#its more like self-training i guess? working on typing practice and getting some crash courses in general transcription again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

romioneficfest · 3 years

Text

Just a Snog

Title: Just a Snog

Prompt/Day: 7 - Anything Goes

Tumblr Name:

Rating: T

Brief Summary: 6th Year AU - Ron confronts Hermione immediately following his row with Ginny.

Triggers: language

***********

"Harry's snogged Cho Chang!" shouted Ginny, who sounded close to tears now. "And Hermione snogged Viktor Krum, it's only you who acts like it's something disgusting, Ron, and that's because you've got about as much experience as a twelve-year-old!"

And with that, she stormed away. Harry quickly let go of Ron; the look on his face was murderous. They both stood there, breathing heavily, until Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, appeared around the corner, which broke the tension.

"C'mon," said Harry, as the sound of Filch's shuffling feet reached their ears.

Ron tore off ahead of Harry, blinded by rage. He could faintly hear Harry calling after him but couldn’t be bothered to look back. How dare Ginny call him out like that? He was already in a shit mood from practice, and the last thing he wanted was to see his sister snogging his dorm-mate behind a bloody tapestry.

All he’d wanted was to go back up to Gryffindor tower, take a hot shower and go to bed. Sod his homework, he’d do it later. But now, he was too riled up to even think about settling down. Images of fucking Viktor Krum with his hands all over Hermione poured into his mind, and no matter how many times he tried to scrub the image away, it just came back ten times worse.

“Ron, wait up!” Harry panted behind him.

Ron stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of his voice as a blatant realization occurred. Harry hadn’t acted surprised when Ginny shared that bit of knowledge. Why wasn’t Harry surprised? He spun on his heel to face Harry, who’d stopped short of crashing into him.

“You knew.” Ron’s voice was low and murderous. A jealous rage simmered underneath his skin.

“Mate, you’ve got to calm down! You know as well as anyone how Ginny just says stuff when she’s angry,” Harry offered a weak explanation.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Ron wasn’t about to be deterred.

“About Cho? Well, yeah, I was there…”

“ABOUT HERMIONE, YOU TOSSER!” Ron roared.

“I—I heard them talking about it one night, but Hermione never said anything to me. I kind of suspected—”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“It wasn’t my information to tell! Why does it matter?”

Those were the absolute wrong words to say, and Harry knew it, judging by the look on his face. Ron stormed off again, taking out his anger on a small first year in the corridor as he stalked past, but that wasn’t enough to even remotely subdue the beast within. He needed to find Hermione. Enraged as he was, he needed to hear that she’d snogged Krum from her own mouth.

He felt completely sucker-punched by the whole thing, like she’d betrayed everything about their friendship. Not that he had any claim to her or anything. That wasn’t what he meant, but still, some part of him thought that maybe—

It doesn’t matter now, does it?

As he approached the Fat Lady, Ron growled the password at her, only to receive a snide remark about politeness and a rude stare in return. He bit back the urge to tell her off for fear she wouldn’t permit his entry. Ron barely waited for the portrait to open completely before tumbling in. His eyes peered around the common room, but it didn’t take long to see Hermione working at one of the small tables in the corner.

“Ron, don’t do anything stupid,” Harry managed to mutter behind him.

Unable to make any guarantees, Ron left Harry in his wake as he marched over to Hermione. When she noticed him, her face lit up, and a wide smile graced her lips. It was enough to lessen his anger by a tick, even though his resolve didn’t break.

“Did you snog Krum?” he blurted out.

Hermione’s warm smile immediately turned to a frown. “What?”

“Just answer the question, Hermione. Did you snog Krum?”

He noticed how she looked down and began fidgeting with her quill as her teeth rolled over her bottom lip.

“I—I wouldn’t call it a snog exactly,” she said slowly, unable to meet his eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ron snapped, the anger returning to its original state as she spoke in bloody riddles.

That got her attention as she met his gaze.

“Why do you care?” she asked, her tone defensive.

“Why do I care? Because I thought we were best friends! Best friends don’t keep bloody secrets from each other! So, you snogged a sodding international quidditch star in fourth year. Now what? Are you seeing anyone else in secret?”

Ron was sure his whole face was burning crimson at his ridiculous accusations, but he didn’t care. He noticed Hermione’s nostrils flare as she stood quickly, knocking the chair over in her haste. It was comical, really, and Ron had to bite back a laugh as she attempted to size up to him.

“How dare you! What goes on in my personal life is none of your business! Last I checked, I didn’t need to disclose a few chaste kisses with my Yule Ball date to you! And even if it was a snog, I wouldn’t have told you anyway!”

Ron opened his mouth to speak but paused as her words hit him like a freight train. A few chaste kisses. So...not a snog? Why would Ginny lie? Harry’s words popped into his head next: You know how she gets when she’s angry.

This didn’t completely diminish the anger coursing through his veins. He still felt betrayed by Hermione, but the anger now mixed with a soft flutter in his chest knowing she hadn’t snogged Krum. Or anyone else, he hoped. But Ron couldn’t let her see that his anger had subsided so quickly. Not when they were just getting in the thick of it. He still had a point to prove.

“Well, then I guess we aren’t as close as I thought! Since you could tell Ginny and Harry, but not me!” Ron knew it was a low blow, especially because Harry had admitted she hadn’t told him, but he couldn’t help it.

Hermione let out a disgruntled sigh as Ron watched her begin to pack up her things and throw them in her bag. Was it just him, or were her eyes becoming redder? After she closed the flap on her bag and hoisted it onto her shoulder, she shot Ron a scathing look.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I needed to give you a play-by-play of every moment in my life! Let me make it up to you right now. I was having a perfectly enjoyable evening, but now it’s been ruined by a red-headed prat, so I’m heading up to bed. Is that alright with you?”

No, it’s not bloody alright with me! Ron shouted internally.

There was still one more question weighing on the back of his mind that he was desperate for her to answer. She was halfway across the common room before Ron found his voice.

“So, since your type seems to be famous quidditch stars, why invite me to Slughorn’s party? Out of pity?” Ron scoffed.

Ron walked closer to the boy’s staircase as he spoke, not wanting to be left alone in front of the rest of the common room like he’d lost the argument. He couldn’t help shooting one more dig at Krum and hoped he hadn’t taken it too far as he caught Hermione freezing with one foot on the first step of the girl’s staircase. A thrill shot through him as he thought he’d done it now.

Hermione made an abrupt turn and doubled back towards him, her face scarlet. Her voice was low and barely discernible as she tried her best to get in his face, despite being several inches shorter than him.

“If you must know, it was never a pity invite, nor was it meant to be as friends. I was asking you to be my date, but apparently you’re too thick to—”

Ron had no idea what came over him. Maybe it was her proximity as she was lifted up on tiptoe to match his stature or the brief wisps of the perfume he’d given her last Christmas that invaded his nostrils at the slightest of movements, but when the word date crossed her lips, he lost all self-control. He pulled her into him as his lips crashed onto hers in a possessive manner.

He had no idea what he was doing, but that didn’t stop him. Her stiff demeanor melted away as Hermione folded into his arms. Ron determined he must be doing something right since she hadn’t pulled away or slapped him across the face. She was kissing him back!

All too soon, he was jolted out of his reverie by a faint sound of whooping and cheering that erupted throughout the common room. As he pulled away, Ron suddenly became shy. He’d just kissed his best friend in the middle of a row in front of half of Gryffindor house.

The dazed look on Hermione’s face faded away as she said, “Should we, um, talk about this somewhere more private?”

“Er, yeah,” Ron agreed.

Talk, snog, whatever. Ron was so elated that he didn’t care. The anger had been replaced by full joy, and despite the fact that he was still angry with his sister, he chose to let that go...for now.

#hpfic #Romione FicFest 2021 #romione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Rated T #CW:#CW: Language #Ace Safe #Queue up for the Dragon

129 notes · View notes

thenafics · 4 years

Text

Evil Author Day -- 2020

I saw this going around and I both wanted to feel included and have several WIPs that are probably not going to see the light of day for a long time. Most of these have titles already because I am incapable of writing a fic without having a title first~~~

1. Trouble in the Henhouse- AKA Red Hood joins the Suicide Squad

Amanda Waller thinks she might have made a mistake with the newest member to her team. She’s let the fox into the hen house, except her hens are insane criminals and her fox is a bat who also happens to be an insane criminal. The metaphor starts to deteriorate quickly, but the point remains, this choice might have been the worst one she’s made in a good long while. He is an accident waiting to happen and one of the most deadly assets she has ever managed to get her hands on. He doesn’t kill for money, like Deadshot, or hunger, like Croc, or even some deranged showmanship, like Harley does or Joker’s Daughter did. He kills when he thinks it’s right, because he thinks the target deserves it and that is the most terrifying thing to find in a highly trained killer she’s putting onto a team with a lot of the same type of people he has a habit of offing. Whoops.

2. Ghosts of our Better Natures

Tim can tell the instant that Scarecrow’s formula really starts to kick in. He sees the way Jason’s body language shifts, his muscles pulling his limbs in tighter, in spite of the restraints holding him down. Judging from the smirk just visible on Scarecrow’s sack-cloth face, he notices too. “Is my new formula finally kicking in?” His high, grating voice overlays over the sounds of Jason’s harsh breathing. “Looks like the big, bad drug lord has a bit of a tolerance. I doubt I’ll even need to use half as much on your little friend over there.” Scarecrow gestures broadly at Tim where he’s tied up against the wall and then claps his hands with fake glee. “I know what we’ll do! We’ll use all of the extra I’m saving on him for you!” Jason wrenches at his restraints, eyes wild behind his domino mask, but he remains uncharacteristically silent. He looks over at Tim and another wave of panic seems to crash over him. His struggles increase in strength to the point where Tim can hear the groaning of the rusty bolts holding Jason down.

3. Rafters for Roustabouts- JayRoy based on a piece of fanart I saw and can no longer find

Roy remembers when Jason was just a skinny little twig of a thing trailing after Nightwing with his spindly limbs and closed off smiles. The first time they’d met, Jason had looked up at him and blushed so hard that Roy was a little worried he might pass out from all the blood rushing to his head. Jason was in the Tower pretty infrequently, but any time he was there, Roy could be sure to find him either abandoning Dick for Donna (who he had immediately latched onto, like a baby bird imprinting on what it thinks is its mother) or acting as Roy’s shadow. Roy could often tell when Jason was visiting well before Dick told him because of the glimpses of inky black hair he would catch out of the corner of his eye. Eventually Roy got tired of waiting for Jason to stop being so shy. “Hey, Jason, I know you’ve got that whole stealth thing going for you, but it’s much easier to make friends if you just talk to people.” There was a muted thump and a little yelp as Jason fell down from the rafter he’d been perched on. Roy made his way over to him and crouched down to look more closely at Jason. The younger boy was blushing furiously and had his hands pressed firmly over his eyes, almost as if he thought if he couldn’t see Roy, Roy might not see him. Roy let out a little huff of laughter. “You’re just a little shy, aren’t you Jaybird?” Jason just burrowed further into his hands and seemed ready to just wait until Roy left so that he could tend to his bruised pride and tailbone.

4. Chapter 2 of Release of Liability- My very self indulgent Dresden Files fusion au that nobody asked for or wanted. *Knowledge of the Dresden Files universe up to like, book one/two is v. helpful*

Wayne manor is steeped in the type of magic that can make a place a living thing. This is the home of one of the most powerful wizards in America and has been the home of an incredibly powerful magical family for centuries. There’s history in these walls beyond what the outside world will ever know. All of the wall fixtures are old fashioned gas lamps retrofitted with lightbulbs. It’s a darker paint job and some cobwebs away from being the house from the Addam’s family.

Bruce Wayne himself leads me further into the house and to what I assume must be his office. An older man appears almost the exact moment we sit down and offers tea in a clipped British accent. He disappears as silently as he appeared and rematerializes just moments later carrying a tray laden with tea and those fancy little sandwiches they always show on the BBC. Wayne thanks him and dismisses him with a soft “Thank you,” before the man is gone again.

“So, Mr.Dresden, I hear you’re good at finding lost things.”

“I tend to be. Though I have to wonder what use a practitioner of your caliber could have for my services. With all of Gotham at your disposal.”

“The situation requires a somewhat delicate approach.” I can’t help but snort in response. Delicate and I go together like oil and water. I am not who anyone should call for delicate, subtle, or any synonyms of that ilk. Wayne gives a wry smile and little laugh of his own.

“I misspoke. Not delicate, detached. I am well known to Gotham. You are not. I’ve heard wildcard is somewhat your area of expertise.”

“I’m not going to take offense at that because it’s true. What’s missing?”

Bruce Wayne fixes me with a paralyzing gaze and speaks two words that let me know this is going to be one of those cases that sticks with me.

“My son.”

Bruce Wayne is famous for several things in the magical community. His childhood trauma of witnessing his parents’ murder would make a YA author weep and left him the sole heir to one of America’s most notable magical lineages. That alone made him a Name, capital letter intended, in the world of the mystical. He also worked hard to actually become one of the most influential wizards in America and run Gotham with an iron fist. The most notable thing about Bruce Wayne however, is not either of those. It is his incredible and almost suspicious number of extremely powerful adopted children. A disturbing number of which share his jet black hair and blue eyes. I hope it’s just a weird narcissistic rich person thing.

He is well known to be very protective of his bevy of apprentices. To the point where he’d actually knocked out another wizard with a vicious right hook for making an untoward comment about his eldest son. It was a glorious day and I am thankful to have been within enough distance of the scene to see it go down. I am also thankful to have been far enough away that his fury didn’t turn to me. If something has happened to one of his beloved children, I have no doubts that Mr. Wayne will do whatever is necessary to save them. After the death of his second apprentice he’d practically torn apart the world at its seams in his grief.

5. Windows for Bricks-

“I’m here to pick up Damian. I guess I’m one of his emergency contacts and the lady on the phone said to sign in here before I could take him home.” Jason says to the nurse by the front of the sterile smelling room.

“Oh, are you,” she looks down at her computer screen “Jason Head?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” Jason shifts uncomfortably.

“And you are his … “

“Brother. Same mom.”

“I see. We get Damian in here a lot so I see the resemblance. You have the same eyes”

6. Dialogue Snippet- Dick and Steph on the topic of ass envy

“He’s just jealous of my ass.”

“Yeah, no.”

“What do you mean no?” Dick sounds affronted.

“Have you seen his ass?,” Steph gestures expansively in the shape of an ass. A woman at the next table over glares. “Jay has no reason to be jealous Dick.”

“What.”

“And those thighs… unf.” The lady the next table over glares harder at the noise Steph makes.

“Ohmygod,” Dick buries his head in his hands. “Please stop.”

“What? I'm just saying, he's got no reason to be jealous when the dude is bammin slammin bootylicious”

“I'm pretending I don't know you. Can Tim take you back already?”

“Fine. But take a peek next time you and your ass feel so high and mighty”

7. Innocence for Sinners- JayDick prawn. I wrote this at the request of a friend. Very much not what I usually write, kind of nervous about posting it

*warning for Mature rating*

When he thinks about it, of course it makes sense to Dick that Jason is a virgin. He died before he’d even turned eighteen and spent a few years after that being either brain dead or criminally insane. It was really only in the past three or so years that Jason could be counted among the semi-rational members of the population and he had been so busy during that time span that there was no earthly way he had done anything. Still, Dick couldn’t help but be a little surprised when Jason pushes away from their kiss, while Dick’s hand rubs gentle circles over his crotch, and gasps out “No one’s ever touched me like that before.”

Dick pauses and pulls back fully, his weight between Jason’s spread legs still pinning the younger man to the bed.

“What do you mean Jason?,” he asks, seeking verbal confirmation for his suspicions. Jason blushes prettily and turns his head to one side, as if to escape the weight of Dick’s eyes. Dick reaches out and turns Jason’s face back towards him. His eyes trace the delicate flush that brings out the freckles across the bridge of Jason’s nose and blown out pupils in sea green eyes.

“Jason, are you a virgin?Am I going to be your first?” Jason blushes even further at the questions and nods mutely. Dick feels a rush of possessiveness pass through him at the idea of brash, rebellious, Jason being his. It only makes sense, after all, Jason had spent years wearing Dick’s colors and a month or so trying on the Nightwing suit for size. Of course Jason should be his in some other way. Dick leans back forward and kisses up Jason’s neck, ending up right by his ear.

“I’m going to ruin you for anybody else, little wing.” Jason shudders and lets out a soft moan as Dick scrapes his teeth against his neck in punctuation.

“Please,” Jason breathes out. Dick growls quietly and surges up to kiss Jason. He weaves his fingers through the curls of Jason’s hair and pulls slightly. Immediately, Jason gasps into Dick’s mouth and arches his back up off the bed. Dick chuckles and pulls harder. He is rewarded with a moan and a shudder from Jason.

“You like that Jaybird? When I pull your hair?” Dick laughs against Jason’s mouth when Jason nods with downcast eyes. “Let’s find out what else you like.”

Dick leaves one hand in Jason’s hair and worms the other up under Jason’s shirt, brushing over the hard lines of muscle and scar tissue. He thumbs over one of Jason’s nipples gently and feels a slight shudder run through Jason’s body. Taking that as a positive sign, he rolls it between his index finger and thumb. Jason gasps and tosses his head back, breaking the kiss.

“Dick,” he gasps out, “That feels so, ah, good.” Dick smirks and rolls the nipple again “Aaaaaaah.” Dick pulls his other hand from Jason’s hair and starts using it to push Jason’s shirt up while he brings his mouth down to Jason’s stomach, kissing over the places where his hands had traced over.

“Wait, Dick!,” Jason calls out, panting for breath. Dick looks up at Jason’s flushed face. “I… I have a lot of scars there. Some of them might not be ones that you want to see…” Jason trails off towards the end of his sentence and avoids eye contact with Dick until Dick uses his free hand to gently pull Jason to face him. Dick can see in this flustered and blushing Jason the same boy who had been so shyly admiring of him all those years ago. This shy virginal Jason is far more little red riding hood than the big bad wolf that the Red Hood pretends to be.

“I want all of you Jason. All of you.” Dick says softly. He gently pulls the shirt all the way off of Jason, manipulating the younger man’s arms so that he can remove it. Once the shirt is off, he kisses up Jason’s chest to the top of the Y-shaped scar that stretches from collarbone to collarbone and bisects his body from mid-chest to belly button. Dick mouths gently across the raised tissue and grinds his hips down against Jason’s. Jason can only gasp wordlessly in response as Dick uses his right hand to trace down and past the long tail of the scar to the top of Jason’s jeans. He pops the button and undoes the fly with one hand. When he starts to shimmy Jason’s jeans and boxers down, Jason lifts his hips and practically whines. Dick slides down Jason’s body and sits up in order to pull the pants off all the way before settling himself back between his legs.

“Your thighs are gorgeous.” Dick doesn’t even try to hold back a moan at all the exposed skin before him, some spots criss-crossed with thin lines left from slashes and stab wounds or spotted with starbursts from gunshots. He takes a moment to appreciate the way Jason’s waist cuts in and then flares out to almost feminine hips and thick, muscular thighs. Dick slides his hands under the small of Jason’s back and inches them down to the top of Jason’s ass.

“Really? You like them?” Jason asks, blushing.

“Babe, I love them. It should be against the law for you to wear pants. It’s practically a crime to keep all this hidden under your jeans.” Dick kneads at the soft flesh of Jason’s ass.

“Says the one who’s all covered up,” Jason gasps out. There’s Dick’s Jason, blushing and innocent, but still talking back.

“Let’s fix that then,” Dick chuckles and slowly removes his hands, giving one last squeeze on his way. Dick peels off his t-shirt, deliberately twisting his body and putting on a show for Jason who watches with rapt attention. Dick smiles softly at the awestruck look on Jason’s face before making quick work of the clasps on his pants and shimmying out of them completely. Dick bends down and starts to kiss up Jason’s left leg, starting at his calves and working up to his thighs. Once he gets to the sensitive skin on Jason’s inner thighs, he takes his time pressing open mouthed kisses to the skin there. Dick scrapes his teeth against the skin as he pulls away from a kiss about halfway up Jason’s thigh and feels the strong muscles underneath tremble. Smirking, he repeats the action and looks up to watch Jason. The younger vigilante is struggling to hold his composure, but Dick wants to watch him fall apart completely. So he lowers his mouth back down to Jason’s thighs and bites down. At that, Jason arches off the bed hard and lets out the loudest moan Dick has heard from him so far.

8. Runneth Over and all that Jazz- incomplete work for day 7 of Omega Jason Todd Week -Lactation kink au heavily inspired by @whumpbby and @daemoninwhiteround2 and all their stuff. A little R rated

If it weren’t for his chest, Jason would be nearly impossible to recognise as an omega. He’s taller and more muscular than most omegas so with his deep voice, no one would ever guess. If it weren’t for his body’s absolute betrayal. Jason, like pretty much all adult omegas, produces milk. It’s meant to help reinforce pack bonds and keep pups adopted into a pack fed. That’s not the problem, that part of it is manageable with absorbent pads in shirts and semi-regular use of a breast pump. It sucks, but it’s not the problem. The problem is that Jason’s pack bonds are weak, so his body will let down and start producing milk on a hair trigger. He’s peak fertile age and tangentially part of a mostly alpha pack, but not bonded well enough to balance his hormones, so his body has decided to try and tempt his pack into bonds with milk.

It’s a nuisance. He hears Bruce’s voice on the radio and a little dribble of milk escapes. Dick and Tim get into an argument and he can feel his breasts swelling with more milk. Cass gets injured and he ends up having to sneak off to change his shirt when she cuddles up to him for comfort. He saw Damian cry once and that was enough to get him leaking like a fountain and avoiding the bats for a few days. He knows at least one of them can probably smell the milk on him, but they have the good graces not to mention it so long as he doesn’t.

So Jason distances himself from the pack. He figures if he doesn’t see them, his body won’t decide to go into hormone overdrive. Except it just ends up compounding the problem. More time away from the pack means even weaker pack bonds, which ends up kicking his hormones into even higher gear than they would have been. Soon, Jason’s having to empty his milk every day, then twice a day, then eventually he has to break in the middle of patrol to empty his breasts so they aren’t incredibly sore as he’s flipping around rooftops. He switches from plain absorbent undershirts to nursing undershirts in all black so that if he leaks it won’t show. It’s gotten way out of hand but the only way to fix it is to either break his pack bonds entirely, which might make it worse, or go to the pack and suffer through some potentially very embarrassing bonding.

He shudders at the thought of his pack finally drinking from him. The vulnerability it would bring stirs up something like panic in his stomach mixed equally with want. Letting them know that he can be manipulated just because of a biological response would put him at a huge disadvantage. If they knew he could be made to let down and go into a pheromone drenched haze with some carefully chosen vocalizations they could use it to their advantage when Jason inevitably pisses one of them off. Still, something has to be done, his chest hurts so much that when he got hit there on patrol, he almost blacked out.

He decides to go to Tim first. The slightly younger man is the easiest for Jason to get along with, and despite his tendency for general sneakery, he has enough respect for what Jason does that he probably won’t use it against him too much. It’s a risk, but the potential for relief from the pain of his swollen nipples and frequent breast pump use are enough to take it. Tim is practical and doesn’t seem like the type to get physically aggressive. Even if he does, his small stature means that Jason should be able to escape. Hopefully he won’t be weird about it. Fingers crossed.

Jason knocks on the door of Tim’s apartment, about an hour before patrol typically starts. Tim answers the door looking sleep deprived as always with a mug of coffee in one hand. Jason gives him a sheepish smile and a half hearted wave, after which Tim gestures him into the apartment, one eyebrow raised in question. He shuts and locks the door behind him.

“Hi Jason. It’s been awhile. What are you doing here?” Just the sound of Tim’s voice is making his chest swell a little.

“Can’t I just come visit?”

“Of course you can, you know I like your company. You just usually … don’t. So… ”

Tim pins Jason in place with his calculating stare as he waits for a response. The silence is incredibly awkward for Jason because every second that passes he can feel the slight swelling inch closer and closer to potential leakage. He finally breaks when he feels a small dribble of milk start to leak from one nipple.

“I need your help.”

“A case?”

“No… “ Jason trails off, still unsure.

“Are you okay Jason?” Tim sets his coffee down and sits next to Jason on the couch. Their arms brush and Jason fucking gushes. If Tim couldn’t smell the milk on him before, he sure as hell can now if the way he sniffs the air is any indication.

“What’s wrong Jay? Why are you, umm, … “

“Leaking?”

Tim nods, nostrils flaring as a blush steals across his face.

“I’m letting down at the drop of a hat right now. I’m overproducing so much that I have to stop in the middle of patrols to pump. It hurts real bad.” Jason couldn't stop the whine from leaking into his tone if he tried. Tim unconsciously responds with a swell of alpha scent. The pheromones set Jason off again and he gasps as he involuntarily lets even more milk escape.

“Jason,” Tim’s voice is practically a whisper. “How can I help?” Jason takes a moment to steady himself under the force of Tim’s gaze, closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to see his reaction to the answer.

“ I need you to drink enough to solidify our pack bond.”

Tim makes an interested little noise in the back of his throat and places one delicate hand over Jason’s on his lap. He gives a gentle squeeze

“Are you making enough to do it in one go?”

“Were you even paying attention? Yes. I’m producing enough for the whole pack.”

“Why me? If you go off pack hierarchy aren’t you supposed to go to Bruce? Even if you don’t trust Bruce, you could have gone to Dick or Barbara.”

“If you’re not willing, I won’t pressure you.” Jason’s voice is flat as he starts to stand, but he’s stopped by Tim’s suddenly much stronger grip pulling him back to the couch.

“I never said that. I just want to know why you chose me before I potentially upset pack structure.”

“ ‘M more comfortable,” Jason mumbles, avoiding eye contact. “Dick’s too clingy and Babs still thinks I’m crazy most of the time. You’re … nice to me. Helpful.”

“You’re nice to me too Jason. We take care of each other.”

An unfamiliar throaty purr starts up in the back of Jason’s throat as Tim gently presses his shoulders back into the couch. He pushes up Jason’s shirt, making sure to be extra careful right around the chest area. An accidental brush from the back of his hand as he pulls the shirt off causes a whimper to interrupt Jason’s purring. Tim shushes him gently as he sets the shirt to the side in a crumpled ball. Jason glares at him until Tim sighs and folds the shirt semi-neatly. He rearranges himself until he’s draped halfway over Jason’s lap, face centimeters from touching Jason’s chest. Tim stares unashamedly at the plump flesh where he can see the wetness where milk has already escaped.

#thenafics #thenawrites #writing prompt #wip #wips #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #bruce wayne #dick grayson #Stephanie Brown #Damian Wayne #alternate universe #dresden files #harry dresden #roy harper #batfam #evil author day #evil author day 2020

61 notes · View notes

meshugana1 · 6 years

Note

I know it's kinda early for Halloween asks (by about 2 days until October) but here's a kinda Halloween themed ask for ya. It involves Kijo and though I kinda find her as my favourite I'll get to the point... It's Hallows' Eve and maybe for this one night a year Kijo could turn a nerdy 5 foot 11 guy with a 9 inch penis dressed up as a wizard or knight gets turned into a slutty short curvy goblin girl with big curves on the rear, hips, ass, breasts and lips.

There was a scream, then a crash. The knife tumbled into a patch of weeds, and the assailant ran. The boy and the woman dusted each other off and stood, alone in the park. “Good thing you came along when you did, Kid. That crazy guy was going to shiv me,” Kijo said. It wasn’t wholly uncommon. Her…particular brand of massage tended to make people a little miffed. She wasn’t unprepared for such encounters however, she was very well practiced in Karate. There were no belts when she finished her training, but she was far above red belt status. Still, she had to appreciate the humor in the situation. A betitted former customer holder her at knifepoint, then a brave young knight rescued her. “I’m sorry about your costume, you seemed to put in quite a bit of effort on it.” “It’s no problem at all, I mean I did but it’s okay. Honestly, I can’t believe I just did that. I’ve never done anything like that before. Just barreling into somebody? I guess the costume is rubbing off on me,” Melvin said. It was the time of year for escapism, for fantasies to run wild and for all reservations to disappear. Melvin certainly had a lot of them, but none involved actually stopping an assault in progress. He was barely an adult, barely out of high school, bullying and isolation still fresh in his mind. He loved Halloween, the one time of year he didn’t have to be himself. But even with that freedom, he still couldn’t bring himself to be who he really wanted to be. “I’m sorry, my problems ended up ruining your holiday,” Kijo said. “It’s ok, really! I was just planning on a dumb party. It would’ve been a disaster anyway, I’m not the party type, as I’m sure you can tell,” Melvin said. Kijo took a good look at the boy. Pasty, scrawny, comely enough. His plastic and foam knight armor was fragmented and broken beyond repair. But her eyes could see much more than that. Her profession afforded her countless opportunities to see the human form. There were few she wouldn’t call beautiful. This boy’s wasn’t all he seemed. His hips were more prominent than most his age, and it wasn’t from fat. That came from exercise, but the rest of his lithe body was forsaken in that regard. His waist was tiny, adherence to a strict diet. This boy had potential. “I don’t have much in the way of money, but I’d love to repay you. How about a massage?”

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, I don’t need a reward or anything,” a stripped Melvin said. He wasn’t sure just how he’d let himself be dragged here. He hated it, but he had never been touched by a woman before. Too many nerves, too much self-doubt. But now he was half-naked and a woman was offering to touch him everywhere. His hands worked furiously to cover his pitched tent. “I want to, young man. I’m not in the habit of leaving debts unpaid. Besides, I have a good feeling that you’re going to find this to be transformative,” Kijo said. Her hands lathered in a very rarely used blend of lotions. Her red painted nail turned on a playlist of smooth jazz music. “Just relax, let me repay your kindness,” Kijo said. She placed her hands on his chest, gently guiding him to her table. The lights were low, candles were lit, and the music moved Melvin to Kijo’s rhythm.

Melvin’s breath was erratic and tense as Kijo’s hands tread along his skin. His eyes were pinched shut, a part of him terrified that this was all a dream and at any moment would become a nightmare. His hands still covered the front of his trousers, his aching cock harder than its ever been. But Kijo grabbed his arms, smiling. “Don’t worry, I’ve seen a barrel of pickles in my day kid.” She pulled the hands away, and a sound of true shock escaped her lips. “Goodness! I had no idea you were…well, so well endowed,” Kijo said. Melvin’s cheeks shifted to crimson. He didn’t hate his cock, but to him, it always seemed so out of place on his skinny frame. Kijo grabbed his pants, and in a single practiced motion tugged them free. Kijo smirked, Melvin seemed to prefer going commando in his costume. “This may warrant some special attention later,” she said. Melvin turned even redder, in more than one place. He had to keep his eyes closed, no matter what. This was already the closest to sex he had ever imagined he’d get. It didn’t help at all that the dress she wore was incredibly low cut and hugger her hips so tightly he could see the lining of her thong. As long as he kept his eyes closed, this wouldn’t end in humiliation and a stained dress.

Her hands were incredible, Melvin thought. So soft, so tender. They wandered over every inch of his body, save his cock. He indeed was grateful for this. He was always so nervous and filled with tension. As Kijo’s hands moved about him all that disappeared. He felt lighter, calmer, even somehow happier. Melvin lost all sense of time under Kijo’s care. For all he knew it was Christman time. She also worked his face and ears into a state of total relaxation. Then when she lowered her hands to his ass, and pressed her lips to his, he had no idea how he managed to hold back. “Almost done, but I think one more part of you needs a little attention,” Kijo said, breaking the kiss. Even as her hands slid down his sides they continued their manipulations. Kijo’s hand gripped Melvin’s puffed-up cock, then for the first time in his life, Melvin felt the moist tongue of a woman wrapped around his dick. Melvin gasped cutely, but he held his tongue. He wasn’t going to lose an opportunity like this. He wasn’t much for bragging, but he was still impressed that Kijo was able to take his full length into her mouth. The pleasure he felt was so intense he could feel it tingle in his fingertips. He began to squirm on the table, his movements feeling different that he thought they should. He dragged in some places where he shouldn’t have, and didn’t even touch the table in others. But the mouth working his cock begged all his attention and he gripped the table with arms shorter than he remembered as a thunderous climax began growing inside him.

Kijo continued to sink down on Melvin’s cock. Each drag felt shorter and shorter to Melvin, but the nuke of pleasure descending inside him was obliterating his senses. Then his mind and body went over the edge when he felt Kijo’s tongue penetrate his body. His back arched and his eyes flew open, only to be obscured by silver hairs. His scream of ecstasy was high and unquestioningly adorable. “OH MY GOD!!” Melvin screamed. He panted, finally feeling more weight on his chest than ever before. Kijo lifted her head and licked the sweet nectar from her lips. “Not bad, a little outside my usual tastes, but it is the season after all. Would you like to see?” Kijo said. Melvin rubbed his throat as Kijo washed her hands and fetched an ornate hand mirror and handed it to him. Melvin reached out and saw his hand through silver strands, his green-skinned hand. He lunged for the mirror, upsetting his seat on the table. His motion tumbled him off, and he fell a foot further than he was used to. He landed on his hands and knees, and an enormous weight on his chest pulled him further to the ground. He saw breasts dangling from his chest, pale green tits, big ones. He looked up and met the mirror, and the face inside.

He was beautiful. Really beautiful. He had a cute, sexy face with pointed ears. His teeth were a little bit sharper, and jutted from the bottom of his mouth. His hair was long enough to brush his shoulders, but wild and unkempt. He abandoned the mirror and explored himself. His hips were outrageous, his waist was tiny, and he was so short he was barely above Kijo’s belt line. His fingernails were short but pointed. Somehow, he became some kind of orc, or a troll or— “A goblin, in case you were wondering.” “What?” Melvin said. “A goblin, I turned you into a goblin-girl. You’re welcome.” “But, I didn’t ask for this.” “Most people don’t. But it was because of me your costume was ruined, so I gave you another one.” “But—” “Listen, I have been a masseuse a long time. And you aren’t the first person to have a wild time under my care. I could tell there was something in you, even if you didn’t know it yet. But I think you do. I’m a good judge of character after all. Now you can go to that party of yours and really live it up for the first time in your life. And when you’re finished, just come back to the parlor and I’ll fix your ears and your teeth and that lovely skin of yours. I’ll even turn you back into a boy, if that’s what you really want, of course.” Melvin grabbed the mirror again and looked at his face. It was nothing like his old one. It didn’t have his acne, or the scar from his boy-scout days by his chin. He didn’t need his glasses to see anymore, and everything was cute looking. But as he looked, all he could see was him. Rubbing a solitary tear from his eye, he said: “I’d like that very much, thank you.” He tried to embrace Kijo, but his chest made that a problem. They separated and shared a friendly chuckle. Kijo located a uniform that a former new employ had…damaged after an argument with the Madam. It was in tatters, but Melvin said that the tattered look helped fit the primitive motif. Kijo waved as Melvina made her way into the world, strutting her hips as she always practiced in secret.

The End. Hope Y’all like it!

#Halloween #male to female #MTF #extraspecies tf #goblin tf #breast expansion #ass expansion #request #Kijo

19 notes · View notes

allenmendezsr · 4 years

Text

Survival MD Vsl Dominates The Survival Niche!

New Post has been published on https://autotraffixpro.app/allenmendezsr/survival-md-vsl-dominates-the-survival-niche/

Survival MD Vsl Dominates The Survival Niche!

Buy Now

As the new virus spreads more and more each day…

There is no short answer to this question,

But here’s what we know by now,

Confirmed cases almost doubled in South Korea, in less than 24 hours,

While in China, the method of counting the patients changed again,

We can safely assume that what we are hearing on the news,

It’s far from the real numbers.

I’m afraid that we are deliberately deceived into thinking we are safe…

While in reality, the world is fighting a new invisible enemy,

Of which we know too little…

We believed that one infected individual can spread the new virus, to 2, maybe 3 other people,

Now they are saying the real number is closer to 11…

If we had to face the same numbers as China our expensive health system could collapse pretty easy,

They are showing videos of people being cured and leaving the hospitals,

Can you guess why?

It’s so you can feel safe and don’t rush to your drug store and buy everything you can put your hands on.

You see, it’s not just the virus that can kill us,

If China’s import will get shoot down,

The USA can run out of …mostly everything,

As most of the stuff we use it’s made there…

This includes everything from drugs to phones to hygiene products,

In such cases the virus itself may not be the real killer, but our own desperation, the old, the sick and the children will suffer first,

Then a crisis will naturally follow…

If SHTF, and you have no available drugs or medical supplies, a simple scratch can kill you.

And that’s a fact, it turns out that in a real crisis regardless of its origin, the real killer is something else…

Remember that China is a socialist country that pushes dirt under the carpet most of the time,

Luckily, someone thought about it before and prepared for just this type of scenario,

You may not believe it…

But some Countries manage to keep their people healthy with little to no resources…

Third world Countries are battling viruses and diseases with way less resources than us…

And somehow, they manage to keep their people healthy,

As I said, someone thought about it,

And dedicated their work to build a manual,

For exactly this type of Crisis…

It’s the only complete medical survival guide for the laymen… showing you how to treat yourself and your loved ones in an emergency when doctors, pharmacies and hospitals are shut down.

It’s a simple and straight forward, step-by-step program. And you don’t need any medical training… plus: there’s no need for a medical professional to look over your shoulder.

And here’s the best part: You won’t need to spend a bucket load of cash or waste weeks poring over hundreds of pages either… Because there are no weird medical terms to learn! It’s so easy, a 12 year old can understand it.

I’m not promising you will treat every illness on the planet because you won’t have to… This revolutionary program shows you how to prevent and even treat the deadliest of diseases you’ll be faced with during a major crisis.

All you have to do is go through this program for 10 minutes a day for the next 10 days. And you’ll know more about medical survival than any 1st world doctor… who’s trained to always rely on expensive and modern equipment.

Here’s just a glimpse of what you’ll find inside this medical emergency crash course…

Quickly and accurately diagnose any medical condition using the TeCaMoLo principle. That way you’ll know exactly what problem you have to treat. This will save you hours of agony and eventually your life. (3rd world countries doctors use this protocol and it has never been revealed to the American public before).

Dr. Scurtu shows you what drugs and medical supplies are vital to stock-pile… You don’t need to waste your money on expensive brands. You’ll discover what meds cover a large range of diseases… are easy to administer and act in the shortest time possible.

Plus you’ll discover which meds rob your body from healing itself. Fact is, they do more harm than good unless you know how and when to administer them.

You’ll learn how to put together a REAL Medical First Aid Kit. It’s different than anything sold in stores and it includes 9 life-saving items you absolutely need to toss in your bag.

You’ll discover the top 5 most likely causes of death you’ll be faced with in the aftermath of a crisis. It may sound weird… But focusing on these, means you’ll ward off 80% of the illnesses! So there’s no need to fill your brain with medical problems that have a 1 in a million chance of happening.

And that’s not all…Inside “Survival MD.” you’ll find the worst medical mistakes you can do in a crisis. Like…

Do you know what you should never do if you’re stabbed? People in Romania struggle with this horrifying scenarios every day because of the high crime rate. There are two key procedures to avoid bleeding to death or even getting an infection. (It took Radu 9 years of medical school to figure this one out).

And do you know why you should never use a plastic bag or wet bandage to cover up a wound? In fact, doing it increases your risk of infection and even death!

Plus, and this is my favorite part of the package… You get inside tips and tricks even regular Joe can put into practice…

You’ll learn how to put a dislocated shoulder back in its place just like professionals do. And it’s easier than you think!

And how to master a 100% safe procedure that might cause some 1st world doctors to shake their heads… It’s considered a “forbidden medical secret” that can save you from a horrible death when disaster strikes. (And most people pay hundreds of dollars for it when going to the hospital.)

You’ll also find out how and where to get a few months’ worth of prescription drugs. A little known secret for getting behind the counter drugs without a prescription.

And that’s just a taste of what’s inside…

“Survival MD” shows you how to stay alive until professional help will be available again… Even if it takes months… And you won’t find these secrets on the internet or anywhere in a medical library.

“Survival MD.” isn’t just another guide… It’s a collection of true, “proven to work” medical techniques taken from real life situations.

After you go through the material you’ll become a valuable resource not only for your family and friends…These skills will make you a priceless asset to your community when medical services are gone! Most people think all heroes carry guns… Yet it’s those helping others and saving lives who are the real heroes of our country.

We’re used to going to the doctor whenever we get a little cough, right? Or go to an emergency room for something more serious! But what if it’s all gone… doctors, ambulances, emergency rooms? You’re on your own in any kind of crisis.

It could take weeks or months until medical care will be available again. And you can’t wait until disaster pounds on your door to prepare… some disasters happen in a heartbeat without any warning at all. And this medical knowledge is the ultimate “tool” you can use to barter for anything! You’ll have the upper-hand on anyone.

So let me ask you a question…

Is your health, and the health of your family the most important thing in life? More important than all the food, water and gold you could get your hands on?

Your life and the life of your family is priceless… So how much is it worth to you to know your family’s healthy no matter what? To have the peace of mind knowing that whatever comes your way you’ll stay strong, healthy and protected?

This program is the missing piece of the puzzle to achieve full self-reliance… it’s the only way to make sure you and your family won’t cross paths with deadly medical problems. So ask yourself… how much is this worth to you?

Most medical programs and training courses sell for hundreds, even thousands of dollars. And all the complex terminology and medical mumbo-jumbo is just a waste of time.

“Survival M.D.” contains REAL information about serious conditions you’re 100% guaranteed to see in a crisis. And it’s so easy to follow anyone can understand it. This program gives you the power to experience life-saving techniques for yourself.

Radu said this material is worth at least $1000. What we managed to put together has never been done before. Even so… most people won’t afford $1000. And it’s important to both of us to make this available to as many people as possible…

Everyone who went through this must-have health-bible says we should sell it for at least $100. But I don’t want you to pay $100… Not even $50… As I already said… everyone deserves to know these medical secrets.

So… that’s why I’m willing to offer you direct access to this lifesaving information for just $37… Click the “Add to Cart” button below and you’ll get your copy of “Survival M.D.” for just $37… that’s less than a night at the movies or a nice bottle of wine.

And this information is priceless. The more people have this information today…the better we’ll all be. This program isn’t only useful in a disaster or crisis situation. A lot of this information could save your life in many other situations.

And there’s more… If you get Survival M.D. right now you’ll instantly get access to the members’ area where you can ask me anything and you’ll also get a special report on “How to survive without prescription medicine”.

In a crisis one of the worst things that can happen is being without your medication. It can lead to health complications, pain or even death. And if you, or someone you love, suffers from a chronic condition requiring medication…this exclusive report is exactly what you need. It shows you how to stay perfectly safe and well using alternative remedies and techniques. And you’ll know how to live a healthier, safer and self-reliant life in any crisis when prescription meds aren’t available.

This special report isn’t available at any bookstore or anywhere else online. And you get it absolutely free when you get “Survival MD” right now.

But wait… Order now and you will get our new PRACTICAL PANDEMIC PREPAREDNESS or “How To Survive When Deadly Viruses Infect Millions” Absolutely FREE

Today the world is facing a big challenge, one that can have devastating effects on each and every one of us…

I’m talking about the new China virus outbreak, that affected most parts of the world by now.

With this you will learn how to protect yourself against it, and much more.

You will learn how to stay safe from things like Ebola, or how Pandemic Affects the Big Cities, and how to survive the total quarantine. Also, you will learn about the Gas Mask and how You can make your own face mask.

I’m so confident you’ll be amazed by “Survival MD” that I’m willing to put my money where my mouth is… Get “Survival MD” today and I’ll give you a “60 days no questions asked money back guarantee”.

Just go through the program… And I guarantee you’ll be thrilled. What you have here is a breakthrough in self-reliance… helping millions of patriots like me and you to outlive deadly diseases when disaster strikes.

If for any reason at all you want to get your money back you have 60 days to make the decision. Simply send me a quick email and I’ll give you your money back ASAP.

You take absolutely no risk…All you need to do is click the “add to cart” button below. Take a few seconds to register and you’ll get instant access to “Survival MD.”

So there you have it… In this presentation you witnessed undeniable proof that America will sink to the level of a 3rd world country when a major crisis hits. For heaven’s sake, I lived right through it! Whether it’s going to be a hurricane, an economic collapse or a terrorist attack throwing us back to the middle ages… There will be no sanitation systems to prevent diseases…And no medical system to count on.

Everything you and I take for granted today…will VANISH in a crisis!

You’ve seen what happens when all hell breaks loose… How will you or those you love, survive? Children and seniors are the most vulnerable to illnesses because their immune systems are weaker than others… And they’re the first to get infected. I have two children and I can’t even imagine what my life would be like if anything happened to them.

This life saving knowledge is guaranteed to help you some time in your life. No matter if things are good or bad.

The first one is do nothing. You could walk away from this presentation thinking you’ll be fine. Yet in your heart you know in a crisis there will be no one to help you. Doctors will be forced to treat people in overcrowded hotel lobbies and churches. Hospitals and other public services will be gone.

Or you can do it on your own. It will take you years to gather this kind of information if you’re lucky enough to find it. I know this because I’ve already struggled with that…

Or you can simply skip all the hard work I’ve been through, save yourself tons of money and get “Survival M.D.” right now. I’ve spent a great deal of time and money researching and editing to make this information crystal clear. There’s no faster, cheaper or safer way to beat life threatening diseases without doctors in a crisis.

This is the only field guide that shows you how to survive without a doctor. You’ll not only outlive almost any diseases and emergencies proven to occur in a crisis… You’ll become a prized medical resource for your family and your community for years to come.

All you have to do is go through “Survival MD.” for 10 minutes a day for the next 10 days… And you’ll know you can finally protect yourself in a major crisis. Years from now you’ll thank yourself for taking action. Because these skills and information are valuable in any situation. And particularly valuable when medical help is not on the way.

Survival M.D. isn’t sold in stores or anywhere else online. And you’re covered by my “60 days money back guarantee”. There’s no need to worry. Because you can always get your money back no questions asked. And you can keep the bonus. That’s a thank you gift for taking the time to listen to my presentation.

Here’s the thing though… I’m not sure how long I can offer “Survival MD” at this price. This is just a special offer I’m making and there’s a good chance I’ll be forced to raise the price to $99 in the coming weeks. So get this now while you can. Just click the yellow button below now… it will take you to a secure page. Take 30 seconds to fill in your details and you’ll get access to your “Survival M.D.” program right away. You’ll also receive “How to survive without prescription” free when its normal retail price is $35. Together these programs would normally cost you over $100 but today you can get both of them for only $37. You could easily save thousands of dollars on medical care this year alone for your family. Which makes $37 a total bargain.

Thank you for watching this presentation. I hope you got a lot of value from it. I look forward to seeing you in the member’s area.

Still here? You probably have some unanswered questions… I’ll go over some of the most common questions real quick…

Q. “Do I need to be medically trained or have had first aid training?”

A. No. This material is simple and straight forward. It was especially designed for people with no previous medical training.

Q. “Do I need a medical degree to understand the material?”

A. No. There’s no medical jargon and terminology…Just plain English.

Q. “Is this about prevention or cure?”

A. It’s about both. Inside you’ll discover what steps to take before Disaster-day and how to fight back deadly diseases in post-apocalyptic America.

Q. “I’ll be able to say ‘Goodbye’ to the doctor forever after this course, right?”

A. This course is not intended to replace care from medical professionals in any way. It gives you proven and clean medical advice to survive ANY catastrophe when there will be no doctors around. Yet part of it will still be useful in day to day life as well.

Still on the fence? It all comes down to this…

You can either walk around blind folded and hope everything is just fine no matter what happens… Or you can get this medical field package at an incredible price today… Take the time to go through it… And live your life knowing if you do somehow walk across deadly medical conditions, this program will show you how to fend for yourself and your family. So, don’t become just another bystander and educate yourself ahead of time. You’ll be glad you did when the need arises.

This is priceless knowledge you can use in ANY crisis. Knowledge is power and it’s always a good idea to learn how to take care of yourself and your family… And who would you rather learn from? A top notch doctor who’s a slave to modern medical equipment? Or a doctor who saved thousands of people on a daily basis with his bare hands? Get Survival M.D. right now…Click the “Add to Cart” button below…and you can get started right away.

0 notes

acashgirl · 7 years

Text

Untitled Marvel Project: Part 8

WOOO guess who doesn’t entirely have writers block? Me! So here I am turning out the next part. Enjoy or don't, and I’ll catch you on the flippity-flop!

(First) (Previous) (Next) (Index)

Peter began to notice subtly differences in you when you two were together. You began to open up more and be positive about yourself. Always would there be self doubt but the fear was fading. At the time he became more busy with school activities and would apologize about his inability to be with you. This gave you spare time that you hadn't entirely wanted. You'd practice your ability on small items, books, rocks, a pinecone randomly placed upon the patio, and generally you were getting the hang of it. No longer was there drastic pain along your spine but a mild buzz that'd expand and shrink; the larger the item the more intense the pain but the more you'd mess with like sizes the less discomfort you'd feel. This ability you had was so peculiar. It caused you pain yet if you stuck with it it'd decrease and become bearable. The people surrounding you did not experience this type of struggle, a mental game yes, but not physical strain to this degree. Tony would badger you to train with them and even though you were becoming more comfortable with the idea you did not want to commit. The thought of a possible slip up with everything crashing down around you would cause nightmares and horrid daydreams. Wanda would come to you and sympathize as she understood the scary thoughts, she had gone through them too and still did sometimes. She would try and distract you with happy stories or watching a movie or even begin talking to you about Peter since everyone knew that’d make you feel better. It would generally work but she wasn't him. Him being gone left a weird feeling inside you, his radiating personality you were clinging onto was dimming in memory. It’d been about two weeks since you'd last spoke to him and since you didn't have a phone communication was a bit out the window. The thought of becoming addicted to the feeling you felt would teeter between acceptable or worrisome; Peter wouldn't stick around forever since he has his own life and you were not the majority, you couldn't be. Eventually you'd have to learn to cope by yourself and this was as good a time as ever. There had been a strange noise from below the floor traveling up through the stairs. They sounded like grunts and yells but the building didn't seem on alert. Following the noise you found yourself in an oddly familiar hallway, it was the one you ran through to escape the possessed Vision. Heading toward the double doors your hands reached out and pushed through them revealing the expansive covered hangar. In the middle of the room you saw two people flipping around and striking each other, presumably sparring. Once the sound wave of the doors opening reached them they stopped immediately and turned in your direction. One was a middle aged man with shorter hair that spiked gently upwards while the other was a younger woman, back toward you, with shoulder length fiery hair. The woman you recognized from the childrens photos, how could you forget that red hair, while the man seemed familiar but not enough for you to know. “Oh, s-sorry.” Squeaked out. “It’s quite alright,” the man stepped forward, “What’s your name?” “That’s Y/N.” The woman clearly said. “So you’re the infamous girl.” “Infamous?” “We’ve heard a bit about you.” The woman now standing along side the man. “Oh…” You let out an awkward laugh. “I’m Clint, and this is Natasha.” He motioned toward her. “Hi- sorry to interrupt what you were doing, I just heard the noise and curiosity took the better of me.” “It’s okay, we were cooling down anyway.” Natasha smirked toward you. “That was cooling down?” “What can we say, we’re professionals.” Clint laughed. “I can see that. I wish I could flip around like that, but I’m not athletic.” You let out a chuckle. “You can always learn, it’ll just take a while.” She replied. “I should probably learn other things before I learn to flip around.” “Like what?” Natasha furrowed her brow while Clint looked at you. “Trying to master my issue, once that’s done then I can add in some acro.” You smirked. Both their faces relaxed and they gently smiled. “Well good luck with that. Let us know when you want to add in some choreography.” Clint happily said. You nodded and smiled to yourself, “I’ll remember that. I’m gonna leave you two to finish cooling down, sorry about that again.” Sheepishly rubbing your arm and turning back to the doors. “Don’t worry about it,” Clint exclaimed. “Good to meet you!” Natasha finished. You made your way back through the doors and headed back up the stairs. As the kitchen came into view you could see Vision wandering about. You hadn't spoken to him much since the incident, not because you were scared but because you felt his shame about the situation. “Vision, hi.” You smiled warmly as he turned toward you. “Oh, hello miss Y/N, how are you today?” You breathed out, “Doing well thus far, haven't hurt myself yet.” He gently smiled, “Very good to hear, wouldn't want anything bad to happen to you.” “How are you Vision, really?” Taking a seat on the only stool you'd sit on. He stared into you seemingly contemplating if he wanted to be honest which you hoped he would be. “Please let me in.” Blinking toward the ground he sighed, “I am very sorry for what had happened that night, it was not me yet I was there. I was fully aware of what was happening but I was unable to prevent my actions. I've never felt so much hate in me and I never plan to again if I can stop it. These past few weeks I've been doing self reflection but I still can not determine what happened.” “Your gem, it had changed in appearance. What does it do?” “This?” He motioned to his forehead, “This is a-the mind stone.” “Mind stone?” “A being called Loki once housed it within his scepter. In his hand he was capable of controlling the minds of the unwilling. Once he was defeated it was transported to a S.H.I.E.L.D. location where it was smuggled away by sleeper agents. A man by the name of Wolfgang von Strucker then used it for human experimentation with two survivors, Wanda and he brother.” Your brow furrowed, Wanda had a brother? “Once his lair was infiltrated the scepter was back into our hands until a being called Ultron appeared and stole it away. He was the one who built me and placed the stone upon my brow but that was for him, my body was for him. My friends got possession of my body, Thor gave me life, and now I’m here.” “Is there only one?” “Only one mind stone, but there are six stones in total, the infinity stones.” “Are they all within beings?” “No. They are spread throughout the universe if not universes. Recently though they've been appearing more and more sporadically causing for concern.” Confusion crossed your face, “Concern? Why is that?” “I do not know but it feels dangerous.” Silence crossed the room and thoughts rushed through your brain, is Vision in danger? Are they all in danger… Are we all in danger? “Does it scare you?” The confusion now crossed his face, “The thought of death or the stone itself?” You shifted awkwardly, “Either I suppose.” “I hope to understand the stone, I do not fear its power but what others would do with it as Loki had. The thought of death though… if I die I will feel no difference, I have no fear. But the death of the ones I care for, that is what causes true fear.” It was hard to hear emotional changes in Vision as he spoke similarly a majority of the time yet this was different. It sounded more sullen and raw and he was scared. And why wouldn't he be? They're basically his family and without them he'd be alone in this world. Who else would understand him like them? He appeared subtly upset now, looking toward the ground refusing eye contact. Slowly you pushed yourself away from the stool and made your way toward him. He remained in the same position either lost in his own head or uncaring of what you were doing. Closing in on his tensed body you gently placed your hand around his wrist and grasped on. Still looking down he began to relax into place and closed his eyes. “Thank you Y/N, a sense of care radiates off you.” You smiled to yourself, “I try,” quietly laughed out. He inhaled deeply and opened his eyes, you could see the outside reflecting off his glossy view. Still not looking at you a small smile danced upon his lips and you softly squeezed his wrist before releasing your grip. “Vision I don’t think Wanda would appreciate you canoodling with Y/N.” Tonys face coming into view from an opposing hallway. “You have the most impeccable timing Tony.” You shot in. He smiled and Vision directed his gaze at him, “Canoodling?” “Yeah it’s when you… Well it doesn’t matter right?” “Do you even know the definition of ‘canoodling’?” Eyebrow raised. “Of course I do, I’m a genius!” “Mhm, of course.” Your smirked and walked behind Vision to pass up Tony whose head followed you. “Oh Y/N I had a question for you.” Turning on your heels you look back at him, “What?” skeptically slipped out. He smirked, “I’ve noticed you've been practicing your powers more, how about some combat?” “I don’t know-” “No pressure of course, but I believe it’d be beneficial.” Raising his eyebrows at you. “Am I going to be stopping a concrete beach ball again?” “I was thinking of a specific person, someone who’d be a challenge.” “Please tell me your not talking about yourself, I could easily slip you out of your suit.” “He is not Miss Y/N, I do believe he is unfortunately speaking of Wanda.” “Bingo!” Tony pointed a finger at Vision, “You win front row seats to the fight of the century!” “She would never agree-” “Unlike you she enjoys pushing her limits.” “So she's already agreed then.” Your eyes widened a bit as you stared past his torso. “Yup, and she's excited.” “Tony I do not believe this to be a good idea.” Vision spoke up. “Wanda won’t hurt her, she can control herself.” “I understand but it is not Y/N I am worried for.” “You think Y/N would kill Wanda?” “Practicing particlization on silverware is not the same as war weapons or a person.” “She wouldn’t particlize Wanda-” “How are you so sure?” Tony stammered something that neither of you could make out, as if he was stopping himself from confessing a secret. “I am just saying that this does not seem of a good idea.” “Wanda could handle anything thrown at her.” “Are you so sure?” “You guys remember I’m still here.” Whispered out of your near swollen throat. Vision turned his attention toward your blank face, “I do not mean to upset you Y/N I am just trying to reason with Tony. You yourself do not seem comfortable with the idea.” You blinked a few times and looked toward him, “I-I would like to try.” “You would?” Tony questioned, shock lying in his undertones. He came into your sight, “Y-yes. I want to try.” Tony looked at Vision then back at you, “Excellent!” He exclaimed. You could feel Vision staring into you but you did not face him. The discouragement he sent flowed through your body causing you to shiver and roll your head. “We’ll schedule for tomorrow, wear something you're comfortable being thrown around in.” You pulled a smile, “I only have like four items of clothing.” “Right,” He furrowed his brow, “I’ll send someone for something.” You nodded emptily, the fake smile still plastered on your face. “I have some calls to make, so I’m gonna head this way,” he pointed down a different hall, “Don’t stress to much, and get some sleep Rocky, preferably in your actual bed.” A glimpse of real joy ran through your smile and you let out a small laugh. With that he turned and walked down the darkening hallway. “Miss Y/N are you sure about this?” You sighed still looking into the darkness, “I’m not sure of anything anymore Vision.”

#avengers #avengers imagines #black widow #hawkeye #captain america #iron man #spiderman #scarlet witch #scarlett witch #steve rogers #tony stark #peter parker #peter parker imagine #reader x peter parker #the vision #the hulk

14 notes · View notes

ecotone99 · 4 years

Text

[TH] All the Pretty, Shiny Things

The walk home was always nerve wrecking. I constantly told myself that it didn’t bother me, but in reality, the last street lamp on my route plucks my nerves. It flickers on and off, and occasionally burns out, leaving those behind it to cast shadows of demons frolicking on the pavement in the dark. Or maybe they’re trees. I never really stopped to stare hard enough to look.

But I pass it, and make it the half block more. My keys laced between my knuckles, tumbling through my front door until I am once again in the sanctuary of my own home, always panting from the near sprint the last few minutes of the trip.

I’ve never been a brave one.

I hear my brother call out “hello” from the kitchen, and I manage a “hey” back between gasps for air, and drop my keys onto our hall table. I go back to the door and lock the 4 locks and set the alarm, turning around to admire the hallway table. It’s one of my favorite pieces of furniture in our shared house. Tall and slender, the black oak table sits flush against our matte gray walls, adorned with pictures above it. On it. Next to it. Our house is definitely a pottery barn cutout; “settlement money” may as well be plastered on the front door next to the house number. But it’s ours. Bought by us after our parents’ untimely deaths.

I don’t know if we have ever been the same. Tragedy has a funny way of affecting people sometimes. Holden started taking every course he could find on self defense. Weapons. Martial arts. Me? I hid. From my self, from the world, from everything I didn’t consider safe or comforting.

Fight or flight. It’s either in you or it’s not. It is most certainly not in me.

I walk into the kitchen and he’s sitting at the massive, dark marble island, typing away furiously at his lap top with a headset on. I smile at him and mouth “whats for dinner?” And he looks at me and shakes his head. I sigh.

The fridge is threadbare, partially because he didn’t food shop, and partially because he eats nearly everything in the house. Dude is a human vacuum.

I order a pizza, mouthing “pay for pizza” while making the hand gestures to him and I ruffle his hair as I pass. He throws some paper at my face and gives me the finger followed immediately by his award winning grin and a thumbs up. I laugh, and walk out of the kitchen to the sound of his discussion. A shower sounds so good right now.

The second floor of our house has 4 bedrooms and one “extra” room, two of which are master suites on each end of the floor. That extra room is a panic room. Accessible from both master suites, its in the middle of the floor and set to the back. Essentially a metal box, fortified steal makes up the walls on all sides. It's armed with weapons we are both trained and certified to use; cameras, beds, bathroom with a small shower, outside line, it’s own power source- literally any and everything you would and could possibly want out of a panic room. It also has enough provisions to sustain us for a month should we need.

By the grace of god, We have not needed.

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

I turn off my light and go to bed. My sheets whispering against my skin softly as they wrap me in their cool, white embrace. I always need it cold when I sleep. The night was pretty cool so instead of turning on the air conditioning, I opened my windows. The breeze rolled over me and lulled me to a sweet sleep.

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

I could have sworn I was sleeping for 20 minutes, but my clock on my phone read 1:57, so I had been sleeping for almost 5 hours when I heard the first sudden crash. I could feel my heart creep into my throat and felt frozen. I reached to turn on my light, and was puzzled for a second.

“What the fuck?” I said out loud, to no one in particular. The switch slid back and forth with soft clicks, but it didn’t turn on.

Something was wrong. This wasn’t just Holden banging ‘round, drunk on a Friday night. I reached into my nightstand and tapped the secret compartment that slid down from the top to offer me the hand gun she kept hidden. I racked a round into the chamber, and pulled the sheets back. I just have to make it to the safe room. Thats our plan. We don’t fight, we go for safety and assess the situation from there. My eyes trained on my window, still open to the 6 inches I had left it, and I scanned my bedroom, my eyes darting to the darkest corners, my mind betraying me with flickers in the blackness. I moved one foot out of my bed at a time, careful to not make sudden movements, and once my feet hit the floor I began my slow craw to the hidden door in my closet. My body felt like molasses, almost as if I was restrained, my legs and arms nearly immobile as I moved. The sweat was beading off of me now, my skin electric. I could feel it dripping off the tip of my nose and down my chest on to my breasts, slowly beginning to soak through my shirt.

I heard the first cry. I froze.

Unlike anything I have ever heard before, and I was a flood rushing to the door in my closet. Throaty and growling, animalistic. And then another bang. I was at the door now, and I put my finger on the entry pad and felt the gush of air as it opened.

The second. And a bang. What the actual fuck is going on. My hands were shaking. Get in, get in, get in.

I poured myself into it, and typed in the code behind me to seal it for 48 hours, which wouldn’t activate until Holden put his own in. I heard another inhuman cry, and a bang. And I cursed at myself for not being braver.

Fuck, Holden.

I looked around the room quickly, and immediately knew he wasn’t in there. None of the surveillance equipment had been turned on, and all lights were still dimmed. Behind the door, I relaxed a bit knowing I was safe, and began to turn everything on while I pulled on more practical clothing. It takes 2 minutes and 38 seconds for the system to fully boot, which is a lifetime if you’re fighting for your life, or worried about someone who maybe fighting for theirs. We spared no expense, however, and by the time I got my pants over my hips and was lacing up my tactical steel toed boots, I had a full view of the entire house, including his bedroom.

My heart bled in my throat as I scanned the wall of monitors for signs of life. Holdens, and whoever else might be in there. I turned on the sound and listened. The hum of Holdens ceiling fan softly floated through the speakers, and there he was, in bed. Sound asleep.

I felt sick. I frantically searched the rest of the house in the screens, but not one movement, not one thing out of place. No activation of the alarm. No dark figure lurking between rooms. The infrared cameras doing exactly what they were supposed to. I ran my fingers through my hair and over my face and take a deep breath. What the fuck is going on?

This room has its' own power source. My light didn’t work. Those screams. My mind races as I try to figure out what it is that I should do, and I decide that going to get him, that it is the only option. It’s the only way.

I go over to his door and punch in the exit code, and feel a familiar rush of air as it opens; I am so quiet, church mice are envious. The floor feels like quick sand under my knees and palms, pulling me into its abyss with each advance. I can hear my heart beat.

I get to the side of his bed and rise up. I can feel my throat close up, and the pressure build behind my eyes as I gently pull the covers back from him, the sting of tears burning behind them.

“Holden,” I breathe, “Please, Wake up.” I feel his body shift below my hand.

“What, Ryann, what are you fucking doing right now?” His voice is full of sleep.

“Please, please, just come with me. please. I heard something. The lights are out. You need to come, just come please. Reaper protocol.” I’m pretty sure my eyes were more pleading than my voice. He looks at me and I can feel the tears burning their paths down my cheeks, lava down a grass path.

“Oh, Ry, honey, nothings here. I promise” his voice is calm, assured. He slides his hands through my hair, and for a second I close my eyes and its ok. I feel his fingers come to the back of my head, and then pulls the back of it hard. My neck snaps back like an 80’s bracelet, and my vision blurs.

“HOLDEN!” I thrash.

I for a second I think I’m in my childhood home, and then I realize I am strapped to a bed. The walls gray. The frame metal. The bars on the insanely high window close, and thick. The bottom opened about six inches. The sheets white. The room cool. Theres a man standing over me telling me to calm down, but everything is underwater.

He was never there, the man says. This is a dream, he says. Take a deep breath, he says. Please, we don’t want to medicate you, he says.

I begin to calm down. My arms and legs are both restrained and I cant move the hair out of my face, and it’s in my mouth and sticking to me and I need it to stop.

“Ryann, do you know where you are?” The man says. And I just look at him, Is he insane?

“No, I don’t fucking know where I am. Where is my brother?” Calm but then “HOLDEN?! HOLDEN?! LET ME GO, LET ME FUCKING GO!” I could feel myself struggle. Futile. But I tried.

“Ryann, you’re in Letchworth Psychiatric Institute.” He says, gently. “Your brother Holden, and your parents, were murdered 15 years ago. “ he paused. I could feel the sting of salt sliding down my face. There is no way.

“No. Just mom and dad. Just mom and dad…” I trailed, “Not Holden. We live together. He does private security. I work for an attorney. I take the bus because I don’t like to drive. We order pizza because he never remembers to go food shopping.” I shook my head “ Not Holden. Tell me where he is. TELL ME!” I couldn’t tell if I was begging or if I was demanding, or if I was guessing.

The man looked at me with such sympathy, I could taste it.

“Ryann” he said " They were killed the summer of 2005. You killed them by accident. Someone had broken into the house. You were camping in the living room. Ryann, you shot them all, including the intruder, with the rifle your father kept in the closet. You have been here since this happened. Your family came running down the stairs. You didn’t know. You thought they were all intruders…” his voice trailed off. “ I tell you this once a month.”

I just looked at him, the tears stopped.

“I want to see my brother. Please. Just… let me see my brother.” I was calm now. I swallowed hard, and the pity mixed with sympathy in his eyes didn’t change. That’s ok. I was brave now. I’d find him.

You can be brave. Be the bravest you’ve ever been.

submitted by /u/thedutchess914 [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2Yo5b2M

#Blogger #Story

0 notes

dvbermingham · 4 years

Text

Chapter 9: Jazu

It was about three in the morning when we got to Tonic. I knew it was on the west side, over by 10th ave, so we drove around for a while until we spotted a few greasy looking inebriates who were walking with a little extra swing in their step, not looking for any trouble, no girls around to impress, too tired from dancing wildly through the night. This was the mid-nineties, mind you, so this kind of thing was just about to get very irritating to a lot of people.

They showed us the way — an old warehouse with no line, no bouncer, no velvet rope, just a light bulb glowing green above a door. Inside, there was a small man inside a small wooden encasement, old and chestnut brown. He looked like a fortune teller at a carnival, and took our money and told us to have fun.

Inside, smoke clouds plumed and collided like volcanic eruptions, formed a haze that swam between and through the purple and green lights. It was a wild atmosphere. The music was spastic, incredible. The kind of music Takuto listened to whenever he had the chance. The drummer led the band, calling out expletives each time one of his bandmates made his ears orgasm. It was a thrill to watch. I was glad to not have to talk anymore.

We walked up to the bar, the man there wearing a leather apron and a bow-tie, knives and strainers and jiggers attached to his apron like weapons and ammo. Matsusaka introduced himself and ordered two scotches neat. The bartender twiddled his mustache to greet us and introduced himself. Whit Bissell is what I heard, and that’s what I chose to believe. He served up the scotches and put out a plate of raw cabbage with a dipping sauce. The scotch burned its way down and we ordered another. Matsuzaka did the talking, while I watched the room. Pure human writhing, sweaty and beautiful. There were people of all ethnicities, all ages, even young boys and girls, dressed up in oversized suits and wing-tip shoes, drinking from rocks glasses and throwing them down, skidding off and slicking the dance floor to give the whole human carousel a slippery twist. No one seemed to care about anything. I finished my scotch and asked for another. For the first time that night I was feeling good.

Then I suddenly felt even better. Across the room I met the eyes of a beautiful creature, a mature woman with hips bursting from her tan high-waisted pants, a ruffled green shirt that looked softer than five-star hotel sheets. Her hair was as red as hot brick, cascading over itself like lava, the kind of hair her parents were baffled at having created, the kind of hair never seen before in the family, like the genes were biding their time, waiting to bestow it when the right person came along. Our gaze was quickly broken. She was dancing with everyone and no one all at once and for forever, her body airborne, her feet never once touching the ground. I wanted to breathe her in, smell every inch of her, let her aroma bewilder my brain. Then there was a tap on my shoulder. “Lou! What the fuck are you looking at?” Matzu handed me my third scotch. “Pay attention, alright? This place is dangerous.”

Dangerous it was indeed. Dangerous for the heart, dangerous for the soul, dangerous for what a woman like that could do to the only body I had. But Matzu was right. I forced my head in different directions, scanning the room for threats. There were quite a few people I would classify as goons or thugs or just generic intimidating security types. Nothing that seemed out of the ordinary, a fair number of Japanese men and women though, the security definitely sushi. What did a place like this have to worry about? What did it hold? Who did it attract?

The hot jazz explosion on stage came to denouement with the drummer executing a long solo that in my sloshy mind turned him into a cartoon octopus. The crowd roared, the band screamed, the cymbals clattered and the kick drums shook and the musicians started backing up as though their leader was about to self-immolate. Two people in the middle of the dance floor fainted, several more threw their drinks in the air, liquid courage showering the room. It felt like New Years Eve.

The drummer fell off his chair in a show of exhaustion, then bounced back up as soon as the clapping turned to a chant, all smiles. He straightened everything, held up his hand to quiet the audience, a call of a new mood. The frenzy came to a hush — soon all you could hear was heavy breathing, giggles, suggestive whispers. The trumpeter started up something slow and blue. The dance floor paired off, the bass showing them the way, slowly. Then the shhhhh of a brush on the ride, more slowly now, dragging the band a half-step back. I scanned the dance floor with hopes to see her again — she was pulling her hair back in an effort to cool off, revealing a thick neck I wanted to explore with the tip of my nose.

She watched as I walked toward her, the sea of dancers separating, my tribe cheering me on. My momentum carried me too far, and I found myself unable to stop my body from crashing into hers. Luckily, a woman of such magnitude had no problem side-stepping my oafish clumsiness, catching me by the arm, spinning me around, and leading the way. We danced for what felt like an eternity. Neither of us spoke, our bodies turning and turning over on each other, the bar and the other dancers having long faded away, leaving only the rhythms and us.

Of course that moment passed, gone forever, a moment I will never get back but am grateful to have had at all. The music kicked into another gear, and I realized I had been away from my post, had left my mark. I severed, but before I could, she pulled me back by my forearm and asked me my name. I said Lou, Lou Mastiff, and she said hers was Vicky Felix. I told her I had to go, that I was working, and I saw no concern on her face, no sense of loss, no pining. I, however, pined. I pined immediately for the dance that just ended. But there she went, away to dance alone again, never losing an inch of that smile, as though knowing something she was sure I would soon know as well.

Matsuzaka watched me the whole way back to the bar. “Sorry I just had to get that out of my system,” I said.

He shook his head. “No worries Lou. It was fun watching. You’re a good dancer.”

“I am?”

“I wish I could dance like that.”

“I could teach you.”

“Unfortunately I’m a little focused on not getting shanked in the alley, so maybe we can push off the dance lessons a few weeks, hm?”

“Right I’m s—“

“While you were over there over there with Miss Hipswivels I’ve been here talking to my new friend Mr. Bissell. He tells me there was quite a scene here a couple weeks ago involving our friend Takuto. Turns out Takuto had a bit of a drug problem. Got him into some trouble with the local dealers I guess.”

“Drugs?”

"The devil’s sushi rice. Colombian short-grain. Brought out his aggressive side. I guess that was enough for Senju to give the okay for him to get taken out. No sense in jeopardizing the whole city of New York for one junkie, right?”

“I never realized,” I said.

“That’s what my new friend Whit here seems to think. And if that’s the case, then we, my friend, are in the clear. Raise a glass. You too Mr. Bissell. A toast to our dearly departed friend Boss Takuto. And to new beginnings. And to New York!”

“To sushi!”

“Here here.”

We drank. Matzu ordered another round and we turned our attention back to the band, which was putting forth glorious noise feasted on by the pack of insatiable hyenas on the dance floor. I tried to pick out Vicky Felix, but she was no where to be found. I told them I’d be right back and went to go look. As I moved through the frenzy I got the feeling again, the same one that I got in the alley outside Takuto’s apartment, that same feeling that came too late, after he had already been cut up and left for dead. I glanced to the perimeter of the room and the guards had shifted, and multiplied. Some were in among the dancers, others were moving in groups of two and three. I turned to the bar. Neither Whit nor Matzu were there, just a couple of jazz freaks trying to get a round of drinks. That’s when I felt a hand on my shoulder, a pistol in my side. Turn around sir, I heard him say. And don’t make a scene.

I was sandwiched between two Japanese men with long hair and black suits. They moved me through the crowd with ease. The trumpeter and I made eye contact and he blew a little harder. I tried to swivel my head one last time to see if Ms. Felix was anywhere near by and got a nice clock in the spine for it. Keep moving, buddy, he said, jamming the pistol deeper into my kidney.

I was relieved to find no aquatic themes in the back room of the club. There were no decorations at all, just exposed pipes, uneven floors, ceiling rot, peeled paint. The metal chair bolted to the floor had little metal jags on the corners which tore my clothes as my body absorbed the alternating slaps and punches and the occasional stomp. The slaps actually hurt more than the punches. With this mass my body can absorb any number of direct blows, but something about the tautness of my skin, maybe due to being overworked trying to retain all the blubbery bits inside of me, it’s a little more sensitive than most other parts of my body. This guy, the slapper, seemed a well-practiced skin-stinger. Still, years of taking beatings gave me the ability to dissociate from the pain and the torture of it all so I just kind of coast through and deal with the physical trauma later. As for the psychological trauma, well, I just hope I die before I ever have to deal with that.

“I’ll tell you whatever you want,” I said, trying to gauge what level of back-rooming we were dealing with here. But they hadn’t asked me anything, didn’t seem to care. Like a classically trained boxer I sat there absorbing everything those henchmen could give me. Then I hit them with some basic trivia, current events or pop culture from decades ago, general knowledge type stuff. This was a tactic I learned years ago from one of my early mentors Don “Loopie” Loper, back in my days as a caddie. When I was starting out, the best way to get into the hired goon industry was through your local caddy program. Loopie told me that when he was getting worked over by a couple of tough guys you wanted to tire out without getting yourself too messed up, just quiz them a little. Nothing too hard. Give them questions they feel like they probably know or used to know once upon a time. It distracts them, makes them feel inadequate, but it won’t enrage them. It’s a subtle defanging that creates self-doubt. Punches will land a little softer after that.

As the one part of my mind took care of the beating-end of business, the other part, the one hiding deep in the brain-bunker, began trying to remember those last few moments between when I walked away from Matzu and when I turned to find him gone. Had I seen anything suspicious? What did Whit Bissell’s face say to me when I slugged back that fourth scotch? Did he smile? Did he glance to the corners of the room?

A while went by — who knows how long. At some point I glanced at my new friends through what I assumed were my swollen eyelids and saw them panting, a little sweaty on the brow, a little hunched over, and I decided it was about time. I stood up, grabbed them both by their wrists and squeezed. Right there I heard two separate snaps. I held on, squeezed some more. That was another trick Loopie taught me. The old adage “break the wrist, walk away” was for amateurs. Professionals snap the wrist and hold on, they squeeze, grind up those little bird bones into dust. Make the pain so intense and long lasting that your enemies collapse that their whole bodies quake and they wet themselves. Then let go.

Out front the band was packing up. A few people still lingered, flirting with the musicians, sucking back the remaining ice in their highball glasses. Security had vanished. I let my nose guide me to the smell of fresh city air.

Night was over. The sun was making its way over the horizon, giving the sky a nice peachy preview of the day to come. It was going to be a warm one. High humidity, hazy sky. I tried to catch my breath enough to get walking, seeing as I didn’t want to hang around the club much longer. That’s when I heard a voice. A woman’s voice. A voice that made my buttocks tingle. I looked over to what appeared to be a small cluster of bikers wearing cut off shirts, long hair, standing around their motorcycles.

“The big bad Mastiff got away,” she said. Now I knew my eyes were swollen, as I saw her figure walk towards me, I was unable to make out a single feature. Instead I smelled a glorious sweet aroma, hers and only hers. “Looks like they did a number on you.”

“I’d say you should see the other guys, but honestly, it’s just two grown man who’ve pissed their pants.”

“You got a ride?”

“I’ll just hail a cab.”

“Nonsense. I’ll take you home.”

We rode without helmets down the empty New York streets, too early for traffic, maybe it was a Sunday. I felt the air whisk away the dried blood crusts off the corners of my mouth. Vicky took local streets, coasting through red lights, swerving across four lanes and back again, taking her time. I saw the sun cast double in the river as we crossed the bridge headed to Brooklyn. The air smelled different above the streets, closing in on a new borough. I became overwhelmed with emotion, thinking of how I lost Matzu, how I left the tuna, how I might be 0-8, or is it 0-7, I couldn’t remember. The sight of Brooklyn made me wonder how much of the world was really out there for me to explore, and what exactly was holding me back.

We pulled up to a big building on Atlantic ave, across the street from some Lebanese grocers. It was an old concrete thing with the words Ex-Lax carved into stone above the entryway. She said it was the old factory, or one of them, she didn’t know. When we got inside she told me to flop down on the couch while she runs a bath. There was nothing I wanted more than a nice flop, and she knew it. She could tell that’s what I needed, knowing me only a couple hours. I knew I had found someone special.

0 notes