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scholastic-dragon · 3 years

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Lurking in the Dark

Chapter 1: Monsters in Manhattan

Warnings: talk of kidnappings, mentions of blood, Tom Manning being annoying.

The garbage truck rolled out of the B.P.R.D headquarters at 19:00 sharp, heading straight for Manhattan.

It had been a quiet night, dark clouds roamed over the sky, occasionally raining and thundering over the quiet city. It had been a calm day, no one was yelling, being attacked, or bleeding. Everyone stuck to their own devices, simply enjoying each others company in a comfortable silence.

Then the alarm sounded, bringing everyone back to reality.

The gang quickly pulled on their gear and rushed out of the B.P.R.D at Manning’s request. Liz, Abe, and Hellboy were loaded into the back of the garbage truck. This raised a lot of questions because Liz normally sat up front with John.

Hellboy pulled his coat over his shoulders as Abe adjusted his breathing apparatus.

"Did Manning give either of you guys a rundown on what we're hunting today?" Hellboy asked, loading his gun, glancing towards Abe and Liz.

"He only said we had to leave quick if we wanted to catch 'em." Liz pulled her bullet proof vest on, zipping it up. “I hate it when he does this, makes us rush out with no warnings or anything as to what we’re doing,”

"Whatever it is, it's got him riled up," Abe added.

"What'd ya mean, Blue?" Hellboy questioned, moving to stand next to Liz, his arm wrapped around her waist.

"He hasn't said anything yet, but the police went to Washington and handed over a case to us, apparently it's not something they can solve," Abe opened his apparatus and hooked it around his neck. He locked it into place, it bubbled as he took a deep breath.

“What do you mean ‘it’s not something they can solve’?” Liz raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not sure, I couldn’t read any more of Manning’s mind before we were, rather rudely, shoved in here,”

"So this really is going to be a fun night. Whenever Manning's in a bad mood it means he's up my ass," Hellboy rolled his eyes as Liz gave a soft chuckle.

The garbage truck pulled to a stop and John hit the back wall, calling to them from the passengers seat.

"We're here! Suit up!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The flash of the cameras sparked against the dark nighttime air. Police sirens echoed off the stone alleyways. It had rained only minutes prior to their arrival, leaving everything cold and wet.

Hellboy, Abe, and Liz had just hopped out of the garbage truck when Manning came up to them.

"We're too late, everything...everything is gone," He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, glancing around nervously.

"Gone? What'd ya mean "gone"?" Red asked lighting a cigar.

"All evidence, fingerprints, weapons, blood..." Manning gestured to the alleyway with an large sweep of his arm. "..it’s all gone. It's as if nothing happened here,"

The other B.P.R.D agents scouted around the large stone buildings taking pictures of any and everything that could be a clue.

"What did happen here?" Abe asked, taking off his glove and waving his hand around the cobblestone ground.

The buildings on either side had been abandoned for what appeared to be decades. The windows were boarded up and cracked, and the walls were falling apart.

This neighborhood had been known for its high crime rate, the only things living here being criminals, magical creatures who didn't fit in and the occasional rat.

The alleyway was wide, covered in trash, empty boxes, and had spray paintings all around.

"Another kidnapping," Manning stepped aside, allowing Abe to move past him.

"Another? Isn't that like the fifth one this week?" Red groaned, blowing the smoke from his cigar into Manning's face. He coughed and fanned away the smoke.

"Yes, and we still have no clues as to where they are or even if they're alive," Manning's voice rose, he wiped his sweaty forehead again.

"Chances aren't good if this is the fifth one," Liz mumbled, taking out her flashlight and moving to the back wall with some of the other agents.

"Someone was definitely here, but it's like you said, there's no trace of anyone other than Judge Trevor Harold," Abe said, squatting done next to one of the large dumpsters.

"It was Judge Harold?" Manning asked, rubbing his balding head. “This is worse than I thought,” He mumbled to himself, turning away from Abe.

"Find any and all case files that he gave a verdict for," Abe didn't glance towards Manning or Red, crawling around on the wet stones.

"Why?"

"Because I can feel the resentment and hatred from the....thing that kidnapped him. He was lured here and taken, that much I can feel," Abe shivered, it made the scales on his arm prickly, feeling the raw emotions of their meeting.

"You can't feel anything about this thing that took him, Blue?" Red took a step towards him, glancing up towards the roof of the building.

"No, it's...it's like it was a person, but no longer. A beast-or creature-like thing did this," Abe stood, turning to Red.

"I found something!" One of the agents, Granite, shouted from the far corner of the alleyway. He was squatted down next to a steaming manhole cover holding something in his hand.

Red, Abe, and Manning rushed over, crouching down next to him. He held out a cloth with gloved hands.

It was the cloth from a shirt, thin cotton, Abe guessed and it had a large cut in it and was stained with blood. The ends had been tattered and shredded, ripped from the man’s body.

"We have to find this man, or else many more will pay," Manning commented, turning and giving more orders to the other agents.

"Any ideas, Blue?" Red stood, nudging Abe with his knee. Abe sighed, standing with him.

"No, whatever this thing is, it knows how to hides its tracks. So our only hope is to connect the dots of who they're kidnapping, and see what they have in common,"

"You don't think it could be more Sammaels right?" Red finished his cigar and threw it in the nearby dumpster.

"No, this thing is bigger, more viscous. Hungry for something we can only imagine,"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Judge Harold was last seen walking down the alley where Granite found the fabric," Liz bit on her nails, peering down at the illuminated table in the conference room.

A blue print of the alleyway had been hologramed onto the table, and a trail had been drawn on it showing Harold's path from his apartment to the buildings.

They had found three foot prints that matched Harold's walking into the alley. Thanks to the rain, his boot had been imprinted in mud and dirt.

"Is this all we really have?" Manning asked, waving his hands around widely. He looked to everyone in the room. "This is the fifth kidnapping this week! The police handed these cases over to us because they know it's not something they can handle!"

"And we are handling it!" Liz snapped at him. "It's hard to solve a case when we have no clues as to what did this. And we also just got handed the case, we’ve only had a few hours to look over it."

“And if you would tell us why to took this case, it might be easier for us to solve it,” Red added on, nodding to Liz before giving Manning a slightly annoyed scowl.

“The police haven’t found anything, it’s as if a ghost is luring these men there and then kidnapping them. They found a drop of blood on the sidewalk in one of the crime scenes, but it didn’t have a match.” Manning sighed.

“It didn’t have a match? That’s not possible,” Liz argued.

“Unless, it was a magical creature,” Abe interrupted, the gears in his brain turning to try and put the pieces together. “It would make sense, I mean the only things we have so far are his shirt, the footprints and the camera footage of him leaving his apartment building and heading towards the alley." Abe added on. “All these things are what we see on any normal day, this isn’t a human being.”

"What about the blood on the cloth?" Manning put his hands on his hips.

"It's being tested now, we'll have a verdict in no time,"

"Guys," John Myers entered the room, pushing the door open with his shoulder, holding a giant stack of folders in his arms. "I have all the case files you asked for,"

He set the large stack on the edge of the table, Manning opened the first folder, flipping through the papers.

"Good, now all we have to do is find a case with all the missing people," Abe said, staring down at the blueprint.

"You think all the men who were kidnapped are connected?" Liz asked, taking the next folder in the stack.

"Yes, they all happened at the same time- the dead of night- and in an alleyway close to their apartments. And I'm also certain these men were all Judges or Jury members at one point." Abe commented, looking up from the table.

“Who’s gone missing so far?” John asked.

“Congressmen Peter McLowe, Owen Stevens, Johnathon S. Brown, Jack Turner, and Judge Trevor Harold.” Abe hit a button on the side of the table and the missing peoples reports for all five men appeared on the table.

"This is going to take awhile," Red grumbled, peering over Liz's shoulder to read her folder.

"And we're going to need help," Manning commented, taking out his phone and leaving the room.

"These dudes have done dozens of cases together, how're we going to figure out how they're connected?" Liz asked, handing the folder to Red, glancing down at the digital files.

"Maybe they all had the same case? Or worked on the same case together?" John sheepishly suggested, rubbing the back of his neck.

"In the alleyway, I sensed jealousy, anger, and resentment, worse than just had ever felt it. Whatever is taking these men had been hurt by them, in some way, and I'm guessing they were given a verdict they didn't like. As John had suggested." Abe crossed the table, taking the folders and spreading them out across the table.

John moved to stand at his side, looking at the table with him.

"But you said it was a creature?" Red commented, brow furrowed. "These guys are too old school to allow a magical creature in their courthouse."

"It must be one that can use a glamour," Liz answered. "But there's thousands of fairies and trolls that can use glamours, so this isn't going to be easy."

"But at least we have a start," Abe flipping through one of the folders before picking up another one.

"Abe, don't you have all those books with mystical creatures in them? Why not look in those?" John suggested with a half hearted smile.

"I would, but I can't feel what this monster is, there's no clues or evidence that it was even there," Abe shook his head. "We've never encountered a creature like this before. It’s like it knows how to be and act human but is also untamed and wild."

“What if it’s two creatures?” Liz asked, glancing at Abe.

“I only sensed the presence of the creature and Judge Harold, I don’t think there was anyone else there.” Abe shook his head, sighing.

"Well whatever is it," Red raised his pointed finger with his classic smirk. "We're gonna take 'em down,"

"Yes, we will, but with help," Manning had come back into the room, his forehead covered in sweat. "I called Washington, they're sending in a new B.P.R.D Agent to help us,"

"What, we aren't good enough for you?" Red mocked, as Liz his chest playfully.

"We need someone to help us with this, there's no questions about it. And thankfully they're sending in the best Agent they have, so this case will get solved in no time and my street cred will be saved."

"Do you only care about your street cred and not the lives that are in danger?" Liz crossed her arms, popping out a hip.

"Of course I care, when these men are found it'll save my job, it's a win win." He spoke calmly, putting his phone back into his pocket.

"If these men are found, the first man went missing over three months ago. From our work history, there's a chance these men have been dead for months," Abe commented sadly.

"Sir!" Agent Granite rushed into the conference room, panting. His blonde hair was rustled, his eyes wide with worry. "We found something else in the alleyway with Judge Harold,"

Everyone turned and glanced towards the door, putting down the folders.

"Well, don't just stand there, tell us!" Manning wiped his forehead again.

"It's a tooth, sir,"

"A tooth?" Manning mimicked.

"Like a human tooth?" Red asked, raising an eyebrow before glancing to Abe. Abe returned his confused expression, shrugging and glancing back at Granite.

"No, it's...well...it's better if you come see for yourselves," He opened the door and motioned for them to follow.

Manning rushed out of the room, the others shared a concerned look before following them down the hall.

Granite led them down to the farthest lab, at the end of a long hallway. Other agents were gossiping and talking about what had happened at the crime scene. Making their own theories about what happened to Judge Harold.

They reached Granite's lab, it looked the same as the other rooms. Concrete walls and floors with a large light in the center of the ceiling.

One of the back wall monitors had the alleyway blueprints on it, another had the results from the blood soaked cloth, and the third had Judge Harold's file pulled up.

On the table in the center of room were several test tubes, needles, plastic gloves, and small clear dishes. The dishes had dirt, rocks, and cloth in them from the crime scene.

In the largest dish was the tooth that Granite had found.

"That's no human tooth," Red mused, leaning over the table. Liz came to his side and gasped softly.

"That's a huge tooth," She agreed, hand covering her mouth.

The tooth on the dish was about 3 inches long, very sharp and wide. And the tip was coated in dried and crusted blood.

"Oh my," Manning's jaw dropping open.

John had gone to the back of the room to read the Intel on the monitors.

Granite stood on the opposite side of the table, his back facing the monitors. He looked at them with a worried expression.

"Who's tooth is that, Granite?" Red asked.

"It's...a crocodile tooth, sir," He whispered, cringing at their shocked faces. John's head whipped towards Granite, mouth agape.

"A crocodile?" Liz gasped, looking down at the tooth again.

"You found this at the crime scene?" Abe asked, picking up the dish and inspecting the tooth. He tried to read it, but it gave him nothing.

"Yes, and the blood on the tooth and cloth are a match." Granite cleared his throat, shifting from foot to foot. "It's Judge Harold's blood,"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: @pheradream15 (thanks for the confidence boost!)

#eeek #im writing #scary #Lurking in the Dark #hellboy #abe sapien #liz sherman #abe sapien x reader #abe sapien x oc

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sincerelyravens · 3 years

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This is something that I wrote to get in Britt’s head for my secret project ;)

Britt Ingelbrecht was born to a mother and her husband in the remains of a crumbling marriage with an brother 4 years older. This did not mean that her early years were not full of love. Her mother would always shower her with love and hugs and her father would read her stories and her brother would play tea party with her—even if he would rather play with monster trucks or superheroes. But, occasionally, her mother and her father would fight and sometimes it would be bad and her brother would distract her with toys.

Even though her parents marriage crumbled, they made certain to know that they were still a team in raising Britt and her brother, Bram. Their father would still take them out and attend their school events. In kindergarten, Britt met Jana (they separated for a few years before reuniting in Scouts) and her friends and she was full of happiness. Her mother would always tell her that she would make a boy very happy one day. As her brother struggled with drugs, Britt felt the need to be the perfect daughter with good grades and no drugs in her system so her parents wouldn’t have to worry about her.

Britt’s first kiss was at a summer camp at the age of thirteen. His name was John, a simple name really, who was a few years older and sweet as could be. One night, John asked Britt to sneak out past curfew and they talked amongst the stars until John leaned closer and nervously, cautiously pressed their lips together. It was the stuff of romance novels and movies, a magical experience that would make one’s heart burst with glee. Instead, Britt felt nothing. There was no fireworks or butterflies—just two mouths pressed together—and a nervousness settled deep in the pit of her stomach. For a few weeks, it continued and Britt kept waiting for a switch to flip, for that feeling to arrive, but it never did. John ended up breaking her up a week before camp finished and her friends had been heartbroken for her.

Over the next crushes and boyfriends that she had, she was determined to have that feeling even if it meant creating it herself. So she kissed her boyfriend’s and held their hands and giggled with her friends over their intimate moments in bed. However, what she kept to herself was the fact that she still had a nagging feeling in the back of her mind—that there was something different that she couldn’t figure out.

In the summer when she was 15, Britt met a girl named Sarah with long brown hair at the summer camp. They were assigned to the same cabin and they were closer, practically inseparable. One night, she and Sarah snuck out to the lake and took a midnight swim, laughing quietly as they splashed one another. As the two of them got out and Sarah leaned a little closer, something stirred in the pit of her stomach... and, instead of the invigorating feeling, it scared her. It scared her more when she had a dream of Sarah kissing her, like John and the others before. She tried to write it off as a one-time thing. But, when Sarah got a boyfriend in another cabin, Britt was devastated because he took more of Sarah’s time and she had forgotten about her friendship with Britt—or, at least, that’s what her mind was saying though her heart was not convinced.

When she left the camp, Britt was determined to forget Sarah and what happened.

Soon, she started dating Jens. Of them all, Jens was the first one that she convinced herself that she felt that way. In his own strange way, Jens made her feel seen and happy. He listened to her talk about stuff that other boys wouldn’t care about and input when he could. But, they also had their fights and when Britt learned that Jana and Jens had been together behind her back, she had been devastated and her heart ripped to shreds.

The situation with Sarah had been different—because, even though she wished to forget it, stirred something inside her, it still reminded her of Sarah pulling away from her and leaving her all alone. While Britt still had Eva and her other friends at school, she had lost her best friend in the entire world—the person that she had been closest to and could tell everything to—and that felt worse... being alone without anyone to really connect to. Eventually, it ended up better because Britt forgave Jana and Jana still loved Britt and they weren’t as close as they were but they were still good.

In May, Britt had met Sander at a coffee shop by their houses. After seeing each other a few times, they had hit it off and started to date and grown close. But it wasn’t love. It was never love—even if they both tried to convince themselves that it was. In the early days, it was fun and it was nice and in good company and they enjoyed being around one another. But as the months went on, they both grew unsatisfied and unable to leave. Sander would break it off only to come back two days later, feeling unwanted and unloved. While she never admitted it, Britt had broken it off more than once only to come back to Sander because she could pretend with him—pretend to be who she should be. And she made mistakes, not trusting him and what he felt, and she knew that.

In the end, it’s Noor that breaks her out of her shell. Noor who is an artist and a dancer and a photographer with an artistic eye that could turn anything into an aesthetic photo. Within two hours, they were the closest of friends and it was the first summer friendship that bled over into the school year. They would still meet up for coffee and Noor’s art exhibitions. They had even tried to plan a double date—as Robbe, Jens’s best friend, had earn Noor’s affections—that ended up them on Noor’s bed talking about anything and everything but Robbe who was confusing. Then, Robbe and Noor broke up and Britt and Sander broke up and everything that ended up their ex-boyfriend’s together forever.

And they were friends. Truly.

However, Britt doesn’t know when it all changes and grows into something more. When she grows nervous whenever she is alone with Noor, when she starts to look forward to seeing her more often, when she ends up dreaming about her. It seemed as though it was a new change, one brought on suddenly, but it was also something that was always there.

When Britt and Noor share their first kiss, nervous beneath a gentle rain after an art show with a camera in their hands, the butterflies start in her stomach—the feeling of euphoria that floods though her body. It was that feeling that was described in romance novels and movies. All at once, Britt realizes this is what it’s supposed to feel like—the way it should’ve always felt like—and there’s a part of her that’s nervous and scared for what it all means, what this kiss all means, but Britt also felt, for the first time, that it was okay—that this was the way she was always supposed to feel.

#wtfock #britt ingelbrecht #posting for funsies #britt: a character study

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starshipsofstarlord · 4 years

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Might As Well Take Hemlock | Peter Romuneck

The bag weighed heavy on your shoulder as you walked down the side of the road, you were almost at the beginning of the town. Hemlock Grove, with an ominous name like that, it was a hunters instinct to expect supernatural occurrences to be happening to the dismay of the victims and their families. Papers from a couple years back stated that girls were being killed and their womanly parts ripped to pieces by a wolf.

It was no coincidence that the animal targeted the same sex of human, and their ovaries repetitively, no creature grew that addicted to flesh that they’d pin point it on a certain dissection of the body. The rumours were that it was a vargulf, and the implication made sense.

A sick werewolf was spurred on by human thoughts, hence why the monster was able to analyse the victims so perfectly. Apparently it was gone, but where there was one wolf, there was always more than one. They survived in packs, it was your job to find out if the survivors of the beasts were peaceful, and able to be ignored so that they could continue to live on in their habitat uninterrupted.

Rain spurred on down from the heaven’s above, forsaking your journey. It made your clothes wet, and your hair stuck to your face, but it mattered not. It was merely a natural opposition to the weather, a price for not regarding the forecast when you had begun your journey that you had taken on foot. The sign naming the dangerous town was planted in the ground mere metres away, you were so close to reaching the line of entry, it was just in your reach.

But something was always bound to go wrong, especially in the life of a hunter, even if it be the smallest, oriental detail. A small truck drove by, the puddle its wheels went through averting in your direction, coating you in the rain water. It made you shiver, from both the cold and the aggression that you kept subsided. Some people needed to learn to respect pedestrians, they walked miles in accordance to reach their destination, no vehicle so that the chances of being traced were slim to none.

Once you had entered the town, the first spot that you intended on going to was a bar, there was always gossip floating around in the walls, and it was a chance to cool off and sip on a glass of your alcoholic choice. And so, it was where you scouted out to, trusting your senses at each and every whim.

As you entered, a familiar face was sat alone in the sea of faces, it was a werewolf that on the off chance you had allowed to live. The pair of you had met at a festival of his fathers; the gypsies. His name was Peter Romaneck, he was suspicious looking, but as you had discovered, he was a quiet wolf whom drew attention only by his lone wolf appearance.

Smirking at the concealed beast, you ordered a drink, walking over to the man with glass in hand. His eyes peered up, widening at the sight of you, and so he sat straighter, and adjusted the collar of his round necked shirt.

“What are you doing here?” He was startled by your presence, it had been one that he hadn’t expected to see in this damned town. “I thought you were chasing a ghoul or something by South Dakota.”

“I was, but I finished that hunt.” Taking a sip, you leaned forward, eyebrow raised. “It’s not everyday that you hear of a vargulf, was it one of yours?”

“No, it was some girl at school before we graduated.” The ‘we’ had you thinking, until a tall smoker kicked a chair out, reclining in it.

“I was hardly gone ten minutes, and you’re already thinking of abandoning me for a girl.” He shook his head at his friend, a smirk upon his face. “I’m Roman by the way, and what’s your name gorgeous?”

“You smell like blood.” You speculated, leaning closer to the man, head tilting, making the businessman rigid from your speculation. “And I’m not interest, I’ll see you around Romaneck.”

Downing the rest of your drink, you smiled once more at the werewolf, before standing to leave, walking out the door and out of their sights. “I don’t know what’s weirder, her sense of smell, or the fact that you let her leave without tapping that.”

“Already done it.” Peter sighed, Roman leant forward for an explanation. He wanted to be of equal knowledge as his partner in crime, and so he pried for an elected answer. “She was at one of the family group togethers, it sorta just happened, We were talking one moment, the next we were in the bathroom, causing a que outside.”

“If she’s that easy, I might have to give the ride a go.” Peter hit Roman in the shoulder for his comment, not only because it was demeaning, but the man was bound to get himself in some danger that he wasn’t ready for.

“Don’t even think about it, she’s a hunter. That’s why she’s here. to kill a vargulf, she has suspicions that there’s another in Hemlock Grove, her gut’s never wrong. And if she finds out what you are, she’ll have your head on a stick in an instant.”

“That’s vivid.” Remarked Roman, before the pair heard a crash out the back by the alley way, no one else seemed to have noticed. But then again, every other customer had ordinary, human hearing.

They ran outside, finding a white wolf with a knife in its shoulder. And then there was you, gun in hand. Before Peter or you had time to react, the wolf dived at you, its teeth close to biting you. But you held it off, pushing its snapping jaws away from your face.

Roman couldn’t do much but stand there stunned, but Peter could. He shifted, a black dog ripping through the front of his body, launching at the beast that was considered one of his own. He could smell its sickness, its strength. He grabbed it by the throat as the wolf pulled at his ears for mercy, pulling it away from you, until a gun was held in your hand.

It wasn’t aimed at either of them, it was pointed at Roman who couldn’t help but grab a complicating bystander that had decided to watch, his mouth stretching open and launching upon the flesh of the man. It was no question, he was an upir, a monster that was driven by hunger and caused death.

Peter panicked, not wanting his best friend to be shot by a bullet of your own. He released the vargulf, the sick wolf running off, before his teeth came to clamp over your wrist, making you scream in not only agony, but dread.

No longer would you be able to hunt, to kill a werewolf. You were now to become one as you looked at the wound, it was too deep to surpass the transition. Peter instantly returned to his human form, caring not that he was bare in the alley. He came to you, cradling your head as you were letting tears roll down your face.

“It’s okay, it’s going to be okay.” He wasn’t sure whether he was reassuring you or himself. “I’m here, I’ll be here. It’ll be like your time with my family, except you won’t have to be doing any investigating, you can join us.”

He kissed your forehead, and then leant down to your lips. You reciprocated it, trying to block out the view of the upir feeding. There was so much blood and tears, and by becoming one of the night, the monsters that you hunted, there would be so much more to come.

#peter romaneck x reader #peter x reader #hemlock grove imagine #hemlock grove #landon x reader #hemlock grove oneshot #hemlock grove x reader #werewolf x reader #werewolves #hemlock grove x you #imagines #imagine #peter imagine #peter x y/n

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ofbardsandmonsters · 4 years

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Fill for my hurt/comfort square for the @stb-bingo, inspired by the song Until the Light by Lights. you can also read it on ao3

***

I hear when you pull up Calling from the pickup I'm tripping down the hallway You lookin' like a vision You're talkin' and I listen We run away like always

<T 12:42am>: 911

<S 12:43am>: we’re on our way baby <S 12:43am>: just hold on

Tony snatches his phone up the second it buzzes, wincing when the quick movement jostles his injured hand. He’s only slightly surprised that he got a response so fast. But it makes him breathe a sigh of relief, and he leans his head back against the wall where’s he’s huddled in the corner of his bedroom

It feels like forever and no time at all before his phone lights up again.

<S 12:57>: let’s go

Fourteen minutes. That has to be a new record. But Tony doesn’t stop to ponder how many traffic laws his boyfriend must have broken to make it there so fast. He just snatches up his coat and slips out of his bedroom into the dark hallway.

The path to the front door takes him straight past Howard’s office, and he can see the light through the crack in the door. So he slows his steps, plastering himself to the wall, desperately trying to be silent. He moves carefully, knowing if he makes a sound, if he alerts his father to his presence, his escape will be thwarted. And he can’t let that happen. The door’s right there, he just has to take a few more steps and…

“Tony?”

He freezes. Shit!

The sound of Howard’s chair creaking sends him into panic mode, and Tony bolts. He doesn’t even stop to grab his shoes as he rips the front door open and sprints down the long driveway to the gate, not bothering to check if the door even shuts behind him. The dark outline of Steve’s truck waits just up the road, and the passenger door pops open for him as soon as the massive gate clangs shut.

Tony gets one foot on the runner and a hand flies out to haul him into the cab, tugging him into strong arms as the truck roars to life. He can feel himself shaking as he clutches at Bucky’s shirt, the adrenaline pumping through his blood washing away the pain in his hand for a few moments. The older boy deposits him in the empty space between driver and passenger, keeping an arm wrapped around Tony’s shoulder and pressing a kiss to his hair.

He feels another hand come from his left to tangle into his hair, and Steve presses his fingers gently into his scalp before slipping it down to tangle his fingers with Tony’s.

“We’ve got you sweetheart, it’s gonna be ok.”

Tony drifts as the truck rumbles down the road, losing track of time a little in the steady thump of Bucky’s heartbeat under his cheek and Steve’s warm hand in his own. The throbbing pain in his right hand feels dulled under their combined presence, easy to ignore for now. Eventually he feels them slow and then park, eyes blinking out into the dark as Steve shuts off the truck and the headlights wink out. But he squeezes them shut and tries to burrow into Bucky’s shirt as the lights in the cab flick on.

“Come on, Tones. Let me see the damage.”

He sighs, then sits up gingerly, cradling his injured hand against his chest. Bucky lets out a low whistle as one big hand comes up to cradle Tony’s jaw, and when Tony carefully pries his eyes open, he realizes he can only slightly see his boyfriend through his left eye. Howard must have hit him harder than he thought.

“That’s quite the shiner. Asshole really did a number this time, huh?”

Tony tries to shrug, but the movement jostles his hand and he lets out a whine as the pain comes flaring back in full force. The sound startles the other two boys in the truck, and Bucky automatically reaches out to wrap his fingers around the younger boy’s wrist and tug his hand into the light.

The middle and ring fingers of Tony’s right hand are swollen and purple, and the swelling extends down into the bulk of his hand. Bucky swears a blue streak, glancing over Tony’s shoulder at Steve before ducking his head down to meet one frightened brown eye.

“Honey, your fingers are broken. Maybe your whole hand. We need to take you to the hospital.”

Tony shakes his hand frankly, and tries to pull his hand back. “No. No, we can’t. Th-they’ll ask questions and… I can’t. He’ll just make it go away and then it’ll be even worse for me. Besides, Steve’s a boy scout. He can just… set it. I’ll be fine. Please.”

“Jesus Christ, Tony!”

Behind him, Steve slams a hand on the steering wheel and shoves his door open, slamming it shut and stalking around the front of the truck to stand with his hands on his hips as he stares out into the darkness. Tony flinches toward Bucky, the forceful anger making him shake again as tears gather in his good eye.

Bucky immediately gathers him up in his arms, tucking the smaller boy into his chest and resting his chin in Tony’s dark curls.

“Hey. It’s ok, doll. That’s not for you. He’s pissed at your dad. Stevie loves you, just as much as I do, okay? We won’t ever, ever hurt you like that. Promise.”

The windows are open, so Bucky knows Steve can hear him. Sure enough, when he looks up, the blonde is staring at them through the windshield with a guilty look on his face. Bucky glares at him, and Steve deflates even farther before coming back around to climb in the truck. He reaches for Tony, gently tugging him from Bucky’s arms to wrap him up in a hug. The brunette goes easily, wrapping the fingers of his good hand tightly in Steve’s shirt.

“Bucky’s right. We love you. We’re gonna do whatever we can to protect you.”

He tucks a finger under Tony’s chin, lifting his head up until their eyes meet. Steve gives him his most loving, reassuring smile.

“There you are. In a couple months, you’ll be eighteen and then you’ll graduate. And then we’re gonna take you away. Away from this house, and away from that monster. Wherever you wanna go. Doesn’t matter, as long as you’re safe and with us. Right, Buck?”

There’s the rustle of fabric as Bucky slides across the seat, and then he’s plastered against Tony’s back. He presses a kiss to the top of the younger boy’s head, and then one to the back of his neck.

“Got that right. We’re gonna disappear, somewhere he can’t find you. Can’t find us. And then we can just be Steve and Bucky and Tony. We can be whatever we want to be.”

Tony sighs, looking from Steve to Bucky and back. What they’re saying sounds so good, but a part of him feels like it’s unreachable. That he could never be free from Howard’s abuse. But another part of him, a rapidly growing part, wants to believe it. They make him want to believe it.

“Promise?”

Steve holds him a little tighter, reaching up to wrap a hand around the back of Bucky’s skull to pull him closer too until their foreheads touch.

“Yeah, Tony. We promise. It’s gonna be ok.”

So cut the headlights Keep rolling 'til the sun We'll fight the good fight When tomorrow has come And it's easy pretending we're alright 'Cause we live free, at least

Until the lights

#stb bingo #stuckony #stuckony fic

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lovemesomesurveys · 3 years

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Thought I Couldn't Top It, Huh? OVER 2000 Questions! (Truly the Longest!) Created by distortedcognition

Part 14 Which Age is this Appropriate For... Radios. Whenever. Gardening. I know that elementary school kids do gardening projects sometimes, so as long as they have adult supervision and help when using the gardening tools and they’re able to use them properly I don’t see a problem. Lava lamps. I had one when I was a kid. Black lights. Uhh, I don’t see why a kid or teenager would have a use for one, but a teen could I guess. Hovercrafts. Teenager. Cars. When they’re the legal age to get their permit and license at least. And responsible enough. Not all teenagers should be out on the road that’s for sure, but there’s a lot of adults who shouldn’t be either. Spaghetti straps. Teenager. Hopscotch. As soon as they can walk? My Little Pony. Whenever.

Barbies. Whenever. Tonka trucks. Whenever. Edgar Allan Poe. Probably teenager to likely understand it better. MySpace. Social media should be teenager at least. The Internet in general. Kids can use it, but with parental guidance and have all the safety settings in place. The time should be limited as well, and educational stuff included. Neopets. Again, kids can use stuff like that just be monitored. Quizilla. Teenager. Vampirefreaks. Teenager. Disney. Same thing I’ve said already about kids using the internet. Lizzie McGuire. Teenagers would probably enjoy it more, but it’s also kid appropriate I think. Beauty and the Beast. Kids can watch it if they want. Elton John. I mean, whenever really. I don’t find his music to be inappropriate. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Again, whenever really. Probably nice to start young children on classical music. Bauhaus. I don’t know what that is. Satanism. Uh, I would say never. Biolage. ?? Hair curlers. Whenever. Hairspray. I mean, I guess whenever but I don’t see why a kid would need to. I guess in some cases if they’re like a cheerleadr, ballet dancer, etc where they have to have their hair done and kept in place. Nail polish. I don’t see an issue with kids wearing it. Short skirts. I’d say young adult. Bikinis. I’d say young adult as well, but I guess mid to late teens. Tanning. When done right and safe, I don’t see why a teen couldn’t get a natural tan or use some tanning lotion. I don’t see the need for spray tans and tanning beds, personally. Fun. Uh, all ages? When to form your own band. Teenager. Playing the piano. Kid. But if that’s what they want to do, not something they’re pressured to do by their parents. It should be fun and encouraged, not something forced. Staying home alone. Teenager and if they’re responsible enough to do so. Videogames. Depends on the type of game. Dora the Explorer. Kids. The Little Mermaid. Kids. Eminem. Teenager. PLAGIARIZING. No one should. Voting. 18. Perfume. Probably teenager, but I would say body spray over perfume at that age. Makeup. Teenager. Accessorizing. Whenever. Finding Nemo. Whenever. Pirates of the Caribbean. Whenever. Swearing. I would say adult, but we know that’s not happening. Going to war. At least 18 I guess. Sports. Whenever, just if it’s done safe and age appropriate. Having a child. Adult who is responsible and ready to do so would be ideal. Getting married. Adult. Living on your own. Adult. Teen Spirit. Teen?

Lady Speed Stick. Oh, Teen Spirit the deodorant haha I’m dumb. Anyway, whenever they hit puberty and start needing it. Cologne. Teenager. NASA. Adult.

Going on a cruise. Whenever. College. Young adult and up is how it usually goes, but some teenagers are able to get into college. Graduating from high school. Teen. Going to the movies without a parent. Teen. Santa Claus. Hey, as long as you want. Easter Bunny. Whenever. Tooth fairy. Whenever. Bird watching. Whenever, I guess? Coin collecting. Whenever. Housekeeping. You can give kids light chores, nothing too crazy. Like to pick up their toys. Pink Panther. Whenever. Sherlock Holmes. Probably middle school school and up. Oscar Wilde. Teenager. RL Stine. I was reading Goosebumps in elementary school. Lemony Snicket. Elementary school. JK Rowling. Elementary school. Terry Brooks. Not sure who that is. Alvin Schwartz. ^^^ JRR Tolkein Probably teenager. Charles Dickens. Probably middle school. Ernest Hemingway. Middle school. Green Day. Teenager. Ghost stories. I mean, it can. be fun for kids but keep it light and appropriate and if they’re scared then obviously stop. Law and Order: SVU. Teenager. Campfires. Kids can do it if they’re with adult supervision. Sleepovers. Kids. Sleepover parties. What’s the difference? American Idol. Whenever.

Freckles. Whenever?? That’s not something you can control and they’re just freckles... Whitened teeth. Teenager at least. Plastic surgery. Adult. Community service. Depends on what they’re doing. I did some volunteer work as a Girl Scout when I was a kid. What will Happen/How will the world End? **I’m skipping this.** Giant tornado. Nuclear war. Giant tsunami. A title wave. An asteroid. Explosion of the sun. Giant volcanic erruption. Giant freak afternoon tea accident. Giant missile crisis. Another Great Depression. Only worse. Earthquake. Penguins will take over the world. Parrots become the dominant. Alien invasion. Bigfoot will invite his pals over, Bighead, Bighands, and Bigtummy. Lochness monster will have children. Everyone will turn cannibalistic. Everyone will run out of natural resources. Third Ice Age. Global warming. Precambrian Eon will return. Toxic fumes. Disappearing water. Planet collision. Termites. George W. Bush will get a third reelection. Everyone will commit suicide. Intergalactic highway construction. Intergalactic spies like Kiri will take over. PLAGIARISTS will rule the world. Lions will eat us all. Cockroaches will rule the world. A pandemic. The Black Plague will avenge itself. Mythical creatures will come back and reclaim their world. The Big Bang will reoccur. Pesticide will kill all the insects in the world. The Earth will spontaneously combust. The world will collapse. Genocide. All the money will burn. Cell phones really did cause brain tumors. Karma will kill us. All the stars in the universe will explode at once. Ghosts will kill us. A giant fan will blow us away. Pizza Hut will explode. Hair curlers will burn us all. Everyone will get a perm and die of fright from looking at each other. Grandmas will turn rabid. PLAGIARISTS will make Reko and Kiri angry. The Mohorovicic Discontinuity will disappear. Daddy Long Legs will get a larger mouth. People get so lazy that their lawn will grow too high to allow sunlight in. Twinkle will succeed as a dictator. Star will become president. Biotech disaster. People will not actually save money switching to Geico. Cingular and Verizon will never join. Pollution. Giant feet. o.o Everyone will become a movie copycat. Pandemonium at football games will get a little too extreme.

#personal #text #survey #surveys #over 2000 questions survey series part 14 #about me #long survey

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n1ghtm3ds · 4 years

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my 100 ideas

Most of these totally suck but i wrote 100 of them so let me know if any of them sound like something you would read or have any ideas for how to spice them up with blood and gore and how to get the most shock possible out of the idea.

-Two girls become drifter killers to fund the abortion of father-daughter incest

- Zombies like EDM and converge on a rave, replacing the drugged up crowd with nobody noticing

-human farming and a cannibal restaurant

-girls discover fairies and torture them

-two pageant stars become pro-ana superstars

-people earn points in an online game called “Calligula” by committing crimes and filming them

-A boy befriends a vampire trucker and reminds him of his last mortal love

-mall goths murder a “poser” in the woods

- De sade as a transcript of a hurtcore chatroom

-neighborhood kids who congregate at “dirt Hill” bully a child to death who comes back and haunts them in their teens

-A suicide club starts at a highschool

-Oliver twist remake where they are prostitutes instead of thieves

-A glitch in time leaves a rapist turned into a child and lands him at the mercy of his victim

-killer caterpillars

-Aliens that can only get you if you think of them

-A bulimic girl vomits up a baby

-Monsters live in the sand of a beach

-Experiments done on kids to turn them into weapons

-A pedophile on the run with his victim writes a fake memoir supposedly penned by the victim about murdering his family to escape

-Women storm the white house to torture/kill a rapist president

-An exchange studentl living in germany is called upon by the ghosts of a murdered jewish family to kill the family next door who are descendants of the nazis that killed them

-addicts at the end of the world trying to stay high

-anti-aging cream is made of dead 3rd world babies

-Bigfoot, our protagonist, tries to befriend a group of campers but accidentally kills them all off

-Prtending to be underaged, a girl traps a sadist pedophile in his own BDSM dungeon

-An american pedophile in asia becomes possessed by the ghost of a little girl killed in a brothyl

-a girl mutilates herself in her room in an attempt to look “beautiful” by cutting off all the features she finds ugly

-Satanists overtake a christian summer camp for SRA rituals

-A girl who is being molested’s dolls com to life in order to kill her stepfather, told from the POV of her favorite teddy bear

- A girl falls in love with a ghost who she can only see when she asphyxiates so she becomes hooked on duster

-A mute autistic girl befriends a demon who gets vengeance on her bullies

-Two DID alters fall in love and write love letters to each other in a diary even though they can never exist at the same time, plan revenge on church gardner who abused the host and caused the split in an attempt to be whole

-A child who killed another child is released from prison upon turning 18. When another child goes missing he must solve the mystery to clear his name with the help of his murder victim’s sister (who turns out to be the real killer)

-An adopted girl, upon turning 18, searches for her birth family only to discover a human puppy mill

-Two little boys abduct and murder another at a carnival and watch the panic unravel as the adults search for him

-A cult leader drives his followers to mass suicide

-A mother and daughter break a murderer out of jail and fight for his affections

-a school adopts lobotomies for problem students

-A human trafficker crosses paths with a telekinetic child

-An adopted girl finds out she is the blood heir to an enormous hurtcore ring

-A woman becomes aware that she is a character in a story and begins fighting the writer, who plans to write her into a tragedy

-a rich girl who has spent her life in a self sufficient high rise accidentally hits a lower-floor elevator button to discover that the zombie apocalypse has been happening for over a decade

-The son of a truck stop stripper living motel to motel comes across a magic pack of cigarettes that each grant a wish when smoked. In the end he gives his last one to his mom and she wishes he was never born and he disappears.

-An abusive troubled teen camp in the wilderness combats a masked slasher

-Activists free elephants at a circus but are captured by sadistic clowns

-Patient zero of a zombie virus goes around infecting hundreds of people through her work in a fast food chain because she cant take paid time off

-A vigilante caring for her murdered best friend’s infant has to take out a chain of criminals while still keeping up with the overwhelming task of motherhood

-A new club drug goes around the rave scene, highly addictive, eventually turns you into a zombie but so addictive people cant stop using it

-A girl wakes up and lives the same day out 100 times, with each day becoming more gruesome and out of control as she tries to stop the death of her best friend from happening

-A woman with no memories is arrested for involvement in a hurtcore ring

-Teens in a mental hospital after a rash of suicide attempts begin to die in strange accidents around the hospital

-A girl singer rising to fame realizes shes being prepared to be sacrificed by a death cult

-A boy who accidentally murdered his sister as a child becomes obsessed with a local girl who looks like she would have grown up to and stalks her, killing everybody close to her to “get his sister back” for his dying mother

-after trying acid for the first time a college girl is dragged back in time and witnesses the slaughter of the natives by settlers and is taken in by a native family fighting back

-A conscious zombie takes out a white supremecist stronghold

-Teens at a christian youth retreat battle a tentacle monster that feeds on virginity

-A haunted house bonds with the family that it is killing after falling in love with the lonely teenage daughter

-After abuse in the industry, a porn star seeks revenge against the producer who abused her, rendering her infertile

-A little girl who lives in a funeral home forms a bond with a senile old man who believes her to be his dead wife reincarnated

-A cursed school play production where the creepy theater teacher has a deal with the devil to sacrifice the lead girl, who grows a thirst for blood

-Upon puberty a girl starts to gruesomely turn into a mermaid despite her family’s assurances that these changes are beautiful and special

-a homeless prostitute forces her son to be her daughter in order to scam and kill pedophile men

-somebody nearby dies whenever a child sucks her thumb and she tries to break the habit

-after discovering her beloved guide dog is a demonic hell hound who needs human flesh to survive, a blind girl goes about finding deserving victims for him to eat

-A band of punk rockers find themselves set upon by nazis after one is killed at their show, the nazis have super-meth

-Everyday life in a small town is disrupted when the residents awake to find themselves living with grotesque cartoon physics

-A date-rapist catches an STD that turns his penis sentient and against him

-A boy who has never seen the sunlight is identified as a kidnapped infant and returned to his family, who have no idea how to handle his PTSD

-A tween popstar’s lyrics contain satanic messages that make his fans killers they kill their families and go on robbing sprees to afford his concerts

-A prim and proper young woman crosses a zombie-infested city to reunite with her (female) childhood best friend who she is in love with

-A chubby loner girl suddenly becomes an asset to her girl scout camp when it is set upon by monsters that only she knows how to fight from reading about them in horror books

-A kidnapped boy realizes he is outgrowing his captor’s attraction and sets out to eliminate the competition of new boys brought into the house

-A redneck boy and his incestuously abusive brother are the lone survivors of a monster attack on their family farm and the boy has to decide if he wants to help his abuser survive or take his chances on his own

-A school for poor children where children are farmed for their organs for the rich

-a young junkie discovers one day that he has the power to regenerate lost body parts

-An interracial group of rich friends finds themselves lost in a bad neighborhood overnightdurring a full moon where the occupants of the neighborhood come alive as werewolves

-A small Amish-type religious community is completely cut off from the world during a monster attack and carry on business with no idea that the outside world has collapsed other than that they’ve stopped receiving letters and newspapers. A team is sent out to scout the damage

-A girl who has her driver's license for the first weekend is held hostage as a getaway driver for two sadistic maniacs on their crime spree

-At a sleepover, two elementary school girls decide to kill another

-An ex-amish girl assimilates herself into society right when a monster attack begins to crumble it and must get back to her family to warn them that the world is ending

-Desade’s 120 days rewritten in the modern day hamptons

-a new diet pill causes moths to take up residence in somebody’s digestive system

-a group of white people go to film the “horrors” of a supposedly cannibal tribe, but when their racist notions are false, they force the people to conform to what they expected to find so they have something for their film

-a “murder circus” where participants pay to torture victims runs into a clash with protestors

-fights to the death like dogfighting but with human children

-a young man gives himself up to a sadist to pay off his sister’s drug debt

-A young woman working in the crime scene clean up business tries to shelter her own daughter from the horrors of the world by locking her in their apartment and becoming more and mor agoraphobic

-A home invasion turns the tables when the serial would-be-rapists/robbers break into the home of female vampires

-In the aftermath of the end of the world, a small tribe of hardened cannibalistic survivors now have to face forced assimilation back into society

-Trapped in a building with an active shooter, a group of elementary school kids fight back with school supplies

-An international tour group of study abroad students become stranded in the alps with a snow monster

-a team of serial killers/lovers is put to the test when one of them gets a woman pregnant and decides he wants to quit killing and become a normal person

-A teenage punk with a specialty for giving piercings turns into a back-ally abortionist in a wealthy suburb

-Twins who share a body and each have a head get into a feud over a lover and attempt to separate

-A group of racists find themselves cursed by a flesh-eating virus that starts with a change in skin pigment

-Racists hunting illegal immigrants come up on the wrong side of a desert spirit after destroying water left out by humanitarian groups

-A police force in a poor city is hit with a curse that transform them into flesh hungry pig-monsters and the local youth must take them out to protect their neighborhood

-A massive flood turns into a struggle for survival for a dorm building full of art students

-A woman is convinced that her son, conceived through a rape, is a demon

-A mental hospital during a zombie outbreak

#writeblr

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softest-cinnamon-roll · 5 years

Note

You caught me doing something dangerous and flipped out + reddie

not exactly something that I thought would come from this prompt, but here we go anyway! I hope you enjoy Amelia!

Warning for Character Death in this.

Read on AO3

* * * * *

“Fuck no. Absolutely no. No way.” Eddie shook his head, blocking the door with his smaller, yet somewhat toned body. There was no way he was letting Richie pass him and go out there into what was essentially a danger zone. It had taken them way too long to find a safe space for Richie to risk giving it away.

Richie wasn’t having it though, and he stepped closer to Eddie, a gun strapped over his shoulder, the blood and dirt still stained on his cheeks. He shook his head at Eddie, trying to push past him but his body was lankier than Eddie’s, and he definitely wasn’t stronger. “Move, Eds.”

The losers were all gathered in a small safe house Stan had located on one of his missions to find food. In the past few weeks, Beverly had caught a cold and it had turned into an infection with a fever. She was getting worse and Eddie, the medic of the group, knew they had to find a safe and indoor place for her to sweat it out.

Eddie wasn’t even sure what had happened. One moment, he was snuggled up at the Quarry with Richie and the next there was some…dead thing crawling out of the bushes and rushing towards them. When they had made it into town and found the other losers, it was clear that something was terribly wrong.

In usual Richie fashion, he had made continuous jokes about the whole epidemic. It’s a zombie apocalypse, Eds! We are in a real life zombie apocalypse! None of them were funny because they were true, and no one knew what to do, or where to go. They had all piled into Richie’s truck and drove out of Derry, encountering their fair share of ‘zombies’ on the way.

They were all alone in a world full of brain eating monsters, and each and every one of them were fucking terrified. Yet, the whole ordeal never really truly sunk in until Bill was attacked. It had happened so fast and Eddie only barely missed being hit himself. It was just Bill and Eddie on the mission, trying to locate a pharmacy for simple medication when a ‘zombie’ had jumped out from the trees, skimming past Eddie and knocking Bill to the ground. By the time that Eddie had smashed the ‘zombie’s’ head in and pushed it off of Bill, he had already taken a huge chunk out of Bill’s arm.

As much as Eddie didn’t want to do it, he knew deep down that when Bill passed away he would just be reanimated as one of them, and any trace of their friend would be gone. Bill knew it was also the case and only nodded at Eddie, tears streaming down his face.

With tears in his eyes, and shaky hands, Eddie had pulled out his dagger and proceeded to stab Bill through the chest, before smashing his head in with the boulder, ensuring he would not come back. He had carefully made his back to the group, without Bill and broke the news. That night, they had all sat curled around each other, mourning for their lost friend.

After that, Eddie became much more vigilant. He always made sure there were at least three people on a mission and that they were well equipped to deal with any sudden surprise attacks. They all did regular exercises to build up their body strength so that if they did in fact, encounter a zombie, they at least could hold their own.

Guns were also out of the question. Eddie has seen 28 Days Later enough times to know that loud noises would attract them, and as soon as one hears you the others will simply follow. Mike had protested at first, but eventually he realised that Eddie was right, and there was no way they were losing another member of the losers club. No way.

It seemed though, that right now, Richie had completely forgotten about their system and it was really beginning to get on Eddie’s nerves. “Richie, sit the fuck down and we can figure this out in the morning,” he hissed. He loved Richie, he really did. He was the love of his life, but sometimes Eddie just wanted to smack him across the face.

“Bev is sick!” Richie snapped, glaring at Eddie. In their whole relationship, the only time they ever really fought was over Eddie’s mother and his need to please her. Since this whole thing began, they had always been on each other side. Until now. “She needs antibiotics and Stan said there was a hospital not far from here when he came back from the mission with Mike and Ben! I could go, get the medicine and be back in no time!”

Eddie held back his need to scream, shaking his head, “You don’t- you don’t understand! You can’t go out there on your own. Now turn around and go back to the group. We can get Bev medicine in the morning, she even said so herself!”

A look passed across Richie’s face before he nodded and sighed, returning to the group. Eddie waited by the door for a few more moments before he followed him. For the first time in a long time, Eddie fell asleep without Richie’s arms around him.

The sleep must have only lasted around an hour or so, because when Eddie woke up in need for the toilet, he realised that Richie was gone. Panic filled in his gut and he searched the whole house from top to bottom, waking everyone up in the process. Tears were streaming down his face as he realised that Richie had left and gone to the hospital without telling them. He didn’t even leave a fucking note.

Due to the fact that he was terrified out of his mind that he might never see his boyfriend again, Eddie had no room to be angry at Richie, even though he really wanted to be. The night soon turned into day and the sickening feeling only worsened in Eddie’s stomach. What if Richie had been attacked? What if he was bleeding out on the street? What if he was one of those things?

Just as the last thought left Eddie’s mind and the sun was just beginning to rise, the door to the safe house opened and Richie stumbled in, bloody and dirty. Stan was the first to his side, wrapping an arm around his waist as he helped him into the living room.

Still unable to be angry, Eddie rushed over to his boyfriend, searching every inch of his skin for any sign of a ‘zombie’ bite. Richie didn’t object, letting Eddie make sure he was okay for his own sanity before he handed over the bag full of medicine. As soon as Eddie realised that Richie was fine and he had the medicine, the anger was back and he grabbed the bag from him, storming into the room where Bev was. He had to make sure his friend was alright first.

Once he had administered the antibiotic to Bev’s system, Eddie walked back into the living room, where Richie was chilling on the couch. “You are so fucking stupid. I can’t believe you did that.”

Richie looked up, tilting his head to the side in confusion, “Eds it’s fine. I’m fine. Bev is fine.”

“That is not the fucking point!” Eddie hissed and Richie stopped short, blinking at Eddie as if he had been punched. “I told you to wait until morning when two other people could go with you! I fucking told you that it’s safer in groups and you ignored me and went off on your own! You risked all of our lives!”

“What the fuck?” Richie rolled his eyes a little. “Eds, you’re being so over dramatic. You guys were here and I was the one out there. The only life at risk was my own.”

Eddie’s eyes darkened and he scoffed just a little, “What? You think that if you didn’t come back we’d all just forget about you and move on? You think we wouldn’t have gone out looking for you? Putting ourselves at risk to find you? This- this isn’t a game Richie! This is real life and you fucking- fuck! You are just so fucking stupid!”

With that, Eddie stormed away and up the stairs of the house into one of the bedrooms. Tears of anger were in his eyes and he harshly wiped them away, taking in a few shaky breaths. He had no idea how long he sat up there, alone and in the cold, but it was dark when the door knocked and Richie stuck his head in. “Can I come in?”

The anger was no longer there, instead it was replaced with hurt and the resting fear of losing Richie. “Yeah, come in,” he whispered. Richie crossed the room and sat on the bed next to Eddie, pulling him into his arms. “You were so stupid,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

“I know,” Richie whispered, running his fingers through Eddie’s hair. His hands were cleaner now, so Eddie assumed he must have washed up before coming to find him. “I know Eds, and I know I wasn’t thinking. I’m so sorry for putting everyone at risk. I just- I wanted to be able to do something for once. It’s always you, Stan and Mike who go on the main missions and I- I just wanted to be useful.”

Eddie looked up, his eyes wide as more tears filled up, “Richie- you are useful. Your boy scout experience and your trips with your dad give you the knowledge of how to cook food. None of us know how to do that, or how to build a fire or how to break into a house. That’s all on you. We’d be screwed without you. Just because you aren’t out on missions doesn’t mean you’re not useful.”

Richie leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together and he leaned in, pressing a light kiss to Eddie’s lips. Right now, life was too short to stay mad at the person who made the world a little bit brighter and Eddie knew that. “I love you, Eds.”

Life was going to get a whole lot worse before it got better. They were going to encounter way more problems and possibly suffer more losses. As long as they have each other though, Eddie was sure that they could take on anything the world threw at them.

“I love you too, Rich. I love you too.”

* * * * *

@richietoaster @tozier-boy @eds-trashmouth @bitchbrak @sloppybitchreddie @its-stranger-than-you-think @maximusfraker @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @thejadeazalea @halfway-happy353 @tinyarmedtrex @inthebreadbinwrites @kat-ships-everything @takeourpure @lo-v-ers @mrs-vh @studpuffin @s-s-georgie @reddie-for-anything @trashmouthtozierr @richietoizer @girasol-eddie @bi-bi-richie @honeybeehanlon @mars-14 @reddiesetandgo @marsisaplanetyall @xandertheundead @sedanleystanley @hawkinsbabe @beepbeeprichiellc @stellarbisexual @oldguybones @thundercatseddie @eduardoandale @purplepoisonedgem @reddie-to-cryy @pink-psychic @violetreddie @fuzzylogik @queen-sock @appojoos @moonlightrichie @rreddies @disneyfan567 @annxmatron @lifesucksheres20bucks @anellope @roobarrtrashmouth @are-you-reddie-for-it @callmechee @nancynwheeler @reddieforlove @twoidiotsinl0ve @madi-artist @tozierking

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #writing tag #tw zombies #tw character death

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quinnybee-writes · 5 years

Text

Title: Fire Meet Gasoline

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia

Rating: T+

Part: 6/?

Story Summary: A chance encounter between a villain and vigilante leads to an unwise deal made between unlikely allies; an unwise deal made between unlikely allies ends in a final stand neither would have ever dared to take on alone. Together, though, they just might have a fighting chance.

Part 6 Summary: Favor number two tests the patience of one and the mettle of another, leaving uncertainty about both in its wake.

Part 1 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 2 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 3 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 4 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 5 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 6 on AO3

I swear to god if if I have to sit through one more meeting where I get voluntold to pick up another department’s slack in the same sentence as management trying to cut my intern’s hours I’m going to chug a two-liter of Surge and burp so loud I bring this whole mfer down with me.

Shouta stared at his phone, his sleep-addled brain trying to make sense of whether Yamada meant the text as a threat or not. He’d been catching a quick power nap in the back of his truck during his lunch hour and had been most of the way asleep when the rattle of his phone on the metal floor jolted him awake again. Not helping his attempt to dissect the meaningless hyperbole was Yamada’s follow up text of lmao it u along with a gif of a cat trying to jump from a bed to a dresser and falling halfway with the caption “parkour!”. He wouldn’t put it past Yamada to be the type to threaten in one breath and quote a meme in the next, but he couldn’t wrap his brain around why Yamada would be sending him incriminating evidence via text message during work hours.

Two new messages came in quick succession as Shouta was trying to puzzle things out.

Oh my god

Those were supposed to go to my sister holy shit

So not an admission or a threat, just an idiot with a cell phone. Shouta groaned, eyes rolling back in his head in disgust at how much energy he had wasted on taking Yamada seriously yet again.

forget it Shouta sent back.

Cute cat pic for ur trouble? Yamada replied along with a picture of a gangly black cat with bright yellow eyes. The cat was sprawled on its back in a pile of kibble and the shredded scraps of a cat food bag. Shouta snorted, grinning a little in spite of himself at the self-satisfied look on the cat’s fuzzy little face.

cute he texted, trying to distill as much exhaustion and disinterest into the single word as possible.

That’s Ai-chan. She’s a monster, but she’s my monster <3

So what are you up to? Break from work?

Shouta sighed, rubbing his temples. It was impossible to freeze out someone who was so willing to keep the conversation going without outside input.

trying to catch some sleep before afternoon deliveries Shouta replied as pointedly as he could.

Oof. Busy night?

do you need something? Shouta asked, stabbing the send key a little harder than he really needed to. There was a short, offended pause from Yamada’s end of the line; Shouta could picture him looking down at his phone with that little not-quite-pouting moue he always made when things weren’t going his way.

I guess not.

The curt punctuation seemed to signal Yamada had finally gotten the point, just in time to exhaust the last of Shouta’s free time before he had to get going again. Shouta put his phone into his pocket and made a point to not check it again until he was walking home. Waiting for him was another gif, this time of a pair of hands vigorously shaking a bottle of Surge, followed by a message that just said Oh goddammit. Shouta rolled his eyes and deleted the thread without replying.

The perceived slight only kept Yamada at bay for a short time, however. Now that he’d gotten a taste of the man’s texting habits Shouta had to wonder how Yamada managed to get anything done. No matter when his breaks were during the day it seemed like Yamada always had some new meme or gif or general workplace complaint to gift him with in the meantime, whether it was before dawn or after dark or occasionally both.

do you actually have a job or do they just pay you to bother me? Shouta finally asked as he waited at an interminable red light several days later. Yamada had been on a spree that morning, flooding his inbox with an illustrated play-by-play of Ai-chan’s newest misdoings while Shouta had four straight hours of back-to-back deliveries.

Excuse you, Yamada texted back loftily, I am an integral part of station management! Who occasionally may or may not take extra long bathroom breaks to avoid getting roped into being more integral than I already am.

my bad. clearly you’re just doing your part to prevent asahi radio from being razed via belch Shouta replied, snorting out a laugh before he could stop himself. He paused, frowning. That was both new and unwelcome.

Yamada sent back a long line of laugh-crying emojis followed by Look who grew a sense of humor just in time to drag me!

don’t act like you know me.

Yeah, yeah. Scout’s honor, I won’t tell anybody you’re actually funny.

Shouta scowled, dropping the phone onto the seat next to him and pulling through the light as it finally turned green. Despite the chilly weather he rolled his window down to get some airflow on his face. He hadn’t turned on the truck’s heater yet but his cheeks already felt way too warm.

Shouta spent his next day off drinking too much coffee at the cat cafe while he tried to reign in the chaos that his computer desktop had become. His phone buzzed on the table beside him and Shouta swiped in the passcode with one hand while the other was dragging a huge load of defunct backup files to his computer’s trash. He’d sooner walk into traffic than admit it to Yamada, but having a passcode on his phone was turning out to be less of an inefficient hassle that he’d always thought it would be and did make him less anxious about putting it places that weren’t his pocket or his hand.

As if waiting for the thought to cue him in, the alert was for yet another of Yamada’s early-morning memes. This time it was a gif of a kitten trying to stay awake before it wobbled and flopped out of frame. Yamada’s accompanying caption read That midweek feeling hitting hard today along with an emoji of a sleeping face with a snot bubble.

it’s monday Shouta texted back.

When you work 24/7 it’s always midweek, Yamada replied.

implying you work at all. still not convinced.

I resent that, Aizawa. It takes a lot of skill and determination to shovel this much shit and still have spare time to be a full-time pain in the ass.

Shouta almost allowed himself a laugh at that, but the air caught in his throat at Yamada’s next question.

So, do you do all of your important hero research on the public wifi at kitty cafes, or is today a special occasion?

What do you mean? Shouta asked warily.

Behind you.

Shouta turned slowly, dreading what he knew he was about to see. Yamada was standing on the sidewalk outside, grinning at him over the top of his cell phone. He gave Shouta a little wave before sauntering in and up to the counter. He chatted amiably with the baristas as they made his order. Shouta frowned to himself, trying to work out the quickest way to pack up his belongings while disturbing as few sleeping cats as possible. The moment came and went too quickly, however, as Yamada came over with two cups of coffee in his hands.

“Black with one sugar, right?” Yamada said. He slid one of the steaming mugs in front of Shouta. “That’s what they said anyway,” he added, nodding up towards the counter.

“What are you doing here?” Shouta asked coolly. Yamada frowned at him.

“I was on my way to the post office to mail a couple things and empty the station P.O. box and saw you in the window,” Yamada said. “I figured we could sit and chat since we both have a minute.”

“You just kind of assume you’re welcome wherever you decide to be, don’t you?” Shouta said.

Yamada snorted. “If that’s the worst thing someone tells me about myself today, I’ll count it as a win,” he replied, toasting Shouta with his coffee cup. He invited himself to sit down in the only chair not currently occupied by cats. “Wait, is that a spreadsheet with my name on it?” he added with sudden interest, arching his neck around to peek at Shouta’s screen. Shouta slammed the lid of his laptop shut, feeling his face heating.

“Do you need something?” Shouta asked, trying to redirect the conversation and get Yamada back on his way as quickly as possible.

“Just caffeine and conversation,” Yamada shrugged. “Is it illegal to ask someone about their day?”

“Implying you care about whether or not you’re doing something illegal,” Shouta replied curtly. To his annoyance Yamada just chuckled and shrugged.

“I mean, you’ve got me there,” he said. “So, what are you working on?” Yamada added, lowering his tone just slightly.

“Catching up on some things,” Shouta said, intentionally vague. “Organizing research. It takes longer when you’re doing it on your own.”

“I bet,” Yamada agreed. “Would probably save you some time and effort to have a permanent back door into places you’re not supposed to be, huh?” He said it with a too-even speculation that set Shouta instantly on edge.

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” Shouta said.

“I know people who know things,” Yamada said with a broad, conspiratorial grin over his coffee mug. “Keeping your friends close and your enemies closer is a lot easier when you can tell which is which.”

Shouta felt a frisson of discomfort run up his spine at the implication of where Yamada considered him to be on that spectrum. “I think I liked it better when you were threatening me,” he muttered. “Don’t make more of that than there is,” he added quickly as Yamada’s smile grew cheeky and he opened his mouth to comment. Yamada did his annoying little not-quite-pouting pout and let out a quiet “hmph” at his joke being preempted.

“In any case, you probably don’t need me to tell you how to crack a secure password,” Yamada said. “Even when they’re clever they’re usually related to either the one who sets them or the thing they’re locking up, or they’re something pseudo-random cooked up by a number generator. Sometimes they get stupid-clever and try to do all three.”

“Mmn?” As bored as he was trying to sound, Shouta couldn’t help taking mental notes on what Yamada was saying. Yamada was a flippant trouble-maker from the word go but there were moments where he displayed actual talent for the things he claimed to be an expert in.

“Oh yeah,” Yamada said. “They’re trying for layers of security, but too many moving parts makes passwords way easier to out-think. Codes are only as smart as the people who write them, y’know?”

“And you know how smart they are?” Shouta asked, trying to keep his tone casual as he goaded Yamada into staying on a roll. Yamada caught his drift a little too well, however, and the sharp, meaningful grin came out again.

“I know people who know things,” he said again. “I’d be willing to let you in on a few trade secrets for the low, low price of a certain five-letter word beginning with ‘f’.”

Shouta snorted. “Hard pass.”

“Well, I tried,” Yamada said, shrugging. He checked the time on his phone and sighed. “That’s about my lot, I’m afraid. Gotta get back before the world ends.” He stood and stretched with a groan. “We should do this again sometime. Maybe talk less shop.” The offer seemed oddly genuine and Shouta wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that.

He tried to get back to work after Yamada left, but his concentration had been thoroughly broken. He bought another coffee and turned on some neutral background music; his brain, however, was no longer in the mood to stare at a screen and try to riddle out what his new sub-folders should be called. Finally Shouta dislodged the many cats who had taken up residence in and around his lap and packed up his laptop to see if fresh air on the walk home and a change of venue might help get him back on task.

Shouta nudged his apartment door closed with his heel, scooping the mess of envelopes out of his mail bin. It was mostly the normal jumble of junk and bills, but amongst the shuffle was a thin white payroll envelope with his name and address on the front in too-familiar spidery handwriting. Just going to empty the station mailbox indeed, Shouta thought with a groan. Yamada was way too fond of theatrics. He tossed the envelope onto his sofa without opening it and delayed paying it any attention until he’d put everything away, showered, and had a lengthy play session with his cats. If it was unimportant enough for Yamada to not just hand it over when they were in the same room together, Shouta told himself, then there was no need for him to bend over backwards to pay attention to it the instant he got home.

Finally his excuses ran out and he tore the envelope open. Inside were two pieces of paper folded separately into sharp thirds. The first was a handwritten note on Asahi Radio letterhead that read:

Aizawa-

I need a favor. I have a line on something but doing it alone might be tricky. You’ll just be the go-between, nothing dire. Meet me Friday, 9pm sharp.

-M

Also included was another of Yamada’s meticulously notated hand-drawn maps, at the other end of which was a complex of storage units bordered on all sides by a spike-topped chain link fence. Shouta peered into the dark, abandoned-looking guard booth, wondering if the first step to tonight’s goings-on was having to find his own way inside.

“Hey, you made it!”

Shouta turned to see a dark-haired man slouching up towards him from the other end of the sidewalk. He eyed the man warily, about to say he had the wrong person, but stopped as he stepped into the light and raised his sunglasses with a smirk. Yamada had stuffed all of his hair under a short, spiky black wig and a black and green snapback, slicked down his mustache and covered it in a thin layer of skin-colored makeup to blend it in with his face, and buried himself in baggy jeans and a jacket that made him look both heavier-set and a few inches shorter than he actually was. The only things that gave him away were his sharp too-green eyes and his unmistakable grin, full of crafty smugness at Shouta’s open surprise at his appearance. Yamada did a full turnaround of the odd costume, ending the twirl with a dramatic pose.

“Not a bad look for me, huh?” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Shouta snorted. “You look like a washed-up pop star who’s trying to pretend he still has to avoid the paparazzi,” he replied flatly.

To his surprise Yamada let out a burst of full-throated laughter at the remark. Shouta wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Yamada laugh in genuine amusement before now, only the occasional mocking chuckle or triumphant snicker. He had a loud, whinnying kind of laugh that tapered off into short bursts of wheezy, hyena-like giggles behind his hand as he remembered himself and tried to tamp it down.

“Okay, cynical,” Yamada said, still coughing through the last of his laughing fit. “Everyone’s a critic.” He rolled his eyes and gave a flourishy “well, what are you gonna do” kind of shrug. Shouta scowled at him.

“What are we doing here?” Shouta asked, doing his best to ignore Yamada’s grandstanding despite the growing burn of annoyance creeping up his face.

“Just a quick jaunt into my evil lair,” Yamada said cheerfully. He punched an entry code into the number pad next to the guard house, then pressed his thumb to the scanner underneath. The keypad flashed green and beeped an affirmative, and a small portion of the gate swung inward. “C’mon,” Yamada said. He motioned for Shouta to follow him as he led the way through the rows of squat cinder block units to one in the very back left corner of the lot.

“People with money can afford secret basements and underground boltholes wherever they need them,” Yamada said over his shoulder as he bent down to unlock the door of the unit, “but the rest of us have to make do with what we’ve got.” He lifted the door just high enough for himself and Shouta to duck under, then set it back down with a clatter. The unit was pitch-black and humid inside and smelled like a mixture of burnt-out electrical parts, solder, and partially cured epoxy glue. “I’ll get the lights, one sec,” Yamada said. Shouta heard him scrabbling along the wall to find the light switch, then a click. A fluorescent shop light flickered and buzzed to life above them, flooding the unit in intense blue-white light. Yamada turned to Shouta and spread his hands wide. “Taa-daa! Welcome to the inner sanctum.”

It looked more like a high school shop room that had sublet space to a thrift store. The left wall had been covered in a cluster of flat-pack bookshelves, their shelves bowing under a jumble of storage boxes labeled things like “radio parts-LIVE”, “speaker wire”, “tape--sticky”, and “tape--magnetic”. The back wall was one long anchored shelf divided into slots that held overstuffed file folders bundled together with rubber bands and binder clips. The only wall not covered in shelving or projects was taken up with a butcher block work table and a cork board with scribbled notes and schematics pinned to it.

“Kind of rinky-dink, but it gets the job done,” Yamada said fondly. “Anyway. First things first, did you happen to wear the stab vest I gave you?” he asked over his shoulder as he ducked under the work table and retrieved a box marked with today’s date.

“Yeah.” The assurance that his part in tonight would be “nothing dire” had put Shouta on high enough alert that he’d forced himself to put pride aside and opt for personal safety instead.

“Thank god. So, basically what I need is for you to be my stand in while things get underway tonight,” Yamada said. “I’d go on my own, but the meeting place is kind of a...no-go area for me right now due to certain people who frequent it.”

“And you’d rather send me in looking like you instead?” Shouta asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Yamada stared at Shouta like he’d started speaking French.

“What? God, no, what gave you that idea?”

Shouta sighed, silently counting to ten in his head as his patience frayed. “You just said I’m supposed to be your stand in.”

“Oh. Okay, yeah, poor choice of words. Think stunt double, not body double,” Yamada explained. “I just need you to be a good-faith warm body, I’ll be handling the rest with this.” He reached into the box and pulled out something that looked like a cold weather mask had been extruded into a large funnel shape at the bottom edge. Shouta looked from it to Yamada, who was beaming in obvious self-pride.

“Which is…?” Shouta prompted.

“Which is your half of a two-way radio with a built in broadcasting speaker,” Yamada said, turning the top edge inside out to show Shouta the wiring and speakers sewn into it. “At first I thought maybe I could just have you memorize a script and I’d step in if things got too off-book, but you’re not very good at lying under pressure so I wasn’t sure that would fly,” he continued. Shouta wasn’t sure if that was meant as an insult or not. “So instead, we have this to work with. I can use this--” Yamada pulled up his sleeve to show a tiny microphone taped to the inside of his wrist-- “to talk to you or talk as you, depending, as long as I stay within ten or twelve feet of you at all times.” The last part he said in one of his uncomfortably accurate impressions of Shouta’s voice.

“And that’s why you’re dressed like that?” Shouta said.

“Exactly. I’ll have to be close enough to you that the receiver can pick up the signal, and it’ll be way easier to read the room if I’m, y’know, in the room.”

“If you were going to put on a costume and go anyway, why didn’t you just do that and go on your own?” Shouta asked.

Yamada frowned and waved a finger at him like he was scolding a child. “Eh-eh-eh. No questions asked, remember? You know as much as you need to know, and you don’t need to know any more than that. Now stand still so I can get you wired up.”

Shouta grudgingly stood with his arms straight out from his body as Yamada turned him into a human switchboard. With a combination of strategic placement and gaffer tape Yamada ran a long wire with an audio jack on one end and a battery connection on the other from Shouta’s waist up his left side to just under his collar bone. Another wire ran the length of his inner arm from shoulder to wrist and ended in a loop with a switch on it that fit over the first knuckle of his thumb. All he had to do, Yamada said as he taped it all down, was press the switch when he needed to talk to Yamada and let it go when he was finished. “Y’know,” Yamada said, “like those cheap walkie-talkies you used to play with as a kid.”

“I ended up making this a lot bigger at the bottom so that we can hide all of our crimes under it,” Yamada muttered as he slipped the mask over Shouta’s head. He was back in the extreme focus mode Shouta had seen him slip into before, attention laser-focused and the corner of his mouth between his teeth as he connected all the wires and power sources underneath. He pulled an earpiece up under the mask by its wire and stuck it in Shouta’s ear before reaching up to fuss with Shouta’s hair and make sure it was hiding everything sticking above the mask. Shouta shivered involuntarily at the touch, barely resisting the urge to pull away. “With the right top layer all of this should be more or less invisible,” Yamada went on, frowning appraisingly as he took a step back to examine his handiwork. He rummaged through a few things in the box and surfaced with a heavy black zippered jacket. “I had to guess sizes, but I think this one should be close enough.”

Yamada unzipped the jacket and held it out so that Shouta could shrug into it. Shouta eased the jacket on, trying not to disturb the network of wires all over him. Yamada zipped it up almost to the top, open enough to seem casual but still high enough to cover all but the face portion of the mask and its contents. It wasn’t a terrible fit other than being slightly short in the sleeves and restrictive around the shoulders. Shouta bent and twisted his arms, trying to stretch it out without doing damage to the electronic infrastructure. Yamada untied the audiojack end of the main wire from Shouta’s belt loop and stuck it into a small cheap-looking disposable cell phone.

“This should have enough battery to keep a recording of the whole thing,” Yamada said. “Can you give me a quick mic check to make sure everything’s hooked up?”

“Uh. Testing,” Shouta said.

Yamada seemed to like what he saw in the waveforms on the phone’s screen. He smiled in satisfaction before stretching a piece of tape around the back of the phone and carefully taping it into place in Shouta’s pocket. “If we head out right now we should get there early enough to do a few on-site checks,” Yamada said, checking the time. “Shall we?”

The two of them walked a few blocks from the storage unit to a cramped, dim little pub. Yamada walked at tailing distance behind Shouta the whole way, testing the range on the homemade gear by giving Shouta directions to where they were going. The audio was relatively clear if they stayed within Yamada’s estimation of ten or so feet; after they hit closer to the twelve-foot mark it got fainter and fainter until dropping out completely as they reached about fifteen feet. Again Shouta had to wonder why, if they were essentially going to be handcuffed to one another anyway, Yamada couldn’t have just gone undercover by himself.

“Grab a drink at the bar and go sit at one of the high-top tables,” Yamada said as Shouta opened the bar’s door and made his way in. “That’s where he’ll be expecting you.”

“Any advice on how to recognize whoever I’m supposed to be meeting?” Shouta muttered back under his breath.

“No idea, he said he would find you. That’s pretty standard for a meeting like this,” Yamada added before Shouta could protest. “Nobody wants to get jumped outside before negotiations even get underway. Think of it as a blind date, but nefarious.”

Shouta sighed loudly, making sure he hit the switch so that Yamada would hear him. Yamada’s never-ending supply of bad metaphors was the last thing he needed right now.

“Calm down, Aizawa,” Yamada said. “Remember, all you have to do is sit there and look pretty, I’ll handle the talking.” There was a short fizzle of static as Yamada entered the pub and made his way to a secluded booth in the back corner. “Still read me?”

“Yeah.”

“Excellent. What’s your poison?”

“Pardon?”

“Beer? Wine? Shot of whiskey to settle your nerves?”

“You really want alcohol anywhere near all this equipment?” Shouta asked, bewildered.

“It’s just for show, who goes into a bar and doesn’t order anything? You shouldn’t drink anything they serve here anyway, their bartending is a bad joke,” Yamada said dismissively. “I just need to test the audio output and make sure we’re good to go before the main event.”

“Then just do it,” Shouta said shortly. “Didn’t you just say you were going to handle all the talking?”

“Everyone’s a critic,” Yamada muttered again. His usual flippant chill had gained an undertone of cranky tenseness that was less than reassuring. “Can I get a bottle of Sapporo?” Yamada said aloud in Shouta’s voice. Shouta just managed to turn toward the bartender in time for the question to seem natural. The bartender, a smirking woman with long brown hair held back in a red ribbon, gave him an appraising once-over. She seemed to be unimpressed with what she saw.

“Sure,” the bartender said. She reached into a cooler under the counter and came back with the bottle of beer, popping the lid off before placing it on the bar in front of Shouta.

“Thanks,” Yamada said, far more cheerfully than Shouta had ever said the word. Shouta nodded his own thanks and went to go sit at one of the high tables in a cluster near the front. He drummed his heel on the bottom rung of the bar stool. The bar was basically empty and silent other than the bartender’s phone playing lo-fi swing music from a speaker dock behind the bar. Otherwise it was just Shouta and his undrinkable beer killing time.

“Ohshit.” The words came out as a single noise hissed violently in Shouta’s ear, making him jump.

“What?” he hissed back, avoiding the curious look the bartender was giving him.

“Remember how I said there were some people who made this place a no-go area because they want to kill me?” Yamada said, sounding like he was talking through his teeth.

“Yeah?”

“That’s them coming in. Don’t look at them! Have you never been undercover in your life?” Yamada whisper-shouted as Shouta turned to look over his shoulder at the door. Almost immediately he snapped his head back around, trying to be as casual as possible about pulling the jacket’s hood over his head as he saw Takeshiro and his wife coming in and sitting a few tables away.

“You know them?” Shouta asked, hopelessly hoping Yamada actually meant someone else who was still outside.

“Ye-ep,” Yamada said, distaste drawing the word out several syllables longer than it needed to be. “They’re still kind of sore about a certain scene in a certain alley you might be familiar with.” He scoffed, then hissed, “Wait, you know them?” as Shouta’s tone dawned on him.

The alleyway. Shapes in the dark played back in Shouta’s head, fuzzy from time and panic but falling into clearer place with the new context. A short, stringy figure barking orders and bailing when things got complicated; the other taller and stocky and silent with a plant-based Quirk protecting him. Shouta gritted his teeth, annoyed by how clear the connection seemed now that it was right in front of him.

“Takeshiro works on the night crew in package processing. Takes a lot of sick days now that I think of it. I’ve never actually spoken to his wife but I’ve seen her at office parties before,” he said quietly.

“His wife? Ew,” Yamada said.

“You’re telling me they’re villains?” Shouta asked, ignoring him. Yamada snorted.

“So-called. They work for an egomaniac middleman called Seguchi. Hebiko is Seguchi’s left hand, and Takeshiro’s hers.”

“What did you do to make them want to kill you?”

“Their boss did something stupid with information that wasn’t his and got busted. I had nothing to do with it,” Yamada retorted tartly.

“Right, sure,” Shouta said. “Is this going to be a problem?”

“Nah, shouldn’t be,” Yamada said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced. “This is why I planned things this way. No reason to bail out before anything happens.” Shouta was about to protest that it made a lot more sense to leave before there was a problem rather than scrambling when they were in trouble, but Yamada spoke first. “Heads up, you’ve got company.”

“So you’re Null.”

Shouta turned to see a lanky man with brownish hair and a narrow, rattish face standing slouched behind him with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his grubby jeans.

“Potentially,” Yamada replied. “You’re Raimaru?” His impression of Shouta’s voice was dead-on, which was bad enough on its own, but there was something just slightly off about his intonation that made Shouta’s skin crawl.

“That’s what they call me,” the man said. ”Getcha a refill while we talk?” he added, nodding at Shouta’s obviously untouched beer.

“I’m fine, thanks.” Shouta fiddled with the neck of the bottle to make it seem less like a static prop on the table in front of him. Even if Yamada had been against the idea of giving him a script to follow, some guidance on what to do in general might have been nice. He felt stiff and awkward, like a puppet whose puppeteer only had a vague idea of how natural movements worked.

“Suit yourself,” Raimaru shrugged. He ambled off to talk to the bartender, seeming to be doing his best to chat her up as she mixed his drink.

“‘Null’?” Shouta muttered to Yamada.

“Short for ‘nullify’, like your Quirk. Get it?” When Shouta just sighed in reply, Yamada added defensively, “Well, I had to call you something, didn’t I?”

“Did you?”

“What did you want me to say, ‘oh by the by you’ll be meeting my friend Shouta Aizawa, he’s thirty, single, a Scorpio, and lives in a single-occupancy uptown with three cats’?” Yamada retorted.

He technically had a point and Shouta hated that the most out of all the things he hated about this evening so far. Yamada had no time to gloat over the win, however, as Raimaru came back and dropped onto the stool across from Shouta.

“Kind of a hassle, having to be the face of cleaning up all of your boss’s bad behavior, huh? From what I’ve heard he’s got plenty to go around,” Raimaru said. Shouta privately agreed with the sentiment, but Yamada snorted instead.

“I get paid to go where I’m told, not to pass judgements,” Yamada replied stiffly. Shouta resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the defensive bluster. Raimaru laughed for him.

“I dunno about that. There’s plenty of judgement to go around if you want some,” Raimaru said. “Seems like the only books he can get into these days are peoples’ bad ones.”

“You think he gives a damn about anyone’s books other than his own?”

“I’m just saying I know a glorywhore when I see one. He spends all of his time making deals and playing nice and then suddenly people higher than him start going to jail,” Raimaru said. “Happened to Fukawa, happened to Seguchi, happened to Iwata. Hell, everyone knows he snitched and got Hanajima back in the day but Hanajima got shanked in prison and all his men scattered so nobody talks about him anymore.”

Shouta squirrelled the names away to research later, though other than those names Raimaru had said precious little to convince him that he knew much of anything besides Yamada’s surface reputation. So far his assertions had been vague at best and his “work, am I right?” tone was suspiciously chummy, like he was trying to nudge “Null” into letting something incriminating slip out.

“Why is any of this relevant?” Yamada asked. He sounded equally short on patience with Raimaru’s unsubtle attempts at currying favor. Raimaru gave a slightly passive-aggressive shrug.

“There’s a storm coming. A big one, one that’s gonna hit hard and rewrite a lot of rules about who’s in charge and who’s got a boot on their necks. You’re not gonna be in a great spot if you’re working for the Bird, so I thought you’d wanna know there’s better options,” he said. It was the first thing he’d said that sounded like he actually knew what he was talking about and it was not a reassuring change. Yamada, however, seemed unfazed.

“What, some new jumped-up ‘super’ villain with big plans for a criminal utopia?” Yamada said, unimpressed. “Seen ‘em come, seen ‘em go, nothing of value was lost. You asked me to come here because you had something valuable you wanted to trade. Is that still the case, or should I head out and stick you with the tab for wasting my time?”

“So, that’s a ‘no’ from you?” Raimaru asked, still grinning like someone had wired the corners of his mouth behind his ears.

“I didn’t hear a question being asked, but…” All of a sudden Yamada’s voice trailed off in a fizzle of static. Shouta tensed. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Yamada, who met his eye with a look that was not quite panic but was very, very close to it. Yamada tapped his ear questioningly. Shouta twitched his head to the side in a negative. He saw Yamada mouth “Shit!” before his attention snapped back to the problem in front of him as Raimaru let out a short chuckle.

“Never a good idea to use radio signals around me,” Raimaru said smugly. “They usually end up a little...dead.” He casually brought the hand that had been under the table to rest on its surface. It was holding a large pocket knife, which he casually flicked open and closed as he spoke. All of the plastic had been stripped off of the knife, leaving behind just the blades and metal guts holding them together. As Shouta eyed it, the blade began to glow a smokey orange around Raimaru’s fingertips.

“I think we’re done here,” Shouta said, trying to match the off-cadence way Yamada had been using his voice all night.

This only seemed to egg Raimaru on, however, as he cranked his Quirk up another notch. Shouta felt a static prickling like the kind before a huge lightning strike setting the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck on end. A tinny shrilling feedback noise whined through his earpiece, making him jolt and hiss in sudden pain. Shouta gritted his teeth and set his own Quirk on Raimaru instead. A hasty decision, it turned out, as a sudden crash of noise hit him all at once. Yamada’s voice half-shouting in his ear was interlaced with loud snaps of static as the equipment reconnected. Shouta winced at the onslaught, clapping a hand to his ear before he could stop himself. The moment of distraction was all Raimaru needed.

“So the Bird’s doggy wants to bark, huh?” In one fluid motion Raimaru threw what was left in his glass in Shouta’s eyes and hooked a foot under the bottom rung of Shouta’s stool, yanking it from under him. Shouta toppled to the floor, landing hard on his ass and elbows as he futilely tried to catch himself as he fell. He blinked hard, tears streaming as his eyes burned with whatever had been in that glass. Raimaru grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged him partially upright.

“Things could have gone better for you, but it looks like the Bird just likes making things difficult,” Raimaru said.

Shouta dug his fingers into Raimaru’s wrist, trying to wrestle himself free. Raimaru smirked, a violent shock sparking off of his skin and into Shouta’s arm. Shouta let out a bark of agony as his entire arm below the shoulder seized and went numb. Someone else’s hand, large and thick-fingered, ripped his back by the forearm, twisting his hand back and up between his shoulder blades. Shouta stiffened. He hadn’t heard Takeshiro or his wife approaching during the scuffle but it was obvious now they had him surrounded. He thought of the alley and the way they had closed ranks around Yamada, accounting for every avenue of escape except for a one-in-a-million outside intervention. Shouta darted a look over to Yamada. Their eyes met for a split second that lasted an eon. Yamada’s eyes were wide and his face had gone deathly pale as he took in the scene in front of him. He was frozen half in motion, caught between breaking cover to come help and his desire to steer clear of Takeshiro and Hebiko. Shouta’s stomach sank as Yamada dropped his gaze, hunching in on himself and pulling his hat down farther to hide his face.

“Last chance, doggy,” Raimaru said. “That signal was too weak to come from very far away. Point us in the right direction and we’ll let you go, no hard feelings. Otherwise we send you back to your master in pieces.”

He leaned in as he threatened, and Shouta took the opportunity to show him how close was too close. Shouta reared back, then rammed his forehead into Raimaru’s nose at full force. As Raimaru reeled back, Shouta slammed himself back into Takeshiro, sending the man spine-first into the edge of a table. Takeshiro grunted in pain and Shouta twisted away from his grasp as Takeshiro tried to catch himself. Raimaru sank his fist into Shouta’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him, but Shouta managed to activate his Quirk again before Raimaru could shock him. Shouta retaliated with a sharp hook, jamming his fist into Raimaru’s solar plexus with as much force as he could muster. As Raimaru doubled over Shouta grabbed a fistful of his hair and slammed him face-first into the table.

“All right, ENOUGH!” the bartender yelled. She was floating above the bar with a warning look on her face, a thin metal pipe leveled at Shouta’s head. Shouta looked from her to Takeshiro and Hebiko, who had backed off behind their table again, to Raimaru, who was staring up from under his hand with undisguised disgust as he bled onto the table. Shouta took a moment to catch his breath, then released Raimaru. Not bothering to see if Yamada would follow, Shouta took the moment of peace to walk out of the bar.

The night air was cold and made his face feel closed in and sticky under the mask. Shouta jerked it down under his chin, sucking in a hard breath. The adrenaline in his veins felt like a cloying, choking compulsion to just run, escape, flee as fast as he could in any direction that would count as away. His lungs burned nearly as badly as his eyes, every new breath feeling like a sharp stab in the chest. A strange itching slightly farther down his abdomen joined the pain in his chest as he half-sprinted down the sidewalk. Shouta looked down and froze mid-step. The bare metal handle of Raimaru’s knife stuck out of his stomach at an almost perfect perpendicular angle, jammed in so far that the tip was pressing the rough kevlar of his stab vest against his flesh.

“Ho-ly shit that was a whole bunch of something.” Shouta didn’t look up from the knife almost in his gut as Yamada’s voice crowed out behind him. He felt Yamada digging in his pocket and retrieving the cell phone. “Could have gone better for sure, but also could have gone worse.” Yamada gave Shouta a cheery smack on the shoulder. “You and I make a pretty good team, huh? C’mon, let’s go find a nicer place to grab a bite and hang out until things die down.”

He paused like he fully expected Shouta to agree and follow after him, but Shouta was barely listening. His mind was still trying to process the knife handle sticking out of his stomach. The night “could have gone worse”? Raimaru had almost made good on the threat to send Shouta home in pieces while Yamada cowered in a corner booth, more worried about being seen than being helpful, and Yamada was congratulating himself for a job well done.

“Aizawa? Earth to Aizawa? Hey, are you okay? You’re shaking.” There was a note of real concern in Yamada’s voice as he reached out a hand to steady the trembling in Shouta’s body.

The idea of Yamada making any kind of physical contact snapped the last bit of sane civility Shouta had left in him. True fury, hot and fast and scraped raw by everything that was running through Shouta’s head, boiled over in his chest. He swung wildly at Yamada, hoping to make contact but hoping more just to fend him off as violently as possible. Yamada yelped and jumped backwards, hands coming up to protect himself.

“Whoa! What the hell--?” Yamada began, but Shouta was already swinging again. He wanted to make Yamada bleed, make him feel even half as agonized and afraid as he did right now. Yamada stumbled away from him, eyes wide in shock and confusion. His back hit the brick wall of a building and Shouta got right up in his face, Quirk blazing and teeth bared in a hateful snarl as he spoke.

“Let me be clear with this, so maybe you’ll hear it over the sound of your own voice,” Shouta said between clenched teeth. “We are not partners. We do not make a good team. We are sure as fuck not friends who hang out. You are a problem in my life that I am trying to solve. Get that through your thick skull and stop acting like we’re in this together.” He pulled the knife out and threw it violently at Yamada’s feet before turning on his heel and striding away as fast as his legs could carry him.

As soon as he staggered into his apartment and secured every lock and deadbolt on his door Shouta stripped down, dumping everything he’d been wearing in a heap in the entryway. Ignoring his cats’ cries for attention, Shouta went straight to the bathroom and ran the shower as hot as he could stand it. He could feel himself shaking now, the dregs of adrenaline making his legs weak rather than holding him up any longer. He sat down in his tub with the scalding water beating against his back, arms wrapped around himself. He looked down and saw a long irritated scratch rising on his stomach where the knife had dragged against him through the vest. Shouta let out a long, unsteady breath and closed his eyes. He’d been a vigilante for long enough to know that it meant going without any kind of help when things went from bad to worse to potentially lethal; until now not even his worst cases had shaken him like this. But those times he’d known the risk going in and taking it on had been his choice, which made all the difference. Yamada had known, though. Yamada had known they should have bailed as soon as their worst case scenario walked in the pub’s doors and he’d used Shouta as a human shield to try to get what he wanted anyway. Shouta gritted his teeth, nails digging into his palms as his hands balled into fists. He shouldn’t have expected anything less from someone like Yamada.

Never again, Shouta thought as he roughly toweled off. Yamada could keep his favors and his trade secrets and all the rest of it. He’d need all the help he could get, because as far as Shouta was concerned Yamada was on his own from this moment on.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #eraserhead bnha #eraserhead mha #present mic #erasermic #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #shouta aizawa #hizashi yamada #Fire Meet Gasoline AU #Quinny thinks she's a writer

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charmingturkeysandwich · 5 years

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I Could Use a Love Song - Ch 1: givin’ up on love, hey love’s given up on me

Summary: Emma Swan, small town orphan and up-and-coming country singer, is known for her voice, her penchant for leather, and her overall (earned) anger toward the world. She’s had a rough go of it – rough enough that every single song of hers is angry or sad – but on the road something (or someone) happens that might change her tune.

(Spoiler Alert: it’s Killian. Cue the gasps of shock.)

Also on AO3.

---

The upside to a truly shitty adolescence? Lyrical inspiration.

Emma Swan grew up a little bit all over the place, but primarily in a small town that was most definitely above the Mason-Dixon line and yet half its population spoke with some kind of southern-esque drawl. Confederate flags were common on Chevy trucks. Friday nights in the Fall were dedicated to high school football and absolutely nothing else. Their town’s only radio station was country, though it played seven different church services on Sunday mornings. To say that the whole town’s dynamic read like a cliché country song… it was more obvious than Emma’s bright red leather jacket in a crowd of cotton camo.

So no one was particularly surprised when the beautiful, damaged orphan with the voice of a (really pissed off) angel hit the road with a country band.

They might not have been surprised, but oh did they talk. After her falling out with the pastor’s son and her quick escape to Pittsburgh, she was every negative stereotype of famous in a small town you could conjure. Lily, the closest thing she’d had to a friend outside of Neal, son of Pastor Gold, would keep her updated on the rumors and the hearsay. Not that she wanted to know, necessarily. She’d rather imagine that her name had simply fallen out of the collective memory of that god forsaken town. But it hadn’t. Her story was on the tongues of every bar patron, Baptist, and boy scout leader north of I-80.

It wasn’t her story, though. Not really. The tales they told of Emma Swan always somehow ended up with her as the villain and not the fairy tale princess, the lost girl with no choice but to suffer at the hands of assholes.

Her parents had been shit. Drug addicts, apparently, and she’d been taken from them. She’d been passed through the foster system from ages 3-12, the best foster parents mostly ignoring her and the worst… well, she couldn’t afford the therapy to even attempt to go there.

She’d wound up with an OK but definitely half-crazy woman by the name of Sarah just before she turned 13 and that’s where she’d stayed, that hick town that just couldn’t get enough of her little sob story. That’s where she’d met Neal, the charismatic son of one of the town’s pastors. His dad had seemed nice enough, did a lot of community work and even owned several businesses, boasting of his commitment to boosting the local economy. For once she’d thought she’d found some people who didn’t suck who might make her life at least somewhat normal.

She, as usual, was wrong. Pastor Gold was… well, off. Way too angry for a dude preaching the New Testament each week. But at least he’d never hurt her. No, that privilege was reserved for Neal, who would beat her to a bloody pulp and then tell his daddy’s flock all about saving his sweet girl from a drug deal gone wrong (poor thing ended up like her parents despite the best efforts of the system, you see).

It was pathetic. And after she went to jail for having the gall to defend her own life from that sociopath, well, that was it. She dropped out of high school during the homecoming pep rally and hopped a bus to the city.

That had been years ago now, of course, but it was her origin story, as they say, and something very important to her on-stage personality. And her internal struggle.

Life had fucked her over and she was pissed. And so for five years after leaving that sleepy, secret-filled little town, all she ever really focused on was her anger. She’d write lyrics on truck stop napkins and sit in a half-stranger’s basement strumming chords on the guitar she’d stolen from the church rectory (she wasn’t sorry). She started out performing at open mic nights and then somehow found some of Her People, those who loved country music but maybe hadn’t grown up in a Dixie Chicks song (if only she could have Goodbye Earl’ed that son of a bitch high school boyfriend of hers before he ever laid a hand on someone new…).

(At least he ended up in prison. You know, eventually.)

(And, hey, her rage got her out there and selling records. But that was on her, not him. Nobody saves me but me, she always said. And she wasn’t about to thank a monster just because she survived slaying it.)

Tonight’s show was in a dive bar in upstate New York and Emma was so damn ready for it. She and Ruby had done a few shots of tequila before slipping on their tight jeans and leather jackets, and David had just finished setting up their brand new sound system that made them sound like they could actually be on CMT and not just playing from someone’s garage. David and Mary Margaret, they were like Johnny and June with their sweetness and Emma could hardly stomach it. But they were her friends, her actual honest-to-god, wouldn’t-rat-her-out-to-the-forest-service-for-underage-drinking friends and she loved them. She loved them and Ruby and even Graham in the only way she knew how: teasing insults, cases of beer, and not running away in the middle of the night even when she was feeling like her whole world could crash town with one wrong word from herself or anyone else.

(She really did need therapy beyond the catharsis of angry singing to half-drunk strangers. Someday, maybe.)

Friend love was a strange, but manageable thing. Well, mostly. But romantic love? Absolutely fucking not. After she left Neal and that town, after she drank away the pain and the frustration, well she thought maybe she’d give romance another try. Turned out the next guy was even worse, somehow, leaving her bruised and bloody when she turned down his marriage proposal at a fancy restaurant in Cleveland (yeah, those exist). The physical pain she had been used to, but the emotional… he called her every name she didn’t deserve and a few that she probably did, and when he finished her off with a few choice comments about the baby she’d lost after Neal threw her out a moving car, well she was done. For good. Never ever would she trust a man again. Preacher’s son or furniture salesman – they were all just… evil. She couldn’t ever again take that chance.

But tonight – tonight she wasn’t thinking about romance or even the past, not beyond the bits and pieces that had made their way into her songs. She was happy, buzzed, excited. Their little tour bus (well, van) family was rising in the ranks and soon she could move far away and get her own apartment overlooking the thriving streets of Nashville. Soon she would be so busy with interviews and music video shoots that she wouldn’t have a single second to spare a thought to those who had hurt her. Soon she would be so rich she wouldn’t ever feel lonely because she’d always have male company in the form of all her Benjamins she’d backstroke through like Scrooge McDuck.

The previous night Mary Margaret had tried to set Emma up with the singer of their opening act, a guy they called August who carried a typewriter instead of a guitar (who she’d definitely seen leaving with a drunk after she’d turned him down, by the way), so Emma had already had her monthly I Don’t Want Love chat with her hopeless romantic friend. Meaning today she was free and clear to just… enjoy this new life she’d spent years building on the bones of all the good girls she could have been.

She high-fived Ruby and David kissed her on the cheek as they took the stage, starting the guitar riff as Emma sauntered out to the opening words of the song. This was one of her crowd favorites, a good one to set the tone for what kind of show to expect, and she was melting into her confident, badass, devil-may-care persona easily by the time they hit the first chorus.

I’m goin’ home, gonna load my shotgun

Wait by the door and light a cigarette

He wants a fight, well now he’s got one

And he ain’t seen me crazy yet

A few people in the front row were singing along and her heart was bursting with pride that she was on this road, that she’d turned such a goddamn nightmare of a life into something positive and productive and while overall it still wasn’t healthy… she damn well was on the road to actually being someone. To finally shutting up the idiots back in Pennsyltucky who were convinced she wasn’t going to amount to anything but a statistic just like her parents (despite having never even tried any drug beyond alcohol and nicotine, the judgmental fucks).

One thing that entertained her beyond reason was listening to Mary Margaret sing backup vocals on the songs Emma wrote. Emma liked to call Mary’s on-stage persona Snow White Trash and Ruby insisted that be the name of the band’s first mainstream album when their big break finally came and Emma actually fucking laughed in the middle of performing her angry song that night because she couldn’t stop thinking about the mismatch.

So when the song was over she apologized to the crowd, told them how much she loved her band and her friends, even the hilariously innocent of them, and asked someone to pass her a beer so she could stop the chuckles from trickling out during the next song.

Next on their set list was one that had been co-written by Emma and Ruby, two girls from two very different small towns, who still had so much shared experience. It used to hurt her to sing it, the depressing nature of where she came from threatening to swallow her whole, until Graham came to her one night after the show, quieted her tearful sobs with a kiss and told her to just pretend it was a movie. She was just telling a story. It wasn’t her town or Ruby’s… it was nothing but fiction.

And that’s how she belted it all out totally devoid of those pesky feelings that made her wish she could just crawl under a rock rather than relive her trauma for the seventy third time this fucking year.

If you ain’t got two kids by 21, you’re probably gonna die alone

At least that’s what tradition told you

This song was a lesser known of theirs so they don’t have as many mouthing the words back, but the energy in the crowd is still so high, despite this song being a little more bummer than banger. So she scans the crowd, watches the faces of the drunk, the joyful, the brooding, and best of all, those who understand.

Off to the left, just at the edge of the stage, she saw probably the hottest man she’d ever seen in real life. Black leather jacket, artfully mussed hair, a smirk that could charm her pants right off if she let him.

It’s not that hot guys didn’t come to their shows. They definitely did. But they were usually more the Jake Owen or Luke Bryan type, the ones that look like they were ready to meet your mama by the third date. This guy, he didn’t seem the take-home-to-parents type (just the kind for her, having no parents and all).

But there was something else different about him. Standing just off stage, standing alone, glancing toward David every so often. He looked a bit too confident, comfortable, like he already had some kind of connection to her makeshift little family, and that set up some red flags.

She was not accepting applications for any new friends at the moment. Or maybe ever.

She’d been staring just a little and people tended to notice stuff like that so of course he eventually locked eyes with her, for just a fleeting moment, and there was something in that one glance that told her he knew what she was singing, how she felt, on a level that most others just… didn’t.

So naturally she broke the gaze and didn’t look back.

Jack and Jill went up the hill.

Jack burned out on booze and pills.

Mary had a little lamb.

Mary just don’t give a damn no more.

From there, Mary Margaret had taken over lead vocals, her cover of Strawberry Wine a nice balm to the mood-dampener that Merry-Go-Round always was. And every show without fail, she always took that transition to gloat about how she’s most definitely not the Mary from that song because she has David and loves him so much and Emma almost always makes the universal gesture for “gag me” to the crowd eliciting laughter and a few errant woo’s.

She didn’t tonight.

First taste of love, oh

Bittersweet

And green on the vine

Like strawberry wine

(sorry Deana Carter, but there wasn’t always some sweet.)

They closed the show with Kerosene, like they always did: high-energy, twangy, and true-to-form for their actual fans. The whole bar was on their feet, jumping and swaying and shouting and spilling their $4 beers on the guy beside them but no one really cared because they were sharing a moment, Emma and each of them, singing out their anger and sadness and ten years of life’s-not-fair.

Crazy how a three minute song could effectively patch the wounds of a whole life.

And, yeah, maybe it wasn’t really patching anything. Maybe it was just distraction. Maybe she was just as much a drug addict as her parents, but her drug was the stage and the music and the connection she shared with every other person in each and every bar who didn’t get the benefit of a first love like any kind of wine.

She sang her song from the diaphragm – broadway voice – but it was like it came all the way from her toes. It was always her anger that defined her, drove her, made her feel alive.

Why not lean into it?

I gave it everything I had

And everything I got was bad

Life ain’t hard but it’s too long

To live it like some country song

Trade the truth in for a lie

Cheating really ain’t a crime

I’m giving up on love, cause love’s given up on me

Songs sung, merch sold, and bar tab closed, Emma headed toward the crew’s van, ready to sleep off the liquor in the third row seats while the lovebirds took the hotel room above the bar and Ruby and Graham found someone’s bed to put their boots under for the night.

It was odd, feeling like the fifth wheel when truly there was only one couple in the band. But Ruby and Graham, they were so in sync with where they were in their life – jand it was just not what Emma was looking for – that she still ended up left out.

Which was fine. Everything was just fine.

Until her path to the van was obstructed by the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen in her life, the smoldering-eyed, confident guy who’d nearly made her forget her own lyrics before she’d promptly remembered to forget him and any other person who might possibly hold the potential to make her heart skip.

(Hearts aren’t meant to skip. That’s not love; it’s a trip to the cardiologist.)

He was definitely about to annoy her, so shouldn’t he look properly… annoying? Not like a goddamn model. That was distracting her from her annoyance and inevitable hate. Because a girl like her? Every song lyric and leather jacket was a clear message: leave me the fuck alone.

He clearly wasn’t receiving the signal.

“Swan, I presume?” he finally spoke, her eyes certainly glaring daggers at him despite her tiredness and BAC.

“Uh, obviously? What do you want.” (It wasn’t a question.)

“To introduce myself, of course! Killian Jones, at your service.”

She stopped a few feet from him, one hand on her hip and the other reaching for the cigarettes in the back pocket of her jeans.

“I’m not interested in any services beyond handing me a lighter. Can you manage that one?”

He smirked at her and reached into his jacket, the click of the zippo lighter in his hand echoing off the brick alley the van was parked in. With a quick flick of his thumb there was a flame and he offered it to her, his eyes burning with something other than the reflection of the fire.

“Ah, yes, that’s something even a one-handed bloke like me can manage.” He clicked the lighter closed and deposited it back in his jacket, only to reveal his left arm – ending at the wrist – from where it had been tucked behind him.

Emma deflated a little, some compassion left inside her despite the unwanted nature of his approaching her. “OK, Captain Hook, what exactly do you want from me?”

(She had compassion, but also very little candor. For the record.)

“Ah, yes, I’ve never heard that one before,” he muttered, rolling his eyes and finally looking like he was receiving her please-go-away signals, but he still soldiered on. “I was meant to be here before the show started, but I had some trouble finding this hole-in-the-wall. I presume by your attitude that Dave didn’t warn you I was coming?”

“You presume correctly. Can you please get on with whatever garbage is happening here? I swear if they put you up to asking me out or something I’m going to kill them. Mary Margaret especially. Because we just talked about this and I know that it’s not your fault that they’re such meddlers but I swear I’m pretty much the same girl who sings on stage in real life and I absolutely want nothing to do with men. Or women, for that matter… I’m not a person who dates and if they thought..”

“Love, please stop. No, I’m not here to ask you out. Believe me, I know I’m not what you need. I mean, technically I am, but not in the romantic sense.”

He paused and waggled his eyebrows and Emma was too tired to roll her eyes so she just closed them, willing the moment to pass. “I’ve been hired to work for you. All of you. Roadie. Can’t play notes on a guitar anymore, but I can haul them in and out of these dumps you lot perform in.”

Ah. He was the guy David had suggested they hire but the group had then rejected the idea and apparently David decided to overrule them all because why would Prince Charming listen to a democratic band vote, anyway? (Ugh.)

“Can you maybe stop insulting the patrons that pay us since that same money is going to be what pays you?”

Drunk laugher and electronic music pulsed out of the back door of the bar they’d played in not long before. Almost closing time now. Emma needed to get out of the open before she had to break someone’s wrist for drunkenly groping her. Again.

“Ah, of course, love,” he replied, finally seeming to be at least somewhat chagrined. “Now if you could point me in the direction of our sleeping quarters, I’ll leave you to your business.”

“First of all, I am not your love. We’ve covered this already and I need you to keep up. Second, do you really think we make enough to have quarters? I’m not entirely sure how we’re going to both pay you and eat. So.”

“So, what exactly does that mean for you or I, Swan?” he emphasized her last name in an effort to prove he was capable of using titles other than ridiculous British terms of endearment.

“Well, Jones, that means that either you go shack up with David and the missus (10/10 would not recommend; Mary gets very horny while drunk and her voice carries), or you do like Graham or Ruby and find a local to make gross sex noises with. Or whatever they do. Don’t know, don’t ask, don’t care.”

“And you, princess?” His tone was a challenge. He wanted her to object to the sickly sweet nickname. And she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

“I sleep in the van. And I do not cuddle.”

“Oh, it’s not cuddling I’m looking for,” he purred, waggling his stupid eyebrows again. (This time she did roll her eyes, annoyed enough to expend the limited energy she still possessed.)

“Then go find someone willing, buddy. Like I said.”

He shook his head and laughed, already turning back toward the van. “Damn. David said you were difficult, but I wasn’t expecting this. I’ll sleep wherever you don’t. Unless you snore?”

“No, I do not snore!”

“Great. Then we’ll get along just dandy.” He waited next to the van until Emma pulled out the fob to unlock it, sliding open the big door a second after the beep-beep to signal entry. “After you, not anyone’s love.”

“Thanks, Captain. I’ll be in the back. Touch me at your peril.”

They each crawled into the van and settled at opposite ends. Emma tossed Killian a blanket and Killian tossed Emma a pillow that had been lodged in the front seat and they both drifted off to the sounds of Garth Brooks on the Pandora radio Ruby had bought her to ward away the nightmares that inevitably accompanied the silence.

#cs ff #cs au #cs fanfic #cs fanfiction #keisha writes #first chapter #I've done emo AU #now it's time for the other music of pain #that's country music #at least that's what xander says #this has been a buffy reference in the tags of an ouat story #have a nice day

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bechloeislegit · 6 years

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What If The World Ended Tomorrow? - Chapter 3

The girls follow Chloe's lead and start running back to the front of the school. Chloe is ahead of them with the bow ready, and an arrow notched. Beca finds herself surprisingly impressed with how Chloe handles the weapon. The redhead comes to a sudden stop when they get to the main hallway. With eyes widened and fear clearly reflected, she raises a hand to stop them from coming around the corner, and then ever so slowly walks backward to rejoin her friends. The alarm is still ringing so she puts up her right hand and flashes five fingers twice in quick succession, trying to convey to the others that there are ten of the Sightless in the hallway ahead.

Beca hugs the wall and eases her head around the corner to see what they are doing. They are all centered in one area, and it looks like they are trying to climb the walls. She looks up and notices that the alarm bell is located just above them near the ceiling. It appears they are trying to get to it to stop the noise.

Beca pulls back and motions for the girls to follow her. She continues to hug the opposite wall from the Sightless and slowly makes her way towards the front door. The other girls are following close behind. They each have one eye on the zombies and the other on their surroundings, just in case. Suddenly they freeze as there's an eerie screech, and then another, and another, until all ten of the Sightless are shrieking at earsplitting levels. They seem to be screeching at the alarm.

All the Bellas have their weapons ready and quietly turn as one to face the threat. They needn't have worried because the Sightless still don't seem to know they are there. Each woman feels her heart begin to beat again and, with careful steps, they all start moving toward the door. Aubrey takes the lead and slowly pushes the door open, ever so slowly, to minimize any potential noise.

From outside a Sightless is running for the door, directly at her. The noise of the alarm seems to spur it on to greater speed. Aubrey freezes, arm down, gun not ready. The creature is only a dozen feet away and will be upon her in a second. Before anyone can react Chloe releases her arrow and it catches the zombie just beneath its left eye; not five feet from Aubrey. The force of the arrow actually lifting the Sightless creature off the ground and back a foot before it crumpled to the ground.

Stacie is instantly at Aubrey's side, hand on the back of the blonde who is trying to regain the ability to breathe. Beca is in awe of Chloe, who is quite smooth in drawing another arrow and readying her bow while scanning the immediate area. CR and Emily secure the door behind them so none of the Sightless can follow.

Then, as a group, they move away from the former sanctuary. As soon as they are in the clear, they check around, knowing the school's alarm is sure to attract more. They see another group of at least twenty of the Sleepless making their way to the school from the opposite direction of the diner. That is all the incentive they need and they scramble to get in the truck. Chloe starts it up as soon as she's behind the wheel and pulls away once she's sure everyone is on board. Driving faster than she usually does, she didn't stop until she had them back at the diner.

"Park around back," Aubrey instructs, and Chloe complies. "If there is someone else out there, we don't want them to know we're here."

They all got out of the truck and hurry into the diner. Beca and Stacie immediately went to the front and took up surveillance duty.

"If those people weren't killed by the zombies," Aubrey said. "That means that living humans did it. We haven't seen anyone besides you guys. How did we miss them?"

"I've only walked beyond the strip mall once or twice," Chloe said. "I never saw anyone else."

"Same for us," Beca tells them. "We may have only gone to town a few times, but we didn't see anyone. It was just pure luck that we were out when Chloe and Cynthia Rose were."

"From the smell, those bodies could have been there for a while," Stacie said. "The place was air conditioned so it could have preserved them a bit. All that could have happened before you guys found this place."

"You may be right, but we shouldn't take any chances," Aubrey said. "From now on, no one goes anywhere alone. No one. We will always go in pairs, even to the farm."

The girls all nod in agreement.

"Maybe we should start having lookouts at night," Chloe suggests. "If there are others out there, and after seeing what we just saw, we need to be more vigilant. Just in case they are out to do more harm than good."

"Oh, shoot," Emily said. "In all the excitement I forgot about this." She pulls some papers out of her pocket. "I found these on the bulletin board just before the alarm went off. It talks about survivor camps on different islands off the East Coast. Maybe we can get to one of them."

"Let me see that, Em," Beca said holding out her hand toward the younger girl. Emily hands over several sheets of paper and Beca looks at them. The other girls look over her shoulder as she reads them. "She's right. These show several places in North Carolina, South Carolina, and even here in Georgia. We're only about what? A 4 or 5-hour drive from Savannah? We could probably get to Tybee Island or one of the others nearby."

"A survivor camp?," Stacie asks excitedly. "Maybe some of our friends or family are there." Stacie had a hopeful look on her face as she looked around at the other girls.

"Maybe," Beca said, giving Stacie a soft smile. She looks back down at the papers on the table. "We should make a plan on trying to get to one of these places."

"I agree," Chloe said, nodding her head. "I love you girls, but it would be nice to be around some other people."

The girls work out a plan to leave in three days. They want to check out more of the town before they go. Curious to see if they can find anyone else around. They also hope to find a trailer or at least another truck to carry some of their food and supplies to help out the camp.

The girls decide to make it an early night so they can get an early start in the morning. Beca and Chloe take the first watch, promising to wake Stacie and Aubrey in three hours.

Beca sits in a booth in the darkest corner so she can see everything to the left of the diner and Chloe sits so she can see everything off to the right. They sit silently for a while until Chloe asks Beca if she wanted her to make coffee.

"That sounds really good, actually," Beca said.

Beca made sure to keep looking both ways while Chloe was up making the coffee. Chloe comes back and sets a mug in front of Beca. "Two sugars and lots of milk."

"I can't believe you remember how I like my coffee," Beca said taking a sip. "And, it's perfect."

"I remember because I thought you'd be one of those badasses who'd take it strong and black," Chloe said with a playful grin. "The stronger, the better."

Beca just smiles and takes another sip of her coffee. They sit and sip their coffee while watching out the window.

"Speaking of badass, when did you become Katniss?," Beca asks Chloe, nodding towards her bow.

Chloe actually blushes and shrugs. "Girl Scouts."

"Why am I not surprised you were a Girl Scout," Beca said with a smirk.

"I really liked it, some of my best summer memories were at camp," the redhead answers a little defensively. "Being a Girl Scout was great."

"I'm sure it was," Beca said with a smirk.

"It was," Chloe grumbles.

"And you learned archery?," Beca asks, deciding not to tease anymore.

"Yeah, I was surprisingly good at it, and I really loved the rush of hitting a target from long distances."

"Tell me about it," Beca said, actually quite curious.

"Most of the girls weren't really interested, but I loved Orlando Bloom in the Lord of the Rings, so I was super excited. I remember the instructor guiding me through the steps and then letting the arrow fly for the first time." She sat up, sounding so proud. "I was the only one to hit the target, so I shot again and hit the inner ring. Then on my third arrow, I nailed a bullseye." Chloe was grinning from ear-to-ear at this point. "I actually won a number of blue ribbons in archery competitions," she said quite proudly.

Beca is truly intrigued. "How have I not heard about this until now?," Beca asks, truly confused by this revelation.

The redhead shrugs in answer. "Not much reason to bring it up. It was fifth through eighth grade. By the time I started High School I was mostly done. I had achieved a number of patches and awards. I got busy with school activities and cheerleading, volleyball, and chorus, of course, so the Girl Scouts faded into the past."

"You missed it though," Beca observes. She can see the wistful look.

"Yeah, there was something about being a part of something that appealed to me, even at an early age. I love the whole ethos of helping others. I learned a whole lot, and it was cool to have the uniform," Chloe answers enthusiastically.

Beca just sits there silently enraptured by the redhead. Chloe notices Beca just watching her, and asks, "What?"

Beca shakes herself out of wherever she had just gone and blushes. "Umm, I was just thinking how badass you turned out to be, and…"

"You're picturing me in my Girl Scout uniform, aren't you?"

Beca's blush covers her face. "Maybe…"

"You're adorable," Chloe said with a wink.

"Probably not as adorable as you are in your uniform," Beca counters.

Chloe shakes her head, causing Beca to raise an eyebrow at her. "Not adorable. Totally hot," Chloe said with a husky voice and another wink.

Beca actually blushes more. "You're going to be the death of me." Chloe laughs, and Beca loves the sound.

Both women lapse into a comfortable silence. Each dealing with the weird incongruity of being able to tease and flirt, even as they are on guard against monsters in the night, both human and zombie.

"So, what happened with Ashley and Jessica?," Beca quietly asks after a while.

"Ashley just totally freaked out," Chloe tells her. "She was the one that drove us away from you guys that day. We tried to get her to stop, but she wouldn't listen. Jessica finally got her to calm down and stop the bus, but by then it was too late. You guys were already gone. We drove around for a while before we made a plan and decided to drive to Jessica's family's house that was about three hours away. Jessica was driving, and there was a group of them in the road. She tried to go around them, but the bus got stuck. We would have been fine, but Ashley ran off the bus screaming. The screams attracted the Sightless, and they came after us. Cyn, Emily, Aubrey, Lily, and I started running and ran into the woods. I looked back, and Ashley was just standing there screaming, and the Sightless attacked her. Jessica tried to, tried-" Chloe let out a small sob and wipes at the tears that had been pouring down her face.

"You can stop," Beca tells her. She moves to sit next to Chloe and takes her in her arms. Chloe clings to Beca and cries. She hadn't really had a chance to mourn because she was trying to stay strong for the others.

"I'm sorry," Chloe said, sniffling. "None of us have really grieved, you know?"

"I get it," Beca said. "Before I had to," Beca stops and swallows. "I cried for about a week after the day it all happened. I cried for Amy. I cried for you, and the rest of the Bellas, thinking you were either dead or one of those things. After that week, I hadn't shed a tear until I had to keep my promise to Jesse."

"I'm so glad we found each other again," Chloe said. "There was a piece of my heart missing, and I didn't think it would ever be whole again, until now." She pulls back and looks at Beca.

Beca takes Chloe's face in her hands and uses the pads of the thumbs to wipe away her tears. She leans in and kisses Chloe. Chloe pulls Beca to her and deepens the kiss. They pull apart, and Chloe let out a small laugh as she put her forehead to Beca's. They sat like that for a minute or two before Beca pulls back.

"We need to keep watch," Beca said and gives Chloe a quick peck on the lips. Chloe nods her head, and Beca moves back over to her original seat. She took Chloe's hand across the table and held it until it was time to wake Aubrey and Stacie for their watch.

*0*0*0*0*

CR and Emily woke the others after preparing breakfast for them all. They ate and got dressed for the day.

"I think we should go into town and see if we can find a trailer or another truck to use," Aubrey suggests. "I also think we might want to make a visit to the army surplus to get a little more firepower."

"Aubrey's right," Beca said. "I'll go."

"Me, too," Chloe volunteers. "How about you CR? Want to go with us? You can drive the new truck if we find one."

"I can do that," Cynthia Rose replies.

"The three of us should go to the farm and get eggs and milk," Emily said, looking a Stacie and Aubrey. "We haven't been in a couple of days, and I think we need to check on the animals."

"Good idea," Aubrey said and looks at her watch. "It's 8:30 now, so let's plan for everyone to be back here by no later than 11:00?"

"That gives us plenty of time," Beca said. "Sounds like a plan. Chloe? CR? You two ready?"

"Let's go," Chloe said gathering her bow and quiver of arrows.

CR grabs her gun as well as a crossbow and some arrows. Beca grabs her rifle, and the three girls do a quick perimeter check as a safety precaution before heading to the truck. Chloe gets behind the wheel and drives to the mall where they found Beca and Stacie. Beca looks out the window at the structure and swallows, remembering her last trip there. She wipes a tear from her eye and Chloe squeezes her leg to comfort her. Chloe pulls up to a different entrance than before, and the three girls get out and look around.

"I think we're clear," CR said.

*0*0*0*0*

Aubrey and Emily lead Stacie to the farm. They stay along the tree line and look all around before heading to the barn where the animals are enclosed. Emily opens the door, and the three girls enter.

"Phew," Stacie said, holding her nose. "Definitely smells like animals."

"You kind of get used to it after a few seconds," Emily tells her. She walks over to the two cows and sets down the two pails she had been carrying. She runs her hand over their sides as she walks between them to get the stool to sit on while milking.

Aubrey takes Stacie's hand and leads her over to the chickens. They are all sitting on their nests lightly clucking. "We have to get them to move so we can get at the eggs," Aubrey said.

"Do we really need to do this?," Stacie asks. "I mean, we are planning to leave in like two days. They won't last."

"We need the eggs for breakfast," Aubrey said. "We still have some milk leftover from our last trip here. We're only going to milk them, so their udders aren't full when we leave."

"The plan is to leave the door open so they can leave on their own," Emily tells her. "We think it might be worse on them if we leave them locked up in here. If they can get out, maybe someone else will find and take care of them." Emily sits on a stool and puts a bucket under the first cow. She reaches under and starts to pull on the teat. Nothing happens. She tries again.

"Shoo!" Aubrey says and gives a slight push to the hen in front of her. The hen flaps her wings and jumps away from Aubrey.

"There's nothing there," Stacie said as she looks in the nest.

"That happens sometimes," Aubrey said as she tries to get the other hens to move.

"Guys," Emily said getting their attention. "I think we should head back to the diner now."

"Why?," Aubrey asks. "What's wrong?"

"Are you finding any eggs?," Emily asks as she stands and walks toward Aubrey.

"Actually, no," Aubrey said and furrows her brow as she checks all the nests. "There aren't any eggs at all."

"The cows have been milked recently," Emily said as she holds her gun at the ready. The other two girls follow suit, and they start moving toward the door.

*0*0*0*0*

Beca stood looking around. She cocks her head to the side. "Do you guys hear that?"

Chloe and CR stop and listen. "Is that the alarm from the school?," CR asks.

"Sounds like it," Chloe said. "We will have to pass the school to get to the car lot. We can check and see how many of those things might still be hanging around."

CR and Beca nod and they continue into the mall. Chloe leads them to the army surplus store, and they start loading up their backpacks with ammunition and handguns. Beca grabs all the grenades she can see and throws them in a separate bag. CR grabs three or four AR-15s and slings them over her shoulder. She finds ammunition for them and loads them into a backpack. Chloe is checking out the hunting knives and takes a few along with sheaths to hold them. She carefully sticks them down inside one of the backpacks.

Beca goes over to one of the racks and pulls off a heavy parka and puts it on. She zips it and decides it fits well. "We should get one of these coats for all of us," she tells the others. "It gets cold at night. We may need them."

CR and Chloe find their sizes and then Chloe pulls out three for Aubrey, Stacie, and Emily.

"Maybe we should get sleeping bags, too," CR suggests. "We don't know where we might have to sleep."

"We could probably get this all to the truck in one trip," Chloe said. "But, we would be vulnerable if we see any of those things."

"Yeah, but if we make too many trips we have a greater risk of running into them," Beca said.

"I say we make one trip," CR suggests. "We just need to be fast and vigilant."

They manage to get everything to the truck without seeing any of the Sightless. They all get in the truck, and Chloe looks at them.

"I saw a car dealership past the High School during one of my walks about a month ago," Chloe said. "There are trucks and vans there so I'm sure we can find something we can use. We can check the school on the way."

"That works," Beca said, and CR nods. They both had two guns at the ready just in case.

Chloe starts the truck and pulls away from the mall and goes onto the street. They can hear the alarm bells get louder as they got closer to the school.

"Holy shit," CR yells out. Chloe sees what CR sees and stops the truck. They are about a hundred yards from the school, and the school is literally surrounded by the Sightless.

"Where the hell did they all come from?," Beca asks somewhat in awe of the number they were seeing.

"Should we keep going?," Chloe asks watching the crowd. "It doesn't seem like anything's changed with them. It looks like they are all still trying to get to the alarms."

"They may have managed to stop a couple of them," Beca said. "It doesn't seem as loud as before."

"We're in the truck," CR said. "We can outrun them if we have to."

"I think CR is right," Beca said. "We really need to find another truck."

"Okay," Chloe said, biting her bottom lip. "Let's do this."

She puts the truck in drive and starts moving. She speeds up a bit and then maintains her speed, so the engine is a continuous hum. She's afraid that going faster may make the engine louder or create some noise that would make them aware of their presence. They manage to get past the school safely, although Beca and CR both shiver as they drive by.

"Did it seem like some of them were following us with their eyes," CR whispers to Beca. Beca swallows and nods her head.

"What? What's wrong?," Chloe asks, sensing a change in their demeanor. "Why are you whispering?"

"It's probably just nerves," CR responds. "But it seemed like some of them were watching us as we rode by."

Chloe quickly checks the rearview mirror. "None of them are following us."

"That's good," Beca said. "Let's just keep going and do what we have to do so we can get back."

*0*0*0*0*

Aubrey gets to the barn door first and slowly opens it. She looks around but doesn't see or hear anyone or anything. She eases the door open a little wider and looks again before she exits the barn.

"Close the door behind us," Aubrey said. "Just in case there are some non-Sightless around, they can use the milk and eggs."

"What if it's the people who killed the folks at the school?," Stacie asks.

"I can't just let them go if someone is already using them for food or drink," Aubrey said. "No matter what they may or may not have done. I just can't."

"I get it, Aubrey," Emily said as she closes the door and makes sure it is secure. "Let's go."

*0*0*0*0*

Chloe drove about ten minutes further down the road and finds the Nissan dealership. She slowly drives around to look for any signs of the Sightless or any other signs of life. They don't see anything, but they do see several cargo vans. Chloe stops near one of them. "That might be good to use. We can carry a bunch of supplies in it."

"Let's check it out," CR said and gets out of the truck. She walks over and tries the driver's side door only to find it locked. "It's locked. I bet we can find some keys inside the dealership."

CR and Beca walk to the door and try it. It opens. Chloe looks around and follows them in. "Check to see if there is an office in the back. That's probably where they keep all the keys."

Beca goes to the back and sees the keys are tagged with the vehicle's license plate number. CR runs out and gets the plate number to the van, and they go back to find the right keys. The hurry outside and CR goes to click the button to unlock the van, but Beca stops her.

"We don't want to attract any of those things," Beca tells her. "It may not be very loud, but this may make the kind of noise they are attracted to."

"Sorry," CR said and walks over to unlock the door with the key. It opens with no trouble. They both check out the interior and are satisfied that it fits their needs. "This is perfect. Let's get out of here."

"Wait," Beca said. "Where's Chloe?"

"Right here," Chloe said from behind her. "I found us a better truck. Come see."

CR and Beca follow Chloe around the corner and see a silver-gray Nissan Titan. "Damn, girl," CR said. "That's one badass looking truck."

"It sure is," Chloe said, her eyes gleaming. "And, I have the keys." She goes over and unlocks the doors. This truck has all the bells and whistles. "It has a backseat, so we don't all have to jam into the front. I think we should trade in the old one for this baby."

Beca can't help but smile at Chloe. There isn't much to be excited about these days, and it's nice to see her like this. "I think you're right, Chlo," she said with a grin. "Let's load our stuff into this truck and get out of here. Why don't you drive it around to the other side."

Chloe doesn't have to be told twice. "Get in you two," she said and drives them to the other vehicles.

They hurry and put all their new stuff into the new truck. CR climbs behind the wheel of the van and starts it up. She pulls out, and Beca tells her to take the lead. CR does, and Chloe follows behind. They are traveling at a pretty good speed, and Chloe is in love with the new truck.

"Oh, my God, Becs," Chloe exclaims, her eyes shining. "This truck is amazing. And listen to that engine purring like a kitten."

Beca can only sit in her seat and smile at the redhead. Beca looks up when she suddenly hears the school's alarm. They are much closer to it than she thought. CR continues to maintain her speed and drives by the school. Chloe does the same, and they seem to be in the clear. Beca keeps an eye on the crowd that is still at the school but doesn't get the feeling of being watched like before. She lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Let's sing," Chloe said suddenly. "I want to sing."

"You're crazy, you know that?," Beca said, smiling at how happy Chloe is. "What should we sing?"

"You shoot me down, but I won't fall," Chloe starts and bursts into laughter at the look on Beca's face. "You're so easy, Mitchell."

Beca just gives her a glare. She starts to say something when Chloe suddenly sits up straight and is looking in the rearview mirror. Something is moving in the distance and it’s coming toward them.

"What the fuck?," Chloe said. Beca turns to look over her shoulder. She spots the movement easily. It's dark and moving fast, and it seems to be gaining on them.

"What the hell is that?," Beca asks.

"I don't know," Chloe answers, she spares a glance into the rearview mirror. "But it's gaining on us." Her foot instinctively pushes down on the gas pedal, and the truck picks up speed.

Beca takes no comfort as the mass continues to catch up. She knows she needs to act. "Keep driving and don't stop for anything," Beca tells Chlo. "And I mean anything."

Beca climbs into the backseat and opens the window that leads to the bed of the pickup. She starts to shimmy through, and for the first time in a long time, she's really thankful that she's so petite.

"What are you doing?," Chloe screams at her. She does not like this plan one bit. Unconsciously she eases up on the gas pedal.

Beca lands in the bed of the truck and looks back at Chloe. "Don't slow down or stop for anything." Chloe looks at Beca in the mirror, and their eyes lock. "I love you!" Chloe nods and Beca sees her lips mouth 'I love you, too,' and the petite brunette feels the truck's speed pick up again.

Beca turns and gets the bag with the grenades in it. She pulls one out and removes the pin. Looking up she's shocked to see how close the dark mass is. It's a horde; a horde of the Sightless. But even in her surprised state, she notes that there's something different. She shakes herself free of her hesitation and throws the grenade as hard as she can.

The small metal orb hits the pavement and bounds in the air about four feet, and then disappears among the horde, just before it explodes. She watches as what looks like a half-dozen bodies fly through the air, yet there are still more running after the truck.

The sight of so many of these new Sightless is fear-inducing. She realizes she can actually hear their feet slapping on the pavement, most are now barefoot. She also realizes they're screeching high pitched keening sounds that leave her cold. She is frozen by all this for a moment.

Chloe must have noticed in the rearview mirror because she honks the truck's horn. This wakes Beca, and she scrambles to the bag. She removes another grenade, pulling the pin and throwing it immediately. She throws two more before she pulls out her gun and starts firing. Her first shots are rapid, but then she realizes she needs to be more steady. Taking her time she aims at the ones still coming at the truck. Once she shoots what she hopes is the last one, Beca falls onto her back in the bed of the truck. The adrenaline leaving her overwhelmed.

"Beca!," Chloe is yelling. "Beca! Answer me!"

*0*0*0*0*

"What the hell was that?," Aubrey asks as she jumps up and rushes to the window.

"Sounded like some kind of explosion," Stacie said. She is now standing next to Aubrey as they both look out the diner's front window.

"Can we please talk about how someone has milked cows and taken eggs, and we haven't seen them?," Emily said, frustration and fear heavy in her voice.

"Let's just hope those explosions were caused by our girls," Stacie said.

"I'm so ready to get the hell out of here," Emily said and starts gathering her stuff.

*0*0*0*0*

"I'm fine," Beca sits up and yells to Chloe through the open window. "Keep driving. I'm going to stay back here in case any more show up."

Chloe wipes a tear from her face and hurries to get back to the diner. She parks around the back next to the van and jumps out of the truck. Beca jumps out of the bed of the pickup and the two girls grab each other in a bone crushing hug as tears stream down their faces. Beca pulls back and gives Chloe a kiss. Chloe ends the kiss and grabs Beca into another hug. Beca hugs her back, and they stand there for another minute just holding on to each other.

"We should get inside," Beca said putting her arm around Chloe's waist as they walk towards the diner.

The door is thrown open, and CR is standing in front of them. "What the fuck was that?"

They see the rest of the girls over CR's shoulder looking at them anxiously.

"Let's get inside," Chloe said.

CR looks at them and moves aside to let them enter. She secures the door and follows the others into the dining area. They take seats and CR looks at Beca and Chloe.

"What the fuck was that?," CR asks them again.

"I don't know," Beca said shaking her head. "But they were faster than I don't know what and they were running right at us."

"What the hell happened?," Stacie asks. "We heard what sounded like explosions."

"Grenades," Beca said, suddenly noticing she was shaking. Chloe noticed and took her hand to calm her. "Those things are evolving or something. They looked like those infected zombie sightless things, but they were running like really fast and came right at the truck. Like they knew we were there. Like they could see us or something. They came at us in a horde. It was...scary."

"This isn't good," Aubrey said, anxiety present in her voice. "We always had the element of knowing what made them tick so we could avoid them. If they can hear everything now. . or see."

"We didn't meet up with any of the Sightless," Emily said. "But someone has been to the barn."

"How can you tell?," Beca asks.

"The cows have been milked," Emily responds. "And there wasn't a single egg to be found."

The girls look at each other. They are more afraid now than they've been since this whole thing started.

"We need to leave now," Chloe said. "Get out of here while we can."

"I agree," Beca said. "They die or whatever if you shoot them, and the grenades worked on them, too. But, if they're evolving, we may not stand a chance against them."

"I'm afraid Beca's right," Emily said. "I say we pack the trucks up and get the hell out of here. Try and make it to one of the survivor camps tonight."

They are all in agreement and start making plans to leave. Aubrey pulls out a map and lays it flat on a table. All the women multitask, continuing to gather items to take with them, as they discuss possible destinations. There is a general consensus to head to Tybee Island near Savannah. Aubrey and Beca plot out the best route and both write the directions down so that each vehicle will have a copy to follow.

Once the decision is made on their destination, the girls jump into action and start loading up the cargo van. Emily is insistent they take the mattresses, and the other girls relent to keep from spending too much time arguing about it. With the six of them, it doesn't take long to load up both vehicles. They take everything they can from the diner and load it into the cargo van. The weapons and ammunition are placed in the bed of the pickup along with one of the mattresses; the other two are placed in the van.

CR gets behind the wheel of the van with Emily riding shotgun; literally as she checks to see if her shotgun is loaded. Both vehicles have several loaded guns, and a few grenades close at hand. Chloe takes the wheel of the pickup with Beca riding shotgun. Beca makes sure her guns and grenades are within easy reach. Stacie and Aubrey opt to ride in the bed of the pickup, using the mattress to sit on. They have the rest of the weapons and ammunition at their disposal if needed.

The two vehicles head out, with CR taking the lead. They drive away from the diner, and each girl feels like she is leaving something of herself behind. Beca glances back in the direction of the mall and sends up a silent prayer for Jesse. Stacie takes Aubrey's hand as they continually scan their surroundings for anything that looks out of place.

Chloe is keeping her eyes on the road but is also scanning from side to side as she drives. Beca looks over at Chloe trying to see everywhere at once.

"Why don't you keep your eyes on the road and look to your left," Beca suggests. "I'll keep watch on the right."

"Okay," Chloe agrees, giving Beca a grateful smile.

Beca can sense how tense Chloe is. She reaches across the seat and gives Chloe's shoulder a squeeze. "We're going to be fine." Chloe gives her a thankful smile and puts her left hand on top of Beca's.

They both go back to keeping watch as they follow behind CR and Emily. They had only been on the road for about an hour when Beca hears Chloe exclaim, "Dammit!."

"What?," Beca asks, sitting up straight and looking around. Not seeing anything out of the ordinary, she asks, "What's wrong?"

#bechloe fanfiction #bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale

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harbodouglas5-blog · 6 years

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Santa Monica Workplace Movers

Santa Monica Professional Movers

Further Data See an issue? The utility instructed state regulators Thursday that it skilled an issue on an electrical transmission line near the positioning of the blaze minutes before the hearth broke out. When you have a chance, test 'em out - they're really good and so nice! They were good to me and good to my canine, they obtained all my stuff from point A to level B with none damage. In the end all the pieces bought carried out but it took one other 2 guys (5 total), a second truck and the conference room desk was reduce into pieces and discarded moderately than being sold. It has worked. It also acquired me a hubnugget award. We known as so many corporations in hopes of receiving an inexpensive rate for this upcoming transfer. I have read some horror stories involving damaged objects, furnishings being held captive, and different unethical business practices by numerous shifting firms.

Being stretched badly now however not to level of individuals being out too typically. I had no qualms from the very beginning - each step of the way in which I used to be at all times provided with prompt responses and that i had no worries about people not showing up or not doing their job. We only work with our prime tier clients on this market and we need to get a good return for the work we're doing. 4. Make a decision on who will be doing your packing, you or the movers. Max Power Movers would be thrilled that will help you do this sort of local moving within your own home or property. They arrived at 2pm and went dwelling at 12:30am, thats a protracted day and I'm thankful for the crews' onerous work. The drivers called me forward of time to let me know they had been on their manner they usually arrived early.

Bennett, M.J. & Hammer, M. (1998)

6 years in the past from Missouri

6 years in the past from Hereford, AZ

10 years ago from Duluth, MN

On this venture, the turban venture should have accomplished months in the past, but there's simply ongoing delays they will not let us start up the system. Quantity 1, first and foremost we’re going to hit the mid-Atlantic business unit and what’s happening there. After spending 1000's of dollars to have my house packed up into storage I am forced to hire a different moving company to pick up every thing from this crooked company and move it to a distinct storage unit! When you hire professionals, it's crucial to make use of an area firm with extensive expertise in shifting. We might completely rent them again. Santa Monica is a rising city, as well. Our intention as Moving Company in Santa Monica is to make the transferring expertise as nice as potential. Wonderful moving and storage firm. I definitely recommend this firm. Here you'll find vacationers and locals alike running alongside biking and jogging paths, having fun with views of the nearby Santa Monica Mountain range or learning to surf. On day seven, we ventured south on Highway 1 from the gorgeous Carmel, California and onward to Santa Monica. After their initial establishment, the founders further expanded their enterprise which spread all through the Southern California.

Jessica Van Amber searched shelters, known as round and appealed to individuals on social media to help her discover her aunt and mom missing after a ferocious Northern California wildfire. About 24 hours after she final heard from the ladies as they rushed to strive get out of the town of Magalia, Van Amber posted on Twitter: “UPDATE: MY Mother HAS BEEN Discovered! They sent over 2 movers and spent about 4 hours to maneuver me from the valley to the town with no issues. With double drive time, our transfer came out to 5 hours and 15 minutes, well above the minimum 3 hours, but undoubtedly much sooner than it will have been with solely 2 movers! So when you're on the lookout for movers Los Angeles, ABC Moving Programs quick, experienced and environment friendly shifting crews are ready to help. Working with them every step of the way in which, they're licensed, bonded, insured, and provide an expert and experienced staff of movers for every job. The window was 8-10am and the movers confirmed up at 8 on the dot. You could possibly make it part of your each day visualization.

Making mistakes, getting it virtually proper, and experimenting to see what occurs are all a part of the process of eventually getting it right. It's simply that we are estimating works on these big jobs. Smoke, and soot, are all extremely corrosive and dangerous to metal and electronics. The data is admittedly priceless, not to mention you're a fantastic writer. Firstly, we've got to mention the activity that's required to maneuver furniture. Hoping not to maneuver anytime soon but if i do I might be coming again! We will make the moving event run smoothly for you. To make it simpler to journey and fund a music profession, as an excellent example a Woodland Hills dance studio will be extra affordable and be easier to travel to. I prefer to make mine help keep them alive for a greater time. All of us must do one thing to assist folks get their lives straight and keep them that way.

piano movers santa monica

Beggars do see the very best in people however sadly, lately they've been seeing the worst also. Best of all, they were extremely polite, professional and environment friendly all through. Very skilled even when we started going over time. Sure, completely Brent. So, I’m going to ask John to step in right here in a moment. One of those lenders has elected to step up and take the lead and be the lead bank in a potential new lending construction. That's the reason I work with one individual. Understanding that an individual is dissatisfied shouldn't be sufficient. There are enough thrift retailers in most towns to search out one thing inexpensively. Our selling, normal and administrative bills had been up yr-over-yr are operating below plan for 2018. We anticipate that trend to continue within the fourth quarter. When isolating mid-Atlantic, the steadiness of our enterprise is performing very, very nicely and actually beating our plan with strong yr-on-12 months progress.

Let’s move on to Slide eight the place I’ll handle the service segment where all features of the section are performing effectively. I will definitely use this service again. I will definitely be utilizing 123 Transferring and Storage for my next move. Main up to the transfer all of our questions and issues were answered promptly. Thank you for making my move flawless and simple. At Monster Transferring, our objective is to attain customer satisfaction on each move. ABC Moving Techniques was incredible for our native transfer. Welcome to ABC Shifting Systems! In the event you test with HR individuals at the moment and see how many people apply for a job, you'd welcome welfare as former Pres. In 1990, I entered the gross sales staff for International Van Strains and learned what needed to happen with the intention to get folks in trucks and clients smiling as a result. Let's get began. These animals require a bit extra finesse. Talking to the animals is one that may are available useful again and again.

So far as the relationship with the lender, I can not inform you what you thought course of was to return to a conclusion that they want to take away themselves from the credit. Fourthly, specific milestone dates related to the refinance process. However winds that drove the ferocious flames have eased. The homeless are rising in volume and this bothers many people which have a place to call residence and some stability. Lots of Nashville's musicians use this as a quiet home base. The old fable would possibly work right here that we solely use ten percent of our brains at any given time. Would use them anytime I need somebody in LA. Nonetheless, I've been blessed with this capacity and have used it since I used to be a small youngster. Small things can go a great distance. On our way south, we got here upon a humorous realization. But I recommended calling them Immediately and ASKING in regards to the Voucher Deal as a result of that ways they've some room to give you extra Discount! Advisable call these guys. The workplace was additionally simple to deal with, promptly sent me an e-mail confirmation so Five stars Replace 2 days later Turns out the guys locked 2 of my file cabinets.

Fortunately I stumbled upon these guys and am comfortable that I went with them. We went through a couple of unhealthy instances when we ended up camping within the woods with our youngsters and the each day hunt for meals. Jannie, I do know of a couple of eating places that take food to the food banks. They have made their Take 10! In addition to the Dunbar transaction, we have two other transactions possibly coming into the LOI stage. I think management at a senior stage didn’t watch it close enough, and that’s why we made a senior management change. After 10 years working for others, Mr. Jupille formed RTJ Financial Management in 2000, targeted on serving to successful individuals obtain their monetary desires. 1. Consider your ‘someday’ desires carefully. Your Self speaks to you through your desires, needs, and desires - recognized as intuition or intuition. Thus I believe that more can be finished from each one among us.

Others out there might charge you cheap charges, however they may cause you headaches, like broken or lost belongings. The cost was precisely what I was quoted with none surprises. The brand new Netflix sequence “Dead to Me” was scouting places round Malibu and Hidden Valley in Ventura County when the fires broke out. Please reach out to the Equity Group and they're going to attain out to us and we are going to get something arrange. Germany wouldn't be a spot to wish to cling out without 4 sturdy walls and a superb heater in the winter. Sounds like a place you wish to reside in? Melrose Place and Charmed star Alyssa Milano revealed she was additionally evacuating alongside together with her horses. He was completely responsive at any time when I referred to as or emailed him. Sam was very polite and professional once i called to guide them. Nice guys, quick, skilled and pleasant. Liquid Liquid coalescers: What Ought to you understand?

If you beloved this article so you would like to obtain more info with regards to santa monica local movers generously visit the web-page.

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pottsdupont12-blog · 6 years

Text

Santa Monica Workplace Movers

Santa Monica Office Movers

santa monica moving company

Extra Data See an issue? The utility advised state regulators Thursday that it skilled a problem on an electrical transmission line close to the location of the blaze minutes before the hearth broke out. If in case you have a chance, examine 'em out - they're really good and so good! They were good to me and good to my dog, they received all my stuff from level A to level B without any harm. In the end everything acquired done but it surely took another 2 guys (5 total), a second truck and the convention room table was lower into items and discarded relatively than being bought. It has labored. It also got me a hubnugget award. We known as so many firms in hopes of receiving an affordable price for this upcoming transfer. I have learn some horror stories involving broken items, furnishings being held captive, and different unethical business practices by varied transferring corporations.

Being stretched badly now however not to point of individuals being out too typically. I had no qualms from the very starting - every step of the way I used to be always supplied with prompt responses and i had no worries about people not exhibiting up or not doing their job. We only work with our prime tier prospects on this market and we should get a good return for the work we're doing. 4. Decide on who will likely be doing your packing, you or the movers. Max Energy Movers would be thrilled that can assist you do this type of local moving inside your private home or property. They arrived at 2pm and went residence at 12:30am, thats a protracted day and I am thankful for the crews' laborious work. The drivers known as me forward of time to let me know they were on their way and so they arrived early.

Bennett, M.J. & Hammer, M. (1998)

6 years ago from Missouri

6 years ago from Hereford, AZ

10 years ago from Duluth, MN

In this challenge, the turban undertaking should have completed months in the past, but there's just ongoing delays they will not let us begin up the system. Quantity 1, before everything we’re going to hit the mid-Atlantic enterprise unit and what’s occurring there. After spending 1000's of dollars to have my condo packed up into storage I am compelled to rent a different moving company to choose up everything from this crooked company and transfer it to a unique storage unit! When you rent professionals, it's crucial to make use of a local firm with in depth experience in shifting. We'd completely rent them once more. Santa Monica is a growing metropolis, as properly. Our goal as Moving Company in Santa Monica is to make the transferring expertise as pleasant as possible. Glorious transferring and storage company. I undoubtedly advocate this company. Right here you'll find vacationers and locals alike operating alongside biking and jogging paths, having fun with views of the close by Santa Monica Mountain vary or studying to surf. On day seven, we ventured south on Freeway 1 from the beautiful Carmel, California and onward to Santa Monica. After their preliminary establishment, the founders further expanded their enterprise which spread throughout the Southern California.

Jessica Van Amber searched shelters, known as round and appealed to people on social media to assist her find her aunt and mother missing after a ferocious Northern California wildfire. About 24 hours after she final heard from the ladies as they rushed to try get out of the town of Magalia, Van Amber posted on Twitter: “UPDATE: MY Mother HAS BEEN Found! They despatched over 2 movers and spent about 4 hours to maneuver me from the valley to the town with no problems. With double drive time, our transfer came out to 5 hours and 15 minutes, effectively above the minimum 3 hours, but positively a lot faster than it will have been with only 2 movers! So when you are searching for movers Los Angeles, ABC Shifting Systems quick, skilled and environment friendly moving crews are prepared to assist. Working with them each step of the best way, they're licensed, bonded, insured, and provide knowledgeable and skilled staff of movers for every job. The window was 8-10am and the movers showed up at 8 on the dot. You would make it part of your daily visualization.

Making errors, getting it almost right, and experimenting to see what occurs are all a part of the process of finally getting it right. It is simply that we are estimating works on these big jobs. Smoke, and soot, are all extremely corrosive and dangerous to metallic and electronics. The data is admittedly priceless, not to say you're an excellent writer. Firstly, we've got to mention the activity that's required to maneuver furniture. Hoping not to maneuver anytime soon but if i do I shall be coming again! We are going to make the transferring event run smoothly for you. To make it simpler to journey and fund a music career, as a good instance a Woodland Hills dance studio will probably be more affordable and be simpler to journey to. I desire to make mine help keep them alive for a better time. We all have to do something to help people get their lives straight and keep them that way.

Beggars do see the very best in individuals however sadly, these days they have been seeing the worst also. Better of all, they have been extremely polite, skilled and efficient all through. Very skilled even when we began going over time. Sure, completely Brent. So, I’m going to ask John to step in here in a moment. One of those lenders has elected to step up and take the lead and be the lead financial institution in a possible new lending construction. That's the reason I work with one person. Knowing that an individual is dissatisfied shouldn't be enough. There are enough thrift retailers in most towns to find something inexpensively. Our selling, normal and administrative expenses were up yr-over-12 months are running under plan for 2018. We anticipate that pattern to continue in the fourth quarter. When isolating mid-Atlantic, the balance of our enterprise is performing very, very properly and in reality beating our plan with strong year-on-12 months growth.

Let’s transfer on to Slide eight the place I’ll tackle the service segment the place all facets of the segment are performing properly. I will definitely use this service once more. I will certainly be using 123 Transferring and Storage for my subsequent transfer. Main up to the move all of our questions and concerns had been answered promptly. Thanks for making my transfer flawless and straightforward. At Monster Shifting, our purpose is to attain customer satisfaction on every move. ABC Shifting Programs was improbable for our native transfer. Welcome to ABC Shifting Techniques! In the event you check with HR individuals at the moment and see how many individuals apply for a job, you'd welcome welfare as former Pres. In 1990, I entered the sales group for Global Van Lines and learned what wanted to occur with the intention to get folks in trucks and prospects smiling because of this. Let's get began. These animals require a bit more finesse. Speaking to the animals is one that may are available handy time and again.

So far as the connection with the lender, I can not tell you what you thought course of was to come back to a conclusion that they would like to take away themselves from the credit. Fourthly, particular milestone dates related to the refinance process. But winds that drove the ferocious flames have eased. The homeless are rising in volume and this bothers many of us which have a spot to call house and some stability. Quite a lot of Nashville's musicians use this as a quiet residence base. The outdated delusion might work right here that we only use ten percent of our brains at any given time. Would use them anytime I need somebody in LA. Nonetheless, I have been blessed with this means and have used it since I was a small baby. Small things can go a long way. On our approach south, we got here upon a funny realization. But I advisable calling them Immediately and ASKING in regards to the Voucher Deal as a result of that methods they have some room to provide you with more Discount! Advisable name these guys. The office was additionally easy to deal with, promptly despatched me an e-mail confirmation so Five stars Replace 2 days later Seems the guys locked 2 of my file cabinets.

Fortunately I stumbled upon these guys and am blissful that I went with them. We went by way of just a few bad instances when we ended up camping in the woods with our youngsters and the daily hunt for food. Jannie, I do know of a couple of eating places that take food to the meals banks. They've made their Take 10! In addition to the Dunbar transaction, we have now two other transactions probably entering the LOI stage. I think administration at a senior stage didn’t watch it close sufficient, and that’s why we made a senior administration change. After 10 years working for others, Mr. Jupille formed RTJ Financial Management in 2000, centered on helping successful individuals achieve their monetary dreams. 1. Consider your ‘someday’ dreams rigorously. Your Self speaks to you through your desires, needs, and desires - recognized as instinct or intuition. Thus I consider that more might be done from each one among us.

Others on the market could charge you low cost rates, but they can even cause you complications, like damaged or lost belongings. The charge was exactly what I used to be quoted with none surprises. The new Netflix collection “Dead to Me” was scouting areas around Malibu and Hidden Valley in Ventura County when the fires broke out. Please reach out to the Equity Group and they're going to reach out to us and we will get something set up. Germany wouldn't be a place to wish to grasp out with out four sturdy walls and a very good heater within the winter. Appears like a spot you need to live in? Melrose Place and Charmed star Alyssa Milano revealed she was also evacuating alongside together with her horses. He was completely responsive whenever I referred to as or emailed him. Sam was very polite and professional when i called to e book them. Nice guys, fast, skilled and friendly. Liquid Liquid coalescers: What Ought to you recognize?

If you treasured this article therefore you would like to acquire more info with regards to santa monica moving services please visit our web site.

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thorne93 · 7 years

Text

Custody Battle (Part 6)

Prompt: You had a son with your first husband, Keanu, but he’s being raised by your new husband, Tom. The two men cannot stand each other, and every time Keanu shows up unannounced to see the kid, he and Tom always end up arguing.

Word Count: 2402

Warnings: divorce, anger, fighting, language

Notes: this took me so long to write….But thanks to my beta @like-a-bag-of-potatoes I got it done

Forever Tags: @capsmuscles @cocosierra94 @essie1876 @magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527 @missinstantgratification @thejemersoninferno @rda1989 @munlis @thefridgeismybestie @bubblyanarocks3 @random-fluffy-pink-unicorn @hardcollectionworldtrash @igiveupicantthinkofausername@kaliforniacoastalteens @feelmyroarrrr @kaeling @friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo

Tom Hiddleston: @camigt1999 @lenawiinchester

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Keanu and Tom had stuck to the deal you’d created. They attended their events and you had explained to Jaxton that everyone wanted to dedicate all their time and attention they could to the events that he had going on, but not everyone could be at every event. He said he was okay with it as long as someone was there for him, and so far, they had been. You’d made every game for soccer, and you left Keanu and Jaxton to the boy scout meetings, letting the men bond.

But now, of course, another thing had occurred for Jaxton. A birthday party. Not for him, but for a child in his class. He had brought home the silly looking invitation one day after school. So now, you had to take a night and go shopping with Jaxton to try and find a gift. As if you needed any more shit to do. Work was hectic as the year was coming to a close and the summer clothes were already in demand and you only had half your line sketched out. Not to mention running to all of his games, making sure dinner was on every night, keeping the house clean, and then getting him in bed every night.

“Alright, bud, what does this Carter kid like?” you asked as you pushed the cart and he sat in the big part of it, eyeing all the toys. “Does he like Hot Wheels, GI Joe, Monster trucks…?” you asked, listing off things as you saw them.

“I don’t really know,” he answered with a shrug.

“Oh, come on now, surely you noticed or heard him say something. Maybe his backpack has someone on it? Or maybe he was watching a movie he liked and said something to you?” you urged, praying you didn’t have to just pick up something generic.

“Mmmm,” he thought, twisting his little pink mouth to the side, looking adorable. “Oh, he likes Thor!” he suddenly said as he pointed to a Thor action figure. You wanted to laugh, but you resisted.

“Oh yeah?” you murmured as you pulled the figure off the wall. It was about $40, which was steep for a child’s toy, but you and Tom could spare some money for him. Heaven forbid you didn’t get a nice gift then all the other parents berate you for being rich and not sparing a dime on their kid. You rolled your eyes at the very thought.

Eyeing it, you had an idea for the toy, dropping it in the car.

Next was the birthday boy wrapping and birthday card. So the two of you ventured there, then picked up pizza on the way home, since you wouldn’t have time to make dinner.

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

The party day had arrived and you were ready to take Jaxton and the gift to the party. Tom would be working about sixteen hours today and Keanu was on a press tour for one of his movies.

“Jaxton! Come on, baby!” you called up the stairs as you checked your phone for the time, gathering your purse, the gift, the card, and everything else you needed to get him to this party.

A minute later, you heard his little legs coming down the stairs.

“Ready, bud?” you asked sweetly and he nodded. “Okay, let’s go,” you said with a smile as you led him outside, locked the door, and then got in the SUV and drove about twenty minutes to the boy’s home.

Jaxton got out, offering to take the present, you handed it to him, and took your purse and the card, going to the door and ringing the doorbell. A blonde woman, probably the Carter’s mother, answered.

“Hey!” she greeted, smiling brightly at you two.

“Hi! I hope we aren’t too late!” you said, realizing you were about five minutes late.

“No not at all. I’m Rebecca,” she said, leaning forward and shaking your hand.

“Y/N,” you responded. “And this here is Jaxton,” you said, putting your hand on his head as he smiled up at her.

“So nice to meet you. Well come on in! Jaxton, you can put that present over here with the others,” she instructed.

He followed her to the table and you handed him the card to stick with the gift. Meanwhile, you looked around at all of the balloons, decorations, the cake over on the counter. It was any kid’s dream birthday party.

“Everyone is out back in the bouncy house if you’d like to join them,” she said, leaning down to be closer to eye level with your son. He nodded and ran off.

You laughed and smiled as his dark curls bounced around his cherub, pale face, and you saw him join about ten other kids in a bouncy house.

“So, Y/N, what do you do?” Rebecca asked as a mom came from the backyard, leaving another woman out there.

“Oh, I design clothes,” you said simply.

The other woman slid up beside Rebecca, eyeing your knee length red dress, shiny pump heels, handbag, and accessories. You looked like you’d just stepped off a fashion magazine photoshoot.

“And...is this your design?” the new woman, a dark brunette with olive skin asked, a slight distaste in her tone and expression.

“Actually, yes, it is. I try to wear my designs as often as possible. To be a bit of a billboard,” you said, laughing but they didn’t return the gesture.

“I’m Lori, by the way,” the brunette suddenly said.

“Y/N,” you introduced, shaking her hand.

“So, Y/N, are you one of those designers that overprices her clothing so high normal, middle class people can’t wear them?” Lori inquired with a challenging eyebrow quirk.

You shook your head slightly, pursing your lips. “I don’t believe so.”

“How much is that dress?”

“About $95, but some of my dresses go as low as $35 and up to $1000... I try to market business savvy, professional women who want a fresh look. I don’t want women to feel like as soon as they hit thirty they have to suddenly settle for drab colors and patterns, but I don’t want them to feel like they’re dressing out of their age. I try to make it so that a realtor, an accountant, a marketing advisor...any professional woman can feel youthful and vibrant.”

“Do you always remember your mission statement?” Rebecca asked, incredulous.

“Well...it is my mission statement,” you reminded, getting a very jealous and hateful vibe from these women.

“Right,” Rebecca noted as she eyed you up and down. “Well, you’re welcome to stay or if you have things to attend to…” she said, sneering at you.

Typically, you would’ve left Jaxton to have fun, but these women were being vicious to you, what would they do to your child if you left him alone? Would they single him out too? Would they cast judgement?

“No, I think I’ll stay…” you said.

They nodded, looking at you as if you were a walking parasite.

“So, Lori, what do you do?” you asked.

“I’m a domestic engineer.”

“So...a stay at home mom?” you clarified.

She nodded, as if she were a CEO. “Mhm.”

The three of you continued to talk as you learned their occupations and their kids’ ‘names. Then you set out to help the kids, play with them, get drinks for them. The pizza was delivered and all the kids horded around the food as if they’d never seen food before. You helped get pizza’s on plates and get the kids the slices they wanted. After that, it was cake and ice cream time. They got Carter a Thor cake and you smiled, knowing he would absolutely flip over the gift you and Jaxton had picked out. Rebecca cut the cake, and Lori scooped the ice cream.

“Can I help?” you asked as you walked over to Lori.

“Are you sure? Wouldn’t want you to dirty up that pretty dress of yours,” she remarked.

You frowned slightly. “I’m sorry. Did I do something to offend you or did we get off on the wrong foot or…?”

She put her hands on the counter as she looked at you. “We don’t like rich women in the area pretending they’re better than us. Just because you’re some hot shot designer and married two actors doesn’t make you some superstar, okay?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think I was making anyone feel bad,” you offered.

“My kid wants to know why he doesn't have brand new shoes like Jaxton, or why his coat isn’t as nice as Jaxton or why he doesn’t have all the newest and greatest comic book stuff. So you and your son know you’re shoving your money in everyone’s faces,” she retorted.

“I would never do that,” you evenly said. “I’m sorry you feel that way but my son nor I would ever make anyone feel bad about money.”

“Save it, okay?” she said, exhaustion in her voice as she carried over the ice cream plates.

You frowned, not understanding why they held a resentment towards you or your son. You sighed and just let it go and rejoined the festivities, texting Tom.

“Do you think I flaunt our money?” you texted.

“What? No? Why?”

“This mom here....well, she said I pretend I’m better than everyone,” you said, chewing your lip.

“You don’t, darling. You’re classy and you like finer things. But I’ve never seen you rub it in anyone’s face…”

“Thanks,” you said.

“Sounds like a fun party, hehe.”

You smiled at his response, loving the fact that he could always make you smile, even when you were feeling mad or upset.

“Oh, it is, lol. Jaxton seems to be having a good time.”

“Well, that’s all that matters, right? : )”

“Right,” you agreed.

You put your phone away in your handbag and the eating finished and Rebecca announced that it was time to open gifts and all of the kids cheered and squealed. The presents were getting opened and you realized a lot of the gifts were way under the budget you’d spent. The most expensive gift you’d seen so far was about $20 and it was for a monster truck you’d remembered seeing at the store.

They got to yours and Jaxton’s gift and Carter tore off the paper excitedly, seeing a Thor action figure.

“Oh my gosh! Wow!” he exclaimed, clearly excited as he gripped it. “Thank you!” he said.

“Thor signed it!” Jaxton said suddenly, pointing at it.

Rebecca, Lori, and Charlene, the other mom, snapped their eyes to you then back to the gift.

“Mhm, Thor signed it,” you confirmed. “Flip it over,” you instructed and Carter did. On the back, in big black Sharpie, you had Chris sign it. He signed it as Thor and as himself. It said “To Carter, from the Mighty Thor.”

“You had Chris Hemsworth sign a Thor action figure?” Lori asked, clearly put out with you.

You shrugged. “Well, yeah, he’s a good friend of ours, especially Tom’s. We just called him and--”

“And how much did this set you back?” Rebecca demanded. “This is the collector’s edition. It’s about fifty bucks,” she remarked, looking t the other women, shock and disdain on her face. “But adding that signature makes it over $100.”

“I’m sorry, I don't understand the problem. I got your son a wonderful gift,” you said, confused, gesturing to the box still in his hands.

“There was a $20 cap,” Charlene informed, her voice condescending.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” you said, apologetic. You weren’t trying to show anyone up, but you were new to the whole birthday thing. You didn’t want to show up with a cheap gift and everyone accusing you of being a tightass.

“Well maybe if you spent more time being a mother, and spent time with your son, you would know,” Lori snapped.

Your eyes went wide at her attack. Was she really attacking you for being a working mother? For supporting your child? For supporting your family?

“Excuse me for wanting to get your child a thoughtful, priceless gift. I won’t make that mistake again with any of you.” You started yanking your things onto your arms. “Jaxton, baby, come on, we’re leaving. Clearly we aren’t welcome here.”

“No, you’re not,” Rebecca noted as Jaxton was out of his chair and walking over to you, his face fallen.

“I told you she’s a stuck up you-know-what,” Lori said quietly to the other two.

You gritted your teeth. “You know what? I’m not going to feel bad that I didn’t know about this stupid spending cap. Not all of us can lay round on our asses all day while our kids are at school. Some of us work to support our families, to make sure they have the very best. If you don’t like your kids feeling inadequate, don’t blame me or my son, get up off your ass and do something about it,” you snapped.

You took Jaxton’s hand and nearly ran out of the home, getting him in the car and belted in before driving home, muttering the entire time. A few times, you chanced a glance to Jaxton, who seemed sad. You assumed it was because you’d taken him from the party early.

“Bud, I’m real sorry about all of that,” you said, reaching over and patting his leg. “Those other mom’s were being real mean to me though and...Mommy lost her cool,” you said, sighing and running a hand through your hair.

“Now they’ll be even meaner to me,” he said so quietly, so under his breath you almost didn’t catch it.

You narrowed your eyes and stopped at a red light. “What did you say?” you inquired, your voice gentle but firm.

“The other kids...they...they’re gonna be mean to me now. More than ever,” he informed.

“The other kids are mean to you?” you asked before someone honked behind you, letting you know the light had turned green, but you’d been facing Jaxton and not paying attention. You jumped, waved a friendly wave in the mirror, and drove forward. “Honey, I want you to hold that thought, okay? We’ll talk when we get home.”

Your hands were kneading the steering wheel as your gut dropped. Your chest filled with dread. The idea of your son being bullied was...nauseating, enraging, and heartbreaking.

#custody battle #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston #keanu reeves fic #keanu reeves

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hearthmistress · 7 years

Text

Four Times Dean Winchester Guesses Wrong

Pairing: Castiel/ Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/ OMCs, Aaron Bass/ Dean Winchester (attempted)

Tags: Bisexual!Dean Winchester, Growing up, coming out, self-acceptance, homophobia, homophobic language, brief violence, 5+1 things except it’s 4+1 because i didn’t want to write another scene

Word Count: 2,091

Summary: Dean Winchester is a man of many talents. Gaydar is not one of them.

(Read on A03)

1. He’s a small nerdy-looking dude, thin without the trace of the typical high school boy’s need for alpha-maleness. He wears glasses, plays in band, and is called gay and a faggot by the football team on a regular basis.

And Dean thought he would be a safe bet.

While Dean might pretend to cheer with the other guys and doesn’t do anything to interfere, he’s secretly attracted to the nebbish guy named Thomas, whose dark hair and blue eyes and inability to go through the day without getting his books dumped into the trash, replaces his fantasies of big-boobed models in his morning showers.

By seventeen Dean knows that being attracted to dudes will ruin his life. His father, his brother, Bobby — they would all look at him differently if they knew. Would look down on him for being this way. So he keeps this part of him to himself and learns to play it safe.

Thomas looks safe.

So it takes him by surprise after he rescues Thomas’s books from the nearest garbage bin and offers to take him on a date that Thomas looks at him with open disgust, the thankful expression replaced by hatred and horror.

It’s the first time in Dean’s life that he’s ever seen this reaction directed at him by another human being. Of course, it certainly won’t be the last.

He corners Thomas the next day and threatens the dude, swearing if he hears anything about what happened the day before, he’ll pay, because Dean Winchester isn’t some fucking queer.

Three days later, Dean finds himself behind a bleacher, sucking the cock of one of the jocks who trashed Thomas’ books in the first place.

2. Dean’s nineteen and should know better.

He’s been in this life since he was four years old and because of this, he has grown up tougher and older than his years. He has killed beings (not humans, just sick imitations of them), has hunted, and has travelled across the country more times than he can count. He’s faced monsters, had limbs broken, and has seen more than any of his peers, and there are permanent markings across his young body that can prove this.

Yet, this is the first time he’s ever been truly scared for his life.

This is his mistake. He should know that bars like this — bars filled with tough bikers, road-weary truckers and seasoned hunters — are not the places where you stick your neck out.

But he swears the guy was flirting with him.

The dude is in his late twenties, maybe early thirties, is built like a lumberjack with blonde hair and tough brown eyes and he’s clearly flirting with Dean.

Dean knows the signs — the constant glances at his lips, the offer of another drink, the way he laughs at all of Dean’s dumb jokes. The guy wants to get with him, and Dean, with Dad and Sammy both busy on a case, doesn’t mind that at all.

But when they exit the bar together and Dean leans over and kisses the guy, he gets smacked in the face.

“What the fuck are you doing? You fag!”

He’s heard the term thrown at small thin dudes who like theatre, has heard his father curtly use it when passing certain men, has heard it tossed around locker rooms for the entirety of his high school career, but it’s never been directly aimed at him.

He would be outraged, but the guy lands another punch, catching him off guard, and Dean is on the ground before he can protest. Another blow is aimed at him and he can feel blood on his face and the air leaving his lungs. He can’t see out of one of his eyes and there’s the taste of iron in his mouth. The man starts kicking him and Dean doesn’t react, doesn’t do anything, just curls up into a ball, crying out for help. If his dad could see him now…

The guy keeps kicking and Dean thinks, honestly thinks, he’s going to die here in some alleyway behind a skeevy bar, not by a monster, but by a human. But the guy grows tired and Dean is left curled up, moaning and thoroughly bruised. He’s pretty sure a rib or two is broken.

He tells his dad that he got jumped after cheating in a game of pool. His dad tells him he deserved that and Dean wonders if John would have the same response if Dean told him what really happened.

3. It’s the first time that he’s worked a case completely on his own. Sammy’s gone and Dad keeps disappearing, keeps leaving Dean with nothing better to do. Dean scouts out a haunting, something simple, something he can’t fail at, so he can prove that he can do this, that he can make his dad proud.

Of course, it all goes to shit.

Not the case itself, which is surprisingly easy. It’s the afterwards that gets a little messy.

The guy whose apartment is haunted is grateful, like really really grateful. Once Dean comes back, dirty and smelling of gasoline and decay, the guy, David, offers him a drink.

“You do this all the time?” David asks. “Like you burn bodies?”

“Only if they’re causing trouble,” Dean says, taking a swig of his beer.

“That’s so cool, man. So cool.”

Maybe it’s the alcohol (it’s probably that), maybe it’s because David makes him feel good about what he does, makes it worth it, and maybe it’s because he’s kind of adorable, geeking out like this, Dean leans forwards and kisses him.

David freezes beneath him and Dean pulls away, disappointed and worried, waiting for the slurs, for the shouting to begin. David just looks puzzled though, a little stunned.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, I didn't mean that,” Dean rushes out.

“No, no. It’s okay,” David reaches out (and Dean pretends he doesn’t lean in, doesn’t crave the touch). “I’m not mad. I’m just processing this. I’m just surprised that’s all. That you would want this.”

So Dean leans in again, but David pulls back.

“I’m not gay,” he says kindly, but firmly.

“I’m not either.”

“I’m also not bi.”

“Bi?” Dean asks, the term feels foreign and uncomfortable rolling off his tongue. David’s face lights up as he explains what it means, what other terms means, how the capacity of human love is not contained in just two little terms.

Dean might not have gotten laid that night, but he learns. He practices the word “bisexual” in the mirror, looking at himself, in his mind going over and over the term till it becomes as familiar on his tongue as the taste of greasy roadside burgers and convenience store pie.

Sometimes, when his dad is gone, Dean even says it out loud.

4. This time it’s not Dean’s fault.

The dude was definitely flirting with him- and not like the knock three times on a bathroom stall door, quick glances in the park, kind of flirting.

No, this guy, this tiny dude, clearly has the hots for Dean. He’s been giving him the old goo-goo eyes, discreetly glancing away but also saying, “come talk with me” while Dean was trying to interview two seniors about a dead Rabbi. Plus, the guy went on about how they had a “little eye magic” and Dean’s flustered because never in his life has anyone dared to outright flirt with him like that (outside gay bars and truck stops, of course). There’s not two meanings about this, this guy is into Dean.

Until he’s not.

Turns out Dean’s gay thing is way less gay than he thought.

“So let me get this straight, you’re…” Dean waves his hands around the general area of Aaron.

“Like I said, I was tailing you,” Aaron replies, pushing a stein of beer towards him. “Gotta say, kind of didn’t expect it to go down that way, thought you might punch me for flirting with you.”

“You couldn’t tell? Like it wasn’t obvious that I… I like dudes too.” There’s a panic bubbling inside, a worry that comes from a life of not only hiding his sexuality, but everything else about himself.

“Not ‘til you hit that table,” Aaron chuckles.

“Just my luck,” Dean mumbles.

“Dude, I’m sorry if I led you on. I honestly just panicked and that was the first thing that came to mind. I’m cool with it,” he quickly adds when he sees Dean’s face, which is probably red. “Actually I’m flattered that you would be interested. You’re a really attractive guy! Like if I swung that way, I would.”

“Well, you don’t.”

“I don’t,” Aaron confirms, his voice friendly, with no hint of judgement or disgust. “And to apologize, I’ll buy you another beer.”

It could’ve been worse, hell, it has been worse, so Dean accepts the beer and lets an evening of small talk and chatter wash away any of the embarrassment he has left.

+1 “I’m indifferent to sexual orientations.”

Dean remembers hearing that line on the news, loud and clear, and thinking, “but what does that mean?”

Does it mean Cas is above sexual identities or does it mean he doesn’t care about what humans decide to label their sex lives. Not that he really has time to process it, what with Cas being God and all.

And after that…

Well, maybe he thinks about it, wonders what it means for him, but he also places it in the back of his mind, something he can figure out later. Maybe once the world isn’t about to be taken over by ancient dicks, maybe when Cas isn’t, you know, dead.

And it pops into his mind as an angry thought, a bitter reminder when Cas does come back from the dead, this time married to a woman and looking at Dean like he’s a stranger and it hurts, it fucking hurts, because all Dean can think is but what does this mean for us? The question weighs heavy, and when Cas really comes back, Dean feels like he can breathe again, that he can stand up and deal with the world, but course, Cas decides to take all that hurt, all that crazy and put it back into him, and Dean is left, once again, with questions and uncertainties.

There’s a moment, he thinks, where he might have his answer, but it’s gone when Cas decides to stay behind, letting Dean and Benny escape, and now Dean’s left with nothing.

And so, Dean learns to accept that some questions can never be answered, not for him anyways.

But then, he gets his answer.

It happens once everything has died out, when there’s no leviathans left, when Cas isn’t dead or Emmanuel or crazy, when the gates of hell are closed, when there’s no mark of Cain burning on his skin, when there’s no heaven or hell on their backs, that’s when he gets his answer and he no longer has to guess. He’s leaning against the counter, making a sandwich, when the question comes back into his head.

“I’m indifferent to sexual orientation.”

It makes him drop his knife and turn to Cas, who has looked up quickly from the clatter on the counter.

“Dean?” he inquires, although most of his attention is still on the book in front of him. Beekeeping, maybe? Cas has been talking a lot lately about getting some hives, but Dean’s not sure if he’s joking or not.

Dean’s not really sure what’s going on with Cas. Sure, he’s living with them and all that, but is that what Cas really wants? Is he just staying here because of some misplaced loyalty to the brothers? Because he has nowhere else to go? And what did Cas mean all those years ago?

“Dean,” Cas repeats, clearly amused.

“Huh? What?”

“Are you okay?”

I’m fine, is what he plans on saying, but instead it comes out as “Cas-do-you-remember-all-those-years-ago-when-you-were-God-and-you-said-you-didn’t-care-about-sexual-orientation? What-did-you-mean? Like-do-you-care-that-I’m-Bi? Does-that-matter-to-you?”

Cas smiles, rising from the table and stands next to Dean.

“It means that I’m an angel and that we do not have genders, don’t understand the concept of sexual orientations or identities. It means this…”

And Cas leans over, gently grabbing Dean’s chin, and kisses him, kisses out all those self-doubts, all that self-loathing, kisses out any questions that might still be in Dean’s head.

Cas pulls away, taking the sandwich-filled plate with him.

“And that means,” he says, taking bite of the sandwich, “that you don’t have to guess about us.”

#destiel #fan fic #destiel fanfic #deancas #dean winchester #bi bi bi #spn #my writing #i only used italics once which is a record for me #where's my medal for that

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