#Create Australia Agents

[porcelain-dollbones]

i don't know if this is being talked about outside of australia, but recently there was a mass stabbing event in my city. six people are dead and eight more badly injured.

the media coverage and public conversation around the stabbing has been really awful. it started with frenzied theorising- without any evidence- that the perpetrator was a muslim extremist, a palestinian hamas agent, including spreading false information about the victims to create a narrative of islamic violence. when it resulted that the perpetrator was a white man from queensland, the coverage instantly shifted- instead of a terror attack, it was now a lone wolf, a non-ideological result of an individual's mental health issues. this is typical of the framing when it comes to perpetrators: a white person is an individual, a brown person is a faceless member of an ideology. but, crucially, the attack was not non-ideological. the perpetrator specifically targeted women, specifically avoiding men except where they were preventing him from getting to women. six out of seven of the deceased victims were women, and in interviews with the perpetrators parents, they talked about his anger at not having a girlfriend. misogyny is ideological, and men are trained to harbour deep resentment towards women that regularly manifests in violence. this event was a targeted act of femicide. while it is unclear if the perpetrator was involved in any specific right-wing groups, that the attack was driven by hatred of women is not in doubt.

the new narrative is one of demonising mental illness, because the perpetrator was diagnosed with schizophrenia and there is no avenue to blame his race. there are now open calls in the media for stricter use of sectioning and more oppressive tracking, forced medication and indefinite institutionalisation of the mentally ill. it is the mentally ill who will suffer from this narrative, while the fostering of violent misogyny goes unchecked. this country never stops letting us down

[trulyhblue]

Carded

Alessia Russo x Aussie! Arsenal! Reader

Warnings: Little bit of angst, fluff, coarse language, suggestive if you squint.

Masterlist

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Alessia were a bit like Katie in the sense of your aggression — or, rather 'passion' as you put it gently — on the field.

Arsenal had a rocky start to the season, with a loss against Liverpool to being dubbed as 'second-halfsenal', as your fans and rivals alike found the comedy in your troubles. There was no technical malice behind the name, the girls would joke about it ever so often during training, but that didn't stop the hidden linger of doubt among the team. As the season proceeded, with the crucial derbies of both Chelsea and Tottenham, you started to notice how it was having a negative effect on your girlfriend.

You grew up in Melbourne, Australia, playing for your local club before being scouted by recruits when you were in High School. You joined Melbourne Victory at Seventeen, playing alongside your future Matildas teammates, Kyra and Courtney. The three of you went to school together, before graduating and parting ways. While they moved to the Sweden league, you chose to head to Bayern Munich, where you spent four years strengthening your skills and gaining wider international attention.

The move was incredibly difficult. You did not understand a word of German walking into your first day, and still struggle to communicate in the foreign language. It definitely helped when Lioness player, Georgia Stanway transferred from Manchester City, and you ended up spending a lot of time with the English girl.

Due to this connection, you had met the other Lionesses by association, one girl sticking out to you specifically.

You had properly met Alessia in a friendly match against your two National teams. It hadn't taken long for you to realise your feelings for each other, but the timing never seemed right. She was in Manchester, playing for United, and you were in Germany, both consistent in your hard work for your respective teams.

You both were called up for the World Cup squad, you playing as a regular starter in the Midfield. From your early career, you always had a deep-rooted chemistry with Kyra and Courtney, so the opportunities the three of you created set the scene for your forwards up front. It was heartbreaking losing to England in the Semi-finals, especially in a home World Cup. You remember how Georgia sat with you after the game, waiting until she knew you were okay before she went off to celebrate.

You reciprocated the kindness by watching the final, feeling upset for the Lionesses when the score did not turn out their way. The two of you wondered what the next step was for you.

You had trouble mulling over the end of your contract, knowing Georgia had just renewed hers. After the World Cup, the recognition of the public had a great turnout, and your agent was met with many expressions of interest.

When Arsenal's name popped up on that list, you knew it was a no-brainer.

You and Alessia had both transferred in the same week, Kyra a few weeks later. The blonde and you moved in together, having both no place to live and hit it off from there. Now, a few months in, you've never been happier.

"Alright girls, we can do this." You heard Kim shout from beside you. Alessia was holding your waist, fiddling with the hem of your shorts as the team huddled around each other.

"Go out and set the scene. First tackles, first corners, everything, alright?"

You were versing Chelsea, the London Derby, in a sold-out Emirates, and you could feel the nerves radiating off Kyra from in front of you. Kim was the Captain today, her Scottish accent shouting as both the starting eleven and subs hugged one another. The lead-up to this game was beyond stressful, the pressure of starting in such a critical game building on Alessia and you over the past few days. The whole ordeal was daunting, having not ever played in a derby of this significance before.

"London is Red, girls, let's go!" Katie shouted, earning the huddle to disperse as everyone took their starting positions.

You could feel the sweat compile over the creases in your hands, wiping them twice over before jogging to your place on the wing. You found yourself looking out to the crowd, waving at the group of fans chanting your name. Erin Cuthbert was quick to join your side, standing close by as the cheers grew louder in anticipation.

Alessia was upfront, watching you with adoring eyes. You offered her a tight-lipped smile, pursing your lips and blushing when she sent a toothy grin and thumbs up your way. However; the moment was short-lived as the referee was quick to blow her whistle, commencing the game.

It was apparent that Chelsea was not expecting the energy Arsenal brought to the game. Errors and miscalculated passes were being carried out left and right, the chemistry between both sides slipping beneath the heightening apprehension.

“I'm here!” You called, speeding along the wing as Katie hesitated on the other side of the pitch. The Chelsea girls had left your front wing open, crowding in the midfield, evidently oblivious to the mistake they’d produced. You heard Emma Hayes yelling to cover your end, but Katie had already seen you, crossing the ball to your end. Cuthbert was on your tail, trying hard to stub your sprint in an attempt to stuff you up.

Victoria was to your right, onside yet swarmed with about three defenders. Beth was not far behind; Chelsea defenders were swarming the box in a desperate endeavour to clear Arsenal’s attempt.

You had no other choice but to nimble the ball through Fleming’s legs and towards Vic, who helplessly maneuvered the ball through the maze of defenders before passing to Mead. Cuthbert had put her hands behind her back, using her body to shield Beth’s fake attempt at the goal. You watched with your breath hitched as Beth powered the ball to the goal, observing the swift motion of the back of the neck.

Alessia was the first to wrap your arms around you, holding you up, carrying you over to where Katie was gripping Beth for dear life.

The rest of your team celebrated around you, screaming among the thousands of people in the crowds, smiles etched on all your faces.

“You’re doing so well.” Less yelled, hoping you’d hear her praise over the booming echo of cheers circling the Emirates. She knew you heard her from the blush that spread your cheeks, making your already flushed face all the more flustered. Your girlfriend wrapped her hands around you, swaying you from side to side one more time before you patted her back and let go.

Her eyes watched your figure jog back to your spot near Cuthbert, who pushed her way into your shoulder before the whistle for the restart blew. You tried your best to ignore her antics, using your legs to propel you towards the ball.

Turns out, Chelsea didn't like what you just did.

Erin followed you up and down the pitch, tugging your shirt everywhere she went. Whenever you tried to run forward and make a chance for your team, the Scottish woman would yank you back, locking her arm around your body, keeping you glued to the sideline.

Chelsea evened the score only a couple of minutes later. The sweat dripping down your forehead was enough to tell anyone how hard you were trying. Erin wasn't the only one giving you grief; Fleming was always a few metres away, darting through the midfield easily without you to worry about.

You were finally given the ball from a cross from Victoria, who mustn't have realised how cornered you were. You hadn't left the sideline in twenty minutes now. Fleming was now to your left, running up against you with Erin’s arm holding your waist. You struggled to keep the ball at your feet, the crowd watching in delight as the three of you battled it out alone.

You had managed to dart the ball between Jessie’s legs, causing an audible reaction from the fans, but it seemed that your face was too preoccupied with meeting the grass to soak up any type of honour you were receiving.

You felt the ground against your cheek, your body falling from stubs to the foot. You groaned at the instant pain up your leg, causing you to hold your shoe and roll onto your back. The adrenaline from the game made the pang bearable, but you knew the tackle was far from clean way before the whistle had blown.

“Oh, get up. What a fucking baby.” You heard Erin say, her Scottish accent full of malice.

“I didn't know Chelsea hired my Nephew.” An Irish accent quipped nearby. “Cause all he does is throw a tantrum when he doesn't get what he wants.”

“It was clean.”

“Oh, fuck off, you slimy t—”

You didn't get to hear the rest of their dispute, too busy nursing your foot with your hands. Steph had broken the two up, ordering Katie to run back to the other side. Sam Kerr was also around, kneeling beside you amidst the strain.

“You ‘right, mate?” Your Aussie Teammate helped you up, holding out her hands and rubbing your back as you regained balance. The Skipper had been your mentor since you joined the Tillies. The older woman was an idol of yours, and you looked up to her despite the few years between you.

However, you couldn't respond to Sam in time, for she was pushed away harshly by a certain blonde, her blue eyes reeling with anger at the sight of the tackle you endured.

“Stay away from her, Kerr.” She snarled, using her arm to support your weight onto one foot. You put your hand on her chest, shooting a silent apology to Sam, who shrugged nonchalantly before sauntering off.

“Y/N, are you alright?” The referee asked the yellow card still in her hand. You knew you had the power to play it over the top, but this game was everything to you. You didn't want to be subbed off any time soon.

But your girlfriend wasn't having any of it.

“She,” Less pointed to Erin, who was standing by a regretful Fleming. “Needs to be sent off for that. She's been harassing Y/N all game. It was obviously on purpose. Did you see it? It was stubs to the—”

“Lessi, stop, it's alright. I'm fine.” You swapped glances from your girlfriend to the Ref, who was still looking at you for reassurance in regard to your physical wellness. “I’m fine.” You repeated, and the whistle was quickly blown for a free kick, and a yellow toward Cuthbert.

Alessia looked down at you cautiously, eyeing your leg and the slight weariness in your step. “Are you sure?” She asked.

When you nodded, she jogged over to her position once more, sighing at your stubbornness as you prepared for your kick.

Ilestedt’s goal only a few minutes later sent all of the girls into a frenzy. You sprinted over to the Swedish player, jumping onto her back and kissing her head, laughing as you felt the rest of your team surround you in hugs and celebrations. The screams and cheers in the stands were phenomenal. No one expected the Reds to be beating the Blues so early into the game.

Erin was hot on your tail when Caitlin punted the ball towards you. You made the sprint down the line, your Aussie teammates Steph and Caitlin both yelling out for a pass. You were about to boot it behind you, where Steph was waiting for the assist when you felt your legs give out for the second time that game. The grass met your face, the power of the fall leaving you in shambles, the ball long forgotten by the time your hand shot up to the blood running down your nose.

Steph was by your side, forgetting all about the game still in play. Alessia had gained possession of the ball, holding it in her hands by the time you had sat up, the whistling blowing when the Ref noticed the amount of red spilling down your shirt.

“Move your hand.” Steph uttered, holding your face and using her own shirt to hold your nose. “It’s not broken.” You did as you were told, your nose warm at the contact of the ground, only slightly sore. She looked up to Kim, who you knew was fuming underneath her worried gaze.

“I don't want to be subbed off.” You said, and you saw Kim nod, agreeing before storming up to the Referee, who was talking sternly to Erin.

Beside her was Alessia, with her arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed into a furious knot, you watching in horror as a yellow card was shown her way. Katie had made it just in time to take her away, gripping the girl’s shoulders and guiding her towards you.

The medics had come on to see to your nose whilst handing you another shirt to change into. They assessed the blood, which was slowly halting, and declared that you had just knocked it. You told them you didn't want to go off, and with a nod from Katie and approval from the Referee, you stood off the field patiently before you were allowed back on.

During those painstaking moments, you pondered on what Alessia had said that made her get the yellow. You knew Erin was already on thin ice, and in yesterday’s training, Jonas had said that if given the chance, Alessia was to take the penalties. You knew the English girl. She was never much of a violent person on the field, choosing to stay calm and collected rather than angsty and irate when something didn't go her way.

But in games like this, where everything was on the line, it was hard to deny the apparent tension behind her actions. When it came to you, she’d sacrifice everything. For you, she’d take a million yellows if it meant sticking up for you.

You had sprinted up near Fleming when the girls ran towards your goal. The stadium stood in anticipation, the adrenaline of Arsenal’s streak pumping through their cheers. Alessia found the ball under her feet, her shot hitting the back of the net with a swish. You couldn't hear anyone but yourself, the pain and exhaustion from the half leaving your body the very moment you wrapped your legs around Less’s waist.

The girl held you up with her hands, holding under your thighs, squishing the skin just under your arse before putting you down. You laughed at her cheeky grin, relishing the private moment between the two of you before the rest of the girls stampede their way around you.

“LESSI RUSSO!” Beth screamed, hugging the two of you as she jumped in excitement. Arsenal were beating Chelsea — the top of the ladder — three-one going into the second half. If they scored once more, it’d be the Blue’s worst defeat in five years.

The thought was the utmost motivation.

You would be lying if you said you weren't surprised to find yourself walking back on in the second half. Your nose had stopped bleeding during half-time, but the ache was still attending when you made your way to the wing.

Just before you went out, you felt familiar hands grip your waist, pushing you against the wall of your cubby. You saw Alessia’s glare eye your kit and the way she licked her lips at the sight of your flushed countenance. Her starved eyes roamed your face. Your lips met hers in a hungry kiss, knowing the rest of the girls were in their own world as they prepared for what was to come.

“You’re playing really good.” You said, holding her biceps, your finger drawing circles against her skin.

Alessia hummed, meeting your lips again, nipping your bottom lip before pulling away. “So are you, baby. ‘Making me so proud, you are.”

The compliment went straight through you. Her eyes continued to linger on you as you walked back out onto the pitch. You swallowed any pre-existing desire you had for the girl as Jessie Fleming walked by your side, offering you a curt, determined smile, then going stone-faced.

The rivalry in the second half displayed by both sides was nothing in comparison to the anger radiating in the last forty-five minutes of the London Derby.

Katie and Caitlin both got cards in two minutes of each other. Lauren James, Chelsea forward, fifteen minutes later. Illegal tackles were thrown left and right, pushing, shoving, ploughing everywhere you looked.

Emma Hayes must've thought Erin would've been sent off if been marking you for another second. Jessie was a much cleaner opponent, but as the time ticked over, the end of the match and the taste of victory near, the Canadian found haste in her decisions, making a rather late decision in tackling you near the sideline.

“Fuck, sorry.” She spoke, and while remorseful, she seemed too engulfed in the loss to speak much truth. She took her yellow graciously but made no attempt to reconcile with you. She walked over to Sam, who gave her a scornful glare, making the younger girl cower. You took your time getting up off the grass, stretching out the tension in your hamstrings before straightening back onto your feet.

On her way over to you, Alessia shot the dirtiest glare she could muster towards Fleming, not realising that many fans would catch the interaction on their phones. She made her way over to you, kissing the top of your forehead, making no endeavour to hide her public affection towards you.

Your relationship with Alessia was extremely private. You didn't want the public to know every detail of each other, and how you lived day to day in each other’s company, but that didn't mean you didn't like to tease your relationship over social media every once and a while. The Arsenal girls were all for a photo dump on Instagram, and many of the fans had caught onto your close proximity in some of the photos.

One of them in particular caused the rumours of your relationship to form. It was in Katie’s dump, a couple of weeks after your move to Arsenal. A group of girls were all sitting together in a booth, somewhere in a random London pub, but there wasn't enough room, leaving you to sit on Alessia’s lap when the photo was taken. From there, everyone assumed the two of you were dating, and while neither of you confirmed anything, it wasn't a secret you were trying hard to keep.

The game proceeded and not long after, an easy penalty was given to your side after a Chelsea defensive miscommunication. It was Alessia who took it, and the crowd made deafening sounds of joy as the Reds crowded around each other in celebration.

You were beating Chelsea 4-1.

The feeling was euphoric. Nothing could beat the sour, everlasting annoyance planted on Cuthbert’s face. Nothing could take you away from the overwhelming happiness that overtook your body when the full-time whistle blew, leaving Arsenal in glee at the massive takedown on the reigning top-of-the-ladder.

Alessia was up against you the moment you met each other’s glance. She pulled you off the ground, spinning you around in circles, making you squirm and squeal as she tickled your sides.

“You did so well, baby.” She sounded, her breath tickling your ear. You shivered, trying hard to hold in your yearning. Alessia knew how to rile you up, hands coming up to glue to your shoulders, massaging the knots that had formed from the tiresome run you just had. You groaned at the relief. Alessia smirked at the whines coming from your mouth.

“All for me, baby?”

You hid your face in her chest at that, face red at her undistinguished connotations. She laughed, holding your chin, placing a quick peck on the side of your lips, pulling you back into her afterwards.

You waited until she was soaking up the silence, a small smile decorating your sweaty face.

“Did it all for you, Lessi.”

____________________________

[absurdthirst]

I know that a/b/o isn't everybody's cup of tea, but... maybe headcanons about (alpha) Pedro boys getting home from work and finding omega reader in heat? Pretty please?

Coming Home to Find You In Heat:

*** When reblogging or talking about Omegaverse, please remember that ‘a/b/o’ without the slash punctuation marks (/) is considered a slur for the Aboriginal people in Australia.

**Female Reader

Javier Peña: There isn't a day that Javier doesn't come home thinking about fucking you. It's programmed into his DNA. However, the second he hits the door, he smells it. The intoxicating scent of your pheromones filling the house. Second only to the scent of your cum on his cock as his favorite. His entire body is throbbing as he calls your name. Walking through the door to see you whimpering his name with the toy you have buzzing between your legs. "Oh 'mega." He groans, ripping off the suit jacket and tossing it aside. "Don't stop. I'll be inside you soon enough. Let me get undressed."

Ezra: He isn't even aware that you are in heat until he removes the sealed helmet from his head. You had stayed in the tent because you weren't feeling well, so Ezra had decided to dig by himself. Coming back earlier than normal so he can check on you, he had decontaminated and had just unsealed his helmet when that intoxicating aroma fills his nostrils. "Kevva." He groans, eyes darkening as you sweat and suffer. "Little gem, you should have let me know of your plight far before now." He hums as he starts to strip himself of his suit. "It my humblest undertaking as your alpha to see to your comfort during the trying times of the burden of your nature." He is practically panting already, thinking of the ways he will take you and make sure you are knotted properly. "Push two fingers inside that deprived pussy, gem. Gratify yourself until I can accommodate you suitably with my cock."

Mando: He immediately sets a course for a hospitable planet, one he knows will be safe for you and the kid. He knows that he will be get very little sleep over the next few days, making sure the kid is taken care of and out of trouble as well as taking care of you. The little sleeping nook isn't big enough for your nest, so he moves containers and crates to create a private area for you to build a nest with the blankets and padding he has on hand. As soon as he has landed, the safety protocols for the ship are engaged and he has every light turned off, plunging it into darkness so he can remove his armor and helmet. "Don't worry, cyarika." His unmodulated voice is warm as he reaches for you. "You will be crying in pleasure soon."

Frankie Morales: Heats after kids is difficult. He knows you are in pain and suffering so he calls his mom, begging her to take the kids. He has to give you a quick orgasm on his fingers before he takes them over to her, so desperate to feel your alpha that it makes him a little bigheaded. He's stopping by the pizza place to grab some food to make it easy for you as well. His weekend get together plans with the boys are cancelled, he has more important things to do, like you.

Pero Tovar: You think that this man isn't going to smell you the second he stops his horse? Think again. The smell of your need calls to him and he is rushing through bedding down his horse and stripping down to wash in the barrel next to the door. You don't like it when he tries to fuck you when he's dirty. Not that he cares. All he cares about is that his omega needs his cock. He won't even stop to eat the food you had managed to prepare before you had taken to your bed, barring the door and growling when he sees you in the bed. "Omega." He growls, knowing that he will be taking care of you until the heat has passed.

Agent Whiskey: There is nothing that Jack likes more than a needy, whiny omega, begging for his cock. Especially with it's his own omega. A trail of clothes is left through the house as he makes his way to the bedroom. Pausing at the end of the bed to watch as you try to pleasure yourself with your fingers in the middle of your bed, surrounded by the scent of your alpha, but it's not enough. His cock is already hard and leaking, his hand wrapped around it. "Sugar, you look mighty lonely in that pretty nest of yours." He coos, grinning at you. "Why don't you let your alpha take care of you and fill that needy pussy up?"

Marcus Pike: Marcus knows before he gets home. He can hear it in your voice and he keeps track of your heat cycles. He hated having to travel so close to the time, but he had hoped he would make it back in time. On the way home from the airport, he is calling for takeout to be delivered, knowing that you will need him to knot you, then you will need to eat. You forget to eat in the haze of lust unless he makes sure you do. On the drive home, he is talking to you, soothing you over the phone and talking you through using one of your toys while you are wearing his academy shirt that smells like him.

Max Phillips: This is one cocky motherfucker. An alpha and a vampire? He knew that you were going to be in heat before he ever even left on his fucking business trip. The iron levels in your blood changed. So when he hits the door, this man is already a puffed up, primed alpha. He's on you before you even know he's in the house. Groaning over your scent and burying his face in your cunt to get you ready to take him. His inhuman abilities will have your pain pushed away in no time and your sweet omega cries filling his ears.

Dave York: FERAL. This man is absolutely feral when he learns you are in heat. The animalistic urge to wreck you is always there, right beneath the surface, but when your hormones go wild and your heat sends out those heady pheromones, he takes it to another level. Your comfort is best determined by having your legs up on his shoulders, his cock buried inside you with his knot locking him in place while you scream his name until you are hoarse.

Oberyn Martell: Oberyn is actually slightly upset at you. There are other alphas, even betas, that you could have used to help you until he arrived. Ellaria lets him know that you are in your nest, suffering needlessly. He's even more upset that you haven't taken the potion he had been working with the maester of Dorne to help ease your heats. But he can't be too upset at you when you whimper his name and beg him to put a baby in you. He will stay right there until every second of your heat has passed and you're satisfied.

Zach Wellison: Zach is an attentive alpha, he's honestly so guilt ridden that he had been working on Ms. Martinez's water heater issues when your heat started. He's rushing to you and cooing, apologizing while he strips down and climbs into the bed with you. "I'm so sorry, baby, you should have called me." He is kissing and comforting you, pulling you into his arms and immediately starting to get you ready for his cock to take the ache away.

Max Lord: Max comes home, completely distracted by the fact that his company is failing. He smells something, but he is pouring over the reports and obsessing over the meetings that hadn't gone the way he had hoped them too. Unaware of your plight until he walks into the bedroom to change out of that uncomfortable suit and he is smacked in the face with your scent and sees you whining in the bed. His instinct is to take care of you and he will, but he's a little annoyed that he must right now. It's not the best time.

Marcus Moreno: He's nervous, this is the first time he has had to care for an omega since he lost his late wife. Not like you haven't had sex, but this is the first heat. It is his job to take care of you. He calls his mom and asks her to pick Missy up, aware that while his daughter knows what is going on, he needs to focus on you. Reminding you and himself that it will be okay and he will make sure that you are comfortable. Perhaps a little unsure of himself to start, but as soon as he comes into that alpha headspace, you remember why this man leads the Heroics team and is the perfect alpha for you.

Dieter Bravo: The fact that this man is an alpha is still the biggest surprise of your entire life, especially when he's your alpha. "Honey I'm hooooooooome!" Is the almost irritating greeting you get from the doorway, shouted through the house, but today he's yelping as soon as he hits the door. "Fuck! Where's that natural lube? Are you naked yet?" You can hear him banging around downstairs and slamming doors in a near state of panic. "I'm coming! Then - you're gonna cum! I promise! Fuck, I love when you are in heat!" Despite his chaos, Dieter loves noooooothing more than forgetting there is anything outside of the little nest you fix and the need to be buried inside you.

Javi Gutierrez: Javi was never away from you to begin with. He writes in the office with the door open and the second the first grunt of pain is heard, he is shutting down the laptop and coming to you. He knows that you are going into heat and immediately starts to reassure you that he will be right there for you. Whatever you need and however many times you need it, he will take care of it. Urging you to strip out of your itchy, irritating clothes and to climb into the bed that you will share for the next few days.

Tim Rockford: You have to call this motherfucker home. It's another late night for him. Chinese take-out cartons, cigarettes and stale coffee had been how his evening had looked as he worked well past the time other officers went home, burning another quart of that midnight oil. He had been startled when the phone rang, but when he hear your desperate, pained voice begging him to come home, he's grabbing his coat and racing out the door.

Joel Miller: Going into heat on the road is not easy, or convenient. If you think that his stress levels are high normally, they go through the roof right now. You will be so vulnerable, and his attention has to be focused on taking care of you. Joel will have to ignore the needs of your body, and his, until he can find a safe place for you to hole up. Somewhere Ellie can block out the "gross sounds", because let's face it, who wants to hear their chosen parents fuck? There's also the problem with needing more calories and water during this time. It's a lot to deal with, but Joel will take care of you, he hasn't let you down yet - but he has got to get you somewhere to dick you down before you feel like you're going to die.

Marcus Acacius: The entire encampment knows you are in heat. The tents are not thick enough to keep the cloying scent of your need and arousal contained to his tent. Alphas will be sniffing around and the only thing that protects you is the clear knowledge that any alpha that lays a hand on you will be die a slow and agonizing death at the general's hands. He is pulled from a strategy meeting by one of his servants, a loyal beta, who informs him of your plight. Making him hurry back, hearing your calls for him long before he reaches the tent to join you. Once he is inside, he is in complete control and the war will just have to go on without him, or there will be a tentative peace while he cares for you.

[elaine19day]

To those who are confused as to where and how to buy OldXian's new artbook and merchandise, let me try to break it down for you.

A few days ago, OldXian announced the pre-sale of their new artbook which comes in two versions.

Variant A (regular) includes: - the new artbook - a poster - 2x postcards

Variant B (deluxe edition) includes: - the new artbook - a poster - 2x postcards - 4x buttons - a shishiki board - a sticker sheet - a 24 page booklet

Furthermore there's two new acrylic standees which can be purchased separately. A tianshan and a zhanyi version.

The cost of these items is as follows: Artbook (version A): 89 Yuan [roughly: 13 USD | 12 Euro | 10 GBP] Artbook (version B): 189 Yuan [roughly: 27 USD | 25 Euro 21 GBP] Acrylic Standee: 49 Yuan (each) [roughly: 7 USD | 7 Euro | 6 GBP]

All of these items are available for purchase in their taobao store now, under this link: https://item.taobao.com/item.htm?ft=t&id=786971367604

But if you have trouble creating a taobao account or your country isn't on the (very short) taobao shipping list [China, Taiwan, Malaysia, Singapore, Japan, USA, Canada, Australia, New Zealand] then you have several other options to get your hands on these new items.

1. You could use aliexpress, koonbooks or any other China-based shopping app/website to buy these things from a 3rd party seller.

Now, keep in mind that these sellers obviously want to make a profit, so you will pay more than in the original taobao shop. However, on the plus side, they usually offer free shipping, which is nice considering that items like artbooks are heavy and shipping costs are based on weight, so if you pay over, some of that money also goes towards covering the shipping costs, which is not bad.

The risk of ordering with such a website is obviously that the independent seller could turn out to be a scammer and keep your money and not send you the goods. I have no idea about koonbook's policies, however in the case of aliexpress you are at least protected by such practices and should you not receive what you paid for, you will be refunded and get your money back.

Also keep in mind that the artbook and merch is still in production at this point! But Old Xian said the merch will be shipped out BEFORE May 20th. That's less than 4 weeks from now.

That being said - in some cases the merch will be cheaper on aliexpress after official ship-out, because there will be more people offering it, competing for best prices.

However there's obviously also a risk that the deluxe edition will sell out before that or that these re-sellers only ship the artbook itself with none of the extras.

Here's two links where you can have a look at potential resellers, but carefully think about all the pro's and con's I gave you before you consider to buy. https://www.aliexpress.com/item/1005006893284852.html https://koonbooks.com/products/old-xian-19-days-art-collection-3-chinese?variant=46493038674166 2.

The other option you have is using a taobao shopping agent. If you google that, you'll find dozens of websites offering their services. I myself have used parcelup, 42agent and superbuy before. Here's links to all of them: https://www.superbuy.com/ https://parcelup.com/ https://www.42agent.com/ What all of these agents have in common is that you need to create an account BEFORE you can start searching and shopping. All you need for that is a valid email address. I'll show how it works with superbuy screenshots here. After you signed up, you can copy the taobao-link I gave you earlier and paste it into the search-field.

What will come up is an embedded view of the taobao listing where you can pick which variant you want and then add it to your shopping cart.

Once you have added everything you want, click on the shopping cart and simply follow all further payment instructions.

They will also ask you if you want them to keep the original packaging or if you want them to remove anything unnecessary and repack everything in order to make it weigh less so shipping will be cheaper. It's up to you. You will then be asked to pay for items, domestic shipping (so mosspaca studios can ship the goods to your agent's warehouse) and in some cases a service fee. For example, superbuy has no service fee, however they stopped offering paypal as payment method recently so you'd need a credit card or other online methods to pay for your order and everything. Parcelup, however, still offers paypal, but they also charge service fees. (They are fairly low though, if you ask me.) So after you paid for your goods, they will order the items for you and then you'll have to wait about 4-5 weeks for them to arrive, because keep in mind - like I said earlier - everything is still in production and Old Xian aims to ship everything out before the 20th of May. There's hundreds, if not thousands of parcels arriving to all agent's warehouses every day, so it will take them a few days to sort through things after your order arrives. You need to be patient!! They will get back to you with pictures of your order, trust me. When this happens you need to look at the pics and if everything is okay, you can reply to them to proceed. You will then be presented with shipping quotes. Usually they offer more than one shipping method and some are tracked, others are untracked, some will take only a week or two until they arrive at your doorstep, others will take 6 weeks or up to two months. Choose wisely which method you want and consider what is in your budget. (Obviously fast shipping with tracking is more expensive than slow shipping without it, however personally I'd always recommend a tracked service.) Just to give you an estimate on what to expect when it comes to international shipping - parcels with that amount of merch and weight, will always cost me about 50 USD or more to ship from China to the UK, where I live. (So keep that in mind before you order. International shipping is very expensive!) But once you picked a shipping method, you pay for it (that's your 2nd payment) and once they have processed that - your goodies will be on the way to you within a few days. And that's it. Sit down, eat your food and wait patiently for it to arrive. If you have further questions, just plop them into the comments and I'll try to answer them.

[ladylaviniya]

The Negatives of Shooting People

Chapter 1 ll Masterlist || Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: Among the rain and misery at the bus stop you meet a stranger named August Walker, and he is 'awfully' concerned...

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Explicit, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Smut, P in V intercourse, No Contraception, Manipulation, Older Man/Younger Woman, Implied Suicide, Suicidal Ideation, Drugging, Loss of Virginity.

Pairing: Kingpin!August Walker X F!reader (No Description)

Word Count: 10.4k

Author Notes: This story has been published in the past on Tumblr on my old account @milknhonies-old-account since I have created a newer account and I am currently editing the entire story because it doesn't suit my vision as the author. If you'd like to be included in or removed from the Taglist, please comment below

Inspiring Song: ‘Daddy Issues.’ – The Neighbourhood

A rush of air sucked out from your lungs as your hands and knees collided with the gravel pavement. Your stupid kitten heel snapped and your handbag had flown a couple metres in front of you.

Your heart thudded against your ribs as you poorly attempted to catch your anxious breath.

“Dumb. Very stupid. I perceived you to be smarter than this…” his voice dripped into your burning hot ears.

He was behind you, you knew that…with his hands in his suit pockets. His expensive leather shoes crunched on the rocky path the closer he neared you.

You hissed when the chilly night air whistled against your cut up palms. Blood rose up from your skin, shining in the light of the city lamp.

You flinched as his two fingers traced along your spine and pressed harshly down on the back of your neck.

‘Please no!’

With watery eyes, you watched him walk pass and collect your handbag. His lithe fingers dove inside and pulled out the phone. His lips pursed as he let it fall from his hand before crushing it under his foot.

The salty tears raced down your cheeks, gliding into your trembling mouth.

If only you could’ve screamed for help. If only there was someone in the alley way to see what had unfolded.

A hiccup escaped you and he softly cooed, “It’s alright now, I think it’s about time you received an education, my darling.”

You shook your head and felt the rise of bile in your throat.

“Please,” you begged with a raspy voice, “I won’t tell anyone. Let me go. I swear I won’t go to the police, just let me go!”

He tutted his tongue and wagged his finger. He crouched down, his soft hand combed into your sweat-soaked hair and tugged your head up. Your eyes met his icy gaze.

Hopelessness filled you. Begging had fallen on deaf ears.

“That’s right, you won’t tell anyone…but I’m not finished with you yet.”

As a gasp lifted from your lips he chuckled, “You’re precious if you think I’m letting you go after seeing that.”

His cold palm grabbed the sides of your throat and began to choke you. As the oxygen restricted, your little hands clawed desperately at his callous hand. Your feet flailed against the gravel. Tears raced down your face. It was impossible to scream out without any air to cry with. With every passing second, a dizzy blanket was clouding your mind and filling your eyes with black spots. His glare made your knees buckle. Exhaustion from fighting was taking over, your nails left his hands, your eyes were finding it difficult to stay open. Eventually your lashes shut, and you let your mind drown in the airless space of time....

2 Weeks Prior.…

05:12pm Monday 5th August 2024, Fortitude Valley, Brisbane, Australia.

“Y/N you haven’t met your requirements…again…” Your job seeking agent sighed with heavy disappointment, “This is your second demerit…if you can’t meet the quota next fortnight your Centrelink government payments are going to be entirely cut off, do I make myself clear?”

Your fingers pinch at each other, the skin falling away and your nails short as can be. Nodding your head, you bashfully hummed, “I just thought, my circumstances might’ve been enough reason for me not to find a job at this current moment?”

The woman looked at you sharply through her thick rimmed glasses and huffed, “Ah yes that’s right…your friend died, right?” her nose lifted in a light sneer. Her chipped nails clacked at the keyboard, in the reasons for inadequate job search results.

“Family member…actually,” you said, sucking in a deep amount of air to push down the tears forming behind your eyes…just thinking about him made you want to sob your heart out…

“Unless you can supply their death certificate to me, it’s not a good enough excuse.”

You inhaled sharply and nodded in defeat, “…how many jobs do I have to seek out again?”

Her lips twisted, she must’ve thought you were some idiot or bludger of the system. You wanted a job. You just had a tough time finding one. No one wanted to hire the girl that had fuck all experience in anything…no one wanted to hire you even though you had references all proving you were a hard and honest worker. You didn’t have the same networking and nepotism as the kids you went to high school with. They were all in university or in their family businesses. Some even had kids of their own now....

You were nineteen...still so unsuccessful.

You resented those fuckers…and hated yourself more for it. You were a classic for self-loathing and as much as you loved to preach about your confidence, it was all in vain because you knew deep down that you weren’t as smart, you weren’t as pretty and you would never ever be as rich as those around you. You knew you had to work three times as hard to make it through the world…but when…he died…that flew out the window… you were tired. You didn’t want to have to live in such a lonely world. You just want to sleep and sleep until there was nothing of you left.

Depression, one of the many stages of grief.

“To meet your government requirements, you need to hand out at least twenty-five resumes….by the end of the fortnight.”

You swallowed hard and shoved your hands into your jumper pockets.

“I’ll try my best,” you offered with a sickly smile. You rose out of the foam chair, slinging your bag over your shoulder and shuffled to exit her office.

Her brows lifted as she glared you down, “Don’t try Y/N, just do it.”

05:30pm Monday 5th August 2024, Fortitude Valley, Brisbane.

You were rushing to the bus stop shelter.

You wanted to cry. You were overstimulated and stressed. You could barely afford rent. The cost of living was in crisis, and you were finding it nearly impossible to find the courage to put forward your shitty resume.

You were frustrated. You didn’t understand the employment advocates role, they were meant to help you right? Help you write and hand in a decent resume to find a job; not make you feel like a failure.

Tears crawled up behind your eyes as you felt rain from the dark looming clouds fall. Starting to sprint there was a hope the rain wouldn’t drench; however, you still weren’t fast enough. The feeling of cold icy breeze mixed with your self-disappointment had you letting those pearly tears loose. You stumbled under the bus seat shelter and landed yourself onto the freezing metal bench.

You sobbed into your hands and asked yourself, “Why?”

‘Why did you leave your umbrella at home you stupid thing?! Why did the funeral have to cost so much? Why did rent have to cost so much? Why did the water bill have to be so fucking high? Why didn’t you talk to him sooner? Why was the milk that was clearly off not been thrown out? Why didn’t you see the signs? It was all your fault, right? Of course it was! You had to knit pick everything he did, you had to criticise and argue with him over things that truly didn’t matter...why, why, why?!’

‘Because you are a terrible person. An unlovable creature. No one gives a shit about you. Why would they love someone as ugly as you who resented everything in her life and didn’t take a chance to be grateful for anything. You were a mistake, and you shouldn’t be alive…you should run away…you should starve yourself or eat until you explode…you deserve nothing but punishment…you are evil…’

“Bad day, love?”

You jumped at the sound of a stranger’s voice. Peaking up from your warm snot covered fingers, you met man folding close his umbrella.

You frowned and wiped your mucus on your knees and embarrassingly whispered, “I’m alright.”

“Pardon?” He asked and sat down beside you. Your puffy eyes started to clear up and you noticed he was in fact holding a piece of fabric…a handkerchief to you.

He was handsome in a gentlemanly way, and he was ridiculously tall even while sitting beside you. His accent was pronounced and mannerly. British. You figured he was a tad bit older than you, be roughly at least ten years. Boys your age still had acne and didn’t dress in fine three-piece business suits.

He had a fuzzy moustache and a relaxing closed smile.

Your fingers tremble as you take the offering.

“Thankyou,” you said wiping your hands and blowing the last of the green sickly gloop from your noise. You felt embarrassed he could hear the grotesque noise come from your blocked nostrils.

With narrowed eyes you tried to hand back the disgusting handkerchiefs. He shook his head and winked, as if to gesture you keep it, which was fair…

“So…what’s his name?” He laughed lightly.

“Huh?” You weakly sniffled.

“Or her…I definitely don’t judge!” He held up his hands. When you looked at him dumbly, he leant his head down and whispered, “The moron that’s dumped you?”

A surprised giggle poured from your throat, “Oh, no, no one’s dumped me.”

“Ohhh, so you’re miss heartbreaker?” he drawled as he winked and nodded charmingly.

You quickly shook your head, “God no, never been in a relationship before.”

He tapped the side of his lip in thought remarked in dramatically put on surprise, “Then what’s a stunning girl like you sobbing for?”

You froze and shook your head. The lawyer said to keep it to yourself…you weren’t sure if you should’ve just lied to him. But it was his eyes, those sweet smiling lips that broke you down. You sucked your bottom lip and just let loose…

“My um…ugh... dad…he um…he….” You started to break into more tears as you felt forced to acknowledge what occurred, “d-died, he died, and I miss him.”

Your shoulders shook like leaves. The frigid air on your wet body was torturous.

His demeanour softened further, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

He offered you a hand and held yours with a tight squeeze as you just lost it in your weeping. Your nose started to clog up.

Dear God, how many times had you already heard someone say that? ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’ ‘It’ll get easier with time.’

Everyone you knew who knew about it would say it as if they knew the bastard…squeezing your eyes shut when you opened them you felt them roll and you noticed how he stared at you.

“Sorry,” you croaked. You wiped your face with the handkerchief again before you stuffed it back into your pocket.

He didn’t seem uncomfortable, his smile was soft, his eyes kind.

“You’re allowed to cry…” he suddenly said amongst the loud silence in the rain. He scooted closer to you and carefully placed his hand over your wrist. He tilted his head and murmured, “Did you know that?”

‘I know that, I just don’t deserve to. Not after what I did.’

You swallowed hard and looked away from him as you felt more tears come. You should’ve been disgusted by the way he was so informally getting to you, how his hot hand wrapped around your wrist and the other pinched your jaw, guiding your face back to look at him.

“I-” you choked and twisted your face as you started to wheeze, “I hate him so much…but I miss him and love him at the same time…I just want him back…why can’t I have him back, oh god.”

His eyes kept straight on you.

The bus was starting to pull up. When you noticed, you started to fumble to try and find your bus go-card pass. He let you go and watched you anxiously dive into your bag.

‘God where is it?!’

“Hey, hey! It’s okay.” He touched your shoulder, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll buy you an uber, how’s that sound?”

You uncontrollably blurted, “Sounds like you’re pitying me.”

You glanced back at him to the bus and tried to stand up. His fingers curled around your jumper and tugged you back a little.

You flinched when you expected anger. A slap. A yell. Anything but his jolly laughter.

“And you think you don’t deserve it? You’ve lost someone you care about. You’ll never see him again. And the least I can do is get a smile back on a pretty girls’ face.”

You smiled and wiped your face as he shooed away the bus driver who was waiting. The bus driver rolled his eyes and threw up his hands before pulling away. The bus took off leaving you both to bare the strength of the rain and wind beneath the shelter.

“Besides…you can’t tell me the bus would’ve gotten you home faster, eh? Assuming you’re going home?”

You nodded and shivered, “Now the uber is gonna be pissed off, I’m dripping wet.”

He smirked, “Believe me. If he’s pissed off, I’ll just have to kill him.”

Now that…that was weird. Perhaps he was trying to exaggerate his gentlemanly nature to you, you wondered. Maybe, because he said it so casually, so it must’ve been a joke.

He took out his phone…sleek…the newest on the tech shelves for sure.

“So, um…where’s your address? Or do you wanna punch it in yourself?”

You told him outright where you lived. He smiled and typed away. He didn’t look like he posed a threat to knowing that information.

He just was a kind soul that gave you a bit of comfort through the day. You weren’t total sure where you sat with spirituality and faith, but you liked to imagine maybe your dad had sent this stranger.

‘Maybe he's an angel in disguise?’ you mused to yourself.

He put his phone back in his pocket.

“Actually, now that I realise, forgive me but I never got your name…I’m Walker, August Walker.”

You couldn’t help it…it was so unexpected, you burst into giggles and replied in a deep manly voice resembling James Bonds classic line, “I’m Y/L/N, Y/N Y/L/N, a pleasure to meet you.” And you stuck out your hand to him. He shook it tightly enough to make you wince and whine a little “Ow.”

His smile widened, “You have a fantastic laugh Miss Y/L/N. So other than dealing with your current grief, what else have you been doing today? You look like you were in an interview?”

You shook your head, “Oh no, it’s a little embarrassing but…I was just at the employment agency group over there.”

He followed your line of sight and nodded thoughtfully, no shame or disgust in his face, “Seeking a job then, are we?”

You smiled, “Yea, but no one’s hiring…”

‘Because I never put in a single resume…not anymore...what’s the point? Not when I won’t be around soon with how my thoughts are headed...’

He looked out into the stormy street with thought written on his face. His lips pursed and his brows descended. Without looking a back at you he then asked, “What type of work are you looking to go into?”

You shrugged, “Anything I guess…I have a talent for social media and a bit of amateur photography. I don’t mind the thought of working in a warehouse and stacking shelves neatly either. If I had the money, I think I’d study journalism.”

Sitting up straighter he rubbed his fingers over his moustache in thought, “Ever thought about not working at all?”

You snickered, but he didn’t find it funny.

“You’re joking right?” You lifted your brows, “Listen, if I didn’t have to work life would be a lot easier. But I’m living off the government right now. If I don’t find a job soon, they’ll cut me off.”

He looked down at you and softly asked, “But honestly…if you didn’t have to work, didn’t have to worry about rent or your next meal…would you be satisfied with not having to work a job? Some people use a job to escape their life, others use it to put food on the table and a roof over their heads. Some love and others hate their jobs. I’m just trying to figure out where you would sit in the equation.”

You liked him. For the first time in weeks, you felt unjudged, you felt comfortable, you felt safe and like life would be okay…you felt heard.

You jokingly replied, “Listen man, if I found myself being some sugar baby overnight, I’d happily take it. No work. There’s nothing better than I can think of…I know it’s shallow to wish that, makes me sound like a gold digger honestly. I just would prefer to live in stability.”

He nodded and chuckled, “I agree!” There was something warm and refreshing being here with him…you felt tingly...down there. A small blush grew in your face.

You saw a fancy black car roll up beside the bus stop hut. It was definitely not your average uber. It was an elite vehicle; it was a tesla. You tilted your head when you saw your new friend rise from the bench and open the umbrella.

“Well come on now, don’t dawdle,” he playfully scolded.

Practically leaping from the bench, you scurried under the umbrella with him. He placed his hand dangerously low on your back guiding you to the back seat of the car. It was fancy enough that the windows were to tinted black outside and the handles were flat on the door…and pushed out so you could open it. Very futuristic, you noted. You wondered just how much it cost to higher an uber of this type and class.

“Hope you don’t mind if I join you for the ride? I’m headed home myself as well,” he said as you slid inside. The warm heated seat greeted your cold wet bum happily. The driver you barely got a look at except that he appeared very professional with his driving gloves, and a driving cap.

You didn’t mind that August was going to join you. It was something you found yourself enjoying…besides you didn’t like the silence of an uber alone.

“Thankyou, honestly,” you suddenly said, “I was having a really shitty day, and you just seem to be my knight in shining armour. Thankyou for your kindness August.”

He leaned forward and turned up the heater and pointed the fans in your direction. A subtle sign, he cared…he was trying to warm you up.

He smirked, “It’s the least I can do. You’re too sweet to leave alone on the street. Anyone could’ve plucked you up and do God knows what.”

You accepted his compliment the best you could. Something buzzed inside of you. You wanted to ask for his number, but reconsidered.

You shouldn’t be feeling that…arousal…‘you’re not thinking straight, your dad just died, you’re clearly just clingy cause you’re broken…now you’ve become someone else’s burden for the day… god you’re a terrible fucking person.’

The car drove on and hit a set of lights.

“Y/N?” You liked hearing your name come out of his mouth, it sounded…sexy. His blue eyes glanced back at you.

“Y-yea?” your throat tightened.

He smiled at the stutter, “Would you mind joining me for dinner tonight? I know it’s quite forward but, I want to keep an eye on you. And listen, I can help you find a job, I do have a lot of connections.”

Your throat constricted. These types of invitations had other motivations attached to them. You weren’t very experienced in that department.

‘Say yes, c’mon girl.’

“I’m sorry but I don’t believe I’m in the right head space for dating right now.”

‘For fuck sake do you want to die alone huh? Maybe you should follow your dads’ footsteps you cold shrew.’

You anxiously recounted, “um, ugh, um. Listen, want to um, come back to my place? I have frozen lasagna and I um…I…no wait…I really don’t want to go back home.”

You couldn’t believe you rejected him so quickly. You were scared he was going to shut you out or kick you out of the car. Your heart wouldn’t stop racing. You wanted to say yes so badly it hurt. Why did your eyes sting? You didn’t see how badly you were breaking down. You were flustered beyond belief. Tears sprinkling out of fear and your mouth wouldn’t stop blubbering until his large hot hands covered your mouth and the back of your head.

Your eyes widened. The driver was watching from the mirror. The hand wasn’t harshly pressed, it was very gentle, you were just unmotivated to move away. His hand on your mouth smelt incredible and his skin on your lips tasted like a sweet salt.

You whimpered and kept crying.

“I need you to breathe through your nose,” he stated sternly… his voice was deeper, more in control, “Deep breath darling.”

You blinked back your tears and nodded, trying to calm yourself down and you took a deep breath into your lungs and coughed into his hand, you tried again and managed to succeed. You grounded yourself for him.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, “Now. I’ll ask again in a different way. Would you like me to take you to dinner tonight? Or would you like to go home? I’m being honest, I don’t think you should be alone tonight with the state you’re in.”

‘Good girl…’ your chest ached. You’d give anything to hear him say it again.

You felt small…without thinking you lifted your feet onto the seat and hugged them to your chest. You buried your nose into your knees and started to sulk. You didn’t know. You didn’t want to say the wrong answer.

“Jude, pull over,” You heard him say and felt the car pull out to the side of the road.

‘Jude…it’s impressive August cares enough to learn the uber drivers name, and that the uber driver obeys his request.’

The rain was getting heavier on the roof of the car. It was calming. You however were shaking. Your mind was racing a mile a minute.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered.

He undid his seatbelt and rubbed your back, “What for?”

A stuttering ensued from you, “I- I don’t even know you- and-and you’re super nice and- you- I just- I’m sorry for wasting your time and letting you spend the money on the uber. I can’t even pay you back, I’m so sorry. I can leave. I-”

Jude glanced over his shoulder at August who held up a hand to stay silent, the driver turned back and smirked at you in the rearview mirror

“Y/N,” August softly said, “I don’t care about spending money, I didn’t waste it. You’ve clearly been through a lot recently. And it doesn’t sound like you have many friends that are supporting you if you’re behaving like this….”

Finally, he pressed his lips to your ear and whispered, “Do you need help deciding what you want to do?”

You nodded pitifully and tried to compose yourself. His breath was so hot on your face and yet when he pulled back the rush of cold air attacked that spot.

“In that case… Miss Y/L/N, you’re coming to my place tonight, I have a large spare bedroom and bathroom. I have a nice television with all the streaming services. I also have a pool. And you and I are going to do whatever you like. We can order in food. We can talk until the sun comes up or watch as many movies as you like. Tonight, I’m going to be like your best friend. Tonight is about you.”

It stunned you by how causally he tapped your nose.

Your bottom lip trembled.

He smiled softly as reminded, “You’re allowed to cry, would you like a hug?” he opened his arms and moved his leg up onto the seat behind you, laying himself back a little on the door.

The driver did not protest to his passengers’ lack of seatbelt. He switched off the seatbelt alarm.

“Oh god, please, yes,” you hiccupped as you crawled into his arms. You laid your head onto his chest and felt him rub his hand up your spine and down again over and over. His chin sat on your head. He was huge and he made you feel safe….

As you felt the car move away back onto the street you shut your eyes…he was so warm and covered you like a blanket, you felt ridiculously safe…

06:10pm Monday 5th August 2024, Robertson, Brisbane.

You didn’t notice you drifted off until you heard the car door shut from the driver.

Your eyes fluttered open before you weakly rubbed the crust that had built on your eyelashes. You groaned and released soft displeased noises.

“Did you have a nice nap?”

In fact, you did. It was the best sleep for the first time in weeks. It had been too long where you had lost rest over the horrible memories and nightmares.

It had stopped raining, but the smell was still thick in the air. The sky was dark, night had set in.

‘How long was I asleep?’

The car was parked inside a round driveway. A large house…a fucking palace…a mansion you’d see the cartel owning in a movie was in your eyesight as you say up. It was pre-modernist, cream and white stone and marble. The lawns were green, and the courtyard was massive, surrounded by hedges, a true botanical garden and a tall black fence gate.

“Where are we?”

The car door opened, and August sat you up so he could slide out and offer his hand to you, “My place.”

You blurted, “Woah.” And heard him chuckle.

“I imagined an apartment inner city or a townhouse north side but not this…”

He said he didn’t live that far from you, but this felt like the middle of nowhere...in a neighbourhood on the Northside...but the area...the building aged style. It must’ve been the southside. You decided this had to be near Sunnybank.

You smiled at the smell of wet soil in the air. It filled your lungs as you stepped out of the car.

Your head hurt…you cupped your eyes as the lamp lights hit them. You hissed. A headache was coming on, “Do you have any ibuprofen or paracetamol I can use? I’ve got a headache is all.”

“Of course,” he said gently.

August took one of your hands and guided you across the white gravel driveway to his front French door that was twice as tall as him. The foyer had your jaw dropping.

To the left was a grand staircase. To the right were two more large doors. And in the centre was a decorative lounge set. The ceiling had a round banister and on the top ceiling was a crystal chandelier.

He took you to the left immediately and entered an enormous kitchen.

The house you noted would’ve had to been influence by ancient Grecians aesthetics with the pillars that held up the second floor.

It was gorgeous. The benches were white marble with gold inlay and the grout on the back splash inlayed with the same materials. He wandered over to the top of a big black matte fridge. There was a cupboard above it. He pulled down a basket filled with little boxes of necessities like Band-Aids and alcohol wipes. August handed you a box of Panadol and fetched a glass of water as you awed at his kitchen space. A big island with two sinks really impressed you.

“This is massive!” You praised before downing two of the white tablets.

This was a billion times nicer than the flat apartment you were living in.

He took the glass back from you and placed it in the sink. He waved his hand, “C’mon I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping tonight!”

You toddled behind him aweing at the rest of the rooms you passed. He took you up the stairs to the second floor where you both passed the banister that looked down to the bottom floor.

He gently touched your back and guided you across the living room on the second floor. There was a more modernised setting. There was carpeted floors and a coffee table with a L-shaped white lounge. It was so pristine and clean. The television on the wall you swore was as big as a wall in your apartment. You floated to the glass French doors that held. Balcony and sitting area.

He came to a halt at a light wooden door and cracked it open. The room was amazing! The bed was a queen, and the bed was covered in a fresh made set of cream coloured covers. You liked the design and art. It had a European Victorian era feel, like you were walking into a royal bedroom…but in Australia.

‘Interesting design choices.’

You laid your tote bag on the duvet and sat on the edge. To your left was a bathroom and to your right was a big window that opened the view of the back yard. At the foot of the bed there was a spacious closet to hang coats and dresses. You couldn’t stop smiling until it really hit you….men are never nice….not for free.

“Um August?”

“Yes love?” he said as he opened the curtains wider and jiggled a lock to open the window. Cool air flowed into the room. The sound of frogs and cicadas filled your ears.

“…Are you um…expecting….” You breathed out a tight bundle of air and fluttered your eyes shut, your fingers started to fidget, “Um do you….are you wanting…ugh.”

He patiently stared at you from the window with his soft smile.

“Do you expect to have sex with me? Is that what this is? You ugh, pamper me? Play nice? And then guilt me into sex? I just don’t roll that wa-”

His hand held up to stop you from continuing. He laughed and shook his head.

“Y/N no, of course not, I don’t expect a thing from you tonight…I just hope to help you. You need help. And I think tonight.” He crouched down to your feet and held your hands, “…I can help you.”

You unleash the breath you were holding and grinned. It was too good to be true…maybe he was gay?

He stood back up, “You can leave your bag in here if you like, let me show you the rest of my- um actually.”

August rubbed the back of his neck and bit his lip with a quick thought, “Did you want to change into something else? I can throw your wet clothes into a dryer. I don’t want you getting sick.”

You looked down at yourself and felt guilty for dripping down onto his nice carpet.

“It’s okay! I need to change too! You kinda got me all soaked when we cuddled in the car,” he tapped your shoulder.

You nodded slowly, “but what…would I wear? Do you have anything that would fit me? I mean no offence you’re just a really tall guy…”

The hairs on the back of your neck rose. Was this some ploy to get you nude? He just told you he didn’t want sex...

“Oh yes, just moment!” He said and he left the room. About five minutes of ringing his carpet in your wet state he returned. In one hand was a large white T-shirt and towel and in the other he was pinching light blue men’s boxers.

“I don’t have…ladies’ underwear on hand. The bottoms are new so it’s okay if you wear them. They’ll be covered by the shirt. Oh, and a towel.”

You nodded and skipped off to the shower that was beside the toilet in the next room.

You locked the bathroom door behind you and stood under a spray of total heavenly warmth unaware of the actions of a sick man just in the room beside you…

When you finished. You slid into his clothes easily. The clean scent of fresh linen invaded your nose.

You abandoned your clothes on the tiled floor along with your shoes you felt guilty for not taking off the moment you stood inside his beautiful home.

Coming out you tiptoed to the window and looked out at the view of the patio and what you suspected was a pool house or a car garage.

You felt your hands having to go to your hips and waist and pull up his boxers. Even for your size they were too big…how huge was he below the belt you suddenly wondered.

A soft knock on the door spun your head around. August was in the doorway. No longer in a suit but rather a pair of cotton shorts and a button up shirt which he left unbuttoned.

He lifted his brows at your hands clenching your hips.

“The bottoms keep falling down…sorry!” You tried to laugh it off.

He smiled and took your dirty clothes from off the bathroom floor. “Let me chuck these in the dryer and I’ll show you more around yea?” he skirted out the room after your confident grin.

You stood out in the living room area waiting for him to return. You heard him close and turn on his dryer, before seeing him steer around the corner, “Please, come right this way.”

Going downstairs and rounding the rooms you were exposed to an office, another bathroom, another, living room and a games room with walls lined with bookshelves and a billiard table in the centre.

You both stepped out onto the patio. There was chairs and tables and a cooking area and bar.

He held out his arm, gesturing you to walk down some stone steps. As you walked, beautiful warm lights glowed awake in the gardens. He held out his hand and flexed his fingers....he wanted to hold your hand.

And you wanted to be held again badly. You put your hand into his and walked beside him on the concrete path. You passed a beautiful fountain with angels pouring the water from vases.

“What do you do- work wise- to afford all of this or is it generational wealth or-” You recounted, “I swear I’m not trying to be rude. I just…you must be a millionaire...or even a billionaire...”

August smiled proudly and chuckled, “Please, I’m very grateful and happy to have all that I own. I’m just a very hard worker. I know how to talk to people. I started out as an actuary, but nowadays I’m crushing the market with my investment properties and stock exchanges.”

Your eyes widened, “You have more than one house!?”

A sting of annoyance hit you. Of course, he owned investment properties. That’s how all these rich scumbags survived off the working class during this cost-of-living crisis.

‘He’s definitely a billionaire in this economy. Ain’t no way he can afford a property like this and more as a standalone millionaire.’

He laughed and nodded and winked, “Yes, I do, but I make more money off my clubs. I run a few elite groups. Night clubs, boat clubs, a golf club and more unique clubs, a lot of them are overseas...Oh and a the little Asian restaurant in Sunnybank.”

‘Dad used to deliver there...’ you tried not to dwell on his memory. Quickly you wanted to change the subject in your own mind.

You lightly giggled, “Oh is that why…you ugh…said you could get me a job? Mr boss man?”

He bit his lip and shrugged, “Yes and no.”

He didn’t elaborate. You were waiting for him to offer a bartending or cleaning career. Instead, he showed you the pool inside his giant pool house across from a lengthy tennis court.

The pool was long and rectangular with inner pool lights that reflected the blue water. It had a heating system and off the side there was a spa jacuzzi.

He held open the glass door. You tiptoed ahead of him and slipped to the ground to stick only your feet into the small bubbly pool.

He joined you and turned the machine on. He pressed another button and the roof seemed to move away. You jaw dropped again, and a small laugh escaped you. The stars were starting to appear against the black night sky. You’d never seen something so advance and magical in technology.

The warm lights of the pool yard flickered on. Steam rose from the bubbling spa and your nose wrinkled as you smiled back at him.

“So….how do you suggest I become a billionaire, take a course in stock market patterns?” You joked which started a bark of laughter in him.

“I just don’t think you’re cut out for it. That stress.”

It might’ve offended you, his cutting brush off. ‘Why can’t men just be honest and say they don’t want women in power?’ however after the death of your father, it was easier for you to just agree and kick your feet in the water lazily. Your stomach growled lightly.

“Guess that’s the dinner bell?” August joked as you sheepishly smiled and embarrassingly turned your face away from him, “Chinese? Italian? Sushi? Pizza, name it and we’ll get some delivered.”

You chose Chinese. Honey chicken was your favourite. He was a sweet and sour pork kind of guy.

You both ate it out back at the house upstairs in the living room. He was finding it difficult to use the chopsticks until he gave up and chose to use the disposable fork.

“Here,” he said stabbing his food and drifting it to your mouth, “What do you think?”

You never felt so comfortable as this with someone since your dad passed. Not even your high school friends were so…casual and inviting?

You smiled and opened you mouth to accept his fork.

You gagged and shook your head, “Now that’s awful! I’d be getting a refund for that, I’m lucky my chicken doesn’t taste like that.”

You burst into giggles as he opened his mouth gesturing that you feed him some of your dish now. You shook your head with a smile and complied.

Why did this feel…romantic…he really was a good guy right?

He winced and gasped after swallowing, “Too sweet.”

After throwing the plastic containers away you and he flopped on the white couch.

“So, what’s your movie request?”

You lazily shrugged and leaned against his arm as he flicked through the thousands of on demand movies.

It’s when you felt it though….something clawing at the back of your mind and gut…You didn’t want to watch a movie at all…

“Hey, can…can you show me how to play poole on your table in the games room?”

His eyes brightened, “Sure! C’mon then.”

‘God, he’s gorgeous…’

07:06pm Monday 5th August 2024, Robertson, Brisbane.

The games room was still as impressive the first time you stood inside. He rounded the opposite side and started laying out the balls.

“Have you ever played before?”

“Yea, but I’ve kinda forgotten the rules?”

He smiled, not annoyed by your lack of knowledge. He looked eager.

“Well, I’ll reach you the easiest game I know, Eight Ball,” he assured as he passed you a cue stick.

He rubbed the chalk on the tip and set the game up.

August guided you gentle by the elbow and lifted the triangle cage frame from the balls clenched together.

“To start the game, we hit the white ball to hit the other balls. There two teams. Solids verses stripes.” He pointed to the two different balls, “which team would you like to be?”

You bit your bottom lip gently, “Hmmmm stripes!”

He smiled, “Then I’m solids.”

He then explained that you had to get all your team balls into the holes by hitting the white ball into them, but you weren’t allowed to let the white ball fall in too or else you missed a go the next turn.

You watched him lean down and start the game. Leaning yourself down you hit your balls in with a streak of luck, beating him.

“Used to play huh? I reckon you were pulling my leg, now Miss Y/L/N…you are whipping me!”

You couldn’t help the giggles flying from your mouth.

Eventually it became head-to-head as your luck ran dry…. Now it was do or die. You and he both only had a single ball left.

You leant down and stuck out your tongue as you aimed your cue… you couldn’t get the right angle though. It was tricky. You were risking hitting his ball instead and that would lose you a go next turn.

As a pair of hot lips touched your ear you jumped, “Need some help?” He purred.

Nervously glancing you licked your lips and nodded. He got behind you. Fuck, he was huge…you felt so warm in the pit of your belly.

His arms bared you to the table practically. His large hands readjusted your hold on the cue and sneakily slid down between your thighs to part them.

“Widen your stance, get really close.”

But his fingers lingered along your inner thighs… your felt sweat bead on your forehead confident he could feel the warmth radiating from your pussy. The boxer shorts you borrowed were also slipping down. You felt the cold air tickle your butt crack.

You aimed the cue and hit the ball….but it missed…

He laughed as you cheekily claimed, “You cheated! You made me miss! Sabotage!”

“Well how about we make it fair then? Let’s make a bet,” he chuckled, he chalked his que tip was he spoke, “If you win, you can have whatever you want out of me, a car, a house, a job, whatever, but if I win?...I get to kiss you.”

Your massive grin fell, and you stood away from the green covered table. Your heart dropped…maybe he wasn’t a gentleman….

“You said I didn’t have to have sex with you.”

His eyes were wide, while his voice was softer with his hand lifted, “And you don’t! I just think it would be nice if I could kiss you…if I win…you won’t even need to kiss me back. Just a peck on the lips is all. Or the cheek if that’s more acceptable?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek and moved closer back to the table, “Alrighty then…”

He bent over the table and aimed his cue…he missed the hole. The ball smacked hard and bounced from the wall.

It was now your turn. You leaned steadily and tried to mimic what he was guiding you to do before. You breathed in and as you slid the long stick across your thumb, you struck home…your last stripe ball fall into the hole and you won the game.

You shrieked with happy disbelief and twirled around giggling, “I win, I win, I win.”

He shook his head smiling. And sat on the edge of the table watching you enjoy your success.

“Girls rule and boys drool!” You snapped with you little victory dance. You spun on your heel girlishly and wagged the cue stick.

You were drunk off your own winnings you collided into him a little too hard. He grunted. His hands peaked out and gently tugged your sides between his leaning legs.

“Now miss Y/N you’ve won the prize, what are you claiming today?” He said it like a game host which tickled your insides. He was grinning wide.

“Tesla, house? How about a fancy little doggy? Or a brand-new iPad?”

Your cheeks grew hot. He said he’d offer you anything…but he must’ve been joking surely…you didn’t want to push your luck by saying something silly as “a million dollars”.

You wanted him to like you, honestly. Your toes scrapped against the carpet in brief thought...you thought about how maybe you really wanted to give him exactly what he wanted...why hide that?

You sighed and glanced up at him and purred, “What about…a kiss from August Walker the most patient, kindest and generous man I’ve ever met in a very long, long time.”

You coyly cocked your head as you leant against him. His broad chest was hard and muscled. You experimentally placed your hand over his chest sliding it up to his neck.

He smirked, “Well I think we can come to some form of agreement for that then, yes?” His face leaned down and he pressed his hot lips to your wet almost drooling mouth. His moustache was rough against your nose and chin. Now you know what they meant in romance novels when kissing men with facial hair tickled. You just wanted to keep giggling as those dark hairs poked your soft skin.

Your wrist fully came up behind his neck. ‘God, this is surreal’.

You felt like you were in a romance novel or soap opera. You melted perfectly. It wasn’t the first kiss you’ve ever had but it was the most comforting and intoxicating one.

“Fuck,” you whispered against him as he pulled back a little before licking your lips softly.

His hands on your waist became hands beneath the shirt. He was slow and steady. Hot palms traced your belly and breasts and back. You gasped lightly into his mouth and felt his light squeezes. He pushed his head back.

“And how was that prize Y/N?”

You nodded and sucked both your lips into your mouth. You felt warm and light, with a bucket of butterflies in your tummy. You felt brave....

You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this good. ‘Lord knows it’s been months.’

Finding his large hands under the shirt you touched them and guided them to grope your naked breasts.

“Not enough, need more,” you huskily begged.

He obliged. He slid off the billiard table and picked you up like you weighed the size of a small dog.

‘God he is so strong…’

He carried you quickly to his room, it was upstairs and across from the guest room he had put you in. He barely had time to turn on his lights with how desperate you were clinging to him, kissing his neck and ear.

He laid you across the bed and bent down over you. He parted your legs and pressed himself against you.

He whispered, “Are you sure you’re okay with this? Do you want this? Because I can stop now but when my cock is inside you, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop.”

You felt your blood pumping and rushing…God, you wanted this so bad…you needed this distraction…there was only one thing stopping you…

“I…I…I’ve got no idea what I’m doing sorry.”

A wave of embarrassment caught you fast. Your hands pressed into your eyes trying to not cry.

You choked up, “Um I’ve never done this…”

You felt him move completely away and you weren’t sure if that was something you regretted saying. You felt so ashamed. You must’ve disappointed him.

He pulled your hands away from your face and with your blurry gaze you managed to see his softened face. His cheeks were pink. He laid a hand on your head and ran his thumb across your forehead.

You whimpered. The humiliation was consuming you.

“Listen to me…” he soothed, “Your kisses,” he lightly chuckled, “That told me straight away you’re not very experienced...I don’t mind. Are you a virgin? I don’t mind if you are or aren’t. I can show you, teach you what to do. I don’t want you to feel scared tonight, okay?”

It was a weight lifted from your chest. You slowly nodded and swallowed audibly.

The grin on his face grew the widest you had seen it, “Good girl.”

Your chest squeezed with warmth. He thumbed away the two sneaky tears that had escaped your eyes. His fingers then hooked the large shirt off your head. It was habit to be modest, your wrists rose up and covered your chest.

With the tick of his tongue, he playfully disapproved. His nose shoved down into your neck and you squealed with a laugh as you couldn’t hold back from his moustache rubbing against the sensitive flesh. You felt his lips smiling against you, his head shaking a little. Large hands rubbed along your back and arms, before carefully pulling your wrists away from your chest. His lips and wet tongue made your toes curl as they drifted across your collar bone and down to your chest. With small fuzzy kisses, he pecked along your breasts.

Your eyes sparkled. He was so nice…he was so safe…making sure to make this easy and fun.

His nose pressed into the underside of your tit, and he breathed in, “God you smell incredible.”

The buzz of praise rose in you.

His mouth leaned up and he looked you in the eyes as he watched his lips around your right nipple. His hand reached up and thumbed the left one.

A deep guttural moan escaped your mouth as you watched and felt his hot mouth play with your buds. When he sucked, you knew you were done for. Your hips jerked. There was no friction but the boxers and air. Your clit was making you want to cross your legs tightly. But the way you sat; your legs would not be able to close.

After what felt like hours, but you knew really were measly seconds, he detached his mouth with a loud pop and sucked at your skin down the line of your belly. He eventually got to the hem of his boxers on your hips.

He was rough and it shot electric energy through you as you felt his hands pull them down with lightning speed.

You shrieked and cupped yourself. Now this was scary…you were hairy, and you felt embarrassed for not being entirely clean.

You could smell yourself and that was humiliating. No matter how many times the doctor said nothing was wrong you or your ph levels, just weren’t entirely sure. You never smelt anyone else’s musk like that before.

His eyes widened. You almost broke into sobs then. Could he smell it too?

He didn’t wait. No, he forced your hands above your head as he pushed you completely back.

He grunted, “keep them back or I’ll tie them back.”

A voice in your head joked that you should test his theory but in the logic of your mind you accepted to obey his request.

You watched as he pushed your knees further away and his mouth pressed into your inner thigh. Your thighs trembled as you bit the inside of your cheek to stop from giggling from the tickling pricks of his face.

He groaned incredible loudly, “You’re already so wet for me? I’ve never met such a girl that could drench her thighs like this,” he lied.

His face was so close you felt his hot breath fan over your lips and clit. The sensation caused you to involuntary jerk back.

He darkly chuckled, “Now, now, we’ve barely begun.”

Without verbal warning, his mouth dove between your legs. His giant flat tongue licked you from your back entrance all the up to your slut. His hands clamped down in your rising hips. He forced your hips to stay still as he licked away at every crevice and nook.

Your eyes couldn’t stay open. Your mouth couldn’t stay quiet. You were his moaning mess.

Who would’ve thought? Your luck…crying at a bus stop became moaning in millionaire bedsheets.

He didn’t seem to care about the hair or unkept scent. You didn’t comment on your legs, or your armpits and he was eating you out like a starved man…wow…those were green flags.

You felt bold…. your hands came down and found his head of curls. Your fingers brushed and combed and lightly tugged him in.

When he looked up, he looked like he was glaring…

“S-sorry,” you whispered as you pulled back.

He shook his head and put your hand back on his head.

You smiled. God he was fucking perfect…what if this was all just a dream?

This was a happy dream. It was erasing the memory of grief. Your broken heart was mending under his care. A man you had only met today, and you were panting under him, yearning to please him for his generosity. It made you feel smaller…but you didn’t feel…guilt…. you enjoyed feeling like you were now protected, and safe…

You felt his nose press against your clit, and you choked as your lower body buzzed and shook out a small orgasm.

“f-fuck!” You whimpered.

He pulled back, his chin was glistening with your wetness.

He abruptly stood tall and gruffly commanded, “Move up a little and lay back, I’m gonna fuck you, okay?”

You nodded and felt your chest tighten with anxious excitement.

You scooted your butt back on his bed. Your knees you fought yourself to keep open as he just stared at you…he was just look at all of you, his eyes flashing around from your legs to your chest to your face.

He made you feel…worshiped. He made you feel beautiful with how unbashful he was as he stared. He pushed down his shorts and started to climb onto the mattress with you.

But what was between his legs surprisingly turned you off…

“Wait…wait Aug-August…I…I don’t think I can take that….you…ugh.”

He was prideful…he sat back on his ankle. His erection jutted to the sky. He tilted his head.

“I have fucked smaller things than you darling. I know my cock will fit.”

“B-but” you whined, “it’s – that’s gonna hurt me.”

He crawled up closer and grabbed your ankles dragging you down to him. You squeaked and looked up at him with flickers of fright… he wouldn’t hurt you, would he? He hasn’t all day. But this was a sticky situation to be in…

He rubbed his hands on your knees.

“Trust me…it won’t hurt.”

Your lips curled into your mouth. You slowly nodded…he was right, surely it won’t hurt. He did just give you lubricating oral sex…you trusted him.

He kissed you again and stole your breath away as he shifted himself forward and spat loudly into his hand. He pumped himself once, then twice and sat the silk soft tip on your clit. He dragged it down to the entrance of your pussy and pushed inside.

Your hands automatically grabbed his arms that were beside your head.

“Deep breath Y/N,” he shuddered, “c’mon be a good girl, relax your body.”

You tried your best to focus. Looking between you was a mistake; he was so huge and intimidating. You were confident he was tearing your opening.

You pressed your eyes into his wrist and tried to breath in and out.

Your skin prickles with goosebumps as you felt the walls of your inside expand.

He was widening you and making you full. Not a crevice within was not full of him.

You felt the brace of your cervix and huffed and tapped his arm. There wasn’t any way he could go further without killing you.

Your eyes started to tear up. He pulled back slightly and pushed back in, taking your breath from your chest in a light gasp. He did it again. This time he moaned now.

“You feel incredible Y/N.”

You nodded, it was hard for you to speak, you didn’t know what to even say.

He pushed in again and you lazily smiled, he was rubbing against your G-spot. Maybe it wasn’t so terrible for him to be so big?

You clenched uncontrollably and heard him hiss with pleasure.

He began to pick up the pace and rock faster inside of you.

“Yes,” you whispered, “god yes, yes, yes.”

When he chuckled, your insides shook with ultimate excitement. You gasped and let out a light moan.

His hand came between you and thumbed your clit. You had to bite your knuckle to stop from shrieking too loudly.

But he growled and tore your hand from you.

“If you scream, it better be for me,” he grunted and licked your neck before nibbling your earlobe.

Your eyes widened. His face was hard and hot with concentration and restrain. His hips rippled the bedding as he fucked you. You mewled loudly.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and moved your hips up. You thought he was hitting your cervix beforehand but surprisingly he now felt somehow deeper inside of you in a plain of pleasure. You threw your head back against the soft mattress and gutturally groaned.

You were confident you were going to cum soon. His brutal thumb kept flickering along your clit and the overstimulation of his mouth on your neck and his grunts and sighs above you finally set you into a blaze of heavenly flow.

You cummed with a silent scream. Your mouth was open and when your lungs found air, an exasperated cry escaped you. Tears fell and you moaned as you felt him continue to move until he himself froze up and sighed out his pleasure….it was when you now realised.

“Oh shit…you’re not wearing a condom.”

His eyes fluttered as he slowly pulled out and kissed your cheek.

“I’m gonna guess from the response you’re not on any pills or the shot? It’s okay I promise, I can get you some plan B. Let me clean you up first.”

It was so different to have met a man like him. He was like a unicorn in legend…he was perfect, handsome and kind.

You trusted in him.

He stood from the bed. You wouldn’t have bothered him to go grab a cloth, but your legs were lifeless. There was no way you were gonna walk on your own.

He waddled back from his master bathroom and kneeled to you. His hands spread your thighs further apart and kissed your skin. You giggled at his wiry moustache tickling your soft sweaty flesh. He took his time before cleaning you. He was staring at you. You didn’t understand why he was staring until a warm trickle poured out of your cunt…you sat up abruptly and tried to look down. You knew what it had to be…his cum…he had stuffed so much you were leaking out on his bed.

He was smirking…

He reached forward with the cloth towel. It was warm and wet on one half which he washed you with and then dried you in the other half. He stood up and said hushed, “I’ll be back.”

His lips pressed to your forehead, hot and wet.

It was maybe five minutes when he came waddling back, now totally flaccid, with a glass of water and a white tablet.

You felt bashful so nude and open on the bed. You thought about curling up in the blankets. You felt light and warm and needing a decent nap.

You looked up at him. He softly smiled.

“Open,” he whispered. Playfully you stuck out your tongue. He laid the pill flat on your pink tongue before pressing the lip of the glass to your lips. Greedily you drank down the pill. You took over the glass from him and gasped loudly when you finished it. You happily fluttered your eyes at him while he sat down on the bed beside you.

He was perfect. And yet…something didn’t sit right with you though.

“You keep…plan B in your home?”

Now that was disturbing…why couldn’t the man use a sheep skin condom? How many women does he sleep with? How old are the pills he’s keeping? How much of a playboy is he? It made you feel worthless.

All your happiness deflated. You were no longer special...you were just a number of his lays. And he took your first time…

He laughed and shook his head, “No, I don’t.”

That didn’t make sense because he just gave you a-

Your hands felt shaky. Your lips felt numb.

“Wh-what did you just give me?”

He took the glass from you before you dropped it. He put it in his side table.

“Aug-August…what was that?” You asked a little firmer, scared he didn’t hear you the first time.

“It’s plan B, right?” You started to beg.

When he didn’t answer you again, you knew something was truly wrong. It was dangerous. Your clothes were in his dryer, your bag down the hall. You were totally naked. You were totally vulnerable.

Your body was starting to experience drowsiness. Nausea was creeping in your belly. You hated this feeling.

You weakly moved down the bed. He didn’t try to stop you. He sat next to you and watched you lazily reach for and clench the borrowed t-shirt off the floor. You felt his hands pull it down your head, helping you dress. But you didn’t want his help, you wanted to know why that pill made you feel like the room was swaying even though you were sitting.

You pushed yourself on your feet and used the wall for support as you left this room. He was slowly behind you.

You knew now this was some sick game…he wasn’t watching over you to protect you, he was watching over you to toy with you.

“G-go away,” you whined as you tried to walk to the guest room to get to your bag and phone. You had been drugged and needed to call the police as soon as possible.

How could he have done this to you?!

You felt so exhausted. You heard his voice, but it was far away and you didn’t catch his words.

You finally got to the spare room but to get to the bed was a task impossible without a support wall. You slowly crouched to the floor and got to your knees. You were cold and naked and scared, but your heart was slow and relaxed by the drug. Your thoughts were racing. It was like your body wanted to be anxious but was too tired to match your thoughts.

Your fingers clenched the carpet as you crawled to the bed. Your bag felt so far away but you knew it was only two steps away.

As your hand reached for the mattress and your bag, August sat on the bed and took your phone from it. He waved it in front of your eyes and as you tried to grab it, he snatched it away.

“St-stop it,” you moaned. He laughed at you.

He shook his head and held the phone out to you, only to tear it back when you tried to grab it. He teased you. You started to cry. Frustrated and scared, you wept and felt your body giving out. Your arms fell forward, your face was pressed into the carpet.

The last thing you saw was his feet and his hand waving your phone in front of your face before your vision became black.

HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

[acetheta]

hi so idk how many doctor who nerds are familiar with aboriginal australian mythology lmaooo but ive learned about it in school a bit and as i did it seemed vv familiar

so as you (probably) know spyfall pt.2 takes part in place in australia right? well!

in aboriginal mythology there is this thing called the dreaming. the dreaming was basically this realm that was “shaped by the actions of mythical creatures”. it is this kind of in between realms, right? an other.

so that doesn’t have to be related to thr kasaavin right? well dwdw theres more,.

one of these “creatures” are known as the great fertility mothers, which basically created the first humans. i think that could relate to how the kasaavin have been around for eons. they have always been around, right? they didnt just appear one day.

now really these could be coincidences, but then u get to this idea of totemism, and tjurungas.

basically, totems would serve as agents, playing certain people in the land of the Dreaming? Look familiar?

seeing this image is what got me thinking about this, because wow ur telling me these long wooden objects connect u to another realm, one that is shaped by the actions of mythical creatures? huh. thats interesting.

lastly, the idea of the tjurunga. basically it was a ritual object, most often made of wood or stone, that represented the manifestation of a mythical being. kinda reminds me of this, yeah?

[theofreakingbell]

LWML fans who saw my other post, I GOT THE BOOK

it is in shockingly good shape for being so old. the pages feel sturdier than some modern paperbacks. It belonged to someone named Mildred in 1893 (inscrbed). thanks for the book, ma'am.  

it also has a sticker indicating it was sold in Australia at some point before ending up back in England (and then on to me in California)

my theory was partly right and partly not. While the book is deeply mistaken about many things it was actually very mixed about Loki, there is no one central page calling him evil. I find it super interesting they chose to include the Loka Tattur, a Faroese story where he is very kind, and theorise about why he may have been seen differently over time. there IS one page that makes him sound like a ticking time bomb though which I have included below as I think it resembles the book the most, in addition to a few other interesting sections about Loki that I found in the book, true or not. 

there's random lil illunstrations of birds and stuff throughout to decorate the pages it's adorable. illustrations in general are very cool, however this is not a good norse mythos book overall and author is WAY too happy veering into race science at random and using the word Aryan and stuff, so please do not use this book as a source. lol

EXCERPTS AND IMAGES BELOW

From the gods profiles section

Loki, the father of terrible Hel, the Fenris-Wolf and Midgard-Snake; Loki, the crafty god who is ever devising evil, now steals forward that we may observe his corrupt practices and his real character. In primeval times he was Odin's brother by blood, the god of life-giving warmth, and in particular of the indispensable household fire. As a destructive conflagration arises from a hidden spark which gradually increases in strength and volume, until at last it bursts out furiously and consumes the house and all that it contains, thus, as we shall show later on, the conception of Loki was developed in the minds of these old races, until he was at last held to be the corrupter of the gods, the principle of evil."

From a section on the different mythological races

"The first divine trilogy given us was that of the sons of Bör, ie.

Odin, Wili and We; and these correspond to the elements, air, water and fire. The last of the three gave the newly created human beings blood and blooming complexion; he was therefore a beneficent god. Nevertheless he was also represented as a giant in the trilogy Kari, Ögir, and Logi, another form of air, sea and fire. That he belonged to the race of giants is proved from further evidence, by which it appears that his father was the giant Far-bauti (oarsman), and his mother the giantess Laufey (leafy isle), the former of whom was perhaps the giant who saved himself from the flood in a boat, and the latter, the island to which he rowed.

At the beginning Loki was a helpful and a great god, as the pretty Faroe-island song of the Peasant and the Giant shows. He was not regarded as the principle of evil, until he had been completely separated from the element to which he belonged, and had been developed into an independent personality. The idea of the destructive power of fire was equally connected with the giant Muspel, but he never showed himself as an active agent of harm.

His sons, the flames, alone threatened evil in Glow-heim or Muspel-heim, and finally mustered in great force for the Last Battle on the field of Wigrid."

Musings and biography after the Loka Tattur

"The above story is still told on the Faroe Islands, and in fuller detail than we have been enabled to give it. It shows us an important fact, that Loki was not always looked upon as the principle of evil, as the enemy of gods and men.

Originally he was the god of the indispensable household fire, the god of the beneficent, kindly hearth; therefore he regularly appears in the trinity: thus the sons of the primeval giant Ymir were called Kari (air), Ogir or Her (water), and Logi (fire); and similarly on the creation of mankind the trinity appears, Odin, Hönir and Lodur. Loki also accompanied Odin and Hönir on their travels to the giant Thiassi.

The father of Loki was Farbauti and his mother was Laufey (leafy isle). The former was probably the same as Bergel-mir, the giant who escaped drowning in the Deluge by taking refuge in a boat, as another name for his mother was Nal, ship. Logi, the element of fire, was distinctly separated from Loki, for we saw that when in the balls of Skyrnir or Utgard Loki, the two were rivals in a wager as to which could consume the greater quantity of food in a given time. At first Loki was held in high honour as the giver of warmth and god of the domestic hearth, and was looked upon as the brother of Odin and Hönir, for the elements air, water and fire are intimately connected. He therefore belonged to the Ases, sat in their council, and often helped them out of difficulties by means of his cunning. As fire is not always the friend of man, but is also the element of destruction, the Loki of the myth developed ever more and more the dark side of his character. He showed himself as a cunning adviser, a false, traitorous comrade, and lastly as the murderer of all that was pure and holy. He destroyed innocence and righteousness, became the blasphemer of the Ases or their evil conscience; and although he received immediate punishment for his wickedness, he yet succeeded in bringing about the universal destruction.

The name Loki has been derived from the old word "liuhan," to enlighten. It therefore has the same origin as the Latin lux, light. Thus he was also related to Lucifer (light-bringer), a title of honour which was given to the Prince of Darkness. In like manner as the northern tempter was chained to a sharp rock, Lucifer was believed in the middle ages to be chained down in hell. Saxo Grammaticus describes his Utgarthlocus (Utgard-Loki as laden with chains in Helheim, which proves that the myth of Loki and his punishment was believed long after the Christian era.

As has been said before, Loki had three wicked children by the giantess Angurboda (bringer of anguish), Fenris, Hel and Jörmungander. But he also had a lawful wife, the faithful Sigyn, who brought him two sons, Wali and Narwi, and who remained with him during all the misery his punishment brought upon him. He had no servants or subjects, for the Salamanders or Fire-spirits which played a part in Roman and Oriental mythology were unknown in the north. But he had other mighty relations, namely Surtur of the Flaming Sword and the sons of Muspel, who helped him in the Last Battle when he had got rid of his bonds. The Dwarfs and Black-Elves that needed fire for their labours were in alliance with him, but were not subservient to him; indeed, as we have already seen, they were often his enemies.

Apologies for any errors, I am very sensorily disabled and was unable to read the book in full or take more pictures. But yeah here is a book that would have existed for Theo and Loki to read!

(the entire book is also available for free as a pdf if u want to look at it on archive.org here. again, do not use as a source lol given the problems but it was fun to look at)

[miasiegert]

Hi Cats Tumblr People,

So I heard you like pics.

Please bear with me (AND TEACH ME) how Tumblr works/if I'm doing it wrong! I'm literally the "How do you do, fellow young people?" meme. Our Etsy is linked (unless I messed that up!) Right now it's bare (LOT of work and VERY old photos in the banner) but we'll be posting some cossies soon that are ready to retire. Some of our prices sadly will have to rise (we undercharge honestly for the amount of time put into them... we just LOVE making them). Anyway...

These are our original designs. We have taken inspiration from different productions, from the US tour to Gothenburg to Australia to Japan, less UK because it gets the most attention and we like COLOR! but this is all us. Our goal is to a) have characters be recognizable and b) make swing unitards in palates that could pass as at least 3 characters for emergency. When our rentals go out, swing unitards go with them, and ultimately it's the director who decides what makes the final cut (so a less yellow Demeter for example--but we LOVE that one).

If we ever do a production of Cats with Chaz, you'll notice one in Red, White, and some Black (but mostly Red and White, with fan ears, that is a design David created and is Chaz's FAVORITE design of all time. Any time he does a show, if we're hired, that costume goes. Usually Electra, but any ensemble/swing kitty and can cover for Sillabub or in a pinch Bombalurina. Yuka wore it at Interlakes before she did Victoria on the last US Tour! You might notice an Admetus in tans and GREEN undertones--that was my design he loved. We also did the purple twins (which was vetoed and I said, "Okay" then did it anyway because I knew he'd love it, which he did!), and REBA Gumbie Tap Suit was completely mine (everyone thought I was out of my MIND when I started making it! Even David! Then the shoulder pads came, and the belt, and tail, and BEDAZZLING!!! SO MANY RHINESTONES!!!!) Our Misto coat lights up but we still have a lot to learn about arduino since we'd eventually like to make it blink to music. The Misto coat is also created to fit a multitude of sizes, basically the theatre using their department for alterations since we make use of stretch fabric. I've known Bronson for almost as long as Chaz (he even designed my author website!!!) so when I saw him cast, I showed him his costume (a much, much browner/redder Gus than most see--I was serious about liking color) and let him choose between two coats. He said he wanted pants and we went, "NO! PANTLESS PRODUCTION!" because we thought he was joking! We didn't realize... HE REALLY WANTED PANTS!!!! SORRY BRONSON! So shout out to Wichita for making him pants! LOL!

There is a HUGE joke about Tumble thirsting for Tugger more than the girls so you'll notice that with the Tugger ABOUUUOUOUOUOUOUOUUUUUUUUUT THAT.

Hope that's of interest! And no, I'm not procrastinating on edits when my agent deadline is Sunday. Haha... ha... ha... ha... ha... Sera, if you're reading this I PROMISE I'M WORKING OKAY??? I DIDN'T KNOW WE GOT ON BROADWAYWORLD!!!

We also saw some comments about casting in general and some confusion/questions about different dancers doing different parts (Alonzo vs Plato). Would anyone be interested in learning more about the casting process in general and things that directors/choreographers need to take into consideration? Please note, I will not discuss ANY performers we work with. Ever. All are extraordinary and these are tough calls that aren't easy to make and based on other factors, including the ensemble at large, and sometimes huge changes are made.

[louisupdates]

The Habit He Can’t Break 4/4

IQ 123 | Gordon Masson | 9.11.2023

If I Could Fly

With the production traveling to Australia, in early 2024, before shifting to Latin America, Andy Lovell at Freight Minds is gearing up to become involved with Tomlinson once again.

“We did the Central and South America dates on the tour last year, and onto Mexico,” says Lovell. “It was very challenging back then as we were still coming back from Covid, and various systems and infrastructure were in pieces. But it all went well in the end, as we kept an eye on things and worked on it every day to make sure we had solutions to everything that was thrown our way.”

Lovell continues, “Things on this tour kick in early next year for us. Historically, Australian services were quite reliable, as we could use any number of airlines. But post-pandemic, the number of long-haul flights still aren’t as frequent as they were. As a result, the production is being reverse engineered with the budget being worked out before we can see what we can afford to take as freight, and then we try to plan accordingly.”

“Similarly, in Central and South America there are still just a fraction of the flights operating, compared to pre-Covid, so that makes it very challenging. If there aren’t the flights to handle the gear, then you have to start looking at chartering aircraft, or alter your schedule, and that can become very expensive, very fast.”

With everyone working on the artist’s behalf to make sure the tour remains on track, being able to call on such experienced production experts is paying off on a daily basis.

Sherwood notes, “There are a few back-to-back shows over long distances that occasionally mean we don’t arrive at the next venue until 11 AM, rather than 6 AM. But we’ve never failed anywhere to open the doors on time, so we know we’re capable of getting things done, even if we have a late start at mid-day.”

Such dilemmas are not lost on agent Rowland. “It’s not so much the routing, it’s more like the timings, because Louis does have two support acts, so the shows start at 7 o’clock, and then when we’re done, we need to load out to get to the next show in good time for loading in the next morning and soundchecks, etc.”

Nevertheless, Sherwood admits that he loves the trickier venues and schedules. “Because I’m a dinosaur, I relish anything that makes things difficult or awkward for us on the production side of things,” he says. “I think everyone on the crew looks forward to challenges in finding the solutions to problems.”

Common People

Having amassed millions of fans through his association with One Direction, Tomlinson very much has a ‘pay it forward’ attitude to music and is building a reputation as a champion for emerging talent, wherever he performs.

“He’s a great advocate for alternative music,” says manager Vines. “Louis realizes he’s in an incredibly privileged position in terms of what he can create in terms of awareness. He loves alternative music and indie music, and he understands how hard it is for that music to be heard. But we have this amazing platform where we can put these bands in front of these audiences as a showcase that allows them to build these authentic new audiences. It’s a huge part of his love of music, wanting to help younger bands.”

Rowland agrees. “He took an act called Andrew Cushin - a very new artist – on the road in America with him as a support, and he’s doing the same for Europe. Louis is a fan and is championing his career.”

Indeed, Tomlinson’s A&R skills have knock-on effects for his agent, too. “He asked me to confirm the Australian band Pacific Avenue as support for his Australian tour last year. The music was great, and they didn’t have an agent, so now I’m representing them,” says Rowland.

Perfect Now

As the European tour speeds towards its conclusion, agent Rowland is enjoying every minute of it.

“It’s incredible – they’ve really stepped things up,” she says, fresh from seeing the show in Athens and Paris. “They’ve got six hanging LED screens on the stage, and the whole production just looks polished and professional.”

And Rowland is especially excited about next year’s Latin America dates, which will deliver her first stadium shows as an agent. 

“The return to Latin America is going to be huge – Louis is playing arenas and stadiums in South America and Mexico 15 shows across 11 countries,” she says. 

Vines is similarly enthused. Harking back to the Covid situation, when the show would go on sale, sell out, be postponed, and then re-scheduled in a bigger venue, Vines says, “For example, in Chile, originally the show was scheduled at a 5,000-cap, half-capacity arena in Santiago. And what we ended up doing with three nights at 10,000-cap in that same venue.”

Vines contends that Tomlinson’s work ethic is outstanding. “He loves his fans, and he loves performing for them, it’s as simple as that,” he says. “He just loves being on the road and seeing how the songs connect live. In fact, the second album was very much written with the tour and live shows in mind – ‘This song could work live,’ ‘This one will open the set,’ ‘This is the one we can do for the encore.’”

Fearless

Another element to Tomlinson’s psyche has been his decision to visit places off the usual tour circuit.

“Louis has a real desire to perform to fans in markets that are often overlooked,” says Rowland.

Manager Vines explains that while the Covid-delayed first tour allowed them to upgrade venues pretty much everywhere, “On this tour, we are a bit more competent on venue sizes, but we still speculate a little bit in different territories. In Europe, for example, we’ve gone into the Baltics in a number of different places to test the markets there, while in America, we’re looking at A and B markets, but also tertiary market as well – we go to places where people just don’t tour in America, just to see what the reaction is. That was something that very much interested Louis - to play in front of people who don’t normally have gigs in their town. So there’s been a lot of experimentation on the tour in terms of where we go and what room to play.”

That concept is something that Vines has employed before. “I manage a band called Hurts, who were pretty much overlooked by the British radio system, and we have spent 15 years building a business outside of the UK. And that was built on going to play at those places where people didn’t normally go. They built to multiple arena level in Russia, for instance.”

“If you can build fanbases in lots of different places, you have festivals that you can play every summer, as well as touring those places. It allows you to have more consistency over a number of years, by having more opportunities.”

Such a strategy found a convert in Tomlinson. Vines tells IQ, “Louis also is extremely fan-focused in everything that he does. He comes at it from a perspective of ‘I want to take the show to them,’ meaning he’s always more willing to take the risky option to try something out.”

And the result? “It’s a combination,” concludes Vines. “There have been a couple of places where we now understand why tours don’t go there. But there are more places where it’s worked incredibly well. For example, we enjoyed incredibly good sales in Budapest. And overall, it’s allowing us to get a clearer idea, globally, of where the demand is, which will help us when we go into the next tour cycle.”

1/4, 2/4, 3/4

[barkingbonzo]

Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons

Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons, often shortened to Captain Scarlet, is a British science fiction television series created by Gerry and Sylvia Anderson and filmed by their production company Century 21 Productions for distributor ITC Entertainment. It is one of several Anderson series that were filmed using a form of electronic marionette puppetry dubbed "Supermarionation" combined with scale model special effects sequences. Running to thirty-two 25-minute episodes, it was first broadcast on ITV regional franchises between 1967 and 1968 and has since been transmitted in more than 40 other countries, including the United States, Canada, Australia, New Zealand and Japan.

Set in 2068, Captain Scarlet follows the "war of nerves" between Earth and the Mysterons, a race of Martians who possess partial control over matter. When a misunderstanding, causes human astronauts to attack their city on Mars, the Mysterons vow revenge and launch reprisals against Earth. These are countered by Spectrum, a worldwide security organisation. In the first episode, Spectrum agent Captain Scarlet acquires the Mysterons' self-healing power of "retrometabolism" and is thus rendered "indestructible", being able to recover from otherwise fatal injuries. In this way, Scarlet becomes Spectrum's top asset in its fight against the Mysterons.

[arklay]

RESIDENT EVIL → THE WESKER FAMILY

To the public, little is known of the families behind some of the world’s most renowned bioterrorists, but the question remains: did they play a role in causing their children to walk down the path that they did? Or are these individuals simply ambitious criminals with delusions of grandeur?

For Diana Wesker (née Afanasyeva), her introduction into the bioweapons black market trade was upon discovering her employers were using her research into limb regeneration with salamanders to further their experiments in creating enhanced soldiers, instead of developing human therapies with which she was recruited for. Although the prospect of using biological weapons in the military did not appeal to her, the concept remained fascinating for her own selfish endeavours. Born on the 27th of October, 1963 in Sydney, Australia to Russian immigrant parents, Diana had harsh expectations placed upon her at a young age, ones that no matter how hard she tried she could never live up to. Her mother, Tatyana, was an unfeeling woman, absent for long stretches of time with little regard to how it affected her daughters, much more concerned with her craft as an accomplished opera singer. Viktor was no better. A strict man whose role as father and ballet master blurred, he pushed his girls to one day follow in his footsteps. Whilst Sofia enjoyed ballet, and went on to become a professional ballet dancer, Diana’s heart was set on going into the field of biology. She wished to make a name for herself, separate from her family – to which she succeeded.

Diana was married to former U.S. Marine, Dave Monroe, for only a year until he was declared dead in 1992 after succumbing to injuries sustained in a horrific car accident. Foul play was ruled out while Diana played the role of the grief-stricken widow, but in reality, she had snapped after years of mistreatment at her husband’s hands, and opted for something she could pass off as an accident to be free of him. For years she believed he was dead – and he was, legally – but that proved to not be the case when he found his way back into her life again in 1999. Unbeknownst to her, she had been lied to by the police and coroner, who were paid off by her employers when they took Dave’s body for themselves and used him as one of their first test subjects in developing supersoldiers. Before he could ever hurt her again, Diana’s second husband, Albert Wesker, tracked the man down, captured him and tortured him, before allowing Diana to get her violent and bloody revenge.

The origins of Albert Wesker’s involvement in bioterrorism, alongside his twin sister, Alex, are much different than that of Diana’s. The two hail from London, Canada, but unfortunately, they hold no memories of their lives there, nor what happened to their biological parents when they were eight years old. Agents of Oswell E. Spencer, an aristocratic billionaire and eugenicist, took the twins from their home and executed their parents as per Spencer’s orders. Albert and Alex were then placed in a home funded by the Spencer Foundation where they were given new names and a privileged upbringing. They had access to the best education possible, free to pursue whichever field they decided, but it was by no accident they both went into virology and bioengineering; at home, their adoptive parents – agents whom they believed to be their real parents – instilled them with the beliefs of Oswell E. Spencer, harbouring disdain for war and pestilence, and believing humans to be an evolutionary dead-end in need of a rebirth. They were only two of the hundreds of children “adopted” as part of what is known as Project W, a plan intended to develop an advanced race of human beings. The most promising candidates were headhunted by Umbrella Pharmaceuticals, the twins amongst them, where they went on to create bioweapons for the company founded by none other than the man who had handpicked them for his plan. The final stage of this was to infect the thirteen Spencer saw fit, however, only two survived; Albert received the intended effects, now possessing superhuman abilities, however, Alex was only offered more time to live due to her terminal degenerative illness.

In the summer of 1995, Diana was working undercover within Umbrella to gather development data on their projects for her company. Here, she had a chance encounter with Albert, an intelligence officer at the time, which permanently altered the course of her life. The two were never seen far from one another’s side, marrying in 1998, and they went on to become notorious in the bioweapons industry. The development of the Uroboros virus was where things took a turn for the worst. Although Diana’s infection was successful and she bore abilities that rivalled her husband’s, the plan itself did not succeed as they had hoped, and almost cost Albert his life at the hands of his former subordinates.

Now, they work within the shadows, with Diana declared missing and Albert believed to be dead. Their legacy, however, lives on with the mark they left on the world. As visionaries in their field, they influenced bioterror attacks carried out by countless individuals and organisations. In turn, they also inspired others to fight against such atrocities. One such person happens to be Albert’s son from a former relationship, Jake Müller, whose existence he was unaware of.

[rockislandadultreads]

Read-Alike Friday: Killers of the Flower Moon by David Grann

Killers of the Flower Moon by David Grann

In the 1920s, the richest people per capita in the world were members of the Osage Indian Nation in Oklahoma. After oil was discovered beneath their land, the Osage rode in chauffeured automobiles, built mansions, and sent their children to study in Europe.

Then, one by one, they began to be killed off. One Osage woman, Mollie Burkhart, watched as her family was murdered. Her older sister was shot. Her mother was then slowly poisoned. And it was just the beginning, as more Osage began to die under mysterious circumstances.

In this last remnant of the Wild West—where oilmen like J. P. Getty made their fortunes and where desperadoes such as Al Spencer, “the Phantom Terror,” roamed – virtually anyone who dared to investigate the killings were themselves murdered. As the death toll surpassed more than twenty-four Osage, the newly created F.B.I. took up the case, in what became one of the organization’s first major homicide investigations. But the bureau was then notoriously corrupt and initially bungled the case. Eventually the young director, J. Edgar Hoover, turned to a former Texas Ranger named Tom White to try to unravel the mystery. White put together an undercover team, including one of the only Native American agents in the bureau. They infiltrated the region, struggling to adopt the latest modern techniques of detection. Together with the Osage they began to expose one of the most sinister conspiracies in American history.

Covered with Night by Nicole Eustace

The Pulitzer Prize-winning history that transforms a single event in 1722 into an unparalleled portrait of early America.

In the winter of 1722, on the eve of a major conference between the Five Nations of the Haudenosaunee (also known as the Iroquois) and Anglo-American colonists, a pair of colonial fur traders brutally assaulted a Seneca hunter near Conestoga, Pennsylvania. Though virtually forgotten today, the crime ignited a contest between Native American forms of justice―rooted in community, forgiveness, and reparations―and the colonial ideology of harsh reprisal that called for the accused killers to be executed if found guilty.

In Covered with Night, historian Nicole Eustace reconstructs the attack and its aftermath, introducing a group of unforgettable individuals―from the slain man’s resilient widow to an Indigenous diplomat known as “Captain Civility” to the scheming governor of Pennsylvania―as she narrates a remarkable series of criminal investigations and cross-cultural negotiations. Taking its title from a Haudenosaunee metaphor for mourning, Covered with Night ultimately urges us to consider Indigenous approaches to grief and condolence, rupture and repair, as we seek new avenues of justice in our own era.

Return to Uluru by Mark McKenna

A killing. A hidden history. A story that goes to the heart of the nation.

When Mark McKenna set out to write a history of the centre of Australia, he had no idea what he would discover. One event in 1934 – the shooting at Uluru of Aboriginal man Yokununna by white policeman Bill McKinnon, and subsequent Commonwealth inquiry – stood out as a mirror of racial politics in the Northern Territory at the time.

But then, through speaking with the families of both killer and victim, McKenna unearthed new evidence that transformed the historical record and the meaning of the event for today. As he explains, ‘Every thread of the story connected to the present in surprising ways.’ In a sequence of powerful revelations, McKenna explores what truth-telling and reconciliation look like in practice.

Return to Uluru brings a cold case to life. It speaks directly to the Black Lives Matter movement, but is completely Australian. Recalling Chloe Hooper’s The Tall Man, it is superbly written, moving, and full of astonishing, unexpected twists. Ultimately it is a story of recognition and return, which goes to the very heart of the country. At the centre of it all is Uluru, the sacred site where paths fatefully converged.

Yellow Bird by Sierra Crane Murdoch

When Lissa Yellow Bird was released from prison in 2009, she found her home, the Fort Berthold Indian Reservation in North Dakota, transformed by the Bakken oil boom. In her absence, the landscape had been altered beyond recognition, her tribal government swayed by corporate interests, and her community burdened by a surge in violence and addiction. Three years later, when Lissa learned that a young white oil worker, Kristopher "KC" Clarke, had disappeared from his reservation worksite, she became particularly concerned. No one knew where Clarke had gone, and few people were actively looking for him.

Yellow Bird traces Lissa's steps as she obsessively hunts for clues to Clarke's disappearance. She navigates two worlds - that of her own tribe, changed by its newfound wealth, and that of the non-Native oilmen, down on their luck, who have come to find work on the heels of the economic recession. Her pursuit of Clarke is also a pursuit of redemption, as Lissa atones for her own crimes and reckons with generations of trauma.

[justforbooks]

In the 1960s, there was one actor who could justifiably claim that ladies prefer blonds. As the secret agent Illya Kuryakin in the TV series The Man from UNCLE, David McCallum, who has died aged 90, received more fan mail from young women than any other actor in MGM’s history.

With his Beatles-style haircut, his liking for black turtleneck sweaters (which created a fad among viewers nationwide), and an aloof and enigmatic air, through which he sneaked a fair amount of charm and self-amusement, McCallum made Kuryakin into a sex symbol of the period. He provided a trendy contrast to Robert Vaughn’s Napoleon Solo, his fellow spy, who went in for expensive suits and ties.

Although Solo and Kuryakin worked perfectly in tandem, their personalities were at variance, the former being urbane, easygoing and sociable, the latter more reserved, intellectual and intense.

The James Bond film craze had already taken off when The Man from UNCLE series was launched in 1964, so US audiences were used to laidback heroes and their villainous nemeses. However, it was surprising to find a hip Russian alongside the good guys of United Network Command for Law and Enforcement fighting against the evil organisation THRUSH (an acronym for Technological Hierarchy for the Removal of Undesirables and the Subjugation of Humanity), during the cold war.

McCallum, who played Illya with the slightest Russian accent and an occasional Scottish lilt, was also known recently for his long-running role from 2003 in the popular CBS crime series NCIS.

He was born in Glasgow. His parents were classical musicians; his mother, Dorothy Dorman, a cellist, his father, David McCallum, a violinist and leader of the London Philharmonic Orchestra. McCallum Jr won a scholarship to University College school in Hampstead, north London, before being accepted at Rada, where he studied from 1949 to 1951, having given up his ambition, and his parents’ wish, to play the oboe professionally.

In 1951, McCallum managed to satisfy his love for both music and the theatre by landing the position of assistant stage manager at Glyndebourne opera. However, he was called up to do his national service in West Africa. Demobbed as a lieutenant, the 19-year-old McCallum headed for the theatre, which mainly meant stage-management jobs in rep.In 1956, he half-heartedly posted off some photographs of himself to the Rank Organisation, which was scouting for young talent. The photos were seen by Clive Donner, who was casting his first feature, The Secret Place (1957), and he invited McCallum to do a reading.

“Although he was nervous, his voice was firm, and he was very good,” Donner recalled. “I sat and looked at him for a long time. He was very skinny, with a marvellous head and huge eyes. I think he was living in a bedsit in Archway at that time and had little money. We put him under contract straight away.”

Obviously under the influence of James Dean, the leather-jacketed McCallum, playing a young punk involved in a heist, does his best to express teenage angst. In Cy Endfield’s gritty thriller Hell Drivers (1957), McCallum plays Stanley Baker’s brother, on crutches as a result of a crime. In the cast, as a waitress, was 20-year-old Jill Ireland. McCallum and Ireland were to marry a few months before the film’s release. Soon after, they played young lovers in Robbery Under Arms (1957), an adventure shot mostly in Australia. At that time, the couple were often pictured together in fan magazines.

It was back to British realism with Basil Dearden’s Violent Playground (1958), in which McCallum plays a juvenile delinquent gang-leader. Despite a mite too posh an accent, he makes a vivid impression with his drawn features and mop of fair hair.

There followed several more conventional supporting roles, such as radio operators, first on the Titanic in A Night to Remember (1958), and a jumpy one in an Elstree-studio Burmese jungle in the second world war drama The Long and the Short and the Tall (1961). He was even more nervy in John Huston’s Freud (1962) as one of the first of the psychoanalyst’s patients, a young man who assaulted his father because of an incestuous love for his mother.

After appearing as a sympathetic officer in Peter Ustinov’s Billy Budd (1962), McCallum went to Germany to make John Sturges’s The Great Escape (1963), the most expensive PoW picture of them all. Among a starry cast, headed by Steve McQueen, James Garner and Charles Bronson, McCallum held his own among the Brits as Eric Ashley-Pitt – “Dispersal – who devises a way of getting rid of dirt from the digging of an escape tunnel. But more significant for him was the fact that Ireland, who was with him during the shoot, fell for Bronson. Ireland and McCallum divorced; he later married Katherine Carpenter, while Ireland married Bronson.

McCallum, who was already making his principal career on television, was given the secondary role of Kuryakin in The Man from UNCLE, but was soon granted equal billing with Vaughn after it rapidly became clear that he had a huge fanbase. Alma Cogan recorded a song called Love Ya, Illya, which became a pirate-radio hit in Britain in 1966, and as late as 1991, an Argentinian funk duo named themselves Illya Kuryaki and the Valderramas, after McCallum’s character and the Colombian football player Carlos Valderrama.

The first feature-film spin-off from the TV series, To Trap a Spy (1965), in which McCallum had a minor role, did little business. But the second one, The Spy With My Face, co-starring McCallum, really lifted off, followed by the box-office hits One of Our Spies Is Missing, One Spy Too Many and The Spy in the Green Hat (all 1966), and How to Steal the World (1968).

After The Man from UNCLE finished in 1968, McCallum continued to make guest appearances on TV until his second long-running series, the BBC’s Colditz (1972-74), in which he played Flt Lt Simon Carter, a hot-headed RAF officer who is impatient to escape.

Subsequently, McCallum appeared and disappeared as a scientist in The Invisible Man (1975-76), a US TV production, and co-starred with Joanna Lumley in ATV’s spooky sci-fi series Sapphire and Steel (1979-82) as the eponymous extra-dimensional detectives sent to Earth to monitor threats to the time-stream.

McCallum was seldom off television screens over the next three decades, making the occasional sortie into films. He also did some theatre in New York, where he and his wife had settled, notably Julius Caesar in a Central Park production (2000), playing the title role as “a senile old man, suffering from ideas of grandeur” according to the actor; and portraying the Emperor Joseph II on Broadway in Peter Hall’s revival of Amadeus (1999-2000).

In 2003, his looks belying his age, McCallum began playing Dr Donald “Ducky” Mallard, chief medical examiner, in the TV series NCIS, following the cases of the fictional agents of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. His research for the part included studying pathology and sitting in on autopsies. He stayed with the show for the rest of his life, appearing in all 20 seasons up until this year. In one episode, a character asks another what Ducky looked like when he was younger. “Illya Kuryakin” comes the reply.

McCallum is survived by Katherine, their son, Peter, and daughter, Sophie, and by his sons Val and Paul from his first marriage; Jason, his third son with Ireland, died in 1989.

🔔 David Keith McCallum, actor; born 19 September 1933; died 25 September 2023

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[niabang]

The Summer it Came True

Previous chapter & summary

Next chapter

Chapter 2

Pairing: Bangchan × black female reader named Kel

Word Count: 1489

I had to do some research for this since I don't live in Australia and it was interesting finding out that summer in Australia starts in December.

More under the cut!

You were in your beach home alone during summer, stuck at your desk working from dusk till dawn. Pathetic.

But you couldn't stop working. You had to create designs for a new collection the company was going to launch early next year, and nothing you drew seemed to be what you envisioned. The creative juices weren't flowing for some reason, but it was December, and you had to have designs ready by the end of the month.

You stayed in your mini office all day, tearing up papers, crumpling them up into balls, and eventually throwing them away. Why couldn't you get it right? You decided to call the one friend you had, which was CJ, for advice. Yes, CJ, the supermodel who was always on the cover of vogue magazines.

You guys got close after he was hired to style one of your collections, and it turns out you were the same age and had a lot in common. You instantly hit it off, and you've been kind of inseparable ever since.

The phone rang, but no one answered, which was kind of expected since it was summer and he'd be getting gigs left and right. He was probably getting on a plane leaving Australia as we speak.

You put on a hoodie and a face mask and decided to go out for a drive to clear my head (you didn't want to get approached by a rando on the street asking if they could get free clothes), and that was when you saw the building that made you remember him. The stadium he was going to perform in in a few weeks was just a few minutes' drive from your beach house. How convenient.

You wanted to see him again. You wanted to see him again and ask him why he left for years without letting you know.

You wanted to know why he was the reason you were never happy in any of your attempted relationships. Part of you hated him for it, but another part wanted to see him and embrace him in a tight hug. You missed him.

As you were driving, you decided to stop by a few stores to get a few things, so you found yourself in this mini mart getting Lays chips. It was just you and the cashier in there, which was reasonable since it was almost midnight.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw someone else enter the store. This person was dressed in all black. Black hoodie, black shorts, black shoes and socks, black hat, and even a black face mask. You were kind of twinning, but at least you had some colour on you and didn't look like you were going to pull out a gun out of your back pocket at any moment.

That was honestly kind of scary to you because why would someone dressed as a black ops agent be wandering around at this time of the night.

You decided it was time for you to get going so you turned the other way to avoid bumping into black ops guy but you probably didn't think before you acted or even look properly to see where they were in the store and before you could make any sudden movements you bumped into something hard and your chips were scattered across the floor.

"I'm so sorry, let me help you." The person dressed in all black said to you.

Oh, so it was a guy... Why did his voice kind of sound familiar? He kind of sounded like- no, it can't be, there's no way. You quickly brushed those stupid thoughts out of your head.

"No, don't be. I was the one who wasn't looking where I was going. I should be the one saying sorry." You replied.

As you bent down to pick up your multiple bags of chips, he bent down along with you to help, and all it took was a brief moment for your eyes to meet for all chaos to ensue.

"Kel?" He said with a shocked look on his face. It was HIM. He was the only one who called you Kel. Other people called you Kelly. He started calling you after your forced playdate at the beach. He said Kelly was too tasking of a name to say all the time, and anytime you saw each other after that, it was always "Hi Kel." You acted like you hated it, but you never wanted him to stop calling you that. What was he doing here? And why now?

"CHAN?!"

You said at the top of your lungs, and he quickly made the "shh" sign with his index finger. Boy, it was only the two of us in this store, and you're shushing me for what? You said to yourself.

"Why- What are you doing here?" You stumbled over my words a bit.

"You don't seem too happy to see me after how long has it been exactly? Thirteen years?" He had now pulled down his mask so you could see his face. God, he was beautiful.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think I was supposed to jump in your arms after you left without a trace for thirteen years." You snapped back.

He looked kind of hurt after you said that, and you yourself didn't know where your sudden vocal confidence was coming from because you were shaking like a wet dog under your hoodie.

"When you put it that way... It was honestly kind of an ass move. I'm sorry, but in my defence, I signed a contract. I wasn't allowed to let anyone except my family know that I was leaving." He defended himself.

You had now both gotten up from the floor of the store, and the fallen bags of chips were long forgotten as you engaged each other in conversation.

"The K-pop industry is really secretive, isn't it?" The sentence had already left my mouth before you could realise what you had just said.

"Yes, it is... Wait, how did you know?" Great, now you looked like a maniacal stalker who was keeping tabs on him for the past thirteen years.

"I saw you on TV last month when you announced your tour with your group. I was shocked, to say the least. And why are you shocked that I know who you are? Isn't that like the whole point of being a celebrity?"

He stood there in silence watching you speak with a cocked eyebrow like you were saying things that made absolutely no sense.

"What?" You asked him. The expression on his face made you question if you were saying proper sentences or just yapping nonsense the whole time.

"Nothing, you just look so different. I would have barely recognised you if it wasn't for mini Kel."

"Mini Kel." You chucked a bit at the name. You hadn't heard that in ages. That was what he called the mole you had on the outer corner of your right eye. You always hated that mole and planned to remove it when you got older, but after he gave it that nickname, it was one of the things you loved most about my facial features.

"Are you two buying anything? I have to lock up shop. It's past midnight." The cashier's loud voice knocked you out of your little daydream, and you suddenly remembered your poor little chip bags that were sprawled on the floor.

"Oh yes, I am. Sorry for keeping you waiting. Let me just pick these up from the floor." You picked up your chips and made your way to the pay point. Chan met you there with a canned drink in his hand and you both paid for your stuff and left the building.

As you got outside, it felt weird you guys just going our separate ways after our little reunion, so you decided to strike up a conversation even though all you wanted to do was get into your car and scream.

"So what brings you here if tour doesn't start till next year?" You asked the burning question in your mind.

"The boys and I were all given individual breaks to go spend summer and Christmas with our families before we start travelling around the world." He explained to you.

You didn't end up talking for that long, but the conversation ended with you guys exchanging numbers, and as you were saving his number, you saw that you still had his old number saved. You were really down bad for this man to still have his number saved after 13 years of him being Μ.Ι.Α.

You parted ways, and you drove home that night, smiling to yourself. You still had feelings for this man after 13 years. How did this make any sense?

You didn't know the journey you were in for over the course of the next few weeks.

[reddest-flower]

The Communist International struggled to balance the needs of its European members with the members from the countries colonized by Europe. The former represented the countries of the colonizers. They had to fight in their own societies to build organizations of the working class and other allied classes at the same time as they were charged with driving an anti-colonial agenda. The Comintern’s attempt to get them to hold a Colonial Conference spluttered. It was difficult to find out what these European communists – seen as a pipeline to the colonies – were doing in terms of practical work to build alliances between workers in their countries and in the colonies. These European communists found it difficult to work amongst workers in their countries who had been dominated by a labour aristocracy that was often pro-imperialist. It was not easy to push a double agenda – for the rights of the European workers and for the workers and peasants in the colonies. No such difficulty lay in the colonies – from Indo-China to the Gold Coast of Africa. But other difficulties haunted communists in the colonies. They found it difficult to create a precise framework to work with the bourgeois nationalists who also hated colonial rule but who had no problem with capitalism. These contradictions dampened the work of the Comintern. Nonetheless, it was through the Comintern that trade unionists and revolutionary nationalists from one end of the world found out about the work of their peers on the other side. The infrastructure of global communism was created by the Comintern activists, who travelled from one end of China to the other end of Mexico to meet with socialists, anarchists, syndicalists, rebels of all kinds to urge them towards unity with the Communist movement.

Papers such as The Negro Worker allowed unionists across the continents to keep up with each other and to experience the unity that allowed them to magnify their work. The Trinidadian Marxist intellectual C.L.R. James observed the work of his Trinidadian friend George Padmore, head of the International Trade Union Committee of Negro Workers. ‘It must be remembered that men in Mombasa, in Lagos, in Fyzabad, in Port-au-Prince, in Dakar, struggling to establish a trade union or political organization, most often under illegal conditions and under heavy persecution, read and followed with exceptional concern the directives which came from the revered and trusted centre in Moscow’, James wrote. This ‘trusted centre’ was the Comintern. It provided the necessary organization to help workers from one end of the world to be in touch with others at the other end. Padmore edited The Negro Worker, which gave ‘hundreds of thousands of active Negroes and the millions whom they represented’ access to the world, wrote James. It gave them insight into ‘Communism in theory and the concrete idea of Russia as a great power, which was on the side of the oppressed’. This, James wrote even as he was critical of the USSR, ‘is what The Negro Worker gave to the sweating and struggling thousands in the West Indies, in Nigeria, in South Africa, all over the world’.

Platforms such as Internationale Arbeiterhilfe (Workers’ International Relief – IAH) emerged initially to help draw attention to the struggles inside the USSR with hunger – to enable Europeans mainly raise funds to help prevent famine. But the work of the IAH would eventually widen outwards, building solidarity campaigns from Japan to Mexico, from Argentina to Australia. The IAH worked from Germany, but turned its energy outwards towards the ‘oppressed and exploited’ peoples of the world. It enabled communists and their allies to forge connections across continents and deepened the relations of radicals within their own countries. It allowed words like ‘solidarity’ to take on a tangible meaning. This would not have been possible without the active support of Moscow.

From one end of the planet to the other, Comintern agents such as Mikhail Borodin carried instructions and methods, wondering how best to help along the revolutions. Alongside them were men and women of the colonies who came to Moscow, studied revolutionary theory and then found their way back home to build communist parties against all odds. These people led colourful lives, dangerous lives, going from factory gate to printer’s shop, from prison to exile. Their journeys were unpredictable – the Indian revolutionary M.N. Roy becomes a founder of the Mexican Communist Party, while the Chilean socialist Luis Emilio Recabarren becomes a founder of the Argentinian Communist Party. Dada Amir Haidar Khan (1900-89) leaves his remote village in Rawalpindi for the merchant marine, becomes an activist of the American Communist Party and then goes to the USSR to train at the University of the Toilers of the East, which sends him to India. Yusuf Salman Yusuf (1901-49) – known as Fahd – met a Comintern agent Piotr Vasili who helps him go to the University of the Toilers of the East, which sends him back to Iraq after a sojourn in Europe. Tan Malaka (1897-1949), who leaves the Dutch East Indies to study in Holland, returns to become a popular educator and communist, finds himself in exile and then in Moscow for the Fourth World Congress of the Comintern. Hồ Chí Minh (1890-1969), meanwhile, works on the ships and the hotels in France, the United States and on the Atlantic Ocean. He becomes a founder of the French Communist Party, goes to the USSR to study at the University of the Toilers of the East and then returns to Indo-China to lead his country to revolution. Each of them was born close to 1900 and each lead a colourful life, marked by the October Revolution which occurred in their teens. These were the people who lived along the circuits of the Comintern, for whom the USSR was a crucial node to develop their own ideas and to build their own revolutionary theories and networks.

Red Star Over the Third World, Vijay Prashad, 2019

[scientific-dog]

By the way, I never said what the supercomputer that the Great Race made and on which they created the AI ​​that was “downloaded into Watson’s brains” originally looked like. Of course, in its nature this had nothing in common with classical computers; the Yithians used advanced quantum technologies not yet available (and unlikely not to be available in the near future) to humanity.

Some gadgets that agents of the Great Race made and which archaeologists accidentally found in the deserts of Australia had much in common with the technologies underlying this installation. If you wish, you can find several of these in the Boston Museum. But, you, like any other person who has not had contacted with the Yithians, are unable to figure out how to launch them, and they will seem to you an unremarkable artifacts with no special application.

In Pnakotus, the installation occupied several floors and its front part was not similar to the computers we are used to, with the exception of the main computing unit, which took most of the space on the lower floors, represented by the huge boxes and many wires and pipes connected to each other.

Most of these lines were part of the cooling system, while the other part, through which the bright glow came, was nothing more than a combination of superconducting and topological elements. Although, it is obviously that not everyone had a chance to observe this up close; the extreme fragility and high cost of the computer required certain precautions. A huge labyrinth of translucent, luminous plates located vertically opposite each other and several control units. This installation required certain skills to use, which, however, most of the prisoners of the Great Race successfully mastered.

Watson definitely knew that museums' illiquid assets presented a lot of interesting things, be it paintings by infamous artists or something less understandable to most in use.