrives, the thunder and wind dissipate, leaving just the steady downpour. The clouds are dark enough that Mac can hardly tell the sun even bothered to rise this morning.

When Riley’s alarm goes off, it’s like the shrill tone is mocking Mac for being awake. Riley groans as she shuts it off.

“Morning,” he mumbles. His throat hurts. He needs water. “Did you sleep well?”

Another groan. “No.”

“At least you slept,” Mac mutters.

Riley rolls onto her side, drawing one of the extra pillows into her chest. “Do you always toss and turn that much?”

It was his fault, he realizes, that she didn’t sleep. Mac suddenly feels guilty. “Sorry. And no.”

He expects Riley to be upset at being kept awake, but she isn’t. With a look that just might be understanding, she softly asks, “What were you thinking about?”

Mac can’t say that his thoughts whip around his mind like raindrops in last night’s storm. Not without sounding crazy, at least. So instead he says, “I don’t even know. I just have a bad feeling about this.”

“Me too,” Riley admits. “It feels off.” Her eyes are heavy, and Mac’s had enough early mornings with Riley to know it’s not just the lack of sleep weighing her down.

“Go back to sleep. I can handle the delivery.”

Riley rolls her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not letting you do that by yourself.”

He doesn’t argue. “Okay.”

A moment passes between them. It’s been happening more and more lately—holding eye contact a little too long, sharing smirks when no one else is looking, stealing moments where it’s just the two of them and nothing else matters. Each one gives him hope that there’s not a wall between them, but instead, a door. Someone just has to be brave enough to open it.

Sitting up, Riley quipps, “Just don’t make me regret letting you sleep in the bed with me.” Mac snorts.

“No promises.”

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ofaprilflowers · 3 years

Photo

- part 1: awake -

intro | next

My eyes feel as if they were glued shut. I try opening them slowly, but the lids feel like sandpaper against my eyeballs. My head throbbed, a numbing pain at the temples. I try to move my hand to rub at my eyes, but arms feel as heavy a log. How long have I been sleeping?

Eyes still shut, I can sense the lights are blinding. Was it from a lamp or sunlight? I don’t know, but my room was never this bright. Where am I?

My mouth is parched. Even licking my lips feels like a whole lot of effort. I try to make a sound, but only manage a croak. Help.

Why can’t I move? What happened to me?

I could feel my heart beating fast against my chest, a lump forming in my throat. The throbbing pain in my head turns from numb to sharp. Like a rod pressing against the points of my temples.

I can’t see, I can’t move.

I hear myself whimper, trying to call for help, but my voice barely leaves my lips. Instead, I begin to cry, one tear rolls down, then another.

I’m scared, I feel hopeless. Help.

At that moment, I feel hands gently wrap around mine. A murmur, a voice.

“Hey,” it soothes. “Hey, it’s alright, I’m here,” it says.

Whoever, I think, managing to move my fingers, trying to hold on. Grateful for a human touch. I try prying my eyes open again and this time they open a crack. My vision is blurry, like a fogged up windshield on a cold early morning. But I can make out the silhouettes in the room. A hospital? Ah yes, the accident. How bad was it?

“I’ve called the nurse,” says the voice. unexpectedly familiar. “She’ll be here in a minute.”

I stare at the the person seated next to me trying hard to focus my sight. I feel his grasp tighten a bit, a reassuring pressure on my hand. My head still hurt, but my vision was beginning to clear and I slowly began to make out the man’s features. I could see his eyes now, his nose, the shape of his mouth.

Wait a second. What?

I blinked. Once. Twice. Pressing my eyelids together just a little harder on the second one.

What is he doing here? Why is he holding me hand?

Confusion blurring my mind and the sharp pain stabbing at my brain, I feel myself drifting. A wave of unconsciousness, a heavy blanket covering my eyes, my body.

And then, darkness.

13 days, precisely.

I had been unconscious for 13 days.

I was awake now. The pain in my head back to a dull throb, but still there. The doctor (he’d introduced himself as Dr. Hwang) and 2 nurses were standing at the foot of my bed. They’d just finished a check-up and a brief explanation as to why I was here. Now, they were looking at me, waiting for my response to what I had just been told. Jaehyun was still sitting on the chair next to the left of my bed, staring at me. I tried not to notice despite the bugging thought his unexplained presence. I was out quite a while, maybe it was his shift or something. But why him?

I stared back at the doctor and nurses, then down to my hands. 13 days, huh? I felt like I just had a really long nap. In fact, I was still feeling groggy. I need another nap.

“It’s normal to feel a little groggy,” me head snapped up at the voice of the bespectacled doctor. He had a very pleasant face; pleasant looking eyes paired with a pleasant looking smile. Probably in his early forties. “That’s just your body getting used to being awake. It might take a few hours before you’re feeling fully conscious. However, there are some important things we’d like to ask you. Will that be okay?”

I nodded.

“As I explained earlier, you experienced a traumatic brain injury from the accident. A concussion. Basically, you had hit your head pretty bad on the steering wheel which caused you to fall into a coma. May I ask you, do you remember your name?”

“Ah, yes?” I looked at him quizzically. He nodded at me to go on. “My name is Astrid....Lee.”

“Very good,” he smiled, scribbling something on his notepad. “Now, can you tell me, as much as you can, what is the last thing you remember?”

My eyebrows furrowed as I tried to recall what happened. I remember driving. But where?

“Ah! I think I was driving to my friends’ house. He was celebrating his birthday.” Yes, Taeil was holding his birthday bash. The sound of the doctor scribbling floated through the air. I was on the way when...

“I think....there was, a dog. He came out of nowhe- oh no!” I gasped, looking up at the doctor. “I didn’t- I didn’t hit it did I?” I couldn’t remember what happened next. Did I stop? Did I hit it? God, oh god please don’t tell me I hit it?!

I didn’t notice I was digging my nails into my palm until Jaehyun reached out to hold them. I had forgotten he was there.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You didn’t hit it. You...you crashed into a tree.” That look. I don’t know what it was but why was he looking at me like that? What was he doing here again?

I slowly pulled my hand away, back onto my lap. Jaehyun looked...hurt?

“I’m sorry,” I said, turning back to the doctor. “Where are my parents? Shouldn’t they be here?”

“Your parents are on the way, Mrs Jung,” said one of the nurses. “They were here til late night yesterday. They went home to refresh, but they’re on their way, don’t worry,” she smiled.

Oh, okay.

Wait. What?

“What did you just say?” I must’ve hit my head really, really bad.

“Your parents are on-”

“No, no. Before that. What did you call me? I think you got my name wrong.”

The nurse opened her mouth, then clamped it shut. Something behind her eyes snapped as she realised something. A silence passed as I felt all 4 of their stares on me. Something is off. What’s going on?

It was the doctor that broke the silence.

“Could you tell us what year it is, Mrs- Miss Lee?” He had stopped writing, holding his pen up in the air.

“2017?” Something’s definitely up. I could sense Jaehyun tensing up, his legs beginning to tap on the floor

Dr. Hwang hummed, looking back down at his notepad and continued his note taking. “And how old are you?

“Twenty-one,” I could feel the throbbing pain in my head getting sharper. I stared at the doctor. “Why are you asking me this?”

He looked back up at me, then pulled a chair from the corner of the room and sat down on my right. He put his notepad down and looked at me with his pleasant eyes, although this time without the presence of his pleasant smile.

“May I call you Astrid?” He started.

“Okay,” I nodded.

“Alright, Astrid. When experiencing a traumatic brain injury like yours, it is not a surprise that certain functions of the brain may be altered. And in some cases, there is a possibility of memory loss.”

I closed my eyes as the pain in my head started pounding, increasing in persistence. I bring my hand up to my head, feeling the bandages wrapped around it.

“But I- but- but I remember who I am. I can’t possibly have memory loss, right?”

The doctor looked at me with pity, probably being used to these questions, but still having to bear the burden of breaking the news to patients and family.

“Having memory loss does not mean you forget everything. Most things about yourself remain intact. But often, it is certain periods of time that is lost.” He clasped his hands together and continued, gesturing his head towards Jaehyun on the other side. “Do you recognise this man?”

I turn slowly to look at Jaehyun. His eyes, I knew what they meant this time. It was a look I had felt so many times before. It was despair, and hope.

“Yes,” I breathed, eyes still locked onto Jaehyun. Him, frozen as well.

“And who is he?” the doctor continued.

“Jaehyun. A.....friend,” But, could you call someone you’ve known for so long but at the same time despise, a friend? At that point, Jaehyun tore his gaze away, his eyes instead trailed down to his shaking legs.

“Astrid,” the doctor called my attention back to his. “We are now in the year 2023. And Jaehyun here is, your husband.”

I scoffed. What silly joke is this? Him? My husband?

I hated him, and he hated me. This isn’t possible.

The pain in my head was crossing the threshold to unbearable. The doctor continued talking, but all sound was being drowned out.

6 years.

I had been unconscious for 13 days. But I lost 6 years.

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs “Firefighter.”

Still back on themed stories. Hope you like :) was fun to write.

The road ahead had been long, krill had never experienced something like this before, traveling over ground just for the experience of it all, and though, overhead he could see hundreds of hover cars cutting over the land in straight lines, the roads ahead were clear, almost no traffic.

In a way it was almost sad, though he couldn’t really explain why.

Though none of that was entirely as sad as Adam Vir’s driving. The human may have been able to fly anything with wings or a propeller, but when it came to driving a car, the man was an absolute menace.

Still, krill somehow found he liked the feeling of driving, with the sun shining through the open windows and the wind whipping past his antenna. When the human turned his music up, Krill was sent into a state of half trance leaning against the car door as wind whipped past his face and the land outside drew past in rolling hills of crops, yellow or green under the blue sky above.

He wasn’t even afraid when a rainstorm rolled overhead, and he watched raindrops pelt the windshield, rolling along the side of the car where the wind pushed them. Thunder roared outside, but it was almost comforting.

It was still raining when they pulled into the small hotel, just on the outskirts of the small city. It likely wasn’t part of the same establishment as the distant white buildings, but rather taken over as the city began to expand outward. Many of the houses here were still made of wood, and manufactured after old building codes.

Adam stepped from the car rain quickly darkening his shirt as they hurried towards the old but well-kept building.

A friendly clerk greeted them at the front of the counter smiling.

He glanced down at Krill eyes widening, “Well I’ll be a son of a gun, are you.”

“An alien, well yes my friend, he is.”

The man looked up his eyes still wide, “Wow, I it's a privilege. Never thought I’d see one of you in my lifetime, I tell you that.” The human’s smile was surprisingly pleasant, and he seemed genuinely pleased to see krill, and rill liked that. Happy humans were very pleasant, especially the ones that were excited to see you.

He never knew how to feel around humans. Either they scared him half to death, or they were more than welcoming to the point where he couldn’t imagine being in danger.

The Friendly predator behind the desk gave them a room, only one bed because Krill didn’t sleep.

“Storming pretty hard out there?”

“Yeah, some pretty serious lightning.”

The man nodded, “For sure, we don’t usually get storms this bad around here, but the farmers will be happy. We needed the water.”

Krill was mostly surprised to hear that farmers were still relying on their planets unpredictable weather to water their crops, but he didn’t bother to say anything as the two of them climbed the stairs to the third floor -- well Adam climbed, and he sort of just floated his way upwards.

The room they stepped into was old, but well-kept. There were no bugs, like Adam said there could be, and the rain drumming against the window was a rather peaceful sound. Thunder rumbled off in the distance and the occasional flash of lightning cut across the sky, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. Adam had been driving all day, so the human took his leave to rest flopping down on the bed and falling asleep almost immediately under the light of the TV.

Krill watched the light box interested in what else he might learn about humans, while his human practiced a little bit of death behind him.

The night wore on, and at some point there was a crack of lightning so bright and loud that it jolted adam from his sleep and krill from his reverie. It went away quickly and both man and alien went back to what they had been doing before. The TV channel stayed on, and slowly turned from nighttime television to reruns of concerts.

Krill hadn’t been expecting the music, and it lulled him into a sort of half trance.

It was only when the power went off did Krill finally awaken.

In the dark, and without a sense of smell he didn’t notice anything was wrong for the first few minutes except for the slowly increasing temperature. Something glowed orange outside the window, and it was only then, when the light broke slightly through in to the room was krill able to see a strange haze that had gathered up around them.

As the orange light outside grew brighter, a distant crackling noise reached him and the room lit up even brighter until he could see the acrid black cloud beginning to build around them.

A strange wailing noise reached him just as he was rushing across the room.

Before he got there Adam awoke coughing violently.

The orange light outside was joined by flashing red and blue.

Adam rolled form the bed and onto his knees on the floor coughing and hacking violently.

“What’s going on!.” Krill yelled

Adam continued to cough pulling his shirt up over his face, “Fire.” He coughed again

“Don’t you have alarms for that!” krill insisted

“Doesn’t matter now.” His coughing grew worse, and he tugged Krill down beside him as he crawled his way towards the window and the flickering orange light. A wall of smoke billowed up above their heads, and it seemed the closer they were to the floor the safer. He reached up to undue the latch on the windowpane, but as soon as the window was open, and they looked down a gout of flame spit up towards them from the second story window. Adam cursed and fell back into the smokey room as fire licked at the edges of the glass.

Krill could feel the radiating heat licking away at his skin.

Still coughing, Adam grabbed Krill again and began crawling towards the door. Reaching it, he threw out a hand against the wooden frame feeling the door with his free hand.

Below them, the floor was growing hot, and Krill could hear the boards creaking.

Adam covered his hand with his shirt and quickly shoved the door open as the two of them spilled out into the hotel hallway. The smoke was thick and dark here, but no fire.

Behind them flames were just beginning to lick at the windowsill and corner of the room.

Acrid black smoke followed them into the hallway.

Adam slammed the door shut coughing and crawling along down the hallway as thick choking clouds billowed over them.

Krill watched in horror as the smoke and failing oxygen slowly choked the human.

Krill survived on carbon, and smoke did nothing much to damage him, though the fire certainly would.

He could breathe just fine for the time being.

As they passed, the human knocked loudly on as any doors as he could unsure if everyone else had awoken when the fire began. They had reached the landing on the second floor now.

A gathering black cloud filtered up the stairwell with a flickering red light and tongues of flame. Krill was scared, sure he was going to die. The human continued to cough and hack violently as he grabbed Krill and dragged him back into the smoke on the second floor.

A few of the doors were open here, testament to the people who had managed to escape though the door right below their room flickered and smoke continued to pour out.

With fire behind them and fire in front of them, Adam stood hand over his nose and mouth, grabbed Krill by the arm and raced forward.

The heat was unbearable and Krill screamed in half pain as they roared past the doorway and though an acrid black cloud. The heat licking at them from the side. They were halfway down the hall when the human tripped and went spilling onto the carpet.

It was impossible to see now, like they had walked into a thick fog from a fog machine.

The human continued to wheeze crawling along the floor with Krill at his back.

They had almost reached the stairs when the human slowed, grew still and collapsed.

Krill panicked.

He couldn’t see, and the roaring of distant fire and the sound of sirens nearly deafened him.

Adam lay unconscious on the smoke stained floor.

Behind him the smoke continued to pour out but it seemed that the fire had died down.

Voices echoed up at him from the stairwell at, what he assumed to be, the end of the hallway.

Somewhere in the smoke, a blinding light, and a massive hulking shape appeared out of the darkness. He wondered vaguely if it was death come to take both of them.

He couldn't hear or barely see anything as the smoke billowed around them, but the figured dropped to its knees as other lights swirled around behind it.

It was humanoid in shape, and as it reached out he could see the five fingered hand covered in a massive glove.

Whatever it was it didn’t seem to want to hurt him, and, floating, he grabbed onto its arm.

Two more figures cut past them through the blackness moving up the hall and stopping at each door.

The bulky figure grabbed adam by the feet, adjusted him so the souls of his feet were on the ground. Then reached out grabbed him by the hand and hauled him upright and over one shoulder.

Adam hung listlessly against the creature’s back as the thing turned and made it’s way back towards the stairs.

Krill was at its back, still holding on, and what he saw was a massive oxygen tank, like the ones he had seen Adam use for diving.

Was this thing human?

They clattered down the stairs moving down as other entities were moving up. A billow of smoke cleared, and he saw one of the figures to be wearing a full gass mask.

He was pretty sure these were humans!

Humans who were walking straight into a burning building! Prepared and on purpose!

They turned the corner form the stairwell, and the hulking figure dragged them through the propped door to their right.

Smoke cleared form Krill’s face and krill could finally see the inky blue sky above them lightened slightly at the horizon by a rising sun.

He could see the creature better now, and to his shock it was most definitely human. A human wearing a thick brown-yellow uniform, helmet, gas mask and breathing apparatus with reflective strips all over their body. The grounds around the were crowded with frightened looking humans, and massive red trucks spouted gouts of water towards the smoking building.

They were dragged forward onto the lawn, and the figure knelt depositing Adam on the ground as others rushed over with an oxygen mask fitted snugly over his face.

“Are you alright?” Someone said, and he turned to find the face of another human as their rescuer turned and back towards the building.

“I, yes, I think so….. I’m a doctor…” he said not sure if he was really thinking straight.

He looked down at Adam, “Is he going to be ok?”

“Yes, he’s going to be fine.”

Krill turned to look back at the building watching in awe as the humans worked to put out the fire. Massive hoses, and some kind of chemical agent that could be thrown in like a grenade to cool the fire.

They walked around in massive flame resistant suits wearing gas masks and oxygen tanks only to plunge into the smoke and return moments later. He saw others being carried out and laid down on the grass, only for them to turn around and do it all over again.

Where any other creature in the universe might have balked from a fire, let it go on, the humans were not interested in allowing this to continue. They raced TOWARDS the fire instead of away from it, carrying unconscious individuals on their backs if they had to, and in their arms if that was needed.

Krill marveled at the sheer bravery, or perhaps, stupidity of these humans.

The flames died down and all that was left was smoke.

Adam was moved from the ground and into the back of an ambulance. Krill watched light spill from upper story windows as the humans searched every room unwilling to leave anyone unaccounted for. Krill learned in the ensuing time that the hotel manager had tried to cut cost and had bribed someone to avoid checking the alarm system.

Krill watched as a few of the strangely dressed figures pulled off their masks and helmets showing sweat and soot covered faces.

Real humans betting the odds against real fires.

Turning back, he saw Adam awake and sitting up. His face was tinged dark grey with the smoke, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was still coughing, but he was conscious. A figure appeared from the chaos.relieved from their mask and helmet.

She stopped by his ambulance, “I’m glad to see you’re awake.” the woman said, smiling past her sweat and soot stained face, her hair short and dark.

Adam looked at her, “Are…. you the one who carried me out?” He wondered

She smiled and nodded.

His eyes widened, “Damn, the whole of my 200 lbs ass.”

She grinned, “Yep all of it.”

They shook hands, “Adam.”

“Sofia, I have to get back to work, but I’m glad to see you’re ok.” She turned and vanished back into the madness.

Adam shook his head.

Krill floated next to him, “Who are these people?”

“Firefighters.”

“Seriously… that’s really what they are called?”

“Yes.”

“And this is how they make a living?”

“Yes.”

“Running into burning buildings pouring buckets of water on stuff and generally putting their lives at risk on a constant basis?”

“Yep that sounds about right.”

Krill stared at the human, he had been being sarcastic for most of that, but sarcasm becomes kind of pointless when your sarcasm is correct. He turned to look at the humans finally putting out the last of the fire.

How strange.

Humans who challenged the flames. One of the most powerful and destructive forces in the universe, and their job was to stop it?

HE shook his head in half amazement half wonder half annoyance.

Humans never stopped, did they.

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia

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nerdypanda3126 · 3 years

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Congrats on 100! If I’m not too late to request, I’d love #2 with Lukanette, please.

2. “I think I’m in love with you and it scares the hell out of me.”

Thank you so much for the prompt, angie! I hope you like it :3

Accidents Happen

Read on Ao3

It was an accident.

Ladybug was taking back Luka’s Miraculous, and her earrings were beeping frantically. He hurried to get his bracelet off and back in the box, but he fumbled it and they both landed at his feet. As he crouched to pick them back up, her transformation dropped and he saw her flats—Marinette’s flats—before he was able to slam his eyes shut.

She swore under her breath and he felt her crouch beside him to slip something out from under his fingers.

“Did you see anything?” she asked, her tone all business. He heard her pack his Miraculous away and the box snapped shut. All he could do was nod. How had he never noticed that Ladybug’s voice matched Marinette’s? There was more authority, more confidence, sure, but it was unmistakably her. He felt her fingers brush his hair away from his eyes, but he kept them dutifully closed.

“We’ll talk later, Luka.” Her tone had softened, and before he could say anything, he felt the soft brush of her lips against his cheek. His eyes flew open, but she was already gone.

He saw Marinette several times over the next two weeks, but she was always with her group of friends, or with Kitty Section, or she’d catch his eye and go pale before changing direction and marching away from him.

He didn’t mind waiting. She said she’d talk to him, and he knew she would when she was ready. But it still stung to think that she was purposefully creating reasons not to talk to him. To avoid him, even. In an effort to distract himself, he worked out his frustration as he biked around town delivering pizzas.

He stood to get more leverage on his bike and pedaled hard, not particularly caring where he was going, just so long as he was moving. No one else knew. She hadn’t had to talk to anyone else about this, yet. Who knew what she was feeling or working through right now. Although he wished she would work it out with him instead of alone. Why did she always take everything on herself? Didn’t she know he was there for her and he only wanted to help and—

He braked hard to avoid biking directly into traffic, but he’d been going too fast and his balance was off. He was flung over the handlebars onto the sidewalk. His palms and forearms scraped against the pavement as he caught himself. His helmet hit with a crack and bounced before he skidded to a stop.

He hissed as he rolled over and sat up. Good thing he’d been wearing pads and a helmet, but it still didn’t prevent him from feeling like a bug splattered across a windshield. He looked back at his bike. Pizza was scattered everywhere. His bike was upside down. The front wheel was still spinning at an odd angle and his basket was crumpled. Thankfully he’d left his guitar in his locker at work today. That was another good thing, at least. He groaned and lay back against the sidewalk. This day could not get worse.

“Luka?”

Correction. This day could get worse. Because Marinette was standing in the door of her parents' bakery and had just seen him eat pavement.

“Oh my God, Luka!” She rushed over to him, and her hands were a flurry around him, a thousand little touches that went like electric shocks straight to his heart. Her fingers on his forehead, his arms, his cheeks, and the whole time a worried frown plastered on her face.

“I’m okay.” He smiled and tried to stand to prove it, but he hissed as soon as he put weight on his right foot.

“No, you’re not.” She slipped her arm under his to support him and steered him towards the bakery.

“Marinette, I have to finish my shift and—” She silenced him with a look.

“Your boss will have to understand.” There was that tone again. Ladybug. He was too stunned to argue anymore. Instead, he let her lead him inside and set him down in a chair inside the bakery. She unhooked his helmet and laid it aside, pushed a phone into his hands, and ordered him to call his work before she flitted upstairs.

By the time he’d called, explained, and hung up, she was back with a first aid kit. She started tending to him quietly, quieter than he’d ever known Marinette to be, and she was just starting to scare him when she paused in wrapping his ankle and looked up at him.

“I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you.”

His breath caught in his throat. He started to say something, but she held up a finger to ask him to wait. He nodded and closed his mouth again.

“I was trying to find the right time and the right words, but I guess the right time found me, didn’t it?” She smiled and placed his newly bandaged foot back on the floor. “I know…” she bit her lip and looked away. “I know that you know.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “But there’s something else. Something I need to talk to you about, especially now that you know, and it’s important.”

He nodded to show her he was listening. She glanced around the empty bakery before she sighed.

“I’ve been avoiding you because…” she was twisting her fingers around each other and a blush was creeping up her cheeks and he wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold her hand.

“Because I think I’m in love with you?” Her words left her in a rush. He wasn’t even sure he’d heard right. “And it scares the hell out of me, Luka, because, well, because I have responsibilities and now you know what those are and I wanted to tell you for so long, but what if—I mean, it’s dangerous for me to be attached to anyone. Especially someone who also holds a Miraculous, and especially especially someone who knows who I am but…”

Her eyes traveled back to his. “But I can’t help it,” she admitted softly, “I can’t stop thinking about you. Even when I was trying not to talk to you, I was wishing I could talk to you. And every time I see you, my heart just pounds out of my chest and I didn’t know how to tell you, so I avoided you. And I’m sorry. And now you’re hurt and I’m telling you and I didn’t want it to be like this, but I couldn’t wait anymore. So there it is.”

He let her words settle into the silence between them. He’d heard her, of course, but the actual words were taking their sweet time to sink in.

She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and she was starting to frown. “Luka? Will you please say something? You’re kinda staring at me.”

Was he staring? Was he even awake? No possible way this was real life. Although when he tried to move his right ankle, it certainly stung like real pain. He winced as he shifted forwards to take her hands in his.

“Marinette?”

She gulped and nodded.

“I think I might have hit my head when I fell.” He chuckled and squeezed her hands. “Can we back up just a little bit? Back to the ‘you think you’re in love with me’ part?”

She fidgeted and he let her pull away from him so she could pack away her kit and keep her eyes down. She’d talk when she was ready. He was patient; he could wait. He focused on his breathing while he gave her space to think. Finally, she stopped moving and looked back up at him.

“I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, Luka.”

He smiled and scooted out of his chair to lower himself to the floor next to her. He pushed the kit aside and tipped her chin towards him so he could look in her eyes.

“It would be worth it.” He stroked her cheek gently and her blush sprang up under his touch. “I would crash my bike every day if it meant you would tell me you loved me again.”

“You did hit your head,” she muttered, but she was smiling and her cheeks were getting redder by the second. “And besides, that’s not exactly what I’m worried about.”

“I know.” He pushed her hair aside and tucked it behind her ear again, exposing her plain black earrings. Even though he knew, even though he’d seen, he still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it. Marinette was already amazing and brave and kind and now she was also the heroine of Paris. He let out a soft laugh. “You are the most extraordinary girl, Marinette. And to be honest, you scare the hell outta me, too.”

“I do?”

He nodded. “Absolutely.”

“You don’t seem scared.”

He held out his hand and gestured for her to give him hers. She laid her hand in his with wide eyes and he watched her expression as he brought her hand up to his chest to lay over his racing heart. He swore it picked up a beat or two when she splayed her fingers across his shirt.

“I’m terrified,” he admitted softly. He had to pause to take a deep breath because he was starting to get light-headed. This day had started as one of his worst, and her admission had turned everything on its head. Including him, apparently. He chuckled softly. She never failed to surprise him, that was for sure. “I have what’s probably a sprained ankle,” he continued, “maybe some road rash, I’ll be covered in bruises tomorrow, and my bike is wrecked.”

She started to frown and pull away, but he pressed his hand against hers to hold her there.

“And I’m still the luckiest person alive right now.”

Her eyes snapped back to his. He paused again to let her process before he wrapped his hand around hers to hold it. “I’m in love with this amazing girl—” he smiled when her breath hitched— “and she just told me she might feel the same way. If you asked me, I could get up and tap dance right now.” She giggled and his smile grew. He loved that sound. He loved her. “Marinette…”

He tucked his finger under her chin again to angle her lips up. Slowly, tentatively, he leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “I can take the bike wrecks,” he whispered, “and anything else if it means I can be with you.”

He waited, eyes closed and heart open, for her to consider. After a few moments of excruciating silence, her breath fanned across his lips and then she was pressing into him hungrily. Her hands tangled in his hair and he wrapped his arms around her to pull her closer, ignoring the small sting as his raw forearm scraped against her jacket.

A not-so-subtle throat clear at the door broke them apart. Luka opened his eyes and found Marinette’s mom crossing her arms and surveying the two of them sprawled across the bakery floor. Luka’s face flamed, and he waved sheepishly. Marinette untangled herself and helped him up, and they both blushed when she slipped her arm under his again. He might’ve leaned into her a little more than he needed to, and he couldn’t seem to stop smiling.

“Luka was hurt,” Marinette rushed to explain. “His bike and his foot and I—”

“I saw his bike outside.” Her mom was starting to smile and she gestured to Luka to sit back down. Marinette helped him into his chair. “Your dad will be home soon and if you don’t want a full 12-course sweetheart banquet, I suggest we keep the rest between us.” She winked and went behind the counter, leaving Luka and Marinette relatively alone again. She caught his eye and they both let out an embarrassed chuckle.

“We can always say it was an accident,” he said, smirking.

She shoved his shoulder playfully before she sat next to him, definitely closer than necessary. His arm fell easily around her shoulders.

They were quiet for a moment while they both let their conversation and the resulting kiss sink in. He started humming absent-mindedly while he rubbed small circles on her shoulder with his thumb. If she wanted to talk about it, she would. He was patient. He could wait. Heart racing, barely breathing, fearfully hoping—he could wait for her.

"Luka?" she asked hesitantly.

He smiled as he looked back at her, snuggled into his side like she belonged there. "Hmm?"

She reached out to worry at the zipper of his hoodie. "Is it really that simple?"

He sighed and gave her shoulders a small squeeze before he moved her hand over his chest and laid it over his galloping heart again. He tapped out his rhythm on the back of her hand until it finally slowed. She dug her fingers into the fabric of his shirt and leaned into him.

He laid his head back against the wall and smiled as he sighed again, this time in deep relief.

"It can be."

#miraculous ladybug #mlb fic #ml fic #lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #luck of the draw

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lifepros · 3 years

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#13118

If you ever have to live in your car... How to save money & be comfortable!

Bring Milk Crates For More Surface Area: If you have a small car like I do, you probably won't be able to sleep comfortably in the back seat due to the lack of surface area. In reference this video (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S_Usqf7aNxg), you can place milk crates in your backseat and cover them with blankets to increase your sleep surface area. You might even be able to extend your legs all the way! If you still can't, like me, it's still quite comfortable. I cycle through 3 sleep positions:

Back against the seat, head facing the windshield, legs 90% extended over milk crates. This is known as the "J Sleeping Position" in the YouTube video Butt resting against front seats with most of body on the milk crates, head facing the direction of the rear windshield. Leg extension will probably be about 70%. Face down with right leg near a 90 degree angle on top of the milk crates, and left leg 100% extended into the crevice between the passenger seat and the door.

How To Wash Dishes: When you finish your meal, use paper towels to wipe out all the food scraps that are left on your utensils, plates, and bowls. After it looks completely empty, use a dish brush, a bit of water, and some dishsoap to lather up all your things with soap. After they're all lathered up, use a squirt bottle of water (to direct and conserve water) to wash off all the soap. Ideally, you would use very hot water, but that's not always realistic.

Cover Your Windows: You should cover your windows, not only for privacy, but so you have an easier time sleeping at night without as much light coming in. You can cut out black plastic to cover your driver-side windows & place them by rolling up your window to trap the plastic so it dangles down. Your windshield can easily be covered by a traditional sun cover, usually used to block the sun's heat from getting trapped in your car. Your rear-windows are best covered with a window sleeve that acts as a bug net, this way you reduce the transparency of the window, but more importantly you can open the windows a crack and get ventilation without risking any bugs from coming in. The best way I found to cover the rear windshield is with black plastic placed from the interior of the car, and using strong magnets to hold it (placed on the interior and exterior of the car). This is all partly shown in this Youtube video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S_Usqf7aNxg

Getting & Storing Water: Some people recommend asking businesses to use their water supply (visible outside the building) to fill up your water tanks, but I haven't had success with that. It's hard to find, the employees usually don't know the water supply exists or if they're allowed to allow you to use it, and I usually just get told no. Instead, I fill up a 5 gallon jerry can with water at the grocery stores, which is great because this water is meant for drinking. This means you can get clean water super cheap for both drinking and bathing. For storing your shower water, you put it in a 5 gallon bucket with a waterproof sealing lid. For drinking water, you can keep it in your 5 gallon canister and pour it into water jugs (using a funnel) whenever you run low in your bottles.

How To Accessibly Cook Quickly & Easily Anywhere & Store Fuel: I can't give tips on how to cook quickly and easily without making product recommendations, which is not allowed in this group. As for storing fuel, I can't make this recommendation blatantly for all fuel as they have different temperature storage requirements. For the fuel I use, which I cannot mention due to the rules, I've been recommended to store it under the passenger seat (to minimize exposure to heat) and I haven't had any problems. When storing fuel, make sure you park your car under shade whenever possible (during hot days) and put the sun visor up in your windshield to block some heat.

How To Find Work: I can't recommend specific places to find work due to the rules, but what I can do is recommend freelancing and/or independent contracting gigs (which let you choose your own schedule, who you do business with, and where you work). Although, it seems the US may pass legislation to remove most (accessible) contractor work and consider it employment, which would remove contracting's beneficial, flexibile qualities. Keep an eye on that!

Eat All Your Meals at Once (Unless You Eat Out): If you're working while you live in your car, it's really impossible to cook 3 meals a day due to all the prep-time, eating-time, and clean-up-time it takes. You can fall into a pattern of eating one meal a day without feeling hungry, but please ensure you're eating enough calories for your age, weight, etc. You should probably also see a doctor to make sure it's safe to do for you. It saves a lot of time and makes the day's routines so much easier.

Do Your Own Laundry: Laundromats can get expensive if you go frequently, and you may not have even brought enough clothes with you to get through a few days without doing laundry. Some people do their own laundry in buckets, but it seems like too much set-up and too much water. I had success doing 1-2 loads of laundry per day in a "wash bag." It takes literally 5-7 minutes to wash & rinse each load of laundry. To dry it fast, you can "squeegee" the clothes with your hand to get any leftover water out, then place it with maximum surface area exposed onto a laid out towel. After all your clothes are laid out onto the towel, you can roll up the towel with the clothes in it until it looks like a long snake. Then, you can squeeze, press, and even put your knees all across the towel a few times to get as much water absorbed from the clothes into the towel's fibers. After this is done, you can hang a clothesline with paracord in the woods from tree to tree to hang your laundry by clothespins in the sun. Personally, and this might not be healthy, I hang my laundry on a clothesline in the back seat of my car with a towel laid underneath, and I try to park my car in locations where the clothes will be exposed to sunlight. By the end of the day, the clothes are almost always completely dry, even on cloudy, rainy days.

Go To A Real Laundromat 1x a Month: The towel you use to dry your clothes should definitley be washed, but it's probably too big to fit in a wash bag. Your blankets are also likely too big. This is why I take all my stuff to the laundromat for one "real" wash a month. Just because I'm going, I also include all my clothes which are ordinarily washed by the wash bag, as well as my pillowcases and anything else I can find that might need a wash.

The Cheapest & Most Accessible Shower Option: Some people use gym memberships to have consistent access to a shower, but gyms can be expensive and if you're traveling, you won't always have access to the same gym, and you probably don't want to have 10 different gym memberships.We're going old-school and using a bucket full of water. I take my jerry can full of water and fill up a 5 gallon bucket about halfway. I go out into the woods with a "shower tent" (for privacy), a change of clothes, flip flops, a bucket of water, shampoo/soap/hygiene items, a small towel, a bag (holding most of this), and a canteen. I set up the shower tent and fill up my backpack full of all the clothes I was previously wearing. I then put my bag of clothes and shoes outside the tent, while I'm nude wearing flipflops inside the tent. Then, I use a canteen to pickup some water from the bucket and do 1 big dunk of water over my head, trying to get it to run over my whole body. I take a 2nd canteen full of water to wash over areas I missed (armpits, groin, etc). 1st thing I wash is my hair with shampoo. Then I lather up with soap all over my body. After that, I take about 5 or 6 canteens full of water to wash off the soap with water. Most of the time when I wash my body, since I'm pretty tall, I do it in a crouched position so I can hold the canteen above my head in the shower tent. After I'm all washed off, I dry off with the small towel and start putting on my clothes except my socks. I go outside the tent to sit down on a rock and dry off my feet and put on my socks and shoes (without getting the socks wet). I usually try to shower around 6 or 7am when there's less people around and there's daylight (and there aren't mosquitos everywhere). If you have leftover water in your bucket, you can put a waterproof sealing lid over the top of it to store the bucket safely in your car.

How To Be Covert: It's hard to be covert about sleeping in your car because you'll have black plastic hanging on the outside when you're sleeping, and during the day you'll have laundry in your back seat. I don't have a solution for any of that. But, in the morning, when you shower, you might have some serious stage fright if there's people around. What I like to do is pretend I'm going for an early morning workout into the woods (usually of a park or hiking trail). My backpack carries all my hygiene items so no one sees them. I carry the bucket full of water with the lid on as if I'm going for a workout carrying heavy stuff into the woods. Over my clothes I'm wearing an overlay warm-up/workout jacket and pants. That way, when I shower and change clothes and come back, I'll still have the overlay jacket and everything over it, so people won't see the change of clothes and won't be suspicious. Also, in the event someone comes across you in your tent and asks what's going on, you can make up a lame excuse (and see if they accept it) that you saw a tick on your body and wanted to do a quick tick check before you return to your car (so the tick doesn't escape into your car). I haven't had anyone come across me before. One of the most important parts of being covert when showering is actually going deep enough into the woods, off the hiking trail, to be away from people for the short time you'll spend showering.

Where To Sleep: You can sleep in most Walmart parking lots without having to buy anything. Some Walmarts don't allow people to park there, so you might consider calling the Walmart before you come. You can also sleep in truck stops, but I'd recommend doing your research to make sure it's popular and big enough so that you'd feel safe. There are apps with listed places you can park for the night, and some truck stop apps tell you how many parking spaces their truck stops have (so you can guage popularity).

Security: Never tell anyone where you're sleeping or even that you're sleeping in your car. If you feel unsafe where you're parked, find a new place to park for the night. I recommend carrying a knife and/or pepper spray if you feel comfortable. At the very least, carry a loud whistle. Always lock your doors at night. Have a flashlight/lantern accessible and nearby. If you're exceptionally worried about getting mugged or things stolen from you, I've heard a tip where people wear a fly fishing vest underneath their clothes and keep all their important possessions in its pockets. If someone mugs you quickly, they'll probably just ask you to empty your pockets and it'd be too difficulty/long to have you take off all your clothes and then unzipper your pockets and empty them. Other than that, always make sure someone knows where you are and where you're going, checks up with you in the morning to make sure you're safe, and are "on-call" in case you call or text them in an emergency.

NOTE: I do not sleep in my car full-time. I go every once in a while for 5-7 day (or so) bouts because I find it enjoyable. The 1st thing I wanted to do when I started this was find strategies to make car-living comfortable and easy. I really hope these tips find someone in need and helps them strategize a way to do so comfortably and frugally.

Updates:

Charging Electronics: You can get a power bank that holds a long charge. Use this to charge things like your fan, phone, smaller power banks, laptop, etc. The best place for charging things that I've found are public libraries. A great way to access wifi, get work done, keep in touch with people, etc, all while your power bank charges. Look for power banks that can charge a laptop 2-3+ times.

Staying Cool In The Summer: Getting an electric car fan (that works by USB) will save your sanity in the summer. You can place it between the driver and passenger seat at night and direct it either at you, or at the ceiling to circulate the air. I don't think living in a car can be comfortable in the heat without a quality fan.

#tips and tricks #life pro tips #life advice #life pros #lifehack

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wherearemyglassesbro · 4 years

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Present Mic headcanons because I’m broadening my writing horizons ✨✨

Rememeber how Sam from iCarly had a remote with sound effects? Zashi for SURE has one of those and will use it for applause sound effects during his lessons...and also an occasional fart noise to make the class laugh :)

He can do fantastic voice impressions but not really for people, for things. A police siren, clanging pots, trumpet sounds, because of his quirk and his vocal range he can make all sorts of sounds!

Ok ok ok when he’s driving he can be very impatient so if someone in front of him is going too slow he sticks his head out the window and goes ‘WOOWOO!!’ Like a police siren and that person pulls over and he just SLAMS on the gas to go around them, cackling like a madman ‘HAAAA FELL FOR THE OLDEST TRICK IN THE BOOK!!!’ Bruhhhhhh....

In his English class he plays a lot of 80s and 90s music while the kids work. He really gets down to Prince and MJ. “Aw c’mon! I’m cool! I’ve still got sick moves and grooves!” “No one listens to this stuff anymore” “WHA-“

He sits up late at night to scroll through Twitter or other social media sites to stay in the ‘meme loop’ so he can understand his students references “Wow! Totally poggers, Iida!” “Mic Sensei NO-“

Zashi doesn’t have any glassware in his apartment. Plastic cups and plates! Cause if he sneezes in the kitchen and a glass shatters?? Not fun.

^^he also has cracks in his windows in his apartment and had cracks in his car windows too from sneezes that were a bit too loud.

Omfg when he sneezes it’s like the loudest dad sneeze ever. You’d think he sneezed his own head off just cause it’s just so damn forceful lmao

He’s always drumming his fingers or bouncing his leg, he’s always got a song in his head so he taps along to it when he’s sitting idle

When students do good on a paper he draws a ‘mini mic’ at the top of the page :)

He carries around 5 hour energy shots in his pockets cause he has such a busy schedule. From teaching to patrol to hosting his radio show this guy barely sleeps!! But he’s gotta keep up his energetic personality!! Soooo...energy shots!!!

Oh!! He has keychains with his hero friends on them. He keeps them on the bag he takes to work just cause he thinks they’re cute :)

He’s on level 756 on candy crush because in his very lite free time, he manages to blast through multiple levels every day

He sprained his ankle while using Heelies and yelled so loud that he cracked 10 windshields and 6 windows of nearby cars/buildings. So embarrassing... Insurance covered though oop-

When he sees little kids he can’t help but smile! Especially babies he loves babies but he’s afraid of being too loud around them so he watches from afar ‘maybe I could be a dad one day :)’

You know when you get like a little itch on your back or on your shoulder outta the blue? Every time this happens to him, he thinks it’s bug so he practically rips his jacket off and shakes it out. Every time. He KNOWS it isn’t a bug but what if it IS?? His subconscious convinces him every time. It must be so exhausting being so afraid of lil bugs lmao dude

#present mic #hizashi yamada #testing the waters... :)#ask away!#always up for hc requests!#never written for b/nha before so 0-0 yee #bnha

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cherryplasmids · 4 years

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☆ opportunities ☆

pairing: nick jakoby x reader fandom: bright—after movie sequence anon request: You could write anything about Nick Jakoby , especially something sexy , and I would be super happy!! 😈😈 notes: NSFW (don’t be silly, wrap your willy) (this is my second smut piece, my first with a male character so please don’t roast me for this)

—check out my other works; masterlist

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After another tiring day filled with paperwork, one arrest, and nasty insults, Nick just about had it. Even after he saved the world (along with Ward), the working conditions within the Los Angeles Police Department remained the same. Day in and day out, he's being overlooked for serious cases to do intern filing. The harassment has dwindled a tad bit since Pollard had been disposed of, but Nick still feels the suppression by his peers and superiors. No matter what he does, it'll never be enough.

The only good thing about being the only Orc is the fact that he can do nightly patrols alone. He can listen to smooth jazz or orcish metal without Ward bugging him about it. The thoughts swirling in his head can be sifted through in quiet. There's plenty of endless opportunities he can grasp onto during night patrols.

One of those opportunities is the chance to speak to you without Ward pestering him to hurry up. No, the nighttime allowed Nick to savor a few, undisturbed moments with you before he clocks out.

By the time Nick pulls up to the bodega you work in, it's a downpour with thunder in the background. Surprisingly, the usual shining yellow lights are completely out and the front of the store is closed up. Nick looks down at the dashboard where the red digital clock shines: 11:37 pm. His forehead furrows. The bodega's closing time is 1 am, not 11 pm. It's odd and a bit saddening. Nick deflates at the missed opportunity to see your gorgeous smile. Even more so when he realizes he has tomorrow off.

He'll wait for the next chance.

Putting on the windshield on the fastest mode, Nick peels out of the sidewalk and continues his patrol. He has less than half an hour left on his shift. He'll make the best of it by driving slow since the usual bodies walking the streets were gone to avoid being drenched. The thunder calmed his sadness as he drove. However, he noticed someone walking the streets. Ward's voice automatically rang through his brain, ‘don't be too nice, it only causes problems.’

But when did Nick ever truly listen to Ward's negativity? No, he wasn't going to let someone potentially get pneumonia. So he pulls over to the shaking figure whose umbrella is practically broken. It doesn't shield the person from the rain at all.

Nick rolls down the window. "Excuse me!" The person halts and turns to him. He can't see who they are through the blankets of rain. "Would you like a ride? Can't have you getting sick."

Their head frantically nods before bolting inside his vehicle. Instead of sitting in the backseat, they slide into the front with him. "Nick, you are my guardian angel."

At the voice, Nick freezes. He knows it better than he knows most protocols for his job. Like a bee flocking to fresh flowers after a rainy day, he constantly attempts to be around that voice for rejuvenation. But that only happens when he's prepared to see you. He needs to hype himself up before speaking to you. After he saw the bodega closed, the energy simmered down to calmness. Now, he's anxious because the pep talk motivation is all gone. He knows he'll just make a right fool of himself in front of you.

You begin to shed your soaked jacket and the cardigan underneath before throwing them on the car floor along with your side purse. After squeezing out the excess water from your hair, you turn to greet Nick with a smile. It takes a lot of willpower for Nick not to stare at your hardened nipples.

"Hey," His voice cracks and he wants to die. "What were you doing walking in this storm?"

You dramatically threw yourself on the backrest before huffing. "Fernando told me to head home early because of the rain, but he fucking forgot to pick me up. Talking about being busy and shit. We all know he's too busy fucking Maria. I wanted to call Daryl but it's practically midnight and I know he would drag me through the wringer if I dared to bother him. Then, I was like," You gasp, "I can always count on his really cute but shy partner." You give Nick a sly look and he looks away bashfully. To keep himself occupied, he begins driving away. "But I realized that he never gave me his number so I just decided to walk instead."

Nick never knows how to respond to your teasing or flirting. The suave style his inner self tries to hype him with never sees the light of day. Instead, it's replaced with stuttering. "I drove by the store." Again his voice cracks, so he says it again. "To look for you. I mean to get a red-Redbull."

The expression on your face lets him know that you definitely heard what he said. "You do that often, you know?" He looks at you expectantly while making a right turn. "I thought in the beginning when I would flirt with you, that it was one-sided. You always look so damn uncomfortable. But then, Daryl tells me sometimes when you don't have the night shift, that you still pull up to the Fernando's at midnight. I thought to myself, why would Nick do that if he obviously doesn't like me?" You snap your fingers. "But then I started noticing the little glances you threw at me, the little compliments, and the adorable flush of dark blue on your skin. I knew right then and there that the feelings are definitely mutual.

"And yet, you never make a move." You sigh and mumble an "I don't get it."

This is the most conversation Nick has ever had with you and of course, he's fucking nervous. Inner Nick never prepared him for such a conversation. At this point, he just wants to jump out of the car and jog to the police station. He'll make an elaborate story about how he got hijacked by a gang. Yeah, he'll get more ridicule for it, but he doesn't care. As if sensing his dilemma, you reach over, grab his arm and tell him to drive a different way to your house. He doesn't question it but he's confused by the time he drives into deserted dirt-covered land. He turns to ask you about it, but the smolder you give shuts him up. Your hand returns to his bicep and it flexes underneath your fingers. After feeling his muscles for a bit, your hand travels to hold his chin. He watches you carefully, lips parted and eyes wide.

"Tell me what you want."

Nick stutters for a moment, unable to comprehend the situation. Is this a dream? It has to be. In this reality or any other alternate realities, you would not be sending out such delicious pheromones directed at him. Pants tightening and hands sweaty, Nick whispers his desires. He needs you now before he explodes.

You smile sweetly before leaning over and pressing a searing kiss on his lips. As soon as it connects, Nick is moaning as if you'd already sucked him off. A little pride swells in your chest. While your working on his lips, your other hand moves down to rub his bulge, eliciting even more moans. It's making you extremely hot. So, you move away from him and take your shirt off, leaving your bra-less chest hanging out. Eyes wide, Nick looks around frantically.

"We can't—" You cut him off with another kiss to his lips.

"Do you trust me?" He nods eagerly. "Then trust me when I say no one comes here. Now let's take this to the back, shall we?"

After quickly going from the front seat to the back while trying to stay as dry as possible, you pounce on Nick, hands roaming his broad chest while he tentatively moves his hands to cup your ass. A low moan comes from you and in turn, Nick grabs them harder. His lips begin to trail down your neck as you're grinding on his restricted cock.

You're chanting for Nick to fuck you already. Words like 'please', 'fuck me', and 'oh god' fill the air alongside low growls from Nick. Eventually, he's had enough with heavy petting and decides to let himself go. You barely get a chance to see his cock before he's ripping a hole in your leggings, moving your panties, and inserting himself within you. A loud gasp emits from your lips as you try to grind yourself down some more. But you can't.

No, Nick is in charge.

His powerful thighs give him the leverage to pound into you at unknown speeds. You once even said faster, and your boy complied swiftly. His hands grab your hips hard, using you as a rag-doll as his rhythm picks up and you're getting fucked to the point your seeing stars. There's drool seeping out of your opened mouth and Nick takes it as a chance to lick it up before digging his dull tusks into your neck. As soon as he does, the Big Bang happens behind your vision, the built orgasm just exploding.

Despite this, Nick continues. Your pussy is oversensitive but you don't tell him to stop because he hasn't gotten his fill yet. But you know you're going to orgasm again before he does. Not even a minute later, you do. At this point your begging Nick to finish. You begin to kiss his neck, searching for his sensitive spot. When you do, you suck on it as if your life depends on it. That does it for him.

A deep, loud orc growl emits from him as he says "Fuck!" Within seconds later, he's spilling his cum into you. It takes a moment for him to fully finish, but even after he's done, he still holds you.

"Oh, Nick." You breathily moan as you peel yourself off of him. Looking down, you find his uniform pants completely ruined—your juices mixed with his cum smearing his entire right pant leg. "We made such a mess."

Nick shyly smiles, his chest still moving at a rapid pace. "Sorry,"

Shaking your head, you lean forward into him and press a kiss on his sweaty collarbone. "You know how you can make it up to me?" He hums and closes his eyes, savoring your gentle touches. "By taking me to dinner and maybe, just maybe, making me your girlfriend."

His eyes snap open to watch your expression for a moment. A soft smile adorns your swollen lips, eyes on the verge of closing, and face devoid of any worries. His heart feels full of adoration, knowing that he wants to have you in his arms for as long as he can.

Without replying, Nick presses a kiss on your forehead, hoping that action alone can convey everything he wants to say.

────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

word count: 1,823 published: april 7, 2020 edited: n/a

#nick jakoby #nick jakoby x reader #nick jakoby imagine #bright #bright movie #bright imagines #bright fanfiction #bright x reader #orc boyfriend #Orc x Human #orc x reader #exophilia #exophilia x reader #monster boyfriend #x reader #imagines #fanfiction #nick jakoby fanficiton #dragonglassx

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bearseokie · 4 years

Text

Fretful | bb

genre: horror, comedy, supernatural! au, romance pairing: beetlejuice! bambam x human! gender-neutral! reader word count: 1.8k [warnings]: mentions of insects, snakes, ghosts/spirits, magic, one curse summary: It’s going to take the worst of the worst to rid your home of some unwanted house guests, but allowing in a professional that’s more gags than ghoul - and becoming charmed by him - definitely wasn’t on your agenda.

got7 m.list | navi.

You spent nights lying wide awake too scared to even close one eye. The crashes and cackles all around frightened you to your bones, shivering beneath the covers. Things would shatter, your belongings tossed about carelessly, sounds you would only hear in horror movies echoing through the building. The spirits terrorizing your home even went as far as tampering with you, pulling on your ankles and yanking at your hair. The moment sharp nails met your skin, you called out for mercy.

It was only when a flyer was anonymously placed on your car’s windshield that help would truly arrive. The pamphlet printed with a backwards name on it slowly opening in your hands to reveal part of the truth behind the supernatural. Decorated with minimalistic details, a simple description read inside.

“Drain a little more clogged than usual by hair that’s not yours? Sounds you have never heard before coming from your basement shaking you awake at night? Is your home full of pesky ghosts you want gone? With a trio-ed call of the name you can’t read, all of your worst nightmares will disappear.”

The flyer held a picture of a man inside, his matted hair the color of moss and face as flawless as it was disturbing. The professional-looking flyer sat on your kitchen counter, soon becoming an extra weapon used against you when it went flying at your head. Turning to meet empty air, you rubbed at your temple full of frustration. With the pamphlet cover side up, your eyes gazed over the title once again, the name now recognizable. It was read by your conscience, but not said out loud.

Lips moving to form the first syllable of the name, your feet were swept out from under you, your body jolted against the open kitchen wall. Detained against the smooth drywall at your back, your eyes shut from fear, long fingers holding at your arms. This was your final straw.

“BamBam. BamBam. BamBam.”

A crack of thunder sounded from outside, the entire house falling dark and silent as the spirit released you from its hold. Vanishing from your senses, the oxygen refilled your lungs with a deep breath, the scent of death suddenly filling your nose as you slid back to the ground.

Thudding signaled from your fridge, the appliance shaking rapidly before the door swung open. A thick cloud of smoke filled the room, your eyes burned as the scent grew stronger. A man emerged from the small space, stretching out his arms with a deep inhale and peered around the room. Tethered clothing on his body, he looked fresh out of a grave, dark eyes finding your own in the gloomy kitchen.

“I haven’t heard my name called in so long. I almost forgot it’s my own!” he chimed, teeth white but covered with a layer of bugs. Sticking his index finger with his mouth, he hummed at your shocked expression, flicking out the insects as they fell onto the floor and scampered away. “Sorry about that. You might need an exterminator of pests next. But for now, you’ve got me!”

He cheered alone, tossing his hands into the air and flailing them around in celebration. His hands clamped down on your arms, pulling you into a tight hug. You stood idle as he reared back, a confused expression on his face.

“Can’t expect everyone to react the same.” He said to himself, nodding before he let you go and pushed back from you.

Turning his body, he bent down into the fridge, rummaging around as he pulled out strange drinks you didn’t have stocked along with a number of other items you would never keep in a refrigerator. A loud squeaky toy for a dog was tossed by your head, his hand finding something that made him jump as a snake slithered past your feet and disappeared within an open cabinet. In a matter of seconds, he was lifting out a large bag. Placing it beside the fridge, he slammed the door shut, mumbling to himself about what was inside of the large carrier.

“Rope? No, not rope. Maybe some sage? Oh, I can’t touch that. How about uh-“ he stuttered, looking up at your silent form wearing an unreadable expression. “Oh, you look scared.”

He stood from the bag, dropping the old rope within his palm and letting it coil back into the carrier. With a light laugh, he stuck out his hand to take yours, shaking your entire body with his greeting. “I’m BamBam: professional ghoul ridder-er-er. Yeah.” The man was quite awkward, his stance loose with his knees bent as he nodded to himself again and carried on with the bag at his feet.

“I take it you’ve been dealing with these ghosts long enough to know one when you see one, right?” His smile was almost charming, skinny legs standing his body up straight again. Awaiting your answer, his arms moved around his back, hands clasping together as he rocked on his toes.

“Y-Yes.” You finally stuttered out, finding your voice in the mix of the chaos.

“You do speak!” He nearly yodeled, bouncing in his shoes. Wearing a wide grin, he tugged out a long plank of wood from the mysterious bag. Pulling it up into the air inch by inch, it almost hit your ceiling before he tilted it horizontally and angled it out.

“What’s that for?” you asked lightly, watching his face light up.

“This? Oh, this is just for me to make the ceiling sturdier when I go to scare off the ghosts. And for this.” He spun on his heels, the long piece of wood whacking into an unseen person as they cried out, clamoring on the floor. “Got one!”

A shadow figure came into view, their hand raised to their head caressing the spot BamBam hit against without warning. The green-haired man cackled similar to how the spirits do at night, tilting the wood before he rammed it into the spirits head again, knocking them out cold on the floor.

“Silly bastards don’t know who’s coming for them!” he grinned at you, leaning back to meet your full gaze with a wicked look on his face. “A-ha! You made the right call here, darling.”

You wanted to redact saying his name three times, the cryptic yet entertaining man more than you requested. He leaped around your home looking at the ceiling before he said something you couldn’t make out. Turning the plank back vertical he slid it between your flooring and the beam through the middle of your ceiling. He applauded himself at the work, your concerned expression halting him in his tracks.

“Now - you see, things are about to get a little messy. And while I’m responsible, I’m not taking any lawsuits.” His voice turned slightly serious, his hand pressing against your back as he guided you under the beam and next to the sturdy plank. “Therefore-” He grinned widely at his own voice, watching your eyes glisten with curiosity. “I won’t be held liable for this.”

The kick of the board brought the ceiling to nearly collapse, holes breaking through the wooden beams sending insulation down with more of the dark shadow figures. Almost on cue, BamBam’s arms rose into the air, his tongue slithering from between his lips like a snake as his foot slammed against the floor. Boards breaking under your eyes, the ground seemed to open up in spots similar to the holes within the ceiling, each shadow figure looking at one another before they plummeted down into the deep abyss. BamBam’s hands balled into fists, swaying the clenched palms like he was conducting a symphony. The holes in the floor broke with fire, sealing with pitiful cries of those that had fallen until the home was laced with only silence and the thick panting of the ghost investigator to your side.

“Only room for one ghost here! Not so bad, you see?” He smiled. “How do you prefer payments? Once a year until you're dead, or a quick pull of your heart out now?” Question eerie, the man read your face as worried, laughing with his tongue protruding out - but now normal - as he choked on his own cackle and shook his head. “Jokes! They’re just jokes. For you, maybe a sweet peck on the cheek as a deposit?”

You rocked on your heels, staring at the man with bulged eyes in wonder and fear mixed together. His head jutted from his neck, cheek wide and clean as he awaited his kiss. You were between being in debt to the ghost for the rest of your life, or just a quick kiss? What could truly be worse?

Your lips perked, pressing the smooth skin to his roughly textured face. The breath from his chest released, his body rising into the air as a content and loving look loomed over his face. The expression bright and humane, small hearts floated around his head before popping one by one. Your heart sputtered at the bizarre man, internally questioning how someone so different could be so charming at the same time. His feet lowered back to the ground, a look of sadness behind his irises as he blinked down at your cold hands.

“Well, I suppose I’m off then. Don’t you worry about those pesky spirits any more. And I’m always three words away!” he grinned, laughing at himself for his reference. The last of his pearled smiles taking your view, he backed towards the closed fridge, slowly taking his leave.

Opening the door of your refrigerator, the steam from within released into the room, the temperature hot compared to the cold smoke that would naturally depart from the appliance. BamBam’s smile saddened, your voice caught his ears just as he bent down to retreat back from where he came from, a new look of elation in his eyes from your soft voice.

“Maybe come back again, but sooner?” you asked, his cheeks becoming rosy from the light tone in your voice. “You seem to always be alone-” Mention of his caprice seity intrigued you, watching the corner of his lips rise into a gentle smile at your attentiveness. “-but maybe I can be some sort of company every once in a while?”

His eyes were bright compared to his scary aura, the color of his skin grew flush at your words. He seemed more excited about speaking to you than he did taking care of your ghosts, the tame grip of his hands around the handle of the fridge releasing as he bent down again to step inside. His voice called back to you, muffled by the strange void as he finally left you. “I’d quite like that! If you enjoy another little haunting from time to time!”

#got7creators #got7 #got7 drabble #got7 au #got7 supernatural au #got7 x reader #bambam #bambam x reader #bambam drabble #got7 horror #got7 comedy #bambam scenarios #bambam imagines #got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #got7 bambam #kunpimook bhuwakul #got7.drabble

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searchingwardrobes · 4 years

Text

The Early Leaf’s a Flower: 7/11

In this chapter, Emma sets off on a search for home, but is she only running? Meanwhile, Killian learns that a voyage may be in order to stop Pan’s evil schemes. I promise, this is the last chapter that Emma and Killian will be separated! I think (hopefully) your wait will have been well worth it ;) At any rate, this chapter has some really important revelations. Oh, and don’t try to make this story fit canon. Just don’t. Storybrooke really is just a normal town, and the only Once characters in it are the ones I have named. I haven’t forgotten about Snow and Charming, I promise. You just have to trust me! (I’ve said that a lot, haven’t I?)

Much thanks as always to the mods of the csrt event at @captainswanbigbang. Also thanks to @optomisticgirl and @shippingtheswann for their beta skills.

Summary: She saw eyes that were the blue of the forget me not peering at her through the cracked door of the wardrobe. He saw hair as gold as the buttercups. Why does the wardrobe keep bringing them back to one another, if fate keeps tearing them apart? Or maybe fate has her reasons …

Rating: M for eventual sexy times, violence, canonical character death, and attempted rape

Trigger warnings: vague references to child abuse (physical and sexual), violence, and positive Millian

Words: About 3k in this chapter

** Complete and updated every Monday** Also on Ao3

Emma: Age 21

Emma wedges the last cardboard box into the backseat of her Bug, and Graham grunts as he slams the trunk shut. She’s honestly surprised he managed it. For someone with no roots, she sure was able to pack this car tight. Not that it takes much in a VW Bug, but still.

“Are you sure about this?” Ruby asks as Emma shuts the door.

“Yeah,” Graham says coming around the front of the car, “Tallahassee is an awfully long way from Maine.”

Emma shrugs. “There’s farther.”

Ruby rolls her eyes. “But you have a life here. Plus, if you stay, you get to be one of my bridesmaids.”

Ruby nudges Emma’s elbow, making her smile despite herself. “And I so want to wear those lovely dresses Bertie at Modern Fashions designed for you. What color was that again?”

“Salmon,” Ruby laughs, “but if you stay, I could convince her to do them in magenta instead.”

Emma chuckles too. “Now, that changes everything!”

“Now, Emma,” Graham cuts in, “it’s a long drive from here down to Florida. Pull over if you get tired, and make sure you check the oil regularly, and -”

“Would both of you stop?” Granny admonishes, shooing Ruby and Graham away so she can pull Emma in for a hug. “Don’t listen to them, sweetheart. You’re young, and you need to spread your wings.”

Emma nods against Granny’s shoulder, willing her tears not to fall. When the older woman releases her, Ruby claims a hug. When the brunette releases Emma, she clasps her by both shoulders and gives her a long, intense look.

“If you don’t find what you’re looking for, you’ll come home?”

Emma sighs. “I’m sorry, Ruby. Storybrooke’s been wonderful, but home is something I’m still searching for.”

Ruby shakes her head. “Or maybe you’re running.”

“Maybe. But when you really have a home, and you leave it, you just . . . miss it. I’m gonna keep running until I feel that.”

“Well, if you feel that for us -”

“Then I’ll be back.”

The two young women embrace again, and then Emma gets behind the wheel of the dilapidated yellow car she had saved for two months to buy in cash. Ruby’s ex, Billy, had done a ton of work on it for the cost of parts only, which had taken an additional two months in tips from the diner. Nevertheless, the Bug is now hers, and she has owned precious little in her life. She turns the key in the ignition, puts the car in gear, and waves goodbye as she pulls out of the lot in front of the inn. She watches Granny, Ruby, and Graham get smaller in her rearview mirror until she drives out of downtown Storybrooke.

There’s a stretch of countryside before she reaches the “Leaving Storybrooke” sign. For some reason, she glances in her rearview mirror again as she crosses the town line, but all she sees behind her is a long, lonely road. She sighs as she turns her gaze back out the front windshield.

She isn’t so sure the view there is any different.

Killian: Age 21

Killian picks his way gingerly through the thick foliage that runs along the ravine in the heart of Neverland. He shifts his grip on the parcels tucked beneath his right arm and swings his hook through the braken. Every time he comes to the island, the dreamshade is more prolific, daylight is shorter, and the trees drip with more lichen and moss. The scent of decay and death fill his nostrils. The fairies are right, the island is dying.

He releases a long breath of relief when he reaches the ravine and is away from the danger of the dreamshade. He ducks beneath the moss and vines covering the enchanted entryway, all of it thicker than it was on his previous visit. He taps his hook on the rock wall in the rhythm Tink had instructed, and it dissolves before him, revealing a tunnel lit with fairy magic. Finally he reaches a quaint wooden door covered in fairy runes. He touches them with his hook in the correct order, and then he hears the lock click. A greeting is on his lips, but he holds them back at the sight before him.

Wendy is in a rocker by the fireplace, singing a lullaby as she darns some of Michael’s socks. The boy himself is curled up in the bottom of the two bunks set into the wall, fast asleep with his thumb in his mouth.

She stepped away from me

And she moved through the Fair

And fondly I watched her

Move here and move there

And she went her way homeward

With one star awake

As the swans in the evening

Move over the lake

As the final line drifts over him, Wendy glances up from her mending and lets out a cry.

“Hook!”

She leaps up and races across the room, flinging herself into Killian’s arms. He lets out a grunt at the impact, barely managing to keep hold of his parcels. He glances over her shoulder and is shocked to see Michael sleeping through it all.

“What did you bring us?” she asks, eagerly taking the packages.

“Everything on your list,” he tells her proudly, “and one or two surprises.”

“Candy for Michael?” Wendy shakes her head when she sees Hook shrug. “You don’t need to spoil him.”

“And you don’t need to act like a little mother. How old are you now?”

“Thirteen,” she replies with a tilt of her chin.

Killian frowns. “You should be giggling with your friends and getting into mischief, not darning socks and worrying over how much candy your brother eats.”

“Or attempting to mother lost boys,” says a voice over Killian’s shoulder, and he turns to see Tink coming through an archway in the back wall with piles of blankets in her hands.

“Oh, the linens!” Wendy exclaims, taking the load from Tink far too eagerly. “It’s washing day,” she tells Hook.

“Don’t change the subject,” he reprimands, “what’s this about mothering lost boys?”

“Shh, Michael’s napping.”

“Wendy -”

“Ok, ok,” she huffs, dropping the bedding onto the small kitchen table, “so I sneak out sometimes into Pan’s camp -”

“Pan’s camp!” Killian exclaims, turning incredulous eyes on Tink, who just shrugs and shakes her head.

“When they’re all asleep,” Wendy clarifies, as if that makes it ok, “and I only go because the little ones cry for their mothers. I sing them back to sleep, you see, and -”

“And you could get caught by one of the older ones!”

“There’s no use talking to her, Hook,” Tink sighs, “Tiger Lily and I have already tried.”

Killian narrows his eyes at Wendy, but she avoids his look by ripping into one of the parcels he’s bought. “Lace!” she squeals. “Oh, Hook, you shouldn’t have!”

He turns bright red as she hugs him again. “Well, you said your handkerchiefs were shabby and needed lace, and the king’s navy was carrying this ridiculous gift for the crown princess from the Duke of Glowerhaven. Lord knows that woman doesn’t need any more frippery when her people are starving, so -”

“Just admit Wendy’s got you wrapped around her little finger and stop babbling,” Tink laughs.

He doesn’t even attempt to deny it. He can’t find a way to get Wendy and her brother home; the least he can do is brighten their days in some small way.

“Hook,” Tink says, lowering her voice so Wendy can’t hear, “we need to talk.”

“In my experience, I’m never in for a pleasant conversation when a woman says that.”

Tink just rolls her eyes and pulls on his arm. Wendy is too busy with her sewing basket and the new lace to notice as the fairy pulls him down the hallway and into her room.

“Why Tink,” he teases with a wink, “if you were getting lonely, you could have just said so.”

Tink scowls at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Funny, but some females are immune to your charms, pirate.”

“Not many,” he can’t help teasing with an arch of his brow. It’s true. He hasn’t lacked for willing and eager company at any port, though none of his conquests have succeeded in filling the aching hole inside him.

“I need to show you something -” she lifts a hand and rushes to add, “in my books of fairy lore.”

Tink pulls a cracked and faded tome from her bookcase. It’s so old that a puff of dust billows up as she opens it. Killian chokes as he waves his hook in the air to clear it.

“Is this about the pixie trees dying?”

“The island dying you mean,” Tink corrects, “which means Pan is dying, too. He and the island are connected.”

“We knew all this already,” Hook says, shaking his head, “and the why really doesn’t matter, in my opinion.”

“What we didn’t know was the connection between that and the little ones the shadow kept bringing to Pan.”

“Like Mason and Michael.” Killian looks over Tink’s shoulder at the book. He can’t make sense of the fairy runes, but he does recognize a sketch in the middle of the page. “Is that a flower?”

“A buttercup, specifically,” Tink answers, “and according to this prophecy there will be a special child with this mark.”

Killian rubs at his chin. “Felix said Mason didn’t have the mark, and then Michael mentioned something about it as well.” He picks up the fragile book, balancing it gingerly on his hooked forearm so loose pages won’t fall out. “What else does the book say about this child?”

“That it will be a boy with the heart of the truest believer. That his lineage will be both royal and common, magical and non-magical.”

Killian lifts his gaze from the page before him to lock it upon Tink. The pale color upon her cheeks makes his heart sink.”What are you not saying?”

Tink moistens her lips nervously. “The worst part is . . . that the heart of this child can restore life to the dying. Renew magic that has been lost. That’s why Pan is looking for this child.”

“But the child dies so that bastard can live?”

Tink nods grimly as Hook slams the book shut. Fury rises in his chest as he thinks of Mason, now nine years old, a fine pirate already, looking more and more like Milah with each passing day. He thinks of Michael, only six years old and sleeping with such easy trust in the other room. He knows from experience how cold-blooded Pan can be, but this?

“Too long have I let this demon elude me,” Killian growls, slamming his hook into the wooden desk before him. “I’ll gut him like a fish; I’ll end him once and for all.”

“But Hook, you and your crew have had how many skirmishes with the lost boys?”

Killian’s eyes flash. “You doubt me?”

“Of course not, but we have to be realistic. Pan has magic, you don’t. It’s why he always gets the -” Tink breaks off suddenly, her face turning deep red. “That is, I mean.”

“You can bloody well say it,” Killian grumbles, “he always gets the upper hand.”

Tink winces, then tentatively reaches out to him. “What it comes down to is this - it’s time you and your crew went on the offense. You have to leave Neverland, and I don’t just mean to visit your favorite ports or wreck havoc on King George’s Navy. I mean leave. Use the pegasus sail to search the realms and find -”

“You’re leaving?”

Hook and Tink whirl to see Wendy standing in the doorway holding a tea tray in her trembling hands. The sight cuts him deep. For some reason, taking care of people is Wendy’s way of coping. She deserves better. Tears well in her eyes as she gazes up at him. She thinks he’s a bloody hero for some reason

“Hook, are you leaving? For good?”

He sighs as he reaches out gently to take the tray from her hands before she drops it. “Nothing’s been decided yet, lass, but I may need to take a lengthy voyage to find someone. A boy like your brother, actually.”

“What about us?” she asks, her eyes wide now and her breaths coming fast. “You said you’d find a way to get us home.”

Killian closes his eyes, silently cursing himself. It was a promise he never should have made. Tink and Tiger Lily have searched every book of magic they own, and he has inquired of sorcerers and enchantresses at every port. They still don’t know of an antidote for the waters of Rainbow Falls.

“This can be good for you and Michael too,” Tink puts in. “Searching different realms means a myriad of magical possibilities.”

“But how long?” Wendy whispers. He and Tink can’t answer that question. In the silence, Wendy does something that takes him completely by surprise. She flings herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist in a tight hug. “I’ll miss you. Please don’t be gone too long.”

Killian lifts his good hand tentatively and awkwardly pats Wendy on the head. He looks up nervously at Tink.

“I don’t even know where to begin looking.”

“Well,” Tink says hesitantly, “all we have to go on is the words of the prophecy. He’ll be very young, like the other boys. He’ll have one royal parent and one who is a commoner. One magical parent and one non-magical. Wait, no, I read this wrong . . . “

Killian steps away from Wendy to look again at the page Tink is perusing. Not that it makes any more sense to him now than it did moments ago.

“Of both a land of magic and a land of none.” Tink murmurs.

“Like my home,” Wendy says casually.

“Wait - what?” Killian asks, his heart suddenly pounding.

“My home,” she repeats, shrugging one shoulder, “there was no magic there. That’s why Michael and I kept going to the window to see the shadow. John told us it was silly but -”

“Wait a minute,” Killian says, shaking his head and taking in a sharp breath, “I’ve been to a land with no magic, too.”

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

Killian stands in front of the old familiar wardrobe for what feels like the millionth time. Not once in the last five years has it led him anywhere. Perhaps it was only waiting for this day . . .

Tink and Wendy had wanted to come with him to see it, but he feels that he has to do this alone. His fingers twitch at his right side, and he has to take several deep breaths before he reaches for the handle. He knows what this means. If he is to search Emma’s realm for the boy, he’ll have to test fate and see what happens when he lets the light that can take him back home fade. He also is unsure how he will explain this to Emma, not that anything about their friendship has ever made sense.

He closes his eyes, counts to three, then pulls on the knob just as he opens his eyes again. His breath rushes out when he sees nothing but an empty wardrobe. Swearing under his breath, he climbs inside, pounds at the inside walls, but finds them sturdy and unyielding beneath his fist.

Killian jumps back out in frustration, slamming the door of the wardrobe behind him. He stalks to his desk, shoving things aside to make room for maps and star charts. He’s heard the names of many of the realms: Wonderland, Oz, Arendelle, Camelot, Narnia. He’s even discovered star charts that can get them there with the aid of the pegasus sail. But a land without magic? There’s only one way he’s ever gotten to a land like that, and it is apparently barred from him.

No matter. Tink said the boy was of a magical land as well. He’ll simply have to start there. He breathes heavily as his gaze sweeps over the stack of maps before him. Ever since he and Liam were lads, he’s been fascinated with maps. They both were. The Brothers Jones, planning adventures across the realms.

“If you were here, Liam . . . “ he trails off, hanging his head as memories wash over him. Then he takes a deep breath and tightens his jaw. “If you were here, you would find this boy. You would be the hero.”

He taps his hook in agitation as he begins to plot a course. He’s no hero, but he’ll do this for Liam. For Milah. For Wendy.

Meanwhile, in a Land Without Magic . . .

Olivia Bridges has been a social worker for twenty five long years, and she’s seen a lot of things in her caseload. Yet she’s never seen a case like this. It should have been a slim volume of straight forward paperwork. Infants given up at birth were always immediately adopted. This one was especially ideal - the birth mother wanted a closed adoption. Those were rare these days. A successful, single woman had adopted the boy, taking him home from the hospital days after his birth.

Then she’d brought him back a month later before she’d even signed the final papers. Colic.

Olivia rolls her eyes remembering. The woman didn’t deserve to be a mother in her opinion. Not that anyone ever listened to her opinion.

Yet the boy’s file still could have ended there. Colic or no colic. But it didn’t.

Olivia pats the boy’s knee now. He is three years old and still has no home, despite his adorable mop of brown hair and large eyes like melted chocolate. The reasons have varied: colic, night terrors, seizures. None of it should have mattered.

She smiles down at him and reminds him that someone is adopting him today. He looks silently up at her, and she wonders if he’s already cynical at three. She rises, takes his hand in hers, and leads him into the next room.

A young man turns and smiles at them as they enter. An adoption by a single man as young as this one is rare, but in this child’s case, it may be the only option left. Besides, the man has gone through every government hoop necessary. He’s invested a considerable sum of money and passed physicals, psychological profiles, and home studies with flying colors. He’s also recently engaged to his boyfriend of the past year (who’s also passed every test). Honestly, Olivia’s only concern is that this one sticks.

“John Darling,” Olivia says, “meet your new son.”

Tagging: @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @teamhook @bethacaciakay @let-it-raines @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @winterbaby89 @xhookswenchx @courtorderedcake @branlovestowrite @hollyethecurious @vvbooklady1256 @profdanglaisstuff @carpedzem @ekr032-blog-blog @jennjenn615 @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @spartanguard @shireness-says @scientificapricot @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @superchocovian @sherlockianwhovian @snidgetsafan @ohmakemeahercules @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @nikkiemms@delirious-latenight-laughs

#cs ff #csrt #captain swan rewrite a thon #cs neverland au #cs canon divergence #magic wardrobe #soul mates #fate #angst #slow burn #childhood sweethearts

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anosmi16 · 4 years

Text

a story

I felt neither good nor bad… A giant television on a metallic coffee table in the Hall Leopard print seats Wallpapers decorated with white roses Buffet full of colorful drinks A giant black air conditioner Wall mounted antique turntable setWe tied up on a handmade rug with a burgundy pattern. Stars were falling on us from the bright stones of the chandelier above us. For the first time in the light, I had the opportunity to examine everyone.If you ask me I'll tell: I'm 19; I'm not national yet. I made a living making french fries at McDonald's for a while. I make breakfast with milk and biscuits. I say I drink tea without sugar, but I don't drink much. My grandfather said I didn't have as much intelligence as open yogurt. Maybe he's right; my grandfather was a yoghurt man.

Every fall he falls in love again, chasing after racy women; I'll finally sleep in the bosom of honest women. When the rain comes down on the city, the wet bridge bottoms, I think of hazy parks. Although I'm very sorry, I don't like to give money to a beggar.

My boyfriend and I had been separated for a week. I worked for the White Pages cleaning company on minimum wage. That's where we met the trust. We were sent to wipe the window of a skyscraper.

The trust called me home on a cloudy April day. I set off at sunrise in the morning. The bus was full of breath. I put my head against the glass, wandering among the colorful flowers of the Rising Sun, I watched him cover the horizon with curtains between wine liquid and gold dust. My uncle next to me drove the worst Cologne on the market. Suddenly it started raining. Why does the rain suddenly start in my stories?..

My companion wiped the misted glass with his hand and created a space the size of a turtle. We were just watching it together. The rain descended into the city like a wall of water. Rainwater that fills the hole in the concrete, he ran Mother Nature, who made coffee with milk, like a “barista.” The same waters, in the soil, were a visual feast of chocolate pudding. Water gushed from both sides of the bus, which went like a knife. So to speak, his city was flooding; and so to speak, … I got off in Hatay and walked home. The rain stopped, and a silvery rainbow appeared. The last silver drops were creating Mercury-colored balls where it fell. The water dripping from the eaves to the tin roofs kept the rhythm. It was the oldest building in the area, with cracks in the wall in places.Trust Fish-stamp blue eyes, Auburn blunt hair, he was a boy with angular facial features, bright skin, a bird of prey look. The trust had interesting moves: He would turn his eyelids upside down, showing off his bloody skin. We went out on the balcony and watched the boys play ball. The ball was drawing muddy pictures on T-shirts, with the natural palette the street offered. At that moment, I loved those children more than he did.A sweet sun opened, caressing the hair of my arms. As the Rays descend in a yellow wave, a lemon butterfly flying upside down hit a clothesline and took off again. It was like I started life today. A happy baby giggled inside me. I hung from the balcony and looked down. On the lower balcony was an aunt who sang songs to the lovebirds. A grey cat was rubbing its nose against melted house slippers. As if at that moment, there was a softness of cat hair all over the city.

The floor was full of bait, and birds were placed on our balcony. His mother used to feed birds. The balcony was a dump. I got an idea! I collected all the bait and poured it all the way to the Hall. He came in eating about ten pigeons. We jumped them ... but one of them was caught. He fluttered his tail like a dying fish. We cut off his head and plucked his feathers and cooked and ate them.

Two hours later, his mother came home. She was one of the old Istanbul women. Her hair was Golden like a wet kadayif sucking sorbet. He wore glasses with a pink frame that were appropriate for this Color. He had an aquarium on his lap. A coral-colored goldfish was swimming in it. His mother looked at us with her blurred face after the cambered glass. His face was bigger than it was; or so it seemed to me. He didn't like slang, blasphemy, he was an obsessive type. When he saw me, he showed sweet kindness, which is trust.; - A few people from the apartment when we caught the pigeon. he was rude and swearing, but don't worry, we fucked them, too. quoth. 🙂

I showed the trust the fish; it raised one eyebrow and said, " Never Mind.” he made a sign like a der. Her mother told me when she went to her room: - Since the fish died last month. I think he thinks he'll die if he doesn't.

I was ashamed to see loyalty to the covenant that I had not seen in anyone in this woman… "Didn't you see the prayer necklace around his neck?, ” my mother is extremely distressed at the moment, " he said. 🙂 Substitute dementia drug Dozyl Easy she said she often took birth control pills. She lamented that she still couldn't forget her husband, who died of cancer. He made an arrow and showed me the photo on the wall. It was a picture of a man with a mustache in a striped short-sleeved shirt. He was a member of the Butchers ' Association. A meaningless expression sat on the trust's face.

I noticed that until that moment, he never mentioned his father.; I didn't know what to say. Did he expect me to laugh or be upset? It annoyed me that he determined my actions. I'm not sure I left the house and locked the door, I was in that moment of ambivalence between leaving and coming back. Fortunately, he dropped his eyes on the ground and moved on to another topic. I sucked my lips so I wouldn't laugh.

It was like our classic mothers.… Clicking on the icons in”quick launch " many times before opening… Bank passwords are 1234… He doesn't know the email passwords and gets a new one every month… Who never throws away yogurt containers… "Eat stale bread today, eat fresh tomorrow” what he said, entered the endless cycle of bread at home… Even for fresh bread to come in line, or guests to come or a few weeks had to pass…

They can't focus on anything but what they think! It doesn't matter what you ask, it matters what you think. That's why the answer you get with your question is completely irrelevant.

He said his mother locked the bathroom even when he was at home. - What, I said, Everybody does that. - He said I wouldn't. - But you love her, right? I said. - It doesn't matter to me! quoth. - How can it not matter, I thought it meant so much to you? I said. - He's important to me, not his thoughts! To see your dreams more clearly, do you know he's been sleeping with his glasses on for three days? quoth.

Suddenly his mother called out from the kitchen: - Guys, come on, I made tea!

I was so surprised when I walked into the kitchen. His mother filled the glasses with hot water and looked at us with candy in her hand. When I saw the empty water in the bottom and top teapot, I knew you didn't put the tea in. But he kept asking how many sugars we were going to throw in the water, as if nothing had happened. Confidence began to scream: - Mom, are you hard to tell, or is the signal late?

Apparently, until this age, he lived like a plant in a pot… If I'd stayed in that house a little longer, I'd have lost my mind!

2 Months Later… The fact that we rarely saw each other prevented our friendship from deteriorating. On a hot June night, my phone rang at three in the morning.

Güven: Brother, we're coming for you! “Yihuuuuu” sounds and shouts from behind… Girls with cracked, detonated voices mixed with road noise…

I'm wearing my best clothes; I think maybe I am. An hour later a grey Audi braked bitterly in front of me. There was confidence at the wheel. Because of two girls dancing in the back, Foundation, sweat, underarm, crushed lipstick scents wrapped the car like black tulle. Inside the car was so dark, their faces were mice, his eyes looked like a pinhead. A Midsummer Night's car that gives me goosebumps, he was moving forward, knocking down the trees he had dismantled on the windshield. The dark blue cool of the morning gave me the creeps, licking my face. He was driving full of confidence. He just turned and; – I have good news and bad news to you. Which one would you like to hear first? quoth. - The bad one, said one of the girls. - We're almost out of gas! - So, what's the good news? he shouted, another one. - But it's not over. When we arrived in the rich district of Hatay, Nokta, we got out of the car. The building was like a bright star rising stubbornly to the houses next to it. There was another bug-black Audi outside the door. Handan, - It's dad's spare car, they're in the summer, he said.Girls by word of mouth: "He left the key at home!"they shouted. The apartment was on the fifth floor. The balcony door was closed. - Is the balcony locked? I asked. - No, it's open, they always said it.The famous " free dynamite, let the ass explode!"I remembered our proverb. It was a marriage to climb that apartment for free. I hugged the ground floor irons running. I crossed the first floors like a spider. As I rose, an invisible, malignant hand hung down my shoulders. The month of June, the depth of the apartment… In that purple night that moves inside me… Rusty balcony irons soaked in moisture in the air…I wanted to go to the inside of the balcony on the last floor. I hung so hard on the iron that I watched tiny dust flow from the wall. I jumped in and looked proud from high to low. They raised their arms and applauded me. I was a rock star greeting fans on the concert platform. And they are poor "groupie"… Why didn't I fly at them? Only the shadow of that thought passed through my head!..I was afraid the balcony was locked. Fortunately, it opened and I barged in. The house smelled of fried apple peel. Completely different feelings in this rich house… Would I feel the same way if I went into a slum? Or would I feel patetic? I greeted them like the flirtatious Prince of the rich house.Trust my ear, when you see me climb Handan - Oh, I am doing sex with this guy, and he said he curtsy. I felt neither good nor bad… A giant television on a metallic coffee table in the Hall Leopard print seats Wallpapers decorated with white roses Buffet full of colorful drinks A giant black air conditioner Wall mounted antique turntable setWe tied up on a handmade rug with a burgundy pattern. Stars were falling on us from the bright stones of the chandelier above us. For the first time in the light, I had the opportunity to examine everyone. Handan He was medium-sized, fat, sparse red hair, with tiny eye sockets. His eyes looked like cigarette ash. He pulled a tight pair of shorts under a lion-patterned T-shirt. He had a Band-Aid on his heel. Her lips were purple and superimposed. His voice was”contralto". There was a” Hasbian " side. It was as if it had been cut from an old village photo and glued to this world. You know the story of the Red Chief's ransom: Guys kidnap a rich banker's kid. But the boy is such a pain in the ass that in the end, bandits, they pay the banker to get the boy back.That's what this girl had. He was the kind to love with gloves if he was a son…

Dilan She was a medium-sized brunette beauty. His shiny temples were dislocated. Her dark hair was falling out like a black stick of pasta. From him I smelled a clean aselbent. When you said his name, his black velvet eyes were wide open and greased. Her pink lips were healthy. The lip pit extending to his nose was as deep as a plain. She was a smart chick with a stupid look. His nose was upturned and bony. It was possible to see the bone from the skin of the nose. She wore a red dress that showed off her waist thin and spilled over her hips. Her well-groomed nails were transparent nail polish.

If you looked at him hard, a maddening smile would settle on his face. Maybe he was laughing to suppress his stress. His vervain-white teeth were as bright as candlelight. His voice was”soprano, " and his harrowing vibrations were sweet. You were afraid to touch the baby through the window because it would break. It was ringing like a crystal in the sun. Immediately after crying so as not to upset you, he looked like a woman laughing and wiping her eyes. It was a sharp and biting beauty. He noticed it when I took a picture of it with my eye and recorded it in hidden places in my memory. But he laughed again… It was locked in my eyes for ten seconds. All night long, I went crazy for him to do the same thing again.

One of the girls was sent by angels, the other was the devil's seventh daughter who ran away from home. I don't want to talk too bad, but, a homeless man who drank three bottles of wine could have slept with him when he was in an alcohol coma. I don't want to break your heart, but if you were left with him on a deserted island you'd jump in front of the Sharks and swim away. I don't want to overtax you, but, anyone who had sex with him would be sexually angry and asexual. If he slept with his math teacher, he'd be out of numbers. If he was a bodyguard, the teacher would be crippled. If he slept with a doctor, he'd quit the profession, if he slept with a cop, he'd shoot himself., if he'd stayed with the guard, he'd have agreed to life in prison. I don't want to exaggerate, but if he slept with a gorilla, he'd cool it off., if it had entered the zoo, it could have caused the shelter to move. If he fled the country to another continent, they would bomb the continent so that he would never be discovered again. If he went to Mars ... … They poured dry grass into a cloth and wrapped it in white paper. Handan burned the cylinder he made a cigar and handed it to me. When I pulled it out, I got red needles stuck in my throat. It was as bitter as a hard stove smoke. Handan Was Next. He drew a huge breath and blew a cloud of blue smoke. He was always shouting. His voice was so loud and he wanted everyone to hear him. Tropical fruits were on the table. He stopped drinking and spat the cherry core on the floor like a bloody tooth. I wasn't really interested in what he said. I was drinking cool drinks in colored glasses. I wasn't even interested in fruit. I Had My Eye On Dilan. His eyes were marijuana. He pulled his tongue out of the edge of his lip and drew half a moon in the air and pulled it back. With his sharp facial features, he was a real Amazon. Handan explained that he started a new book and solved telekinesis. He said he could influence people far away with his power of thought. It didn't even affect those nearby. With red lettering on the black cover, It said” techniques for developing spiritual powers." I felt like laughing when I saw the book come out of cross-border publications. 🙂At one point, he decked out and ran and hung out the window half to his waist! Only his butt in shorts could be seen “I am in love with love, as Zeki Moren said: I love it!.."he shouted.I was thinking about where it came from to Zeki Müren!…"Where is the strong man who will take this noble woman! HAAA, TELL ME! WHERE'S MY WHITE HORSE RICE?"he blared. "He's definitely not here!” I said to myself. 🙂 Returned to us. He was sweating like an appendage. He was the type to be a goalpost when he played ball in the street.He looked deep into my eyes: He had a side that humiliated people. It was as if he was looking from the opposite side of the binoculars to see them as small. I looked like a solid object.And then he started complaining about the hairdresser who cut his hair wrong. Filhakika's hair was cut like crazy girls in the neighborhood. Trust and I made eye contact. “You're getting the evil eye, girl, the evil eye!"he faded. He was comforted by taking refuge in this secluded port. I put a drink in Dilan's empty glass. He raised his head slowly and pinched his eyelashes. The heat wave in his eyes melted a grain of ice in my mouth. From the crease on the back of her dress, pink lacy underwear was visible. He had a provocative sexuality…*Handan suddenly turned on the TV. He changed channels so fast., one jumped to the other before it opened. He wanted everyone to see his satellite TV with hundreds of channels.So we like Güven ... "he has expensive TV"? We didn't have a TV in our house when we were kids. We were so poor that the word “poverty” came into the country after us. As he sleeps, he looks out the window and likens the rain to movie frames. I'd dream and just sleep…*I didn't see a clock on the wall; we didn't have the concept of time. In one canal, guests were like dogs barking into the opposite garden. The end of the argument bothered me that they hugged and came home. And at home, it was chaotic. I was in a good mood; I was singing a song I changed in a hoarse voice: When I say I want to tell a joke; Guven made a phone call with his little finger and scratched his ear hard. Dilan spoke little, listened with extreme interest. He was sensitive, like putting cream on a child's scrawny shoulder. Handan was playing with his phone. It was about shopping, jewelry, luxury cars, sex, and football. No one talked about poverty. Maybe this was the last place he would talk. I wish I'd been born fifty years ago and not seen today! Because that night, my head was like Ashura, and a Dostoevsky book flew out of my brain!*Everyone began to retreat to the rooms…We're alone with the trust; in a whisper; - I said I want Dilan. - He said My son Dilan had his period, or I'd have arranged it anyway. - Then we don't have to do it with Handan, even if we stick it in him, he won't feel it, chubby. He said If you don't sleep with Handan, you'll close our door in this house, you have all my hope. - Son, am I an English Kemal, what hope, what mission? Everything's gone, and I have to stick it in Handan? I said. And why aren't you going to bed?- My son is very close friends with my girlfriend. Then we'll break the plan. Brother, lay the pipe, please!I found the bedroom. My hand turned slowly on the knob of the door. As the Gladiators entering the arena said to the Great Emperor: “The man who will soon die greets you!” Every unwanted sex meant a little dying… He lay in his bed like a consul's dog. In the room, the Red Night Light was burning to death. The closed curtains were bindall red. The golden satin cover of the round bed was on the floor. ” You know how unworn underwear smells, and you smell like it, " he said. It turned and stuck to my lips. His mouth smelled of rotten straw. It got harder and harder; there were teeth marks all over me. He was eating me alive. His tongue went in and out of my mouth like a little snake. Enthusiasm is ecstatic and makes a person insensitive to the outside world. I patted his ass, like he was growing all the time.Her breasts and vagina were slowly bubbling like Well-fermented dough. I sucked your chest and wanted to split it. He was one of the infinite; he could not be cut off. Then it could be razor-sharp!For him, life was to go to bed, change men, and suffer. His excitement rose from his toes to his alarmed lips. Everything he touched seemed to warm up; he was obviously impressed with me.He took my dick in his mouth, and after a while he came out on top of me. It was narrower than I thought; I was rubbing it with sandpaper. It was an irritation of inverted hair. I just started sliding in. Fortunately, he came right away. Then I came too. I've always counted your reflex: 1-2-3… 19-20-21… The curtains of the room from the wind are like a cinema decor, he disappeared into the Red night and came back.Then I got up and washed. He was looking at me when I came in.I sat on the bed and I said,” Are we going to do it again?" “How is that a word, shame?" said. Right, it was a shame if he was asked, but it was good if he fucked up… I went quietly to the balcony; My Shadow did the same: Suffocating air approaching dawn Neighbor's noisy running air conditioner Television that no one watches Moneyed partisans with dung brains arguing on screen Baby crying from next door Primate who listened to arabesques in the park and broke bottles Spiritual fatigue collapsing on my shoulders Longing for my old blanketI put my back against the wall and fell to the floor. On the balcony, air conditioning water dripped where I was sitting. Listening to these life-shortening noises, I began to wait for the morning. I left the house this morning while everyone was asleep. I got on an empty bus and went to the back. My soul was crippled, I was humiliated. But I had a strange pleasure in pain.He was always going to live in that luxury house. The time will come, he will move into a skyscraper. And I was just a fingerprint on the window of that Skyscraper. I was a minimum-wage Nefer for a cleaning company.He had never suffered from misery; he did not know what absence was. He read books, but it was just licking pages with his eyes. Some think it's a fight book without reading Fight Club; others read the back of gum paper and discover the secrets of the universe.I was a baby rabbit that escaped from a snake. But the poison needed time to take over my body. Faced with this fact, the bodies of orphaned children cut me off. I could feel it, even my fingertips were aching with pain. And this action was against my team.*Flower dust from the garden The smell of food covering the apartment Ashy garbage barrel A gray cloud of flies resembling dust Dedicated to making you happy, more precious than first love That dirty stray animal that loves you more than your mother, waiting for you every day Feveran eden puberty cravings Here I was back in my friendly neighborhood, where I belonged. Actually, I didn't miss them, I missed myself in those years!.. A week later… Looking for trust: - Why haven't you called for how many days? - I'm the one who doesn't call when the phone doesn't ring. - One more word and I'll kill you!!! Don't even sneeze! - Why? - I know you slept with her! 3 if you entered the Oro*pu kids competition. I said You will. He walked away from the handset to avoid laughing. - Why 1. not? quoth. - Because Charlie Chaplin Is In Monte Carlo., He entered the Charlie Chaplin-like contest and finished 3rd. It has happened. I said. And I added: Trust ... I wish I hadn't returned your calls. I said, Maybe you'd come to see me, and I unplugged the phone.Human beings have beautiful periods of suckiness. All of us we tried. First barbecue with the Dragon, and then say, “my hair is on fire”! I chased a rich girl for one night!.. And it was my fault!So, which one tells me better: “If you can't figure out who the sucker is at the gambling table for the first half hour, that means you're the sucker!"the Rounders movie?He drove the royalties from his unwritten novel to the gambling table; and to himself, “When are you going to write a novel?"said the casino owner, “Here I am writing!” Dostoevsky, who can?“A woman presents herself as an idol to the powerless, an object to the strong.” he said and burned all his notes in his hotel room in Turin, Pavese, who committed suicide with 21 sleeping pills?Virginia Woolf, the mermaid who entered the River Ouse with stones in her pockets?Cut off the earlobe and put it in a napkin, Van Gogh who sent it to a fah thing in blood?“I was told I should be afraid of whites, but here all the crimes are committed by my race."the black artist who said" 2Pac? Tell me which one?..We're mad at them, but... aren't my brothers responsible? Doctrine: "when you're young, you think you can connect with anyone. And then you realize it's only gonna happen once in a lifetime.” – Before Sunset

#story #my story #author #funny #long reads #writers

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