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wyn-n-tonic · 4 years

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Golden, Like Daylight -- Part V

Word Count: 2,005 Warnings: PTSD. Allusions to sex (it borders on the edge of smut but we should know by now I'm shit at that). Hint of a praise kink. Bit of marking kink. Death. Ben Affleck. Author's Note: The last few chapters have taken a lot out of me, I put a lot of my own experiences with PTSD and mental health into them. I tried to make this fluffy, I needed that comfort after a hard week and I feel lighter for it. As always, thank you so much for your kind words and loving this like I do.

MASTERLIST | PART: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX

“Fuck you.” Benny stares straight into Tom’s eyes. "This is my fuck you money.” The held breaths are louder than gunshots, waiting for a reaction that doesn’t come.

Cold Camp Davis grunts a laugh, “We don’t have enough men to carry all this money so we might as well be warm.”

Benny giggles like a child as he grabs a strap, zippo clicking to ignition again.

The laughter that bubbles up is like a light, warmer than the thousands of dollars burning bright against his eyes.

Frankie, you might as well take your salary out on the front lawn and pour some kerosene on it.

He hears it so clearly in his head and in his heart, Leah teasing him for all the lights being on the first time he took her home.

Tom stands up, dumping an entire case down to tinder in the cold air.

Eight dates in and she’d already witnessed one of his attacks. It was the third date, he’d wanted to take her home that night. His body on hers for hours. Wanted to make breakfast the next morning, having already committed to memory the way she takes her coffee. Instead, she spent that night holding tightly to his hands as his panic crescendoed in the backseat of his car.

If it wasn’t then that he realized he loved her, it was in the way she turned to look at him when he quietly said,

The lights being on make me feel safe.

It wasn’t pity, like he’s used to. It wasn’t the look somebody gives a broken man with a broken mind and a broken soul. The only change he found in the already soft features was an understanding behind the dark eyes staring back at him.

This fire makes him feel safe now.

He’s always straining in the dark. It’s not just about watching his six. It’s all twelve hands on deck with two eyes and a ringing in his ears so intense he can feel it in his toes.

But here? It beats back against the edges of gloom that have continuously threatened to consume him.

He can sweep enclosed spaces in minutes, assess the situation and the danger within. It’s a lot harder in the extended wilds, nothing but the moon to guide the eye.

Before Leah—and for a while there after—he combed room for room upon his arrival home. He’d ask her to stay in the car, his conceal carry coming out as soon as the door would swing open.

He’d sheepishly grin, collecting her from the passenger side after his survey and she’d hug him. Holding tightly around his middle section, pressing her cold hands up under his shirt to that hot place where his heart beats and whisper with genuine gratitude,

Thank you for protecting me, Frankie.

It was never condescending, that’s all he ever wanted to do. Protect her. Protect himself. Protect the men giggling like schoolboys around him right now.

And he liked being told what a good job he did at that. —————

“What's Frankie short for?” Barely audible, her breath fanning across his chest as she continues to catch it. Like willing waves of normalcy in the aftermath of a hurricane.

“Francisco.”

“Francisco,” she repeats, dragging out the o. “Do you like it?”

“Used to make me feel like I was in trouble, very harsh coming from pissed off higher ups and even angrier parents but it sounds…” he thinks on that for a second, the events of the night still rippling through his body, “a lot sweeter in your mouth.”

“Watch yourself,” she hums a kiss into the flat plane of his breast before sinking her teeth into the flesh there, biting as hard as she can.

A chuckle vibrates from deep within him, “one hell of a bite too, I won’t soon forget.”

He looks down into her eyes, bright with mischief as she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth now. He’d had hickeys before but never like this. He surveys the purple marks across his body, somehow burning brighter than the rest of him, and a contentedness pools in the pit of his stomach. Her stamps on him in easily hidden spaces to match the lipstick stains she’s started marking across his right cheek in the moments before they walk into the bar or the restaurant.

Little ways she says mine.

And he is hers. He knows it in the steady way his lungs rise and fall underneath her now.

He brushes a soft wave from where it tickles across her nose, “is Leah short for anything?”

Her nose scrunches, “not a goddamn thing.”

“Do you know what it means then?” His large hand is sprawled across her lower back, the weight of it an anchor.

Don’t leave me, it says.

“I don’t know,” she drawls, the slight twang coming forward in moments of exhaustion and inebriation, “just think my mama liked the sound of it is all.”

His heart is blazing underneath her cheek as she settles against him once more, her soft voice tumbles towards him, “Francisco…” as her eyelashes brush against his skin and he swears he can count them all on sensation alone.

“Yeah, baby?”

He feels a smile tug at her lips, stopped in its tracks where she’s rooted into him. It’s the first time he’s called her that.

“I have nightlights.”

The light makes her feel safe too. —————

He’s standing over Tom’s body and he hates to admit it but the feeling washing over him is one of relief.

Relief mingled with guilt.

Guilt that nobody was watching his six, his back wide open to the world behind it. Five seasoned fucking veterans and nobody watching the higher ground.

Relief at the silence he knows will engulf the group now. No more orders from a child who should’ve never been granted the lead to begin with.

Guilt because he was climbing up a fucking rock when he should’ve been doing his job as a friend and brother.

Relief that it wasn’t his brains splashed across stone.

His head is fucking pounding and it has been for days, pain dulled by consistency but never not there.

At least I can feel my fucking head.

He thinks of all the other things he can feel now, the things service beat from his body.

The ache in his limbs, heavy with exhaustion.

He’s dreading adding the dead weight of a dead body to the load.

The pang in his stomach, too used to consistently hot food.

He wants black coffee and bacon and tiny spoonfuls of sweet potato puree he airplanes into his own mouth to show Luna it won’t hurt her. Hell, he’d take the mushed peas right now.

Benny’s sobbing. The one amongst them all that never breaks is the broken one now.

He’s staring off again at everything and nothing, Santiago and Will unfurling bags for the body.

What a present to bring home.

It was always the risk they faced, they knew it.

If you were lucky, truly lucky, you came home whole. Untouched, unscathed, unmarred. The safe deployments, the technical shit, the brains behind the operations never seeing bloodshed. Everybody else though? Some were held together by duct tape and pure grit.

Others tied up in a flag with a bow.

Daddy’s not coming home but here’s a purple heart for the dress uniform he’ll never wear again.

I should’ve done more.

He’s not getting a purple heart for this.

I should’ve held on tighter.

He didn’t die in service to his country, he died in service to himself.

I should’ve made a bigger issue of the weight.

Another family he’s failed to protect.

I should’ve said no. —————

The darkness is cut through with a warm glow in every outlet as the clock tips over the edge of midnight.

Wednesday, the eleventh of October.

Nose to nose, the excitement of the day hangs over them like a wave threatening to crash. A giddiness in their bed forcing sleep to the edges of thought.

“Do you think they’re gonna know?” Her voice is soft, featherlight. Trying not to disturb the peaceful bubble they find themselves in now.

“No,” he lifts to press his lips gently into hers, “but I can’t promise I won’t shout it out on the altar.”

Panic takes her eyes, he knows it all too well and he’s gripping tighter before she can inhale. Fingers splayed across the small of her back, the weight of it a comfort to the tender bones and aching muscles.

I'm right here, it says.

“Breathe, breathe,” he’s speaking softly into her hair, “it was just a joke, baby.”

“You're not funny, Francisco Morales.” She speaks it like a fact, like she doesn’t spend hours in his arms filling his head with the music of her laughter. She says it like he isn’t watching smile lines appear in real time, falling more in love with each one.

“Would it be so bad though? If I did? If people knew?” It’s hope in his voice that she’ll say yes. That he can announce to his best friends all at once, every single one, before Santi leaves again. He doesn't want his happiness to arrive by text message. He wants to see the light of congratulation dancing around him.

“I don’t want to jinx it,” she’s scared, “besides… it’s not traditional.”

He scoffs, “what about us has ever been traditional, mi alma?”

“I'll make you a deal,” her fingers run through the stubble along his jaw, thumbs lingering over the patches, “don’t shave this tomorrow and you can tell the boys.”

“You want me to keep this malnourished shit on my face? For our wedding?”

Her giggles vibrate against him, “Yes. I have plans for it after you say I do.”

He growls, “this deal sounds pretty sweet to my lazy soul, what do you get out of it?”

“Hmm…” she brings her hand up to tap on her chin, “well, to begin, I’m getting a hot husba—”

“Debatable.”

“I'll fuck you up, Morales, take the compliment.”

He laughs a kiss into her, “what else?”

“Benny and Will will become automatic attack dogs around me, I’m fairly certain they will clear their schedules for all of April to stand guard outside the room. My own personal security team.”

He laughs again at the truth in her words, “what else?”

She pushes forward again, taking his lip between hers. A soft kiss with the burning desire for more.

“I’ll wake up on Thursday morning with a rawness between my legs that I’m usually only gifted on the weekends.”

His grip tightens, any suggestion of sleep leaving his body in a rush of blood straight through him, “I will never shave again.”

“Don't threaten me with a good time, my love.”

He rolls himself into her at that, kissing down her jaw. Her neck. The sensitive skin of her breasts, low lying cotton barely above indecency. He raises the hem, the curve of her belly burning hot against his lips, two hearts now beating inside her.

He grabs the elastic around her hips and gently pulls, kisses so soft across her pelvis they feign an innocence to his true intentions. Her legs kick out to help discard the fabric tangling her ankles as he settles broad shoulders at the base of her being.

Her fingers twirl through the soft curls that have been crushed against a pillow for hours by her side.

He kisses her soft thighs, slowly dragging his rough cheek against the delicate flesh.

“Francisco,” her fingers flex tighter as he looks up to meet her eyes, “don’t be such a fucking tease.”

He smiles wide, the devilish grin splitting his face as he drops his eyes to where she wants him, the fever that’s taken over her body in the last three months beckoning him in.

His hands are heavy on her hips, clenching deep purple into her. Marks in easily hidden spaces, his little ways of saying mine.

#frankie morales #francisco 'catfish' morales #francisco morales #i believe in francisco morales supremacy #triple frontier #fanfic #fanfiction #pedro pascal #oc #ofc #original character #original female character #francisco catfish morales #pedro pascal fanfiction

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haec-est-fides · 4 years

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“What have you done?” : Why Riordan’s Handling of Triumvirate Holdings Sucks

I put my thoughts under a cut to make it easier to avoid spoilers and to save you all from a long post,,,like a really long post.

Basically, I think it was inevitable that Riordan fumble Triumvirate Holdings. He simply designed a villain network too powerful and too extensive to ever be handled properly by the heroes. He did try to address,,,some of it, but in the end I think he just made it worse.

I. Let’s talk about Triumvirate Holdings.

The way that Riordan established the origins of the Triumvirate and the extent of their power made it too big to handle from the beginning. The emperors have been around for centuries. It’s mentioned countless times how much property they own, how much money they have, and how many businesses are actually under their control. Rachel says it well in Hidden Oracle: “They make my dad’s company look like a kid’s lemonade stand.” Nero brings it up again in Tower of Nero: “What you don’t seem to realize, Apollo, is that you can’t destroy bank accounts with a bow and arrows. All my assets, all the power I’ve built up for centuries -- it’s all safe.” Think of what Caligula did to Piper and her dad, how deep that ran and how many people were involved. Think of how the Triumvirate funded both Luke and Octavian. All of this goes to show how deeply rooted Triumvirate Holdings is, especially -- unlike other villains -- in the mortal world.

This never really gets taken into account. For instance, Apollo does wonder if Meg will inherit Nero’s tower, but it seems as if she doesn’t, nor do any of the other imperials who go with her to Palm Springs. They live off of the Sibyl’s tarot card business, which strongly implies that they took nothing from the tower -- or the company -- at all.

Apollo also mentions Camp Half-Blood getting the weapons and Greek fire from Nero’s tower, but that is so poorly thought out that I want to scream. Nero had designed special holding tanks for the Greek fire, tanks that Rachel pointed out could be mistaken for a water-treatment facility. And we’re transferring it to a summer camp? Yikes.

Beyond the question of the material, there’s the question of personnel. Mortals, demigods / legacies, monsters, Germani, etc. were all involved with Triumvirate Holdings. I’ll address the Germani in a moment, but the sheer numbers involved make the fall of the company either impossible or devastating. It is conceivable that the mortals, business people and mercenaries alike, could move on and the Mist would do its work. Still, that’s thousands of people jobless. The unemployment rate just skyrocketed. Further, the monsters once under Triumvirate control are now presumably free to cause havoc as well.

Before moving on entirely, multiply all of that by three. Commodus and Caligula employed mortals and monsters as well, and who knows what happened to their material possessions. (Besides the fifty yachts in San Francisco Bay, ofc. Millions of dollars, minimum, at the bottom of the ocean.)

What I’m most concerned about, however, are the demigods / legacies, especially those raised by or who spent considerable time with the Triumvirate. An experience like that shapes people, and not for the better.

II. Let’s talk about the Imperial Households.

Starting with Nero’s household, I think it’s clear that Riordan brushed over the imperials to have his wholesome ending, which is entirely understandable. Even so, he creates such a conflicting view of them that his “they all moved to Aeithales and Healed” bit is so shallow. Apollo’s views in particular cause this problem.

Initially, the fact that the imperials are enemies puts them in this strange category where they’re minors and people (like Meg) but them being harmed or even killed,,,isn’t a bad thing? Chiron, directing new campers during the Greek attack on the tower, yells, “Try not to kill enemy demigods or mortals! Okay, well, from now on, then!” It’s given the weight of a throw-away line. Apollo later goes so far as to think, “I wondered where the other three missing adoptees had gone -- if they’d been captured or had fallen in battle to Camp Half-Blood. I tried not to feel any satisfaction at the thought, but it was difficult.” (Emphasis mine. Oh, and if anyone is interested, this is almost an exact parallel to what Apollo says in Tyrant’s Tomb about Octavian’s death.) I’m not saying that Apollo hasn’t really changed or that heroes have to value the lives of their enemies, but this isn’t the best foot to start on.

In Nero’s throne room, when Meg gets her imperial siblings under control, Apollo comments on how close they are to siding with Nero: “[Meg] reminded me of one of Hades’s dog trainers working with a pack of new hellhounds. ...any sign of weakness from her, any change in the temperature of the battle, and they might break ranks and slaughter everyone in sight.” Even after Nero’s death, the imperials break down. Raging, sobbing, catatonic -- whatever the case, not exactly the best candidates for a smooth adjustment to ordinary life.

Apollo and Meg briefly chat about how the household will need support to heal, but Apollo still notes, with some real hesitancy, “There were no guarantees. The imperial demigods had dealt with so much for so long, some of them might never be able to come back from the darkness.” A short while later, at Aeithales, Apollo observes that the imperials “seemed determined to garden, as if their sanity depended on it, which perhaps it did.” While Cassius, at the very least, seems to be adjusting well, who’s to say that the others are? They can’t garden forever. I just can’t picture this ending as well as Riordan leaves it.

All of that is bad enough, but we know that Nero’s “household” is larger than just the twelve demigods he adopted, and it’s likely that Commodus and Caligula had similar households. Remember Marcus, Meg’s escort in Dark Prophecy? Whether he was one of Nero’s twelve (and got replaced) or not, his existence is evidence that there are far more demigods / legacies involved than the series’ focus would make us think at first glance. We do see members of Commodus’ household in Dark Prophecy, in the stands of the stadium and in the battle against the Waystation -- “a few dozen” even. Interestingly, Caligula is the only triumvir who doesn’t seem to have a household at all, as they’re never mentioned aboard his yachts. That may be exactly as it seems, with him preferring not to have a household out of paranoia. However, I still think it’d be more reasonable to assume that he had some kind of household than to assume otherwise.

Nero’s household appears to have been the most imperial and the most like a family, but that doesn’t mean we can brush off the other households as a non-issue. Considering the lack on information on the subject, it’s entirely possible that the other two emperors did adopt kids. In any case, we can’t judge the loyalty of these unknown demigods / legacies, and they certainly seem to have fallen through the cracks. It’s doubtful that Nero’s children will be able to “heal” even with Meg’s help and a place totally removed from their old life. If the others don’t have any kind of support system? If they’re left to their own devices? That’s a recipe for disaster. They’re likely to cling to the system they know in whatever ways they can.

As a bit of a thought experiment to drive this home, consider: what would Octavian do if he were part of Triumvirate Holdings when the news arrived that the emperors were all dead? I think it’s clear than the answer is not “go live a normal life and pretend the Triumvirate never existed.” It would be naive to think that not a single person in the Triumvirate’s sphere is willing to step up and take over.

III. Let’s talk about the Germani.

Riordan actually explained this well, but then proceeded to fuck up.

I had questioned why the Germani -- ordinary legacies / humans -- could be turned to “monster” dust once resurrected and put in an emperor’s service. What kind of afterlife did that mean they had? Thankfully, Riordan touched on this! As @triumvirateds pointed out on my older post, the Germani -- like most ordinary monsters -- did come back in a day or two after being killed. This apparent immortality, we find, is tied to the Triumvirate’s power, symbolized by each emperor’s fasces. When the Germani were revived, however the Triumvirate accomplished that, they became removed from any usual afterlife until released from the Triumvirate’s service and made “regular people” again.

(This does raise some technical questions. Were each group of Germani tied to a specific emperor? Meaning that the troops on the West coast were “released” when Commodus’ and Caligula’s fasces were destroyed? I’m fairly certain that they still turned to dust during the final confrontation with New Rome. That would imply that their loyalty was tied to the Triumvirate as a whole, and their bond transferred to Nero’s fasces with the power of the other two emperors.)

However, I can’t believe Riordan decided that the Germani would simply be regular people after Nero’s death. Throughout the series, Apollo often remarks that the Germani are a threat because of their loyalty. Remember when the Germani were described as “sensitive about insults to the Imperial person” and nearly killed Apollo for looking at Nero wrong? Well, now Apollo says, “I supposed none of them loved the idea of staying loyal to the cause of a dead emperor.” I’m reminded of when, after Commodus and Caligula were defeated in New Rome, the army ran away and was never mentioned again. In both cases, the Germani are brushed off as disloyal / uncaring and no thought is given as to how they’re supposed to integrate into modern society.

“But wait,” you might argue, “They’re mercenaries. Many of them, like Luguselwa, probably don’t care about the emperors.” Sure. There’s definitely a long history of mercenary troops not being the most loyal, especially when there isn’t a clear leader. However, I have to bring up the fact that when Nero died (in actual history) the German guard was disbanded by one of the following emperors due to their perceived loyalty to Nero, even in death. (Also, because the guard was disbanded for their loyalty, which was a major insult, the entire tribe revolted.) That’s a bit of an oversimplification of ancient history, but with the constant reminders we have in the series about the Germani’s loyalty, this ending just seems like a cheap move by Riordan. He might as well have had them all turn to dust one last time with the dissolution of the Triumvirate’s power. Also, if you even entertain the possibility that someone could step forward to take control of Triumvirate Holdings, I feel that the Germani would serve whoever that was.

On the purely practical side of things, please try to imagine thousands of (possibly illiterate) barbarians adjusting to modern life with zero help. I’m not saying it’s impossible, considering the amount of time they’ve been around (and how they seem to legally exist, as evidenced by Luguselwa being Meg’s legal guardian), but it’s still a stretch of the imagination with how Riordan characterized them throughout the series.

TL;DR

To wrap it up, you just can’t make villainy this pervasive, throw out some guesses as to how things will work out fine, and pretend the world can just move on. Triumvirate Holdings isn’t a snake that dies when you cut its head off; it’s a hydra. The life that almost everyone involved in Triumvirate Holdings lived makes them who they are. Not everyone will end up like Meg, especially considering the sheer number of people impacted. I know that all of this isn’t really Riordan’s concern, that he couldn’t have covered even half of this if he wanted to, but gods does it bother me.

#trials of apollo #toa #tower of nero #tower of nero spoilers #triumvirate holdings #long post #filodox!#I'm sorry for going off about this but I had to #I'm not trying to be cynical #I just really love Triumvirate Holdings #I'm the kid who won't let the company die #I'm suing CHB for property damage #I apologize for the quality of my writing btw #I gave up trying to edit bc I would never be happy with it

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carbrakes-and-stakes · 4 years

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Can we fix it? / Jared / Alain

When: Today Where: Jared’s farm What: Bob the builder, WC edition

Meddling with the radio, Alain grumbled as he struggle to find the station he usually listened to. Clearly, one of his mechanics must have been having fun with the truck’s radio. “Ugh,” turning it off, he rolled down the window and put his arm out against the door as he turned into a dirt driveway. It had not been raining, but Alain wondered how a dairy plant could come collect the milk on a road like that. Speaking off, he wasn’t seeing any cows around. Maybe this was some other kind of farm. He drove on the dirt road for about a mile before he saw the farmhouse at the end of the road. “Well, some people really like their privacy around here,” he should know, his house was also completely invisible from the main road. The place looked beautiful, and he was looking forward working in a nice setting like that. The mechanic came to an halt as he approached a closed gate. Seeing the man standing not so far from it, he raised his hand to salute him. Must have been the guy who called him for the tractor.

Inviting strangers to the farm wasn’t strictly a good idea, but Jared truly couldn’t do anything else at this point. The guys who’d dropped off his tractor had managed to barely get it onto the property. The nymph had been distracted trying to keep his kids away from sight to notice that the tractor had died rather than been turned off. There was no moving it from where it had been left and he needed it working again as soon as possible. He’d done his best to trap his most obvious kids in the farthest field from the house, he could glamour any that came too close as long as there weren’t too many of them. He raised a hand in return and grinned at the approaching rescue. “Hey! Appreciate you coming all the way out, I really can’t move it, not a clue what’s been done.” Jared called as he pushed the gates open for Alain to drive in.

Alain waited to have driven past the guy before he grimaced about what he had just been told. What’s been done? Sounded like Mr.Gordon had trusted the wrong people with his machinery. Not sure of what it was he would find, he stopped the garage’s truck a little bit further, stepping out and approaching the tractor by the barn. He tried to have a look and see what kind of animals were around, but not one of them was in sight, not even a shepherd’s dog. Well, it looked like he wouldn’t see any today. At least the scenery was nice around here, and the guy looked friendly enough. He put his tool box down, and climbed up into the cab to turn the tractor on, or at least try to, and hear the noises it made. Unfortunately, it made absolutely no noise. “Huh,” he scratched his temple and stepped out to have a look at the battery cables, check if the electrical ground was on the chassis, but both those things were okay. Not the battery. Probably the ignition, he thought to himself. “How old is the battery?” He turned to the farmer to ask his question, taking the gloves from his back pocket and putting them on.

The nymph followed along and leaned on the tire as the other climbed into the cab. Jared had experienced simple bad luck before, so he’d been holding out hopes that maybe someone else trying to turn it on would gain different results. But when the engine didn’t turn over at all he grimaced. “So the whole front end was done in recently. Joyrider took it for a spin and totalled the moose statue in town, you’ve probably seen it all messed up. I don’t know what’s been replaced and what hasn’t. I had a quick look and it looks like all the bits are there, but I couldn’t get it on at all. I’m really not a mechanic. If it hasn’t been replaced then it’s three years old. But considering the duff job I wouldn’t put it past the guys to have traded it in for something busted.”

“Huh,” pursing his lips, Alain had a look at the front of the tractor, which looked indeed, as good as new, on the exterior. He did remember reading about the moose statue and driving past it wondering which college kid was responsible for it. “Joyrider?” He repeated, an eyebrow raised. It would have been hard to tell whether he was amused or annoyed about this. As long as they didn’t raise everyone’s taxes to reimburse the damages done to the damn statue, he supposed that it was indifference that he felt. “Well, by the look of it, they did not remove anything,” however you could tell that someone had been touching at everything. The cables weren’t exactly sitting where they should have, and it was a lot messier than it should be. Nothing he couldn’t change, of course. Speaking of cables, he might have found something that needed to be moved immediately where it belonged. “Ah. The ignition is disconnected,” he explained, his hands vanishing for a moment in the tractor. “Alright,” can you try to turn the engine on? Considering how old the battery was, he’d probably have to recharge or replace it, but first, he wanted to see if the tractor started at all.

“Oh yeah, some teenager. We’ve hashed it out since then. She’s pretty nice, said she was hypnotised. But she came forward to me without me looking and wanted to make amends so I let her off the hook. She owes me like one pizza.” Jared explained with a shrug. He was pretty strapped for cash on a good day, but it hadn’t seemed fair to rope some kid into paying a lot of money for repairs. Especially since he couldn’t rule out it being his charge that had done the hypnotising. Having been given a job the nymph hauled himself up into the cab and settled in. “Clear.” he called out the open door with a laugh and turned the engine over. It gave a rumble, but it didn’t start. He turned the key a few more times, foot on the clutch but after it’s initial rumble it didn’t give him anything more. Popping his head back into the air Jared called down. “No dice, shoot, I hoped that was it.”

“I see.” Hypnotised. Right. It would have sounded like bullshit to many people in town, but Alain doubted that it was the case. Out of all the weird things that happened in town, a shady hypnotiser was not the weirdest thing you could come up with. “Huh uh. One pizza ? For wrecking your tools?” Well he would have almost felt bad for charging Regan thousands of dollars for the damage she had made. The mechanic scoffed at the young man’s joke, taking his hands off the battery to watch the Amperemeter. Right. “Alright, that thing’s dead. I’ll replace it, and we better hope that this is the end of your troubles,” after having replaced it, the mechanic would still take some time to check the rest, because clearly an amateur had been doing the repairs, and while sometimes the mess was due to lack of practice, it could sometimes be caused by straight incompetence. “I’ll be right back.” When Alain came back, he had a new battery in his hands, having left the old one by his truck. “Alright, we’re going to try that again. Ready?”

“I don’t know. Doesn’t seem fair to tag debt onto a kid. She said she was sorry so that’s fine. I thought at the time I was going to get a deal on the repairs… I was wrong, but that’s not her fault.” It was a half truth, an omission of the real reasoning he was going by, but the other didn’t need to know. Jared watched nervously as the mechanic left his side. He might have done his best to make the farm as normal as possible, he knew his hedgehounds were not bundled away, and Cap the Raiju was snoozing in the greenhouse. They were loose, but as long as he kept an eye on the stranger it would be okay. Turning the key the engine rumbled to life. The nymph let out a cheer. “Would you look at that!” He let the machine rumble for a moment, having it warm up before he poked his head back out. “Should I get her moving, check she’s running alright or would you say it’s safe enough?”

“Doesn’t seem fair to cause damage to a local farmer and get away with an I’m sorry,” he grumbled back. Alain was also in favor of giving people a chance, but when it came to property damage, the rule was simple. You break, you pay. Maybe it was the fact that he spent his time repairing broken things that made him this way. Who knew. “There we go, now turn it off please,” the last thing he wanted was to get burned by a warm engine. “I’m going to have a look at the rest to make sure it’s all good. Whoever “fixed” this,” he put the emphasis on that one verb, “was not a mechanic,” he didn’t say more, but you could tell from his tone that he was not pleased. “Next time you have something to fix, please do us a favor and visit someone legit,” he glanced up at Jared in the cab with a small smile. No hard feelings here, but they were both going to waste a bit of time on this nonsense, and Jared a bit of money too. Although technically, the money had been lost on the first repairs.

Jared shrugged. Saying anything more about Layla wouldn’t do him any good, he’d slip up somewhere and reveal too much. Best just agree to disagree. He did exactly as he was told and cringed as the mechanic explained that whatever ‘deal’ he thought he was getting was definitely not a good one. He had the shame to look a little bit guilty even when met with a smile from the other. “Guess being cheap really does not pay off.” He sighed forlornly. Hopping out from the cab back onto the ground Jared felt he should try and make it up to the man. Sure he was being paid for his help, but it was obvious he was frustrated by the mess that he had to work on. “Can I get you a drink or something Mr…?”

“I mean, cheap can be fine. I know a bunch of mechanics in training who work extra hours for cheap out of their apprenticeship,” his arm disappeared inside the tractor as he spoke, his eyes focused on what he was doing. “If you want to pay over the span of two months, or three, that can be done,” Alain didn’t see a problem with that, and was sure that Mr.Gordon would appreciate it. “Babineaux,” he nodded politely. It couldn’t take too long now. While Jared was gone, he turned the engine back home to spot any possible leaks, any cracks. He had his mechanic's stethoscope in hand when the farmer came back. He couldn’t hear anything suspicious, no rattling, scratching, or knocking. “I think she’s good to go,” he took off his gloves, putting them back in his back pocket, and turned to face him.

“I’m sure there are a ton of people better than the guys I got. This is what I get for always being online looking for deals.” Next time, Jared assured himself that he’d just spend the money. At first he’d been able to deal with doing things without the vehicle, but he’d have had it back a week ago if he’d just taken it to this guy. Oh, Jared was ready to be Mr Babineaux's most loyal customer. The nymph returned with his arms full of drink options. He had tins of soda, and a bottle of water, along with a hot cup of coffee. it was a lot to hold, but he was good at juggling. He was met with good news and bounced on the balls of his feet grinning from ear to ear. “That’s great news! I totally thought you’d be here all afternoon by the way those guys ran from the property once it shut down.”

“Well I’m not going to ever advise you to go for the cheapest,” especially when the price was really not reasonable for something that cost time and money. Alain’s brows furrowed as he saw his client come back with too many things in his hands. “Wow, that’s… impressive,” both the juggling and the desire not to upset him. He did not have the heart to tell him that lemonade would have been nice, and instead accepted the cup of coffee, figuring that it was the most urgent thing to take off his hands. “Thank you,” he sat down on the front wheel to start enjoying his coffee cup, laughing lightheartedly at Mr.Gordon’s glee. It felt good to see someone genuinely happy. This was not something you saw often, or that he saw often at least. “Glad I could help. I’ll email you the invoice in the afternoon, ok?”

As soon as the coffee was out of his hands Jared sacrificed the rest of the cans and bottles to the floor. He’d been unwilling to accidentally fizz any of the tins up before the mechanic had a chance to choose, but once that was out of the way jared was sure he’d remember he’d dropped them. The nymph patted the back wheel of his tractor and continued to smile broadly. “Do you take cash, bud? Just my bank account is really struggling recently, but I’ve had a real good run at the market with my flowers. Got more cash than anything else. Thanks for coming out by the way. I don’t think I have anyone around who could pull this thing into town for repairs, all I have are my horses to attempt it but that seemed a little unfair to them you know? They’ve done a lot when the tractor was gone for fixing the first time.”

Well now he was really happy he picked the coffee option. Alain looked down at the mess on the floor with wide eyes. Alright, so maybe Mr.Gordon was a bit weird. He sniffed at his cup of coffee discreetly, then took a sip. “I…” Well it did not matter much where the money came from, or how he was getting paid, as long as he was getting paid. “Sure, cash is fine,” the man had a look around, his brows furrowing as he thought he caught sight of something in a field. Even with his eyes, he couldn’t be too sure what it was he saw, but that didn’t look like something natural. He remained quiet and took note of that. He probably could tell Kaden or Nic about that later. There was no doubt that they’d be happy to check what this could be. “That doesn’t sound fair at all. These things are a lot heavier than they seem,” he agreed. Finishing his cup of coffee, he looked into the field once again, wondering if he had dreamt it. “What kind of cattle do you have here?”

Too caught up in the delight of his tractor FINALLY being returned to him fully fixed up after it’s tangle with the moose statue, Jared hadn’t noticed that one of his charges had wandered away from the rest of the herd and was coming into their eyeline. He was oblivious to the fact until the mechanic looked into the fields and asked him about his animals. He tried his hardest to act natural, and to keep his face smiling. But the shine in his eyes was gone and instead a light sweat formed on his forehead. “Oh all sorts. I prefer livestock to crop farming, Although I still do a little of both just to make the cash needed to feed my kids you know?” Not a lie, not technically a lie anyway. “I do a lot of rescue work actually, so a lot of my cattle aren’t dairy or anything. They’re just living a safer life out here.” And with that Jared rapidly dug in his pockets. “So what do I owe you for the first installment bud?”

“Heh,” he put down his coffee cup on the steps of the tractor. Not exactly what he expected as an answer. “So you sell meat then?” Since he was not selling dairy, and not relying on crops, meat had to be his main source of income, certainly. Alain might have not been a specialist when it came to farms, he knew enough to guess that this was probably it. Now what kind of meat he sold, he was curious. “Thanks,” he didn’t ask more questions, heading back to his truck to get the invoice book. “The battery is gonna cost you $120.15, labor cost…” he kept mumbling to himself for a while, before handing the invoice to the farmer.

He was being trapped in his lies and it made Jared shift on his feet uncomfortably. “Yeah I try to do it as ethically as I can, so little by little. Not going to lie bud, it’s hard so that’s why I thought getting a really cheap deal on the repairs would be a good idea.” His heart sank at the cost, and it was even worse when the invoice was passed his way. “It’s a good thing I bulk bought pasta from the store the other day huh?” He waved the mechanic off with a smile nonetheless. He’d done a good job, and Jared was ready to never take a short cut like he had again any time soon. It was a real mechanic or bust from now on.

#wickedswriting #chatzy #para #para jared #can we fix it ?

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sneksue · 4 years

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Official Post About Lifestyle Changes

The date is January 28, 2021.

I have not had chickens for a while. It will be 2 years in August. I have been meaning to write something here about all of it, but I either have not had time, or the willpower to go through with it. I was in grieving.

In June of 2019, I took a trip from my shared homestead in Mississippi to Colorado to do some long distance hiking. I left all of my animals in the care of my ex husband’s mother and her then boyfriend.

I trusted them to at least do the bare minimum in my animal’s basic care.

That didn’t happen. They failed night after night to close and lock the coop’s door. They wouldn’t change their water during the day and they did not collect eggs.

When I had service on my phone during the hike, I checked in with them to find out that because they had not closed or locked the coop door at night, several birds were “missing”, with more missing every day.

Instead of simply closing the door and providing a safe space for my dear, darling animals to sleep at night, they decided to buy a game camera to see what was happening to them at night.

Their reasoning had absolutely zero logic, and I was pretty pissed.

They found that raccoons were simply just waltzing into the coops and grabbing birds. The raccoons would drag them away into the woods and feast.

By the time our trip was almost over, all of my ducks were gone. There were only a few chickens left, and the guinea fowl were all intact due to roosting 50ft up in oak trees. My cat was also “missing”.

I was heartbroken, devastated. I had spent so much money, time, energy, and love to build this flock. I wanted to provide my “family” and myself with sustainable, renewable food in case of a natural disaster. No one seemed to value my efforts, or even care to see what my end goal was.

On top of grieving for the loss of my feathered babies, my then husband’s younger brother decided to GO OFF on me during our drive back to Mississippi. He claimed I was selfish, psychotic, uncaring, and manipulative. He screamed at me while we were all stuck in the car. He called me a bitch, he called me a liar, he called me a leech. I was stunned in silence. I had been struggling with my mental health for years, and had contemplated suicide more times than I could count. So, it is no surprise that while we were driving 70mph on the interstate, I seriously contemplated opening the car door and leaping out into traffic.

I turned to my husband, my partner, the love of my life, my support system, to back me up. Defend me. Tell his brother that he was wrong. My husband did nothing of the sort. He remained silent as the verbal barrage from his brother continued.

Everything clicked for me then. My mother in law was a complete nutcase, she blamed me for all of my husband’s shortcomings. She viewed me as a failure for not being the perfect housewife. She only saw me as a burden on her son’s happiness. My husband maintained an emotional distance from me for several years. He refused to be intimate towards me. He never showed an interest in me, my thoughts, my feelings. He never stood up for me or was proud to show me off. He never commended my strengths and triumphs, he only pointed out what he viewed were my failures. My brother in law was more of a nutcase than his mother, physically abusing his dog and neglecting his cat, leeching off of his mother and getting handouts at every possible opportunity, spending his days smoking hundreds of dollars of marijuana, drinking booze, playing videogames.

I had no social life, I wasn’t allowed to have a social life.

I had no friends I could hang out with, all of my friends were online.

No matter how much I did for these people and how much I excelled at everything I did, nothing was ever enough. I was never enough.

No wonder I struggled with mental health, eh?

I came to this realization instantaneously, and demanded to be dropped off at my dad’s house in Westminster, CO.

I had none of my personal belongings besides my hiking and camping stuff. I didn’t care, I just had to get away from these toxic monsters.

My husband and I loosely decided that this would be a “break” for our relationship, and that he would go back to MS to work and save up to move here with me. I agreed and I began working and saving up myself.

We both knew he was never going to come here. We were never going to be together again.

We remained in close contact for a few months after the separation. But the contact and our conversations became fewer and less substantial.

One night, as I was walking home from work, I called and told him that I thought we should break up. He admitted to me that he had removed his wedding ring over three weeks prior. I was understandably hurt by that, but I did understand.

He also informed me that all of the birds were gone or dead except for a couple roosters.

I was more devastated by the loss of my birds than the loss of my marriage. If that doesn’t tell you enough, I don’t know what does!!

My cat never returned.

I asked him if we could keep in contact, and he told me he did not want to talk to me or hear from me for several years. I was once again hurt by this, but with his own mental health issues, I again, understood. He did say he can see us being friends in the future, but now that its been some time, I don’t want to be friends with him. I want the best for him, but I can’t bring myself to expose my mentality to his toxicity and negativity.

I asked again and again, over a period of months, for him to return my belongings. He kept putting it off. I told him I was going to drive down there myself and gather everything i could and dispose of the rest.

He agreed, initially, then banned me from coming only after I requested the time off from work and had friends to accompany me on the journey, He promised he’d send all my stuff in several shipments after he sold my car. I told him he could keep the profit from the sale of my car and use it to send me my stuff.

He ended up sending me ONE box of my stuff. And most of it wasn’t even mine. I was appalled and disgusted that he’d be so careless and inconsiderate.

I sent him messages and requested SPECIFIC items after I received the first box. I got no reply, and no more packages to this day have been sent.

He and his family stole my property, killed my pets, and broke my heart.

Thieves, liars, and extremists, the lot of them.

I grieve daily for the loss of my animals and the torture I was put through for nearly 6 years.

All of that out of the way, let me move on to tell you what this blog will now feature.

I have obviously had a change in lifestyle. I no longer live on homesteading land, I live in a roomy two bedroom apartment with my AMAZING fiance.

My love of chickens, I discovered, was a love for reptiles in general. Cuz birds are reptiles and all that jazz.

When I met my fiance, I was already blown away by his attitude, confidence, and view on life right off the bat! He inspired me, made me want to be better to myself.

Meeting him felt weird, at first. It felt weird because I was waiting for this amazing person to... have a catch. There’s gotta be a red flag somewhere. And if there isn’t... he is probably a psychopath who will eventually turn on me and kill me. No one is that... good.

So I thought to myself, “Welp, gotta find out. I’ll go to his house!”

He had a couple little snakes in his room which I demanded to play with. He happily got them out and I was like “THAT’S the catch? Nah, this just convinces me this guy is... my kind of guy.”

I’ve had a love of snakes since early childhood. Not an interest of passion, but I truly loved interacting with and watching them. I’ve never had an innate fear of any insect, (exclude honeybee, because I didn’t know better at 6 years old), or animal. I love them all and everything they do to contribute. All they experience.

I used to catch wild garter snakes and rat snakes in nets, pet them, show them to my mother occasionally to freak her out, and release them. Then watch them.

There were a mating pair of Oteekee Corn Snakes in my HS yard. Every summer we’d see them, out and about hunting, hiding, climbing... growing. They were bright red and jet black with specks of yellow. I could tell these guys were pretty smart and maybe there was more to snakes than I really thought about ever.

So, being sold on this amazing guy, we up and moved in together. Nice. My paycheck kept going up and up. I was saving a ton. I wanted a car and an apartment as soon as possible.

I got bonus after bonus for working hard at my job and everyone hitting labor targets.

We got a place. Nice.

Both got steady jobs. Nice.

There’s uh, a lot of room in this new place. Nice.

Hey it’s my birthday and I can get myself a snake. I have more than enough for supplies and the animal itself.

I browsed on morphmarket for what felt like ages....

I had no idea that there were.... so many complicated genetics with ball pythons. I was highly interested, because if you know me, you know I’m interested in genetics and selective breeding.

I found there were THOUSANDS of genetic combinations, each with unique names. It was like alien code. The animals were beautiful but I had no idea what I was really looking at.

One night while going to our local reptile store to get feeder rats, I was looking around at all the glass window babies, as I usually do.

I made my way around the scorpions, tarantulas, cave scorpions, frogs, lizards, the store’s companion burmese python, and my eyes landed on a little... adorable puppy-eyed baby ball python. The signage stated that it was a Puma. Seemed simple enough. Easy name to remember. I looked into the glass at the lil noodle, and talked all baby talk and shit. The sweet little thing came right up to scope at me, then yawned.

I called an employee over and said I’d like to handle this animal right here. The employee obliged and I fell in love. Sexed as male. Easy buy.

I cried on the way home, It was amazing. I have one picture on here of him a few days after I got him. His name is Mallow, and he is bigger now, but still just as sweet.

So yeah. It went from there. Now, including the boa and ball python that are my fiance’s, and Mallow, we have added 3 more to our family. We are done now, as these animals may live a loooooong time. And they require space and attention just like any other pet. They’re not expensive, and they’re low maintenance care is nearly brainless if you set it up right. They’re statistically and actually safer than dogs or cats, and are absolutely therapeutic and entertaining.

This blog will from this day forward be dedicated to snake content, reptile content, and a lot more fun, actually good pictures. I will also share genetic related stuff I find relevant.

Not having a shitty phone camera is pretty great, tbh.

TLDR: No more homestead. Ex is evil (yeah yeah), New place new animal new me. SNAKES! SNAKES!!!! SNAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKEEEEESSSSS!

I know this post is just for me but whatever, if I make myself laugh. Cool. G’night.

#blog change #lifestyle change #reptile #personal #judge #don't read me #please don't read this #like its awful #seriously #my past #my present #i am good #all is well #i'm growing #chickens to reptiles #homestead to apartment

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kindashysorry · 4 years

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Blackout

Daverine Words: 2.4k Warnings: Swearing, and poor information on constellations and Roman mythology @the-games-changing

___

“How long has it been now?” Katherine asked, taking a sip from her watermelon Slurpee as Davey pushed her on the swings. Davey checked his watch, squinting in the dark, the watch hands barely visible. “Uh, almost half an hour, I think.” Kath almost choked on her drink.

“The power’s been down almost how long?” Davey took a sip from his own Slurpee and pushed her again. “Is that an ‘it feels longer than that’, or an ‘it feels shorter than that’ holy shit?”

“A bit of both.”

The two of them had been at home when the power went out, interrupting their nightly routine, and when it didn’t come back on after a few minutes, Kath knew exactly what to do to make the blackout a little more fun. After a little convincing (and one big dose of puppy-dog eyes), Davey and Kath hopped on the back of Davey’s motorbike and drove off to the park with a small hill on it, a few streets away. Stopping by briefly to grab their Slurpees from Elmer, who had taken it as his third job to support himself and his sisters. “Y’know some guy came in here like two hours ago and threw up in the middle of the store then just walked out. Who does that!?” Elmer complained as he used the torch on his phone to light up the Slurpee machine where Kath and Davey were filling up their cups. Kath had slid him a ten-dollar note, clicking her tongue in sympathy. “People are just like that sometimes. Sorry you had to deal with that, bud.” Elmer shrugged,

“Pays the bills, it’s nothing I can’t deal with.” Katherine and Davey had left after exchanging goodbye’s with Elmer and crossed the road to the park, where they were now sat.

Davey had wandered over to a semi-flat piece of ground and lay down on his back as Kath continued to swing, lost in her own thoughts. Davey called out to her, and she looked up to see him waving her over. She jumped off the swing and made her way over to him, getting comfortable on the grass next to him. She rested her head on Davey’s chest as they looked up at the night sky, the stars looked so much brighter without the glow from the streetlamps, the burning pinpoints of light like small diamond dust twinkling down on them. “You like stars, right?” Davey asked, playing with Katherine’s hair. She shrugged with a smile and a small incline of her head. “My father made me take an astronomy class when I was younger, I thought I’d hate it but,” she shrugged. “I guess I was wrong. I‘ve always really liked stars since then.” She sighed, trying to get more comfortable in the grass, looking into the sky “I mean, they’re so big and have so much going on up close, but all we see are pretty lights a million light-years away. We only get to see the tiniest snippet of them, y’know? So many people look up and love the stars, they think of them as warm balls of comfort that could do no wrong. But the stars can be cold and cruel, a side people don’t often see. They can be cold, and cruel, and no matter how much you love them, the stars never love you back.” Kath sighed again and Davey grabbed her hand, rubbing small circles on the back of it with his hand. She looked over and gave him a small smile, though her eyes betrayed her slight embarrassment at her rambling. He squeezed her hand comfortingly and the pair fell into a comfortable silence. They watched the night sky move slowly by them, an occasional wispy cloud drifting in front of their vision, to which Davey would try and find animals or objects, which Kath could never decipher. The two of them stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms for a few more minutes, Katherine tracing small patterns on Davey’s side as Davey braided the small section of her hair he was playing with earlier. Kath took a deep breath in and stretched, heaving herself to her feet and snatching her empty cup off the ground. “Have you finished yours?” Davey nodded and placed his cup in her outstretched hand. She gave him a small smile and motioned to the bin at the bottom of the hill. “I’ll be right back.” She said and began to walk down the hill. Davey watched her leave, smiling to himself. Despite the cold night air, he felt warm. A nice warm, that made him feel nice and cosy, one that started in his chest and spread through his body with each beat of his heart and every moment he spent with her. With Kath, he felt safe, he felt grounded. He felt safe and grounded, and warm. Davey lay back in the grass, closing his eyes, smiling softly as he let the warmth wash over him.

___

“Okay, you’re for sure making these up now!” Katherine laughed into Davey’s shoulder.

“I’m not! That’s a real constellation! Look,” she re-traced the pattern of stars, connecting each glimmering dot to the next with her finger. “That one there is Cygnus, ‘cause it looks like a swan, see?” Davey didn’t see, but nodded along, engaged anyway. “You can find it easier if you look for the really bright star at the end of its tail, called Deneb.” That, Davey could see. “Then follow it up to the head, Albireo, which is actually a double star but the name is used specifically for the brighter one, and then you can see the two wings below it.” He was lost again. Davey squinted into the sky, trying to follow Kath’s finger, but to no avail, he sighed. “I’m fairly certain I know where the Big Dipper is, but that’s it.” He scanned the sky, before reaching up and tracing the shape in the sky. Katherine smiled. “Close,” she said. “But you’re off by one.” She reached up and gently took hold of Davey’s wrist, sticking her tongue out slightly as she drew the constellation, deep in concentration. “You missed Alkaid, the very last one at the end.” She dropped her hand and Davey swore lightly under his breath. “I thought it felt shorter than usual.” He put his hand down as well. “Show me another one?” Katherine smiled giddily, her eyes lighting up.

“Okay!” she bit her lip, pausing for a second to search the sky, more clouds swirled overhead, blocking out patches of stars. She searched for a few more seconds, then put her hand back up and outlined another group of stars. “That’s Draco, the eighth largest constellation in the sky!” a large grin spread across her face. “Draco has a load of deep-sky objects, like the Cat’s Eye Nebula, that’s 3000 light-years away! There’s also a handful of galaxies and galaxy clusters like-” She cut herself off, heat rising in her cheeks as she twisted the hem of her shirt self-consciously between her fingers. “Sorry, I’m rambling again.” She mumbled quietly. Davey grabbed hold of her hand, intertwining their fingers, squeezing her hand lightly. “No, I love hearing you talk about stars! You’re so passionate and I love listening to you talk about your interests.” He moved their hands up and placed a gentle kiss on the back of her palm. “Can you show me another? If you want?” Kath’s cheeks turned redder, a slight smile playing at the edges of her mouth. “Thanks.” She said quietly, before mentally dusting herself off, clearing her throat and sweeping the sky for another constellation. More clouds had formed, cutting down the sky by another portion. With a small sound of realisation, she landed on a small batch of stars that were grouped near the others that had previously been pointed out. “Hercules,” the smile grew a little wider. “It’s made up of fifteen stars,” she drew invisible lines connecting each pinprick of light. “But there’s something like three thousand, three hundred and eighty-one, though we can only see a hundred and thirty-five with the naked eye. He’s a pretty cool constellation, but,” Katherine pointed back up to Draco. “He killed Draco to get the apples he was guarding, which I think was pretty rude of him. He could’ve at least tried restraining him or something! Like he didn’t even look at Draco or anything, just threw a spear at him and was like ‘okay, he’s dead now, let’s get those apples!’ like how impolite can you be, y’know?” Davey chuckled quietly and wrapped Kath up tighter in his arms. “He didn’t even say ‘hi’ to Draco?” he asked.

“No!”

“Shame on him!”

“Yeah!” Katherine cheered. “Shame on him!” she giggled and nestled up against his chest, resting her head on his arm. She sighed contentedly and turned her head to face him. “You wanna show me one now?”

“But I don’t know any constellations.” Davey protested. Kath shrugged.

“So make some up.” He hummed as he examined the night sky, only a small patch of stars visible in the cloud-cover. He tilted his head slightly, looking for shapes in the sky. “That,” he said, connecting a vague heart in the stars. “Is Katherine. He pointed at two bright stars sitting next to each other near the top of the heart. “Those two stars are an easy way to find it.” Davey broke off, pausing as he thought of what he was going to say next, hoping it didn’t sound as awkward as he thought. “Katherine was a kind-hearted girl who lived in a small town. But she was exceptionally beautiful.” Kath propped herself up on her elbow, smirking slightly as he continued. “So beautiful in fact, that Venus herself became jealous. She seethed away in her resentment for years, until one day she had enough and flung Katherine into the sky, imprisoning her in the stars so that Venus had no other competition.” Davey finished with one final trace of the heart, though he knew the shape had changed since the first time he drew it, clouds covering half of it. “That,” Katherine said after a pause. “Was probably the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard.” She smiled cheekily.

“Shut up,” Davey replied with a roll of his eyes and a smile of his own, feeling his cheeks begin to burn hot. Kath laughed, grabbing hold of his hand. “I’m sorry Davey,” she shivered slightly and tucked herself further into his warm body. “It was sweet. So sweet in fact, I think I might throw up!” She chuckled again, and Davey buried his face in the top of Katherine’s hair, groaning in embarrassment. “You know I’m not good at the romantic talk stuff.” Kath smiled and pressed her lips against his neck, their heads fitting together like puzzle pieces. “Aww, you know I’m just messing with you, right?” her eyelashes brushed against his jawline as she waited for a response. “Right?” she said again after a few seconds, moving away from his neck, and into a sitting position, as her nerves grew. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt or offend her boyfriend. ”Yeah, yeah, I know.” Davey answered, sounding vaguely sarcastic, and Kath cursed herself internally.

“Because I was! I mean, that was really sweet!” She stammered quickly. “Like not only was it nice, you created that snippet of story in a heartbeat! And it was wonderful!” Davey sat up as well, gently taking hold of her arms. “Kathy, It’s okay!” Katherine pushed her hands up against her cheeks.

“Ah! No, I didn’t mean to sound rude, oh gosh, now I feel bad! I’m so sorry!” Katherine was still talking at a hundred miles an hour, Davey could hardly get a word in edge-wise “Kath, Kath, I swear it’s okay. It was cheesy.”

“No, no it wasn’t! But even if it was, I love cheesy!”

“Kathy, it’s fine! Do-”

“I love cheesy! Cheesy is great! I-” Davey tugged her gently forward into his lap, pressing his lips to hers, silencing her panicking with a kiss. He could still taste the faint watermelon flavour from her Slurpee lingering on her lips as he deepened the kiss. After a few seconds, the two broke apart, both of them big, blushing messes. They rested their foreheads against each other, breathless. Katherine slid her hand into Davey’s, her breathing slowly returning to normal. She lay her head against his shoulder still bathing in the silence. “Blueberry was always my second favourite flavour.” She said, laughing quietly into his shirt. Davey chuckled too, “Yeah? Well, I think I need to try watermelon next time.” They sat there in a warm, comfortable silence, absorbing the marvellous feeling of just being with each other. Thunder rumbled overhead and a cold droplet of water splashed down onto Davey’s forehead, making him yelp in surprise. Katherine laughed, tilting her head back in amusement until another drop landed in her eye, and with another boom of thunder, the sky opened up and the heavens rained down upon them. Each drop that fell looked like a shooting star, and Kath and Davey laughed again, their cheeks beginning to return to their usual colours. Davey helped Kath to her feet, then reached behind him and slid his jacket off of his arms, holding it up over both of their heads to shield them from the rain. The two of them ran down the hill, one hand holding up Davey’s jacket and the other interlaced together, trying not to slip in the wet grass as they made their way back to Davey’s Motorbike. By the time they arrived at the bike, the rain had gotten heavier, and despite their jacket protection, the two of them were drenched. “Do you think the powers back on yet?” Katherine asked through chattering teeth.

“I dunno, guess we’ll see when we get back.” Davey handed her helmet over and tied his soggy jacket around his waist. Katherine looked at her helmet and paused, waiting for Davey to finish with his jacket. “Are you alright to go?” he looked up as Kath grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down into another kiss. They leaned against the bike, bodies pressed together as the rain-soaked through their skin. Kath pulled away, leaving Davey stunned, and jumped on the back of the bike, patting the spot in front of her. “You coming?” a smirk carved its way across Davey’s face as he hopped on, feeling Kath’s arms wrap around his waist. “Hold on.” He said though he knew she didn’t need to be reminded and kicked the stand back before taking off down the road, Kath giggling into his back as they drove home.

___

#asdfghjgf #i hope this is okay #its 3:14 am and my eyes are going all spotty lol #i feel like it lowkey got progressively worse as it went on but #://#i have a part 2 in the works if youre interested in it #dont feel pressured tho lol #aahh my brain broken imma shut up and go to sleep now #katherine plumber #katherine pulitzer #davey jacobs #daverine #davey x katherine #davey/kath #newsies

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The Contract :: CS Omegaverse :: Ch 3

Title: The Contract Rating: E Summary: Emma had never wanted much in her life, despite being married to one of the richest men in the world. For ten years she has felt like a prisoner in her own marriage, denied the one thing she wants the most, but her husband cannot help but bargain her want like a cheap business deal. Enter Killian Jones, the Alpha her husband has hired to make sure she gets what she wants. And then some. A/N: Here comes the smut!

This is an Omegaverse fic featuring A/B/O dynamics. Whilst this varies from fandom to fandom, for the purposes of my fic, there will be no mpreg. Just so you know. There will however be knotting, breeding, heats and other delicious things that come along with A/B/O. If you do not know what A/B/O is, feel free to message me :) Many thanks to @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @darkcolinodonorgasm @resident-of-storybrooke and @effulgentcolors for letting me bounce my complicated ideas of you lol

If you wish to stay away from this fic, blacklist the A/B/O tag.

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Killian hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Graham Humbert’s wife since the moment they had parted ways. He felt for her. It was as simple as that. He could see she was unhappy, even by the way she forced a smile onto her pretty face, and he had spent all night reminding himself that she was not his concern. She was simply a job. He was being paid a very large amount to make her happy, and somewhere in his stupid Alpha brain, he had deduced that she would only be happy with him.

Killian shook his head, banishing the thought from his mind. His feet pounded the canvas of the treadmill, pin like pain shooting through his calf muscles with every step, arms stiff and bent at the elbow to help balance his movements. The shirt he was wearing was skin tight, a patch of sweat showing down the middle of his back and around the neckline, and his usually tidy hair was a sopping wet mess that stuck to his forehead. Running at the gym was how Killian was trying to punish his mind, maybe get so hot his brain would boil itself alive and realise that Emma was unattainable.

And it wasn’t like she was anything special. Emma was a Beta, just like Graham, so why, after touching only her hand, was Killian so invested in her? There was no explanation, no rhyme or reason really, just a feeling. Killian trusted his instincts more than most and was attuned to the emotions of others. It was why he used toys and didn’t simply fuck anyone he could during a rut. He’d had a girlfriend once, a Beta, but it hadn’t worked out. It didn’t take him long to realise that he was simply a trophy to her, something to show off to her friends, and maybe that was why he felt so connected to Emma, both of them being used at the hands of the one person who should have loved them.

His thought process was interrupted by the waving hand of Will Scarlett and with a few presses of a button, the treadmill began to slow, Killian dropping into a brisk walk before finally stopping altogether. He frowned at his friend, giving him a questioning look as he pulled the earbuds from his ears and his lungs burned with every breath he took.

“Finally,” Will sighed dramatically.

“What?” Killian barked, a little irritated that the vision of Emma on his mind was now replaced by his friend.

“Oh, nothing,” Will sassed, leaning on the control panel of the treadmill. “I’ve only been trying to get your attention for like five minutes.” Killian’s blank stare caused him to roll his eyes. “You said you wanted me to spot for you?”

“Aye, I did,” Killian agreed, suddenly remembering. He stepped off the treadmill on shaky legs and Will handed him his gym towel. “Cheers, mate,” he huffed, still trying to catch his breath as he wiped the dry towel over his face and down his neck.

“Where are you today?” Will asked, concern lacing his words. He held out a bottle of water for Killian too and his friend took it gladly.

“I’m sorry?” Killian gasped, twisting the cap of the water bottle open and guzzling down the entire thing.

“Your mind is elsewhere,” Will noted.

“Is it?” Killian arched a brow innocently.

“Clearly.” Will gave his friend a glance, one Killian had seen many times growing up, and it meant Will could see right through him like he was invisible. Sometimes Killian wondered how Will did it, because he was the only other person, besides Liam, who could tell exactly what he was thinking about.

“It’s nothing,” Killian lied, pretending to look in his gym bag for something.

“Don’t bullshit me, Jones. I know when you are lying,” Will said sternly. “Is it work? Oh!” Will exclaimed a little too loudly, causing half the gym to turn and look at them. “Is it the wife?”

Killian’s cheeks flushed hot and he was thankful for the humidity of the gym to hide his crimson cheeks. “No. Why would it be the wife?”

“Well, have you, you know, fucked her yet?” The gleeful smirk on Will’s face made Killian roll his eyes under the fresh towel that was busy drying up more excess sweat.

“It’s confidential,” Killian said gruffly.

“That means yes then,” Will grinned.

“No,” Killian told him firmly, grabbing his bag and heading across the floor to where the weights were. Will trotted along beside him like an obedient dog eager for a morsel of more gossip. “It means I cannot talk about it or I will not get paid.”

Will craned his neck, eyes widening with shock. “Who is your,-”

“Will,” Killian implored, stopping dead and causing Will to bump into him.

“Alright!” Will huffed, shaking his head and holding his hands up defencelessly. “But have you?” He grinned impishly.

“No!” Killian yelled, again causing the whole gym to turn and look at them. “Listen, I went to the house for a meet and greet and we have a session planned later this week.”

Killian tossed his bag on the floor beside the bench, swinging one leg over in to sit on the padded red leather. Will frowned, and Killian could see the workings of his brain ticking over. He opened his mouth to say something but then closed it quickly. Killian settled back, lying on the bench and looking up to his friend over the weight bar.

“Look, I would like to tell you, I really would, but I need the money.” Killian looked down with a sigh and planted his hands firmly on the ridged grip of the bar. His own words shocked even him, and he shook his head. “I need the money, Will.”

“Alright,” his friend said gently. “But you can tell me how much you are getting paid, right? Just say a number.” Will took up place at Killian’s head, gripping the bar and lifting it when Killian gave him the nod.

Technically, Killian could. Graham had never specified, in words or in his stupid contract, that Killian could not disclose his payment amount to anyone. “Twelve,” Killian said through a breath, his voice almost a struggle when the weight of the bar tested the resolve of his elbows.

“Hundred?” Will asked with an almost impressed look in his eye. “My first client was only five-,”

“Thousand,” Killian interrupted quickly, through clenched teeth.

“Twelve thousand dollars?!” Will squeaked, letting go of the bar and sending it crashing into Killian’s chest. He let out a groan, knees hiking up instinctively to try and protect his body from the blow, but all it did was expel air that Killian desperately needed. “Twelve. Thousand. Dollars,” Will repeated slowly, in shock.

“Aye,” Killian nodded, pained by the impact. “Will-,” he began through gritted teeth, his face turning red, but Will carried on his daydream monologue.

“For your first client?” Will asked for clarification.

“Aye,” Killian grumbled again, his wrists beginning to hurt from his exertions. “Will-,” Killian grunted, back arching to try and relieve some of the weight across his chest. “Can you just-”

“Oh shit!” Will scrambled for the bar, Killian turning blue in front of him. He pulled hard, the tearing sensation in his biceps ignored until he heard the metallic sound of the bar hitting the rack. Will raced around the bench, reaching for Killian’s hand and pulling his friend until he was sitting upright again. “Mate, are you alright?” Will fussed, patting Killian on the back as he coughed.

Killian waved him off with a few flicks of his hand, taking a huge breath and blinking to try and focus the red spots in his eyes. He coughed a few times, his whole body burning up from the panic, Will diligently rubbing a cool pack over his neck with worry.

“Say something,” Will begged.

“You’re a terrible spotter,” Killian croaked, clutching his throat.

“I’m sorry, it’s just-,” Will paused, sitting down on the end of the bench with a heaviness in his limbs. “Twelve grand, are you sure?”

Killian nodded, the whites of his eyes stinging from how hard he had been gasping for air. His hand slid from his throat down to his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt over his heart as he leaned forward and ground his teeth through the pain. Killian was sure, even with a little massage, he would feel the bar pressed into his chest for a few weeks yet.

“And she’s beautiful.” The words left Killian’s mouth before he had time to stop them, holding his breath for Will’s reply. There was a silence and when Killian looked up to meet Will’s gaze, he saw real concern on his friends face. “What?” He asked innocently, flicking his gaze down to the bench between them.

“You can’t think like that,” Will told him. “They are just clients, Killian, not dates. Not to mention, yours is clearly married to some rich guy who would end you, Alpha or not.”

“He could try,” Killian smirked.

“Seriously, mate,” Will began, cocking his head to the side. “These things never end well.”

“Calm down,” Killian told him with a nervous laugh. “I’m not going to fall in love with some Beta because I put my dick in her for money.”

“Good,” Will said with a nod, although he wasn’t entirely convinced himself.

It wasn’t like Killian to be nervous, but he really did think the occasion called for it. Tonight was his first night with Graham’s wife, and with the Beta out of town on business, he was a little less stressed. But he couldn’t help the way his body reacted to the mere thought of her. Emma. What a beautiful name, for a stunning beauty of a woman. Ever since she had walked through the door to Humbert’s den a few nights ago he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind.

The hue of her skin and the way it radiated in the dim lighting of the room was all he could think about. When she had taken his hand, her fingers were so soft and warm they had sent a jolt of electricity up his arm and made every hair on the back of his neck stand on end. She had been dressed in a white frock, something he was sure Graham made her wear to appear as pure as possible by his side, but Killian could tell by the glint in her eye that she had more sinful tastes.

He wasn’t sure how long he had stood at the door, the cool night air making him shiver as he stared down at the address scrawled onto the piece of paper in his hand. She had written the address to her apartment down for him during the meeting, her fingers grazing his and making the hairs on his forearm spring into alertness. Maybe the shiver down his spine wasn’t from the cold after all. Maybe it was her.

Killian took a breath, steadying himself. How had he become such a soft Alpha? What had Will said? Just think of the prettiest lass you have ever seen. Killian’s only problem was his client was the prettiest woman he had ever seen and if there was any justice in his life, when he lifted his hand and tapped his knuckles on the door, she wouldn’t answer.

The apartment complex was very executive and Killian expected nothing less from Humbert. He would want to make sure Emma was comfortable too, especially for what he had been commissioned to do, but there would be no way on earth he could afford somewhere like this. The walls were freshly painted, the tarnish lingering on his tongue as he inhaled, and every door was identically made of the huge, hardwood he was standing in front of. He knew he was in the right place, not only because of the address in his hand, but because of her scent.

Even as a Beta, Emma had a fantastic smell about her. It was fresh, and floral, like the newly sprung grasses of Spring mixed with the sweetest scent of a rose in bloom. Like a bee he was drawn to her for one thing, and one thing only, rutting and breeding, inexplicably. In the entire history of the world, no Alpha has ever been so obsessed with a Beta.

Until now.

Clearing his throat he finally found the courage to lift his arm and with three gentle taps, he knocked on the door.

His wait felt like forever, hands balling at his sides as he bobbed up and down on the balls of his feet, but he was soon rewarded with her scent, strong and intoxicating as she opened the door. She was even more lovely than the first time he had seen her, her hair pulled back into a bun that highlighted the curve of her skull and accented the elegance of her neck. Long, slender, with skin that practically called out to him, her scent was intoxicating, radiating from where her scent gland would be if she were anything but a Beta.

Killian was sure his mind was playing tricks on him, especially when she shifted onto one smooth leg, leaned her weight against the door jamb and gave him a smile.

“Hey,” she said smoothly, her face lighting up at the sight of him.

“Mrs. Humbert,” he almost coughed, struggling to keep his cool as he fiddled with the palms of his hands with his fingernails.

“Please,” she scoffed. “Mrs. Humbert is my bitch of a mother-in-law.”

“Emma then.” He gave her a smile that was asking her permission, even though the smile she returned told him that he needn’t have asked.

With a nudge of her head she was inviting him in and inexplicably he followed more obedient than any Alpha should. She was wearing an oversized shirt and not much else, something he had failed to realise at first, his brain finally catching up to him as she sashayed back into the apartment.

That in itself surprised Killian. He was sure it would have been another one of Mr. Humbert’s attempts at appearing Alpha, seeing as the man was paying for it after all, but it wasn’t what he had expected. The single room was vast, a clear reflection of wealth, but in no way anything other than exactly what Emma had made it. A huge bed, covered by a duvet as thick as the mattress it rested upon drew his eye, and he didn’t know why, but the white, virginal sheets called to his inner lust as he imagined Emma spread out naked on them.

For him.

Urges he shouldn’t have had around a Beta, but urges he would let slide for someone so beautiful.

“So how does this work?” She called back to him as she pulled a bobby pin from her bun.

"Surely your husband filled you in on the details," Killian smirked, watching her hair tumble over her shoulders when she pulled out a few more of the metallic pins on her way to the bed.

"My husband?" Emma balked a laugh. "The man who is paying you such a grand sum to get a job done he fails at so horribly?" Emma shook her head, loosening the last few curls so that they joined the cascade currently adorning her shoulders and framing her pretty face. "Don't make me laugh."

"He told me that you wanted an Alpha," Killian said quickly, his nostrils flaring at the mere thought of the disgusting man. He followed her some more feeling the pull of a beautiful woman for the first time in his life.

"Yes," Emma nodded, turning to face him. "I described a very specific Alpha and would you believe he found everything, even down to the accent. Wouldn't you call that fate, Mr. Jones?"

Killian fixed her with a stare but she did not look away. There were not many people in an Alpha's life who didn't divert their gaze and he felt his lips tick up at the corners.

"Call me Killian," he almost growled. His fingers moved to the button on his jacket, popping the single button through its hole and a gleeful smile erupting on his face at the way her eyes moved to focus on his hands.

Emma took a step towards him and reached out, smoothing her long, lithe fingers over his shirt clad chest. He had worn the white one, mindful that his thick chest hair would be seen underneath, something he knew drove most women wild, regardless of classification, and when Emma scrunched her fingers and clawed lightly over the crisp white material, Killian felt the electric shock of arousal harden his nipples instantly.

“Okay then, Killian,” Emma purred, arching her body into his. “What were your instructions?”

A laugh rumbled from deep in his throat at her question, mainly from her brashness but also from the way she was unbuttoning his shirt so adeptly.

“To fuck you and make you feel good, I believe is what your husband said,” Killian said lowly, his words crushed in his throat from where he was craning his neck to watch her undress him. When all of his buttons were undone, he could smell her arousal, a fresh womanly scent hitting him the second she laid eyes on the contours of his body.

“Oh, then who are we to deny him?” Emma quirked an eyebrow at him, finally able to tear her eyes away from where her hands were roaming his torso. Thick, black chest hair tickled her fingertips with every stroke, softer than she had first thought but just as luxurious as she had imagined from the tiny bits poking out from his shirt collar. “Are all Alphas like this?” Emma wondered aloud.

“Like what, love?” Killian said softly, letting her explore his exposed chest some more. “Hairy? Muscular?”

“Powerful,” Emma sighed and lifted her head to meet his gaze. “The things you could do to me,” she breathed, pawing at his biceps.

Killian smirked, letting her hands roam some more. When she traced the edges of his ribs he had to refrain from laughing, her soft, light touches like a fine spider web across his skin, but she must have noticed the faintest twitch of a smile on his face because she snaked her hands up behind his neck and threaded her fingers into his hair.

“Is it true?” Emma asked with a pink tinge to her cheeks. She cast her eyes downwards between their bodies, leaning back and rubbing his groin with her body.

She meant his size, Killian knew that. Every Beta woman was the same, fascinated with the anatomy of an Alpha, the fabled larger attributes something many of them would swoon over. Killian had used it to sleep with women in the past, he wouldn’t deny that. When he was in his teens and had come into puberty, sometimes using the largest asset he had was all he could do to satisfy his needs.

“Aye,” he whispered in a choked voice.

“Will you kiss me?” Emma asked innocently, nudging the underside of his jaw. “Did my husband allow that in his stupid contract?”

Killian gave her a questioning look. “You know about that?”

Emma laughed and rolled her body away from his and took a few steps back towards the bed. “Everything is business to him, Killian. Even me. My whole marriage is a fucking contract.”

Killian wasn’t exactly sure what Emma meant, but he was sure if Humbert was involved it was nothing good. The man, a lowly Beta with the pretense to be Alpha, used and abused everyone in his life and Killian had no doubt that his wife was on the very top of that list. Every picture of her had a fake smile and for some reason he couldn’t explain, Killian wanted nothing more than to see the real smile he knew she possessed.

Emma was busy running her fingers through her hair so she didn’t notice Killian divest himself of his shirt, unbuckle his pants and kick off his shoes. She turned, just as his pants hit the floor under the weight of his belt and in one fluid movement, he had stepped from them and closed the gap between them. She had no time to object when Killian cupped her face in his hands and crushed his lips to hers.

Neither of them moved for what felt like the longest time, and Killian had to hold her up when she went limp in his arms. Her lips were so soft to him, almost too smooth to be true, and he felt them quiver a little under his kiss. Then he felt her smile against his lips, and it was pure and chaste, the first sign he was given that told him that she was exactly what he thought she was - perfect.

“You’re naked,” Emma said in a daze, her eyes fluttering open when their lips parted.

“I am,” Killian beamed back at her. His forehead rested against hers and he smiled boyishly, brushing his thumb over the corner of her mouth. “And now,” Killian said smoothly as he unbuttoned her shirt, pushing it over her shoulders and letting the cotton fall to the floor behind her. She had little time to say anything before he dropped to his knees and tugging her underwear down her legs, brushing his nose over her inner knee, pecking her skin as he rose. He took a moment, his breath hitching in his throat as he looked her over, her smell ten times more intoxicating now that she was fully exposed to him. "So are you,” he whispered huskily.

“I’ve never done this before,” Emma told him shyly, dropping her gaze to the floor.

“Neither have I, love.” Killian tucked a crooked finger under her chin and offered her a reassuring smile as he tilted her head back up.

“You haven’t?” Emma frowned, teasing him with a smirk.

“You’re my first,” Killian assured her.

A small chuckle rumbled from Emma’s throat. She knew he had probably had sex before, so he didn’t mean it like that. Did he? Emma looked down, unable to stop herself gasping at the size of him when that came into her view. He was big and she bit her lip. “Will it hurt?”

Killian raised an eyebrow and sucked in a laugh. His hands found her hips and he pulled her tighter to him, relishing in the way he felt her skin bobble with goosebumps under his touch, his fingertips skimming around until he found the swell of her ass. Her skin was firm and plump at the same time and her body reacted to his touch instantly as her nipples hardened against his chest.

“Only if you want it to,” he smirked salaciously.

The way her cheeks turned red despite all of her previous bravado made Killian hard. Actually fucking hard. He had been hard for a Beta before, but he was normally in rut, so ready to fuck anything that moved, but somehow this was different. She was different.

“You know what? Screw your husband,” Killian announced. He pressed his hand to the small of her back and pulled her to him even harder, his length hot and pulsing against her skin. He felt her gasp, her fingernails digging into his shoulders and her eyes searching his in question. “What would make you happy?”

For a second Emma was silent and still in his arms, her face in shock of the question he had posed her. No one had ever asked her what she had wanted before. In her life, it was a foreign concept to be given a choice, especially in the Humbert household, and a sudden thrill shot through her bones at the mere thought of answering him. What did she want? Why had she asked for this? She knew he had meant from right now, but it didn’t stop her wishing her life was different. Her thoughts were interrupted when Killian brushed his knuckles over her cheek, rousing her from her reverie.

“I just want to be fucked by an Alpha,” Emma smiled up at him and licked her lips.

Killian could tell she had forced her smile but it wasn’t his place to question it. He licked his lips, imagining the taste of her on his tongue, and his cock bobbed against his stomach. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, dragging the back of his fingernails over her shoulders and down over her collarbone as he deliberated what he was going to do to her. “First we have to get you nice and wet,” he growled.

Killian grabbed her by the shoulders, hard enough to mean business but not enough to hurt, and spun her around. Emma let out a squeak of exhilaration and stiffened in his arms when he wrapped them around her, slipping a hand down over her stomach and cupping her mound. Killian pushed a single finger through her silky folds, absently wondering if she had shaved just for him, and Emma jumped up onto her toes at the welcome intrusion.

“Oh, my love,” Killian purred against the back of her ear, his scruff tickling at her neck as he spoke and setting all her hair standing on end when he smiled against her skin. His finger slipped along her folds but as wet as she was, he knew it wouldn’t be enough to accommodate him comfortably. “This just won’t do.”

Emma sighed, his fingers working through her folds and rubbing her clit. It was so hard, almost painfully stimulated, something Emma had never experienced before but already loved. It was torturously wonderful and her hips canted against his hand, her teeth leaving imprints in her lip as she let her head fall back onto his shoulder.

“Mmmm,” she hummed contently, riding his hand. Emma lifted her arm and clutched at his hair, holding his head to her neck when his lips went to work on the patch of skin above her quickening pulse.

“You like that, don’t you?” Killian mumbled against her neck, nipping at the skin there. Emma’s entire body told him what he already knew and her slow, shaky nod confirmed it. “You know the best way to get you wet, love?” Killian whispered into her ear, his tongue licking at her ear lobe and his cock rutting into the crease of her ass to ease his own growing tension.

“What?” Emma moned, her words hushed by her breathlessness.

“An orgasm,” Killian ground out darkly.

“Oh my-,” Emma gasped at his words, his tone demanding yet caring and like music to her soul. “Fuck.”

“You think you can do that for me, Emma?” Killian grinned and stretched his body upright once more, letting his length press even harder into her flesh and nudging her forward towards the bed. Instinctively Emma leaned forward, clawing at the bedclothes as she climbed on top of the comforter with Killian hot on her heels. He positioned himself behind her and his legs trapped hers together, his knees on the outside of hers and sinking into the plush, white duvet.

Killian smirked when she presented, wiggling her ass at him as if she were a good Omega, and drunk on the scent of her, he had to remind himself of her classification, confused for a second, blinking long and hard to right his thoughts of getting the job done. He was being paid, after all, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t enjoy himself while he made her feel good. He shuffled forward until there was no room between them anymore and positioned his length between her folds, thrusting his hips forward slowly and deliberately, her juices coating his cock and teasing her clit.

He hadn’t even got close to penetrating her yet and Emma was whimpering at his touch, mewling like a kitten every time he rubbed her with his length, rubbed her just the right way. It felt incredible, like her insides were trying to claw their way out and get to what she wanted the most, what she needed the most. Emma didn’t care how she got there, she just knew that she had to, and somehow with Killian, the big, strong Alpha currently dry fucking her clit with just his cock, she knew she would.

“Oh, fuck,” Emma gasped, slapping her hand down on the duvet and clutching the comforter in her hand, pushing herself onto all fours and bouncing back to meet his thrusts. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Killian slowed down his torture, stopping his thrusts and letting his rock hard member rest against her folds. Emma whined at his pause, a line of prickly heat appearing down her spine where her body had been worked up only to have the good feelings fizzle away. He hadn’t done anything yet, barely touched her with anything other than his cock, and yet she had been turned into a quivering mess. And she loved it.

Killian placed his hand over the base of her spine, stroking away her need. “Shhh now, love,” he soothed. “We have barely begun.”

“You feel so good,” Emma breathed, her head dropping down until her face was flush with the duvet.

Killian chuckled but the rumble from his chest wasn’t as loud as the slapping sound that reverberated around her apartment when he struck her bare cheek with a huge open palm. Emma cried out, her scream of pain turning to pleasure when Killian began kneading the fleshy globes in his roughened hands, hiding his own growl of pleasure in a content hum. One of his hands slipped between her cheeks, following the contour of her sex and cupping his hand around his length, an action that made Emma squirm against his hardness.

“That’s it, darling, take your pleasure,” Killian ground out.

Emma obeyed, rubbing herself against him completely unashamedly, loving the way she could feel every ridge and detail of him against her clit as he slipped through her folds. It was amazing, his girth stretching her lips apart just enough that her juices could coat both him and her as she ground against him, something she had never done before. Graham had been her only sexual partner, but sex had become nothing but an obligation for him early in their marriage until he had decided that her feelings just didn’t matter anymore and he had stopped showing her any affection.

Killian, on the other hand, was most definitely making sure that her feelings mattered.

“Come now, love,” he teased, slapping her clit with his cock mid way through one of her hip swivels. She screamed but her voice shuddered when a ripple of pleasure shot through her. “You can do better than that,” he smirked.

Emma let out a silent gasp at the assault on her clit, arching her back and immediately regretting it. Killian had moved back, only an inch but it was enough for her to feel the cold gust of air that filled the void where he had been. Her apartment wasn’t cold, especially since Killian had walked in, but she was so incredibly aching for something, anything, for him that she was burning up.

“Please, Killian,” Emma begged, reaching between her legs and grasping him firmly between her fingers. Her hand seemed tiny compared to him, but there was barely any time to process the information in her brain before she felt him grip her wrist and pull her hand away.

“Oh, love,” Killian purred, replacing her hand back down onto the comforter, interlocking his fingers with hers. “If you want me to fuck you, and I mean really fuck you,” he droned seductively, his words broken up by the sound of his kisses to her spine. “Then you have to use my title.”

Killian slipped his hand from hers and trailed his fingertips up her arm, dancing along the swell of the side of her breast and sliding over the skin of her stomach. Emma ignored the tickle on her ribs, gasping when Killian pinned his length between her folds once more and began thrusting his hips more forcefully. His pelvis slammed into her ass, over and over with the rhythm he had set, and before she had time to realise what was happening, her body was exploding in all directions from the bottom of her stomach to the tips of her toes, white flashes behind her eyelids blinding her for the first time in years as she clenched her core and came.

“Alpha!” Emma screamed and Killian smiled against the ridges of her spine. His title sounded like a symphony from her lips, orchestrated just for him, and with the same level of intensity Killian would have expected from an Omega. “Alpha, I’m coming!” Emma cried, but it sounded like a plea for him to stop his movements, something he was sure Emma was saying in conflict with her own desires. “Oh fuck!” Emma gasped, collapsing to the duvet covered mattress with a thump, her legs quivering, eyes unable to focus and her body instantly missing the feel of Killian’s skin on hers.

“Love,” Killian smirked coyly, climbing over her spent body mindful not to put too much pressure on her spine, nudging her knees apart and seating himself between her legs. He let the tip of himself slip into her and to his delight, Emma gasped again. “We haven’t even begun yet.”

“Order anything you’d like,” Graham told him with a sweetness to his tone that made Killian want to gag. “You did a good job.”

“I did?” Killian asked dumbly, looking at the menu in his hands but not seeing a single thing written on it.

“My wife is very pleased,” Graham smiled. “And when she is happy, she is less inclined to nag me, so yes, you did a good job.” He leaned back in his chair, the rattan stretching and creaking under his weight as he reclined with his wine glass resting on the arm of his chair.

“I just did my job,” Killian told him honestly, closing the menu in his hands and resting it to the glass table top. “I’ll pass on lunch, thanks,” he told Graham with a tight lipped smile.

“What did she tell you about me?” Graham pried, amused by the contempt on Killian’s face. “Did she tell you how I am basically her captor?” Graham took a sip of wine, eyeing the Alpha opposite over the rim of the glass. “That’s one of her favourites.”

“We didn’t do much talking,” Killian replied with a smirk that he hoped would enrage the Beta opposite. He sat back in his own chair, fingers interlaced and rested over his abdomen.

“Mr. Jones, my wife is a fantasist, a dreamer and she will lie to get what she wants.” Graham swallowed hard, his smile fading. “I am paying you to fuck her, not care.”

Killian looked away from Graham, licking his lips with a nervousness that he hoped would hide his rage. In all honesty, he had known Emma and Graham for the same amount of time, and even though he had been intimate with Emma, it didn’t stop his natural instincts from forming an opinion of Graham. The man was cruel, using him as a means to keep his wife’s mouth shut about an affair he was having. With her best friend no less. Or maybe Graham was using him as a means to an end, to prove Emma had been unfaithful if the shit really hit the fan. Either way, Killian hated him.

“There is no reason for you to be so hostile,” Graham told him, observing the way Killian’s jaw twitched when he spoke. “Trust me, she is not who you think she is.”

“And who is she?” Killian narrowed his eyes, unable to stop the question from leaving his mouth.

Graham took a breath in, a long deep inhale that caused his entire body to move. “That’s irrelevant.” He placed the wine glass back on the table, the base clinking when the two glass surfaces came into contact, and licked the last remnants of the red wine from his lips. “But I do want to know who you are. How did you manage to satisfy her?”

“You mean apart from my larger assets?” Killian replied spitefully.

Graham balked a laugh. “An Alpha joke. Good one. Mr. Jones, my entire family are Alphas so if I wanted to hear the big dick jokes, I would have organized a family barbecue.”

“So, what do you want to know, exactly?” Killian’s jaw twitched again and his fingers strained against each other as he fought the need to ball a fist and punch Graham right in the face.

“Everything,” Graham said finally. “Every. Little. Detail.”

Killian wasn’t about to divulge his methods, especially in the bedroom. There were some things an Alpha held sacred, and on the top of that list was the way they pleased a lover. It was what kept everyone different and what kept them superior to the Beta population. It was why the agency he worked for existed in the first place, and Killian wasn’t about to jeopardize his income for Graham’s sick pleasure.

“If you want to know, why don’t you pay me a little extra next time and I’ll let you watch.” Killian’s voice had become dark and gravelly, intimidating to most, but Graham simply laughed.

“Did you make her come more than once?” Graham asked seriously, unashamed by his direct questioning.

“What business is that of yours?” Killian snapped defensively. He wasn’t convinced this was Graham’s way of tricking him into admitting that rather than the one time they had agreed on, Killian hadn’t engaged in multiple acts with Emma.

Graham sat back again, crossing one leg over the other as he pulled open his jacket and reached inside. There was the rustle of paper followed by a dull thud when he slammed a brown envelope to the table in front of him. Killian’s eyes flicked to the parcel briefly, before meeting the Beta’s again as Graham jabbed the thick package with a stiff forefinger.

“This makes it my business, Mr. Jones,” he said coldly. “Twelve thousand dollars means I can demand whatever I want from you.”

“You don’t own me,” Killian said, rising to his feet and buttoning his blazer. “I’d thank you for lunch, but it wasn’t pleasant.” He pushed his chair back under the table and reached for the envelope. “I did what you asked, anything else will cost you more.”

“A negotiator,” Graham grinned. “I like that.” Killian turned to leave but was stopped short when Graham called out after him. “Would you like to see my wife again, Mr. Jones?”

Killian froze to the spot, eyes fluttering closed. Of course he did, he had never felt such a connection to another before, even if Emma was Beta, and he hated that it was so obvious to everyone. He just knew there was something more about her and he was determined to get to the bottom of it, even if he had to play by Humbert’s rules a little longer. Slowly, he turned and paced back to the table like a scalded dog.

“Good,” Graham spat. “Now sit down, and tell me everything.”

#the contract #ch 3 #cs au #cs fanfic #cs ff #ca fanfic #omegaverse #A/B/O #a/b/o dynamics #alpha!killian #emma swan #liam jones #will scarlet #graham humbert

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grovestep · 6 years

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Pyro [Overwatch - Ashe]

Title: Pyro Rating: T Ao3: Click here, and don’t forget to kudos! Summary: Ashe finds her true calling in a rush of flames.

Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe hated a lot of things; like ballroom gowns, business luncheons, and yacht parties. But most of all, she hated Jesse McCree. All of these things had one thing in common: they grated on her nerves and pushed her to the limit. If it weren’t for Bob’s calming presence, she would have jumped overboard by now--literally and figuratively.

When she wasn’t cooped up in the mansion, she was out doing the one thing she did best: wreaking havoc. If there was one thing Ashe loved, it was watching the world burn. She found her true calling when her mother took her shopping. Though she had the money to buy anything she wanted, she felt a thrill when her hands wandered over expensive items and slipped them into her purse when nobody was watching. She felt a rush of adrenaline leaving the store. Ashe would ride that high for days, feeling the best she ever had.

Her penchant for stealing transformed into something more dangerous. As a teenager, she picked up smoking. Her parents didn’t notice, but Bob did. He would brood at her silently as she lit up a cigarette and sat on her windowsill, flicking the ashes down at the expensive topiary. One day, one of those ashes happened to catch on the dry branches underneath the bushes. The sculpted topiary lion went up into beautiful flames. Ashe was in love.

She spent many of her nights setting fire to dumpsters. When she first started, she would flee immediately after starting the blaze. As time went on, she’d stay longer and longer. Ashe would sit and watch the fire burn itself out. She loved the orange light, the warmth, the dancing shadows it cast. She would stay right up until the flashing blue and red lights of the police bounced off the alley walls.

It was in one of these instances that she met Jesse McCree.

In Ashe’s humble opinion, it was one of the best fires she had ever set. Something in the dumpster happened to stoke the flame just right. The blaze roared to life, reaching heights she had never experienced before. For a brief moment, she worried that it might set the building behind it on fire. Then suddenly--

“Hey there, darlin’.”

Ashe felt her soul leave her body.

A young man stepped out from the shadows of the back alley. Ashe had no idea where he had come from or how long he had been there. She looked down at the lighter in her hand, then up at the fire she had so obviously set. Before he could say another word, Ashe took off running.

She had so much as reached the end of the alley when she felt a presence behind her.

A calloused hand gripping her arm.

A strong force pulling her back into the shadows.

“Get your dirty paws off me,” she bit out through clenched teeth, elbowing the man in the stomach. He didn’t flinch. Ashe looked up at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was focused somewhere else, somewhere Ashe couldn’t turn to see because his grip was iron around her arms. “What the hell are you looking at? I said let go of me!”

“Shut up, will ya? Do you wanna get caught?” the man said in a rushed whisper. The sound of voices approaching made Ashe panic. It took all of her willpower not to break free and take off running. Three cops walked right by their hiding place, not bothering to look into the shadows.

“Another one? That’s the fourth time this month,” one of the cops said as he looked at the dumpster fire.

“Looks like we have a serial arsonist,” another said.

“So long as they aren’t burning down houses, right? Call in the fire boys, there’s nothing else to do here.”

As the cops chattered away, the man tugged at Ashe’s arm. He beckoned for her to follow, pressing one finger to his lips. They slipped out of the alleyway through a gap in the fence Ashe had never noticed before. When they were well away from the scene, Ashe let the floodgate of emotions go, and to her surprise, so did the stranger.

“What the hell did you think you were doing back there?” He demanded.

“Me? I should ask you that! Who taught you your manners? Grabbing a lady like that. It’s not proper. Were you raised in a barn?”

The man sneered, “Lady? I don’t see no lady. All I see is some rich chick gettin’ her rocks off on settin’ fires.”

“I’m not just “some rich chick.” My name is Ashe and I do more than set fires,” she said with a scowl.

“Really? Well, Ashe, my name’s McCree. Jesse McCree. I’m sure you’ll find that I do more than rescue damsels in distress like yourself, too.”

Ashe clenched her teeth to keep from saying something nasty. She didn’t care if this “McCree” saved her ass from being put in jail. There was something about him that rubbed her the wrong way. The set of his jaw and the look in his eye made her want to punch him. Before she knew what she was doing, she said, “I can prove it.”

Jesse let out a choked laugh, “Yea, sure you can. An’ pigs can fly.”

The overwhelming urge to prove herself, to show her merit, rose up in her very being. It replaced all feelings of panic, adrenaline, and anger. She looked at Jesse with earnest. He seemed taken aback by the fire that was struck within her. He let out another laugh through his nose, “Alright, you can prove it, but I ain’t savin’ your ass this time,” he said. He looked up at the brightening sky, “But for now, we better part ways. Meet me back here tomorrow night,” he said.

Just like he came into her life, he was gone with the blink of an eye. Ashe was left feeling nauseous at the realization of what she had agreed to do.

—

Ashe leaned against a wall smoking a cigarette. She tried to act casual, but couldn’t help her shaking hands or shifty gaze. A calloused hand grabbed her shoulder and she jumped, dropping her cigarette on the ground. She looked up at Jesse with a gaze that could start fires.

“Try not to look so guilty. I could tell you were up to no good a mile away,” Jesse said, picking up her cigarette and putting it in his mouth. His face twisted in disgust and he threw it over his shoulder, spitting on the ground. “Shoulda known you smoked cloves.”

Ashe smirked, “Well?”

“Well, what? You’re the one that’s supposed to prove yourself. What’re you gonna do? Steal a purse from one of those high-end stores? Bust a window?” Jesse said, then leaned in closer, “Fall in love with a dashing cowboy?”

Ashe pressed her open palm against Jesse’s face and pushed him away. He stumbled backwards, catching his balance last second before falling on his ass. Ashe inclined her chin and looked down at Jesse with a glare he could only describe as pure evil, “Listen here, cowboy. I’m calling the shots. You’re just along for the ride. Watch and learn.”

Ashe turned on her heel and walked away. She smirked when she heard Jesse follow.

Just like a dog on a leash, she thought.

Ashe lead Jesse down the sidewalk. She had thought long and hard about what she was going to do. She didn’t want to get caught, and if she did, she didn’t want the bail to be astronomical. Her parents could barely care about her in the first place, but if she cost them thousands of dollars in bail, well...Ashe reckoned they’d start to care right quick.

They stopped in front of a dilapidated house. Jesse raised an eyebrow at her, but Ashe was too busy digging through her bag to notice. She pulled out a bottle stuffed with a rag and a lighter. Jesse’s lips twitched in an attempt to not burst into laughter.

“Hey darlin’, I thought you said you did more than light fires?” he asked.

Ashe didn’t say a word. Instead, she flicked her lighter to life, touching the flame to the rag. She turned to Jesse and smiled. The fire cast her face in shadow and light, highlighting that maniacal grin and blazing eyes. It sent shivers down Jesse’s spine. She threw the bottle at the dead bushes in front of the house.

Jesse would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little scared and a little turned on. While Ashe didn’t prove she could do other things, he had to admit this was pretty badass. The flames lapped at the old, abandoned house, easily catching on the rotted wood. They stood there together watching the fire rise and engulf whatever it touched.

Jesse reached out to touch Ashe’s arm. She jerked away, taking her eyes off her masterpiece to glare daggers at him. “Don’t get any ideas, cowboy,” she said. Jesse smiled sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders.

Just as they decided to leave, the cops descended on them. This time, they didn’t use their lights. One moment Ashe and Jesse were alone and the next they were surrounded by officers. Jesse looked like a trapped animal, ready to lash out and bite anyone who approached him. Ashe heard him mumble something about “not going back there.”

Ashe was serene. The fire she had set roared behind her as they put her in handcuffs. She closed her eyes and revelled in the heat and the smell of smoke. Once that feeling took hold, it wouldn’t let her go again.

#written for the Rebels at Heart zine #ashe #Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe #ashe overwatch #B.O.B overwatch #Jesse McCree #McCree #mccree overwatch #fanfiction #overwatch fanfiction #Rebels at Heart zine #deadlock gang

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timeisacephalopod · 6 years

Text

Drunk Buys

Random WinterIron crack AU for reasons lol.

Tony walks into the living room with a large box in his hands and perches in Bucky’s lap. “Babe, we need to have a talk about you drunk buying things because I have no fucking clue why the hell you bought what is in this box,” he says.

Natasha’s head whips up, “what’s in the booooox?” she asks in a surprising imitation of Brad Pitt and Tony resents the fact that she and Bucky made him watch that fucking movie.

“A replica of Gwyneth Paltro’s head,” he says without missing a beat.

Bucky looks surprised and leans over the box’s edge, “really?” he asks, curiosity written on his features.

“No Bucky, why the fuck would you buy something like that?” Though he shouldn’t be surprised at this point. For some reason he bought one thousand communion crackers and he’s Jewish, not Catholic. They still have a good three hundred of them left because they’re fucking tired of eating Jesus. Or at least he thinks that’s how that works, but either way they taste like cardboard and none of them want any more of them.

“He bought a pink kitty fur suit once, why are we shocked?” Natasha asks, raising an eyebrow.

“We agreed never to speak of that of the fifteen hundred dildos again,” Bucky says, looking haunted. Like he has the right, all those dildos showing up to Tony’s house brought actual media attention and Natasha made a bunch of memes about it that got really popular. But then that shouldn’t surprise him either considering she’s gotten so good at making memes she got them banned in Russia.

“Did he order some dumb shit online again? Ban him from booze,” Sam says, walking into the living room and shaking his head.

“But then who would bring us these wonderful gifts?” Bucky asks, wide eyed.

Tony sighs, “honey, do you even remember what you bought?” he asks. Bucky stares at the box for a long few moments.

“I don’t remember getting drunk to be honest,” he says eventually. “But I have a bad memory. I know I know your middle name but I can’t remember that either.” Yeah, Tony thinks that’s for the best now that Edward is attached to sparkly vampires that abuse so he leaves it.

“You should maybe not drink. I mean you once sent your ex a 3D printed model of your ass with a sticky note attached that said ‘suck on this’. That barely even makes sense,” he points out.

Sam laughs, “ah, the rare time he mails things instead of having things mailed to him. Remember when he set up that automatic mailing system to send his fifth grade teacher a copy of his degree every day for the rest of her life because she told him he’d never make it anywhere in life? I remember that because that’s the moment he proved her right,” Sam says, pleased with his insult.

Bucky flips him off but Sam pays no attention to that. “Remember when you bought Sam twelve falcons? Or spent a thousand dollars on a bunch of ant farms for Scott? I still don’t know who that is,” Tony says. “But that time you bought ten parrots and sent them to Hammer with a note that read ‘they’re trained to mock’ is probably one of the funniest I’ve ever had the pleasure of witnessing,” he says.

“Scott’s the guy that’s got a kid,” Nat says like that helps him any.

“I thought that was May. I am I missing something? I thought the kid’s dad was dead?” Or was it his uncle? Well shit, he can’t just ask Peter which family members of his bit the fucking dust, that’s rude.

“No, Scott has his own kid. Cassie,” Bucky says.

Tony frowns. “Well I know which kid you’re talking about now, but I thought she was Clint’s... The fuck is that new one of his named then?”

“Nathaniel because the little fucker came out a boy and ruined naming it after me,” Natasha says, obviously bitter about this. Tony thinks the baby has won there though.

He shakes his head. “Whatever, I’ll figure Scott out later. Point is you have a problem and we can’t continue to eat Jesus every time you get sad drunk. We’ve probably eaten like five Jesus’ by now.”

Natasha starts laughing and Sam sighs. “You know when those moments happen and you think ‘if someone heard this out of context they’d think we’re nuts’. Well that’s most of the interactions I have with you people. I’d say its white people but T’Challa and Rhodey do it too. Like come on man, black people aren’t furries,” he says, shaking his head. Tony laughs because he’s ninety percent sure T’Challa has no idea what a furry even is let alone how that relates to being Black Panther but Sam’s inability to get past it is hilarious.

“I think its kind of a fun quirky trait,” Bucky says, grinning a little.

Tony sighs, “honey. Consider this box and your lack of knowledge on what’s in this box. You should probably ban yourself from the computer when drunk.”

“It’s not that bad,” Bucky says in his own defense, giving Tony that sad, puppy dog look that really does make him want to scoop Bucky up and kiss him better. Not that he does because that’s enabling.

“Bucky bee, Buzzfeed has written listicles of weird shit you’ve boughten when drunk. You have a problem with drunk online shopping. Remember the five life sized Daleks you bought because you thought they were cute and you’ve never even heard of the show Doctor Who?” Because he does. Two of them are in his bedroom and he’d rather they leave because they give him nightmares with the creepy shadows they cast.

“Hold up,” Sam says, holding his hand in the air. “Did you just call him ‘Bucky bee’?”

Tony frowns, “yeah?” he asks, unsure why this is unusual when he gives everyone weird nicknames. He called Sam ‘birdman’ for over a year until Clint got annoyed because before Sam he was the only one who was referenced by birds and then he called to Sam’s nicknames too. So now Sam is the annoying little brother and Clint is the boring father. Neither like their reassessments but they both admit that it’s better than Rhodey’s platypus.

“Get the hell out of this house,” Sam says and Tony squints.

“This is my house,” he points out.

“Its my house now if you’re going to call people gay ass shit like that,” Sam says.

He frowns, “that’s homophobic.”

“Doesn’t count when you’re bisexual, die mad about it and out of my newly acquired home thanks to you saying dumb shit.”

“That’s what he’s going to lose his house over? Not that he thought minimum wage was the same as a living wage?” Nat asks.

“Okay in my defense that makes sense! What the hell is the wage minimuming if its not going into poverty? Now its just ‘weird arbitrary number some rando politician shit out’. Its not my fault I’m logical,” Tony says in his own defense.

“Why is there a taxidermy bat in here?” Bucky asks, pulling the bat out of the box on Tony’s lap. “Oh what the fuck, there’s a rat and an alligator too. And what the hell is that?” he asks. Tony looks in the box and sighs.

“Goat skull. This is why I think you have a problem. You think taxidermy is the work of the devil and yet here it is, sitting in my lap.” Bucky pulls out some more tissue paper and frowns for a moment, leaning into the box and letting out a loud shriek before he shoves Tony and the box off his lap.

Tony lets out an undignified squawk and falls to the ground, watching as Bucky’s weird drunk trinkets fall out. When he spots the spider though he jumps back into Bucky’s lap at a speed faster than anything he knew himself to be capable of. “I swear to fucking god if that thing is alive I’m leaving you!” he shrieks, ignoring how high his voice is.

Natasha goes over and scoops up the spider, “nope. Not alive,” she reports not that Tony relaxes. He’s maybe picked up some bug fear from Rhodey, who is genuinely terrified of all things insect and most things reptile. He says if it has too many legs or not enough legs it ain’t right. His threshold if four legs and that’s mostly only because he likes dogs otherwise it’d be two.

“Oh hey, I remember why I bought that stuff,” Bucky says excitedly. “Steve was pissing me off so I bought all the things he feared and planned on sticking them in his bed.”

Sam, who seems to like this idea, starts gathering Bucky’s fallen drunk buys back into the box. “What? He’s been pissing me off lately. He can deal with a bat or two in his pillow.”

“I think you’re evil,” Bucky tells him in a low tone.

“It was your idea, dipshit, you’re the evil one,” Sam points out.

“Gunna take that spider?” Tony asks and Sam snorts.

“Fuck no, those things have no right to look like that. They don’t need that many eyes or that many legs. God made a mistake with them,” he says, giving the spider a disdainful look.

Natasha frowns, “spiders are really good for ecosystems, god made a mistake with humans given how invasive and shitty we are. Spiders are good, you leave them alone,” she says, holding the creepy tarantula to her chest.

“I think god made a mistake with wasps and Sam,” Bucky says.

“Please stop drunk buying things I have heart problems and I can’t handle finding more spiders in boxes,” Tony says.

Something must occur to Bucky then because he turns to Sam wide eyed, “you might want to get home before Steve does,” he says but leaves the ominous warning at that.

#crack fic #winteriron #tony x bucky #fanfiction #alternate universe #writing

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narniakid · 6 years

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The majority of 2018 I spent educating people about the worst drought in 800 years. The Central Coast listened; we not only banded together to raise thousands of dollars, but we filled an entire truckload of donations to deliver to farmers in Western NSW.

It all began sometime around February, when I can recall seeing an article somewhere about how Australia was currently in drought. My family own and operate Mangrove Produce and Hardware, where we supply hay, grain and feed to locals in the Mangrove Mountain region. My mum had mentioned she was having a bit of trouble sourcing feed, because with no grass for cattle to eat, the demand was quickly rising – and so were the prices.

One night when I was reading statistics and stories about the drought, I stumbled across a charity called Rural Aid, who’d been running their fundraising campaign, Buy A Bale, for some time. The aim was to encourage donors to purchase a bale of hay for a struggling farmer by donating $20 or more. It was a fantastic idea, and I got in contact with them. At a time when they weren’t a very well-known non-profit nationally, they were eager to send me fundraising materials to help raise money and spread the word.

March 2018: Help my Mum & I raise money for Buy A Bale!

As I asked around friends and family, and began posting about the drought on social media, I found that most didn’t even realize the majority of our own state was in the middle of severe drought. My good friend and photographer Andrew Cooney approached me with an idea; he discussed travelling to the worst of the drought-affected areas to document the damage, and we agreed to team up with our fundraising efforts to educate the Central Coast and just how bad it really was. Below are some of his photographs from his first visit to a farm in Gunnedah, NSW, and they speak for themselves.

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His photographs caught the eye of Samuel Lentini from Eastcoast Beverages – a local juice company on the Central Coast. Sam decided that he wanted to come on board our fundraising campaign as well, and so – with me still busy collecting our donations, spreading the word, and putting together marketing materials – Andrew and the Eastcoast Beverages team headed to Gunnedah once again, where they delivered a truckload of orange peels from the factory for the cattle to eat. It was such an extraordinary site, it attracted a lot of media attention, including The Daily Telegraph, ABC and Prime 7!

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We spent another few weeks fundraising in person and online, when all of a sudden, the national media seemed to wake up. TV stations and major news publications started to report on all the debt, all the cattle lost, and all the mental struggles the farmers were dealing with.

That was when I met a lady named Sara Evans. She came into my workplace at the radio station, after listening to the breakfast shows discuss the massive impact of the drought. A co-worker steered her in my direction, as I had already been campaigning and fundraising to support our farmers for several months. Sara basically said to me, ‘I’ve got a truck and a driver who’s willing to donate his time, I want to do something really BIG to help these farmers.’

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We both agreed to organize a Coast-wide donation drive, which was a huge job, and we’d only given ourselves a month to plan, market and collect donations leading up to the event day. The idea was to run a drive-through drop-off zone in a central location near the freeway, as we wanted to make it as easy as possible for the public.

We both had a bit of previous fundraising experience, but nothing of this scale, and we hadn’t taken into account exactly just how much help we were going to need – pallets to pack the donations on, a place to sort and store the goods before they were loaded onto the truck, a forklift and qualified driver, traffic control on the day, a LOT of fuel money to get the semi-trailer across the state and back… we’d sort one problem, and then another would arise. And we were juggling this all while still working full-time. It was definitely a giant learning curve for both of us, but we were so incredibly grateful to have the help from dozens of local businesses.

Working for a media company, I was lucky enough to have marketing materials at my disposal – radio interviews and commercials, flyers and posters, and access to our promotional cars to draw listeners in on the day. My whole workplace was extremely supportive, and I am still so thankful to this day for all of their help. I couldn’t have pulled it off without a platform to send out the message across in the first place.

The Central Coast For Our Farmers Donation Drive was a success – while the number of people we had wasn’t as many as we were hoping, the amount that came brought an enormous amount of goods. There were donors who had collected that much dog food, groceries and water that they had to make second and third trips to bring it all to us. We had local schools collect items, business owners filling boxes and boxes of stuff at their workplaces, and families who had added extra items into their trolleys every week when they did their own shopping. It was just phenomenal how much people wanted to help. I certainly didn’t expect collecting enough donations to fill the entire truck, but we did!

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When deciding on where we were going to deliver the donated goods, we had a look into some of the most remote parts of the state, where help hadn’t yet reached. We chose the Packsaddle region, an area about 180km north of Broken Hill. The standout feature of this barren land was a popular venue called Packsaddle Roadhouse on Packsaddle Station, where tourists and truck drivers would often stop to stay the night and grab a feed. The roadhouse was also home to the local SES Base, and Sara got in contact with the venue owner, who kindly offered up the venue for free to deliver and unpack the donations for the farmers, as well as a place for us to stay the night.

We began the road trip about 2 weeks later, with volunteers from Rotary Gosford North coming along as well. My wonderful Dad offered to drive my partner and I in his car, and on the first day, we traveled 14 hours to Broken Hill. As soon as we passed the Hunter Valley region, it was like entering a different country – the overcast weather and rolling hills of the wine country suddenly turned into flat open plains scattered with gumtrees. Everything was so incredibly dry and brown, it was hard to believe that it was once all green. We passed lots of herds wandering the roadside, with farmers leading them from behind to any patches of greenery they could find – the paddocks had turned to dust, so they were forced to look beyond their own properties for food.

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The halfway point to Broken Hill was a town called Cobar, and that was really when the effects of the drought were evidence. I almost expected a tumbleweed to roll past as we got out of the car for a stretch. From there, it got worse – we passed countless signs marking where rivers once were, now dry as a bone. The amount of dead animals on the roadside almost doubled, and as we drove the endless, straight route towards Broken Hill, there was almost no evidence that it had actually rained 50mm in the previous 24 hours. Most of the puddles had dried up already, and the sudden dump of rain had washed away the top soil on any spring crops that were planted. It was heartbreaking to think that at the time we were travelling, it was supposed to be the peak season for growth, but there wasn’t a blade of green grass in sight.

After a night’s stay in Broken Hill, we drove another 4 hours north to deliver and unpack around 60 pallets of donations. Sara and I had organized a party for all the local farming families at the roadhouse, and some had already arrived when we got there to help us set up.

The people I met were just amazing – the most hardworking, honest and down to earth people who could laugh at anything. The best part was seeing the joy on their faces. These farmers, they’d been stuck in a depression, some had really been struggling to get up to work each day. I feel so humbled and privileged to get to see first hand these people reunite with their neighbors and friends, some who they hadn’t seen for months, but had known all their life. We cooked them a free feed for lunch and dinner, treated them to plenty of free beer and set up the truck as a stage where they sang, danced and partied on till early hours of the morning.

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Most of them owned well over 100,000 acres. I spoke to a beautiful woman who’d lived on the land her whole life. To give you an idea of the size, the entire city of Chicago in the USA is around 149,000 acres – she had 250,000 acres, with a few thousand head of cattle. I asked when she’d last received rain. She laughed and said the last time she can recall was late 2015 – more than 3 years ago.

She had 10 working dogs, and the bagged dog food cost too much, so she was shooting kangaroos for them to eat instead. Each dog needed about 2 kangaroos each for a decent feed, but the ammunition for the bullets cost hundreds as well, with each bullet equaling about $5 each. There were hundreds of goats on her property which she could also shoot and sell (too skinny for the dogs to eat), but their value had dropped to $2 per goat – less than the cost of the bullet needed to shoot them.

This same lady had broken down in tears when we showed her the shed full of donations, because it wasn’t the donations themselves that brought these people overwhelming joy – it was the fact that we had gone to the effort to collect them, bring them out here, and put on a big party for them.

We wanted to show them that we cared beyond just making a cash donation for a farm thousands of kilometers away, we wanted to say ‘we hear you, we know you’re there, and we’re coming to give you a well deserved break from the day-to-day stresses of the big dry.’

Every farmer would only take the bare minimum of what they needed, insisting that there were others that needed it more. It was like a big supermarket; they could grab bags and boxes and fill up their utes with whatever they needed. They put aside boxes and pallets of stuff for their friends and neighbours who couldn’t make it.

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Many had told me that a major problem they’d encountered was the rise of bore water in the area. The water quality from the bore water, due to a substantial increase in bores being put in, meant they had to go deeper, and the little water that they could get was full of poisonous minerals and wasn’t drinkable. Most of the money they had went to buying bottled water and bagged feed, because hay prices had skyrocketed.(My family’s own business was suffering too, and we were getting phone calls from all over the state with people willing to travel hours and hours for any hay available to purchase). A lot had told me in terms of food, water and feed, they were down to about 3-4 weeks supply on hand at a time, because they couldn’t afford to redirect any money to stock up. The donations we brought have added another few weeks’ worth of supplies for them and – as equally as important, if not more – a well needed mental relief.

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Andrew and I have continued to raise funds for Buy A Bale, long after I returned from delivering donations with Sara and the Rotary team. We just recently crossed the $19,000 mark, thanks money raised at our local Grill’d restaurants through their Local Matters program. We also raised money through selling merchandise and continuously spreading the word through an online campaign, radio commercials, money tins in our workplaces and articles in local newspapers and magazines.

Despite raising the money and delivering the donations, what truly touched my heart and made this experience stand out from other non-profit work I’ve done was actually travelling there and seeing the devastating impact of drought for myself. It’s one thing to press a button, share an article, give some money, but to actually see the difference it’s making is just extraordinary, and to this day it is one of the most challenging but life-changing things I’ve ever done.

Local businesses are doing it tough and desperately need an economic boost from visitors. A recent NSW Business Chamber survey in regional areas found the drought has negatively impacted more than 84%. Domestic tourism is the backbone of many regional communities, with 86% of domestic travel done by car.

Tourists spent $110 billion in local towns, cities and communities in regional Australia during 2016-17. However, of the international tourists that do visit, over 90% only stay in Sydney or Melbourne.

The best thing you can do to support our farmers is get out and shop in the local shops, eat at the local pubs, and get the money flowing through the local economy again, because the drought affects everyone – not just everyone in these remote towns, but our whole economy.

Drought conditions of NSW as of 24th January 2019 (Source: edis.dpi.nsw.gov.au)

How I Led A Team Of Volunteers to Deliver A Truckload Of Donations & Raise Over $19,000 For Aussie Farmers The majority of 2018 I spent educating people about the worst drought in 800 years. The Central Coast listened; we not only banded together to raise thousands of dollars, but we filled an entire truckload of donations to deliver to farmers in Western NSW.

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bestfluteninja · 6 years

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actual things my teachers have said, pt. 2

part 1 here

so, in honor of school about to start again, here’s my teacher quotes from second semester last year, my freshman year of high school. enjoy.

“Day one and you’re already undressing”

“I went to college for this”

“I’ve taught one person something today”

“He looks so loose and relaxed because he’s dead”

“There was this one pope who was a total prude”

“It’s called the Great Deflowering, and they just took all the penises off the statues”

“One student said, ‘do you think there’s this basket of stone penises in the Vatican?’”

“Oh, it’s like ‘pièce’ means ‘piece’ or something”

“Do you sleep in the salle à manger (dining room)? Only if you have a very sad life”

“I don’t know why I suddenly know your restroom schedule”

“I want to get up on a ladder and touch your hair. Still sounds weird”

“And then you have Columbus or Vasco de Gama’s little ship, which looks like it’s going to be eaten by the big ship”

“Let’s go metric, which we’re crazy for not using”

“When I pass on to whatever”

“You tempt my middle finger”

“Stop talking about my coworkers in a negative way. Or positive. Just stop.”

“I almost said a word I shouldn’t”

“Nachos aren’t happening without cheese”

“We are about to learn a new tense, which will shake the foundations of everything you know and love”

“Let’s make this nice and incriminating”

“Next year I’ll have to require students to get a tattoo of their password”

“Anybody else wanna criticize my decisions?”

“Hey. Hey! HEY!...have a good day”

“After announcements, I’m going to melt your faces off, so be ready”

“It’s magic time, kids”

“I have mad babysitting skills”

“You don’t go to all this effort if you have wheat just growing in your backyard”

“The Catholic Church was into destruction”

“You really don’t wanna write it down because then you’ll cry”

“Anyone wanna help me summon the dead?”

“My mother still tells me I should’ve been a lawyer”

“Rooms and stuff, oh yeah”

“That way, when he’s an old man, people can go ‘you’re old’ and he’ll be like ‘whaaa’“

“If you’re sitting there just tapping really hard, I don’t know what your aggression is”

“I wish I had autopilot”

“I won’t make you cry”

“There were some that considered that blasphemous. Heracy. Scientific heracy.”

“The access code is cookies18 because I’m surrounded by cookies and it’s 2018″

“Thumbs down is like ‘bro why’“

“Are you having fun in art class? Stop that”

“You all think you’re gang members now”

“Something French, woman! Get it together”

“We can be like Congress and have to have a talking stick”

“Here’s a dog with three stereotypes all at once”

“I am as serious as a heart attack”

“You don’t see many of those furry little creatures around here anymore. Except raccoons. They’re everywhere”

“It’s not politics if everyone agrees”

student: “I like your shoes” teacher: “thanks, they’re killing my feet”

“Focus less on witty comments”

“If we could just hang out, I’d, like, braid your hair”

“This guy with a stick, that can’t be good”

“Spent a little too much time in the harem, if you get my meaning”

“I really do try to find anything with singing and dancing camels”

“Another creepy clown, fantastic”

“Are those flower garlands, or are they chains?”

“Oh, how progressive, that you add Hindu women to your harem”

“Probably for the release death would bring”

“Easy with the f-bomb”

“I’m gonna go ahead and mark everyone absent just because I like to mess with the front office”

“That was a pretty good airplane”

“I got too deep in a book and forgot to make your test”

“This is for your cultural education” *shows Shia LaBoef*

“You don’t know why, but you know you hate them”

“This is a holdup, pow pow pow, give me all your money”

“Screaming is the same in every language”

“Satan scares me”

“I have nothing against turtlenecks, usually”

“420, blaze it. I shouldn’t have said that, it was inappropriate”

“If you don’t know basic computer skills, you’re just doomed”

“Attacked by many animals...I can just see him walking down the street going ‘oh god not again’“

“She’s preening you”

“We don’t do midterms in here cause they’re awful”

“I love praise”

“Everything is petit pois”

“Nobody can get through the French Revolution in a day and a half except me”

“Back when the History Channel had history”

“Everyone is like ‘oh I’m so nostalgic for the nineties’ and I’m like ‘burn it with fire’“

“Feel free to email me, I won’t respond”

“Don’t hurt each other”

“She looks like a jellyfish. No! That’s so cool! I love jellyfish!”

“I felt like lying on the floor and curling up in a ball”

“Laugh. Move on.”

“Your fort should be strong, to keep the Huns from invading”

“Why are you so smart right now?”

“I have all of her anxiety and none of her skill”

“Whatever will make my parents angriest”

“What’s happening, you animals?”

“Just fractions, nothing magical”

student: *drops ruler* teacher, deadpan: “why”

“Sooner or later that bell will ring and you’ll be like ‘yo what the heck’”

“Anytime there’s chanting, just be careful”

“There’s no mentions of prostitutes in the Jamaica letter”

“I like fire, so I might burn it”

“These are in your way just to distract you”

“Don’t build your expectations up too high”

“Oh, I had alcohol”

“I want to leave with both my kidneys, thanks”

“If you would take a town out of Alabama and put it here, that’s Fortville” (we live in Indiana)

“I’m gonna start dressing like a clown to get your guys’ attention”

“Everybody needs extra money in life”

“I don’t know if you guys know this, but an essential part of living is being able to breathe”

“I’m a popcorn-aholic”

“We’re gonna do an exercise in loving yourself real quick”

“I barely even go outside”

“It’ll be terrible. You’re gonna have nightmares”

“It is a vest with fake pockets and a cape attached”

“There are very few people who are not gifted in anything”

“Please let me retire”

“If the lottery plays out on Wednesday, I might be gone by Thursday”

“Then we burnish it with a wooden spoon because I’m too cheap to buy burnishers and a wooden spoon works”

“Be mindful of when you’re leaning up against cabinets. Or get shoved into them”

“I like to touch art. Not supposed to, but I like to”

“If you go to Canada, I need you to steal a stop sign”

“I always get excited but it’s always just you, being fantastic”

(a blade from our art project went missing) “I think there are three scenarios. One, someone dropped it and just refuses to acknowledge that they dropped something. Two, someone put it in their pocket to take it home and have..fun with it later. Three, someone.....ingested it”

“You don’t steal the blades during the demonstration. You steal them during class time, when nobody’s looking”

“God, it’s snowing again”

“Can you grow poppies? Yes. If you grow 10-20 acres, the authorities are probably gonna come talk to you”

“If you had the letters for that in scrabble, that’s the whole game right there”

“Oh, Gandhi, you’re name-dropping”

“Isn’t that dog staring into your soul?”

“I’m just impressed with anyone that can wear horizontal stripes”

“It won’t be fatal drowning”

“You can have the rest of the time to annoy each other”

“We’ll cover up the ‘attack teacher’ sign so you’re not scared of me anymore”

*chalk squeaks* “sorry, forgot to oil the chalk”

“I don’t wake up in the mornings and go ‘oh, themes’“

“I am not Harry Potter’s uncle”

“If I cared, I would’ve asked”

“That’s where the Bordeaux wine comes from. Not that you’d know that, right, kids?”

“They don’t care about your happiness”

“Kay cool do stuff”

“No, I will not allow that. You cannot just eat butter”

“If I were to buy a Japanese car and drive it into my mother’s driveway, that would probably be it. She’d go toward the light”

“Since that’s all so depressing, we’ll end with a taco dog”

“I am intellectually aware that there were days when the sun came out”

“I have to get paid for this”

“I just have under a thousand dollars in my bank account at all times”

“We are French two, we are a little better than second-grade writing level”

“If you have to ask me if it’s appropriate, it’s not”

“It’s plagiarism, 100%. Don’t even care”

“For God’s sake, people, indent your paragraphs”

“It’s Morgan Freeman and Matt Damion, what else do you need”

student: “banana” teacher: “good, jenna”

*sharp intake of breath*

“Join us on the dark side of Honors English”

*shows us stick figure* “look at this detail”

“Well, that’s just magical.” minute later: “never mind”

“I’ll try to come up with a Plan D”

“In India, they love cricket, whatever the heck cricket is”

“Before I buy Shrek 2 online”

“Next thing you throw, you’re gonna eat”

“Have I mentioned your guys’ grand prize? It’s absolutely nothing”

“Nowadays you just take a selfie. This is for you. Wink wink.”

“Hey guys, say bonjour to my mom”

“She says sit down and shut up”

“He’s my scapegoat, his mom said I could”

if you read all of these, i hope you were amused. i certainly was. all of these are completely real. if you feel like it, send me an ask with your favorites

#this took so long to type up #school #public school #mine #teacher quotes #funny #humor #if u reblog this youre the true mvp

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keywestlou · 4 years

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A ROOSTER

Thousands of national guard readying Washington for the Inauguration. Many also at state capitals throughout the nation. Trump having 3 days left in his Presidency and everyone wondering what he will do before leaving.

All important.

A change of pace is in order, however. A day off before the proverbial s–t hits the fans.

Leading topic for today Roosters!

I have written about roosters at least a dozen times over the years. They are part and parcel of Key West. I am motivated to write about them again this morning.

I live on the golf course. Not in Key West, on Stock Island. Lovely homes. Pristine neighborhoods. No chickens. They would not dare enter our peaceful sanctuary.

One has. Two mornings in a row I have heard the cock a doling do of a rooster. Sounds only 2-3 houses away.

Most think roosters cock a doodle do because they are waking the world as the sun rises. Not so. Roosters cock a doodle do off and on all day.

The reason simple. One that affects human males as well. The rooster wants sex. He wants to get laid. He is announcing to hens that he is on his way.

Roosters are sexual beings. Too much for the hens. Watch some time when you hear a cock a doodle do. The hens will run like hell in the opposite direction from the oncoming rooster.

Can’t blame the hens. The gestation period is only 29 days. The hens would be pregnant all the time.

Rudy Giuliani won’t give up. He must be back in Trump’s good graces and getting paid again. Most certainly because Trump thinks he needs him.

Giuliani announced yesterday he was working on Trump’s impeachment defense. I nod my head in disbelief. The issue is going to be incitement/conspiracy causing sedition.

Giuliani said he would argue the voter fraud claim.

He and Trump should give up. That issue is dead and buried. To resurrect it for the impeachment trial would definitely lead to Trump’s inevitable defeat.

Louis says: Giuliani will be as successful with the election fraud issue as he was with the Ukraine/Biden one.

Congress’ Pistol Packin’ Mama. The Anne Oakley of the House of Representatives. New Republican Congresswoman from Colorado Lauren Boebart.

The lady from Colorado continues to make news. Her “rap” sheet as well as that of her husband Jayson are at the revelation stage.

Her extreme gun rights mentality revealed itself this week. Speaker Pelosi ordered House metal detectors. The Congresswoman was obstinate. She refused to go through one.

Note also she tweeted on January 6 just before the riot: “Today is 1776.”

One of Boebart’s problems is she has no respect for the law. She does not like being told what to do and in many instances will fight long and hard before she does. Her lack of respect is obvious.

In 2015, she plead guilty to a disorderly conduct charge. She missed 2 court appearances along the way.

In 12/16, she was charged with careless driving and operating an unsafe vehicle. She rolled her truck into a ditch.

Boebart failed to appear in court one month later. She had to be arrested some 3 months later to make sure she showed up in court. She pled guilty to operation of an unsafe vehicle. The careless driving charge was dropped.

Going back to 9/10, she was arrested after a neighbor claimed Boebart’s 2 pit bulls attacked her dog. She pled guilty to permitting her dogs to be at large.

Husband Jayson was arrested for exposing his penis to 2 women at a bowling alley. Lauren was 17 at the time and present. Jayson pled guilty to indecency and lewd exposure. He was sentenced to 4 days in jail and 2 years probation.

In 2/04, a domestic violence charge was levied against him by his still girl friend Laura Boebart. Jayson received 7 days in jail.

Lauren and Jayson were married in 2005, remain married, and are the parents of 4 children.

Charges were levied in 5/04 against Lauren herself for in effect beating up Jayson. She scratched his face and chest and trashed his residence. She was charged with 3rd degree assault, criminal mischief, and underage drinking.

The final disposition of the case is unknown. Because Boebart was considered by law an infant at the time, the record is sealed.

The Republican Party is faced with a major decision. One it has to make: Whether it is the party of Lincoln or the party of Trump.

The Keys vaccine problem has not resolved itself. None available. No different than anywhere else in the country. Trump “misspoke” when he advised the government had held in reserve thousands of doses to be used for second shots.

Biden announced a few days ago he was going to release the “reserve doses”. Put them to use now. He would make sure the second shots were available when needed.

Copy cat Trump announced the next day he would do the same thing.

Then came the announcement by the Trump people that there were no 2nd doses being held in reserve.

The U.S. is fortunate Trump will be out of power in 3 days. He and his cohorts remind me of the gang that couldn’t shoot straight.

Biden’s proposed stimulus package is $1.9 trillion.

Trump advises he will increase the $600 stimulus to $2,000. Those who have already received the $600 will receive an additional $1,400.

Obama spent a lot of money. Increased the national debt significantly. Trump outpaced him. What with the tax cut for the rich, the wall, the military, coronavirus, and what have you.

Biden inherits a national debt higher than at any time in the history of the U.S. Podcaster Michael Snyder recently addressed the U.S. debt problem: “If we continue destroying the U.S. dollar at current pace, toilet paper will eventually be more valuable than U.S. dollars.”

Biden has no choice. People must be taken care of during COVID-19. However at some point after the virus is behind us, significant thought has to be given to reducing the nation’s huge debt.

People have to understand that when the U.S. does not have all the dollars it spends, it must borrow. From governments like China. There is no choice. Money is going out faster than it is coming in.

Enjoy your Sunday!

A ROOSTER was originally published on Key West Lou

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itsreddiebitch · 7 years

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Family First

Summary: Emily Tozier knew one thing. Her father loved her as if she was his own. Yet, secrets and lies kept for years will push her into finding out the truth about her real father and his connection with Richie.

Chapter 1: Welcome To The Tozier Residents

“Good morning Los Angeles! Another sunny day in beautiful So Cal. I am your hostess with the mostess Richie Tozier.”

“Ugh.” The groggy sound came from under the covers of the Tozier home. Up high beyond the trees woke a tired young teen desperately wanting five more minutes. She cracked one eye open at the alarm clock on her bedside table. The time six thirty was displayed on the clock, blinking rapidly. She closed her eyes and covered her head from the glaring sunlight bouncing off the apartment walls.

“Now before I get started with the morning line up I would like to tell my loving daughter to get her lazy but up before she is late to school. You know I love you sweetie but Mondays are not sick days.” The girl let out a louder groan before throwing the blankets from her body.

“Okay, okay. You aren’t even here Jeeze.”

“Love you Emily darling.” Emily could hear her father’s kissing noise over the radio clock. He always knew when to wake her up. Soon after the kissing noises faded, music began to play over the radio. Emily lightly tapped her cheeks before getting up. She made her way through the brightly lit bedroom into the bathroom. Before entering she picked up a photo of her and Richie. The picture captured the moment of her third birthday. Many people were around her but her father was the most important. He always kept her close and others far away.

Once in the bathroom Emily began combing her long brown hair, a striking difference compared to her father’s jet-black hair. To be quite honest, everything about her was different than her father. She was well mannered while he was all over the place. She had straight long hair whole his was curly a challenge to comb. Emily found that she would control what her father ate due to his high cholesterol. Regardless of their difference, they were closer than most. Her father was her rock, the only family she had ever known.

“Hello?” The sudden sound made Emily jump. Who the fuck was in her house? She ran to the bat by her bed and slowly walked out of her room. She took every step with caution. The apartment was over fifteen thousand square feet so there were many places a person could be hiding. Emily looked around the corner and saw nothing, she slowly entered the kitchen. The hardwood floors felt freezing under her bare feet. She looked around to see no one behind the marble counter or by the table. A sudden bang made her turn with her bat held high. A girlish scream held her back from swinging.

“Don’t hit me this nose is new.” Emily lowered her bat when she realized it was a blonde young woman. She looked to be in her late twenties, way too young for her father’s age. She was wearing a wrinkled party dress that smelled like alcohol. Emily rolled her eyes before setting the bat on the counter.

“I won’t hit you. I just didn’t realize someone else was here.” An awkward silence grew as the young blonde realized who Emily was.

“You must be Richie’s daughter.” Emily rolled her eyes. This statement was nothing new to her.

“In the flesh.” Emily continued with her day acting like the woman wasn’t there. She began to make herself some breakfast. She threw some eggs in a pan and waited until they cooked. The silence between the two girls was not new to Emily but she could tell the blonde was uncomfortable.

“So, you are in high school right?” Oh, she must really like him. Not many girls try to get to know Emily after a one-night stand. Emily kind of felt bad for the girl. Richie was not the committed type.

“Yeah, junior.” Emily finished cooking the eggs and began to prepare the toast. She placed two pieces of bread in the toaster before opening the cupboard to retrieve plates.

“That is a big year. Do you have a college in mind?” This girl was really trying. Most stopped after the are you in high school question. While this was not Emily’s first rodeo she never could hate the girls her dad brought home. Most of the time they were decent enough, she only kicked out the ones who were rude. Those usually left on their own though.

“Not yet, dads going to take me touring during spring break.” Emily separated the eggs onto two plates. Once the toast was done she wiped them with some low-calorie butter and gave it to the girl.

“Thanks. That is very sweet.” The girl smiled at Emily as if she had done something right.

“As much as I would like to chat I have school to get ready for. You can stay here till you finish. Do not leave the plate on the table rinse it and lay it out to dry. I am going to eat in there.” Emily pointed to her room before making eye contact with the woman. The blonde nodded in response. Emily began walking to her room but was stopped when the hopeless romantic spoke again.

“Do you think your dad is going to call me later?” Emily could tell the girl was hopefully.

“Where did you meet him?”

“The bar.”

“No.” Emily didn’t even look back to see the woman’s crushed expression. Instead, she walked into her room and continued to get ready.

An hour had passed and the one-night blonde show was gone. She did as she was told, the plate laid next to the sink drying. Emily gathered her keys and backpack she paused to send a text to her father.

“Next time warn me before you bring home Barbie.” She watched as the dots appeared at the bottom of the screen before Richie’s words appeared.

“Sorry kiddo, I’ll make sure to do that next time. ; D” Emily let out an amused scoff before putting her phone in her pocket. She made her way to the door but stopped to look at the dark wooden doors at the opposite side of the room. Richie’s office stood behind them. Since she was born she was not allowed to go into that room. For years and years, she dreamed about what could be in that room. A national treasure? A dead body? Maybe the dog she always wanted? Who knows. Richie wasn’t a scholar, he didn’t need an office anyways. Yet, every night he would close himself off from her to be in that room. Her phone ringing halted her thoughts. She looked down at the phone before answering.

“Okay, okay I’m coming jeeze.”

“Did you listen to your dad this morning?” Emily looked up at her best friend Kelly from across the lunch table. She had known Kelly since kindergarten. They traded juice boxes once and were tied at the hip since.

“How could you not? He was annoying the fuck out of Johnny Depp. It was great.” Alexa, the girl next to Kelly was another story. They became friends with her in the beginning of high school and Emily didn’t see their friendship continuing after. She had the hots for her dad which was creepy considering he was fifty-seven. “Like his comment making fun of why we need a Pirates of The Caribbean eight was spot on.” Emily rolled her eyes before commenting.

“Okay, chill with your obsession with my dad please.” Emily had told Alexa how much it bothered her but the girl never stopped.

“Oh come on how could I not? He is becoming a silver fox. It’s not like he is your real dad anyways.” Emily really wish she could stuff her salad in Alexa’s face. Kelly looked at Emily with concern. Everyone knew she was adopted. It was obvious she looked nothing like him but Richie loved her like she was his own.

“Yeah well it doesn’t matter. He is my dad and he is all I need.” Emily felt her heart sink at the lie she just told. If she was being honest she wanted to know about her real father and mother. Richie never told her about them, all he would say is that she wasn’t abandoned as a baby. He adopted her right away. Yet, how could she not be? When she was thirteen she saved up her money to do an ancestor test. She spent one hundred dollars to only learn she originated from England. It was not one of Emily’s best moments.

“Are you still looking for him, you know your real dad?” Kelly touched Emily’s hand to comfort her. Kelly knew what she was asking was hard. There were many nights where Kelly help Emily as she cried about who she was and where she came from. Emily smiled at Kelly before taking a stab at her salad.

“I am planning to ask my dad about it again. It is getting close to that time of the year.” Emily first noticed the pattern when she was five. There was a week-long period where Richie was at his worst. He would begin to smoke cigarettes and lock himself up in the office for hours at a time. He always made sure Emily was cared for. Nannies would be more frequent until she was old enough to take care of herself. However, she saw how in pain her father was and it killed her to never know the reason. It was as if someone died every year and he was grieving. They would be having dinner and then suddenly his eyes would cloud over. Richie would begin to cry and excuse himself from the table. He would lock himself in the office, he would lock himself away from Emily.

The rest of the school day past in a blur. Emily walked into the apartment smelling a one of her favorite meal. Chinese takeout. She looked at the dinner table to see a collection of take out boxes

“Will you forgive me?” She looked up to see Richie Tozier with his arms open. For an older man, he was fit. Many say he mastered the art of aging through botox or secret Asian face masks but he never used those things. When he smiled you could see the lines appear under his eyes and mouth. His hair was still black but would begin to gray here and there until he got it dyed. He was not the most attractive man but his personality made him a magnet towards women.

“You could have texted me before you left.”

“I know, I know I was running late. Those four am shifts can be killer. But..” Her father bent down on his knees in a dramatic display. He held Emily’s hand before wiping away fake tears. “Will you forgive me light of my life? The peanut butter to my jelly, the moon to my sun.”

“That depends.” Emily lowered her gaze towards the food on the table. “Did you get eggrolls.”

“I got all the eggrolls.”

“Okay, I forgive you.” Richie jumped up in celebration before giving Emily a big hug.”

“I love you so much Eds!” Emily felt his arms grow tighter around her. She almost couldn’t breathe.

“Don’t call me that.” Emily whined but felt her father stiffen. He moved away from Emily and placed his hands on her shoulders. She never understood why he gave her the middle name Ed. It sounded so stupid, Emily Ed Tozier. When she told him to stop it would always end the same way. She could see the pain in his eyes before he turned away. She knew it wasn’t meant for her, it was something he knew that she didn’t.

“Let us begin the feast!”

They continued the rest of the night eating and watching reality television. It was a nightly ritual of where they judged the lives they pretty much live. Her father did a morning radio show that woke her up every morning. When he isn’t annoying people over the radio, he is annoying them on talk shows and comedy skits. He may not be as rich as some of the reality stars but Richie and Emily were more than comfortable. They had lived in the apartment for ten years now. Many people asked Emily why her father never bought a house. She would always shrug and say he wasn’t a fan. Yet, she never really knew the whole reason. Emily never met her grandparents. They lived in California but seemed to only want Richie when he had money to give. Her father said it was best she never met them since they were anything but friendly. She never questioned him.

“Hey, dad.”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot my darling.” Emily hated his little nicknames almost as much as when he called her Eds. She didn’t react this time because an overwhelming sense of nerves took priority.

“I was wondering, now that I am older. If I could learn more about my first parents.” She made sure not to say the words real. The room went silent other than the bickering of the reality stars. They were fighting over some shoe deal that the other sibling stole.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I just, want to see what they are like. I’m just curious.” The girls were screaming on the television now. The camera angles focus on their movements.

“I thought we discussed this before.” His voice lost the cheerful tone it use to have. Emily felt her breathing hitch.

“Not really. You always change the subject and I really think we should talk about this seriously.” The reality stars were fighting on the floor now grabbing each other’s hair.

“Are you not happy with your life?”

“Of course I am Dad. I just want to know who my parents were. Even a picture would help.” Emily could tell that help was not the right word. Richie got up and placed the plate in the sink loudly. It caused the plate to break.

“Shit.” He muttered to himself as he began to gather the pieces and throw it in the trash.

“Dad please.”

“No, Emily we are not talking about this right now.”

“Then when? Give me a time. Give me a date.” She watched as her father began putting the food away. She realized he would shut her out soon.

“I can’t give you a date okay. Those people do not matter. I raised you and if you cannot accept that then we have a bigger problem to deal with.” He began to raise the sleeves of his long sleeve tee. Emily watched the cotton sleeve lift to reveal the tattoo that he tried to hide from her. His forearm displayed dark black letters spelling out loser. They were not neat, it was as if a child wrote it. The s had a sharp red v trying to change the word to lover. It was a tattoo that Emily had seen before but not fully. It would slip if he was doing the dishes or rubbing his arm. It was the only tattoo he had and it had meaning. A meaning Emily needed to know.

“What about this?” Emily grabbed his arm, letting the light shine on the dark ink. “You let these women see it but you won’t tell me what it means?” I have a right to know I’m your daughter.” Emily felt tears beginning to fall as she looked up at her father for answers. She was tired of not knowing, she was tired of being in the dark. Her father looked just as hurt as she did. He looked like he was caught up in a mix of emotions she couldn’t describe. His mouth opened as if he was going to explain it all to her. She felt a surge of hope before it died in her stomach as he closed his mouth. He turned away, heading towards his office.

“Another time.”

The doors slammed behind him making the wall between them that much thicker. She thought she knew her father she thought they were close. Yet, as she got older and more questions passed without answers, she felt like she was losing the only family she had. Emily ran to her room. She closed the door and slid down the back of it. She let herself cry before looking at her phone and dialing Kelly’s number. This wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last.

#reddie #it 2017 #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #richie x eddie

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ofhouseadama · 7 years

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CRYING WOLF | a sansan wrestling AU written with the help of @lostwolfling. one-shot.

The chants have followed her from show to show. Weak!, You’re a coward!, Where’s your sister? Jeering, cruel, and consistent every week since Joffrey closed the ladder on her father’s head in King’s Landing, a halo of blood pooling under Ned Stark’s head in the ring. Arya went missing back in King’s Landing, running out from the stadium and into the night. It makes no sense to Sansa, no matter how many times she whispers the truths to herself. Her father, in a coma and half-dead. Robb and Jon, released from their WWE contracts. Her sister, the Arya Brave to her Fearless Sansa, just gone, Cersei and Joffrey physically incapable of exerting a single fuck.

But oh, how the crowd reminds her.

You sold out! You sold out! You sold out!

She stood by Joffrey’s side, she did, helped him defend the Intercontinental Championship when she could interfere. She wore his ring, clung to the apron during his matches. Then, the week after King’s Landing, he marched her to the center of the ring and had her watch in front of thousands, her father’s head being crushed between two halves of a steel ladder.

Everyone here hates her.

She hates herself, for being a stupid girl. For ever wanting to come here in the first place. For thinking herself in love with Joffrey “The Heir” Baratheon. For not listening to her father when he wanted to run after Robert’s accident.

But even the crowd doesn’t know what to do with this, murmuring uncomfortably as Joffrey’s guards circle her.

Meryn Trant. Boros Blount. Sandor Clegane.

Perhaps one of them, she might be able to fight and win, with Arya by her side. Sansa doesn’t want her gear torn off her again, like Joffrey ordered a few cities ago. Eyes wide, she looks at the Hound. He’s never hurt her. He saved her, once before. Please, her eyes beg him. Please.

The “King’s” Guard steps closer.

Sandor Clegane steps closer still. “Go ahead, Dog!” Joffrey shouts, leaning back against the turnbuckle. “Give her a go!”

He’s a foot from her, maybe less, bending down so their faces almost meet. She’d once been terrified of the burn scars that twisted his cheek and brow, but not anymore. Lips curled into a snarl, he closes his hands around her forearms, oddly gentle. “You’re going to run,” he rasps. “Little bird, you’re going to run. Get to your mother and your brothers. Get the fuck away from here.”

Trembling, Sansa nods up at him.

Satisfied, Sandor turns to face Meryn Trant and Boros Blount, roars, and charges them. The Hound is a fearsome warrior, could easily be the Westeros Wrestling Entertainment Heavyweight Champion if he gave a single fuck about the titles (he doesn’t, never has, except for when he was a child playing with Gregor’s action figures before the dreadful accident of his own, so many accidents happen around Lannister folk, Sansa thinks) and though Trant and Blount are of little consequence for him to knock out, he hesitates when it comes to touching Joffrey.

He slept in his car, for years. Made twenty dollars a night. Went hungry, before Cersei made him Joffrey’s loyal dog.

The past months Sansa’s spent paralyzed in a fog of terror; there is no Fearless Sansa without Arya Brave. But she feels no fear now, only clarity.

She finds herself between Joffrey and Sandor Clegane, and then finds her fist throwing a haymaker. Joffrey crumples to the floor, and the crowd climbs to its feet, the low moans and susurrations of discontent soaring to cheers. Rolling onto his stomach, he crawls towards her, fingers grasping for her calves -- to pull her down or pull himself up, Sansa isn’t sure. The clarity brings anger, a simmering rage she’s been tending to for months. Making sure that her nails bite into his skin, she grabs his chin, tucking it between her thighs, jerks his arms up by the elbows behind his back--

“Sansa Stark is -- is she -- I think she is, Intercontinental Champion Joffrey Baratheon is about to experience the Pedigree!”

Slam.

“Well, if anyone in this company has one, it’s her.”

The crowd is deafening, or it might be the blood pounding in her ears as she gets back to her feet and flings her arms open wide.

“Yeah?”

You deserve this! You deserve this! You deserve this! Her, or Joffrey? Or Sandor Clegane, whose hands she feels closing around her wrists, pulling her backwards and away. Still gentle, somehow, callouses sweeping over the sensitive skin on the insides of her forearms.

“You know what people have started to say about Joffrey and old Robert, but -- oh my god, it’s Cersei Lannister!”

Sansa realizes Cersei’s theme has been playing for ten or fifteen seconds already, hitting the high, sustained note that sounds remarkably like her signature angry screech. Sansa finds herself flung half behind Sandor as Cersei’s personal guards assemble behind her, awaiting orders to attack, Gregor Clegane chief among them at over seven feet tall. Stupid girl, she curses herself again. Striding down to the ring in her tight suit and high heels, Cersei jabs a perfectly manicured finger at Sansa and Sandor, already yelling as a microphone is thrust into her hand.

“Looks like the wolf pup has grown some claws,” she sneers. “Or are you just someone’s bitch?”

A microphone appears in Sansa’s hand from a producer. With a slightest tug she pulls her wrist out of Sandor’s grasp, stepping around him to lean over the ropes, planting one of her feet on the lowest rung. “I belong to no one, your grace, least of all you or your son. From this moment on I am fighting for my family. For my father, for my mother, my brothers, and for Arya. I am Sansa Stark, I am a wolf, and if I am running with a pack of ghosts then I am still running with my pack.”

Cersei’s mouth folds into a grim line. “Fine then. Have it your way. A ladies’ tournament.”

Sansa finds herself fighting a grin. Sure, she’d love to fight Cersei Lannister.

“But seeing as I am the CEO of the WWE, and none of my heirs would be ready to assume control should I be… incapacitated, like your poor father, I will be using a champion,” she says, stepping closer. In her six-inch pumps, her face is almost level with Sansa’s. “Gregor Clegane.”

The arena explodes with noise, a cacophony of shouts and boos and cheers and dismay.

“Do you accept my terms, Sansa?” Blood red lips turn into a cruel smile. “You can appoint a champion, if the Hound would fight for you. I’d say maybe Robb, or Jon but -- they’re not here, are they? Not that they could fight the Mountain and win, anyway. So Hound, tell me -- are you a loyal dog? You owe us everything that you are.”

Behind them, Joffrey begins to come to, curling his limbs against his torso.

Sandor growls. “You’d do well to remember that the hounds on my shirt were once lion-killing dogs.”

With no forewarning, he takes three long steps backwards, picks Joffrey up over his head, and throws the self-proclaimed Prince of the Ring out of it and into the copse of well-muscled guards standing at attention behind Cersei. The crowd loses it’s damn mind. Cersei drops the mic, falling to her knees to cradle Joffrey’s head in her lap. Fury heightens her features, casting her face in an ugly mask.

“A hound is a wolf that’s been made to forget who it once was, that’s all.” Fearless Sansa says into her microphone, leaning up onto her tiptoes to cup her hand along Sandor’s burned cheek. Then she looks back at the Queen. “I know what that’s like. You have your match, Cersei.”

#sansan #sansa stark #sandor clegane #seth rollins #wwe #the night is dark and full of sansan #mine #nobodysuspectsthebutterfly #fic #a song of pain and death

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