#Double beam emergency exit light

[nineteenninety-six]

don’t i know you?

in michael’s early days of working in the pitt where he still get called by his full government last name, teen or younger reader was a frequent patient with a chronic illness. every time reader came in he would “entertain” her with board games, video games, and just talking. years pass and he still thinks of reader time to time wondering. the new social worker for the ED is making introductions and robby thinks they look familiar, it’s reader.

Pairings: Michael Robinavitch & Patient!Reader

TW: chronic illnesses, medical inaccuracies

AN: Just to let you know, if you’ve requested something back in April I haven’t forgotten about you or your request, I’m just struggling with inspiration for it but I will get to it.

Robby first met you on your ninth birthday when you had a severe flare-up and ended up in the emergency room. There, you encountered Dr. Michael Robinavitch, a new addition to PTMC. Having just completed his residency in New Orleans, Robby had settled in Pittsburgh and started working at PTMC.

He knocked on the door of your temporary emergency room before entering and introducing himself.

“Hi there, I’m Doctor Robinavitch. What brings you in today?”

He smiled warmly at your parents before focusing on you, who looked exhausted and tired, with dark circles under your eyes as you blinked sleepily at him. You were wrapped in blankets from home, their bright colours and cartoon character patterns contrasting with the otherwise plain hospital room. A packed hospital bag sat in the corner, indicating this wasn’t your first time in such a situation, and your parents had prepared well.

“Hi, Dr. Robinavitch,” Your mother pulled him aside while your dad got into the bed next to you, pulling you into his arms so you could rest comfortably. “My daughter has a chronic illness, and today is just a really bad day. We called her paediatrician; they said they have no more beds upstairs for her but advised us to come here to keep her hydrated and monitor her in case.”

Robby looked back at you, nodding in understanding. A frown creased his brow, and his heart ached at the pain and discomfort you were enduring at such a young age.

“Of course,” Robby turned back to your mother. “I’ll come to check on you every hour, but let me know if you need anything.”

Your mother nodded with a soft smile before joining your father in the bed, wrapping her arm around you as they cuddled you between them. Robby watched the family for a moment before leaving, allowing them privacy as he moved on to his next patient.

Robby stayed true to his word and checked in on you every hour but it’s not until he’s updating your chart when he realises what today was for you. It was your ninth birthday and we’re in hospital in pain rather than celebrating and so with a double check of your allergens, he closed your chart and sped up to the cafeteria.

Picking up one red velvet cupcake and one carrot cake cupcake, he pays for them and heads towards the exit of cafeteria before his eyes catch on the milk cartons in the fridge and then he doubles back and picks up a strawberry milk and pays for that as well before he heads back down to the ED and to your room.

He knocks on the door and pokes his head through a small gap, smiling when he sees you're awake, "Hello! I heard it's a special day for a special somebody."

You perk up at his words, shuffling up in the bed so you are sitting up straight. You look at your parents with wide confused eyes but they shrug in response, not knowing what the doctor had planned.

"We can't light candles but…" Robby walks through the door, cupcakes and milk on a tray as he sings happy birthday to you.

Your parents quickly join in singing as a smile lights up your face and you beam up at him when he settles the tray on your lap.

"I didn't know what you'd prefer so I bought both cupcakes," Robby let out a laugh as he rubbed his hand on his nape, "I also got you some strawberry milk."

You let out a happy squeal and your mother let out a wet laugh, wiping happy tears from her eyes, "Strawberry is her absolute favourite."

"I made a good choice then didn't I?" Robby asks you and you nod in response.

"Can we cut the cupcake into fours?" You ask your parents, "We can all have some."

Your dad nods and picks up the plastic knife from the tray and cuts each cupcake into fours. He also pierces the straw through the carton for your strawberry milk, your strength still rather depleted enough so you can't do it yourself.

"Thank you, Dr Robina-, Dr Robin-" You stumble over his name, not quite remembering how it was pronounced.

"You can call me Dr Robby." Robby suggests.

You nod with a smile, "Thank you, Dr Robby."

Dana, a nurse who had been at PTMC for a few years longer than he has, flashed him a smile when he left your room and settled into the seat next to her.

"That was sweet of you," Dana told him, "She'll never forget that."

"I doubt that," Robby laughs as he completes some incomplete charts, "She's only nine, she'll forget about it."

Dana shakes her head at him, "Don't be so hasty to brush off your actions and their impact. Think about it, she's just a kid, who's sick and on a day where they would usually be out celebrating, she's stuck in hospital in pain. You made her day, doctor."

Robby blushed, red heat spreading across his cheek and ears at Dana's words.

"Thank you," Robby muttered, still slightly flushed.

You see Dr Robby constantly over the next six years. Sometimes you'd end up in the ED due to your illness, other times you had your appointments with your paediatrician and Dr Robby would always make his way up to the ward to visit you.

Robby brought board games, magazines, puzzles and usually candy to kill time with you. One time when you had to stay in the hospital for a couple of weeks, he had even brought his game console from home to alleviate the boredom that plagued you.

Robby was a comfort to you over the years for your hospital visits, softening the anxiety and stress they usually caused you. That was until your family moved away from Pittsburgh when you were fifteen, heading to another city where there was more specialised treatment for your illness. It wouldn't cure you but it would improve your life so much that your parents couldn't let the opportunity pass.

You cried when you had to say goodbye to Robby and everyone else in the hospital. You had written Robby a long thank you letter where you detailed your first interaction on your birthday and every other one after that, not forgetting a single one and bought him a little bear keychain that he could attach to his backpack.

Robby tried his hardest not to cry when you gave him the letter and the gift but you could see the tears wetting his eyes and the flushing of his ears before he swept you into a tight hug. He didn't know how to form the emotions he was feeling into words; he wanted your new treatment to do as you all wished it would do and he'd never have to see your face in the hospital again but he also didn't want this to be the last time to see you.

After you and your family left, Robby stuck his head into paper work, trying to keep his mind and hands busy and he was only slightly successful until Dana sat next to him, pulling his attention away from the paperwork.

Dana, who had steadily risen through the nursing ranks and was almost certainly going to be the next charge nurse, knew him better than anyone else in the hospital. She knocked her foot into his to get his eyes away from the sheets of paper she was working on.

"Told you so."

"Hm?" Robby looks confused.

"Six years ago, when I told you she'd remember the first interaction you had. You didn't believe me."

Robby let out a huff of laughter, "Yeah, you're right. I didn't think she would remember it."

"You made her day, made her whole hospital visit, of course she never forgot about it."

"She was nine, Dana. I don't remember much from that age, do you?"

"I remember when my family went to visit my uncle and cousin in California for my fifth birthday and he made me Mickey Mouse pancakes with whipped cream or when I was seven and my dad took me to work in the restaurant he worked at and I was crying and his colleagues gave me strawberries to cheer me up…" Dana recalls with a smile on her face, "Moments like that, I'd never forget. Ever."

Robby nods at Dana's words, recalling his own special moments that lingered despite the many years, "Yeah, you're right."

10 YEARS LATER

Robby slipped his earbuds into their case as he walked into the emergency room. It was heaving with activitiy despite the early hour, nurses were tending to all sorts of patients whilst the night shift doctors did their final rounds before they finally signed off for the day.

Dana, now charge nurse, waved him over from where she sat behind the nurse station, clocked into work early as she usually did.

"You see that waiting room?" Dana asked as she scrolled through the emails.

Robby ran his hands through his hair as he let out a scoffed laugh, "Couldn't miss it even with my eyes closed."

Dana laughed alongside him before she let out a hum at the email she just read.

"Anything interesting?" Robby asked, interest piqued.

"We've got a new social worker. Kiara is bringing them down for the shift and for introductions."

Robby knew Kiara had a tough job, parts of it even tougher than his and he had immense respect for her. Most of the time people respected him, or at least his opinion because of his doctor title and gender but the countless times he's had to intervene on Kiara's behalf due to aggression and sometimes outright violence people give her was eye opening.

"Shit, throwing them straight into the deep end." Robby notes.

Dana shrugs, seemingly unconcerned, "Sure but they're with Kiara and she's great at what she does. Whoever they are, they're in good hands."

Robby spots the crowd of nurses and doctors around the nurses station as he leaves a patient's room and he makes his way towards it as he rubs hand sanitizer on his hands. He overhears people introducing themselves and figures the new social worker has finally arrived.

Dana spots him first and an excited smile graces her face as the crowd parts for him, revealing you, the new social worker of the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center.

Robby blinks at you, your face familiar to him. His brows furrowed as he tried to place your face.

You look over at Dana, a teasing smile on your lips, "Surely I don't look that different do I? It's only been ten years."

Robby looks between the two of you in confusion, wondering how the two of you know each other as the crowd around them departs, going back to their jobs.

"Am I missing something here?" Robby asked.

"Y'know he still carries that little bear you gave him on his backpack," Dana tells you.

Realisation sets in then for Robby. His eyes widen and his mouth drops as he looks at you in shock. He never expected to see you again, and if he did, he'd never think you'd be a colleague rather than a patient.

"You…" Robby tried to form words but he couldn't.

"Hey Dr Robby."

Robby is silent as he steps forward and sweeps you into a tight hug before he pulls away, taking a good look at your face.

"Why don't you two catch up outside?" Dana suggests, "I'll shout if you're needed."

"I can't believe it-" Robby laughs once they've reached the ambulance bay, settling on a low wall, "What are you doing here?"

"I finished my masters in social work and I've been wanting to move back to Pittsburgh for a while, so when I saw this job opportunity, I knew I had to apply."

"And you're doing okay? How's your health?" Dr Robby reared his head, "And your parents, they're doing okay?"

"I'm doing good. I still have bad days but far less frequent then what I used to get and yeah-, they're good. They're selling the house over there and moving back over here. We were always meant to be in Pittsburgh." You smile, "You changed my life, Dr Robby. I am not just talking about taking care of me but the care and time you spent with me, inspired me to become a social worker at a hospital."

Robby stares wide-eyed at you, not expecting those words.

"I wanted to be a doctor like you," You laugh, slightly embarrassed, "I was in a bad time with my illness though, constantly in and out of the hospital and being sick. I was barely attending school as it was but then my counsellor told me about the work social workers do and I realised, I can still help people and make an impact but you inspired me."

This time Robby let the tears fall, shoulders shaking as he sobbed. You pull a tissue out of your pocket and offer it to him, and he takes it with a sniffle.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't think you'd remember me after all these years." Robby wiped his tears.

"I'd never forget you or anything you did for me back then." You tell him, "Kiara was telling me all about you this morning, you're now the senior attending physician, that's amazing."

Robby sniffles the last of his tears away as he nods and stands, "Thank you. For your words, for the little bear keychain, for everything."

You smile at him as the two of you begin to walk back to the hospital, "By the way, my parents can't wait to see you again, expect pie. Maybe even multiple."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Great Escape

Warnings: allusions to non con/dubcon, kidnapping, drugging and other possible dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: Here is another wish! This one with Lloyd.

Please leave some feedback so I know you want me to do more of the wishes I got. Otherwise, I find it hard to keep my motivation.

Wish Corrupted: I wish Steve or Lloyd (dealers choice - I'm feeling indecisive today) would save me from my crazy, stress-filled job and give me more free time to enjoy my hobbies (reading, crocheting, quilting, or baking).

You hit the bar on the door. It doesn’t budge. You look up frantically at the beaming red EXIT sign above. You hit it again, again. You throw your body against the metal barrier, the calm footsteps closing in beneath the rampant puff of your breath.

“Real cute to see ya try, princess, but I’m doing you a goddamn favour,” his voice rolls down the hallways towards you.

You turn, pressing yourself to the door, pushing your elbows back as you continue your struggle to find some give. His shadow is skewed by the emergency lights, the stale office made sinister by the outage. You whimper. Who is this man?

“Aw, you don’t gotta be scared,” he silhouette reaches up with his pistol, scratching his head nonchalantly with the barrel, “but I can’t say it doesn’t fill my balls with joy.”

“Who are you?” You breath, choking on a sob as he struts closer, steps slow but startling. He doesn’t hurry, he knows you have nowhere to go. “Please, I… I didn’t do anything. Don’t hurt me.”

“I told you, kitten, you don’t needa be scared,” he coos, “I’m not gonna hurt you… much.” He snickers, the hall darkening the closer he gets, “I’m gonna do you a real big favour.”

You sink down to your knees. The door isn’t opening. You’re trapped. You put and arm up as you slump against the metal, waiting for the end. This psycho is going to murder you.

“Just don’t move,” he slithers as he stops before you.

He crouches and brings the silencer under your chin forcing it up. You bat your lashes and peer up at him. His face is lost in the dark. He tuts as pushes the barrel firm against you.

“Such a pretty face,” he purrs, “all you gotta do is hold still.”

There is no sudden explosion of gunpowder, no bang, just a prick. You slap your neck and he pulls away, chuckling as he holds up the long syringe. You brace the door with your other arm and whine.

“What was that?” You croak.

“Shhh,” he says, “deep breaths.”

Your muscles slacken, your lungs grow heavy, and your head wobbles. You lean into the door as the strength drains from you, eyelids drooping as the world tilts dangerously. The blackness of your subconscious swallows you up before you collapse.

💉

You come to slowly. Your body is stiff and your head is muddy. Your eyes open bit by bit, taking in the expanse of the strange room. The unfamiliarity fills you with dread. What is this place? How did you get here?

You can’t remember. You groan and touch your head, your hand clumsy, seeming almost detached from the rest of you. It takes all your effort to sit up. You gape at the pink skirt across your lap, the scalloped hem, and the tight cinch of the belt around your waist. You never wore anything like that.

You plant your hand on the cushy mattress beneath you and lean on your arm as you steady yourself. You let your eyes explore. The wooden bedframe, the frilly edge of the sheets poking out from beneath the duvet, the round rug beneath the bed, the matching night table; every piece pristine and exact. Like the replica of a fifties sitcom.

You turn your head. There’s a double-wide dresser with a mirror over it. Your reflection gives you a start. You shift your body to face yourself. You watch as you stand, as if you’re looking at someone else. The pink dress buttons up the bodice, cap sleeves top your shoulders, and a round collar frames your neck. 

You lean forward, hands on the dresser as you gape at yourself. This can’t be. Where are you? Who are you? No more stiff-cut blazer, no tucked blouse, no tailored pants. It’s a twisted joke.

The door opens but you can’t bring yourself to move. You glance at it from the mirror. A man enters but you can only see to his shoulders. He stops just inside the door.

“You’re awake,” he says flatly, “nice to have you back in the land of the living, buttercup.”

The voice sends a shiver through you. You know it. You close your eyes and see the flashing emergency lights, the nearing shadows, feel the cold barrel on your chin. You spin to face the man and look at him head-on.

His hair is slicked back, his sides buzzed, a trim of bristly hair across his lip, a singular flaw in an otherwise handsome face. A stranger, like the woman in the mirror. You grip the edge of the dresser and stare at him.

He laughs and reaches for you. You cower as he caresses your cheek.

“I couldn’t figure out the makeup so you’ll have to do all that,” he says.

“What– what is this?”

He snorts and tilts his head, letting his hand fall down your throat. He inhales as his eyes follow his touch and he plays with your collar.

“Not much of a thanks,” he hooks his finger under the top of your dress and draws you away from the dress. He keeps you close as he watches you placidly, “you’re free, sunshine.”

“What? Free?”

“That corporate wheel was grinding you down,” he intones, “it’s your turn to do the grinding.”

You shake your head. You don’t understand. He sweeps his other arm around you, groping your ass as he pulls you flush to him.

“Keep me happy, and I’ll do the same,” he rocks you with him, “eight hours at a desk or a couple minutes on your knees, I know what I’d choose.”

You blink at him in horror.

“Don’t worry, you’ll have more than enough time to catch up on that book,” he affirms.

“Book?”

He nods towards the bed and you notice the familiar curled corner. The same book you’ve kept on your coffee table for months, the one you never had the time or energy to finish. You gulp and look back at him.

“No more spreadsheets, cupcake,” he winks, “but you’ll damn sure be spreading those legs.”

[halfling-myth-lady]

Alix Kubdel?

Here you go!!!

If you want more about this au, feel free to just send in the name of a character and I’ll give you a ficlet/oneshot about or in the pov of that character.

Warning:the story is told in Achronological order. The order of THIS chapter would be around early to mid season three.

Alix didn’t expect to spend her Sunday fighting her brother.

But alas, Hawkmoth seemed to have the power of picking the worst time for everything, so of course her brother got pissy at some guy calling out his piss poor knowledge of Egyptian culture.

“Thoth, give me time!”her brother yelled.

“He’s a scribe you idiot not Chronos!”she screamed”and he’s not a baboon either!…or at least not most of the time.”

Jalil turned to her, taking his attencion off the poor guy who just corrected him about Nefertiti“You all know nothing of the gods!”

“Well clearly “nothing” is more than you, dimwit!”Alix started to run at this point. it’d be better that Jalil target her over anyone else. Hell, she was fast. maybe she could buy Nath or Marc some time to get over here so they could deal with him.

She scrambled for her phone, hastily dialing Marc.

“Hey! Anciel! Get over here!” She yelled into the speaker.

“What is it K-oh shit”they hung up, leaving alix to outrun her brother.

At least she knew her way around.

For about ten minutes, she ran laps around the museum, up until she reached one of the statue exhibits. Which was a dead end. Dammit.

Hey at least Nath or Marc could probably bust her out of those time bubbles, didn’t ladybug do that-…wait, was that statue hollow?

“I have you here…now you will have no choice but be a sacrifice for my Nefertiti!” Oh shit.

“…isn’t sacrifice an Aztec thing-?”

She was interrupted by the sound of running and a scream.

“Alix, Run!” a particular void eyed rooster yelled as they smashed a vase on the Akuma’s head.

“Look at that!”she remarked.

“Book it!”Rooster bold said as they turned around, lifting an old statue and grabbing it as if to use like some kind of bat.

“Be careful with that!”Alix hid behind a few other statues, making sure she wouldn’t waste too much time running from and to the fight scene“Fluff, Clockwise”

She was engulfed in a blue light as she switched quickly changed to her superhero outfit. As soon as the transformation was finished she started running back.

“Bunnix is on the scene!”she yelled out as soon as she was in view”and ready to kick ass!”

“Good,now please help me!”Roo yelled out, nearly dodging a time bubble.

“On it, Roo!”she said,hitting her brother right in the head.

“Ooh!nice shot!”they remarked as they once again hit him with the statue.

The pharaoh didn’t seem to find this too amusing, however, As he broke out of the two’s reach and started booking it to the exit.

“Damn you!I’m gonna go search for Ladybug!”he yelled.

“Yeah go get your ass kicked somewhere else!”Alix yelled back.

He flipped her off, that ba-oh look a bus dropped on him. She saw that from the wreckage arose a certain last member of their team.

“Hi there!”Nath -or Caprikid- said.

“Cap!”Marc smiled.

“Roo!”Caprikid grinned.

“And me!”Bunnix added.

“Horus, give me flight!”the dipshit said, completely disregarding that Horus is a kingship god.

“Genesis!”

…Oh look. another bus. That ought to shut him up for a few more seconds.

“Hey Roo, Genesis!”Caprikid yelled, handing Rooster bold a Crobar before Alix’s brother emerged once again from the bus, immediately getting his face trampled as Caprikid made his way towards the other two heroes.

“You…”Jalil said”you little…ANUBIS, WAKE MY MUMMIES!”

“ITS OSIRIS YOU DUMBASS!”

A giant beam came out as the Akuma sent the two busses flying, nearly hitting Alix.

“Rude”

He turned around, turning random civilians into mummies.

“Double rude, Jackass!”

“Looks like we’ll need to get up on his level.”Caprikid remarked.

“Hey!”Roo screeched, making the pharaoh turn around before promptly getting hit by a flying crowbar, causing the pendant to shatter on impact, releasing the Akuma.

“…or just some plot armor, I guess”

She walked over to him, poking the now normal Jalil in the chest”I think you broke one of his ribs”

“Cool. Didn’t think I could do that”

She glanced over to the Akuma,which was escaping the scene of the crime.

“Oh, no you don’t!”Nath yelled, making his way to the butterfly before snatching it mid air”we’re waiting here till Chat Noir comes in.”

He jumped down, glancing at the unconscious Jalil.

“Should we get the paramedics?”

“Yeah…”

“Probably”

[sngl-led-auto-lights]

Is there still a purpose for flashing headlights now that most cars have automatic lights?

Although modern cars' automatic headlight systems (such as automatic high beam and adaptive lighting) have greatly improved convenience, manual flashing of headlights still has multiple irreplaceable practical scenarios. The following is a detailed analysis:

​​1. Continuous use of flashing headlights​​

1. Active communication between drivers​​

Overtaking reminders​​:

Flash the high beam briefly (1-2 times) before overtaking at high speed to signal the vehicle in front to give way (especially for lane departure scenarios without turn signals).

​​Intersection reminders​​:

At intersections without signal lights, flash the lights to inform other vehicles "I will pass first" (some countries regard it as a road right agreement).

​​2. Warning of potential dangers​​

Hidden dangers ahead​​:

When there is an accident in the opposite lane, a police inspection, or an animal crossing, flash the lights to remind the oncoming vehicle to slow down.

​​Vehicle failure​​:

When the double flash fails, switch the headlights on and off alternately as an emergency signal (subject to local regulations).

​​3. Fight against abuse of high beams​​

When the oncoming vehicle or the vehicle behind you keeps using high beams, flash the high beams briefly to signal them to switch to low beams (more accurate than honking).

​​2. Limitations of automatic headlights​​

​​Delay of mechanical automatic high beams​​:

Most systems take ​​1-2 seconds​​ to identify oncoming vehicles, and manual flashing can immediately respond to emergencies.

​​Misjudgment in special scenarios​​:

In dense fog, backlight or tunnel exits, the sensor may mistakenly keep the high beams on, requiring manual intervention.

​​No active communication function​​:

The automatic system cannot convey humanized signals such as "thank you" (flash double jump lights) or "urge" (flash high beams).

​​3. Regulations and safety disputes​​

​​Legality​​:

​​United States​​: Most states allow reasonable flashing (such as reminding that the door is not closed), but prohibit it from being used for provocation or interference (fines can be up to $500).

​​EU​​: ECE regulations prohibit the abuse of high beams, but emergency flashing is considered legal (such as Germany StVO §5).

​​China​​: Flashing high beams without reason may result in a deduction of 1 point (Article 90 of the Road Traffic Law), except for danger warnings.

​​Disputed scenarios​​:

​​"Flashing lights to give way" trap: Some countries (such as the UK) believe that flashing lights may mislead pedestrians to have priority, leading to disputes over accident liability.

​​Fourth, future trends: intelligent alternatives​​

​​Vehicle-to-everything (V2X)​​:

Vehicles automatically send overtaking/lane change requests through short-range communication (DSRC) (instead of flashing lights).

​​Projection interaction​​:

Mercedes-Benz Digital Light can project text/icons (such as "Be careful!") onto the road surface to achieve accurate information transmission.

​​Five, when should you avoid flashing lights? ​​​​The oncoming vehicle has switched to low beams: Continuing to flash lights may be seen as a provocation.

​​When pedestrians cross the street: Strong light may cause pedestrians to be temporarily blinded, increasing the risk.

​​Emergency vehicles approaching: Prioritize pulling over instead of communicating with flashing lights. ​​Summary​​

​​Flashing headlights is still an important driving language, especially in active communication and emergency warning scenarios that automatic systems cannot cover. Proper use can improve road safety, but abuse should be avoided. In the future, as V2X technology becomes more popular, flashing headlights may gradually be replaced by digital interaction, but at this stage its function is still irreplaceable.

[vinayakgarg-blog1]

We engage in Manufacturer,contractor,Project Handling,Engineers,Supplier,designer,installation,repair,maintenance,testing and commissioning  of firefighting equipment,fire extinguishers,fire alarm and detection systems,fire safety and security systems,Metal Fire extinguishers,fire extinguishers refilling services,fire extinguishers inspection,ABC fire extinguishers,AMC services  firefighting fire protection fire alarm fire suppression systems equipment ,fire sprinkler Systems,fire suppression systems,fire hydrant systems,firefighting works contractor,fire protection services,Clean Agent Fire Extinguishers,Fire Modular,Fire Safety Sign board,Emergency Evacuation Plan , Emergency Light,fire safety inspection in Wazirpur,Badli,Burari,Jahangir Puri,Mangol Puri,Delhi Industrial Area,Karam Pura,L. M. Nagar Industrial Area,Peeragarhi,Nilothi,Mayapuri,Narela,Kirti Nagar,Kesopur,Lawrence Road Industrial Area,Naraina,Rajasthani Udyog Nagar, GT Karnal Road Industrial Area, Patpurgunj,Gurgaon,Noida,Faridabad for all types of Commercial Businesses.

[alj4890]

Hello dear! I have an ask I just recently read TRH book 1 what if we get Liams POV when Riley goes into labor and when he has to make that awful decision. What are his thoughts when Riley passes out and there’s no doctor? Maybe we can find out how they got the door open?

I replayed TRH book 1 & 2 recently, so this ask couldn't have come at a better time 😂. I wonder though if anyone else thinks it was odd that Godfrey was put in charge of installing new security at the Palace. I mean, why wasn't Liam and his King's Guards handling that? I don't know, but those chapters of Riley giving birth are some that hurt me, and only because the poor woman is denied an epidural 😂 I would have Godfrey strung up by his thumbs for causing that and allow Olivia to torture him to her heart's content. But enough of my revenge ideas, let's see what I can do with this for you.

@gkittylove99 ​ @krsnlove ​ @kingliam2019 ​ @texaskitten30 ​ @yourmajesty09 ​ @mom2000aggie ​ @ofpixelsandscribbles ​ @twinkleallnight ​ @lodberg ​  @amandablink ​ @neotericthemis ​  @mm2305 ​ @sfb123 ​ @iufilms​

Masterlist

The Decision

It was too much to comprehend.

One moment, Liam was confronting the man who killed his mother and the next was nothing but chaos and darkness.

Screams rent the air as flashing red lights revealed steel enforced doors dropping down over the ballroom's doors and windows.

Liam knelt beside his wife when he realized she had been knocked down by a panicking guest.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, gently brushing her hair out of her eyes.

"Only my pride." She tried to smile but a painful tightening around her middle struck.

Her eyes widened when she felt a wetness between her legs.

"Liam!" She gripped his arm. "My water broke!"

"What?" He searched through the crowd for their friends. "Now?"

She nodded while breathing through another contraction. "We have to get to the hospital."

"We will." He helped her up. "Let's get you somewhere more comfortable while we get a door open."

"Liam!" Riley doubled over. "I don't want to have our baby in a ballroom filled with people."

"Is there a problem?"

The couple stiffened when they heard Isabella's voice. Her husband Bradshaw smiled at them.

"Our guards would be more than happy to help with the door situation," his smile held a hint of smugness, "as long as your child is betrothed to one of our twins."

Olivia arrived at that moment followed by their other friends.

"Are you saying your guards won't help rescue you without a betrothal?"

"We're in no immediate danger." Bradshaw explained.

"In fact, we're quite comfortable waiting for your pitiful little guards to find a way out." Isabelle added. "No need for us to cross international lines and damage delicate feelings with our more than capable personnel."

"Delicate!" Olivia heaved a deep breath. "We don't need your help to get out of this."

"We don't?" Maxwell asked. He let out an oomph when Olivia elbowed him. "I mean, yeah we don't! This isn't the first time we have been faced with a challenge."

"No steel door will ever convince us that their baby should be forced to be with one of your twins." Drake added.

Olivia beamed at him before turning her fury on the visiting monarchs. "I'll have it opened in no time."

"Yeah!" Maxwell cheered. "Go Nevarkis Ingenuity!"

She rolled her eyes while going to examine the metal door that covered the double doors into the ballroom.

"Oh!" Riley eased back down into a chair. She raised her eyes to Liam's. "They're getting stronger."

He gently rubbed her back. "Have you had any pains this evening?"

"It was all in my back. I thought it was from being on my feet most of the night." She took deep breaths to calm down. "But now--"

The flashing red lights and alarm stopped. The couple turned to see a proud Olivia slip a strange looking quartz bladed dagger back into a garter under her dress.

There was a square shaped hole cut within the wall with numerous wires exposed.

"That's going to be difficult to repair." Maxwell muttered.

Liam could not have cared less about the damage. If Olivia wanted to tunnel underground to get them out, then he would gladly rip up the marble tiles himself.

Riley cried out as a strong contraction struck.

"I need a distraction!" She puffed through the pain.

"How about some music?" Hana asked. "I composed a new piece recently."

"Or we could sing." Maxwell offered. "Any song you'd like."

"We could?" Drake shook his head. "Sorry Brooks, but that's not happening."

"You would deny her a song when she's in labor?" Maxwell's jaw dropped.

"I doubt our singing would help her any." Drake replied. "Might even double her pain."

While his friends bickered, Liam found his thoughts drifting back to the secret chamber they had unearthed less than an hour ago. He slipped his hand into his breast pocket to touch the letter he had discovered.

His mother's words about how much joy he had brought her echoed in his heart. He wished she could have lived to see the type of man he had become. He had tried with everything within him to live up to her expectations. Would she have noticed? What would she think of him as king now? What would her opinion have been on this choice he and Riley were given for an arranged marriage for her grandchild? Would she approve of them wanting to give their baby the right to choose his or her own spouse?

He wished he knew. He wished she was here guiding him in not only capturing her killer but in also knowing what to do for his wife and unborn child. He would have given anything to have her wise counsel once more.

"Hana!" Riley yelled to stop the argument between her three friends. "Please play whatever you like." She glared at Drake. "Someone's voice is getting on my nerves."

Hana hurried over to a piano and began to play a soothing song.

"I'm going to check on the door situation." Liam pressed a kiss to Riley's cheek. "I'll be back in just a moment."

"Hurry, please." She pleaded.

"I'll watch over her." Maxwell promised.

"I'll go check on the door with you." Drake added.

Liam made his way through the crowd, pausing here and there to reassure everyone that they would be out soon.

"Give me a boost." Olivia ordered.

Drake squatted down and linked his fingers together.

Olivia slipped her heels off and placed her foot in his grasp.

"One...two..." He heaved her up in the air, "three!"

Olivia steadied herself and quickly studied the mechanism that had allowed the door to drop. A lock had formed thus causing them to be unable to lift it up.

After poking and prodding with one of her stilettoes, she noticed the thin metal holding the lock in place.

"Bring me down." She ordered.

Drake grunted as he brought her back down. "Next time, stand on my shoulders."

"Did you figure out how to get it open?" Liam asked.

"I think I might be able to weaken the lock with heat and one of my daggers. Once we destroy that, we should be able to lift it." She explained.

"Can't we hotwire it?' Drake asked, gesturing toward the exposed wires.

"Not since I had to cut so many to get the alarms to turn off." She remarked. "I wouldn't be surprised if there is some emergency failsafe in place for an enemy's attack on the wiring. It might even drop another door on us."

Liam ran his hands over his face. "Do whatever you can to get us out of here."

"Good." Olivia nodded towards the bar. "Drake, we will start with the brandy to use for fuel."

Liam shook his head at her plan to start a fire of sorts. He hoped she didn't end up hurting herself in the process. Honestly though, he couldn't seem to focus on what he could do to help get the doors open.

"Your majesty! I don't think I can breathe in here another second!" Penelope grasped his arm while hyperventilating. "I don't do well in enclosed spaces."

"When will we get out of here?" Another noble demanded.

Questions began to be thrown at him as the crowd closed in a circle, trapping him directly in the middle.

"Is Olivia trying to burn us up in here?"

"We're going to die!"

"What are the guards doing to save us?"

"Auvernal's guards will have us out in minutes, if your king agrees." Bradshaw yelled out over the crowd. His smile was the final straw to break Liam's barely restrained temper.

"Enough!" Liam roared. "We are not going to die in here. The guards are doing all they can and Olivia is graciously assisting." His eyes zeroed in on Penelope. "Go sit down to try and calm your breathing. You're in the same ballroom you have danced in for years." He then turned to Auvernal's king. "As for your assistance, it isn't needed at this time."

Bradshaw shrugged his shoulders as if it wasn't a big deal, but his eyes held a deep seeded anger as he looked upon Liam. "If you think your guests wouldn't prefer to get out of here as quickly as they can, then I suppose there is little we can do."

Murmurs rose once more around him. Liam clinched his fists then pushed his way through when he heard Riley call out for him.

Will this night never end?

It was becoming too much for him. The whining of his people, his wife in pain and in need of medical care, his own innate need to chase after Godfrey and make him pay for poisoning his mother...he needed it all to stop for a minute to allow him to think.

"Liam!" Riley had tears falling down her cheeks. "We need to go to the hospital now!"

She gripped his hand as Hana finished the last few notes to her song.

He knelt before her chair. "Olivia has found a way to open the door. We'll soon have you out of here and--"

The sound of metal screeching had everyone turning toward the double doors.

Seeing the steel door go up caused Liam to scoop his wife in his arms and rush toward the exit.

Their friends and guests spilled out after them to only stop short.

Godfrey had installed these same safety measures on every window and exterior door along the first floor.

"Liam?" Riley puffed through another contraction. "What are we going to do?"

"I found a way out of there." Olivia boasted. "I'm certain I can--"

Bradshaw clucked his tongue. "This isn't the same type of door, your grace." He smirked at her. He knocked against the thicker steel door. "My guards could find a way outside to open it, but only if you sign this."

He produced a betrothal contract.

Riley whimpered as she looked at it and then her husband.

"Get. That. Out. Of. My. Face." Liam ordered.

He turned on his heel to take his wife upstairs to their chambers. Once he reached the first step he spoke over his shoulder. "Olivia, we trust you to handle this. Hana, please call Riley's doctor and ask her to meet us here instead of the hospital."

***************

The hours dragged on as they waited. Olivia appeared periodically to vent her frustrations with getting the door to open. Drake, Maxwell, and Hana attempted to keep Riley's spirits up as she endured the ever increasing contractions.

Liam felt absolutely useless. He didn't know what to do to help his wife. He didn't know the first thing of helping a woman give birth. What if there was a complication? What about their child? What if he couldn't clear the baby's airways? What if--"

"Liam?"

He focused on Riley, weakly gripping his hand. "Yes, my love? What can I do?"

"I feel...odd."

Maxwell nudged Liam out of the way to check her blood pressure.

"Where did you find a blood pressure kit?" Drake asked.

"I know it's hard to believe, but Bertrand has high blood pressure." Maxwell winked at his friends. "I can't imagine where his source of stress comes from."

Riley tried to smile at his teasing. She could feel whatever it was pulling her under making every movement feel like it she was wading through quicksand.

Maxwell's smile disappeared. He studied Riley's flushed cheeks and stepped back.

"What is it?" Liam whispered as his friend pulled him away from her bed.

"Her blood pressure is really high right now." Maxwell glanced over his shoulder. "I don't know if that's normal for a woman in labor, but I do know that this is when I would be calling an ambulance if it was Bertrand with this reading."

Liam rubbed his hands over his face. This entire night was one nightmare after another.

"Riley?" Hana shook her by the shoulders. "Riley?!"

Liam rushed back to the bed to see his wife passed out. He took a cold rag and wiped her face, hoping it would bring her back to them.

"Riley?" His voice cracked. "Please, wake up." He looked around at their friends. "What should I do?"

"I don't know." Drake draped his arm along Hana's shoulders when she began to softly cry.

"Keep talking to her." Maxwell jogged out the room. "I'll see about the door!"

Liam turned back toward Riley. He placed his hand on her stomach and could feel the tightening of contractions along with the faint movements of their child.

Riley opened her eyes.

Liam gently cupped her cheek.

"What happened?" She asked.

"You blacked out." He explained. "Your blood pressure--"

Maxwell returned with a frustrated Olivia.

"...short of dynamite, I don't know how I'll--" she stilled when she saw the color drain from Riley's face.

"I think it's happening..." Riley became unconscious once more. Her head dropped back on the pillows.

"We have to get that doctor here now." Liam looked up at Hana. "Any word from her?"

"She is right outside." Hana explained. "And so are Auvernal's guards."

Liam took off out of the room. His long, deliberate strides had him at the balcony overlooking the entryway where the Auvernal monarchs stood talking to some of the guests.

His friends had to nearly run to catch up with him.

Bradshaw looked up and curved his lips. "Trouble, King Liam?"

Isabella snickered. "I hope Queen Riley isn't suffering unnecessarily."

Liam launched himself at the smug king when he brought up the severe pain Riley must be in at this moment.

Shouts from his friends, guests, and the King's Guards drowned out him telling Auvernal's monarch to have his guards break down the door.

"No." Bradshaw's easy smile grew into an evil smirk. "I don't see any reason to have my men do anything like that to help a woman who isn't a part of my country nor one who wishes to ally herself with mine."

"You bastard!" Liam jerked his arm back. His fist formed as he prepared to beat this man within an inch of his life for denying his Riley a doctor.

It took Drake, Maxwell, and Bastien to hold him back from starting a war with Auvernal with a single punch. Olivia and Hana got between the two kings while Isabella merely looked on in glee.

"My wife and child are going to die if I don't get that doctor in here now!" Liam shouted. "And you stand there refusing to--"

"Not refusing!" Bradshaw snapped. "I'm trying to help you." He snapped his fingers and was handed the engagement contract by a nearby Auvernal guard. "Sign this and my men will have your doctor in here within five minutes."

Liam felt all the adrenaline that had rushed through his veins when he tried to punch the man leave his body. He felt not only weak but utterly worthless. He couldn't see any way out of this. He couldn't lose his wife. He couldn't lose the child they had eagerly waited for.

He couldn't get the damn door open without the very people he had grown to loathe these past nine months.

"Liam," Olivia whispered, "it's the only option we have now."

"We'll find a way to break it." Maxwell whispered.

"Yeah," Drake patted his shoulder. "Right now, you need to just accept the deal to get Brooks and the baby some help."

Liam glanced over at Hana to get her advice.

Tears filled her eyes. "I--I know this isn't what you want, but we have no choice."

Liam swallowed and snatched the paper from Bradshaw's hand. He signed the cursed document and tossed it in his face.

"There! Now get that doctor in here before it becomes null and void."

Bradshaw quickly gave the orders for his guards outside to break down the door with a battering ram.

In three minutes, Dr. Ramirez was following Liam up to the royal chambers.

She helped rouse Riley and then guided her through the delivery.

Liam watched in awe as his wife produced the most perfect baby girl he had ever seen.

Tears of joy and immense relief trickled down his cheeks as he held his daughter for the first time.

"I think we should name her Eleanor," Riley said, watching him kiss their little one's forehead, "in honor of your mother."

His eyes practically glowed as he looked upon his wife. "Thank you, my love."

She snuggled her head on his shoulder as they both gazed down at their own miracle.

Liam knew he needed to tell Riley what had happened with Auvernal yet he didn't want to ruin this first moment of them as a family.

He silently vowed as he held his daughter that he would somehow find a way to save her from an arranged marriage.

[pinkoptics]

Cherik ‘Fallen Angel’ Fic

Part 2 (of Chapter 1)

Find Part 1 (of Chapter 1) here.

Charles is an angel. He loves Erik. He saves Erik. God takes issue with that. Hilarity and adorableness (with a smidge of angst) ensues. In this part, protective!Erik makes an appearance at the hospital.

*

“I don’t know what his last name is!” Erik growled at the nurse, just barely managing to hold back the ‘fucks’ he wanted to pepper the sentence with. “I wasn’t exactly trying to get all of his info while he was bleeding to death on me.”

Erik released them in his mind— Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She’s just doing her job. She’s just doing her job. Don’t strangle her with metal.

“I told you,” Erik gritted his teeth and repeated a variation of the same combination of sentences he had already uttered twice. “I was crossing the street. The car barrelled through the red light. He jumped in and saved my life. I tried to return the favour. His name is Charles. He’s cute. I promised to take him to dinner. That’s all I know and that’s as far as we got before he passed out.”

How was Charles? Was he okay?

It didn’t seem like he could be. It had looked like so much fucking blood. The utterly insane things the man had said (“You should know you’re beautiful. Before I leave this mortal realm, I want you to know that”). Those spectacularly bright blue eyes fading to a frightening dullness. Not that Erik knew anything about anything medical, but none of that had seemed promising. So, not only was this nurse annoying as all fuck, she was stonewalling him. They wouldn’t tell him a goddamned thing because he wasn’t Charles’ next of kin. No one, in fact, knew if he had any next of kin in New York because he didn’t have a wallet, ID or phone on him. This was why the nurse was presently grilling him for information he did. not. have. They hadn’t let him ride in the ambulance, so he’d taken a cab and prayed that the ambulance had made a hell of a lot better time than he had. The only reason they were talking to him at all was because he had been there, had a name, a first name, and that was it.

The swinging doors opened and a woman in scrubs emerged. Erik nearly lunged.

“Are you Erik?”

“Yes.”

“He’s asking for you. I don’t want to let you in at all, but I don’t think we’re going to be able to start anything beyond emergency treatment until he talks to you.”

Asking meant conscious. Living. Thank fuck. The relief was powerful and nearly knocked him on his ass. Later, when he wasn’t teeming with barely contained frustration, and desperately trying to ascertain just how okay Charles was or wasn’t, he might spare a moment to think about how unexpected it was to be so powerfully moved by a stranger (a cute stranger who’d saved his life, granted), but not now.

“How is he?”

“He lost some blood, will need stitches on his arm and he has a few fractured ribs, but he’s stable. He’s going to be fine. After he stops trying to get out of bed to talk to you, we might actually be able to treat those things with something other than bandages.”

If Erik had thought the first wave of relief was powerful, he was not prepared at all for the second.

She sighed deeply and gestured to the double doors from which she had emerged. “This way.”

He followed her a short way down the hall, nearly stepping on her heels each step of the way. She stopped so abruptly before they entered the room that Erik nearly ran straight into her back.

“I should warn you that he’s... well, you’ve both been through a trauma. The mind processes such things in all sorts of ways. If he doesn’t seem... ‘all there’ don’t be overly concerned. Play along, don’t distress him further.”

Charles certainly hadn’t been ‘all there’ at the scene of the accident. His bizarre last words kept spinning through Erik’s head at random intervals— you are so loved. On their own, they were strange enough, but the reverence of Charles’ tone had sunk the words into Erik’s bones like a telepath projecting the emotion behind what they were saying. He hadn’t heard the words, he’d felt the words. Even if Charles was a telepath, it didn’t make them make anymore sense. More forthcoming then... he nodded at the doctor.

“You’re here!” Charles beamed at him from his sitting position on the hospital bed, looking much happier than anyone had any right to be in his situation. “And, you look well. Are you well?”

Charles did too, relatively speaking. He was a little pale, a little bruised but nowhere close to as bad as Erik had expected. Though the car had clipped him as he’d tackled Erik out of the way, it seemed to have been a case of looking much worse than it was at the scene. Small miracles.

“I’m fine.” Fine enough, at any rate. Like Charles, he was understandably bruised, and it was probably going to hurt more in the morning, but his suit had taken the harder beating. Between contact with the pavement and Charles’ blood, there would be no saving it, not that that mattered in the slightest. “You’re the one who was bleeding out all over me. How are you?”

Erik was sitting at his bedside now, the doctor presumably hovering in the background for all Erik’s attention was on Charles. The man in question blinked, cocking his head slightly to the side and giving Erik’s question a more thorough consideration than Erik would have thought necessary.

“I really don’t know,” he finally answered. Charles stretched his injured arm out in front of him, now bandaged (if not stitched) and looked at it with a plainly perplexed expression. “I’ve never been hurt before you know. It’s curious... interesting, but I don’t at all recommend it.”

“You were hit by a car.” Erik couldn’t help but be amused. Perplexed Charles was endearing. “Not something that happens to a person every day.”

“Quite.” Charles conceded the point. He went from staring at his arm to deliberately poking his own rib cage, and subsequently wincing. “You’re all very fragile, you know. So much could kill you every single minute of your life and yet so many of you manage to survive until old age. How do you do it? I’ve only just arrived and I’ve already nearly died.”

He turned his focus from his ribs to Erik and genuinely looked as though he were waiting for a response. Erik opened his mouth and then closed it. Despite the doctor’s suggestion to ‘play along’ he didn’t have one. Erik decided to change course.

“The hospital needs your personal information— last name, address, insurance.”

“Oh, well, that’s easy enough. I don’t have a last name. Just Charles. Or an address for that matter. I feel it’s unlikely my former profession came with any benefits.” Charles suddenly laughed. “That’s not true. It absolutely had many benefits, but certainly not State Farm. Besides, I’m no longer working for Him.”

The emphasis on the last word was... odd. Was Erik supposed to know who he was?

“I was... goodness. I was fired I suppose. Fired. That means I’m—I’m unemployed. For the first time in a millennia, I’m... on the pogey!” He laughed a little harder, the edge of hysteria he’d had at the scene worming its way back in. “Wait, no, you don’t say that anymore, do you?”

Pogey?

“Oh you look so confused. I apologize. It’s a Canadian phrase come to think. Or it used to be, a century ago.”

Shit.

Had Charles hit his head? Was this some kind of bizarre amnesia? The doctor hadn’t mentioned either possibility but... Erik side-stepped again.“How about family? Is there someone I can call and let them know you’re here? Maybe they can provide your information?”

The shift in Charles’ expression and demeanour was so abrupt and dramatic that Erik’s gut clenched. The stunning blue eyes that had stared up at him with such naked concern and relief, took on an unmistakable sheen. The wetness made them impossibly bluer, an unnatural colour that was as striking as it was otherworldly. The tears did not fall, yet Erik somehow knew that Charles would cry beautifully if they did. Erik somehow also knew what the response was going to be before he uttered it.

“No. There is no one. Not anymore.”

Erik surprised himself by doing something he would normally never do, under any circumstance, even with someone he knew well, let alone someone he had just met. He reached out and took Charles’ hand, squeezing it gently. His was a pain Erik was all too familiar with.

“It’s all right. We’ll... we’ll figure this out. You’re Charles. You saved my life. You have me. That’s all we need to know right now. Don’t worry about the insurance or anything else.”

Charles stopped staring out into the middle-distance and focused on Erik. “Truly, you don’t owe me anything.”

Erik snorted. “The hell I don’t. Besides, we’ve got to get you healed up. I can’t take you to the diner in this state. We’ve got date, remember? So there you are. Here you think I’m indebted, but really my reasons are purely selfish. You’re hot and I want to date you. Humour me.”

The wetness retreated and that red mouth quirked up into a small smile.

“As long as you’re being self-centred.”

“Oh, trust me, I am.”

Somewhere behind them, someone cleared their throat. Erik turned. Oh, right, the doctor. “As much as I would love to watch the two of you keep flirting, we need to take care of those injuries.”

She was right, so Erik reluctantly stood and even more reluctantly released Charles’ hand.

“I’ll be back later, so stop trying to leave and let them take care of you, all right?”

Charles nodded. “If you insist.”

“I do.”

Erik forced himself to turn and exit the room. Only after he’d left it, did he truly exhale. Charles was okay. Charles was okay. Charles was flirting even... well, possibly. They were still on for that date. Erik took a few much needed breaths and strode more determinedly, and much less frantically, back toward the nurses’ desk. He would take care of this.

He would take care of Charles.

*

Thanks for reading 😊. I really hope inspiration continues to strike because I’ve had a lot of fun with this thus far.

On to chapter 2 part 1

[unholyhelbig]

Triple Treble High school AU??

Read on AO3 | Request prompts here

The darkroom wasn’t originally in the blueprints for the high school. It was a small space that was wedged between the back stairwell, something that still smelled so thickly of drain cleaner, and sawdust, that the developer only added a twinge of vinegar to the mix.

Beca had pestered and persisted until the school board agreed to convert the unused storage area into a place for the yearbook committee to soak and hang their film. It could fit about four people at a time and left her blinking away the red light when the bell rang, load and enough to vibrate the whole room.

She leaned against the table that woodshop had constructed, mindful of the surface that could splinter at any moment. She was putting the finishing touches on her book report for Mr. White’s third-period English. She was cutting it close, but the photos from the pep rally the day before still had a good three minutes left of the egg timer.

She twisted the dial and listened to the satisfying click that accompanied it.

Beca had learned a long time ago that it was better to be unseen than seen by the whole world. There were no standards that way, if this batch of photos didn't turn out, or darken fully, that would be okay- because it wasn’t like they had noticed her, other than the small flashes of light, or the click of her Nikon.

She scribbled the finishing touches on her interesting take of “To Kill a Mockingbird” and shoved the crinkled lined paper into her backpack. She hadn’t put much thought into it- having read the novel more than once and never finding it as moving as it was intended to be.

The timer sounded off and her heart caught in her throat. It always did, even though she was the one that set it. She knew it was going to hiss eventually, and her hands moved before her mind could catch up. She peered over the edge of the basin at the photo that developed fully.

Chloe Beale beamed charismatically, her arm around Kaylee Eli, brow glistening with sweat. The logo of the cowboy shining under the lights. Beca was a damn good shot, but Chloe was an even better model. She stared right into the lens like she actually saw Beca- she noticed and posed and smiled with the same type of vigor as always.

The second warning bell sounded off and Beca fished the photo from the solution with her tongs. She shook it once, then twice, before clipping it on the line. She shouldered her bag and then emerged into the hallway, breathing in to clear out the sharp acidic scent from her lungs.

She nearly collided with a warm body, also trying their hardest to get through the hallways and into homeroom in time for the third and final bell to sound. Her sneakers squeaked against the floor, and her shoulder did make contact with something soft, and hot, and she stumbled with an apology before even realizing who it was.

Posters, and buttons scattered across the floor with a deafening clatter, and a pile of books were soon to follow. They were obnoxiously red, white, and blue. And Beca was on her knees, very suddenly, scrambling to pile them into a stack that they had once been.

“I’m so sorry,” She said, her own backpack forgotten.

“Were you in a supply closet?”

Beca glanced up, meeting hard and ripe green. The girl in front of her was a mass of blonde hair and lip gloss. She shoved her bangs back and gave Beca an inquisitive look. The posters were stacked now, and the two raised to a standing position.

“No, I mean, yes.” Beca frowned “It’s not a supply closet anymore, though. It’s a dark room. For photography.”

The girl studied her. She looked vaguely familiar. Those posters did too- Aubrey Posen for Student President. She realized she was still gripping them, reading them. She flushed and handed them over.

“I’m afraid I’ve made you miss the final bell.” She said.

“Don’t worry about it. Have a fantastic day.” Beca replied, even if she didn’t’ mean it. She grabbed her bag from the floor and maneuvered her way around the girl and walked off towards her first class- one that she wouldn't be paying much attention to.

Aubrey glared down at her posters. The word Fantastic was outlined in blue and slanted in a way that screamed desperately. She swallowed back the suddenly queasy feeling in her stomach and pulled her shoulders back. It didn’t’ matter if the candy-cane stripes and the blue lettering were tacky. It would win her the vote.

She felt disheveled, the pink late slip in her pocket burned like dry ice. She hated breaking the rules, and even this, even having the permission to skip the first half of the morning to work on her campaign, made her feel like some kind of common criminal.

Aubrey walked all the way to the gym.

She was meant to set up the ballot tables for the three lunch periods. She hadn’t thought that many people would skip out on the greasy scent of fried chicken and the brothy greens that were slopped next to them to vote for student council. Not many people cared about the election, and sometimes Aubrey questioned her own dedication to the cause of no cause at all.

The gym always smelled thickly of sweat and floor wax. It’s bright lights seemed to be the only thing in the school that ran on an automatic timer. The last moments of morning cheer practice had just concluded, and Aubrey waited dutifully by the double doors for the girls to clear out.

Most of them- she knew cordially. She was nod at them and say hello, and even give them a button to strap to their bags. So they smiled kindly as they exited past her, and wished her luck on today's vote. She figured she needed it.

“Are you nervous?”

“Huh?” Aubrey had started to study the sound system in the corner, but her focus was suddenly on the one remaining cheerleader in the gym. Her voice echoed, and her smile radiated. “Oh, uh, no my opposing candidate is a gerbil so.”

“he’s got a solid campaign.” She replied, walking across the seal in the center of the floor. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re going to do great. You’ve got my vote.”

Aubrey hadn’t been this close to Chloe Beale. Not in school- they usually avoided one another after Bumper’s Halloween party, two semesters ago. She didn’t remember, much- the fowl taste of beer, the flashing lights, a kid in a skeleton mask, and Chloe Beale’s lips on hers. Cherry, and tart with alcohol.

Her cheeks reddened at the thought, all-encompassing. “Right, I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to tell me that.”

“Oh?”

Chloe took a few steps backward before turning completely and walking towards the double doors. Aubrey struggled to avert her eyes, knew that she had to, but couldn’t find a way to do it. Chloe could feel them on her- swinging her hips intentionally.

She found herself letting out a trembled breath once she exited into the hallway. Her arms were burning, and so were her cheeks. Aubrey M. Posen had always been intimidating; in her fancy blazers and thick reading glasses. Her lips tingled, and she pressed two fingers against them to quell the sensation. The girl probably didn't even remember her on Halloween night, that stupid skeleton kid, drenched in fake blood, and the flashing lights that spurred her drunken stupor.

Chloe pressed her back against the painted brick wall and let the coolness drip through her sweaty t-shirt. She hadn’t slept well the night before, and practice before the day had even begun made her bones ache and her stomach turn.

She was going to be late for class, she knew that before they had even finished listening to coach Morris reminding them (for the third time that morning) about the pep rally on Friday. She peeled herself from the wall, blinking away the light from the trophy cases, before slinking into the locker room. It was empty now, the remaining scent of body spray and lotion clouding her lungs.

Chloe quickly changed and pulled her bag over her shoulder. She didn’t’ have a pink slip, not as she should, but figured that Mrs. Gordon would excuse her this once. She would slide into first-period Chemistry and try her best not to disturb the room more than she had to.

“Miss Beale,” She felt her heart seize, Mrs. Gordon’s eyes on her, lifting from the workbook that she was struggling to flip through. The rest of the room had taken to staring at her too, roaming eyes and giddy for a distraction, no matter how small. “Take the nearest seat.”

It would certainly be easier than working her way around the room, through the bags and the lab stools. She glanced sparingly at the empty seat closest to her. Beca Mitchell lifted both of her eyebrows and shifted the camera bag to the floor, allowing her to take a seat.

“Flip to page seventeen, The building of Electron’s and Neutrons”

Chloe reached for her bag, but before she could Beca shifted the textbook towards the middle of them, letting her scan her eyes over the annotated version of the paragraphs. She had never expected Beca Mitchell, resident outcast and photographer, to go through the nightly reading and actually absorb it.

She smelled thickly of cloves and chemicals. It was earthy but comforting. It almost relaxed Chloe from the morning, brought her down to a familiar buzz after sharing a conversation with Aubrey in the gym. She blinked through her lack of focus and tried to concentrate on something other than how close the alt girl was, and how their knees almost met under the lab table.

Beca reached up and turned the page, Chloe realized she hadn’t read a single line.

[genesisrose74]

𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕒𝕣𝕕! -> 𝕤. 𝕕𝕒𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕚

| the piggyback passages series |

Installment 1: in which a late study session at the school library becomes a bit too monotonous for your taste.

Pairing: Daichi x Reader

“Daichi~” comes a tired whine within the corner of Karasuno’s library. The quaint space was still sufficiently filled even by this time of evening, with stars emerging in the night sky shining between smudged window panes. If it weren’t for final exams creeping around the corner, it would have already emptied out by sundown, but worries concerning the following week proved a great motivation to hit the books.

The volleyball captain twists around from his seat to meet your eyes, one arm resting against the cool wooden table on which his notes sat, and a knowing look swimming in his eyes. With a quick scan, he observes your figure splayed across the couch, lounging around on the furniture as if it was your family living room. His tone is inquisitive, but it’s clear he knows the next words that would fall from your mouth. “Hm?”

“It’s late,” you state, propping your head on an elbow. “Whatever knowledge you’ve retained thus far is the best you’ll be acquiring tonight, I’m afraid.”

“You sound awfully devastated at the news,” he notes, heavy doses of sarcasm dripping from each word.

“Oh yes, I’m mortified that there is no longer a reason for my boyfriend to ignore me.”

He scoffs, standing from his chair and cracking his back after a long session of preparing for class exams. “You’re so dramatic.”

You can’t help the grin that stretches across your face. “Yet you date me anyways.”

“Why is that?” His voice is teasing, an easy smile of his own visible from your spot on the furniture, even as he turns to put away his study materials.

“Because I’m the best, clearly.”

The third year chuckles warmly and zips up his bag before turning to you once more. He takes a small step towards the couch you occupy before leaning down to place a quick kiss on your forehead - one that leaves your body unexplainably fuzzy. “You are the best.”

You lift your head slightly to better meet Daichi’s gaze as he straightens up, making grabbing motions with your hands as you stretch your arms out to follow behind his retreating figure.

“Would the best boyfriend mind carrying his favorite person to the car,” you ponder, “to maybe drive said individual home?”

“Oh no!” he gasps with clear exaggeration. “Has someone already hit lazy mode tonight?”

“Mhm.”

“Well that’s no good.”

It’s impossible to hide the squeak of surprise that leaves your lips when you’re hoisted off the couch and brought into the Karasuno captain’s chest. He wraps his arms around your waist with ease, successfully entrapping your figure against his larger frame. Simply from Daichi’s natural body heat alone, you’re quick to warm up in his proximity. Sometimes you questioned how the hell he was always so cozy, but you wouldn’t dare complain.

The third year dips his head down towards your ear, placing a small kiss to your temple. “You’re gonna have to carry my backpack if you want a comfortable journey to the parking lot.”

He can feel you nod against him at the negotiation, and a small chuckle reverberates in his chest at the act. “Good. It’s not that heavy, so don’t worry.”

With a hint of reluctance to part with the fire-like warmth that your boyfriend radiated, you take hold of his (rather light) backpack and sling it around your shoulders. Daichi offers an easy smile before taking your hand in his own, leading you through the library door and into the more secluded school halls. Rays of moonlight filter through the slightly dusty windows in gentle beams, naturally painting the space in a glow that made clear the time of night.

“Alright,” the volleyball captain pipes up, crouching down until his knees stood a foot from the ground, “All aboard.”

Despite the lighthearted scoff that leaves you at his phrasing, you grab hold of his shoulders for balance before hopping onto his back. “Do I need a ticket to be on this train?”

“It’s all expense-free, sweetheart.”

You nestle your face into the side of Daichi’s neck to stifle a full blown laugh, the knowledge of still being near the library’s doors prompting some respectful caution for those still studying. He gives a playful squeeze to your legs, taking a moment to readjust your placement on his back before starting the trek to the school parking lot — with surprising ease, you might add, considering the additional weight he now carried. He was quite the seasoned volleyball player after all.

In the midst of a mostly quiet walk to the car, with your chin resting comfortably atop the top of his shoulder, your mouth quirks up into a smile.

“Hey, Dai?” comes the partially-sleepy inquiry.

The amused smile on his own face was clearly illustrated through his voice alone. “Yeah?”

“How did I possibly get such a wonderful train ride for no fees at all? That seems like an unfair exchange.”

“I mean, you can tip the conductor if you want.”

He opens up the double doors of the school exit as you giggle at his last suggestion, the cooler air of the evening not a bother in the slightest. “How would the conductor like that payment?”

He laughs, “Any way the passenger sees fit.”

You quirk a brow, titling your head to the side to examine his front-facing gaze. He in turn offers a curious glance to the side, but doesn’t think much of your slight change in positioning until a light kiss is placed against his cheek.

“How about a few installments of those?” you suggest, pursing your lips together to suppress another set of laughter. A triumphant grin does manage to cross your face, however, when Daichi’s expression melts into tender satisfaction. His words hold an abundance of warmth as he helps you find ground on the solid concrete below, leaning an arm on the side of his car while opening the passenger door with the other.

“Those work very well.”

[yellowsugarwords]

I know this is late but how would the e kids celebrate Valentine’s Day with their s/o?

awe this is so sweet!! I hope you enjoy buddy :)

Clementine: Clem always though the premise of Valentine’s was great. “The day itself is stupid.” She’d always say. “You don’t need to give someone gifts for them to always know you care.” So, on Valentine’s, she made a point of showering her partner in double the love of a ‘normal day’. Sweet kisses on the forehead, hand holds and squeezes, and affirmations.

Marlon: Marlon would smile noticing his partner emerging from the school. Excitedly, he trotted up to them. “No chores today.” “What?” Y/N asked, brows raised. Instead, Marlon whisked them away to the attic of the school, decorated with snacks, candles, sodas, and flowers. “It isn’t much, but we’re having a relaxing day today.” He said with a smile. “I hope that’s okay?” Y/N thought it was the sweetest gesture.

Louis: Louis would smile the moment he spotted Y/N exiting the school that morning. He darted to them, snagged their hand, and pulled them back in. “You gotta come with me first!” He’d say. Y/N grunted as they were tugged away. “Good morning to you too?” Louis whisked them into the music room, decorated with lights, candles, and flowers. “I have a song I want to play for you.” He said sweetly, admiring the stars in their eyes as they studied the room. “I figured I’d make the room fit the mood.” Y/N was smitten.

Violet: When Y/N opened their door to leave their bedroom that morning, Violet was leaned against a nearby wall, holding a cluster of dandelions in her hand. Y/N gawked, taking them with rosy cheeks and a bright smile. “What do you want to do today?” Violet asked, sliding forward to kiss their cheek. “We’ll do it all. You just name it, okay?” 

Mitch: Mitch would be waiting outside their bedroom door when they emerged that day. “What are you doing here?” Y/N asked with a smile. Without a further question, he wandered up and placed a sweet kiss on his partner’s lips. “Spending the day with my best friend. Why?” He was feigning innocence and being sweet, and Y/N thought it was adorable. All day, he pampered them with love. Kisses, hand holds, sweet gifts; anything and everything he could think of.

Aasim: Aasim would smile seeing Y/N emerge first thing that morning. They started chores as usual, heading on their hunting trip as they often did. They second they got away from the school, Aasim tugged them to the side. “I wanted to give you this, but I wanted to wait until we were alone.” He pulled a small necklace out of his pocket, one that he made himself. A pretty rock and a tattered string, but Y/N absolutely loved it.

Ruby: Ruby would knock on their door first thing in the morning, scurrying in without warning. “Good morning sweetie! I made you something!” She handed them a hand-knit blanket (a little wonky, but adorable nonetheless) and three flowers. “I know it isn’t much, but I wanted to give you something.” She smiled, giddy and thrilled. Y/N thought it was the sweetest gift ever.

Omar: Omar would smile, scurrying in with a tray of breakfast food. “Good morning, my sweet!” He’d say, plopping the tray down beside them. “I made your favourite. I hope it turned out okay.” He’d press a sweet kiss to their forehead and sit on the end of their bed, his eyes locked on them. “What all would you like to do today?”

Brody: Brody would smile when they emerged from the school that morning, nervously wringing her fingers. She approached them and slipped them a card. “Here. This is for you.” She smiled nervously, her cheeks bright pink. The card listed everything she adored about her partner; every little thing. “I’m not really good at saying it. So, I wrote it down for you.” She looked nervous for their reaction, but the beamed, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips.

𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 💌☕️♡

[thr-333]

Mismatch- Part 25

In my defence I didn’t forget about updating here, I just didn’t want to.

First < Previous

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

“How do I look?” Marion asks as people fuss around him, not least of all Marinette herself.

“I hoped that would be obvious seeing as I designed this look,” She smirks at him eyes sparkling he can tell since the whites of the Domino mask are removed.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re the greatest and all that,” He waves her off as a stylist tries to tame his hair to fit the messy look she wanted.

“Well it is true isn’t it?” She teases, someone also trying to follow her with a brush and comb as she flies around the room in a whirl of designing.

"Perhaps," Marion hums, gaze drifting over to the door where he notices a familiar figure, Marinette follows his smile.

“Luka!” Marinette exclaims, wrapping her friend in a hug, “When did you arrive?”

“Last night," Luka smiles, she was glad she got the chance to become his friend again as MDC, not that he knew their secret identity, "This city is so majestic,”

“Gotham at night?” Marion scoffs, turning in his seat, only to get scolded by the stylist, “Are we talking about the same place?”

“CD maybe you just haven't taken the time to really hear the city’s song,” Luka strums a few cords to demonstrate, “You should its melody compliments your own,”

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Marion shrugs, sitting forward again, “Do you think you can use it to reach out to the Gotham audience? I really want to connect with them,”

“Will do boss,” Marion sticks his tongue at him, Luka only ever called him that in jest.

Luka gives a playful wave leaving to go sort out the music. He had his own responsibilities as the opening act. Marinette feels someone watching them and dismisses the stylist, congratulating her on a great job. She looks a tad peeved as Marion's hair is largely the same as when she entered, but many employees are used to the twins randomly leaving anyway. The door to their dressing room clicks closed and the presence makes itself known.

“What can we do for you, Batman?” Marinette asks, offering him a seat, although she knows he won’t accept it.

“MDC,” he inclines his head, not showing if he was taken aback by her catching him out, “We have reason to believe the concert will be attacked tonight,”

“Yeah, we thought that might happen,” Marion gets up, stretching, “Just try to keep whoever away from the crowd and we can handle the rest,”

“You don’t seem to understand, after the last attack-”

“Sorry to cut you off,” Wow it was weird acing professional around the same guy they had been tormenting the past few weeks, “But that was an impromptu event this one has been planned out for years,"

Officially not but they had designed the building to help them catch akuma in Paris while keeping an event going, they just applied that design to Gotham.

"If you would like to call in the rest of your coworkers we can show you the defenses we have in place so you can work with them,”

Batman seems surprised. What did he think they were just air-headed celebrities? Well, that wasn’t going to be the only surprise of the day then. Sure enough, he calls everyone in and Marinette’s a little hurt to see he invited everyone but Sparrow and Songbird to join in the fun. She hides this fact leading the ragtag group through the backstage area. Spotting their manager she walks over.

“Could you please clear our schedule we want to give them a personal tour of our security measures,” She asks Kate, to her credit only looking mildly surprised to see the whole Batfam trailing after them.

“I thought you might, I’ve already worked it into your schedule, just make sure you're there in time for the costume checks,” Kate looks down tapping away at her tablet, “Also call your uncle arrived in town last night he’ll want to wish you good luck so watch out for him,”

“We couldn’t do it without you,” Marinette beams, letting her go to attend her other duties.

They must make an odd sight, two superstars guiding a pack of vigilantes like ducklings through the backstage. They go over all the security protocols. Safe rooms that the staff was instructed to go to under certain circumstances. There were carefully lain traps that only a few people could trigger to set off. On the stage itself was a secret compartment Marion could make a quick getaway to get change in, a tunnel leading backstage. The entire backstage was a maze in itself all the staff specially trained to navigate it.

To protect the audience they hadn't packed it nearly as much as they could have so it meant it easier for them to reach the exits. Indeed there were hidden emergency exits that people could escape through if villains blocked the obvious ones, they were set to reveal themselves if that was the case. There were also hidden trapdoors in rows of seats that would glow if people were forced to duck behind the seats. It leads to underground tunnels that would lead them safely away. There were even tunnels connecting to the staff safe rooms so they could come and direct the audience as needed. Marinette had made sure to make the tunnels look inviting ad pleasant so no one would panic at being underground.

Then there were the special (comfy) perches that they showed to the Batfamily, each situated to look over everything and be hidden by the lights. There were wires leading to the stage and audience in case they needed to get down quickly and quietly. They also made a web above that they could run along and run any interference with ariel attacks. They also gave them each a blueprint of the stadium so they could see all the secret tunnels that were perfect for a surprise attack. There were ones leading into the entrance subtle enough someone could be pulled in while walking into the building, for the purposes of catching criminals before they even entered. There was also a trap door that could open underneath, she gave them each a remote control to these, warning them to use them wisely. Each hidden door leads to a room suited for fighting, carefully crafted to give the bats and edge.

It had taken a long time and a lot of money but they had invested, making a safe place they could rent out to other performers so there could be more shows in Gotham conducted safely. She could tell that by the end of the tour even Batman was impressed as they headed back to the stage through the empty audience seating.

“Hey! Superstars!” Jagged's voice booms across the arena, waving from the entrance of the place.

“Uncle Jagged!” Marion jumps over seats to reach him, Marinette a step behind him as they both tackle him into a hug.

“Good to see you too,” Jagged ruffles their hair, Marinette sends a silent apology to the stylist, “This place looks Rockin!”

“You bet just wait till I take the stage,” Marion grins, as they both hug Penny and Fang as well.

“Why wait! Show me what you got,” Jagged sends Marion off, who runs to the technicians asking if they can do an early mic check, everyone scrambles to make it happen.

“So how’re you finding Gotham?” Jagged asks her, walking with a side hug back towards the Batfamily.

“Oh, you know… busy,”

“I’d say the news with Marion? That was wicked!”

“Yes… wicked,” Penny pales at just the memory, and yeah fair enough.

“Yo Batman great to meet you!” Jagged boisterous nature meets Batman’s stoic one but the poor guy barely has a chance to adjust before Jagged’s moving on.

“Yo Red Hood right?” Hood looks a little shocked as Jagged claps a hand on his shoulder, “You saved my nephew, I really owe you one!”

“Oh-that's not- I just,” Marinette shares a smirk with Jagged which would have surely had Marion screaming.

“Yeah, he really looks up to you!” Jagged has him spluttering more, she would show him mercy but they only have so much time before Marion catches on.

“Oh Uncle Jagged I wouldn’t phrase it like that,” Marinette says in a suggestive tone, the stage is still empty of Marion.

“Of course, no I’d say it more that...” Marinette could actually laugh as Red Hood practically vibrates from anticipation, “He likes you,”

I think we just killed  him, Marinette notes as Red Hood internally combusts. Well now wasn't the time to show mercy.

“I’d say that's putting it rather lightly,” Marinette smirks as Red Hood is sent into another spluttering mess, and oh how she wishes he wasn't wearing that helmet.

“Right it’s more like-”

“Stop it both of you,” Penny’s reprimand has them both doubling over with laughter. The Batfamily looking absolutely bewildered. Minus of course, Red Hood who they may have to call an ambulance for soon if he doesn't start breathing.

“What are you two laughing at?” Marion walks to the edge of the stage, someone fusses with a microphone not too far away.

“Nooothhinggggg,” They chime simultaneously, with matching grins.

“Penny?” Marion all but whines, fidgeting nervously.

“They haven’t said anything bad,” She assures him, Marion foolishly relaxes.

“Hey is this the guy that saved your hide?” Jagged asks, having the guts to swing his arm around Red Hood’s shoulders.

“Uncle Jagged,” He hisses at the same time Penny hisses ‘Jagged’.

“You should thank him... sing endless!” Jagged exclaims, and Marinette couldn’t be sure he hasn't been planning this from the start, “You wrote it for him didn’t you?”

“Not for him its not-” Marion makes a bunch of vague gestures, “You know?”

“Not at all,” Jagged grins, dragging Red Hood closer to center stage seats, he plops down Red Hood right in the middle of the stadium. The rest of the Batfam take seats around them. “Sing Endless!”

Marion is scowling but doesn't have much other choice as a stagehand tell him he’s all set. He takes the microphone. Marinette mimes at him to breathe, he rolls his eyes but does anyway. The music starts Marion hitting his cue and with just the first few words she could see the tension drain away.

“And the world starts slowly caving it~”

It was such a gentle song. So many people had told him and still told him that it didn’t fit the violent vigilante. The producers had argued they should just fit it to someone else, someone people liked more. In the end, they had caved to Marion's arguments probably because it wasn't made to be an upbeat pop song so they weren't too attached to the money making aspect. That didn't stop the audience from arguing about it afterwards. Some claimed they just randomly selected the song, or that they shouldn't have done one for him at all.

Marion pointedly told them they were all wrong. And looking at Red Hood now, completely enthralled with Marion's singing she could tell that, yeah it had fit him perfectly all along.

"All the words you said were they true? or just selfish li-es~"

Marinette broke her gaze away from Marion to look at the rest of the Batfamily. Suffice to say they were all enthralled, hopefully they wouldn't be this distracted at the concert tonight. Although she supposed it was a good thing they were doing the mic check now so they could watch now and focus later. Then again she doubted Red Hood would be much use regardless, he was leaning forward in his seat the rest of the world dead to him. To fair Marion wasn't much better. In a crowd he would look around or at least pick a random stop to sing to no one. This time however? this time he was locked on to Red Hood sinign directly to him and he probably didn't even realise.

"Gave all I ever had try to make you laugh try to please you~"

Batman looked uncomfortable at the line. Judjing by the times she had seen them spend together there was a tension between them a past she didn't know. How Marion managed to pick up on that long before they came to Gotham she doesn't know. It was almost like he could see into his soul, a connection there despite never having met, like the pull of a miraculous.

"All I know is gone, now I'm all alone~"

Marion wasn’t testing out the mics. That much was obvious. He was straight up performing. And no he hadn’t written the song for Red Hood persay. But she had watched him every night and day agonize over the right words to use, the tune, the feeling behind it. Scraping up every bit of information he could it was probably more thorough than any police investigation done on Red Hood. It was then she realized, their room covered top to bottom in pictures of him covering the ones she had of Adrien, that Marion had completely and utterly fallen for the guy. No, it wasn't a song for him, it was a love letter for him, to him, about him. It was a picture that painted exactly how Marion saw him.

And she was willing to bet that the only people that didn’t realize it were them, both completely captivated by each other as Marion finished.

“What is it~” He holds the next note until the music fades out into nothingness, “Inside~”

The music stops, Marion opening his eyes, almost seeming startled that there were other people sitting before him. It’s only then he seemed to realize that there was more than just one other person in the arena and spirited off to check with the sound. It was as he turned to walk away Marinette could tell Hood had seen it, the robins newly stitched up the back of his jacket.

[oliviajames1122]

3 Symptoms of a Malfunctioning or Faulty Hazard/Indicator Relay

The hazard and indicator lights on the vast majority of road vehicles are controlled by a relay, also referred to as a flasher.

The relay is an electrical device that controls the lighting by acting as a switch. According on the vehicle's specific needs, they come in a range of shapes, sizes, and designs when current is given to the relay, the circuit within cuts on and off, resulting in the relay clicking sound and the turn signal or danger lights blinking.

While flashers are a basic component in both design and function, they play a significant part in a vehicle's overall driveability and can jeopardise safety if they fail. If you check MOT history of your vehicle and realise a previous MOT failed due to the lights not working, there could be two reasons for this. Either the bulb(s) had blown, or it was a faulty relay. To confirm this go through any previous repair invoices (if available).

Are you aware that, according to an online MOT history checker, one of the most prevalent reasons for a MOT test failure is the lights? The bulbs in your cars high and low beams, left/right indicators, hazards, and other lights may need to be replaced.

A faulty or malfunctioning flasher relay usually causes a few indications that warn the motorist to a possible problem. A few signs are as follows:

1.      Hazards or indicator lights don't work - The most typical indication of a defective or faulty flasher relay is the absence of hazards or indicator lights. When the indicator lever or hazard light button is pressed, the relay can break or have internal issues, causing the lights to malfunction or not respond at all. While this is unlikely to affect engine performance, it will leave the vehicle without working hazard lights and, more crucially, indicators, which can be dangerous. This is why you should check MOT status and have the problem fixed to avoid a failure. This could also be something simple as a blown bulb.

2.      Hazards or indicator lights remain on - Hazards or indicator lights that remain on are another sign of a malfunctioning flasher relay. When the hazards or indicators are engaged, if the relay has an internal short circuit, the hazards or indicators may stay on instead of flashing. While the lights may continue to light, they will no longer be able to signal a turn or warn other motorists of an emergency incident. Electrical faults can generate similar symptoms, so getting your car correctly examined by a car mechanic is essential.

3.      Additional lights aren't functioning - Along with your hazards; you could notice that other lights, such as headlights, daytime running lights, and even brake lights, aren't working. Other lights may be wired via or with the relay on some cars, causing a problem if the flasher relay fails. If you look online for 'check my MOT history' and discover that your car previously failed the MOT test due to the lights not working, the relay or something as simple as a burnt-out bulb might be to blame.

While faults with the indicator/hazard relay usually do not impede the vehicle's ability to drive, they might present issues that threaten visibility and safety. While flasher relays are not sophisticated components, because to the very convoluted structure of electrical systems, they can be difficult to diagnose. Whether you suspect a problem with your vehicle's relay or not sure if a bulb has blown out, get it diagnosed by a skilled technician to see if the relay needs to be replaced.

How can you know whether an indicator light is turned on?

The simplest way to test the indicators is to turn on the hazard lights. After turning on the hazard lights exit the car and double-check that all six lights are working. Your car has two in the front and back, as well as one on each side (front wings). Remember, you don't have to start the engine to answer this question, simply switch on the ignition.

[realjessicareyes]

february 13, saturday. ravi’s party. the warehouse. @ponderosus​

Lost in the dark pulse of music and the reflective lights of disco balls, a million panes of glass casting color upon the crowd, the walls, the ceiling, Jessica is happy. She has spent so much of the night dancing that faces and movements blur in her mind in the best way: laughter and warm touches and flirtatious words coalescing in a drunken blur. Clearest in Jessica’s mind as she makes her way into the women’s lounge on the arm of a statuesque redhead who recognized her from a press launch last year, are from moments ago: dancing with Wren, who is dressed in a beaded vintage dress that Jess recognizes from her forays into Ravi’s massive closet; beaming gratefully at them as they pull her away from overly touchy men; then winking at them with mischief when she sees their gaze stray towards Rafael’s indefatigable assistant Sebastian. “Alright, I know when I’m not wanted,” she remembers saying, her wink overly large and exaggerated as she makes a little half-twirl to exit, stage left, trilling, “Have fuuun!”

As expected, the lounge is full of women touching up their makeup, and after emerging from the cubicle, she offers her cheek for air kisses and compliments: “You look stunning, Marlène! Don’t tell me you cut your hair just for this?!” “Oh, this? It’s Elie—he’s a genius.” And when one of them pulls out a bottle of Armand de Brignac Brut Gold from god-knows-where—what are they, teenagers, carrying their own contraband everywhere?—Jess bursts into lavish giggles, taking it from them to take a swig: inelegant, yes, but what happens in the ladies’ room stays in the ladies’ room—or at least emerges as a way cuter story than it actually was.

Jessica can’t quite remember what comes next, stories and gossip blending into one another. But when she is finally alone, she finds that she can’t stop grinning. With less graceful movements than she’d like, she hoists herself up onto the sink, dress riding up to expose warm skin, and runs a hand through her tousled hair while she pulls out her iPhone, types out an impulsive wish you were here xx, makes to send it—

The muffled sounds of gunfire make their way through the closed double doors of the lounge, sending a cold chill down Jessica’s spine. What the fuck? A part of her hopes it’s a DJ’s ill-advised choice to play MIA’s Paper Planes in the middle of an otherwise fire set, but the adrenaline shooting through her body, the blood rushing through her ears, the instincts of a Power, say otherwise. “Shit,” she whispers, pushing herself off the sink; her legs nearly buckle beneath her as she stands, sending panic through her system—she’s been drinking, but she isn’t that drunk—but she leans against the wall as she fumbles for her Lady Dior pouch and the revolver in it, makes to delete her last message and replace it with, kitty did you hear t

The door swings open. “Kitty,” Jessica says urgently, her drug-addled state making her believe that her cousin has received a message she hasn’t even gotten to send. “What’s happening outside?” But as she glances up from her phone, she freezes, her blood running cold.

Not Kitty. Not Marlène. And definitely not a friend.

Fuck.

[orangegreet]

No Minor Miracles | Chapter 6

A Weed in Autumn Part One

In which our Immortal Idiots reunite in more ways than one.

The time had come for the Darkling to make his move on the Ravkan throne.

A dozen years ago he had been on the cusp of enacting his plans when his long fabled Sun Summoner presented herself to him. With a quaint little glow in her palms and the secret of her existence shared between them, he fostered new aspirations.

A whirlwind romance. A joint coup. Eternal Sovereigns.

Together they would liberate their people from oppression, slavery and slaughter.

Together they would ride into the Fold, manipulate it’s borders and neutralize the threat of their enemies.

Together they would reunite with their countrymen and women in the West.

Together they would return home to the Little Palace, fostering the next generation with authority and care.

Together they would write treaties and forge alliances.

Together they would bring Ravka into a shining new age of prosperity.

They would serve for millennia. They two would preserve their home country—a safe haven for all Grisha, so long as they reigned.

Visions of Alina, seated in his lap as he lounged on the throne, had heated his midnight hours for a time.

It was a barren dream now.

Unpublished work with third-act problems and a stubborn lead.

Once-cherished ideas now sat abandoned in a journal and stored in the hidden pockets of his private library.

The time had come to prepare something new. The Darkling knew of the private meetings conducted by the Tsar and the Tsesarevich behind closed doors. They were fools to believe he would not uncover such treachery.

The Darkling dealt in treachery long before their foolish line ever came into existence.

In earnest, he began new designs. Plotted key points, dates, events to leverage and, after thorough deliberation, invited Ivan and Fedyor into the process. Second Army spies collected intel ushered from every point of Ravka on both sides of the Fold.

New dreams and better fitting plans emerged to fit the circumstances. The coup was underway. It was now a matter of time.

The months following their reunion were some of the happiest in Aleksander’s memory. Their visits occurred multiple times a week and varied between degrees of urgent desire, meandering conversations and simply lounging in the peace restored from using their connection.

A sweet little humming vibration put his unease at bay for a little while.

Aleksander no longer pressed her for details, satisfied enough that he at least kept his own secrets in return.

He hungered for the day when he could tug on their tether from the dias of the throne room, crowned in the jewels of Ravka. He would extend an invitation to her to join him at a formal court gathering and soak in her shock.

Though it was unlike him to vibrate restlessly in anticipation of anything, this daydream was too enticing to fight it.

Several cold centuries of loneliness might have hardened him into stone—an everlasting and virtually unchanging being—but even stone had a melting point under the right conditions.

The one thing not eased by their supernatural visits was the urgency his body felt to be with her in person. The yearning doubled each time he saw her and he would inevitably pull her body to his, demanding she succumb to his request for a true meeting.

Early on, she was resilient to his commands. Over time her resolve was gradually ground into a brittle patience.

He continued pressing, praying for the snap. One night in autumn, she relented.

“Five days. Three weeks from tonight, I will meet you at the edge of the Fold just south of Adena.” Alina placed a tender kiss on his lips, holding his face between her palms. “Five days, that is all I have. But they are yours.”

Aleksander was speechless.

He kissed her in return and then once again in a bruising way that furrowed his brow and produced a groan from his very soul.

Before they parted, he repeated, “Three weeks exactly from tonight. Five days together. Leave it to me to arrange everything for us.”

He pressed a kiss into each of her palms.

The horse shuffled a few steps, apparently ill-at-ease being so close to the Fold. Aleksander laid a gentling hand to it’s mane. He squinted into the dense shadow before him, determined to see the little light bobbing inside.

Anticipation wrung his guts and he could only be thankful Ivan and Fedyor were not present to witness his darting eyes or gaping mouth—the humiliating lurch of his body when he sensed the slightest movement within the Fold.

Alina and he had decided to meet under the cover of night for obvious reasons. Anyone seen casually entering or exiting the Fold would not go unnoticed.

Although, Aleksander insisted this meeting take place before dawn, unwilling to compromise the loss of a whole day. She had blushed and agreed.

The ride from Os Alta to Kribirsk took almost a full week as it required traveling with troops and carting along the newest generation of Sandskiff.

The pilot run was to take place in a couple weeks time. Fortunately, this provided cover to be away from the Little Palace for the month which was preferable given how close he was to enacting his designs on the throne.

Ivan and Fedyor knew little about the current assignment. Fedyor was to remain in Kribirsk overseeing the troops during the General’s unexplained absence.

Ivan was to head on to the dacha which would be the home for him and Alina for the next five days.

The location, an Os Altan nobleman’s dacha in the country, sat between Adena and Kribirsk. This had been the most difficult piece of the arrangement to secure. However, an obscene amount of money and a plausible cover story carried him through and the situation would be quite refined, all told.

Aleksander would have no less. Five days with the center of his very soul would not be spent in anything less than luxury.

Every meal would be catered, every bath drawn for them and every distraction dealt with by more capable hands. This time was going to be sacred and shared between they two alone. No distractions. Of this, he was determined.

A bed, a home—things both he and Alina had lived without during different times in their lives—were not to be in question.

At his core, Aleksander felt an intoxicating desire to care for her. To show her how well he could care for her body, her and her Light.

Sex in the real world was easily arranged for and exchanged on whim. He intended to ruin her to her very core with the way he would care for her being.

The way he would sate her being would be outright. Irrefutable. She would have no way to go back after these days.

The General considered leaving Ivan at the front and taking Fedyor along to oversee the dacha staff for the week. Upon further thought, however, he considered it preferable to stomach the occasional side-eye from Ivan over the blushing delight which would be sure to issue from Fedyor if given half a second alone with Alina.

In the quiet and in the dark, Aleksander assured himself once more of this plan. It was right and it was good. This was no mere woman to woo.

This was the Sun personified.

This was the Light which mitigated his existence.

If he could not properly honor her gift, he deserved to be struck out of the world at her hand.

He felt her nearing him before his other senses caught up.

Something was coloring inside his lines. It filled him up as she closed in.

A flicker of light cut through the shadow. Or rather, the shadow moved around it, parting in reverence for the light.

Aleksander maintained some twenty steps of distance from where she would exit the Fold.

Hooves clopped over packed earth.

A white mare emerged from black curtain, the rider atop it dressed in black.

From his distance, he watched Alina stroke the mane of her horse. Watched her hair slide around her shoulders as she looked in each direction for him.

Aleksander swallowed.

He climbed to his horse and trotted in her direction. When she caught sight of him, seated tall and proud on his black steed, she beamed.

“Hello.” She said, softly in the dark.

“Hello.” He returned her a small smile.

Lifting his reins, he indicated their direction. He did not feel capable of speaking somehow.

She nodded, still smiling and trotted her horse alongside.

The journey was silent. Birdsong filled in the background, rising in volume as they neared the dacha. The night would be coming to a close soon.

Though the silence persisted between them; neither was moved to end it. He managed to keep his smile soft for her and she, for once, took her direction from him.

As they reached the gardens, Aleksander dismounted his horse and waited for her mare to come to a halt. He tethered both their reins together and reached for her, lifting her small body in his hands and setting her on the ground.

They stood together, his black eyes rested on hers. His hands cupped her waist while hers pressed on his chest. He kissed her forehead with reverence, then her cheeks. She blushed under his attention.

Together they walked to the door.

Everything was set up as directed.

Wisps of steam rolled over the surface of the water in the large bath off the bedroom and Aleksander looked at Alina with a question in his eyes.

He thought he heard the ghost of a laugh in her throat. She smiled and began to undress. After a moment, he followed suit.

Curiosity colored her features and she stared, utterly unabashed, at his naked body. He straightened his back, pausing to allow her to look her fill before stepping into the water.

The heat of the water licked up his legs. A chill broke out over his skin at the sudden rise in temperature and Aleksander turned back toward her, extending a hand.

She preened a moment under his questing gaze.

It was pleasing to get to watch as he became aroused for her. Her eyes swept below his waist to his swelling cock and then back up to his eyes.

The shyness of the smile on his face should have been astonishing—she was sure he had never before in all his centuries held this expression on his face.

However, outright astonishment would have broken the fragile quiet. Alina stored the memory away for herself for later and joined him in the heat.

Under his unwavering gaze, Alina assumed his consent and picked up the soap from beside the bath. With tender strokes, she began to bathe him, working the soap into a lather over his skin.

The smallness of her hands was something he relished, breath stuttering as she passed them over his chest, brushing his nipples and wrapping up his throat. His eyes fell closed a moment.

She looked drugged, lost in her work. Watching as his Adam’s apple bobbed under her palm. The ends of his long hair dampened against the skin of his broad shoulders.

Tracing the lines and crevices of the muscles on his shoulders and then down his arms. Her face acquired a dewy glow from the rising steam.

Aleksander forced his hands to stay at his side, determined to observe her only. To let her explore as she wished.

When she reached his waist, her eyes lifted to his again. The way she looked at him tested his resolve. Alina stared into his dark eyes even as her hands lowered into the water.

The soap lost it’s lather in an instant as she rubbed it along his thighs, pausing then to grip at the thick muscles.

They both watched her hands reach for his cock, erect and swaying under the surface.

Her small hands relinquished the soap as she wrapped him up in her palms and fingers. Her breath hitched and she rubbed the slippery residue all over him, twisting her hand a little at the top and reaching for his balls underneath.

Her wet skin on his wet skin, sliding easily with the assistance of the soap. The sense of power she felt was heady, holding him in both hands, feeling him throb under her grip. Feeling him grow larger.

Her mouth opened unconsciously as she watched her hands holding him, still stroking him in that slow, smooth slide.

“‘Lina…” he groaned and she stopped, smiling in innocence at him and brought her hands back to his thighs. She rubbed over his thighs in comfort, persuading him to calm what she aroused.

Aleksander took a couple deep steadying breaths before he opened his eyes. His hand lifted and caressed her throat, holding her little neck in the entirety of his grasp.

Her lids closed slowly and she tipped her head back to allow him access as his large thumb smoothed over her pulse.

She was nothing more than a small deer with her neck caught in the mouth of wolf. She waited for the wolf’s sentence. A grunt issued from his throat and he let go, his palm brushing down her body.

With calloused hands, he picked up the abandoned soap from the floor of the tub. Smearing it in his grip so the lather returned and he began to bathe her, mapping her curves.

He massaged his fingers into every divot around her collar and ribs, her navel and hips.

He spread the lather to the tops of her breasts, around the sides and back up the center of each. His fingers dragged over her nipples and she hummed, the drugged look making another appearing across her face.

He thought to kiss her again, almost closing the distance before the thought could fully form.

Aleksander pulled back.

He was determined to let them ease into this week slowly. Determined to infuse devotion into every movement this first day instead of letting the pure need take over. It would eventually.

The need was Inevitable.

However, this was a time for care and attentive patience. Alina was a star on earth, bright and celestial and wild. She was a star who was owed proper worship and Aleksander was the only being in the universe capable to treasure the responsibility. To see it through in it’s entirety.

And yet, as he brought his hands under the surface of the water, he could not stop himself from leaning into her mouth. His teeth gently tugged on her lip as he enveloped each of her inner thighs into his large hands below the surface, spreading her legs until they met the tub walls.

When his teeth let go of her lip, he kissed the swollen little thing, pink and protruding under his gaze. She whimpered for him, making him smile.

Thighs still in his grip, his thumbs rubbed along the inner path where her legs joined her hips and her skin was fine and sensitive.

With another soft kiss to her mouth, his thumbs parted the lips between her legs. Under the surface he felt her wet slick even as the water tried to sweep it away with every fond stroke of his thumbs.

“Aleksander…” her eyes were closed and his thumb ran slow circles over the prize. Her sweet, swollen clit, supple and sensitive under his touch.

Only for him, he wanted her to promise.

She moaned. It was a broken, little gasp.

Her eyes were closed but her mouth lifted to be kissed again. Unable to resist the request he met her lips with his own. His tongue brushed hers and carefully stroked into her mouth while his thumb continued coiling around her clit. Painstakingly slow and gentle.

Alina lost control of her jaw, panting.

When he felt her head slipping against his, her forehead falling to his jaw, he abruptly lifted his free hand from the surface and grasped her around the throat again, directing and holding her mouth to his.

Alina whimpered again into his mouth and he felt every inch the brutal wolf to her submissive doe. He could keep his action reverent and still be himself—evidently, she enjoyed the ways he took control.

When she cried into his mouth, he squeezed his eyes shut in response. The painful pleasure of her orgasm echoed to him across their connection and he was unable to dismiss the emotion easily.

A tempering rub to her thigh and he removed his hands, gliding them up her arms and kissing her once more, imbued with tenderness.

He parted with a deep steadying breath for himself and reached for the pitcher. Scooping the water inside and tipping it back over her shoulder, he began to rinse her. Though the suds down her torso were mostly gone now.

The water cleaved pathways through the white lather and past to her navel. Aleksander watched the shapes change across her skin as he erased them entirely, eyes lingering on the way the water pooled in her collar bone and skated into drips clinging to her rosey nipples.

Lifting her chin with a gentle finger, he poured water over her hair, careful to keep it from falling back into her eyes. She moaned again at the renewed warmth.

Alina took the pitcher from him, repeating the rinse on his body.

His long hair was let loose after a tug to the leather strip and she ran fingers along his scalp as she washed it.

She towered over him, kneeling to reach around the back of his head and Aleksander could not help the way his mouth reached for her breast, offered so freely just an inch from his face.

He laved her peak with his tongue, lifting the water from her skin as if he was drawing the juice from an overripe plum.

The pitcher slipped into the water behind him, apparently cast aside, while her arms wrapped around his head, holding him to her. Her ribs fit between the span of his large hands and he guided her body where he wanted it.

Aleksander suckled the water from one breast and repeated on the other. She moaned into his wet hair.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her body into his. Bare, wet skin pressing against bare, wet skin. Softened by the water. A moment of calm before they were done.

Aleksander lifted her out of the tub, setting her back on the mat and joining her with a towel. He dripped onto the floor as he dried her.

His chest thrummed with a building anticipation.

It was not dissimilar to what he felt on the last night he saw her all those years ago. Something inside of him knew he was about to join with her. Knew they two were about to exist in the exact same space for a few precious minutes.

Judging by the look on her face, she felt it too.

He took the towel from her and set it aside, lacing their hands as he led her into the bedroom.

When he sat on the edge of the bed, she took up her rightful place between his legs.

Aleksander met her eyes, never looking away as he pressed a kiss to her sternum. His hands lingered over her hips, drawing her into his lap. Her legs fold around his hips as her soft bum rested on his knees.

Alina kissed him then.

It was a surprise at first but as they both sunk into the act, it felt as planned as the existence of either of them. As the balance of the universe. Light and Dark meeting and touching as they always would; pressed together.

He pulled her hand from his shoulder and down to his cock and emitted an involuntary groan into her mouth when she stroked his head.

Alina picked up his hand for her use, pressing his fingers into her mouth where she coated them. His brow furrowed in unrequited pleasure as he watched her guide his slick fingers down to her core where she rubbed herself with his fingers.

An untempered growl sounded from the back of his throat and he tipped her forward with his knees, her body falling toward his cock.

She yelped in surprise and then smiled; a challenging look alight on her face.

Aleksander held her stare with his and shifted the head of his cock into her slippery cunt, Thrusting together in tandem until she enveloped his cock from tip to base.

“Fuck.” He grunted.

“Saints, Sasha.” She said simultaneously.

Aleksander’s hands stroked her sides absently, enjoying the warm little cage around his cock more than he had anything in his long, long life.

She began to move first, unhurried and attentive, clutching at him with her inner muscles on every upstroke.

Whenever he bottomed out, his grip on her hips tightened and he rolled her against him. Joint moans rumbled between them.

His forehead fell to her breasts and he placed an open mouthed kiss to her valley. Lips wrapped around her nipples and he lapped at the buds with agonizing tenderness.

Her arms cradled his head to her body and she rested her cheek to his hair as she had done before. Her cries melded into whimpers at the aching sweetness of his ministrations.

He was not cruel to her. Not this first time. He did not toy with her. She did not tease him.

As their mutual pleasure built, so did the humming of their chests.

It went unacknowledged at first, the urge to reach the edge of the cliff became a runaway train and nothing else mattered.

Alina rocked over him and wailed into the sunrise as she reached that euphoric edge and dawn arrived at last, sunlight breaching the horizon and painting the room in an orange glow.

Aleksander pulled her mouth to his, latching on as he rocked into her depths and holding her moans on his tongue until he finally burst deep inside her. It felt as if he burst once and then again and again after.

His nose nuzzled against hers and they rested there, occupying a single space in the universe as one, his cock still pulsing as he filled her.

Wave after wave of energy passed through them and the light of dawn pressed an insistent pinky-red into their eyelids.

Only, it was not the dawn’s rays at all. Light was expanded from between their chests. Power stretching and concentrating into a single strand.

Heat lightning entwined in black tendrils of shadow.

Their eyes met, a combination of fear and awe.

With a hesitant hand, Aleksander grasped it.

Unbridled power charged through him and he was transported into nothing.

Dark and Light surrounded him in lingering wisps and vibrant currents and only when he realized he was alone there did he let go of the strand.

Alina had not moved from her place in his lap. The strand dissolved into nothing between them.

His eyes were wide and fearful and she looked on him, calm and understanding set in her gaze.

Her hands soothed him, stroking over his hair and brushing it behind his shoulders.

“You have seen what I knew must be at the very center of us.” She whispered.

Aleksander opened his mouth to speak, though no words came. He knew what she was going to say before she said it.

“The Making at the Heart of the World.”

Some Three Weeks Later

The General stretched from his seat at the desk. The new Sandskiff would leave on it’s maiden voyage through the Fold in the morning. David assured him the way it was built would make it the swiftest model yet.

Truthfully, the General had lost much interest in these voyages anymore. The existence of a Sun Summoner, for one thing had made the need for a Sandskiff practically moot. It was just a matter of time now.

Aside from that, there was still the matter of an imminent coup which kept him preoccupied.

The first steps of which would be initiated in a week’s time with the autumn equinox and the impending Summit of Allies. The General need only accomplish this mission and return to Os Alta.

His reappearance, along with those of visiting dignitaries and noble people would create the ideal chaotic cover required to assassinate a Tsar and his heir.

As if that were not enough to occupy his mind, vivid, feverous flashes of his week with Alina would appear and incapacitate him.

Being with her had made him feel insatiable in the after.

It was as if her body trained his to need something more than water and he could not stop thirsting for her skin against his anymore.

When they parted she told him she would not be able to be in touch for at least three weeks.

Not by tether, not by anything.

The panic it set off in him at the thought was unsettling, though he found he was more forgiving of himself on this side of their discovery.

Could he be helped if the first elements in existence which crashed into each other to form their very world seemed lived inside of them both?

Could he help that they came with the unfortunate side effect of reducing him into a feral wolf for a woman? Possessive and endlessly ravenous?

This was beyond Small Science. This was beyond love. This was cosmic and Inevitable.

He would not chastise himself for feeling any longer.

The General had just managed to fall asleep when the unmistakable sound of frantic hooves approached the camp.

He was already pulling on his kefta when Ivan entered the tent, Fedyor on his heels.

“Urgent news from Os Alta, moy soverennyi.”

The General took the letter, ripping the seal and reading words which stilled the earth around him.

The Tsar has been assassinated. The Tsesarevich will pass within the week. You are to return to Os Alta with your army within a fortnight.

The words, written in the careful cursive of the Apparat’s hand, seared into his mind and shook him to his core.

Aleksander’s eyes were wild with disbelief as he thrust the letter at his Heartrenders.

With complete disregard for the company in his tent, Aleksander reached for the tether and pulled.

Alina did not answer. He felt her there, somewhere across the Fold and far away.

He pulled again, desperate and needy to see her. He knew she could feel his panic. Knew that she would have to feel it between them.

She did not answer.

The only response available in their shared connection, underneath her desire and her devotion to him, was an undeniable tinge of guilt.

[newstfionline]

Monday, September 20, 2021

Biden’s Entire Presidential Agenda Rests on Expansive Spending Bill (NYT) Biden’s entire presidential agenda is riding on the reconciliation bill being crafted in Congress right now. No president has ever packed as much of his agenda, domestic and foreign, into a single piece of legislation as President Biden has with the $3.5 trillion spending plan that Democrats are trying to wrangle through Congress over the next six weeks,” Tankersley writes. “It is almost as if President Franklin D. Roosevelt had stuffed his entire New Deal into one piece of legislation, or if President Lyndon B. Johnson had done the same with his Great Society, instead of pushing through individual components over several years. If he succeeds, Biden’s far-reaching attempt could result in a presidency-defining victory that delivers on a decades-long campaign by Democrats to expand the federal government to combat social problems and spread the gains of a growing economy to workers. If he fails, he could end up with nothing. As Democrats are increasingly seeing, the sheer weight of Mr. Biden’s progressive push could cause it to collapse, leaving the party empty-handed, with the president’s top priorities going unfulfilled. … If Mr. Biden’s party cannot find consensus on those issues and the bill dies, the president will have little immediate recourse to advance almost any of those priorities.

Child care in the US is a ‘broken market,’ Treasury report finds (Yahoo Money) A Treasury Department report this week characterized the U.S. child care system as “unworkable” as Democrats push reform that experts say is an “overdue and critical investment.” The average American family with at least one child under age 5 uses 13% of their income to pay for child care, according to the report, nearly double the 7% that the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services considers affordable. Additionally, less than 20% of the children eligible for the Child Care and Development Fund—a federal assistance program for low-income families—are getting that funding. “Child care is a textbook example of a broken market, and one reason is that when you pay for it, the price does not account for all the positive things it confers on our society,” Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen said in a statement on Wednesday. “When we underinvest in child care, we forgo that; we give up a happier, healthier, more prosperous labor force in the future.”

Inspiration4 Astronauts Beam After Return From 3-Day Journey to Orbit (NYT) After three days in orbit, a physician assistant, a community college professor, a data engineer and the billionaire who financed their trip arrived back on Earth, heralding a new era of space travel with a dramatic and successful Saturday evening landing in the Atlantic Ocean. The mission, which is known as Inspiration4, splashed down off the Florida coast at 7:06 p.m. on Saturday. Each step of the return unfolded on schedule, without problems. Within an hour, all four crew members walked out of the spacecraft, one at a time, each beaming with excitement as recovery crews assisted them.

Haitians on Texas border undeterred by US plan to expel them (AP) Haitian migrants seeking to escape poverty, hunger and a feeling of hopelessness in their home country said they will not be deterred by U.S. plans to speedily send them back, as thousands of people remained encamped on the Texas border Saturday after crossing from Mexico. Scores of people waded back and forth across the Rio Grande on Saturday afternoon, re-entering Mexico to purchase water, food and diapers in Ciudad Acuña before returning to the Texas encampment under and near a bridge in the border city of Del Rio. Junior Jean, a 32-year-old man from Haiti, watched as people cautiously carried cases of water or bags of food through the knee-high river water. Jean said he lived on the streets in Chile the past four years, resigned to searching for food in garbage cans. “We are all looking for a better life,” he said.

Three Weeks After Hurricane Ida, Parts of Southeast Louisiana Are Still Dark (NYT) For Tiffany Brown, the drive home from New Orleans begins as usual: She can see the lights on in the city’s central business district and people gathering in bars and restaurants. But as she drives west along Interstate 10, signs of Hurricane Ida’s destruction emerge. Trees with missing limbs fill the swamp on either side of the highway. With each passing mile, more blue tarps appear on rooftops, and more electric poles lay fallen by the road, some snapped in half. By the time Ms. Brown gets to her exit in Destrehan 30 minutes later, the lights illuminating the highway have disappeared, and another night of total darkness has fallen on her suburban subdivision. For Ms. Brown, who works as an office manager at a pediatric clinic, life at work can feel nearly normal. But at home, with no electricity, it is anything but. “I keep hoping every day that I’m going to go home and it’ll be on,” she said. Three weeks have passed since Hurricane Ida knocked down electric wires, poles and transmission towers serving more than one million people in southeast Louisiana. In New Orleans, power was almost entirely restored by Sept. 10, and businesses and schools have reopened. But outside the city, more than 100,000 customers were without lights through Sept. 13. As of Friday evening there were still about 38,000 customers without power, and many people remained displaced from damaged homes.

Favela centennial shows Brazil communities’ endurance (AP) Dozens of children lined up at a community center in Sao Paulo for a slice of creamy, blue cake. None was celebrating a birthday; their poor neighborhood, the favela of Paraisopolis, was commemorating 100 years of existence. “People started coming (to the city) for construction jobs and settled in,” community leader Gilson Rodrigues said. “There was no planning, not even streets. People started growing crops. It was all disorganized. Authorities didn’t do much, so we learned to organize ourselves.” The favela’s centennial, which was marked on Thursday, underscores the permanence of its roots and of other communities like it, even as Brazilians in wealthier parts of town often view them as temporary and precarious. Favelas struggle to shed that stigma as they defy simple definition, not least because they evolved over decades. Paraisopolis is Sao Paulo’s second-biggest favela, home to 43,000 people, according to the most-recent census, in 2010. Recent, unofficial counts put its population around 100,000.

The barbecue king: British royals praise Philip’s deft touch (AP) When Prince Philip died nearly six months ago at 99, the tributes poured in from far and wide, praising him for his supportive role at the side of Queen Elizabeth II over her near 70-year reign. Now, it has emerged that Philip had another crucial role within the royal family. He was the family’s barbecue king—perhaps testament to his Greek heritage. “He adored barbecuing and he turned that into an interesting art form,” his oldest son Prince Charles said in a BBC tribute program that will be broadcast on Wednesday. “And if I ever tried to do it he ... I could never get the fire to light or something ghastly, so (he’d say): ‘Go away!’” In excerpts of ‘Prince Philip: The Royal Family Remembers’ released late Saturday, members of the royal family spoke admiringly of the late Duke of Edinburgh’s barbecuing skills. “Every barbecue that I’ve ever been on, the Duke of Edinburgh has been there cooking,” said Prince William, Philip’s oldest grandson. “He’s definitely a dab hand at the barbecue ... I can safely say there’s never been a case of food poisoning in the family that’s attributed to the Duke of Edinburgh.” The program, which was filmed before and after Philip’s death on April 9, was originally conceived to mark his 100th birthday in June.

Relations between France and the U.S. have sunk to their lowest level in decades. (NYT) The U.S. and Australia went to extraordinary lengths to keep Paris in the dark as they secretly negotiated a plan to build nuclear submarines, scuttling a defense contract worth at least $60 billion. President Emmanuel Macron of France was so enraged that he recalled the country’s ambassadors to both nations. Australia approached the new administration soon after President Biden’s inauguration. The conventionally powered French subs, the Australians feared, would be obsolete by the time they were delivered. The Biden administration, bent on containing China, saw the deal as a way to cement ties with a Pacific ally. But the unlikely winner is Britain, who played an early role in brokering the alliance. For its prime minister, Boris Johnson, who will meet this coming week with Biden at the White House and speak at the U.N., it is his first tangible victory in a campaign to make post-Brexit Britain a player on the global stage.

Hong Kong’s first ‘patriots-only’ election kicks off (Reuters) Fewer than 5,000 Hong Kong people from mostly pro-establishment circles began voting on Sunday for candidates to an election committee, vetted as loyal to Beijing, who will pick the city’s next China-backed leader and some of its legislature. Pro-democracy candidates are nearly absent from Hong Kong’s first election since Beijing overhauled the city’s electoral system to ensure that “only patriots” rule China’s freest city. The election committee will select 40 seats in the revamped Legislative Council in December, and choose a chief executive in March. Changes to the political system are the latest in a string of moves—including a national security law that punishes anything Beijing deems as subversion, secession, terrorism or collusion with foreign forces—that have placed the international financial hub on an authoritarian path. Most prominent democratic activists and politicians are now in jail or have fled abroad.

The Remote-Control Killing Machine (Politico/NYT) For 14 years, Israel wanted to kill Iran’s top nuclear scientist. Then they came up with a way to do it while using a trained sniper who was more than 1,000 miles away—and fired remotely. It was also the debut test of a high-tech, computerized sharpshooter kitted out with artificial intelligence and multiple-camera eyes, operated via satellite and capable of firing 600 rounds a minute. The souped-up, remote-controlled machine gun now joins the combat drone in the arsenal of high-tech weapons for remote targeted killing. But unlike a drone, the robotic machine gun draws no attention in the sky, where a drone could be shot down, and can be situated anywhere, qualities likely to reshape the worlds of security and espionage.

Israeli army arrests last 2 of 6 Palestinian prison escapees (AP) Israeli forces on Sunday arrested the last two of six Palestinian prisoners who escaped a maximum-security Israeli prison two weeks ago, closing an intense, embarrassing episode that exposed deep security flaws in Israel and turned the fugitives into Palestinian heroes. The Israeli military said the two men surrendered in Jenin, their hometown in the occupied West Bank, after they were surrounded at a hideout that had been located with the help of “accurate intelligence.” The prisoners all managed to tunnel out of a maximum-security prison in northern Israel on Sept. 6. The bold escape dominated newscasts for days and sparked heavy criticism of Israel’s prison service. According to various reports, the men dug a hole in the floor of their shared cell undetected over several months and managed to slip past a sleeping prison guard after emerging through a hole outside the facility. Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza Strip have celebrated the escape and held demonstrations in support of the prisoners. Taking part in attacks against the Israeli military or even civilians is a source of pride for many Palestinians, who view it as legitimate resistance to military occupation.

Jaw-dropping moments in WSJ's bombshell Facebook investigation (CNN Business) This week the Wall Street Journal released a series of scathing articles about Facebook, citing leaked internal documents that detail in remarkably frank terms how the company is not only well aware of its platforms’ negative effects on users but also how it has repeatedly failed to address them. Here are some of the more jaw-dropping moments from the Journal’s series. In the Journal’s report on Instagram’s impact on teens, it cites Facebook’s own researchers’ slide deck, stating the app harms mental health. “We make body image issues worse for one in three teen girls,” said one slide from 2019, according to the WSJ. Another reads: “Teens blame Instagram for increases in the rate of anxiety and depression ... This reaction was unprompted and consistent across all groups.” In 2018, Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg said a change in Facebook’s algorithm was intended to improve interactions among friends and family and reduce the amount of professionally produced content in their feeds. But according to the documents published by the Journal, staffers warned the change was having the opposite effect: Facebook was becoming an angrier place. A team of data scientists put it bluntly: “Misinformation, toxicity and violent content are inordinately prevalent among reshares,” they said, according to the Journal’s report.

[buckleyirondad]

No. 14. Is Something Burning? “Fire”

When a night out goes drastically wrong, Pepper realizes that she and Michelle lead a similar life.

AO3 Link

Pepper adored Peter.

She had since the day she met him.

She constantly thanked him, silently, and sometimes, to his face, for being a part of their lives.

Even when he was gone, for those five years, his impact, lived on.

They wouldn’t have Morgan, if Peter hadn’t taught Tony, at the right moment, that he could step out of Howard’s shadow and be a good dad.

Having Peter back, made everything fall together, perfectly, for the first time.

Hand-in-hand, with Peter, came Michelle.

Peter’s everything, his partner in crime, and somebody for him, to effortlessly tease Tony with.

Pepper loved her too, and the influence she had on Peter, she seemed to be helping him overcome hurdles that no one else could.

A double date sounded far fetch, at first, but Michelle proposed it, and Pepper finalized it.

They made quite a team.

An old theater was showing a highlight of Charlie Chaplin’s movies.

All four of them liked old movies, which made for the perfect night out, where superheroing duties took a backbench.

Pepper skipped through the foyer, leaving Tony at the desk, to check in their coats “Hey.” She laid her hands on Peter and Michelle’s shoulders, “If I were you two, I would have asked to sit far far away from us.”

Michelle snorted a laugh, “Why?”

Peter frowned, tilting his head, to his shoulder, “Is this about the Charlie Chaplin look-alike competition?”

Michelle grinned, ear-to-ear, “The what now?”

Pepper waved her hand dismissively, “My husband claims that he won a Charlie Chaplin lookalike competition.”

Tony appeared beside her, “I didn’t claim anything,” He chipped in, “It’s true.”

“Oh, my God,” Peter inclined his head, pressing his hands together, gesturing them towards Tony, “You literally wouldn’t shut up about it last night, it’s why I volunteered to carry Morgan to bed.”

Tony’s jaw dropped, he made an act of raising his hand, to his chest, “I’m offended, kid.”

Peter narrowed his eyes, “Also, I looked it up last night, and there were zero results.”

“Nobody knew it was me,” Tony raised his shoulder in half-shrug, “I used a pseudonym.”

Pepper pulled on his arm, “Oh, look, we can sit down now.”

They all started walking into the theater, in an orderly fashion.

Tony leaned forward, “I’m gonna find the photos later.”

Peter turned, keeping his arm linked with Michelle’s, “So, Friday—"

“Friday has nothing,” Tony sang, “Like, I said, nobody knew it was me.”

Pepper shook her head, with a laugh, “We get it.”

“Should we get—” Michelle and Peter spoke in unison, “—Popcorn?”

They acted normal because it happened all the time.

They were the definition of cute, Pepper was sure.

Tony leaned in, whispering in her ear, “How adorable.”

She gently nudged his foot, with hers, “Leave them alone.”

Tony clapped his hands together, “I’ll pick us up some popcorn, you lot can go and find our seats.” He shuffled away, quick on his feet.

Pepper took a seat, on their aisle, leaving the space between her and Peter free, for Tony. She buried her hand in her pocket, to check if May had messaged her with any questions about Morgan.

All she'd been sent was a selfie of the pair watching Finding Nemo.

She sent back a couple of heart emojis.

Peter and Michelle’s gentle chuckles caught Pepper’s attention. The duo were holding hands, muttering among themselves, desperately trying to conceal their laughter; Peter was red in the face, and whatever they were discussing, had brought tears to Michelle’s eyes.

Pepper smiled, they were truly infectious, and she couldn’t get enough of them.

Michelle had become a vital part of their everyday lives, rather fast, but Pepper would have it no other way.

She saw the way they looked at one another, the longing stares, and the soft smiles.

They’d fallen hard.

Something, Pepper once did, twice a day, with Tony.

It took them a while, to make it work, but it did.

Pepper saw herself, in Michelle, which was good, on some days, but heart-breaking on others.

Peter and Tony’s lives weren’t exactly normal or easy. 

Pepper kept Michelle as close as possible because she understood the hardship of being hopelessly in love, with someone who laid down their lives, for the greater good, every other month.

They were on the same page.

Tony tiptoed over, holding two buckets of popcorn, “Here we go.”

Peter and Michelle sang, through a laugh, “Thank you.”

When the movies started playing, the audience went silent, but Pepper still caught the pair sharing little anecdotes, trying not to burst into hysterics.

An hour in, Michelle sat up, looking around.

Tony spoke, in a hushed tone, “What’s up?”

She turned, “I’m trying to work out where the toilets are.”

Tony pointed, “By the entrance, on your left.”

“Thanks, Stark,” She kissed Peter’s cheek and hopped up, “I’ll be back.”

Tony leaned over, whispering something in Peter’s ear, the kid’s cheeks turned a new shade of red.

He jokingly slapped Tony’s arm away, “Shut up.”

Pepper rolled her eyes, “Stop messing with him.”

Tony held out his hands, with a shrug, “May said I can.”

Pepper looked past him, to Peter, “Don’t worry, honey. He’s got no leg to stand on.” She chuckled, “I’ve got plenty of embarrassing date night stories.”

Tony sighed, head in his hands, “Pep…”

She winked, “I’ll tell you later.”

Peter laughed quietly, hanging his head.

A few minutes passed, and Pepper allowed herself to be drawn back into the movie.

She didn’t notice something was up until Tony’s tone switched.

“Kiddo, you okay?”

She spun her head, fast.

Peter was sat up straight, his eyes wide, and his leg mindlessly bouncing.

She raised her voice, “Sweetheart?”

Before Peter could answer, the piercing sound of a fire alarm filled the room, and the movie was stopped.

The lights came on, and an usher shouted, “Everybody make your way to the fire exits, as fast as you possibly can. Thank you.”

Everybody shot to their feet.

Tony tapped his watch, “Friday, report?”

“A fire has started, in the attic, and is spreading quickly.”

The usher yelled again, this time, more panicked, “Quickly, please.”

“MJ—” Peter shot up, looking around, “Can you see her?”

“The toilets are right next to the exit, buddy,” Tony reassured him, “She’s probably already outside.”

“I’m not sure—"

Somebody screamed, “Get out now!”

“That escalated—" Tony reached back, grabbing Pepper’s hand while gripping tight onto Peter’s shoulder, he pushed, making sure Peter didn’t freeze.

Pepper knew, for a fact, that Tony made contrasting promises.

It was an issue, with him.

He made one, to Peter, that basically meant that if it ever came down to it, Tony would have to save May, Ned, or Michelle, before Peter.

The other was one he made to Michelle, promising that he’d pull Peter, out of a fight he couldn’t win, even if Michelle’s life was on the line.

Tony could never win.

Peter kept shouting, over the chaos, “MJ!”

A crowd swarmed, at the exit.

Somehow, they were pushed to the front of it.

Peter held up his arms, screaming, at the top of his lungs, “Stop!” He waved his hands, signaling nearby people, “Stop moving!”

The urgency, in his voice, seemed to resonate with everyone.

A support beam, from the ceiling above them, collapsed, crashing to the floor.

Tony pulled on Peter’s shoulder, “Holy shit.”

The crowd moved again, leaping over it, as smoke started to envelop them.

A lady, in her forties, tripped, landing among the stampede.

“Hey,” Peter helped her onto her feet, “You okay?”

“Yes, thank you.” She rushed, into the bustle, that was moving outside.

Pepper lost sight of everything while moving from the building to the street. 

The sounds of sirens were already echoing, in the distance.

She shouted, squeezing Tony’s hand, “Tony, you got Peter?”

“Yeah,” Tony breathed, “I’ve got him.”

The crowd began to separate, giving Pepper room to see.

Peter was leaning up, to look across the herd, “MJ?!” He yelled, “MJ?”

Nothing.

Peter turned, eyes filled with tears, “She’s not here.”

Tony’s face fell, “Pete-“

Peter rested a hand on his chest, “I know she’s not..." 

“Kid—"

“I gotta—” He pulled his hand free, and before any more words were spoken, he sprinted back, into the burning building.

Tony shrieked, “Peter!” He spun to meet Pepper’s gaze, “What do—”

There was a deafening creak from inside.

Pepper’s lower lip trembled, “Oh, God—"

“Hey!”

Tony snapped his head back, a momentary look of relief, on his face, “Jones—”

Michelle charged, out from the side alley, “Hey, I’m—”

“MJ!” Pepper wrapped an arm around her, “We were so—” It dawned on her, she shot a look to Tony, “If you’re here, then Peter—”

Tony titled his head to his shoulder, a silent apology, as he let go of her hand and charged inside.

Michelle yelped, “Oh—”

Pepper held her tight, muttering under her breath, “Come on, come on—”

Another spine-chilling thud, came from inside, as the building fell apart.

“I—” Michelle cried, “He—”

Pepper whispered, “It’s okay…”

A figure emerged through the entrance.

It was Tony.

His face was covered, in patches of soot, and his hair, full of ash.

Dangled over his shoulder, was Peter.

Pepper’s stomach leaped into her throat, as she tightened her hand around Michelle’s hand.

She breathed a sigh of relief, when Tony smiled, with a nod.

Michelle pulled free, rushing over, “Peter!”

Tony lowered Peter onto his knees, rubbing circles against the teen’s back, “There you go.”

Peter coughed, “I need to find—MJ is—”

Michelle knelt, pressing a hand, to his cheek, “Right here, loser.”

He wheezed a laugh, “MJ—"

She leaned up, kissing his curls, “You’re an idiot.”

No, he’s your idiot.

He smiled, “You’d do it for me.”

“Yeah,” She tugged him into a hug, nestling her head, on his shoulder.

Tony moved over, locking an arm around Pepper, “Hey.”

She pulled him close, “Hey.”

Pepper knew it wasn’t normal, to be so accepting of these situations, but after fighting aliens, it was a walk in the park.

Michelle helped Peter to his feet.

Peter rubbed a hand, over his cheek, “That was fun.”

Michelle barked a laugh, pressing her head against his bicep, “Same time next week?”

Tony inhaled a cackle, “I’m thinking takeaway?”

Pepper nodded, “Sounds like a plan.”

Tony motioned aside, “We should get going.” He took out his phone, “Everybody is probably freaking out already.”

Pepper looked up.

Peter was whispering in Michelle’s ear again, and they were giggling to themselves like nothing had changed.

Say what you want about young love, Pepper knew that Peter and Michelle were the real deal.