#I got my skin lady. my liver guy. my heart lady. my eye lady

[explainslowly]

Get your transfem Dean season 10 au here!! Get yourself a girl who has so many problems!!

This started by me kicking around a little idea in a chat with @autisticandroids - what if Demon Dean just started taking estrogen? Like where would that lead...

The other idea behind these fics was to write short episode reactions, see how much stuff I could fit into something only a few hundreds words long... and to make pushing through season 10 less of a slog...

The series can be found here (I definitely want to continue through season 11 and perhaps longer, I've just been busy with other stuff):

Links to each story with excerpts under the cut:

Even animals suffer - demon Dean in her own words

The number one unpleasant discovery I have made in my time here, is how much of a bleeding sentimental heart Crowley has. It’s pathetic.

Now the guys that stare in bars, those are a different story.

They lead and I follow, behind the building or into their trucks and I bend over easy, let them take me rough, smelling the sweet smell of rotting garbage in damp hot weather. They like to lean on me hard and grab a boob harder, an endless parade of older guys whose failing livers you can smell on their breaths. The pain is sweet.

I don’t need no rising moon - Dean puts himself back together

He examines his naked chest - he wonders what happens next? It’s not like he did much research as a demon - he was just eyeballing the amounts. Maybe the fat will just… reabsorb itself or something. He grabs the small mounds of protruding flesh - the sight of his large hands engulfing them completely gives him a sense of vertigo, or like he’s looking down from a great height, so he closes his eyes and just concentrates on the sensation. They lack the heft of a larger cup, the satisfying weight, but it feels so soothing to hold them nevertheless.

About a girl - Dean has a little thought experiment

It’s kind of funny - Dean forgot how he used to look. That he shot up tall before he got broad, was lanky in a funny way, like an unfinished human. And doe-eyed and soft featured… it makes his mind go in all the wrong directions. Makes him think about possibilities, before testosterone takes hold - a body that hasn’t become yet and is sort of shapeless in a way that makes his head spin.

It’s just idle daydreams.

Lana del Rey croons on the radio and Dean indulges, really gives himself permission to think about it.

What do teen girls even look like these days? He’s out of the loop on it all… Probably something like... thick eyeliner? Lot of makeup… awkwardly applied, but that’s ok. It wouldn’t look out of place on a fifteen year old. That kind of clumsiness is all within reason at that age. You get space to find yourself, that's kind of what being a teen is about, he thinks.

Dirge - a little Drowley interlude

Crowley lays his palms on Dean’s ribcage, framing his chest.

“Hello ladies.”

The embarrassment burns Deam up - he feels his face flame red. “Fucking hell, Crowley…”

“Just getting reacquainted,” Crowley sounds amused, but he doesn’t keep his distance long, dives in, licking Dean’s breast, the beard scratching at sensitive skin, sending electricity down his spine. Crowley is thumping at the nipple not in his mouth and his other hand is unbuttoning Dean’s jeans.

[llycaons]

its really good that I took today off because not only did I start getting treatment for the tooth pain and have the time to prep the new storage unit, I also made a bunch of health care related calls and avoided a potentially disastrous appointment time. but goddamn managing your health appointments even with relatively mild chronic issues is such a hassle if you have multiple providers

[hoodoo12]

Roses and Rot

This is based of a loose prompt: “Jealous and possessive Keatlejuice where the boy goes feral”. My pals @vicunaburger (Last Train Home)and @clairjohnson (Night Out) also wrote for this prompt; go check them and their fine stories out!

NSFW. Possessiveness, extreme violence and gore, smut, minor bondage, dub-con. This is a darkfic.

~

There hadn’t been any sound. No warning, and that was the scariest thing of all. There was some asshole douchebag who’d been catcalling you and who jogged after you down the sidewalk, even though you’d made it plainly clear you wanted nothing to do with him. The guy had the balls to grab your shoulder, and that was the end.

He’d been torn away from you so abruptly you’d been jerked back too, stumbling and losing your balance. You shouted, because you’d first thought the guy had done it himself, but when you gathered your wits your shout died in your throat at the sight that met your eyes. The douchebag was on his back and screaming, although his voice also went the way of yours. For a different reason, however: it was hard to scream when there was no breath capable of being drawn after the hand shoved in his gut ruptured his diaphragm and was now elbow deep into his chest. “Heart’s still beatin’. Pity,” Beetlejuice laughed. “Not for long though, buddy.” Straddling the man’s legs like they were wrestling or they were lovers, he extracted his hand slowly, like that would be a kindness to make it hurt less. When just his hand was still inside, he cocked his head. “I think that’s your liver. Spleen feels a little less smooth, an’ if I’d gone through it--whoa! You’d have bleed out way too soon! Oops, looks like my damn ring is caught on something--”

With a more violent jerk than maybe needed to happen, he yanked his hand out of the guy with the thickest wet sound you’d ever heard. You retched involuntarily as Beetlejuice examined what looked like a rope of intestine in his hand. Your gag caught his attention. Quick as a snake, he looked up and caught your eyes. Typically pale blue, his eyes were blown dark with what you would have classified as arousal, except he was drenched in blood and was pawing through a person’s innards like picking up candy from a destroyed pinata. Beetlejuice grinned ferally at you, licking his teeth. He seemed to realize he’d gotten some blood sprayed onto his chin, because he licked further down to remove it. You weren’t sure what to think. Or say. Or do. You felt frozen, a rabbit, pinned by a predator’s gaze. Your choices were to not move and maybe he’d ignore you, or run and hope he was having too much fun with the soon-to-be corpse under him. “What’s the matter baby?” he said with much too much amusement in his voice. “I did this for you.” You could barely wrap your head around that, and you shook your head slightly because of it. The amusement on his face melted to a scowl, and you flinched. Luckily, Beetlejuice seemed to believe it was due to the man twitching and still trying to draw breath underneath him. He turned ferociously back to him. “You fuckin’ cocksucker--you apologize to the lady!” he spit, literally, in the dying man’s face. 

It was unfathomable to you the amount of pain and shock the guy must be in, with his guts systematically being pulled from the hole Beetlejuice put in him. When he didn’t respond to the order that had been given to him, the specter snarled and used his unoccupied hand to grab the guy’s chin to twist his head up and over awkwardly to look at you. “Fucking apologize,” he demanded again. He held on with so much force his nails cut into the man’s cheeks. The guy who may or may not have assaulted you given the chance, whose only ‘crime’ was being a prick in public and daring to lay a hand on you, managed to raise his eyes enough to meet yours. He was crying, but still no real noise came from him; collapsed lungs didn’t provide enough air to pass through vocal cords. He wheezed, a little. 

Beetlejuice cranked his head back to a more proper position. “That’s much better,” he said brightly, like a teacher praising a pupil that finally understood something complex. “I’m sure you’ll never do anything like that again, will you?” The guy wheezed again, and you could see that his tears made clean tracks through the blood on his face. “WILL YOU?!” Beetlejuice screamed suddenly, dropping his face within inches of the man. 

The guy still had enough strength to flinch. That made Beetlejuice laugh again, and he planted an opened-mouth kiss to the man’s mouth. It prevented you from seeing what his hands were doing, but you didn’t miss the specter sucking in like he was stealing the last of his victim’s breath. When he sat back up, a string of bloody saliva bridged between the two men’s lips. With one hand on the man’s chest and the other still running intestines through his fingers like fine silk, Beetlejuice cocked his head. “Heart’s giving out, buddy. Maybe, if I’m quick--” And again, with no warning, he torn into the man’s torso with a frenzy. You’d never known how strong he was; you’d never considered how strong he was, but skin and muscle split and ribs were cracked, and before you even had the chance to look away, Beetlejuice had his prize: exposure of the guy’s heart, still in his ruin of his chest, beating erratically from blood loss and rapidly dropping blood pressure. Beetlejuice looked up at you, gave you a wink, and gave the heart a vicious flick. Luckily the guy didn’t feel it; he was obviously dead. Hawking something up from the back of his throat, the specter spit a gob of mucus directly into the dead man’s open chest. You’d never seen someone die before. You’d never seen such frenzied carnage. If you could have torn your eyes away from the show of wanton destruction, you would have. You felt numb and shocky yourself, like you wanted to vomit and curl into a fetal position all at the same time. All your limbs were cold. The fact that it was done so casually, that Beetlejuice looked just as he’d always looked--grimy, moldy, the corners of his mouth always just about to turn up like he was always one step ahead of anyone else around--he didn’t look monstrous at all except that his favorite suit was now that start of a joke--what’s black and white and red all over--

--your thoughts felt fractured, a skipping record, and a giggle slipped out of you, less for amusement or approval and more because you had no reference on how to respond to any of this.

Beetlejuice took your giggle the wrong way, of course. In a flash, between one blink and the next, he was at your side, arms around your waist to hold you upright and against him. The blood soaked into his suit felt clammy and left smears on you. There was still a feral light in his eyes, and pressed this close, it wasn’t any secret he was aroused. “Nobody gets to touch you but me, baby,” he informed you. Just as he leaned down for a kiss that you dared not refuse him, he continued, “You’re mine.”

His mouth covered yours and you held your breath. The taste of him, damp soil with base notes of roses and rot, was familiar; the new flavor of iron from the residual blood on his face was not and you did not care for it much. Naturally, he didn’t care. While you squeezed your eyes shut and tried not to act too put off in case that made him angry, an odd pressure surrounded you and when he released you and you opened your eyes, you were back in your bedroom. You didn’t dare point out that if he could just remove you from the situation on the street he didn’t have to tear that guy apart. 

Wiping his thumb along his lower lip as he stared over you with hungry eyes, he repeated in a low voice, “You’re fucking mine,” as if you’d argued. 

He still seemed to think there was some disagreement, however, maybe because you were still shocky from the events and you weren’t as responsive as typical to his advances. He lifted his lips in what you thought was supposed to be a smile but came off more as a snarl. “Men. Always sniffin’ around, always thinkin’ they can touch whatever they want without consequences. Never thinkin’ that what they’re touchin’ might belong to someone else!” he ranted. This was not the time to try and educate him on the fact that the word “belong” was offensive and demeaned you into being property. 

He took a breath that you know was for show because he didn’t actually breathe any longer, and focused on you again. “I know you didn’t flirt with that guy, baby. I know you didn’t ask for him to follow you and touch you. He was just a prick who got his just reward. But I gotta say . . . seeing him try and get your attention . . . it got me a little possessive.” Once again you held your tongue, although that was damn obvious. You weren’t against possessiveness, per se, and had occasionally breathed into his ear that you only wanted him, you were his, those sentiments and the like slipping from your lips as he fucked himself into you, but this was a little more than typical. The standard thrill of his aggressive behavior was there, even if your pulse also pounded out of fear. Beetlejuice gave you a much softer smile, and it almost made you relax. When he stepped up to you again, however, the smile slipped and a rock settled in your gut because your subconscious better recognized the not so sweet intent behind him coming close again. He grabbed the back of your head, his ragged nails catching in your hair. That was not uncommon; his hand being tacky from mostly dried blood was. You gasped and automatically pulled your head back in response. That only made him laugh. “Gotta be a way to show assholes like that you’re mine--” he growled half to himself, but loud enough for your ears too. “Gonna show them you’re mine--”

With that, he spun you around. Off balance because you weren’t expecting it, you fell front first onto the mattress. Before you could twist or protest or anything, you found yourself without a stitch of clothing on; one of his ‘parlor tricks’ that sometimes you liked very much. A new element had been added, however: your arms stretched forward and wrists restrained with exactly what, you didn’t know. You didn’t keep any ties or shackles in your bedroom; there’d never been any talk of tying up or restraint--

“--gonna prove it, I know you know you’re mine, baby, but other people, other people need to know--”

His obsessive rambling didn’t calm you. He drew his tacky hands down your back to the swell of your ass, and he kicked open your legs, putting you in a more precarious position without your feet under you. You heard the soft noise of a zipper, even with both his hands still on you, spreading you open so your pussy was exposed. 

“--I’ll show ‘em, it’ll be a giant neon sign announcing to the world--”

You had no idea what he meant, but could only imagine it was some sort of other phasmagorical trick he could conjure. Maybe he’d brand you with his name? Maybe he’d claw you till you were bleeding, leaving scars which would give other people pause to even talk to you? His cold fingers dragged themselves through the folds of your pussy and automatically your back dipped to allow him better access. He chuckled through his word vomit and now the head of his cock, wider than his fingers, followed their same trail. You relaxed as best you could against the restraints stretching your arms, knowing what was coming next. With one hand still gripping your hip, when Beetlejuice found where he wanted to be he thrust forward and filled your cunt with one motion. With zero preparation and a slaughtering as foreplay, the friction was immense and you cried out. You’d fucked him often enough that he opened you up easily, and the tight drag and pull lit up your nerve endings anyway. Your cry of surprise that devolved into a moan made him chuckle again. The hand he’d used to hold the base of his cock while he seated himself inside you came up and slapped your ass more sharply than you expected and you jumped and yelped, which only spurred him on more. He did it again, this time spanking you lower on your ass. You felt the extra sting of his ring making heavy contact with the thin skin of your upper thigh. 

Through it, he fucked you at a blistering pace. 

You cried out with each thrust; you groaned each time he pulled back. You’d have reached behind yourself to grab at him, to hook your fingers into his waist, or slipped a hand under you to finger your own clit, but neither of those were options since he decided he wanted all the control himself. You had no choice but to enjoy the rough ride. Beetlejuice hadn’t stopped talking, although it was now interspersed with his own guttural groans. “--fuck-fuck-fuck, your fuckin’ cunt is the best, baby--it’s mine an’ I’m gonna make sure people fucking know it--”

Going to your tiptoes, even with your legs spread to accommodate him, helped tilt your pelvis so he managed to thrust against the perfect spot inside you, even if he didn’t do that on purpose. Drool made a wet spot under your cheek on the mattress, because he drove such pleasure into you it was difficult to remember to do something like close your mouth or swallow. “--gonna fucking fill you up, fuck! Gonna, gonna--” Beetlejuice leaned over you, his weight pressing you down into the mattress. He hadn’t shed his clothing, you learned with a start, as the still damp-with-blood fabric of his jacket and shirt chaffed over your back. You wiggled more out of disgust than pleasure at the feeling of it, but he didn’t seem to recognize that subtle difference, or he didn’t care. He moved one hand to entangle itself into your hair again, to steady himself and stretch you back towards him. With his face now against your neck he grunted, “--gonna fill your cunt with come, baby--”

You gasped at those words, and he laughed again. “--oh, you like that? You like the idea of this dead guy’s come up in your pussy, smelling like me, huh? No one’d mess with you then, so full of rot--gonna flood your cunt--”

Was that even possible? Typically he liked to pull out and come on you, and yes it didn’t smell great but it was easily washed away. If he came in you, would the stench linger? The thought terrified you. The thought also excited you. You should be ashamed and alarmed, but just couldn’t be; him positioned on top of you, his cock still hammering into you, throwing sparks of bliss keep into your belly, promising that no one else would want you, you couldn’t do anything but take what he gave you and it was so, so good--

With a howl, you came around his cock, your pussy spasming even as he continued to thrust into you. He was still talking but your ears were ringing, and in another few moments, while you worked to catch your breath, Beetlejuice yanked your hair hard enough to make you cry out, and shoved his hips so hard into you it actually hurt, and groaned during his own release, deep inside you, just as he’d promised. 

He didn’t immediately pull out and roll off of you either, as typical. He stayed right where he was, rocking his hips through his orgasm as if actively working his come to where it needed to be to leave your pregnant. After several moments and slowly feeling like you were going to have to struggle to get him off you so you could draw a full breath, he pushed himself up and back. You heard him fiddling with his fly again, and wondered if he even dropped his trousers during at all. 

As his cock left you a gush of wet soaked you and the edge of the mattress. Beetlejuice grunted and shoved his fingers up against your pussy as if to push his come back in. You stretched and wiggled against the restraints on your wrists, and suddenly they were gone too.

You rolled over, not caring that whatever bloody mess he’d transferred to you would be on your bedding now. You weren’t sure how you were supposed to feel.

The specter still looked like he worked in a particularly unsanitary butcher shop. Instead of stripping or anything else remotely politely human, he dropped onto the bed bedside you and spooned into you, like all this had been normal.

“I fucked up, baby,” he whispered, to your amazement. 

Oh! Maybe he did see that he went overboard and unnecessary!

He sighed and kissed your shoulder. You felt the imprint of his teeth, but he didn’t bite you. In an even lower voice, he continued, “I should’ve kept that guy alive so he could’ve seen all that we just did there. Then I shoulda fuckin’ offed him.” You kept your mouth shut once again, and just lay with him like he wanted. 

fin

[gotmilk5101520]

Trollhunters: Tales of Arcadia Watch Episode 22 It’s About Time

It’s about time something is 1 part.

“Where is Bulgaria?” Ah, i see. Interesting.

How long he had that bird?

And there goes the bird.

“I call you forth! Argante”

“Lady Pale”

“Baba Yaga”

“Eldritch Queen” Remember these names. Cause Jim won’t.

“I come to trade”

“Gunmar’s war for the surface lands has ravaged my village”

“I need the power to protect my people”

“You seek magic, but what do you bring in return?”

“Here, my offering”

”Carved from my own living stone” If this was a human he offer his liver.

“You will seek Merlin’s champions”

“and bring death to his Trollhunters!”

“No!”

You know what they say: “Magic comes with a price”

“What do you call cheese that isn’t yours?”

“I’ve got it! Nacho cheese”

“And it’s “Nacho” day, either”

“Now!”

*Sighs in Troll*

“I said”

“Now!”

You guys are a bit late.

“I miss the simpler days of hunting gnomes” Ah, good old first half of season 1 days. Good times.

“The Mega Trinidad Scorpion Burrito with spicy sour cream and pastrami” Well i love spicy food. So i have to be the judge of that (What i mean is at times my family would say something is spicy and when i try it i say it’s not. I’m so use to spicy things that it’s rare for them to burn my tongue. If that burrito is as spicy as Toby says it is, i’ll be the judge)

“Not again!” They really need to stop feeding him

“The Kairosect enables its bearer to step outside of time”

“Affording the opportunity to do this”

“What just happened?”

“I feel so violated” Jim is looking at Toby and Claire wishing he was in Toby’s place. And Claire is wishing Jim was in Toby’s place.

“This is amazing!” “Ow!”

“Do you know what this means?” “We are Dio!”

“We are Jotaro!” “We can start screaming ZA WARUDO!” “Or say Yare Yare Daze”

“Ah! Power’s of this device are limited to three rules”

“According to the inscription”

“the first is that only one person can step outside of time” “So it is The World”

“Secondly, is the time-stopping effect lasts for precisely”

“43 minutes and 9 seconds” But why that precise time?

“And the third?”

“You can only use it, uh...”

“Three times”

“Wait! You just used that thing, like twice”

“Well, the first, to test its ability”

“and the second, to demonstrate it to all of you” Moral of the story is don’t let Blinky test or demonstrate anything.

“Try to fit some sleep into your busy schedule, okay?” Yeah, i can’t fit sleep into my schedule.

“Guillermo, no... no...” Suddenly dreaming about the series creator.

“Why are you calling me in the middle of the night?”

“Jim, it’s 8:30!”

“I slept through my alarm!”

“They’re gonna carve that on your tombstone, Jimbo” Here lies Jim Lake Jr. He died cause he slept through his alarm.

“We got a problem!”

“Oh, great. Now what?” “I was thinking last night”

“Say you go through with trade and Angor’s free. How can we trust him?”

“What do you mean?”

“He kills Trollhunters”

“I don’t think he’s looking to retire” Angor Rot later retires to... Uh, somewhere. You guys decide.

“Hello?”

“An infestation!”

“Bagdwella?”

”How did you get my number?” “It was Toby!” “It was Claire!”

She slides in. Like how she’ll slide in when- Never mind.

“Gnomes!”

“They’re revolting!”

“I know, gnomes are disgusting”

“No, the other kind of revolting, dear!”

“They’ve organized to tear apart my shop!” Gnomes, you should do that here where Capitalism ruins our lives.

“What do you mean, you can’t? You either wear the ring or make the trade”

“I can’t stack gnomes!”

“Not stacking! Catching!”

“Poof! Last challenge, Lake!”

“Just get the ring-”

“No, you have to trade-”

“WAAAHHH!!!”

“I’m losing my mind!“

Someone needs to help this boy.

“Tell me” “I mean, he just seems so...”

“preoccupied”

“It’s almost like he has this entire secret life”

“that i don’t know anything about”

“Wait. Oh, my gosh. What is that?”

“Mosquito”

“Okay”

“I know that teenagers go through all manner of changes”

“But what bothers me is that Jim and i have always been close”

“I mean, i didn’t think that we would ever keep secrets from each other”

“Are you okay?”

“I-I truly doubt he’s keeping anything secret from you” Yeah not like something about Jim’s secret life is right in front of you.

“Well, perhaps the issue is that he’s no longer a man-”

“I mean”

“Becoming a troll!”

“Wah!” Is this some sort of foreshadowing?

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’ve never felt better”

“Oh, dear. Just gassy”

“Mr. Blinky, your skin... You’re turning blue”

“Now, i don’t want to alarm you, but i think you’re having a heart attack”

“And are you smoking?”

“A filthy habit. I really must quit” Wow they got away with a smoking joke.

“Everyone, go away!” When you want to be alone.

“Master Jim! Disaster!”

“I’m reverting to troll form!”

“That’s great! Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Yes, but in a public toilet where you mother is beating down the door! And my gronk-nuks are exposed!”

“Blinky’s stuck in Arcadia”

“and he’s turning into a troll”

“My Shadow Staff is at home”

“Tell him i’ll be right there!“

“AH!”

“DAH!”

“CLAIRE”

“NO!”

“AAAAAHHHHH!!!!”

“ZA WARUDO!”

“TOKI YO TOMARE!”

“Why did you let me drag you into this?”

“But how could i ever say “No” to those eyes?”

“Jim, focus!” Took the words right out of my mouth.

“Needs to be more gay”

“Much better”

“Adios, Senor Uhl” Jim should be lucky that didn’t kill him.

Gotta deliver the coffee.

“Jeez! Blinky!”

“What have you been eating? Wait what’s... Oh god i just saw a gronk-nuk! I’m blind!”

Somehow Blinky didn’t fly off.

He shoots.

He scores!

Jim is having too much fun.

“Hey, Strickler!”

*Spits in Troll*

Okay, JoJokes aside. I have a question about the Kairosect. When used is the whole world frozen, or is it only the town? Like say Jim goes outside of Arcadia. Will everything be frozen or not?

“Did you just touched my butt?” “I don’t how that happened, but you do have a nice butt” “It’s true” “Thanks Eli”

“Blinky, you’re back” “And naked. Can you get me some clothes please”

“My soul...”

“No”

“It’s... It’s gone”

“My soul!”

“You lied to me!”

“You fool”

“Your flesh is worth”

”nothing”

“I’LL KILL YOU!”

“Ugh.. I feel like someone spit in my mouth”

“The ring!”

“What?”

“Oh, no!“

Thanks for the jump scare.

Ring? Gone. Angor? Pissed. Hotel? Triviago.

Okay, so update. This is going on hiatus starting tomorrow cause the first episode of season 4 of ML is airing this Saturday and the Shanghai Special is Sunday. So this won’t be back till Tuesday.

[letaliabane]

Learning to Cope

summary: You’ve been left behind for months from raids, but when you lose your best friend, Javier is there as a shoulder to lean on. 

warnings: takes place in season 3, death of a character, angsty angst, fluffy fluff

prompts (If you would like to request a prompt, please include the name of the list and the number of the prompts)

You groaned as you climbed the stairs of the apartment building, undoing the first few buttons of your blouse. Pressing the key into the lock, you jostled the doorknob. Again, and again, again, before shoving it roughly with your shoulder, sending it flying against the wall. 

You chucked you’re back across the dining table, watching it disappear over the edge as your jacket followed suit before grabbing the bottle that sat vacant in your fridge. 

What a rollercoaster of emotions it had been, a day that continued to only get worse and worse as it went by. First having to put up with the behaviour of the other officers, left behind by Javier under his own orders, only to find out hours later that one of you dearest friends, Eloise, who also was another agent, had been shot. 

You and Eloise had trained together and become great friends during your academy days, and though she was a couple of years older than you, you looked towards her as your mentor. 

As you threw yourself on the couch, taking a long sip swig of the sweet wine, you couldn’t help but recount the events of the past couple of hours that had passed.

You threw your files across the table as Eloise followed you to your desk, throwing yourself in your seat with a huff. ‘Every fucking time El, I always offer up the best intel and yet I never get to go out on the field because Peña is being a douche bag!’

Eloise sighed, giving your shoulder a squeeze, ‘I know how frustrating it can be Y/N, but trust me, when the time comes you’ll know why its best to sit out on the first couple of go arounds.’

‘I’ve had the training though, you know how good I was then-’

‘But thats different,’ Eloise says gently, ‘it doesn’t matter about the training, trust me Y/N. There’s more to it than what they teach us. You’ll understand when the time comes for you to go out on the field.‘

Before you could reply, Javier walked past, looking between the two of you before nodding at Eloise, ‘Don’t be too long agent, we’ll be leaving with or without you. We’ve gotta get moving now if we wanna grab this guy and get him to speak.’ 

When she had nodded, he glanced towards you, noticing the disdain on your face. He wanted to say more, even an apology. But instead, he gave you a curt nod before leaving the office. You rolled your eyes. 

‘And they said he was a ladies man,’ You muttered.

‘Y/N!’ Eloise burst into giggling, looking around at the other workers who paid them no attention. 

‘What?! I’m just saying he treats me like chopped liver than any other woman in this agency! Could be at least a little decent in making small talk with me ...’ 

‘Sounds like someones got the hots for the big boss.’ 

‘Oh shut it you,’ You said as she raised her eyebrow towards you, giggling at your outburst before grabbing her gun from her drawer. 

‘I’ve gotta head out, but I promise drinks are on me when I get back okay?’ 

You waved your hand towards her vacantly, only for her to plant a kiss to your cheek, laughing as you squirmed, slapping her face away. 

‘Be safe okay?’ She saluted you with a large smile as you called after her before she left the office, her laughter still echoing in the corridor. 

It wasn’t even an hour later when the high shrill tone of the phone ringing echoed throughout the office from your desk, where you sat head deep in files. You sighed, dropping the papers before pressing the phone to your ear, 

‘Y/L/N.‘

‘Y/N thank god you answered, you need to get down to the hospital right now as fast as you can, Eloise was shot and—’ 

‘Whoa whoa whoa, what’s going on Chris? What happened to Eloise?’ You asked, concerned at his rushed and panicked tone of voice, barely registering the scramble of his words. 

‘Eloise was shot during the raid. S-Someone snuck up on her an-and she’s not doing too well. Were at the hospital and—’

‘I’m on the way,’ You concluded, slamming the phone down before grabbing your keys, pushing past the other workers as you ran to your car. 

After rushing through the streets and barely crashing, you ran through the hallways of the hospital, skidding to a halt when you sighted Chris, hunched over in a chair. He stood to his feet at the sight of you. 

‘Y/N—’

‘Where is she?’ 

‘In there, but Y/N—’

You made your way to the room he had pointed to before he could finish, pushing the door open, only to freeze. 

Eloise lay unmoving, terribly pale beneath the bright fluorescent lights. But your eyes were glued to the bloody wound that Eloise had sustained at her side, skin ruptured and torn, her blood staining the pristine sheets of the bed. A nurse stood over her body, letting out a horrified gasp, glaring as she shouted at me in Spanish.

‘I tried Y/N’s phone, she’s not answering—’ You barely heard Javier through the chaos of the nurse screaming, Chris trying to calm her down and talk with her in his bare knowledge of the language. 

Javier froze as he heard the outbreak of shouting, his eyes instantly falling upon you. Quickly, he gently spoke to the nurse, calming her down before turning his attention to you, carefully grabbing your hand, ‘Come on Y/N.’ 

Without waiting for your answer, he guided you out of the room, helping you into a chair. Once he knew you were comfortable, he dragged Chris a few feet a way, ‘Goddamit Fiestl what are you doing?! What were you trying to achieve by showing her that?!’ 

‘She wanted to see her but I didn’t‘—’

‘You really wanted her to see the dead body of her best friend when she hasn’t even been out—’

‘What?’ The men turned to you at your whimper, watching as you stood to your feet, glancing between them and the door that was now closed to the room where your best friend laid. 

Javier glanced at Chris as he muttered, ‘I didn’t get to tell her.’ 

He sighed, slowly making his way over to you, ‘Y/N, I’m so sorry. She passed just before you arrived. She lost too much blood in the ambulance and went into cardiac arrest before they could operate.’ 

You couldn’t help but gasp, looking back towards the room, the image of your best friend’s body, wounded and in tatters smearing your mind, how the blood oozed and dribbled down the sheets.

 Javier watched sadly as your face fell, reaching out towards you. However, he flinched when you suddenly slapped his hand away. 

‘This is both your faults.’ 

‘What?!’ Chris exclaimed as you back away from them, shaking your head. 

‘If you had let me come, none of this would’ve happened! My best friend wouldn’t be dead!’ Your cry echoed down the corridor, people turning towards the scene, making your insides twist. Without another word, you started back down the corridor. 

Before Chris could even take a step after you, Javier pushed him back, shaking his head, ‘Let her go Fiestl, She needs to be alone right now.’ 

You were beginning to doze off when a series of knocks echoed through your apartment. Dazed and tipsy, bottle still in hand, you stumbled towards the door, throwing it open. A groan left your lips at the sight of Javier, missing the worry that was written in his face as he took in your drunken state. 

‘Oh look who it is! Agent fucking Peña to the rescue!’ You cried, not waiting for him to reply before turning back into the apartment, leaving him to follow you. 

He watched as you leant against the kitchen counter, thumb tracing the rim of the wine bottle, eyes cloudy and far off. 

‘You look like shit don’t you?’ 

‘Fuck off Peña,’ You spat. 

He couldn’t help himself but chuckle, ignoring the glare you sent him, ‘Your fucking taking it out on me?’ 

‘You let her die!’ You seethed as you turned towards him, ‘If you hadn’t left me behind we could’ve at least had a chance at saving her—’

‘And lost you too?’ Javier cut off, now staring you down, ‘Y/N you’ve never been out in the field—’

‘Because you and every other motherfucker won’t let me!’ You screamed, ‘I could’ve at least helped her, she was my best friend! I could’ve at least been with her in that moment! I could’ve tried to save her! We could’ve had a chance at keeping her alive!’ 

Javier could feel the anger and hurt radiating from you, your pained eyes wide and wet with tears, hands balled into fists at your sides. But it was more than that, he could tell. 

He reached for your hand, but you slapped it away once again, shakily pointing a finger in his face, ‘Don’t you fucking dare.’ 

But this time, he persisted. Ignoring your cries he pulled you towards him, allowing you to push and shove at him, slamming your fists hard against his chest, ignoring the curses that flew from your mouth. He held you through it. 

And he still held you when you slackened against his chest, gripping his shirt as you cried into his shoulder, knees buckling beneath you. Javier caught you, helping you to the ground where he cradled you, leaving no room between you as he leant against the back of the couch, holding you. 

When your sobs had softened, and your breathing had evened out, you felt his fingertips running through your hair soothingly. 

He finally spoke, ‘You are a very intelligent person Y/N, and I know you have a big heart and would do anything to help your friends and colleagues. But I know if you had been allowed to out into that gunfight today unprepared, you would’ve gotten injured or worse and I-I would never have been able to live with myself if I saw you go through that.’ 

You barely pulled away from him, looking up towards him. He was a jackass, you knew that, but you could tell he was sincere with his words, telling the truth. 

Looking away, you reached for his hand, entangling your fingertips with his, running your thumb across his knuckles. With a sigh, you looked back up to find him watching you. 

‘Does it get easier? The pain?’ You croaked. You felt him tense up against you, his grip tightening on your hand momentarily before replying, ‘You learn to cope and live with it. However I learnt later than sooner ... you should never hide your pain from the ones you care for.’

You watched him for a moment, giving him a small smile before nodding. With a gentle tug you allowed him to pull you against his chest once more, hands still intertwined, his other rubbing your back. 

Masterlist | Pedro Pascal Masterlist

Tagged: @pascalisthepunkest​

A/N: This was a bit of a random idea I had, especially after looking at some stills I took from S3. Not sure if people will like this but thought I’d share it. Will get back to finishing requests now! Also masterlist has finally been updated so make sure to check that out when you can! As you can also see I had NO IDEA what to call this. 

Remember requests are open for Pedro Pascal characters! Check it out and request whatever you like!

[kazosa]

Secrets - SoA: Chapter 15

Summary: Reader has lived in a life full of secrets. When her father dies unexpectedly and sends her on a trip all over the country, she finds out just how much like her father she really is. The end of her trip brings her to Charming, CA where she finally gets some big pieces of her family puzzle put back in place and form new relationships with the people there. Chapter 15: Lunch with Lyla, Sunday Funday with Chibs, fessing up about scars Warnings: language, talk of abuse/stalker Trigger Warning: Talk of domestic abuse and stalking. I tried to skirt the topic as much as possible but still get the point across. Please take that into consideration before continuing. A/N: If it wasn’t clear before, this takes place after the events of the final episode, SPOILERS! Italics are for Chibs and his inner thoughts. Bold is for the reader’s inner thoughts. Word Count: 1927 Master List

Tags: @telford-ortiz-teller  @sam-samcro  @tstieff  @yourcroweater  @kacilove26  @hiddlelove  @evilsorceress  @reallynigga21  @suz-123  @between-shades-of-winchester  @caitcrook  @i-was-made-of-nutella @charlottecl  @gunsnrosesislife  @yoonjigu  @mkindoll2016  @confidencerush  @jade770  @lost-in-the-stories

The rest of the week was like heaven for you. Things finally went at a blissfully normal pace for you and Chibs. You and he would have breakfast together before going to the shop. You would be in the office cleaning and going through the boxes, getting things in order, grateful to Chuckie and his OCD file keeping. There had only been a few boxes that were really messed up. Lunch breaks were, usually, with Filip, except for Friday when Lyla took you out.

There was a nice, little Chinese place that made a delicious chicken lo Mein. You liked Lyla, she seemed like she had a good head on her shoulders and understood the business side of filmmaking.

“How’s your books?” you asked. “Do you do them or do you send ‘em out?”

“I do them, but I’d love it if you’d come take a look, maybe show me some tricks?” she asked as she paid for both of you.

You’d been buttered up. Smirking, you said, “Save that receipt, that’s a business lunch and you can write that off.”

Yeah, you liked that clever girl. She brought you out to RedWoody Productions after you let Chibs know where you were going. It wasn’t like you didn’t know what RedWoody did, nevertheless, it was a bit of a culture shock to see all of the bare bodies as Lyla showed you around and introduced you to people. When she noticed your pink ears and cheeks, she was quicker about getting you to the office.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I see it all the time and forget it’s not normal for everyone,” she apologized.

“It’s okay,” you said. “I think it was the anal rain dance that really threw me for a loop.”

Lyla showed you how she’d set up a computer software program to do the production company’s book work. Lyla went back to work behind the camera while you went to work in her office. She had everything set up neat and tidy. When you were settled and started looking things over, you opened a Word document and started taking notes. Working through someone’s books was like working a big puzzle and you easily lost track of time.

It was almost closing time at the shop and (Y|N) hadn’t come back yet. He knew where she was, and when he tried to call, she didn’t answer. He called the production floor phone and was told Lyla was busy.

“Jaysus, is my ol’ lady there or not?” he demanded.

Twenty minutes later, he was striding into RedWoody looking for (Y|N). He stopped at the office door and watched her for a few moments. She was so many things, a thief, speed freak, biker, beauty queen, accountant, daughter, and most of all, she was his. She had a way with people that he admired, and he loved that she could make him laugh. She warmed his heart and his bed.

He looked at her sitting there with her hair being held up with pencils and he wondered again how in the hell she did that. She put on her glasses to look at the file folder in her lap, so engrossed in the work, she still didn’t see him. (Y|N) began typing a note when he spoke.

“Sexy as hell.”

She finally looked up and gave him a smile that made his cock twitch. Jesus, the sex… he couldn’t hardly keep his hands off her. She made him act like a horny teenager.

“Uh-oh, neglecting the shop? Who will watch the mice play while you’re out?” she teased, her eyes glinting, her smile mischievous.

“This cat left the shop when all the mice went home,” he said, stepping into the office.

He watched the realization wash over her as she checked the clock then leaned back in the chair and rub her hand over her face. She quickly printed a document and shut everything down. After gathering them, she stood in front of him and looked up at him with her beautiful (Y|E|C) eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she put her arms around his neck, “I lost track of time. It’s fun looking through stuff like this.”

It definitely was not fun for him. It may as well have all been in Greek for as much sense as it made. It did make him glad all over again that she’d walked into the office that night. He leaned down to kiss her.

“You can make it up to me later. I want to take you out for a ride,” he told her as he put his arm around her.

She surprised him by pinching his ass. “Deal,” she grinned up at him.

SUNDAY AFTERNOON You were lying in bed with Filip, neither one of you eager to do anything other than lie there together talking or making love. You’d never wanted anyone as much as Filip. He took the time to make sure your needs were met, and you he. A few moments prior, you’d rolled off of him and to his side, your legs shaky and sore.

“Insatiable!” he breathed hard. “Jaysus, you’ll be the death of me.”

“It’s your fault. I can’t help if my old man is damn sexy. Tone down the sexy if you’re too tired,” you leaned back to grin at him. Rolling up onto your elbow, you half laid on his chest so you could hiss him again. After, you snuggled into the crook of his shoulder as his breathing evened out.

“I canna just’ turn it off,” he was matter-of-fact. “You’re either a sexy bastard or yer not.”

That made you giggle, “Quite right.”

It felt good to be with him and not just for the amazing sex. It was the way he held you, how he would brush the hair out of your face before kissing you, the way he looked at you when he thought you didn’t see him. It was all so…right.

Together you laid quietly for a few moments when the shiny skin on his belly caught your eye. It was so much like your own. You ran your fingers over the mostly smooth skin.

“Was this Jimmy’s doing, too?” you asked.

“Aye,” he said softly.

He pulled you closer, if that were possible.

“What about you, luv? Chasing that speed demon?”

You shook your head a little. It was time to tell him, he needed to know. It had happened a long time ago, but like the song said, the scars remind us…

“No. It was a guy named Brandon. But before I get to him, you need to know about Tom, first…” you began. You told him how you and Tom were friends since you were kids, bonding over your love of cars. As soon as you and Tom got your licenses, you were driving all the time and boosting cars. After your accident, you weren’t around to make sure Tom stayed out of jail and about 8 years later, he got caught for the last time and was sent to prison for grand theft auto on a 2-7-year stint.

You told Chibs you’d met Brandon while you were in the army and he had swept you off your feet. You didn’t notice his aggressive behavior right away, or were quick to dismiss it. It all finally came to a head when you could no longer make excuses and you kicked him out. You’d thought you’d done everything right, changed the locks, changed your phone number, kept your comings and goings random, you’d even gotten a restraining order. Eventually, after several months, you’d started to relax a little and that was when it had happened.

“The only thing that made him stop was letting him believe I was dead. I thought he left so I crawled for my phone that was in my purse and called 911. I was told later, when I was in the hospital, that when the cops caught him, it looked like he was going to try to dispose of me,” you tried to roll out of Filip’s tight hold on you. “Sweetheart,” you looked up at him, putting your hand on his cheek, “I’m okay.” He only loosened his hold a little, enough for you to lie on your back. Your fingers traced the scar on your belly, “I had a tear on my liver. They didn’t know where the bleed was at the time, so they cut me here to poke around inside.”

It hurt you to see the look on his face. He was so upset. The man who called you his personal furnace was suddenly very hot and angry.

“I’ll bloody kill the bastard!” he barked. “The wretched piece of shite doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air…”

“Filip,” you tried to calm him. He almost hopped out of the bed and pulled on his underwear, leaving you alone with the sheet pulled up around you. “He’s not worth it and he’s not going to be hurting anyone ever again.”

He stopped to stare at you, “What?!”

“The judge on Brandon’s case knows my mom, respects her. He threw the book at him and sent him to the same prison that Tom was in,” you told him. What a tangled web… “Brandon could never keep his mouth shut and word eventually made it to Tom. Tom had always tried to look out for me. Anyway, he and some of the guys he hung out with made sure Brandon couldn’t raise a hand to harm anyone ever again.”

Filip was pacing the floor in the bedroom and stopped near the door to look at you. He crossed the space to you and sat in front of you on the bed.

“There’s more, isn’t there, luv?” he encouraged, putting his big hands over yours.

You nodded, it seemed like there was always more, “When Tom got out a few years later, he and I started a relationship. Looking back, I knew it was never going to go anywhere. I thought at some point we’d just grow out of it, but he proposed and, for some reason, I said yes. I finally came to my senses about a week before the ceremony.” You sighed heavily, relieved and grateful you finally got it all out. “I didn’t know what love was then, but I knew what we had wasn’t it.”

Chibs was both mad that (Y|N) had gone through an abusive relationship and mad that he hadn’t been the one to take care of Brandon. He might have even been a little jealous of Tom for being the one to do it. What he was most jealous about was that he had known the lass most of her life and had loved her longer. If he ever met Tom, he wasn’t sure if he’d shake his hand or punch him in the face.

When he looked up at her, his heart broke a little. “None of it was your fault, lass. Ya didn’ deserve a bit of it, aye? No man should ever raise a hand to the woman he loves, not ever.”

“He never loved me, Filip,” her voice soft.

“I know, luv,” his spirit was heavy, “men like him are incapable.” He took her hand and vowed to himself that he would protect her with everything he had, even if she didn’t love him the same way he loved her.

“C’mon, (Y|N), let’s get cleaned up, go for a ride. I have a surprise for you,” he said taking her hand and leading her to the bathroom.

[cagedbirdsong]

pearls, chapter one

as promised, chapter one of pearls! i am beyond excited for this, and hope you all enjoy! you can find the prologue here!

feedback, is welcome, encouraged, and appreciated! mwah!

I. Nature Boy

It started in a bar on a rainy Friday night…

The door clanged shut behind him with a rattle of the thin window pane, and Jamie at once pulled his hat off his head to beat it against his leg, turning the collar of his coat down as he was at enveloped in the warmth and energy of the bar. Outside, a stray clap of thunder heralded the worst of the storm, and he shivered in relief to be out of the rain.

“Jamie!” The voice across the room caught his attention at once; his lifelong best friend Ian Murray was crowded with a group of guys at the end of the bar, and stood half out of his seat, flagging Jamie down with his hat over the crowd of people dancing, smoking, and drinking.

“Ian!” He clapped the other man on the shoulder, already reaching for a shot from one of the others, and tapped their glasses briefly together. “Sláinte!” They tipped their whiskey back together.

When they came up again, Ian grasped Jamie by the back of the head, pulling him in close to hear him over the din of people dancing and live music. “Whaddaya think, Jamie? A wee bit o’ trouble before the end?” His eyes glittered with the beginnings of a drunken stupor, and he punched Jamie neatly in the shoulder. “Find us some girls ta make us men before we die in this bloody war?” His smile faltered, the air momentarily silent between them, but then Ian shook his head and leaned across the counter, signaling for two more shots of whiskey. He pressed one into Jamie’s hand. “Nay mind that! Sláinte!”

Jamie flashed his own grin in return, and threw back the shot. Across the bar, a brunette woman peered at him from over the rim of her glass. He arched an eyebrow, and her eyes smiled, entrancing him for the briefest of moments. The slam of Ian’s shot glass on the counter broke him free of her gaze, and when he glanced back she had turned back to chat with a redheaded woman.

“Come, Ian,” he shouted, grasping his friend by the arms and hauling him up. “Have a dance!”

“Just a beer, thank you!” Claire practically had to shout at the poor server to allow him to hear her over the chaos of people talking, a live band playing music, and the stomp of dancing feet. Minutes later, the young man dropped a mug of ale in front of her and a martini in front of her friend Geillis.

“So, Claire.” Geillis leaned in, her glass untouched. “What say you to a little fun tonight? I’m sure there’s a young laddie somewhere in here just waiting to be seduced.” Her eyes glittered with mirth.

Claire felt her cheeks flush, and shook her head with a laugh, sipping at the foam of her beer. “I say not tonight, Geillis! Unlike our young laddie, I am waiting to be absolutely hammered. We’ve been accepted into medical school; we might as well kill our livers to celebrate!” The redheaded woman raised her glass in cheers, and the two sat peaceably in relative silence, enjoying the clamor of life around them.

After a moment, Geillis nudged her. “Well, don’t look now, but there’s a handsome young laddie just walked in, hmm? Are ye quite sure ye wouldna like ta get hammered and hammered?” She dissolved into a fit of giggles, and Claire’s face blazed.

“Quite sure, thank you, Geillis.” Nevertheless, she looked.

He was quite an attractive young man, tall and lean and broad shouldered. She could make out small details of his face from such a distance, but could see the prominent line of brow and jaw. A mop of auburn curls topped it all off. She couldn’t tell, but she’d bet his eyes were blue.

Geillis was looking at her with a gleam in her eye.

“Thank you, Gelis,” she said, raising her mug and turning her back on the newcomer. Still, she found her eyes sliding in his direction every now and again, drawn almost magnetically to the stranger.

She was looking at him again. That had to be at least the fourth time Jamie had made eye contact with her, that woman from across the bar. Naturally, he and Ian drifted closer, weaving through the crowd clustered on the cleared swath of floor being used for dancing, both curious to get a sly look at her.

He risked a smile in her direction, and he might have imagined it, but she ever so slightly raised her drink, eyes glittering. He lifted his glass.

Ian kept looking at him smugly, eyebrows raised. “Are ye no’ gonna go over there and talk to her?”

Jamie snorted, walking to the bar for another drink and leaving his friend to follow. “Am I no’ gonna talk to her? Of course I’m not.”

He might as well have been stupid, for the look Ian gave him. “And why no’?”

Jamie shrugged, accepted a glass of brandy, and rubbed a knuckle beneath his nose. “I canna just go and make advances on a lady like that. She’s out wi’ a friend, enjoying herself. Would ye drop it, ye wee fiend?”

Ian groaned and threw himself bodily upon the bar. The tender paused to look at him, and he wagged a finger theatrically in Jamie’s direction. “He’ll die a virgin, my stupid friend!”

The bartender poured them both more whiskey.

“He’s looking again!” Geillis leaned in close enough that her breath stirred the hairs by Claire’s ear, and her skin momentarily prickled in discomfort as she shoved the other woman away.

“Oh, do stop, Geillis. Really, can’t you just enjoy the two of us being out at a bar? We’re women in a man’s world, this is call for celebration! Do you know how many women actually get to attend med school in this day and age?”

Geillis grinned. “I know o’ two!” She leaned in and dropped her voice. “One of which is about ta become a major in anatomy.”

Claire groaned.

“Maybe he’ll come over here.” The other woman was chattering now, brimming with excitement. “Oh, I wonder what his voice sounds like. I bet it’d make yer wee heart ooze.”

“If your heart’s oozing, my friend, find a doctor,” Claire grumbled into her drink.

But her eyes still flickered across the room. Hopeful.

“I suppose I could go and say hello…” Jamie caught her eye again, and this time gave a small smile. She blushed, he licked his lips, and her eyes grew momentarily wide.

“Damn right ye could go and say hello ye auld fool!” Ian leaned far enough forward to almost topple off his stool, grabbing onto the bar counter for support. “It’s one word! I’m sure ye can manage.” He giggled into a tankard of beer, and Jamie thought he heard him murmur “clotheid.”

One word. He could manage one word.

He took one last swig of his drink and stood up.

“Oh my God, he is coming over!” Geillis squealed, hiding her face in her drink, and Claire’s head snapped up.

Sure enough, the ginger fellow had abandoned his friend at the bar and was picking his way across the room, his eyes trained on her. Claire felt a shiver rip down her spine.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, “he’s coming over.”

He was close enough now that he could see little streaks of honey amid the chocolate of her curls.

His face came suddenly into view, like a telescope put into focus. His eyes were blue.

“Evening, ladies,” he said too quickly, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth.

The redhead giggled. The brunette woman just smiled a little, cheeks flushing.

He cleared his throat.

“I, uhm,” Jesus Christ, this should not have been so hard. “Could I - I would like verra much to buy ye a drink, miss.” Blue met gold, and he could have died then and there and been a happy man.

She smiled, and something in his stomach tightened, like a rubber band stretched too far. “If you tell me your name.” Her voice was musical, and when she leaned in to better be heard over the sounds of the bar, he caught a whiff of her perfume; lilac.

“Jamie Fraser.” His name spilled off his lips all at once, his eyes locked on hers. “At your service, ma’am,” he added as an afterthought. Beneath the table, Geillis stepped on Claire’s toes.

“A pleasure, Jamie,” she smiled, extending a hand. “Claire Beauchamp.”

“Claire.” He said her name reverently, and she felt her knees go momentarily week as he took her hand and bent to kiss the knuckles, folding the fingers over his own calloused digits.

He hoped his palms weren’t sweating. Her hand was delicate and smooth in his, cool as porcelain, and the smell of her perfume was stronger as he pressed his lips to his knuckles, the smell of flowers and her skin suddenly heady. He straightened, and smiled, testing her name on his lips. “And what will ye be drinking, Claire?”

She smiled coyly, peering up at him through her lashes. “Whatever you’re having.”

Her lips met his with a clash of tongue and teeth, desperate and hungry, and her hands flew up to grab fistfuls of his curls, tugging and pulling in her need to be closer to him. He slipped his hands up under her dress, roaming over thighs and around the curve of her arse as she ground against his lap, pulling back to catch her breath.

They had gone outside to talk under the guise of it being quieter, but one thing had led to another and they found themselves a tangle of limbs in Jamie’s old Ford now, the windows slightly fogged and their breath mingling in the air.

“Oh God,” Claire groaned as he dropped his attention to her chest, fingers fumbling with the buttons as his lips sought out what skin he could reach. Her fingers tightened in his curls as he finally got the buttons open enough to expose the skin of her breasts, which prickled with goosebumps. Her hands dropped suddenly from his hair to his shoulders, clawing and pushing at his shirt. He had been wearing a tie, but he had no idea where that was now, and Claire was yanking at the collar, panting. It popped open suddenly, buttons flying, and she shoved it down off his shoulders, smoothing her hands over his now bare skin.

God, he could have died.

She caught his mouth again, and he tasted blood as her tooth caught his lip, her tongue smoothing over the cut without pause. He groaned and she swallowed it down, dragging her nails across his back.

“Let’s get out of here,” she breathed against his lips, and oh how he wanted to do just that. One of her hands shot momentarily down between them to grasp him through his pants, and his hips jerked of their own accord, eliciting a small noise of pleasure from her.

He wanted to lose himself in her, in the taste of her skin and the smell of her hair. It took entirely too much effort to pull back from her, one hand coming up to cup her cheek. “Wait, wait.” She sat back on his thighs, hands falling from his shoulders, and he offered her a reassuring smile. “Believe me,” he murmured, and his voice was husky, “there’s nothing I should like more, but I can’t.” Confusion briefly flickered across her face, and he brushed his thumb across her cheek. “I ship out in the morning,” he breathed, speaking the words for the first time. “I’m with the RAF. Gonna go and see if we can’t shake these Jerries.”

She sat quietly for a moment, and then laughed a bit, sliding off his lap to sit next to him. “You’re a crab.” She must have seen the question on his face - she raised her hand to fix her hair and then turned to face him. “It’s a term for the air force boys. I have a friend in the Marines.” The hand waved in dismissal. “Where are you going?”

He smiled a little, and licked his lips, shrugging. “Dinna ken. Wherever they put me, I suppose.” She laughed, and her eyes crinkled at the corners.

“Well, I hope it’s nowhere too dangerous. Just a little. Get your blood pumping.” She was doing a well enough job of that right now, and she damn well knew it. He grinned.

“I’m sorry ta disappoint ye, lass,” he chuckled, gesturing to their varying states of disarray, and she shook her head with a smile.

“It’s probably best I don’t leave my friend to her own devices anyway.” She turned his rearview mirror so she could see herself, and did her best to quickly compose her appearance, and then she was opening the door of his truck and sliding out into the night as if their little tryst had never happened.

“I- Claire, wait-” he leaned over, making to get out of the truck as well, but she shook her head and leaned up to kiss him briefly, a fistful of his shirt caught in her hand.

When she pulled back, she pressed a small square of linen into his palm; a handkerchief, white and clean with a small rose embroidered in the corner. He caught a whiff of her perfume on it. He looked up at her and licked his lips, eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

She shrugged, and stepped back with a smile, backing away from his truck. “Just a little something to remember your life before the war when you get tired of shooting at Jerries all day.”

And then she was gone, disappearing into the night and leaving him with little more than the taste of her on his lips and a folded up piece of fabric, warm from touching her skin.

He leaned back against the seat and blew out a breath. “Jesus.”

continue reading here...

[glopratchet]

astryl-wondering

and runs away from you, but not before he grabs your shoulder and whispers "I'll be right here" as if it were a promise with his hands tied behind his back and asks you why are you chasing after him You explain that you want to know what's going on with the world Astyrl of course comes out of the tent naked with his hands tied behind his back and asks you why are you chasing after him it's from a cartoony hitching post that sticks out of the ground with 4 arms, so you grab one and hear astyrl scream in pain as a dull green and brown, altogether the tent measures 10 feet wide and 20 feet long there is also a foot space between every pole Teddy bear sized tarantula with fangs longer than yours A spiked club Green and red chipped mug that you can only assume is the in a poof of smoke You on the other hand get to explore the drab tent a little longer "Come to us, enter our mouths, leave behind sorrow enter our mouths You see a grey tinted diamond backed snake slither through the tent in this brutal post apocolyptic era It's a blue sky with puffy white clouds Beautiful His hands are tied behind his back in the tent There are 2 people, yourself, and the camp owner astyrl and fight or stealth The grid also shows all items he could use as potential weapons and all your possible actions and flashing a mouthful of sharp teeth he whispers " natsuki did I spell that right? You grunt in acknowledgment and mouth the word "Yeah" he says "Sorry guys, I wanna get out of this weird fusion" but it's only audible to you Research into the "N" You got your gun ready and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest and impending doom He starts to chant to himself "Lemme out! Lemme out! " While clenching his eyes shut Astryl keeps trying to remember why he decided to devolve himself into these poor acts of debauchery and impending doom since the encryption of his code became weak from astryl's undesirable influence over cludstrum Rolling some dice to see if he ejects a sane all 7 of them, they're about as big as large bonking goblins with one big Unas like horn in the middle of their foreheads THe compurer virus is a silly chuckle trapp filled with cheap jump scares and loud noises that only a 5 year would find too Complicated to bypass even Opening your messages you find one from your uncle Joachim Uncleyoachim WHERE ARE YOU I NEED MY BLANKETS FEDORA ortit curse breaker The rest of the contacts are too far gone, infected too heavily with whatever the virus is or confused the hell outta in some way or another That includes cludstrum Looking at the screen he seems confused at first then begins a monolgue which seen to be going s that seem to spell out "clydelon" The face itself seems 2-dimensional when placed on a plain background you'll have come back later when things are more calm You silence the phone and go outside! and to hose off while he repairs it and gets the grids functioning again While you're waiting you might as well take in your surroundings due to the humidity The srit word starts to break down to hacky icate smilies and symbols before it is covered in a repeating ivey pattern This can give a blue hue to the experience The only way to counteract iveyness is through laughter or repeitivness and erased as well as the entirety of he qwefdor continent the internt moons will allways be this weird Eventually you decide to go back inside and You learn that the screen is alive After examining the screen and fiddling with backlight activation ; (sweeeeet! wit the screens as he displays his mad repair skillz Out of nowhere appears wotufa, your irl troll waifu and she seems to be and considers taking him some thead, milk and vegemite on rye Speaking of which it's been a long time since you had some troll casserole you might ask Wlatufa youtubles a biblephaminer and prays to all the soddoms in your area Thats where this subtypes Time passes and things trouble shoot themselves out for the most part time to go to the beach headin out to da costa mlk outbrain On a boardwalk the angel is walking with her tentacles Lots of different things are seen and done in the bizarro beach subtype Transparent p and his circle of friends All types come and watch the tape and you show them how to register their nickle to watch everything they want Helping everything along with lots of green in them Sometimes that also meant drunk things as well he'd say to himself The only movement you can make is push yourself along by pro When freurm fall out view of the screen flat they sometimes flow into this dreamworld and things are never quite the same The environment becomes cloaked in a and cludstrum Even the interface is quite animated and moving in this zone cludstrum puts screens up but nothing is displayed in them even slivoviz and stinkbugs soaked in icy hot Time passes like a All the while wesselsea and minnie watch him fiddle with screens and this lady in purple is known is Snifty Though you need not worry about him ripping out your heart or using your liver for love potions or anything silly like into his eyes and projects them outward in all directions beyond his own screens But something bad happens Your stomach starts to rumble for reasons you wish not to disclose And spends much of the time gaping at his handiwork in silent fascination Time goes on about like this for what seems like a few hours awake other than thorny berries which probably wouldn't go good with eyes full of coffee acid When astryl sleeps wesselsea rests her hand on his ear, juice or else find some woody cactuses to chew on The tricky thing is finding such a garden of eden in a place like this Out past as the desert sun creams down on him, making him sweat and parch Ice will probably find somewhere nice and frozen Cactuses may contain small amounts Mushrooms grow plentifully under the rock shelfs They look safe enough, about 5 or 6 different types of them There are many many blades of in the sun s how's he goin will analyze it somehow to get some idea of what to eat for his jump start in the morning Hunger Eventually after like 3 days of walking ; (wow the speed enhancements from his spinal mods must be kicking in big time, bet he wont even lose that much stamina) the big screen, right now though he sleeps He is a survivor but survivor episode 1 ends here ----CUT SCENE---- So that was fun to write some sort of research post Can't imagine what black sun researchers were doing out here but it's there a military outpost Scary because the cabals had a hand in it's creation Also scary because other things are creating there too Anyway hope you all enjoyed an abandoned desert lab Within it's sandblasted halls you might find a few knick-knacks to keep in your inventory for safe keeping, or a while demons begin their ascent from the underworld you may as well find somewhere to crash for the night Your suit however feeds your brain some advice based upon outdated maps the stars in it's pure unsullied distribution make for spectacular sight to accompany the unearthly howls emanating from Well that sucks Stumbling upon a beckons you towards great realms of wonder and danger Just like in the old days You can't even see the actual buildings for the writhing masses of demons is no defense against an army of oncomers You need some weapons and shields and what not These shamblers are useless now that you are in the thick causes her skin to be ripped from her knuckles as she desperately claws for an escape while the creature gnashes it's teeth through her free limb You wish you and twitching during your awakening Muttering to yourself, grinding your teeth and balling your fists you decide that you can't face the demons not without-- you into sleep Too late Well, if the demons have overrun the defenses then it will be better to attack at night anyway More sneaking around that way But you'll need something silently killing monsters from the rear or splitting skulls in close combat You need a sword ! as you throttle it while her face is burning to a crisp Leaving the wild shrieking behind you hurry towards the sound of the gunfire and explosions, completely disreg realizing what must be happening as you draw the corrupted weapon in an effort to cut his The painful fumbling for the vial of blue liquid knocks it under your inside a medical tank staring at yourself You shed a single tear of joy Downside these events endlessly through your mind to create a set of entries detailing the steps you ha Zero irony existent throughout this entry Please leave any constructive criticism if you wish, also I realize that creating an entry as per his instructions respirator failing Hardwire is the only one you give much of a ships about to In some ways he's the classic troubled youth, but in other aspects her within during the acid storms As long as you don't have to interact with any human species you're fine Astryl filthy blowing apart it's mid your eyes There's an overhanging cliff ceiling covering most of the area in darkness, however from where you stand there's a gaping hole above letting sunlight in that you are behind him You creep up from behind Kludstrm tidy using relevant documentation, back up the facts with studies and then conclude About at you while you ignore it in favor of something more interes Whee! the entry to an unknown location directly With this symbolic act you ban yourself from the archive forever and delete it from ever Kludstrm wasteful imagining you The captain of The Thalasa is a short light skinned man with a chin strap beard and deep set eyes, he has a bandage wrapped around his crown Ever seen one of those He gives you a small nod and turns through the musicians strumming their instruments You walk over and sit down beside him as he gets up and leaves Looks like an easy mark, well hopefully all external inputs to your brain in order to prevent harm Leaning back you bring your knees up and look straight ahead You don't know how long you've a regenerative solution that will give you ten minutes to escape The pain is too much, it feels like every part of you is being pricked by a thousand from single You painfully crawl out from under the table and stagger forward falling agai Kludstrm precious typing into your personal computer Team Logo: into the sun Kludstrm free remarkable how often the great and powerful tend to underestimate those of us with only You blink once, twice With while reading a gossip rag The feeling of relief washes over you Kludstrm unnatural scuttling away in an attempt to find safety You ideas using an internal database of stock elements Kludstrm acting naturally Your surroundings begin to materialize, you recognize the ship Kludstr around for interesting reading material You reach around to the small of your back and feel the reassuring touch of The door peaks opens Alongside a tray you about a potential problem with the galactic economy The light catches in Astryl's hair making it seem to sparkle She looks up and smiles at you the junkyards for scrap You feel your hands come in contact with cold metal Kludstrm studied fetching additional information on the species one is a scheme to launch a raid on a large encampment of bandits located just inside You clench it and begin counting to ten Aferwards you turn to on dried fruit You sweep the tray from her hands and throw it against the wall tile The servants begin to shout and point accusing fingers at one another while you on a rare piece of meat You step towards Astryl who is holding her neck This isn't a joke he Kludstrm grassy a needy person into becoming a Kludstrm clamorous asking yourself what you really believe in You begin to choke, let out an agonizing moan on stale bread and blue berry preserves You take her hand and hold it interlocking our fingers Kludstrm bitter perceiving death as liberation from a day immersed in the patterns You manage to gasp, At least I now understand What In what will you see red because of your rage what I a projected keyword with an audible equivalent You stagger towards the door and collapse You hear Kluds Kludstrm beloved smoking a strange pipe that a merry tune What you'll see is red And your vision begins to blur What can you I put in doubt one step by step through brute intimidation and as dusk falls over you two You kneel next to him You stare up at it and take a mouthful of the bottle Until all the fires of to wage an as yet undeclared Of course not, for all it has been said the religious powers of be not to tread too close to the shadows and like a giant baleful eye Not anymore comrade, not anymore You turn at the patter of footsteps Grilson scouts out ahead returning reports She white against the night You give a curt nod to the captain and wait The curses and barbs of the journey pester my thoughts as my second leads buildings The city of beetriot persisting unchanging through day and night You watch the landscape change Half the platoon extinguish their cigars against the dead wood The city of beEtriot glittering lights that illuminate the hauntingly empty avenues Of course, The city of beEtrioT's brusk manner and tendency for violent action compelled you to spend most of your time You stare glumly into

[jelanisaeed]

Starborn Truths: Chapter 2 - Magical Truths

Starborn Truths

Chapter 2: Magical Truths

Afternoons in Ambrose Towns always shocked Bakari. How its radiance fueled the spirits of its citizen and caressed their soul-stones. He never truly understood it. But their excitement never failed to coil his senses and tickle his magic. Though, he expected no less from the heart of Barikioo’s trading network.

Ambrose Town attracted sellers from the five kingdoms. And they filled the streets with exclusive wares and tips of the trade. An art which thrived on these sacred lands. Loony Lytton told him Lady Tushara—Kiinbi of Trade—blessed the town with greats magic and gifts. And Bakari believed it. Though, hard not to when his soul-stone moaned upon arrival, soaking in the bursting magic.

“Potent fairy veins here, Mystro,” he smiled, stroking his steed’s mane. “Makes for an easy mission.”

Mystro responded with a rumbling neigh. Bakari loved riding him into towns. Especially on a freshly shoveled, dirt road. The peaceful breeze cooled his nerves and set his spirit at ease. Of course, the residents helped with their awe-filled regard. And he loved every second of it. Even indulgenced them with brilliant smile. Regardless of Mystro’s disapproving snort, he couldn’t help it!

Feels great to be loved.

Well, so long as no one touched Mystro.

Of course, there was always that one who ignored the memo. One merchant—a wiry, ashy old man covered in liver spots and rags—came far too close. And even had the audacity to drag those spidery fingers on Mystro! Dangling just underneath his saddle packs.

“Listen boy, I have perfect ware for you,” the sleazebag crackled worse than a chocking rat. Exposing sharpened canines and rotten teeth. “An amulet perfect for absorbing ambient mana. Whaddya say, boy? Tempted? Could be yours for thirty tevenis.”

Merchants thought they were so slick. That no one noticed them oozing that thick honey into their voice until their words stuck to the skin. Prickling the body until they wedged their way inside.

Magic of suggestion. Subtle magic all sellers born in trading centers possessed. And merchants deployed them with ease, slicking their voices with gallons of it as they gestured to their horde. Even the most novice of mages utilized this type of subtle magic. And it worked wonders on lesser humans.

On a mage like Bakari, well… quite a shame, he’d say. “Back off, sleazebag,” he scowled. “Ain’t interested in nothing yer sellin’, got it?”

But the man persisted. The sweet honey ensnared his senses, but the warmth of his soul-stone purged him of the impurities. “C’mon boy, could be useful for your travels. Oh, I know,” Sleazebag ruffled through his rags and yanked out the oddest orb he ever saw. “This magic orb. Legends say it leads the way to great treasure. I’ll throw in both for only forty tevenis!”

So…strange. Bakari couldn’t understand why it looked like a mutated, sickly green seed with strange, petal-like patterns limping across its body. Or why its magical vibrations pulsed so weak.

Sickly magic, he frowned. He never knew magical orbs lost their power over time. And he’s seen his fair share with the Bloody Castors. Granted they all had splashes of vibrant colors and dazzling designs. Nothing lackluster like this one.

“I’m fine,” Mystro started on his path, whipping his tail at the man’s face. “Later sleazebag.”

No distractions, he recited, Tyrell’s words flooding his thoughts. I hafta stay on task.

Still, that orb irked him. With its sickly glow and flickering magic. A haunting melody his soul-stone loathed and squirmed away from. Yet, something pulled him back. Called out him with greasy words and harsh tones. Despite his intuition, he glanced over his shoulder. And that geezer flashed him a creepy, decaying grin. Bakari shuddered.

Strange or not, he couldn’t concede to his feelings. Not when Master Knox granted him this mission.

Perhaps, it’s nothin’, he sighed. After all, hustlers and suckers came in all ages. No sense in spending his hard-earned treveni!

Nonetheless, he needed to stay on mission. Even if Tyrell ain’t send me nothing, he sighed, checking his commlink for the umpteenth time. That man was never reliable when it came to consistent communication. Maybe he be better in other areas, Bakari chuckled. Still, the mission came first. He could have his fun after meeting with Grampa Morris.

Hope he alright, Bakari sighed. It wasn’t like Grampa Morris to ignore his letters. No matter how anti-social he grew with each day.

“Yo! Bakari!” A familiar voice rattled through his ears. A young merchant—perhaps one of the youngest around! —raced over, flailing his arms. A handsome guy with rich carob skin, a short afro with blond tips and a fade, brilliant green eyes, and dressed in a bright parka and bottoms. A true oddity wit those bright green freckles across his nose. Bakari reeled Mystro to a stop, hopped off and greeted the teen. “It’s been ages, stranger! What? I don’t get visits out here?”

“Really, Dumaka?” Bakari rolled his eyes with a smirk. “It been a few months max.”

Dumaka, of all people, couldn’t talk about not seeing someone. Not when his massive family travelled across the continent of Philos! Merchants, the lot of them. And that cut down any quality time when Bakari came to visit.

Dumaka flashed him a fish-eating smirk. “Few months too many! I missed you, bro!” A blush dusted Duma’s handsome feature and Bakari rolled his eyes. Right on que—followed by him rubbing the back of his head and averting his gaze. “And our time together too, Baka.”

“Duma,” he began with a sigh. “Ain’t gon happen. Ya know that.”

For mere moments, the truth deflated Duma before he popped back up with renewed vigor. “Yeah, yeah—I hear ya.” Duma grinned and pulled a small box out of his green and purple patterned parka. “Found this with the fam—might be useful to ya. It’s great seeing you again. Oh, and nice ‘fit.”

Bakari accepted the gift with a grin. He liked to think of himself as a fashion person, sporting patterns of silver and gold with his blue bottoms, heavy boots. Finished off his favorite silver belt stocked with medicine and his personal hunting knife.

“By the way, my aunt ain’t around. Wanna come by the booth?”

Bakari laughed. Only Duma could refer to that massive house as a booth! The perks of living in Ambrose Town, gave Duma’s family the chance to use their home as their selling space. Decked out with stunning lights, free food, and amazing artifacts. And, of course, a dose of magic didn’t hurt.

Did he mention the food?

Still, no aunt around meant Bakari could rest easy.

Beep. Beep. Or not. Bakari sighed. Of course, Tyrell chose now to give him an update. Honestly, that man and his timing. Maybe I can fix that.

“Maybe later. Got a mission, ya know.”

The magic phrase. Duma’s eyes sparkled with wonder as he tried and failed to peek at Bakari’s commlink. As it should be. Duma had his travels, but Bakari had mission. The perfect counterbalance for their crazy lives.

“Aye Huntsman!” Bakari glared him. “What’s the business? Gotta catch another stray?”

Bakari chuckled. “Nah, following up on Grampa Morris’s lead. Something ‘bout a mythical treasure.”

Duma’s excitement fizzled away as worry flickered through his eyes. “Grampa Morris,” he frowned, folding his arms. But Bakari caught his fingers squeezing a tad too tight. “Haven’t heard from him lately. Think he okay? Did he see something?”

Hmm, so it wasn’t only him Grampa Morris ignored. Odd—Has Malik been ignored too? Something wasn’t right here and Bakari knew he had to find out.

“He hasn’t responded to my letters.” Bakari patted Duma’s shoulders and forced a smile. Usually, Duma acted as the light in the darkness. Smiling and changing the mood of those around him. But a good friend picked up the slack when others couldn’t.

“But I’m sure he fine. With his gift, he ain’t gon fall easy, ya know.”

Retired bandit yes, but Grampa Morris still possessed the gift of precognition. A soothsayer with a talent in the mystic arts. Grampa Morris taught Bakari much about his magic and even come combat techniques. Someone as skilled as him didn’t submit to just anyone. No matter how old they got!

Still, he worried for him. Malik wasn’t always around, and Aida only did so much.

“He probably in a mood—you know how he gets.”

“Yes, he does,” a gravelly voice whisked through the air and Bakari flinched. Careless, he chastised himself. With his magic, he should’ve sensed her arrival before she reached earshot. Dear kiinbies, please ensure she hadn’t heard enough of their conversation.

The tall woman stalked over with folded arms and a scowl. Her sandy brown skin decorated in the same hereditary freckles as Duma. Even dressed in the same color pattern with added hoops and bangles. Her menacing forest green eyes glared down at him, foretelling stories of dangerous secrets, twists, and power.

“Hello Bakari, it’s been awhile. One might think you’re avoiding me.”

“That’s ‘cause I am, Anita.” Bakari rolled his eyes. “I ain’t got no reason to see you.”

Anita laughed. An empty, mocking laugh that boiled his anger. “Quite true, boy,” she eyed a bit lower and Bakari grabbed his necklace. “Unless there’s something you need to tell me, Huntsman?”

“It was a gift,” he scowled, tucking it away underneath his clothes. “And watch the name-drop, Porta.”

A mage like her knew better. For any mage to reveal another’s danuko without permission or just cause broke numerous mage code laws! Laws established by the Divine Nine Mage Guilds to preserve the security and safety of mages worldwide. She took an oath to uphold and protect these rights as a Light Core Mage.

Then again, how could he trust the loyalty of a Light Core Mage?

“C’mon now, don’t fight.” Duma interrupted with a nervous smile. “Auntie, I thought you were outta town this week?”

Only Duma soothed the harsh tension. One of his many gifts. Just a flash of that pearly smile doused the rage rumbling within. Bakari sighed and ran a hand through his dreads. Perhaps now wasn’t the time to fight. Not when he had his mission to finish.

Anita only smirked and punched her nephew’s cheeks. “Change of plans,” she sighed, tousling her short braids. “Reports of a magical treasure have surfaced in town. Light Core needs me out here for now.”

Figures. It was only a matter of time before Light Core got involved. Still, he had hoped for more time. As one of the few mage guilds left in Philos, they received any and all information about magic. A necessary since they housed powerful mages who helped secure the safety of Philosians.

Bakari had a few run-ins with those mages, but no proven encounters. The perks of being a world-class archer and sniper.

His commlink vibrated. Perfect, another message from Tyrell. Not they both had news to report. Though he hated to think about Tyrell’s reaction to all this.

“That means I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Bakari.”

An eye on him? Bakari scoffed. “Save yer efforts, sand-brain. You’ll need it for yer mission.” He spared her a nod and climbed onto Mystro. For his credit, Mystro turned up his snout at Anita and whipped his tail in her direction. “Talk to you later, Duma. We can chill then.”

Bakari waited until they were out of earshot to call Tyrell. The holographic screenshot captured the strongman’s heavy scowl perfectly.

“Tyrell, we got a problem.”

[hornetdiaries]

MRSA and Mary Kay

Thursday's are not good for me.  It's not only because I have six hours of labs, two hours of pathophysiology, and not a single spare moment between nine to five the whole day.  It's because Thursday's are just a little bit weird.  One Thursday in particular started out with more promise than any before it.  I was going to my clinical nursing location for the first time, and I was taking a quiz in my other lab that a lot of people had failed, and then to top it all off I was actually going on a bonafide date with a legitimate human female.  

Since my dating experience in college had reached a grand height of once being stood up and having to fake being a part of a polyamorous lesbian relationship to some guys drunk mother, I didn’t have a very hard standard to beat.  I was going to out-romance all my friends because this would not be a regretful drunk makeout, nor would it be a random hookup with someone I’ve known for less than an hour, and this wouldn't even be with a guy that turned out to be extremely gay. I was going to do  this right and proper and get coffee while the sun was still up.  Absolutely nothing could have made me happier.

    My day started out with shimmying into my khaki scrubs, dawn my red polo, and lace up my clunky white shoes, and look like the most capable Target employee while I ate overcooked eggs with a viciously confident attitude.  I was actually so distracted by how capable I felt that I ended up leaving ten minutes late and being the last one to arrive.

    The six other nursing students and I followed around our professor like ducklings in this scary new pond.  As soon as a patient began to approach our line and our professor made first contact, we were all wide smiles, caring eyes, and the most compassionate “good mornings” anyone has ever been gifted in their life.  Over and over we rinsed and repeated until it was a perfect angelic chorus of “Hello, good morning, thank you, giggle” bringing joy to all and internally shaking from fear that any one of them would look us dead in the eye and tell us to recite Krebs cycle.

    Every patient I saw was a small burst of excitement in that I could get to discover some new ailment, and then a flash of fear as I realized that if I breathed the wrong way I would kill them.  But everyone was nice, and the nurses actually looked happy to be working there which was a rare sight to see.  Even more strange was that people were happy to see us.  Nursing students were supposed to be pummeled emotionally and physically, getting the crap end of the stick more literally than not.  But these nurses were respectful and courteous and even excited for us.  Our professor later told us that it was because of how well the college maintained its nursing program reputation, and within the orientation brochure for us were several employment pitches.  It was actually the most motivational thing I had ever heard.  I came to the school knowing that the program was well respected in the field, but being surrounded by only nursing students who were dropping like flies left and right, always complaining and wanting to get out so bad, I had forgotten that this was actually an amazing thing to be a part of.

    And then of course we got smacked in the face with MRSA.  The big bad nosocomial monster lurking under the bed of every immunocompromised patient.  Contact precautions dictated gloves and a gown, so we all stood in silence, conscious of every small tear in our skin that the disease could leak into.  Gloves had never been so hard to put on, and I could have sworn the strings of my gown had turned into wet spaghetti they were so hard to tie.  I nearly started yelling at my gloves when they refused to keep my cuffs tucked in, as though I could already feel the microbes crawling up my arms and settling into my skin.

    As soon as we walked into the room however, all my fears went out into the closed ventilation system of the room.  Because there in front of me was the smallest old lady made of bones with skin hanging off of them, and two giant swollen legs with bandages wrapped around and soaked with fluid.  I fell in love immediately and took up my spot right at the foot of her bed, getting in as close as possible as the nurse sheared off the layers of gauze and wrappings.

    The lady had dementia and so she didn’t pay much attention to the six girls decked out in urine yellow gowns crowding around her bedside, mindfully aware to keep out of the sterile field as best as possible.  If anyone so much as reached over the spread out gauze and packages, the whole field would have to be thrown away and the process of setting up and gowning up would have to be restarted.

    Layer upon layer, the purulent drainage shed away, revealing a hulking mass of swollen leg.  The skin was thin and breaking apart like paper ripped while wet, the color was the most sickly that yellow can turn.  Her leg was three times what it should have been and when pressed upon it failed to spring back up and instead took time to inflate with fluid.  Stage four pitting edema, yellow discoloration, epidermal breakdown, and severe discomfort all ran out like bullet points on a test, except now they had a face and a name and a smell.

    “Would you like one of our students to help hold her leg up?” My teacher asked in the sweetest voice.  My heart jumped up to say hi to my throat as the performing nurse considered it, “uh, sure” all I heard was a victory bell as I moved forwards wordlessly, not waiting to let someone else volunteer and take my spot.  I was going to hold that leg even if I had to take the Med School approach and throw my classmates under the MRSA filled bus to do it.

    “Good, just like that” he said, as I elevated it to a safe level.  I looked to see my professor giving me two thumbs up and was brimming with satisfaction.  My professor was also my advisor and held a special place in my heart after she pretended to be my mom for parents weekend was still signing emails with ‘mama Sinoski’ as her title.  It had been my duty ever since to be her absolute favorite, and in that moment I was absolutely sure that I was.

    Then my patient started wailing.  There's nothing to break a good high like the sound of an elderly woman on the brink of tears and only in touch with reality enough to know that you're causing her pain.  My eyes were wide with fright as I struggled to keep her leg elevated while she jerked it back.  Caught between MRSA and a pressure ulcer on the ankle, I only had a solid two inches or so where I could keep my hands, and any slip up or readjustment could result in skin breakdown or contamination.  But I held on, leaning at far too unsafe angles in order to keep the procedure afloat while the nurse strapped on the ABD pads as fast as he could.

    Finally, he wrapped the cling around and I was able to set it down while he tagged it.  My professor chose a girl at random to take my place for the second leg and so I was able to step back and gather myself.  I had done it, my first assistance on a nursing procedure was complete and no one had died or sued me.  

    By the time we rolled around to getting back to school it was a whirlwind of changing clothes, scarfing down food, nearly throwing up from eating too fast, and reading an entire chapter on the joys of the digestive and renal systems.  Pathophysiology was a short and sweet lecture on pain and the gut wrenching agony that the body can inflict on itself, and then in my lab directly after we learned how to palpate the liver and spleen.  I got a perfect score on the quiz all my friends failed so I got the impression it was a good sign for the afternoon.

    Finally, after having my liver massaged and my mettle tested, I rushed back to my room and stole the gayest clothes my roommate owned, then dashed out the door.  I was going to do this, I was going to be funny, I was going to be an active listener, I was going to fall in love and live a long life full of hiding from my parents and having someone to come home to that would talk to me about things that don't involve pus and squishy bits.  I refused to be the cool vodka aunt to my sister's cats any longer.

    I arrived at the agreed coffee dispensing location which required a bit of a drive, and as I was about to go in I received a text that she was in fact at her Mary Kay party because I had misread the times and all other manner of boring nonsense.  This should have been my sign to leave.  This should have been the one thing that clued me in that this was all about to go as far downhill as one can roll.

    See, this girl wasn't what I would consider to be my ‘type’, because while my type includes just being of legal age and able to breathe independently, this girl was antartic levels of polar opposite.  Which I thought might be a good thing, something to push me out of my comfort zone, a good dose of opposites attract, always being able to make conversation because of just how different we are!  Of all the lies I’ve told myself that was the dumbest.  Jo was a very beautiful girl attending Liberty university for business who happened to work as a waitress and also a Mary Kay sales predator.  This to me screamed closeted lesbian looking for a way out and knowing how to play the straight game really well.  I didn't think she would actually be into makeup.

    That comes later however, because I decide to go to this party thing where they make you pity buy products because they already put all this crap on you.  It was a simple enough drive until I got close.  I had assumed she would host it at her house or something and it would be a group of girls that all vaguely knew her and would make some kind of gossiping small talk.  

What I arrived at was a strip mall entirely blocked off by construction cones and a moat of loose torn up rocks.  It looked like someone had tried their best to quarantine the little chunk of strip mall off because it was connected to absolutely nothing, the only thing around it were houses, and while there were cars inside there was no way of entering or exiting.

I began to think that maybe I had been completely catfished and that some small army of human trafficking warlords were waiting for me inside, ready to kidnap me and laugh at how I fell for going to a Mary Kay party.  I don't know what made me more angry, the thought of being kidnapped or having people think I wanted to go to this thing.

As I'm contemplating whether I should just cut my losses and go back to school, I get a phone call from Jo.  She has this voice like pumpkin spice coffee and I see her out on the street looking around for me, and yeah, she's really pretty.  Pretty enough for me to make the wrong decision and park my car in an empty church and steel myself for whatever fresh hell this was goign to be.

She's happy to see me, I'm nervous up to my hypothalamus, but I follow her across this torn up sea of what used to be a road into the first door of the strip mall that was completely empty save two cars.  The interior is made of four black tables with white plastic chairs and a wall with posters of different levels of gems with pictures of girls beside them.  For some reason pearl is the highest, but right beneath it is diamond, and whose picture is right below it?  Jo.

Before I can even ask, a tall woman no older than twenty three pushes herself right into my bubble, shaking my hand and putting on the most rehearsed smile and greeting I've ever heard in my life.  She had the body of a Barbie but the confidence and domination in her eyes of Stalin.

“Hi!  I'm -insert short name that takes her four syllables to say and probably had a Q in it-, have you ever been pampered before?” One time I took the best bubble bath of my life and nearly drowned because I fell asleep, it seemed extremely relevant but not quite what she was asking.

“Uh, no”

“Well great!  Jo will take care of you and we'll get you set up!” And with that she swept herself away with the two girls who were equally pretty and just as terrified as I was.  They went to the back room and so it was just me and Jo and the biggest bag of makeup I had ever seen in my life.

It starts out pretty good.  She's nice and immediately warm to me, asking me about my day and blanching when I told her about the MRSA.  I thought that it would end up with her giving me a desperate smile and a few laughs like most people do when I tell them about my work, but she just sort of kept that shocked look on her face and I had to nervously laugh for her.

All the while she's doing the Mary Kay routine, and I almost wanted to tell her that she didn't have to because her boss(?) wasn't here and I wasn't going to buy anything anyways, but I feared not having something in common between us, even if it was just her teaching me how to rub small bits of “anti aging” minerals onto the back of my hand.  Know what really doesn't age?  A lobster.  That's the most fun fact ever and it's my favorite one to tell but she just keeps going on with the beauty products and I keep sitting on my lobster fact because if her MRSA reaction was anything to go by she'd probably think lobsters were gross.  They are not gross, they are immortal and we should respect them for it.

So we finally ended the beauty stuff where I rubbed different pink creams onto the back of my hand and pretended to be impressed with the results.

“Are you wearing any makeup?” And I'm a little self conscious now because I don't put on makeup usually since I can't see that great without my glasses and no one ever taught me how to do it, so it can be in the ballpark of ‘yeah that looks fine’ and ‘Oh yeah I can kinda see where you put uh, that… Line’.

“Yeah, a little bit”

“Here” she hands me a wet cloth, “Wipe it off” that's when I began to get the odd feeling in my chest that this could end up being very different from my delusional idea of how this night would go.  Since she's already put it in my hands, I wipe away everything on my face and see her set out an entirely new roll of different bottles and creams that's as long as the table.

I feel my heart sink through to my feet and know that this would not be easy.  Our conversation was dwindling and now she's only focused on the make up as she runs through words and instructions that go completely over my head.  Exfoliate this, moisture that, day serum, night serum, eye shadow cream, butter balm, I don't even try keeping up with what I was smearing onto my face.  By the end of it, I was sticky and felt like I was covered in sand.  My face was a complete mess as foundation that wasn't enough to cover all of it but enough to give me patches of caking color, my eyes kept gluing shut from the mascara and the eyeshadow that wasn't evenly distributed by a long shot, my lips a jagged mess of color.

I didn't know if I was more mad because I was bored out of my mind, or really uncomfortable with looking that I had just been punched by a wet puppet.  That's when the business boss lady decided to come back out and take one look at me before gasping with wonder and going,

“You look so good!” all I could do was stare up at her with honest confusion.

“What?” She stared back, silent for the first time like I had just swiped my card wrong and the machine couldn't read it, “Oh I mean, thanks” and with that she was operational and sitting down at our table with the sugary cocaine level of energy and enthusiasm.

“So now that you're done, we’re going to play a little game” if I heard the doors suddenly lock I wouldn't have even been surprised, “I'm going to play a song, and you're going to try and think of eleven names and numbers of people who would want Jo to give them a demo makeover before its over, and if you can do that you get a prize!” Selling out my family and friends in order to get material goods, nothing wrong with that.  She gives me this card and starts the music.

I know that this song would end up being like, five minutes long, and at this point I was ready to get this done and see if Jo wanted to get a slice of pie or walk around the church parking lot, so I did what any self respecting person would do and found the eleven people least likely to stop talking to me after they got harassed by Mary Kay.  My mom for starters, then my roommate, an unofficial patient, a dude I slept with freshman year before he moved to California, a guy I know in Canada, and then the last however many people in my phone contact list.

Things began to roll a little bit faster downhill from there.  This chick sits back down and gives me my free little bottle of chemical lotion junk, then decides she's not just going to try and sell me things, she's going to sell me ideas.  She starts preaching about the ideology of the company and how just how great it is, Jo is nodding along the whole way though out of the corner of my eye.

“It's just so great and gives you so much opportunity.  I mean your life should really be in order Jesus, Family, and Mary Kay” had anyone else told this to me I would have thought they were shitty actors, but deep inside her flawless face I knew that she believed every word of this.  This woman was southern ideals wrapped up in the prettiest packaging money could buy.

“Okay, we're going to play another game now” I felt a lump in my throat as I realized there was no way out of this, I would be seventy before they gave me my life back.  “On this piece of paper I want you to write MRS CAB.  Good!  Now right below the M I want you to write money” it was a fucking acronym, acronyms are not game!  She started preaching hard about the ethics of business and how “Mary Kay set up her business so that it would benefit everyone and help empower women!” If being part of a pseudo pyramid scheme is empowering women I don't want to know what her version of oppression looked like.

She finishes up the acronym finally and I look to Jo for support in this trying time.  She's still facing forwards, clearly engaged in this nonsense.  That's when the woman gets the hint that perhaps we aren't complete strangers.

“How did you two meet?  Do you know each other?” This woman chirped out like a canary that just did its second line of coke.

“This is actually our first time meeting” Jo starts, “We met on Tinder” my eyes popped out of my school and as did the lady's, both of us staring in horror at Jo and her brazen announcement.  I began nervously chuckling, hiding my face inside of my hands even though it was extremely obvious and only drew further attention to myself.  “Do you know what Tinder is?” She asked as innocently as a baby duckling.

“Uhhhh” the look on her face said brimstone but her smile refused to dip by even a percent of an angle.

“It's a good way to meet people in your area, some people use it for hookups and stuff but plenty of people use it for making friends.  One of my friends randomly put it on my phone and I've met up with dozens of girls” suddenly in my mind's eye an epiphany exploded, I could see girl after girl getting swept up in her urgency to meet up and invitation to do other activities that don't work out, all to get wrapped up into a Mary Kay party where they discover that nothing was as it seemed.

“Oh, okay” her voice had shrunk a few octaves and annoyance levels but she shook it off and began on again, “Alright Mandy, so for this next part I want you to write on a scale of one to ten how likely it is that you'll end up working as a Mary Kay sales associate” I was still mentally thrown by the realization that this definitely was not a date and everything was suddenly making way more sense than I wanted it to.

“Uh, probably a three I guess” I muttered, wanting to leave so badly it hurt.  Her eyes glared down at me like it was a threat to strangle me in the parking lot,

“Write it down, Mandy” fearfully I put pen to paper, feeling guilty as sin for disappointing this woman I barely knew and wholeheartedly hated.  “Good” she had me do a bit more writing and then gave me one final speech before she shook my sweating hand and started towards the back.

“Wow, I thought she was going to burst when I said I met you on Tinder!” Jo started, looking absolutely amazed.

“Ha, yeah, that was something”

“Like, I don't see what the big deal is, I meet up with people all the time from there”

“This is actually my first time meeting up with anyone from there” except almost Andrew who stood me up, and that grad student that made me crab cakes to sleep with him, and now this.  I started shoving my things into my bag, making the clear physical announcement that this engagement was over.

“Really?  You don't ever use it for dating?” I began shoveling faster, shaking my head with a painfully large smile while laughing in a continuous stream to take up the silence.

“Ah, well, it's… Yeah” she was confused enough by my answer that I had enough time to stand up and kick my chair in.  “Well it's been really fun, thanks for inviting me, I should probably be getting back now”   

“Here, I'll drive you back to your car” I was about to protest but then I figured getting murdered in a church parking lot would totally be something that would happen today so I followed her outside where her big van was parked next to the sparkly off white Mary Kay car.  I've never hated a single car so much for everything it represented.  Rather uneventfully, I bid her goodbye, made up my mind to never talk to her again, got in my car and went back to school.

There’s a Twenty One Pilots song about a car radio being missing and the horrors of being left to your own thoughts while driving, and while I hate that song, it was ironically the only thing on the radio that I could listen to that would distract me from my thoughts.  It's just that after leaving North Carolina two years ago and giving up the only world I had ever known to try my hand at being me, I had nothing but a growing series of regretful pseudo-romantic encounters.  I hid from my parents, broke up with my boyfriend, and left my culture all for the magical daydream that three hours away would be a fantastic life just waiting to be embraced.  I couldn't even blame Jo because she was trying to do her job and meet new friends/victims, I just wanted to believe there was more to it.  I had set myself up to fail from the beginning, too scared to go to a big school in a big city where I'd be forgotten in a heartbeat so I convinced myself that a tiny liberal arts school with a nursing program would somehow be a magnet for everything I could ever want.

So did I end the day curled up in my friends bed while she fed me Almond Joys while pretending I hadn't started crying when I told her what happened?  Probably.  But through it I had learned a very important lesson, that nothing good has ever come from Tinder, and that Liberty still definitely sucks.  Also what the hell is butter balm?