#subber

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PREVIEW:

"Oh, so now this is my fault?!"

"Well, I was under the impression that Caesar was your old leg-breaking flame, not mine."

"So it's my fault. That's nice."

Callisto watched them from the ground.

"I think you're right, Gabrielle. It is Xena's fault! I blame her for everything!" she yelled up to them.

"Don't you have to go burn in hell or something?" Xena yelled down to her old nemesis.

"Oddly enough, there's no fire down there."

"Smoke?" Gabrielle wondered. "There has to at least be smoke."

Callisto sighed. "No, Satan has made Hell a non-smoking environment. I think he has bad lungs and doesn't want to tell anyone. No smoke; no fire; no skinny dipping in the bubbling cauldron of flesh; no feeding Zoso with our mortal enemies; no parties past midnight; and most importantly ..."

"What?" Xena asked, intrigued.

"Absolutely no massaging his horns," Callisto finished.

"Bummer," Xena said softly.

"Hey, Callisto! I know you killed my husband and all, but if I said thanks would you get me down from here? I want to go build a hospice with some chick who's in a coma. I'm sure if I give her a kiss she'll wake up. It worked with Xena."

Xena snorted. "No, you were kissing me when I woke up. I was calling you 'Borias' and you were saying 'Jes, dat ees me, Seena.' I'm still upset with you over that."

Looking at Xena with narrowed eyes, the bard flexed and moved her hand muscles painfully, managing to do what she thought was impossible.

Giving Gabrielle the look, Xena asked, "Are you flipping me off?" Suspicious glare. "You are, aren't you? You're on a cross, your hands are nailed, and you're flipping me off!"

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Since Pentagon is coming back and becoming more and more populair, we are currently looking again for new members to join our group!

Experience isn’t necessary to sign up, the only thing you need is a Line account, a gmail, being able to converse in English and lot’s of time and love to give to Pentagon :3

You can apply through this form:

https://goo.gl/forms/zJDWTRLSL2o6FZTq1

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PREVIEW:

"A knock on their cheap, wooden, vandalized door woke them from their five day binge of alcohol, drugs and Jerry Springer.

Ares was the first occupant of the house to wake up. Untangling his legs and arms from Xena's, he worked himself free of a satin comforter that one of them had unknowingly covered them up in. Standing up and almost tripping over a vodka bottle, he swore loudly and opened the door.

Oh no. Hera and Zeus? What did he do to deserve a visit from them both?

"What do you two want?" he yelled, not at all happy with them just 'dropping in'.

"We came to visit you, dear. You really should be more appreciative. We don't visit all our kids, you know. Ask Hercules," Hera said. "Not that I consider that little asshole 'ours'," she whispered to Zeus.

Spotting a huddled form on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket like a baked potato on a grill, Hera narrowed her bright green eyes. Grabbing a peacock feather out of her purse, she threw it at Xena.

Ares caught it in his fist. "What did you think you were doing?"

"You're still with her?"

"Shut up, Mother."

"Boy, don't speak to your mother like that!" Zeus bellowed from across the room.

"I just did." Ares said, knowing he was acting nothing more than a petulant child, but he couldn't stop himself when his parents were around.

Xena looked at them from her spot within the blankets. Yawning widely, she said, "Do you think you guys could keep it down? I mean, we didn't go to sleep until eight o'clock this morning and I'm really tired."

"It's five in the afternoon!" Zeus said angrily, trying to quell his urge to throw a lightning bolt at her.

"I work third shift," Xena whined, pulling the covers up over her head.

"You don't have a job!" Zeus said, as he aimed a thunderbolt at the pile of blankets and fired."

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PREVIEW:

"Mumbling incoherently while under Morpheus' spell, Xena continued having her nightmare, actually wishing that the bard she sometimes called, "friend" would wake her up for once instead of letting her suffer through it. Ever since Gabrielle had taken up Eli's teachings, she let Xena suffer through each and every one of her nightmares. "Serves you right for being so evil" were the bards exact words. A frown appeared on Xena's face. Even in her nightmarish slumber, the thought was enough to piss her off.

Waking up drenched in a cold sweat, the warrior frantically tried to recall the nightmare she just had. Dancing ... dancing, evil dancing, like that jack-ass Istafan had tried to stop. Should've let that bondage-loving-bastard stop that dancing. The Widow Twankey would've been horrified. Green clothes, that sometimes turned yellowish in color; the color of corn once eaten and then rejected by its host into a chamber pot.... Not that I've puked corn after a night of drinking mead with the Gamma boys or anything. A miasma of color. What was it called? A rainbow? I'm not an Amazon, nor do I keep up with Sappho's works! What's with the furken Sappho's pride flag showing up in my dreams!?! The warrior thought with exasperation. This has got to be Gabrielle's fault. I told her I didn't want to go to Lesbos. I also told her I didn't want her touching me, 'that way' in the middle of the night. She never listened, and you liked it when she touched you, didn't you Xena? She sighed, angry with herself. Get back to the dream, Xena! The dancing had to be the key! Nope, wait ... That damn Sappho's pride flag again. Wait, there's a pot of ... dinars at the bottom of it? What's that about?

"Xena, are you okay?" the bard questioned, feeling her friends forehead with the back of her mendhi painted hand.

Oh sure, now you want to know if I'm okay. Like it would've killed you to wake me up ... Xena smirked in the early morning light. Bitch, bitch, bitch. I'm sure glad she can't hear my thoughts.

Gabrielle narrowed her eyes and looked into Xena's blue orbs, ignoring the predatory glare her friend tried to use to get her to look away. "You really should be more respectful Xena, some of us psychic peace loving hippies can read minds."

Grabbing her sword and getting up to leave, Xena said, "Godsdamn it, Gabrielle! Can't I have just one thing to myself? My thoughts would be kind of nice, you know? Butt out of them!" And with that the warrior stalked off into the nearby woods to find her beloved horse Argo, who despite feeling neglected, would always love her if she had an apple. Swiping at the tears threatening to fall from her eyes, she squared her shoulders, and searched for her horse. There's no use being such a crybaby, Xena, she told herself. It really doesn't become you, anyway. If you whine anymore this year you might as well dye your hair and sniff flowers.

A thin light appeared, bright blue through the fog of the morning. Oh man, Ares again! What's with him?

"What's with me? What's with me, Xena?" The god of war asked, thoroughly irked. "I'll tell you what's with me, I-I..." Ares took a deep breath, almost sneezing when a mosquito flew into his left nostril. Rubbing his nose inconspicuously, he finished, "I think I love you."

He thinks he loves me? Oh that's a new one. Biting her lip to keep from laughing as she noticed a mosquito that flew up his nose, she answered with a laugh, "I don't think you love me at all. I think you love my leather. And what's with bothering me all the time? I could've been out here taking a dump for all you knew. Then poof, here comes Ares with his unoriginal spiel of love, while all I want is a newsscroll and one of Gabrielle's scrolls to wipe myself with."

Uh-oh, did I say that out loud?

"As lovely as that visual image is, my dear, it's not a spiel. It's the truth."

"You've got morning dew on your beard. Sucking on some grass, again? Or did you just drool a lot last night?"

Ares held a hand to his heart. (or where one used to be.) "If I had a heart, you'd be breaking it, Xena! I admire that!"

"Look, if you don't mind, I'd like to bribe my horse with an apple and wonder at the visual meanings of my dreams. Take a hike, stud boy."

Ares scowled. "Fine, but I'll be back."

She waved him off. "Get lost." "

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[LOOKING FOR A SUBBER]