#E-cigarette Products

[indizombie]

Tobacco already kills eight million people every year, and, irrespective of any impact of newer products like e-cigarettes, the huge global burden of tobacco mortality and morbidity can be expected to remain for decades to come. Tobacco growing, manufacturing, distribution, and use, all contribute to global warming through the emission of greenhouse gases. In fact, the tobacco product life cycle releases an estimated 80 million tonnes of carbon dioxide equivalent every single year. The tobacco industry’s emissions are larger than those for entire countries, including Denmark, Croatia and Afghanistan, and are comparable to emissions from the oil, fast fashion and meat industries.

‘Plastics, the Environment and the Tobacco Industry’, Tobacco Tactics

[tidalvape]

A Comprehensive Guide to Tidal Vape: Your Ultimate Vaping Destination in the UK

Vaping has become increasingly popular in the UK, and for good reason. Whether you’re a seasoned vaper or just starting your journey, finding the right products and reliable suppliers is essential. Tidal Vape is a trusted name in the UK vaping community, offering a wide range of products to cater to every vaper’s needs. In this comprehensive guide, we’ll explore everything Tidal Vape has to offer, from disposable vape kits to advanced vape kits, e-liquids, and much more.

Why Choose Tidal Vape?

Tidal Vape is more than just an online vape shop; it’s a one-stop destination for all your vaping needs. With a vast selection of high-quality products, competitive prices, and exceptional customer service, Tidal Vape stands out as a top choice for vapers in the UK. Here’s why:

Extensive Product Range

Tidal Vape offers an impressive variety of vaping products, ensuring that every customer can find exactly what they need. Whether you’re looking for a simple disposable vape kit or an advanced vape kit, Tidal Vape has it all.

Disposable Vape Kits: Perfect for those who want a convenient, no-fuss vaping experience, Tidal Vape’s disposable vape kits are among the most popular products. The Elf Bar Disposable Pod Device is a top seller, offering a hassle-free vaping solution with no need to refill or recharge.

E-Liquid UK: Tidal Vape provides a diverse selection of e-liquids, catering to all flavor preferences. Whether you prefer fruity, dessert, or tobacco flavors, you’ll find something to love. The Elf Bar Vape Liquid is particularly popular, known for its rich and satisfying taste.

Advanced Vape Kits: For those who want more control over their vaping experience, Tidal Vape offers a range of advanced vape kits. The Voopoo Argus A Pod Vape Kit and the OXVA Xlim Pro 2 Kit are standout choices, providing customizable settings and enhanced performance.

Starter Vape Kits: If you’re new to vaping, Tidal Vape has you covered with starter kits that are easy to use and provide a smooth introduction to the world of vaping. The Uwell Caliburn G3 Pod Vape Kit and Xros 4 Nano are ideal for beginners, offering a perfect balance of simplicity and functionality.

Pod Kits: Compact and portable, pod kits are great for vapers who are always on the move. Tidal Vape stocks popular options like the Wenax Q Pro and xros 4 nano, which offer a sleek design and excellent performance.

Competitive Pricing and Deals

One of the key reasons vapers choose Tidal Vape is the competitive pricing. Whether you’re purchasing vape kits, e-liquids, or accessories like replacement coils and 18650 e-cig batteries, Tidal Vape offers some of the best prices in the UK.

In addition to everyday low prices, Tidal Vape frequently runs promotions and offers discounts, such as vampire vape deals, allowing customers to save even more on their favorite products. This commitment to affordability makes Tidal Vape a go-to choice for budget-conscious vapers.

Quality and Safety

When it comes to vaping, quality and safety are paramount. Tidal Vape ensures that all products meet stringent quality standards, offering only the best to its customers. Whether you’re buying premium vape juice, ceramic coils, or 100 VG juice, you can trust that you’re getting a product that has been thoroughly tested and approved.

Tidal Vape also provides detailed product descriptions and customer reviews, helping you make informed decisions about your purchases. This transparency builds trust and ensures that you receive exactly what you expect.

Exceptional Customer Service

At Tidal Vape, customer satisfaction is a top priority. The team is dedicated to providing excellent service, whether you need help choosing the right product or have questions about your order. Their knowledgeable staff is always available to assist, making your shopping experience as smooth and enjoyable as possible.

Convenient Online Vape Kit Shopping

In today’s fast-paced world, convenience is key. Tidal Vape’s online store is user-friendly and easy to navigate, allowing you to browse and shop from the comfort of your home. With a wide selection of products, secure payment options, and fast shipping across the UK, Tidal Vape ensures that you get what you need quickly and efficiently.

Exploring Tidal Vape’s Product Range

Now that we’ve covered why Tidal Vape is a trusted name in the UK vaping community, let’s take a closer look at some of the popular products available.

Disposable Vape Kits

Disposable vape kits are ideal for vapers who want a simple and straightforward experience. These kits come pre-filled and ready to use, with no need for refilling or maintenance. Tidal Vape offers a range of disposable vape kits, with the Elf Bar Disposable Pod Device being a standout option.

Elf Bar Disposable Pod Device: This device is perfect for those who want a portable and easy-to-use vape. It’s available in various flavors, providing a satisfying experience with every puff. The device is small, discreet, and perfect for on-the-go vaping.

E-Liquids

E-liquids are the heart of your vaping experience, and Tidal Vape offers a wide variety to suit every taste. Whether you’re looking for a traditional tobacco flavor or something more adventurous, Tidal Vape has you covered.

Elf Bar Vape Liquid: Known for its high-quality ingredients and rich flavors, Elf Bar Vape Liquid is a top choice among vapers. It’s available in various nicotine strengths, making it suitable for both new and experienced vapers.

E-Liquid UK: Tidal Vape stocks a comprehensive selection of e-liquids in the UK, from fruity blends to dessert-inspired flavors. Whether you’re looking for something sweet, tangy, or savory, you’ll find it here.

Advanced Vape Kits

For vapers who want to take their experience to the next level, Tidal Vape offers a range of advanced vape kits. These kits provide more control over your vaping experience, with features like adjustable wattage, temperature control, and more.

Voopoo Argus A Pod Vape Kit: This advanced kit is perfect for vapers who want a powerful and customizable device. It features a sleek design, adjustable settings, and a long-lasting battery, making it a top choice for serious vapers.

OXVA Xlim Pro 2 Kit: Another great option for advanced vapers, the OXVA Xlim Pro 2 offers precision control and superior performance. It’s designed for those who want to fine-tune their vaping experience and enjoy a high-quality vape.

Starter Vape Kits

If you’re new to vaping, Tidal Vape’s starter kits are the perfect place to begin. These kits are designed to be user-friendly and provide everything you need to get started.

Uwell Caliburn G3 Pod Vape Kit: This starter kit is ideal for beginners, offering a simple and intuitive design. It’s easy to use, with a straightforward setup and smooth vaping experience.

Xros 4 Nano: Another excellent option for new vapers, the Xros 4 Nano is compact, easy to use, and delivers consistent performance. It’s perfect for those just starting their vaping journey.

Pod Kits

Pod kits are popular for their convenience and portability. Tidal Vape offers a variety of pod kits that are perfect for on-the-go vaping.

Wenax Q Pro: This pod kit is known for its sleek design and excellent performance. It’s easy to carry and use, making it a great choice for vapers who need a reliable device for everyday use.

Voopoo Argus A: Another top-selling pod kit, the Voopoo Argus Pro offers a combination of style, power, and portability. It’s perfect for vapers who want a high-quality device that’s easy to take anywhere.

Accessories and Replacement Parts

In addition to vape kits and e-liquids, Tidal Vape also offers a wide range of accessories and replacement parts to keep your device in top condition.

Replacement Coils: Tidal Vape stocks a variety of replacement coils to ensure your device continues to perform at its best. Whether you need coils for a specific kit or a universal option, you’ll find it here.

18650 E-Cig Batteries: For those using advanced vape kits, Tidal Vape offers high-quality 18650 e-cig batteries. These batteries are reliable and long-lasting, providing the power you need for extended vaping sessions.

Vampire Vape Mixing Calculator: If you enjoy customizing your e-liquids, the Vampire Vape Mixing Calculator is a handy tool that helps you achieve the perfect blend every time.

Special Deals and Promotions

Tidal Vape is committed to offering great value to its customers, which is why they frequently run special deals and promotions. Whether you’re looking to buy e-liquid online in the UK or get a discount on your next vape kit, Tidal Vape’s promotions help you save on your favorite products.

Vampire Vape Deals: These deals offer significant savings on popular Vampire Vape products, including e-liquids and accessories. Keep an eye on Tidal Vape’s website for the latest offers.

Elf Bar 1%: If you’re a fan of Elf Bar products, you’ll love the discounts available on Elf Bar 1% items. These promotions make it even more affordable to enjoy your favorite flavors.

Vape Prices: Tidal Vape is known for offering competitive vape prices, making it easier for customers to find high-quality products at affordable rates.

Conclusion

Tidal Vape is a leading name in the UK vaping community, offering a vast selection of high-quality products, competitive prices, and exceptional customer service.

[hritika1]

Global E-Cigarette Market Analysis, Size & Growth 2023-2030

Explore comprehensive E-cigarette Market analysis, stay updated on the latest E-cigarette Market trends, and discover the industry's size and growth potential.

[rodspurethoughts]

FDA Files Civil Money Penalty Complaints Against Four E-Cigarette Product Manufacturers

Action Is the First of its Kind Against Manufacturers Violating the Law Today, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration announced it has filed civil money penalty (CMP) complaints against four tobacco product manufacturers for manufacturing and selling e-liquids without marketing authorization. This is the first time the FDA has filed CMP complaints against tobacco product manufacturers to enforce…

[vapedazzle1]

[anqelically]

GOODBYE, MY DARLING | BEAST!OSAMU DAZAI

SUMMARY. you’ve set up a meeting with a member of the port mafia to gain information, yet the man that greets you treats you like an old friend from the past

WARNINGS. fem!reader, 2.8k words, beast!au spoilers, angst, you take oda’s place

NAVI | BSD MASTERLIST

you were never too keen on the idea of meeting someone whose face you’ve never seen. as a cautious woman, who also worked as a detective for a living, you’d normally deny a meeting with someone unfamiliar. however, to deny a gathering in your current situation could cost the life of a boy you took in as a subordinate.

the lives of those younger than you were of the utmost importance.

ryunosuke akutagawa was your subordinate, who, blindly, stormed into the headquarters of the most dangerous organization in yokohama. in order to save his little sister, akutagawa broke into the port mafia’s building by himself to get her back.

since he was a member of the agency, it was part of your mission to rescue him. as you walked towards a lone bar in ginza, you never forgot that. a cigarette burned away in your dominant hand as you walked towards bar lupin.

your aim was to aid akutagawa in what would happen after his escape from the port mafia. the reason you were meeting with the person in charge of of monetary security for the mafia was to gain information. with a threat dangerous to the port mafia, a bargain can be made. the akutagawas can be safe from the port mafia, and the port mafia can be safe from the government.

the cigarette in your hand was put out when you rubbed it against the brick wall. you threw the unfinished product into the trashcan nearby before you took quiet steps down the stairs towards the bar. you were sure it was the location based on the sign outside.

the moment you had opened the door, the mellow, low tune of jazz reached your ears. your e/c eyes scanned the almost empty bar in front of you. at the actual bar itself sat one lone man. from his stature, he was definitely not the old man you were expecting.

his hair, dark as coffee beans, covered his face before he turned around. a smile adorned the unfamiliar man’s face as he looked at you with a shine in his rich, brown eye. the other one seemed to be wrapped in bandages, just like the ends of his arms. he was handsome, if you had to say. but for someone dressed like a port mafia hitman, he greeted you like you knew each other well.

“n/n, it’s been a while,” he spoke, voice soft. “were you smoking again? i can smell the stench from a mile away, you know.”

“i suppose it’s not unusual for you to smell it,” you responded. “but you say it’s been a while... have we met before?”

the man closed his eye, an almost silent sigh escaping his mouth. once you could see his uncovered eye again, the shine that was once there seemed to dull. it was still there, but harder for you to see in the dimly lit bar. he pushed down the sphere of ice in his drink.

“no, we haven’t met yet. this is the first time. the first time i’ve entered this bar, first time i drank here, first time we’ve met here, in this crazy world. a whole lotta firsts, wouldn’t you say, n/n?”

“yeah, it’s a lot.”

you found yourself sitting one stool away from the man. a bittersweet silence was draped amongst the two of you and for some reason, you felt the urge to change it as soon as possible. you wanted to fall into light conversation you’d normally have with someone close to you. it was odd, really. you were here for a purpose, yet you sat by idly.

“hey, i’ve got a question.” if the man wasn’t going to speak first, you would. you asked, “if we’re going to sit here, what should i call you? i doubt you’d want me to call you mister bandages.”

“well, calling me yours would be just fine,” he playfully smirked at you. “darling wouldn’t be bad either.”

“so it’s going to be like that?”

“of course it is. i have a nickname for you, and you have one for me. it’s only fair, isn’t it? but, i have a question for you. if we’re going to be here, what would you like to drink? pick your poison, belladonna.”

you let your chin rest on your hand, “well, i usually only drink with my coworkers and when i’m tired. i always have a lime margarita, if you can make that for me, darling.”

he smiled as he went behind the bar, “hm, i suppose i can make it. but since you’re here with me for the first time, how about we drink something else for the first time too? i can make a mean french martini, surprisingly. i’ve watched it get made plenty of times.”

“if you insist, go ahead. if it tastes bad, don’t be surprised when i give you 0 stars.”

“ouch, how low.”

dazai, to your surprise, began to create the drink as if he knew the bar like the back of his hand. he grabbed the right drinks from their respective places without even looking at the labels to create the cocktail. it was as if the bar was his.

while he was at it, you asked him something that had been bothering you from the moment he first talked. “you called me n/n when i entered the bar, so it’s safe to say that it refers to me. why call me that?”

“why?” he hummed. “i should ask you that. do you not like it?”

“it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. it’s just… no one has ever called me that before. everyone just calls me y/n, but not you, clearly.”

he lowered his gaze and the corners of his lips turned up. that smile of his, you could read it clear as day. you were able to tell that this man wasn’t smiling from what you’ve said, not even genuinely smiling. he smiled for the sake of himself. you didn’t know what he was thinking or feeling, but you were sure it had to do with yourself. there was no way it didn’t.

“and no one’s ever called me their darling until you have, n/n. it’s another first for the both of us, and we did it together. but hey, i have some stories i’ve been living to tell you. can i?”

after giving him the go-ahead, he excitedly talked about dealing with a bomb and giving his underlings firm tofu. the way he told his stories was like a little child coming home from the first day of school and telling their parents about their new friends.

once he was done, he slid the drink right in front of you and took a seat. however, it was not the seat he was originally at when you walked into the bar. getting closer that he was, he sat on the stool to your left. he held up his drink and, as if it were engraved into your body, you clinked your glass against his without a thought.

“well go ahead, taste it! let’s see if it really is worth 0 stars,” he urged you.

the way he stared into your eyes with anticipation, it was another strange thing you’ve noticed. he was genuinely happy. he was probably the strangest person you’ve ever met, and you’ve met some odd people.

after having a thought, you picked up the glass. you pressed it against your lips and took a sip, aware of the eye on you. once you swallowed and set the drink down, you could see a satisfied smile in your peripheral vision.

“good, huh?” the brunette asked.

“it really is,” you confirmed. “not 0 stars.”

“see? what did i tell you, belladonna? a french martini suits you, though. you can always ask me to make you some if you want.”

“maybe. i’d ask if you can cook as well, but your firm tofu says otherwise.”

he chuckled, “yeah, i’m not much of a cook. i always had someone else cook for me. it was edible too. she was much better than i was at cooking. at a lot of things, actually.”

“she seems like a woman of talent.”

“that’s right, she was. i’ve missed her… i’ve missed her a lot these past years.”

“a mother?”

“nope, my mom had been long gone from my life. this woman… she was much more than that.”

you couldn’t find anything else to say, so you remained quiet. that was, until the bandage-wearing man brought up why you two even decided to meet in the first place. he asked for more details.

“a subordinate of mine is in danger, and i want to cut a deal. it’d be a miracle if he came out it one piece, let alone with the person he’s been searching for. if he makes it out, i have no doubt that the port mafia will hunt him down. i want to cut a deal that’ll benefit us both.”

after contemplating, he murmured, “akutagawa’s lucky to have come across a good teacher like you.”

“excuse me?”

“you don’t need to worry about akutagawa. after today, the mafia will never lay another finger on him. there’s no catch; he’ll be able to live the rest of his life in peace... besides, this is what i’ve had planned since the beginning... if he makes it out of the mafia headquarters alive, that is.”

what he told you was was confirmed your suspicions. taking another sip of the martini, you looked him straight in the eye. you’ve let yourself come off as laid back, but now your expression was stern. he was caught off-guard.

“tell me, why did you lure him? why did you lure akutagawa into your headquarters, osamu dazai?”

it went silent, so much so that the music didn’t reach either of your ears.

“guess you’ve figured it out. i can’t fool you, can i?” he quipped. “you’ve always been quite intelligent.”

“you’re the gave out the hints. when talking about the tofu, you talked about underlings. you spoke like you had a lot of them. then, you talked about akutagawa without me even saying his name. not to mention how you’ve had plans from the beginning. only the port mafia’s boss would know, and be able to plan much. you’re the reason akutagawa is searching for his sister in the first place. this is over.”

“no, wait-!”

dazai reached out his arm, but he halted at the familiar click of a gun. his eye widened and he could only look at you with a horrified expression. he didn’t even have to look down to know your trusty pistol was in your hand.

“please put the gun away,” dazai begged, his face contorting to an expression of sorrow.

“i’m sorry, but i’m afraid i can’t do that. if i do, who knows what’ll happen to me? but then again, i’m already screwed if this is a trap. the port mafia’s boss is cunning, so i’m done acting like we’re close.”

“i didn’t want to become the boss! i… and i didn’t think of it as an act, not at all. it’s the truth, i swear.”

he looked at you so sincerely that you almost dropped the gun from your side. raw emotion was behind his words, or so you thought. maybe he could still be lying to you? maybe lying to himself. after all, there are liars so good that they’ve deceived themselves.

you looked down at your lap, “i guess that i’ve got to come up with another plan for saving akutagawa. well, if i can leave this establishment alive, that is.”

dazai insisted, “this isn’t a trap. i would never even dream of doing something like that to you, n/n.”

“my name is l/n y/n, not n/n.”

another shot to the chest.

“right, y/n. you asked me why i lured akutagawa to the mafia headquarters, right? well, i did it to protect this world.”

you raised a brow, “this world?”

“this is but one of countless worlds. and in another world, the original world, you and i were- we were—”“

“i love you,” he recalls the light touch of your fingers burning up his skin, “and there’s nothing in any universe that would change that.”

“—we were friends. you and i were friends in the original world. we drank at this bar and spent time together talking about the most insignificant things.”

dazai can also remember your last moments. you were laying in your own pool of blood when he finally caught up to you. when you spoke to him, you spoke in that same calm voice you’ve always had. and then, the smoke of the cigarette in your hand had dissipated into nothing, just like the light in your eyes.

“even if that were true, that doesn’t change what you did to akutagawa and his sister. you separated them, and now here we are,” you reminded dazai. “we may have been close in the original world, as you call it, but we are enemies now.

“i love you—“

dazai’s eyes searched for something the air that wasn’t there. his eye darted around, and his lips would slightly part and shut after a few seconds. his face twisted as he continued to remember everything.

“—and there’s nothing in any universe that would change that.”

“it was hard... it was really hard fighting mimic without you in the organization. i had no choice but to take over for mori and make enemies of everyone around me to expand the business,” dazai finally looked back at you. slowly, his hands reached for your cheeks. “everything i did was for this world’s- for you. i needed a world where you can sit here, happy with the people around you again.”

for a reason you couldn’t decipher, the hand that held your gun began to tremble. well, maybe it had been trembling for a long time and you were only now just recognizing it. dazai’s hands, cold and soft at the touch, held your face as if you were the most delicate thing in the world.

it was a touch of a lover.

coming down to that conclusion, everything made sense to you. dazai always looked at you like you were closest thing to him, a lifeline if you may. his nicknames, the flirting, it was all because...

“we were in a relationship, weren’t we?”

dazai would’ve missed your words if the proximity between the two of you wasn’t this close. the way he froze in his spot had answered enough, and you could only sigh. slowly, you put your gun back into your jacket and rested your hands on dazai’s.

you gently pried his hands off of your face and held them between your own. you felt no specific feelings from the action, but you were sure dazai did based off of how his face softened.

“i’m sorry, but you have to leave your feelings out of this. i don’t know how you know what happened in the original world, and i won’t ask. i just have to tell you that i don’t feel what you do. like i said, you and i are enemies here. as long as you control the port mafia and i’m part of the armed detective agency, it’ll remain this way.”

“nothing in any universe that would change that.”

“i see,” dazai took his hands back and rested them on his lap. “well, the reason i invited you here in the first place was to say goodbye.”

“you really don’t plan on ever seeing me again?”

“you said it, didn’t you? we’re enemies as long as we’re associated with the organizations we’re in. so after today, i won’t see you again. it’ll only hurt more if i do.”

“then this makes this a goodbye,” you watched as he stood up from his stool, hands in his pockets.

“yes, it does. a life with someone you can say goodbye to is a good life, especially when it hurts so much to say it to them. am i wrong?”

“i guess you wouldn’t be... i haven’t said goodbye to anyone and have it pain me,” you replied, feeling bad for the port mafia’s boss.

“i hope you don’t for a long time. but one day, that time will come. you won’t be prepare for it, but all i can tell you is to let it in. feel everything, and see where it takes you.” dazai faintly smiled before he turned his back to you and began to walk away, “goodbye, n/n.”

“goodbye, my darling.”

painfully, dazai grit his teeth and resisted thew urge to look back. in goodbyes, that’s what they always do. they turn around and crash into the person they’re supposed to be leaving. he didn’t want to do that. this was his goodbye to you, even if it didn’t mean much. if he was going to keep this world functioning, he won’t leave it with you in any pain.

‘be happy, okay? even if it’s without me, be happy. as long as you’re alive, somewhere, i’ll be happy too’

it was a final thought he kept to himself.

NOTE. this remains one of my favorite fics i wrote (i <3 beast!dazai) so i had to bring it over first 🤞🏻

—reblog to support an author + join my taglist !

@lovedazai @enoojnij @spenzitz @aeshiiteiru @chuuyrr @ma3mae @piichuu @dreamlessimp @4nthonyyliving @ruru-kiss @worldussysblog @janbannan @underthetree845 @little-miss-chaoss @siiyoko @osameowdazai

[tidalvape]

Exploring the Best Vape Kits and E-Liquids in the UK: Your Ultimate Guide with Tidal Vape

Vaping has become a popular alternative to traditional smoking, offering a wide range of products that cater to different preferences and needs. Whether you’re a seasoned vaper or a newcomer, finding the right products can make all the difference. Tidal Vape is here to guide you through the best vape kits, e-liquids, and vape accessories available in the UK, helping you make informed choices for your vaping journey.

Introduction to Vaping in the UK

The UK vaping market is booming, with a plethora of options available for every type of vaper. From disposable vape kits to advanced devices, there’s something for everyone. Tidal Vape offers a comprehensive selection of products, ensuring that you can find exactly what you need, whether it’s a starter kit, advanced vape kit, or premium e-liquids.

Disposable Vape Kits: Convenience at Your Fingertips

For those who are new to vaping or prefer a hassle-free experience, disposable vape kits are an excellent choice. Brands like Elf Bar have taken the UK market by storm with their convenient and easy-to-use disposable devices. The Elf Bar Disposable Pod Device is perfect for those who want a straightforward vaping experience without the need for refilling or charging. With a variety of Elf Bar disposable vape flavours available, you can enjoy different tastes with minimal effort.

Pod Vape Kits: Compact and Efficient

Pod vape kits offer a compact and portable solution for vapers who want something more advanced than disposable kits but still easy to use. The xros 4 nano, Oxva Xlim Pro 2 and Voopoo Argus A Pod Vape Kit are top choices in this category. These devices offer a balance of performance and convenience, making them ideal for both beginners and experienced vapers. The Xlim Pro 2 kit, for example, is known for its sleek design and powerful performance, while the xros 4 nano, Voopoo Argus A offers excellent battery life and a robust build.

Advanced Vape Kits: Power and Precision

For vapers who want more control over their experience, advanced vape kits are the way to go. These kits typically offer adjustable settings, allowing you to fine-tune your vaping experience. The Voopoo Argus A and Xros 4 Nano are standout options in this category. With features like variable wattage, temperature control, and long-lasting batteries, these devices cater to vapers who want a more personalized experience.

E-Liquids in the UK: A World of Flavours

One of the best things about vaping is the wide range of e-liquid flavours available. Whether you prefer fruity, dessert, or menthol flavours, there’s something for everyone. Tidal Vape offers a vast selection of e-liquids, including popular brands like Vampire Vape. The Vampire Vape mixing calculator is a handy tool for those who like to create their own e-liquid blends, ensuring you get the perfect balance of flavour and nicotine strength.

For those who prefer ready-made options, Tidal Vape stocks premium vape juice from leading brands. Whether you’re looking for 100 VG juice or a specific flavour, you can find it here. Additionally, our selection of Elf Bar vape liquids is perfect for those who want a consistent and satisfying vaping experience.

Replacement Coils and Accessories

To keep your vape device performing at its best, regular maintenance is essential. This includes replacing the coils, which are responsible for heating the e-liquid and producing vapour. Tidal Vape offers a variety of replacement coils to suit different devices, including ceramic coils for a smoother vaping experience.

Vape Products Online: Convenience at Your Fingertips

Shopping for vape products online has never been easier. Tidal Vape provides a user-friendly platform where you can browse and buy everything from disposable vape kits to premium vape juice. Whether you’re looking to buy e-liquid online in the UK or find the latest vape kits, our online store has you covered.

Elf Bar: A Popular Choice for Disposable Vaping

Elf Bar has become a household name in the vaping community, particularly for those who prefer disposable options. The Elf Bar Disposable Vape offers a no-fuss experience with a range of flavours to choose from. It’s an excellent option for vapers who want to enjoy a high-quality experience without the need for maintenance.

Latest Innovations: What’s New in the Market?

The vaping industry is constantly evolving, with new products being released regularly. Some of the latest innovations include the Wenax Q Pro and the Uwell Caliburn G3 Pod Vape Kit. These devices offer advanced features and improved performance, making them a great choice for those looking to upgrade their current setup.

Price Considerations: Finding the Right Balance

Vaping can be as affordable or as premium as you want it to be. Tidal Vape offers products at various price points, ensuring that there’s something for every budget. Whether you’re looking for the best vape prices on disposable kits or investing in an advanced setup, we provide competitive pricing on all our products.

The Importance of Batteries: 18650 E-Cig Battery

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[drdemonprince]

this year I've finally started to really believe "the universe is indifferent to you, no one is in charge, there is no god watching you and no rules, do what you want" but I'm struggling to use it to live. My life fuel used to be self hate and a head-over-heels obsession with my phd advisor who I didn't want to let down. These things no longer fuel me and in theory "doing what I want" genuinely does include sticking out the last year of my phd, but I still can't seem to do anything I want. mostly I can't get out of bed. Maybe it just needs time, idk. Do you have any advice for the transition into actually living according to your own views and needs and wants? Thank you if so.

Clearly you still have grad school trauma brain, because you believe that your time in recovery from an exploitative labor environment should be spent productively pursuing personal goals. Just fuckin chill for a year or two dude. You don't gotta believe in things and work for a larger purpose all of the time. Sometimes you gotta just work on repairing damaged tissues and getting through the day.

After a long while of truly rotmaxing, work on finding small things to want for yourself, like a tasty treat or an album you want to buy or a friend you want to ask to shut up once in a while. Do that for a bit and then you can worry about longer term aspirations and existential questions about where you're meant to be in life.

The cosmic emptiness will always be there for you to contemplate. just like play a video game or something. read a book. work on your tan. i spent two years after grad school writing a really bad game of thrones rip off about my chronic illness and blasting e cigarettes and watching the carmilla web series and little else. just like calm the f down

[typingcorgi]

can't quit you

rating: e (minors, please shoo. you will be blocked) word count: 4.1k+ pairing: joel miller x f!reader warnings: mention of age difference, tipsy sex, mutual pining, emotionally unavailable but totally fuckable joel, oral sex (f receiving), p in v, creampie, praise kink makes brain go brrr, taylor swift references if you squint, porn with plot, moody-ish joel, no use of y/n summary: joel miller isn't able to tell you what you mean to him, but he can show you. author's notes: this is probably the fic I'm most proud of (not that I've written very many) and if you read, i would absolutely love feedback, reblogs, or comments. tell me what you like! tell me what you hated (kindly pls lol). i am open to feedback and love praise can't you tell so enjoy reading your thoughts. now enjoy getting dicked down (respectfully) and thank you to @foli-vora for letting me pick your brain on some of the plot devices; truly appreciate it (:

Right now, you have two things on your mind: cheap whiskey and Joel Miller.

The former comes from the promise of your smuggler who’d agreed to deliver an unopened bottle of Rittenhouse in exchange for three or four cigarettes you’d hand-rolled that morning. Quality tobacco is a thing of the past, so you’re fine with offering up one lackluster product in exchange for another slightly less lackluster product. There’s a good chance the bottle will be half-empty by the time your visitor makes it to your meeting spot. No one is ever as good as their word anymore, and their word means virtually nothing.

You hold Joel Miller to his promises, though. He said he’d run out to barter for his own offering of supplies—he’s low on ammo for his shotgun, and he needs to find a good number of batteries for the two-way radios he’d stolen off a sleeper last night. He figures it might be a good insurance plan, a good backup just in case either of you split up in this next leg of the trip to Jackson. And while you don’t like the idea of him traveling alone—despite knowing he can very much take care of himself—you don’t fight him on it. He’s not wrong, and more significantly, if you try and argue with him, you’re probably going to be disappointed. 

You used to bicker more when you thought he hated you; when you were the annoying neighbor and not the escort out of Boston and downstate. You fought like cats and dogs when you lived next door to him in those mangy apartments, never liking the way you looked at each other—like both of you knew the other had an ulterior motive to force yourself out of the QZ, and you picked up on it, tapped into this common secret you hadn’t planned on sharing with anyone else. And while the proverbial walls with which Joel shields himself are crumbling at a painfully sluggish pace, it’s something. You’ll take something over nothing.

You’re hiding out in the basement of an abandoned convenience store on what was probably a main street in this New York suburb. There isn’t much by way of furniture; just a couple of rust-ridden folding chairs, a worn green couch, empty, dusty shelves, and a sink that probably hasn’t run clean water in fifteen years. Small privacy windows along the top of the walls offer little by way of natural light, and the angle of its golden rays tells you that it’s time to go. Your connect is waiting for you on the street’s southern corner. Or at least, that’s where you planned to meet right before sundown.

Joel’s left you with his smaller, quicker shot, a semi-automatic that he usually entrusts you with while you’re apart. He doesn’t say it, but you can sort of tell that he doesn’t like leaving you. And it’s probably not personal because yes, while Joel Miller is slowly coming out of the shell he’s lived in for the last twenty years, it’s not as though he’s developed some sort of overt attachment to you. In a life like this, attachment is almost as dangerous as the Infected. There’s no room for him—or for you—to seek anything beyond a sort of temporary comfort with one another.

Get him to Jackson. That’s it. And then you’re on your own again on your route back home.

You switch the safety on the rifle, then keep it tucked in the front pocket of your jeans while you head up the dilapidated stairs and push open the cellar doors. The sunset meets you right in your eyes and you squint, and then the same thought you have at almost every beautiful encounter sweeps through your mind. Am I seeing another sunset tomorrow?

With any measure of hope, yes.

You close the cellar doors behind you, careful to avoid stepping on any overgrown grass along the cracked sidewalk toward the street corner. You’ve been unusually fortunate to not run into any runners or clickers today, but that streak would come to a dreadful end if you’d stepped on any patch of cordyceps fungus hidden along the green. They’d come charging at you in an instant, and if their overbearing strength didn’t kill you first, the brain parasite would. Eventually.

A quick death sounds better. You can’t fathom slowly losing your mind as many have. You can’t fathom losing the memory of Joel.

Fuck. You’ve really got it bad for him, you’re fucking thinking about him when you should be on guard, when you should be looking out for—

“Girl,” a voice calls out from behind you. You don’t know this smuggler that well; it’s not as though he has a voice you’d recognize. Your shoulders jump and you try to downplay it as you turn around, rifle now held in your dominant hand.

“Yeah,” you say, unimpressed with his greeting. You notice the edges of a paper bag crumpled in his strong grip, and as you eye him, you take out a tin-wrapped package of cigarettes, holding them out for him to take. He accepts your barter and unwraps the foil, inspecting each product to ensure you’re not ripping him off.

“Yeah,” he echoes, then hands you the paper bag. It’s heavy, containing the glass bottle that he’d promised, but right away, you can tell its contents aren’t completely full. You don’t mention it. Some things aren’t worth the energy. And you’re fairly confident you’d start feeling it after a swig or two, considering your last drink feels like ages ago.

When you return to the cellar, you’re alone again. Concern and disappointment flood your veins as you realize Joel hasn’t returned. Fuck, now would have been a good time for those fucking walkie-talkies. Hey, Joel, you dead? No? Great, get back here in one piece.

You dig around your pack for something to eat, eventually settling on something that you think was a protein bar at one point in time, but now just tastes of slightly sweet dust. It’s unappetizing. It’s all this end-of-world can offer you, and while getting good and drunk on an empty stomach sounds like it would be a fan-fucking-tastic idea, you can’t afford to slow down tomorrow. You can’t afford the hangover.

It feels like hours have passed within the span of minutes, and you take a swig of Rittenhouse before you hear a clang at the cellar door. FEDRA wouldn’t wait for you to open up—they’d just bust the door open without hesitation. Joel. Maybe. It could be him, or it could be your smuggler coming back to collect, realizing now your flimsy cigarettes weren’t worth the trade.

Your shotgun is again in hand—someone told you long ago that alcohol and firearms aren’t a wise mix, but that was probably before they realized the world was eventually going to end—and after carefully walking up the wooden stairs, you push open the door, gun ready to fire.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel mutters, lowering your aim away from the space between his tired eyes. “You really are ready for anythin’, aren’t you, honey?”

He says it almost sarcastically, like he doesn’t mean it. Like he’s teasing you in an aloof sort of way that only makes total sense for the Joel Miller. And you know he doesn’t intend for your stomach to twist like it does when he says it—honey, fuck, you could just melt onto the cold cement floor—but it does.

“In times like these, you have to be,” you offer, leading you both down the stairs.

You sink into the couch, finally able to exhale that long-awaited sigh of relief as it hits you: Joel is back, and from what you can tell, he’s unharmed. He’s alive. You don’t give yourself much time to relish in the silent celebration of it, though. 

“How was it out there?” You ask. “Run into anything? Anyone?”

“Couple’a stalkers,” he replies, shrugging. “Shot ‘em before they could get close. Got the batteries for the radio, along with some other crap.”

Your smile is small but genuine. “That’s good. Anytime you don’t end up maimed or dead is a win in my book.”

He almost chuckles, and it makes your heart squeeze. “Yeah.”

—

The “other crap” Joel has brought back to you includes a used, but functional woolen blanket and a stash of beef jerky that’s likely way past its expiration date. “I don’t need you passin’ out from hunger,” he says as he hands one of the pieces to you. Your fingers brush and it feels fucking electric, but likely only to you, since you know Joel has shut himself off to any sort of emotional electricity long ago.

He sits next to you on the couch, and honestly, takes up a considerable amount of space. His legs are splayed open, his broad back resting on the cushion behind him, and the full extent of his intimidating size begins to sink into you. It’s not like you ever thought Joel Miller was small, but you’ve been with him long enough that sometimes you forget how he might appear to others: menacing. Threatening.

You’re passing off the whiskey bottle between you, taking swigs every couple of minutes to fill the silence that’s fallen between you. Your conversation started benign enough (if benign could be used to describe the next leg of your runaway route, now that FEDRA knows two of its civilians have escaped the Boston QZ), but then it’d taken a more personal turn. Suddenly you know a sliver more of Joel Miller’s past; you know he’d been separated from his brother since Outbreak Day. You learn he had a daughter.

“I’m sorry,” you say lamely. It doesn’t feel strong enough. I’m sorry is what you might have said had you accidentally closed the cellar door on Joel’s pinky finger. He doesn’t say anything back for a while. He just takes another swig of whiskey as he leans back into the couch, as though it fully catches the weight of his grief.

“Was a long time ago,” he says finally. “She would’a been close to your age by now. Maybe a little younger.”

You nod and immediately feel a little guilty. You’d somehow survived, against all odds, against losing your family—if not to the outbreak itself, to the violence it’d caused. Your family was collateral damage in a devastating blow. It could have been you instead of her—Joel would still have his daughter, and you’d be with your family in a place hopefully much better than this hell on earth.

“Still,” you try, still not feeling as though your words convey your true meaning. “I’m so sorry. Thank you for trusting me with that.”

Joel’s eyes flicker towards yours as if he’s only now realizing that’s what’s happening here: he’s trusting you. And whether it’s an effect of the whiskey, it’s something. Neither of you is full-on drunk, just loose enough to take the edge off, to put aside some of the overwhelming weight that comes with surviving the literal plague. It’s just enough to let some of the walls built between you begin to chip away, bit by bit.

You don’t leave him hanging out to dry, though. You can’t. Joel just exposed one of his deepest wounds, so the least you can do is mirror the gesture.

You tell him everything. You tell him about your life in New York, your escape out of before you’d barely begun to drive. You tell him about your family and the hit it took to your life to lose theirs. You tell him about your connection to the Fireflies (although you’re pretty sure he’d already picked up on that, considering your frequent interactions with Marlene and Kim). You tell him you’d needed a light to cling to in the everlasting darkness until you’d realized even the light was no good, even then, you’d come to accept the only risk worth taking was one that ensured your security and yours alone.

And now, as it happens, his, too.

He doesn’t say anything afterward. He doesn’t come out with a line like thank you for trusting me with that or anything gooey or empathetic. How you have the emotional space for such reactions is beyond even your understanding, so you understand why a complete stoic like Joel Miller just…sits there. Stoic, nodding his head a bit in an effort to communicate he hears you. He doesn’t say he’s sorry. Everyone is expected to live like this.

“You know,” you continue, the whiskey warming the blood swimming in your veins. “When you didn’t come back as quickly as I thought you would, I got worried.”

Joel exhales through his nose. “Yeah,” he replies. “What else is new.”

You turn your body to face him, legs crossed over one another as you adjust your seat. Your eyes widen with meaning. You’re like a kid with a secret to spill, a story to tell, and you’ll be damned if Joel Miller doesn’t hear it.

“I mean it,” you push. “I’d been thinking about you all damn day. You just come and go as you please, or at least, you think you do. You’ve only just started telling me where you plan on going, or how long you think it’ll take. And I stick by you despite it all. You know why?”

“Yeah, and why’s that?” Joel presses, but the sarcasm dripping from his voice signals that he doesn’t actually want to know. Wanting to know what you mean—and then actually knowing—translates to pain. And this sort of added pain, the one that comes from wanting too much, is just not something either of you can manage at a time like this.

Your pointer finger gestures between the two of you, and with a bolt of whiskey courage, you finally say what’s been plaguing your mind for months. “It’s you and me,” you admit. “That’s my whole world. I got nothing else worth saving or fighting for anymore. So when you leave, half of my world walks out on me. Half of my fucking reason for being here is just—”

He cuts you off, and you don’t fucking believe what’s happening. His kiss is harsh, biting, bordering on punishment for you to shut the fuck up and he knows yelling at you won’t work (when has it ever?) so he kisses you. He lunges for you, his broad palm and dirt-coated fingers covering your entire cheek, the pads of his fingers pressing slightly into the flesh of your face.

Stop.

He pulls back, and both of you are met with the heavy breathing of the other. Your eyes open, slow and dreamy. You wish you had something more articulate to say.

“What the fuck?”

He says nothing.

“No, really, Joel. What the fuck was that?”

He pulls back, observing you. The weight of his gaze is nearly paralyzing.

“Don’t make me say it,” he concedes. You lean back against the arm of the couch, waiting for something more satisfying.

“Had too much to drink,” he tells you, but you know for a damn fact that you’re the one that put most of that liquor away. You’d had a head start, after all, waiting for him to get back to you.

“Not buying it,” you argue, shaking your head. “Just admit to me that you feel something between us, too?” And there’s your index finger again, flicking between your two bodies, tracing a line over the invisible string that binds you to the other. “Admit to me that this isn’t just about getting to Jackson. That you need someone here with you, because you can’t carry the damn weight of the entire world on your shoulders anymore.”

He can’t tell you that. It’s as though the words simply don’t exist in the Joel Miller lexicon. Your gaze drops, casting downward at his thigh, though you’re not exactly looking at anything.

Finally, he says your name. It’s low and pleading. Stop.

He’s leaning into you again, and this time, you meet him halfway. It’s agonizing, the painfully short distance between your mouths before he kisses you again. He’s slow and hesitant this time, almost seeking permission for a kiss as biting as your first. Your tongue sweeps along the seam of his lips, and when he parts them, you kiss him like the world is ending.

You can’t fucking believe what’s happening. It’s as though you’ve manifested this moment within your dreams. On the nights you’ve fallen asleep alone, you’ve touched yourself thinking of this. You’ve played your own body like a harp, imagining every stroke and rub of your fingers belonged to him instead. Joel is kissing you, and you’re kissing him back. Joel’s hands are running up through your hair, and your hands are on his chest, bracing yourself for him to pull back when he inevitably realizes this is a bad fucking idea.

It doesn’t come. He pushes you down, a gentle press of his hand to guide your back along the couch. His lips move from yours toward your neck, his kiss a brand, declaring you as his for as long as he’ll have you.

For as long as you survive.

Your bodies dance between wanting to savor the moment and needing to feel the heat of the other. Joel’s fingers toy with the zipper of your jeans, eventually pulling them down your legs and discarding them toward the cement floor so he can better focus his energy on you. On pleasing you, of course, but maybe to also give into the desire he’s been repressing for so long.

“Joel,” you whisper. “Are you su—“

“Don’t,” he interrupts, and then his mouth is on your cunt.

It’s sudden and harsh, but fuck, your body needs this. Nothing about this man is subtle, and now you learn his sex isn’t either. His tongue traces patterns against your clit, eventually probing deeper to taste you from the inside. Maybe if you’d been a little more firm in your inhibitions, you’d tell him this was a bad idea. Maybe he wouldn’t be fucking you with his goddamn perfect mouth like this. But he is, and you’re here, beneath the twitching overhead light in this decayed basement until it flickers once, twice, and goes out.

You learn Joel is braver in the dark.

Your hands grip his hair while he eats you out. His fingers press so deeply against the flesh of your hips that you know it’ll bruise, but it’ll be a pleasant ache to remember a night like this. It’ll be proof that even for a moment, Joel Miller felt something for you, and he could show you even if he couldn’t tell you.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he mutters, pulling back to catch his breath. You crane your neck to glimpse at him. His lips and beard glimmer with evidence of your arousal, and he sighs into the flesh of your thigh. “Too—too old for this.”

“Fuck that.” You actually laugh at his unexpected comment. “Keep going.”

For a rare moment in your relationship, Joel listens to you. His head dips back between your legs, mouth returning to deliver your pleasure. He’s slower this time, but just as deliberate. His hands hold your legs apart to give his tongue the perfect space against your clit, and when you feel your body begin to crest in relief, you give a sharp inhale through your mouth.

“Joel, I’m—I’m going to—“

He doesn’t need to hear anymore. He drinks you in while you climax, your limbs tensing while stars explode behind your closed eyes.

You kiss him when you push yourself up, needing to taste your own lingering flavor—needing confirmation that all of this is real. Joel fucking Miller just ate you out in this dingy little basement, and you can’t be sure, but you think it’s because he might actually have developed some sort of feeling for you. Something beyond the need to run or hide or defend. And you reciprocate it, eagerly.

How inconvenient for you both.

He’s breathing heavily against your mouth, and you smile in the earnest afterglow.

“You’re really good at that,” you praise into your ear, and he offers something between a growl and a moan in response.

His jeans are dirty and stiff, but you’re just as impatient to pull them off his thick legs and experience him as he’s delighted in you—the weight of his body, the feel of his cock. You hold his length in your hands and immediately notice he’s fucking huge. You practically gasp at the realization, thankful that the dark room hides your growing blush.

You’re laying on your back, and Joel’s fingers slide against your entrance, priming you for his next move. He speaks again, and while you’d normally have a little internal celebration at any ounce of vulnerability he’d be willing to share with you, this time you immediately cut him off.

“You sure abou—“

“Never more about anything else,” you confess.

It’s all too damn much, the amount of immense sensation that comes from Joel teasing briefly with the head of his cock. He pushes into you, and it’s almost as if you can see the way his eyes roll back into his head. Your own body has to adjust to his size, and you bite your lower lip as you brace yourself through the sweet pain of his length filling you with all he has.

He groans against the warmth of your neck, eventually building up his slow thrusts to a rhythmic pace that causes your blood to dance.

“G—god damn it,” you choke out, your ankles hooked around each other along his spine.

In the darkness, you can make out the slight reflection of his tired eyes. His breathing turns ragged quickly and he hisses once or twice—whether out of pleasure or plain you can’t determine (especially because you’re certain you heard him grumble something about his damn knees while he slid out and pushed forward, but honestly, you’re so fucking spent that it’s hard to be sure).

“Feels good?” You ask, clenching your walls as he thrusts home. 

He groans. “Uh-huh.”

He pulls you to sit up on his lap, and it’s only then he realizes you’re both still too damn clothed. He hurries to pull your white t-shirt overhead, then pushes your bra straps off your shoulders before managing to unhook the thing with both hands. Hs teeth nip and lips suck at your nipple while he fucks you, while you softly bounce on his damn cock, and shit, you want this night to last for fucking ever. 

You’re fucking ecstatic. Your heart sings with the knowledge that you’ve managed to bring Joel pleasure, if only for tonight. Your body thrums like a guitar string plucked by his experienced fingers, and you pant against his lips, sweat forming along the hairline at your temples.

“I’m c—close,” you warn him. “I’m going to—”

“M—me too,” he stammers. “Let me feel you, honey. Just l–let go.”

And you do, you really fucking do. You feel his heat begin to spill inside you and it only intensifies the blinding orgasm Joel coaxes out of you. It reverberates within you, spanning from your fingertips down toward your toes, turning your spine to liquid.

He fucks into you slowly while you both come down, humming into your ear during the aftershocks.

“That’s it, darlin’. Did so fuckin’ good.”

The praise alone is nearly enough to send you over another edge. You suddenly want to bury your head into the crook of Joel’s neck, hiding any evidence of vulnerable relief along your expression. But Joel doesn’t let you. Instead, he holds your chin between his thumb and the crook of his index finger, and kisses you through it.

Joel falls asleep on the couch in his jeans and an old t-shirt. He lets you wear his flannel (though he tries telling you it’s dirty and bloodstained, but mostly everything you own is, so you don’t care).

He falls asleep with you resting behind him, trusting you to hold him while you keep each other safe. He kisses the inside of your wrist, lips lingering at your pulse point.

When you wake in the morning, he’s already gone. And your heart would completely sink had you not realized one of the two-way radios standing upright on the shelf across from you, low static playing through its speaker. There’s a little red light next to its antenna.

You feel as though you can breathe again.

Padding across the basement floor, you grab the radio with both hands, press the call button, and speak into the receiver.

“Joel?”

[octuscle]

Changed taste

Callum had left after the second act. The production at the alternative opera had been a cheek. The singers had been a disaster. And the announcement of the underground strike had been a good excuse not to have to listen to this debacle to the end. Unfortunately, the underground drivers had shown no consideration for Callum. The strike had already begun. The underground shafts were deserted. So it was a taxi. This contradicted Callum's attitude to sustainability. He always excused his flat in Kensignton by saying that it was so centrally located that he didn't need a car. Only a few of his friends knew that there was an old Jaguar E-Type and a brand new Porsche 911 in the underground car park. Callum's family had made a fortune from property speculation over 100 years ago. He owned the exclusive block of flats in which he lived. This and a few more.

When he came up from the underground, it had started to rain. And he had left his umbrella in the cloakroom at the opera. Underground strike and rain. Not a good combination for getting a taxi. In the shelter of the entrance to the underground, Callum searched on his mobile phone. A bus station was only 200 metres away. And it wasn't raining that hard. So he set off. And after a few metres, the heavens opened their floodgates. A downpour of torrential proportions drenched Callum in a matter of seconds. His dinner jacket was ruined. And his mobile phone only flashed once more before it died in the pouring rain.

The rain intensified. The few passers-by who hadn't yet found shelter quickly ran through the puddles to find somewhere to hide. Callum's best chance was a launderette where the owner or employee was about to lower the blinds. Callum asked if he could seek shelter until the rain had stopped. The young man looked at Callum and waved him in. He introduced himself as Kieron and said that he had to wash and dry a washing machine for himself while he cleaned the launderette. Callum would be happy to stay here for that long. Callum thanked him and asked if he could return the favour somehow. Kieron shook his head and showed Callum where he could find hangers to hang up his wet clothes. And pointed to a basket of washing. A customer had left it here. Callum could take some of it if he wanted to.

The clothes were obviously still unwashed. They smelled of sweat and cold cigarette smoke. There were dried precum stains in the pants. Callum was disgusted. But also soaking wet. And somehow he was… Turned on? Him? By those disgusting clothes. Kieron had switched on some music. Very loud. Gangster rap and hip hop. Definitely not Callum's style. But that didn't matter. He took the laundry basket and asked where he could change. Kieron pointed to the door with the "Private" sign. There were towels there too. Callum thanked him.

After pulling the door shut behind him, Callum took off his shoes, jacket, trousers and shirt and hung everything on hangers. A little hesitantly, he also removed his stockings, pants and vest. He was able to wring everything out, everything was so wet. He took a pair of boxer shorts out of the laundry basket. Yellowed white cotton. Precum and piss stains. Callum smelled it carefully. And then he pressed them to his nose and inhaled deeply. So good! He had no idea why, but it smelled so good! Slimy drops formed on his own cock. The pants were a size 32, not his size. But they fit like a glove. His bulge was frighteningly large. And the wet patch was growing fast. Callum rummaged through the dirty laundry. The polyester tracksuit bottoms did it to him. He pulled them on, just high enough so that the waistband of his pants could still be seen. Now a pair of dirty white socks… Call took his trainers. Yes, they were still a little wet… But they would be fine. The T-shirt that went best with the trousers stank of sweat. Sure, Call had worn it for several days in a row. For sport, in the pub in the evening. During the day, he wore the Hiviz street-cleaning gear. He took his necklace, which he was so proud of, out of his T-shirt. Then he took his tracksuit jacket off the hanger, put on his gloves, put on his cap and posed in front of the mirror. If he played with his balls a little longer, he would cum here and now. Then Kieron would be fucking pissed. After all, making Call cum was his job.

"I hope the damn rain stops soon!" That was the caption under his latest post. Kieron shouted about how much longer he needed. Call opened the door and shouted back that it was up to Kieron when he could finally cum. A few seconds later, Kieron was standing in the doorway, grinning. He put the mop to one side. And got down on his knees.

Inspiration by @barty123

[themaclean]

hi i just came from ao3 and firstly, i have read ur vaultghoul fic probably 20 times already it’s just so good with spot on characterization and amazing writing, thank u so much 🙏

secondly, i was reading the comments on it and came across one abt wanting to see a pre-war au where cooper and lucy start an affair and immediately my ears perked up like 👀 all i could imagine is her being cast as his love interest, her being a big fan of his already, and them having a wedding scene where they fuck in her wedding dress after they call cut

n e way so sorry for rambling haha but unfortunately ive got the brainrot now

I MEAN HYPOTHETICALLY -- I'm mobile (and somehow wrote 2k words still wheeze) so I'll finish this when I'm on my PC but I played around with the idea a bit thanks to this ask. :)

...

Summary; Cooper Howard x Lucy MacLean, 2077 AU where Lucy and Cooper star in a movie together.

...

There's a whole host of ways that Vault-Tec could have cracked down on Cooper. Given the infringement of their security protocols and the divorce and the way they choked him out of all the good roles...

It wasn't such a far stretch that he'd have to take place in the biggest circle jerk of a film production where his super-fan shoved his daughter into a starring role using Cooper's connections.

Because, so far as the public knew, he was still a supporter of Vault-Tec and he'd do just about anything to sell that delusion.

Cooper crushed the heel of his palms against his eyes, a limp cigarette hung between his teeth.

The girl was a nightmare.

Stiff, picky, absent-minded. No emotion, either, no semblance of self-awareness. It was like some Disney Princess popped out of the cartoons in the worst way, quick to parrot the lines she was meant to say with perfect diction but nothing more than that.

And it was somehow his fucking job to coach the girl -- Lucy -- into a leading lady. The idea was that she was the daughter of the Overseer, played by her actual father, and Cooper was some vault dweller from another section.

The whole thing was convoluted. He did cowboy flicks and the sort that had a showdown at the end. This sci-fi garbage went right over his head, this future projection of the what-if. He didn't have time for the what-if.

He had a daughter he needed to vy for custody of and an expensive divorce on the horizon. And Barb had the best lawyers money could buy and he'd never thought they'd end up like this. There was no pre-nup and nothing to protect him.

And he didn't have a goddamn lighter.

"You shouldn't smoke."

Cooper near growled around the butt of his cigarette, only just keeping himself civil at the last moment. He turned towards Lucy, unable to mistake her for anyone else. There was something about her vacant, pretty face that irked him, those giant goddamn eyes.

"It's bad for you. I read an article about it."

"Maybe you'd be better off reading your lines again," Cooper said with a wave of his hand. He dug in his jacket pocket, the one he'd worn to set.

Bingo.

Lucy crossed her arms and leaned against the vault railing. It was strange to do the filming down, a hundred feet or so beneath the surface, but it made for impressive sets. They were around the corner from the rest of the camera crew and cast.

And they were alone for the first time since shooting. Most times, Cooper had a few stage hands or interns at his heel. And he didn't see Lucy around much, except for scenes. Didn't chase her down, didn't much think of her.

Except now he's aware she's still in the wedding dress she'd been in earlier. Stage blood soaked the stomach of it, thick streams of blood from where she'd been stabbed. But he'd saved her and they'd shared a chaste kiss for the camera.

And then he hadn't seen her.

"I thought you'd be a better kisser."

Cooper didn't withhold the glare, couldn't bring himself to give a fuck. "Pardon?"

"Just -- the kiss. Didn't really..." Lucy narrowed her eyes at him. "I grew up watching your movies. My dad is a big fan. I always figured you'd be a good kisser, but you aren't."

"You ain't much yourself, either," Cooper said with a raised brow. "Like a fish, sweetheart. Cold."

"I'm not a fish," she snapped back. "That's very mean. I -- I know I was mean first but I just thought you could do better."

Cooper couldn't help but laugh to himself at this miserable brat who'd sought him out to complain about an on-screen kiss. He took a long drag, his gaze slanted across the backs of his knuckles.

"You're here 'cause your daddy yanked some strings," Cooper shrugged a shoulder. "My only obligation is to make a movie for the studio. I'm not your damn boyfriend-for-hire, trying to get you off for the cameras."

Cooper was a professional and on his best behaviour -- usually. But the long days of filming for a corporation rooted in the exploitation of the country he'd fought for... That patience wore thinner with each moment he was alone with this brat.

"I'm here as an actress -- "

"You can act?" Cooper asked, mock surprise as he pressed a hand to his chest.

Lucy had the gall to look offended.

Cooper took another drag, his hip notched against the railing. "It's a movie, darling. I've been doing this shit for years. They ain't gonna let people tongue each other to high hell."

"That..."

"That is exactly how it works," Cooper said as he ashed his cigarette onto the grate beneath his feet. "It's not about you, it's about the shot."

Lucy looked at him like he'd slapped her. "I know it's about the shot."

"Could've fooled me." Cooper huffed out a breath. He'd kissed plenty of women for his films and he was a consummate professional. If the audience bought into it, that was all he needed. He didn't give a damn if his co-star got butterflies over it.

Especially not the daughter of some jackass at Vault-Tec, for a project that was nothing more than an empty propaganda piece. But he didn't have much choice.

"I'm here because it's important to my father. Vault-Tec wanted to keep as many roles as they could within the company -- "

"Nepotism."

"To promote the culture they want within the movie, which is carefully curated -- "

"Cultish."

"To their... Could you stop doing that?"

Cooper crossed his arms, his cigarette nearly finished. The vault had good enough ventilation that the smoke disappeared but the smell lingered. He pushed away from the railing, his expensive smile slack across his lips.

"I had my fill of the Vault-Tec propaganda, sweetheart. Don't make a difference if it's from a pamphlet or a pretty girl, I'm just doing what I'm being paid to."

"Wasn't it your wife -- ex-wife -- who brought you in originally?"

Cooper's neck twitched as he looked down at Lucy, as she smart-mouthed her way right into some shit she didn't know anything about. He tipped his head to the side, the annoying collar of the vault suit biting into his jawline.

"So you believed what Vault-Tec thought originally." Lucy toyed with the stain on her white dress, her fingers tugged at the frayed edge. "What changed?"

"Nothing," Cooper said, his voice flat.

Lucy met his eye, her head tilted to contrast the angle of his head. She settled a hand on the railing, uncertainty replaced her uppity edge from before. "I'm not trying to spy on you or get information. You just -- had your life together, and then you're getting divorced."

"It happens," Cooper said, aware now that she was between him and the crew. The vault split into spidery webs in all directions, though. He could leave her if he wanted. But then he'd end up who knows where, deep in the belly of this steel nest.

But they were alone, and she'd inched closer to him.

Cooper saw the leading ladies he worked with as colleagues. Sometimes they'd have to kiss or imitate gentle moments or intimacy -- but for the most part, he could compartmentalise it. But Lucy didn't act. She couldn't. She was an atrocious leading lady and she read everything as if she were saying it herself.

Like a porn actress, saying shit to get through to the action, rushing through the writing like it didn't matter.

It wasn't her fault. He had the sneaking suspicious she had no interest in acting or in this movie; that she was only doing it because her father asked her to do it. Maybe even so she could have an excuse to meet him, he realized dimly as she looked up at him with wide hazel eyes.

That separation -- of leading lady and of a romantic partner -- muddled with her. Because he didn't even like her. He didn't want to get to know her. He hated her father and he wanted nothing to do with this company.

And she was closer to him than not, and they'd kissed a handful of times, and she'd said he sucked at it.

Cooper rolled his jaw as Lucy didn't have the guts to do more than she had. Her moony eyes fixed up at him like a challenge. And then he felt his resolve snap because it wasn't like he had much to lose. This wasn't a real acting gig and she wasn't a real leading lady.

His hand snapped out, fingers and thumb dug into her cheek. He brought her close, to see what she'd do. The answer was -- not much. She didn't shout or push him away, their mouths inches apart as he hovered close to her, examining her beneath his lashes.

"Bad kisser -- that what you said?"

Lucy swallowed hard enough to nudge his hand. "Well, you were. I'm not going to lie to you to spare your ego."

Cooper made a soft sound from the back of his throat as he kissed her. The distant crack and shift of the crew as they moved their cameras from one vault room to another should be a deterent but Cooper doesn't care.

He's single, isn't he. Has been for a few months. He'd not acted on it, hadn't felt the urge to, but he's as trapped as ever in the shadow of what Barb had done to him. It's only fair he make use of that shadow to indulge, even if it's just to prove a point to this girl Lucy.

There's some inherent amusement to how she melted into the kiss. She wanted it far more than she'd let on, that soft mewing, moaning neediness as he stroked her long brown hair out of her face. He threaded his fingers softly through her hair, hand on either side of her face, fingers combing through her hair.

Her back was arched over the railing as he gave her the kiss she'd probably expected earlier, the one he wasn't about to throw out on camera. There's standards for cinema and he didn't want to waste film or time.

But then her fingers were on the zipper of the stupid fucking vault suit. He didn't stop her, even as she yanked it down and slipped her hand along his stomach.

If anything, he pushed harder against her. The fluffy white skirt of her wedding dress made it hard to get much for himself. But with a yank of her knee and the shift of her weight, he had her seated on the railing. Her shoulder caught one of the metal frames, to keep her pinned in place.

If this were any other job or any other actress, he'd give a fuck.

But it's Vault-Tec, through and through.

[rodspurethoughts]

FDA Denies Marketing of Two Vuse Menthol E-Cigarette Products Following Determination They Do Not Meet Public Health Standard

Company Must Stop Marketing Unauthorized Products or Risk Enforcement Today, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration issued marketing denial orders (MDOs) for two menthol e-cigarette products currently marketed by R.J. Reynolds Vapor Company. The currently marketed products include the Vuse Vibe Tank Menthol 3.0% and the Vuse Ciro Cartridge Menthol 1.5%. The company must not market or distribute…

[vapedazzle1]

[anqelically-archived]

goodbye, my darling | osamu dazai x fem!reader

word count: 2.8k

content: beast!au spoilers, angst, you take oda’s place (but aren’t exactly like him)

navigation | bsd masterlist

you were never too keen on the idea of meeting someone whose face you’d never seen. as a cautious woman, who also worked as a detective for a living, you’d normally deny a meeting with someone unfamiliar. however, to deny a gathering in your current situation could cost the life of a boy you took in as a subordinate.

the lives of those younger than you were of the utmost importance.

ryunosuke akutagawa was your subordinate, who, blindly, stormed into the headquarters of the most dangerous organization in yokohama. in order to save his little sister, akutagawa broke into the port mafia’s building by himself to get her back.

since he was a member of the agency, it was part of your mission to rescue him. as you walked towards a lone bar in ginza, you never forgot that. a cigarette burned away in your dominant hand as you walked towards bar lupin.

your aim was to aid akutagawa in what would happen after his escape from the port mafia. the reason you were meeting with the person in charge of monetary security for the mafia was to gain information. with a threat dangerous to the port mafia, a bargain can be made. the akutagawas can be safe from the port mafia, and the port mafia can be safe from the government.

the cigarette in your hand was put out when you rubbed it against the brick wall. you threw the unfinished product into the trashcan nearby before you took quiet steps down the stairs toward the bar. you were sure it was the location based on the sign outside.

the moment you opened the door, the mellow, low tune of jazz reached your ears. your (e/c) eyes scanned the almost empty bar in front of you. at the actual bar itself sat one lone man. from his stature, he was definitely not the old man you were expecting.

his hair, dark as coffee beans, covered his face before he turned around. a smile adorned the unfamiliar man’s face as he looked at you with a shine in his rich, brown eye. the other one seemed to be wrapped in bandages, just like the ends of his arms. he was handsome if you had to say. but for someone dressed like a port mafia hitman, he greeted you like you knew each other well.

“(n/n), it’s been a while,” he spoke, voice soft. “were you smoking again? i can smell the stench from a mile away, you know.”

“i suppose it’s not unusual for you to smell it,” you responded. “but you say it’s been a while... have we met before?”

the man closed his eye, an almost silent sigh escaping his mouth. once you could see his uncovered eye again, the shine that was once there seemed to dull. it was still there, but harder for you to see in the dimly lit bar. he pushed down the sphere of ice in his drink.

“no, we haven’t met yet. this is the first time. the first time i’ve entered this bar, first time i drank here, first time we’ve met here, in this crazy world. a whole lotta firsts, wouldn’t you say, (n/n)?”

“yeah, it’s a lot.”

you found yourself sitting one stool away from the man. a bittersweet silence was draped between the two of you and for some reason, you felt the urge to change it as soon as possible. you wanted to fall into a light conversation you’d normally have with someone close to you. it was odd, really. you were here for a purpose, yet you sat by idly.

“hey, i’ve got a question.” if the man wasn’t going to speak first, you would. you asked, “if we’re going to sit here, what should i call you? i doubt you’d want me to call you mister bandages.”

“well, calling me yours would be just fine,” he playfully smirked at you. “darling wouldn’t be bad either.”

“so it’s going to be like that?”

“of course it is. i have a nickname for you, and you have one for me. it’s only fair, isn’t it? but, i have a question for you. if we’re going to be here, what would you like to drink? pick your poison, belladonna.”

you let your chin rest on your hand, “well, i usually only drink with my coworkers and when i’m tired. i always have a lime margarita, if you can make that for me, darling.”

he smiled as he went behind the bar, “hm, i suppose i can make it. but since you’re here with me for the first time, how about we drink something else for the first time too? i can make a mean french martini, surprisingly. i’ve watched it get made plenty of times.”

“if you insist, go ahead. if it tastes bad, don’t be surprised when i give you 0 stars.”

“ouch, how low.”

dazai, to your surprise, began to create the drink as if he knew the bar like the back of his hand. he grabbed the right drinks from their respective places without even looking at the labels to create the cocktail. it was as if the bar was his.

while he was at it, you asked him something that had been bothering you from the moment he first talked. “you called me (n/n) when i entered the bar, so it’s safe to say that it refers to me. why call me that?”

“why?” he hummed. “i should ask you that. do you not like it?”

“it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. it’s just… no one has ever called me that before. everyone just calls me (y/n), but not you, clearly.”

he lowered his gaze and the corners of his lips turned up. that smile of his, you could read it clear as day. you were able to tell that this man wasn’t smiling from what you've said, not even genuinely smiling. he smiled for the sake of himself. you didn’t know what he was thinking or feeling, but you were sure it had to do with yourself. there was no way it didn’t.

“and no one’s ever called me their darling until you have, (n/n). it’s another first for the both of us, and we did it together. but hey, i have some stories i’ve been living to tell you. can i?”

after giving him the go-ahead, he excitedly talked about dealing with a bomb and giving his underlings firm tofu. the way he told his stories was like a little child coming home from the first day of school and telling their parents about their new friends.

once he was done, he slid the drink right in front of you and took a seat. however, it was not the seat he was originally at when you walked into the bar. getting closer than he was, he sat on the stool to your left. he held up his drink and, as if it were engraved into your body, you clinked your glass against his without a thought.

“well go ahead, taste it! let’s see if it really is worth 0 stars,” he urged you.

the way he stared into your eyes with anticipation, it was another strange thing you’ve noticed. he was genuinely happy. he was probably the strangest person you’ve ever met, and you’ve met some odd people. hell, you worked with them.

after having a thought, you picked up the glass. you pressed it against your lips and took a sip, aware of the eye on you. once you swallowed and set the drink down, you could see a satisfied smile in your peripheral vision.

“good, huh?” the brunette asked.

“it really is,” you confirmed. “it's not worth 0 stars.”

“see? what did i tell you, belladonna? a french martini suits you, though. you can always ask me to make you some if you want.”

“maybe. i’d ask if you can cook as well, but your firm tofu says otherwise.”

he chuckled, “yeah, i’m not much of a cook. i always had someone else cook for me. it was edible too. she was much better than i was at cooking. at a lot of things, actually.”

“she seems like a woman of talent.”

“that’s right, she was. i’ve missed her… i’ve missed her a lot these past years.”

“a mother?”

“nope, my mom had been long gone from my life. this woman… she was much more than that.”

you couldn’t find anything else to say, so you remained quiet. that was, until the bandage-wearing man brought up why you two even decided to meet in the first place. he asked for more details.

“a subordinate of mine is in danger, and i want to cut a deal. it’d be a miracle if he came out in one piece, let alone with the person he’s been searching for. if he makes it out, i have no doubt that the port mafia will hunt him down. i want to cut a deal that’ll benefit us both.”

after contemplating, he murmured, “akutagawa’s lucky to have come across a good teacher like you.”

“excuse me?”

“you don’t need to worry about akutagawa. after today, the mafia will never lay another finger on him. there’s no catch; he’ll be able to live the rest of his life in peace... besides, this is what i’ve had planned since the beginning... if he makes it out of the mafia headquarters alive, that is.”

what he told you had confirmed your suspicions. taking another sip of the martini, you looked him straight in the eye. you’ve let yourself come off as laid back, but now your expression was stern. he was caught off-guard.

“tell me, why did you lure him? why did you lure akutagawa into your headquarters, osamu dazai?”

it went silent, so much so that the music didn’t reach either of your ears.

“guess you’ve figured it out. i can’t fool you, can i?” he quipped. “you’ve always been quite intelligent.”

“you’re the one who gave out the hints. when talking about the tofu, you talked about underlings. you spoke like you had a lot of them. then, you talked about akutagawa without me even saying his name. not to mention how you’ve had plans from the beginning. only the port mafia’s boss would know, and be able to plan much. you’re the reason akutagawa is searching for his sister in the first place. this is over.”

“no, wait-!”

dazai reached out his arm, but he halted at the familiar click of a gun. his eye widened and he could only look at you with a horrified expression. he didn’t even have to look down to know your trusty pistol was in your hand.

“please put the gun away,” dazai begged, his face contorting to an expression of sorrow.

“i’m sorry, but i’m afraid i can’t do that. if i do, who knows what’ll happen to me? but then again, i’m already screwed if this is a trap. the port mafia’s boss is cunning, so i’m done acting like we’re close.”

“i didn’t want to become the boss! i… and i didn’t think of it as an act, not at all. it’s the truth, i swear.”

he looked at you so sincerely that you almost dropped the gun from your side. raw emotion was behind his words, or so you thought. maybe he could still be lying to you? maybe lying to himself. after all, there are liars so good that they’ve deceived themselves.

you looked down at your lap, “i guess that i’ve got to come up with another plan for saving akutagawa. well, if i can leave this establishment alive, that is.”

dazai insisted, “this isn’t a trap. i would never even dream of doing something like that to you, (n/n).”

“my name is (l/n) (y/n), not (n/n).”

your words were another shot to his chest.

“right, (y/n). you asked me why i lured akutagawa to the mafia headquarters, right? well, i did it to protect this world.”

you raised a brow, “this world?”

“this is but one of countless worlds. and in another world, the original world, you and i were… we were—“

“i love you,” he recalls the light touch of your fingers burning up his skin, “and there’s nothing in any universe that would change that.”

“—we were friends. you and i were friends in the original world. we drank at this bar and spent time together talking about the most insignificant things. it lasted for a while.”

dazai can also remember your last moments. you were laying in your own pool of blood when he finally caught up to you. when you spoke to him, you spoke in that same calm voice you’ve always had. and then, the smoke of the cigarette in your hand had dissipated into nothing, just like the light in your eyes.

“even if that were true, that doesn’t change what you did to akutagawa and his sister. you separated them, and now here we are,” you reminded dazai. “we may have been close in the original world, as you call it, but we are enemies now.”

“i love you—“

dazai’s eyes searched for something in the air that wasn’t there. his eye darted around, and his lips would slightly part and shut after a few seconds. his face twisted as he continued to remember everything.

“—and there’s nothing in any universe that would change that.”

“it was hard... it was really hard fighting mimic without you in the organization. i had no choice but to take over for mori and make enemies of everyone around me to expand the business,” dazai finally looked back at you. slowly, his hands reached for your cheeks. “everything i did was for this world’s- for you. i needed a world where you can sit here, happy with the people around you again.”

for a reason you couldn’t decipher, the hand that held your gun began to tremble. well, maybe it had been trembling for a long time and you were only now just recognizing it. dazai’s hands, cold and soft at the touch, held your face as if you were the most delicate thing in the world.

it was a touch of a lover.

coming down to that conclusion, everything made sense to you. dazai always looked at you like you were closest thing to him, a lifeline if you may. his nicknames, the flirting, talking about this unnamed important woman in his life. it was all because...

“we were in a relationship, weren’t we?”

dazai would’ve missed your words if the proximity between the two of you wasn’t this close. the way he froze in his spot had answered enough, and you could only sigh. slowly, you put your gun back into your jacket and rested your hands on dazai’s.

you gently pried his hands off of your face and held them between your own. you felt no specific feelings from the action, but you were sure dazai did based off of how his face softened.

“i’m sorry, but you have to leave your feelings out of this. i don’t know how you know what happened in the original world, and i won’t ask. i just have to tell you that i don’t feel what you do. like i said, you and i are enemies here. as long as you control the port mafia and i’m part of the armed detective agency, it’ll remain this way.”

“there’s nothing in any universe that would change that.”

“i see,” dazai took his hands back and rested them on his lap. “well, the reason i invited you here in the first place was to say goodbye.”

“you really don’t plan on ever seeing me again?”

“you said it, didn’t you? we’re enemies as long as we’re associated with the organizations we’re in. so after today, i won’t see you again. it’ll only hurt more if i do.”

“then this makes this a goodbye,” you watched as he stood up from his stool, hands in the pockets of his black overcoat.

“yes, it does. a life with someone you can say goodbye to is a good life, especially when it hurts so much to say it to them. am i wrong?”

“i guess you wouldn’t be... i haven’t said goodbye to anyone and have it pain me,” you replied, feeling bad for the port mafia’s boss.

“i hope you don’t for a long time. but one day, that time will come. you won’t be prepared for it, but all i can tell you is to let it in. feel everything, and see where it takes you.” dazai faintly smiled before he turned his back to you and began to walk away, “goodbye, (n/n).”

“goodbye, my darling.”

painfully, dazai grit his teeth and resisted the urge to look back. in goodbyes, that’s what they always do. they turn around and crash into the person they’re supposed to be leaving. he didn’t want to do that. this was his goodbye to you, even if it didn’t mean much. if he was going to keep this world functioning, he won’t leave it with you in any pain.

‘be happy, okay? even if it’s without me, be happy. as long as you’re alive, somewhere, i’ll be happy too’

it was a final thought he kept to himself.

note: this pained me sm to write, but i had to for the sake of my imagination </3

please reblog for more!

[laylajeffany]

Grant Us Peace, Forevermore |  Chaos Universe OneShot for @endofn1ght

Summary: Wednesday and her fellow Raven (OC/Emiliana) engage in witchcraft, looking for additional peace after the horrific events of the past year continue to weigh on them. WC: 4.9k (part of layla's <5k challenge that barely makes it lol) Rated: E

Note: New Lovely Thorns content coming in the next day or so, for now enjoy revisiting another OC from the Chaos universe as @endofn1ght prompted Chaos-verse Wednesday with Emiliana doing witchcraft. Thank you for all the support and forcing me to analyze some of my work in ways I hadn't previously thought about. This is part of my less than 5k writing challenge of prompts that I'm only allowed to work on at my place of employment when my free time is actually free (was a little less than usual over the last week which is why this took so long).

Set between Wednesday's birthday at the end of Chapter 31 and the start of the epilogue; end of semester / late April-ish at Nevermore - enjoy!

Wednesday kicked the final bit of gravel on her way up to the front porch of one of her favorite places. Emiliana’s cottage looked somehow smaller in the late spring; with everything finally green, the large shade cast from centuries-old woods dwarfed the structure considerably. Augustus slithered down her wrist, excited to enter the home, irritate Piper and greet his favorite turtles. The windows were open on the front, and she assumed likely the French doors on the back. Glad that Emiliana was letting in fresh air, as sometimes the house took on a more powerful odor of stale cigarettes when it was just her home for a while, Wednesday was surprised to have to knock – that she hadn’t heard her coming.

The door opened, revealing a frazzled looking Emiliana. It wasn’t terribly out of the ordinary to find her hair tangled and in just her long, black skirt and too-loose tank top, but she looked particularly greasy that afternoon. Wednesday bit back a sigh instead of a hello as she considered she’d need to shove her in the shower before they did anything productive to relieve the nagging sensation swirling around in her gut. “What is the day?”

Struggling not to smile, Wednesday regarded, “It’s Thursday.”

“I have not gone mad, then. I hate it when you do this – you send me into mild cardiac arrest. You are unharmed?”

Nodding, Wednesday stepped in as she closed the door – spotting a mess in the kitchen, a sink filled with unwashed dishes, a pile of laundry on the sofa, and the floor of the living room covered in remnants of a spell. Her entryway altar was a disaster and Piper was nowhere to be seen – probably avoiding the chaos. She watched as Emiliana struggled to place Wednesday, and tried to read her energy at the same time. She wondered if Emiliana could sense just how unease she truly was.

“I attempted to call and text all morning. I finished working with Aunt Larissa on the proposal for the new council duties, and she doesn’t want me to start anything new until next week. Enid has physical therapy and then her rehearsal. Mother is working with the Doves on oaths, father is entertaining Fangs that are in town, Josie is doing real administration, and you know I simply can’t be bothered with the Nightshades.”

“I am your last resort, then,” Emiliana crossed her arms, her expression mostly playful.

“No,” Wednesday argued. “I just know that you prefer your alone time unless it’s scheduled and was explaining why I’m interrupting…” She looked around at the mess. “This.”

The older Raven gave a chuckle, tugging Wednesday to her and placing an obnoxious kiss on the top of her head. Augustus immediately tore off in search of the yellow and white snake he longed to bother. “You are the one person who can always interrupt me, little bird, regardless of how it fazes my mental state. I am afraid we will have to take most activities upstairs or outside as it is a touch of a mess in here…”

Wednesday popped a brow. “Just a touch? Em – go shower. You’re gross.”

She gave a little cackle into her smoker’s cough. “Indeed, I am. The week has flown by, apparently. I shall see you on the other side of clean,” She didn’t fight the direction, and took to the bathroom with a small salute.

Once she disappeared, Wednesday hurried to start picking things up. It was far from her responsibility, but as Emiliana had picked up so many of the pieces of her life that spring, it hardly seemed enough or like a burden to care for her. Realizing the laundry on the couch wasn’t to be folded, Wednesday rolled her eyes and stuffed it into the washing machine, then moved to unload the half-full dishwasher that Emiliana had been taking things out of instead of putting them away throughout the week. That didn’t take long, and she made haste to reload and run a cycle there, too.

She was sweeping salt away from her to put in a jar after getting the majority of the spell on the floor picked up when Emiliana came out with her wet hair curling into ringlets. She opened the French doors, as hoped, and wondered, “Might we start with music?”

Tilting her head a little, Wednesday decided that was more than appropriate. Her goals for the late April recovery period were to get back to some of her long-abandoned hobbies, and starting a spell session with Emiliana by playing her favorite instrument would be a remarkable way to return to it. Playing music had once been one of her only ways of settling her spirit, and to play with a fellow Raven would be helpful.

She moved it to the end of the couch, wishing Thing were there to turn the pages as Emiliana set up a collapsible music stand for her and placed the selection she wanted there. “I have been composing something I shall play for you after this warmup, and perhaps you can come up with the strings to match?”

“I confess, original music content hasn’t been my forte over my studies, but I would be willing to try,” Wednesday agreed with a small shrug. Emiliana slipped onto her piano bench, wiggled her fingers, and counted them down twice before starting the melody to a famous duet.

Wednesday came in on the third line of music, her bow sweeping over the strings as her fingers moved in time up top. She couldn’t help the smile that came over her features as she got into it – the old habit returning, a swell of joy filling her from the outside in.

The first selection was about eight minutes long, and as it wrapped, Emiliana clumsily dashed over to Wednesday, hugging her tightly. “I love you.”

Grinning into her shoulder, Wednesday gave something like a nuzzle. She considered what she knew about the other Raven that had impacted them – how David Bowie’s music had been the soundtrack of her life. There was something distinctly soothing about music to someone so dark-coded as they, and she wondered if Goody had preferences as well, even if they were liturgical.

“Play me your new song?”

Nodding, Emiliana returned to her favorite place, closing her eyes and squaring her shoulders before letting the ivory keys take her away. She started, playing mostly minor chords – a haunting tune that Wednesday knew just what to do with, instinctively after the first repeating section. She jumped in – natural ability filling the air with cello sounds along with the piano.

It went on – the two playing in harmony for nearly twenty minutes. As they managed to come to a close without a single line of verbal communication, Wednesday was the one to get up first. She tugged Emiliana’s wrists, leading her to the back porch, where they sat on the swing together in silence.

There weren’t words needed between them – the energy spoke volumes. Emiliana kicked back, letting the swing rock. They both lost time – but not in a dangerous way, as they swung back and forth, back and forth until –

“Em? Oh! Hey, Wednesday!” Josie appeared, wearing a pair of athletic pants and an old reptile rescue organization t-shirt, her hair up in a high ponytail. She leaned down to push a kiss on Emiliana’s temple. “I tried to get a hold of you earlier, I figured you might be in the ether. Did you still want to do spring foraging and grocery shopping…?”

Emiliana opened and closed her mouth. “I am afraid I was not aware of the day. What is the time?”

“Going on four-thirty…I finished a meeting and swapped duty with Larissa for Sunday – I’ve got things to do at school then, regardless – I might as well be required to be there. I am so cool to just have turtle time if you -”

“I would still like – and require to, head into the forest. My stores are woefully low. Might we bring a small bird with us?”

“Yeah,” Josie smiled with teeth. “Provided she wants to? Wednesday – I’m not sure what your intentions were here?”

“To spend time with another creature of the dark,” She spoke in earnest. She wasn’t upset with it being Josie who disrupted the moment – but she certainly wasn’t ready to give Emiliana over to her fiancée. “My mother is out of birch – we could collect and distill some – if you’d be willing to go that far into the woods.”

“Whatever you need. The evening is mine now – we can go for a gathering walk, get groceries, eat something – then I am content to leave you two alone after for a bit before we’re ready to wind down for the night.”

Wednesday hurried in for a basket and her boots, while Emiliana insisted it was more than warm enough to be barefoot. Standing on the back porch with Augustus back around her shoulders from where he’d been snuggled in with a half-consenting Piper, Wednesday watched her big sister figures sharing a kiss in the middle of the grass before disrupting them with a hard stare. Josie giggled and pulled her to be between the Ravens, one arm around either of them. They walked a familiar path deeper into the woods behind the cottage, while Josie filled them in on the latest with just two weeks left in the semester – she was busy, but it seemed like the warming weather had behavior incidents down and she’d been largely able to accomplish her work during the daytime hours, instead of being constantly disrupted. Wednesday was distracted by wildflowers, tapping into her unique botany abilities she’d learned to mimic, discovering that a few could very well be useful in potion making with Emiliana. The red aquilegia was particularly interesting, but she warned Emiliana thrice about not attempting to eat it – as the toxicity would prove for a long and challenging evening.

Josie rolled her eyes when she produced a knife from her boot to peel back birch bark. “I find it interesting you’re still keeping a knife on your person, given all the recent trouble that’s caused you?”

“Maybe I just never learn,” Wednesday said with a shrug. “The consequences didn’t relate to having it on my person-”

“Only because Emiliana and I tampered with a crime scene,” Josie sighed. Wednesday felt a strange twist in her stomach. “I’m just saying, Wednesday. I…I’m not saying to walk around unprotected, just…I don’t even know what I’m suggesting. I just don’t want you forget what you’ve been through.”

“Believe me, I couldn’t if I tried,” Wednesday grumbled, picturing the woman’s biological father in a pool of his own blood. The inability to forget was half the reason she’d come to Emiliana that day in the first place.

“Alright,” Josie pulled her close. “I won’t nag.”

Emiliana snorted in a yeah right sort of disbelief and Josie slugged her a little before gesturing to some wild berries.

The foraging walk went on until nearly five-thirty, where Josie pushed a fruit pouch on both of the Ravens before getting them ready to go to the store. Emiliana tried to argue that she wasn’t the one with blood sugar regulation problems, but Josie told her the last thing she needed was scurvy from a week straight of eating noodles and broth.

They loaded into her SUV and Wednesday apologized to Augustus, who was disappointed they weren’t heading out of town to the pet store to get some of the live tiny mice he was fond of killing before eating fresh. Realizing she’d never been grocery shopping with the two women before, Wednesday should’ve been less surprised at just what a scene it was, with Emiliana’s need to touch every piece of fruit or vegetable before putting it in the cart, and asking Josie to read every label on packaged foods that caught her eye. Understanding why Josie usually just helped her with a delivery order, she found herself exercising patience before finally making it back to get started on a late dinner.

Grateful she’d done the dishes so that it was one less thing to do before she got overly hangry and acted out on it, Wednesday enjoyed the simple dinner of warm sandwiches and the fresh fruit and vegetable cut up before Josie finished up and a knock at the door revealed her best friend, who was going to take her out for a drink while Emiliana and Wednesday did their...whatever they were going to do together.

Wednesday eagerly sorted the foraging materials and she and Emiliana set to work cleaning her altar, putting her stones and other items to charge in the moonlight in a basket before smiling at Wednesday when she plopped beside her. “Alright, my little witch, what are you thinking?”

“Something for peace,” She whispered, finally confessing what she really needed with her fellow Raven. “Enid and I…let’s just say – the nights are challenging. I’m not sure how long she is going to be tortured by memories. She’s already had the worst of the feeling removed by the twins, and still, each night at the witching hour…”

“Less you say,” Emiliana sighed. “I am unsurprised. I doubt that I could even attempt to fall asleep at all under the circumstances. Much as I might like to be under a weighted blanket, I do not like to be in an enclosed area, considering what she went through.” She shivered. “My parents used to lock me into the small powder room when I was tearing off and…well, let me just say – I understand. I think…it is not even peace you are looking for. More like certainty.”

“Either way,” Wednesday sighed. “If you can think of a blessing, a potion, or a spell that will help, I will try it.”

Emiliana wiggled her fingers, reaching for a spell book in her native language. She tried to read the contents but sighed and gave up after several minutes, flopping back dramatically on the meditative carpet, mindful of her head. “Wednesday, confessions of truth. It is getting worse.”

“What is?” She asked gently, looking at Emiliana out of the corner of her eyes.

“I am afraid…I am afraid I may be losing more skills. It is common, with a brain injury, regression, or worse, a total loss of a previously mastered skill. But you know I used to be able to at least read decently in French! Now I can hardly manage. Everything looks like squiggles.”

Frowning, Wednesday bit her lip. She really didn’t have any advice to offer. “Would you like me to read to you?”

Emiliana had the base of her palm pushing against her closed eyes. “How am I to read wedding vows if I cannot even read familiar spells?”

That was an entirely separate problem – but that one, Wednesday had a solution for. “You don’t need to read anything. You’ll speak from the heart. And – if you do prefer to have something prewritten, so you don’t slip up, I will help you memorize it. You will give Josie lovely vows, okay? Don’t worry about that.”

When Emiliana didn’t immediately respond, Wednesday frowned, stretching out on the floor beside her. “What are you worried about, if that was just a mask?”

“I feel perpetually like I burden,” Emiliana confessed. “I just do not want this marriage to be a trap for Josie to take care of me.”

Thinking about how other people probably thought that about herself and Enid – but they didn’t see just how Wednesday could show up or be there for her, because it wasn’t anyone’s business, she gave a hug to Emiliana’s shoulders. There were other people in the world who surely struggled with similar problems, but only they knew how uniquely different they were. What it was to be and love a creature of such dark, always striving for light…

Emiliana hugged her in return, and she could feel her crying. “Sometimes I want to take you and hide us away in the countryside and just forage and do potions and spells and meditations forever.”

“Josie would miss you too much, Emi,” Wednesday promised. “I was with her, when you were not. Believe me, she loves you more than you even understand. She takes care of you in different ways as one of her expressions of that love, not in spite of it. You are not a burden. It is to be without you, that is her burden. Hey,” She sat up a little, pulling her fellow Raven up. “Let’s make a peace altar, for both of us. For all we want to ask of the universe.”

“The universe does not want us to have peace, Wednesday! That is half the point of our curse, and you know it!”

“Want doesn’t always get,” Wednesday quoted the myriad of adults in her life who’d long warned her about always having things go her way. “We’ve defied the dark before, and we’ll do it again. Don’t be pessimistic.”

Emiliana sighed, looking up, then to the side. She frowned, sitting up and looking at Wednesday. “When did you become the hopeful one?”

“I had no choice, Em,” She spoke, thinking about that awful night that sent Enid screaming in the middle of almost every night since. “I had to have hope. And I’ll have hope today, for both of us if you can’t find it on your own. I’ll ask for it for you. Come, help me,” She said, closing the book. They didn’t need it. They’d do their own spell, their own way – with her intentions shining through the dark that was clouding Emiliana’s vision.

Heading out to the back porch, she lifted a small, homemade tarp (she loved the way that Emiliana made it her own, lining the silver with black, celestial fabric, and putting a clear vinyl over the top). Beneath it, she took a water carafe, willed with water that she blessed under the recent moon. Bringing it in and sitting at the altar, taking the trunk full of Emiliana’s stores and the basket from their walk, Wednesday watched as she wiped at her cheeks, but started to take out potion ingredients, her little picture labels likely coming in handier than ever.

“I am recalling, somehow,” Emiliana rolled her eyes even as the left one twitched. “Acorns, are for luck.”

She held up a jar full of those that were dried and collected likely from the fall, full to the brim. “Well, add fifteen and hope for peace, then,” Wednesday agreed simply, watching Emiliana line up three rows of five, watching her double count to be sure before setting them into a bowl. She looked at Wednesday, waiting for her to go next.

Reaching into the basket of their yield from the woods, Wednesday removed a blackthorn blossom, placing it with the acorns. “For warding off negative energy.”

Emiliana found a little bit of a smile, apparently finding her approval of Wednesday’s method, lifting a piece of bark. “The city was removing the trees with Dutch Elm disease in the winter. I took a sample, and Holly found it was actually not completely affected, so – I saved the healthy part…As Elm…um, it…helps to balance…?”

“The heart,” Wednesday finished, smiling herself, squeezing Emiliana’s hand.

“Four pieces, then – with a lucky knife. Perhaps…” She took on a serious expression, that also offered Wednesday an out. “Are you yet ready, to open my summoning chest, retrieve your own?”

Shaking her head, she made it clear – Wednesday was not ready for that. “Not yet. Perhaps, come fall – we could do a purification ritual under the harvest moon.”

“Excellent thinking. Add it to your mental calendar, then. I happen to have one…” She lifted up her hands, wandering over to the basket of tools on the tall shelf by her altar. “I once used this to so very carefully remove a hook from one of those babies over there – when Josie and I found him,” She gestured to the tank of turtles. “She says it is a lucky knife.”

She chopped her bark with even slices, tilting her head, inviting Wednesday to make the next choice.

Taking a glance through her many jars and small, homemade sinch-sacs, Wednesday found a dried, pink flower. “Hollyhock. Useful to personal growth.”

“Hm…” Emiliana’s left eye wandered for a moment before she pulled it back, blinking and reaching for a bag. “Mint – for energy. Goodness knows this grows everywhere I don’t want it to out there. I need Holly to spend some time with me,” She mumbled, dropping in seven leaves.

“Pennyroyal,” Wednesday took one from the basket. “For harmony, tranquility.”

“And finally, the liquids.” She took a basket off the shelf, putting lavender and sage oil out, before looking at Wednesday with a sigh, then – sudden watery eyes yet again. “I am so happy to have a partner in the dark to do this with.”

Wednesday gave her a half a smile before headbutting her. “Would you like to grind or smash?”

“Oh, grind, please. You,” She passed her a mallet, “Smashy girl.”

“Always,” She said gleefully, taking the acorns and elm sticks and rolling them into one of Emiliana’s homemade altar cloths, placing it all on a silicone mat and taking it outside, giving them a good few playful whacks before going to town – not letting them stand a chance against the depths of her unrestrained violence.

Once they were more into a powder, Wednesday brought the folded cloth back to Emiliana, who was grinding everything else together with a large mortar and pestle. She let Wednesday add the newly crushed ingredients and continued to grind it all together before Wednesday prepared a simple setup for their spell and blessing.

She carefully selected runes from Emiliana’s collection, placing one of her homemade shell symbols in the moon water she poured into a small simmering cauldron. “Peorth, for luck.”

Emiliana nodded, drawing three Ogham Staves, that Wednesday was sure she hadn’t used at least since the Solstice break at home with her mother. “Hm. Ironic, is it not?”

“Ura, for spiritual healing, Duir, for strength, and Sail, for balance? It sounds exactly like what we need. Put them on the meditation plane.”

Emiliana set it all up, rolling out a clean scarf, putting the three Ogham Staves in a row, placing the dry ingredients in front of them. She added six candles, a photo of Enid and Wednesday, and one of herself and Josie, then as many crystals that gave positivity that Wednesday imagined she had at the cottage. Satisfied with her spread, she crossed her legs and took Wednesday’s hand, lighting the candles with a wave of her own. “Would you like to give your intentions?”

“I acknowledge, the break in traumatic events that we are presently being allowed – from the universe. I express, my gratitude for it – as I am not sure how we could have continued to cope. But – the ramifications of all that took place, continue to haunt us. I implore, peace – positivity – light. I must be able to be more present and grounded, I must be able to provide comfort to my beloved who needs me most at the current time. Em?”

“I recognize,” She could hear her swallow, “My privilege in position, in wealth, in relative health. But I also feel a sense of futility – that I am not able to give enough to my own beloved, and that I am taking more. I implore – peace, positivity – light. I ask for these things to be stable. I must be able to give as much of myself as is given to me.”

Feeling their intentions were matched, Wednesday spoke in verse, letting a natural sense of rhythm and rhyme take over.

I seek both light and peace, I request that this darkness cease.   I need a positive force that can bring Something good to this endless spring. I require a flame from the eternal fire, To help me be a healer and inspire. I ask this, for the only one I adore - Grant us peace, forevermore.

Emiliana spoke a familiar blessing in French, and Wednesday smiled at her as she finished, pouring their dry ingredients into the pot, while Emiliana added the oils. They stirred together, focused on intentions, before Emiliana lit the flame in the fireplace and put the small cauldron on her hook. Cleaning up just a little bit from the spell – it wasn’t a terrible mess, they passed the time while waiting for the potion to brew, about three hours.

Not realizing how much time had passed, Wednesday felt her cheeks heat up when her mother opened the cottage door with Enid, finding Emiliana and Wednesday in the middle of a very dramatic tarot reading for her Beanie Babies. Enid managed to take a picture before suggesting they head home as it was going on her late snack and bedtime, and she wasn’t one to skip her routines.

Feeling just a little bit irritated that she wouldn’t be able to see the potion through to the end, Wednesday let Emiliana scoot both members of the party out to the front porch before she located Augustus from where he’d been antagonizing her own snake, putting the boy around Wednesday’s shoulders, and tugging her close. “I will mind the potion and bring it to you tomorrow morning with an appropriate color tie and charm.”

She hugged her in return, feeling a strange pit of emotion as she held onto Emiliana’s thin frame. She turned her cheek against her bony collarbone, looking to the side, staring at the fire. Wednesday knew her intentions were clear when creating the potion, but…she wasn’t so sure if it would hold up or prove effective.

As Emiliana embraced her long, it seemed like…sometimes – that homespun magic was all an illusion; the potions and spells sometimes felt like nothing more than a placebo effect. Perhaps it really was, and the magic of it all was belief and pluck and –

“You are thinking over, little bird.”

“I know,” She whispered, still clutching onto her.

“You have proved, time and again – you are very strong, very powerful.”

“At a cost. I don’t think that potion will cause anyone to be hospitalized.”

Emiliana’s fingers tangled under her braids as she pulled her back to look her in the eye. Her left one was twitching like it wanted to be shut for the night. “Do not estimate under the power you have,” Emiliana warned.

Nodding – not sure how to do that, but knowing Emiliana’s misused idioms were wise, she accepted her obnoxious kisses to her cheeks before taking her backpack and the Beanie Baby blackbird and scorpion from the floor, tucking them inside, seeing all the missed messages on her phone that had caused her girlfriend and mother to have to walk over to collect her. Giving a wave to Emiliana, Wednesday accepted next her mother’s hand to her shoulder before letting Enid envelop her in a warm greeting.

“Sorry for interrupting your Beanie Baby tarot reading. That looked really fun! Did you get anything good out of it?”

Wednesday hid a dramatic sigh, contemplating on the fairly neutral cards she’d drawn that night. “Nothing life-changing, for the better or worse.”

“Well, we’ll take that, too,” Enid let go and slipped her fingers between Wednesday’s, practically skipping along the solar-powered little garden lights that illuminated the path from Emiliana’s cottage to the Addams house.

Wednesday had made a potion to give her hope that night. The irony of it was – the only reason who’d ever given her any reason to chance that sensation in the first place, despite her chipper-looking demeanor on the trail, was the very reason she needed it, and would likely be hysterical in just six hours.

Trying not to think over as they made it home, ate her usual pre-bed snack and followed her established routine with Enid, Wednesday tucked in beside her. Enid was cuddled on top of her chest like usual, obviously exhausted from her day – and had slipped to sleep in minutes.  

She’d sought out Emiliana for the very same reason that her fellow Raven had spoken the quiet part out loud – when she struggled with her reading. Sometimes – the weight of the dark, even if there was no vision, no promise of horror from the universe, was simply too much. To be understood in a way that such a microscopic percentage of Outcasts had ever truly been cursed…

There was a light from the nightstand an hour and a half later as Wednesday wanted to take her mother’s sleeping potion, but also didn’t want to be too out of it when Enid woke up in short time. Reaching for her phone, she examined the picture Emiliana sent; her potion was in a small bottle, with white-dipped twine, tied around the neck, a small bird charm of promise adhered in wax. There was no text attached to it, just the picture of the potion.

It looked beautiful in the light of the still-burning candles and Wednesday sighed, putting it back, adjusting herself around Enid’s sleeping form as she rolled onto her side with a snore. She considered the poem she’d spoken in verse over the potion, willing the universe to grant her a few hours of peace before she’d be woken up to provide it to her traumatized girlfriend.