#anyways. breeding is a money risk even if done right

[darkwood-sleddog]

Bruh, anonymous posters in dog Facebook groups are buck wild….

[popculturebuffet]

Did you hear the recent news on how the Cartoon Cartoons shorts program announced in 2021 has now been dismantled and the shorts won't ever get released or even be picked up for a TV show? To make it worse, Cartoon Network threatened to blacklist the creators of these unreleased pilot shorts if they try to pitch them to other networks so we can't even get a scenario of a different network picking up these shows (ironic given Cartoon Network picked up Adventure Time when Nickelodeon refused to make it into a TV show). Thoughts seeing how bad it's escalating for Cartoon Network?

The fact they won't even try with that program does speak volumes at how they haven't really been gaining originals of their own anymore (Craig of the Creek, We Baby Bears, and Prince Ivandoe are on their last legs and Iyanu is the only CN original coming up, assuming it doesn't get sent to Adult Swim) and won't even use the program to help save themselves with more originals.

I just.. it's fucking depressing. Cartoon Network was my childhood, was my world growing up and while I thought at first people saying it's dying were just exagerating as tv networks are a dying breed anyway, mostly kept afloat by older folks. I still use my xfinity on occasion, but even I primiarly stream. (or watch hours and hours of behind the bastards on youtube as is my standard these days, but I digress).

But no.. it's very clear the network's day is done, a shell of what it once was. Craig of the Creek is over, the shows you mentioned are wrapping up and any future use of their properties is earmarked for hbo max. WBD Has no use for it's future and i'm 100% sure looking at Iyanu it'll get ported to adult swim, which isn't a bad thing at this point. It's clear Adult Swim has solid renewal power. I also shudder knowing Tiny Tunes Looniversity is probably dead and they'll burn off the rest next month or year, and Jellystone isn't far behind

As for this itself, it's a mixed blessing. On teh one hand burning it to the ground and refusing to use it is scummy if standard warner and the threat to blacklist is just fucking awful. On the other... that threat is hollow as shit. Yes it would keep you from working on adult swim shows and hbo max shows.. but at this point it's clear WBD itself is NOT a safe place for animation, having scuttled two whole films (Both scooby doo), ruined an adaptation of an acclaimed manga, and in general trying to wind down for the most part, with only adult swim and now the DC divsions being stable and tha'ts only for now sadly. There is less risk in getting blackballed from warner than there is trying to work with them and most creators still doing it simply don't have a choice: either their ip is owned by them, or like invincible fight girl, they've simply put all this work in and survivied this far, might as well keep goin so their hard work gets released seen and stored somewhere on the internet. This blacklist threat is so laughably hollow it's hilarious. They COULD call other networks to get mad at them.. but if the creators still clearly have the legal right to pitch it to another network and Cartoon Network dosen't actually own anything but the pilot, and can't actually sue any of the other companies even in a SLAPP sense, then it's empty. What warner has always failed to get since this merger is the creative soul of a project: if someone poured their heart and soul into something, it's more worth taking a chance to get it made elsewhere. Olan Rogers has worked his ass off to make sure Final Space got concluded despite the fucking weird and self desctuvie hoops WBD has put up for him (Seriously if they actually helped publish the final chapter it'd not only be way more avaliable, but they'd get the money), and has seemingly found a partner for Godspeed because he's that passionate. Because the work MATTERS to him. And if the work matters, your going to take a gamble on seeing your dream come out rather than a vauge threat from a company who probably won't give you a job anyway and if they do it's certainly not stable.

[writingsofwesteros]

a little prequel for this:

https://www.tumblr.com/writingsofwesteros/715878789256724480/au-where-harwin-lives-and-ends-things-with?source=share

the fight between harwin and criston is about to happen and lady y/n is present. she's new-ish at the court but familiar with shit that's going down there haha. her brother is one of the city watch captains so she and harwin are aware of each other (they're both a little flirty when they cross paths)

anyways, she senses the vibes are bad and when harwin's about to snap she calls on him "lord Commander I have an urgent message from my brother for you, it's city watch business." he almost ignores it (who cares about the watch right now 😅) but he cannot ignore her. the delicate lady who doesnt give a shit about training or weapons and yet she's right there, her voice uncharacteristically loud. he glares at criston and is killing him in his mind as he's approaching her. she gives him time to cool off a bit and they both start to converse, completely forgetting about the 'urgent message'. She confesses she thought it would be the best if he got away from bitchy criston so she intervened. to her surprise he agrees and admits she saved him from big trouble. she smirks "you owe me then, commander" and he's just grinning at her kissig her hand before parting their ways.

lyonel is still furious at harwin (even without a bigger incident happening) and tells him to sort his shit out before he'll shot himself in the foot again. how he's risking their house's name and putting him, the hand, in precarious position. Harwin is mad yet he simply can't stop thinking of his 'savior'. despite joffrey being recently born, he seeks out her presence and eventually starts courting her. she gives him hard time about it because it is shameful what he and reckless princess done but she's also very much into him. He's on his best behvior and asks her to move to harrenhal after the wedding. she agrees, joking how a supposedly haunted castle would be a much peaceful place than the keep.

their wedding is a grand event (haha you know old vizzy gave lyonel some hush money to fund this magnificent feast), it's a big fuck you to all the rumours and the enemies of the crown. they indeed left for harrenhal and very soon the raven with news about the strong heir being born arrives. harwin really wanted to prove himself to his lovely new wife and made sure he gave her that baby asap (hello breeding kink 👀).

okay, that was longer than I expected 🫠

!!

IN LOVE!! I am here for it !!

Harwin needs more love and they live happily ever after here

[haelsage]

ALL of IT

Fuck your comments behind my back. I don't actually think I'm all that; I'm not confident at all. Whatever you think you see is my defense mechanism against my own thoughts tearing me down, all day long. I don't need your criticism on top of it. I've had enough in the past and it's something I'm working on overcoming = realizing I'm actually worth something.

Fuck your judgements of me when you have no idea how or why I ended up in this house anyway. If I could have afforded a place that was away from people, I would have stayed where I was. Duh. Fucking DUH! I chose a place (within my budget) with a bigger yard for a reason. You have no business telling me what I should have done if you know nothing about my past. Your shitty assumptions are invalid. And my animals are the reason I'm alive now after what I went through, so re-homing any of them will not be an option, even temporarily.

Fuck your easy solutions, that actually cause other problems, when I have enough just like everyone else. I've been dealing with the "sound" issue for over 20 years; do you really think I haven't thought of headphones? In fact, that was my first defense strategy 25 years ago. I currently have 3 different pairs, and they cost money I don't fucking have. They also make it difficult to have a conversation with my boyfriend or his kids. I can't hear my animals if they're in trouble or need something. That's right, I DON'T LIVE ALONE. And I risk getting an ear infection on hot days because the sweat accumulation causes a breeding ground for bacteria to grow. Yuck. I've got ear plugs too, and again, I can't hear conversations. I've got fancy ones, shitty ones, and some in between. Soft, foamy ones don't block out the sounds I need them to, others hurt after a couple hours. Custom earplugs require an appointment that my insurance only covers so much of + price of actual earplug when it comes in = more money I don't have. So I suffer through with what I've got. I mean, it's SO convenient switching between types of ear protection all day long when I'm home. And I LOVE not being able to have important discussions with my partner. Ear protection doesn't provide limitations AT ALL. I don't want to have to live the rest of my life this way, you know. Not to mention the headaches that wearing constant ear protection causes.

Fuck your "take them off once in a while." If I do that, the anxiety itself sets in and I'm constantly on guard. Which triggers a whole other set of issues that I've gone through extensive therapy to resolve. So I'm stuck in a "pick Your battle" situation, which does not help the small progress I made on other aspects of my "horribleness."

Fuck your white noise. Fans going at all times also runs up my electric bill = more money I don't have. And the loudness at which I have them makes it difficult to have a phone conversation with doctors and staff. Because that fan needs to be next to me at all times, if I can manage not to wear ear protection. So I try to fit this into my lunch break at work, but 30 minutes isn't long enough to accomplish anything when I'm on hold for 20 minutes first, then have to get redirected anyway; because you can't just call the doctor. Such an effective strategy to make the necessary phone calls to keep things rolling.

Fuck your "find a quiet location after work to make those phone calls." I have to get home and let my dog outside. I purposely make my appointments for an hour after I'm done with work, so I have time to let her out. My partner doesn't get home until almost 4pm, so that's almost 12 hours. And I'm not letting anyone else in my house to do this for me. Fuck that.

And fuck the doctors who ignore me until I threaten suicide. Fuck the doctors who keep denying me the help I need because the test results are inconclusive or I "can't handle the noise of an MRI machine." Even though I'll be prepared for it and already know those noises aren't a threat. Or because this problem just isn't debilitating, because I can still go to work.

The fuck it's not. Work is the only place I feel safe from having a panic attack. When I'm home, I'm afraid to do anything. If I can manage to find a spot in my house where outside noises don't reach me, I don't leave that spot. I'm afraid to move away from it in order to clean, do laundry, make dinner, or even take a fucking shower. Because the running water doesn't drown it out either. I've changed my entire routine so that I can shower when there is less going on outside; which causes me to forget other things like feed the dog or pack my lunch, get dinner out for the next day, get the mail, pay a bill on time. The list goes on.

Fuck your "those things just aren't as important then." I've completely changed who I am so that the neighborhood can carry on with their convenience while I sacrifice the majority of my own. My accommodation is causing other stress in my life. Side note for those who have a nice basement: mine is a dirt floor; not a comfortable place to hide for hours at a time. Which would also prevent me from getting necessary tasks done around the house, or heaven forbid, coming upstairs out of my safe zone to eat a damn meal. But thanks for the tip. I'm just stupid little Leah with no real responsibilities or basic needs.

Fuck your "just have the man do it." He has his own health issues that are none of your business. No, I can't just make him do everything. And that's shitty anyway because we're a team: we agree that there's no such thing as one person does everything in this household. We pick up the slack when the other doesn't have enough energy. To have one person pick up all the slack is shitty. Sorry, but neither of us were raised that way.

So Fuck having to leave my house all day long on weekends just to escape. So my home is supposed to just be somewhere I can hopefully sleep? How fucking stupid to be paying this mortgage for just a bed. I have animals to take care of, and a partner that also lives in the house I own, in my name. I still have to wash my clothes and shower. And I'm not hiring someone to mow my lawn and take care of my yard (with money I don't have) while my boyfriend is home doing everything else because I just can't be at home. How fucking stupid?

Fuck having to leave my house after 8 pm, just to get a break from wearing the damn headphones. I wake up at 4:30 am for work. Leaving my house until the outside noise calms down (10pm, hopefully) is the last thing I want to be doing at that time of night. Or taking my dog to the park so she can poop without me having to stand outside my house hoping nothing triggers a panic attack. Take a nap? Didn't I mention that I DO have responsibilities?

Fuck your "I understand" bullshit. No you don't. You have no idea what I'm feeling. As far as my brain is concerned, I'm only trying to defend myself against an assault. The "noise" is not in my ears; it's in the center of my head. When someone is playing music or bouncing a basketball (that one actually causes severe twitching) all I can feel is the thumping. Yes I say feel, because for some dumb reason these sounds actually skip the auditory process. Once the noise is happening, I don't hear it, I only FEEL it. Like someone is kicking the other side of a wall against my forehead, or punching me in the side of my face; except I'm not allowed to tell the person to stop. The sound sends my brain a message that I'm physically being attacked; my instinct is to fight back, which causes a panic attack because I can't.

Fuck the people who keep telling me that this needs to stay hidden. I belong to a support group full of people with similar symptoms and they're also having trouble getting help and finding relief because there hasn't been enough opportunity to research something like this. I've explained my symptoms to an audiologist and multiple therapists and they're all at a loss because no one knows what this is. I can't even get this defined because of the lack of research. If it stays hidden, how do we get more information? How do other people get help? I FINALLY found a doctor who suggested this might be neurological. What a light bulb moment. But again, denial after denial, after denial.

And fuck the therapists who tell me to just keep trying the same strategies that obviously aren't working. Other noises that used to bother me? Mostly taken care of. But not the ones that skip the auditory process and all the filters of it. This is beyond a sound issue; it's a message misfiring issue, and they have no idea how to help me combat it. It's not Misophonia or Tinitus. They can't even find a word for it. But the doctors who might be able to just keep dismissing me. An MRI might show where the misfire is happening but there "isn't enough evidence" that I need one.

Fuck your "stop making excuses." I AM spending money I don't have on these safeguards, strategies, coping methods, therapies, tests, etc. I have the medical debt to prove it, and I don't get breaks. I have looked into programs and what insurance covers is a disgustingly large gray area when I can't get a real diagnosis to get accepted in the first place. All this searching for answers, that no one seems interested in helping me find, piles up a mountain of debt in a hurry, that is quickly becoming unmanageable. So let's add another stressor to the equation. As my budget gets tighter, a smaller place is probably smart, but it might not be big enough for my family, and my neighbors would be theoretically even closer = increasing the intensity of the issues that I'M TRYING TO FIX.

Fuck the US health care system in general. Fuck the insurance companies who don't cover treatments some people need in order to actually live life like others can. Fuck the "not a probable candidate" bullshit. Fuck the doctors who won't let me get an MRI just to make sure it's not neurological. I had to BEG the ENT for even a CT scan that came back "Normal, with no masses." No shit fuckers. So now YOU also know it's not a bone structure or fluid issue. Fuck the ones who aren't even trying to help.

So fuck your telling me that I'm not trying hard enough. I'm at my wit's end trying to get help figuring this out. I've had my ears cracked: no pressure to release = no change. I've had numerous doctors tell me they can't find blockage in my ears. Duh. I hear better than most people. Of course that's not the problem. I'm wishing more and more by the hour that I was just deaf, but I'm afraid that will only make me FEEL the noises more intensely. But I'm also so desperate at this point that I don't give a fuck what other problems that might cause. I really don't. I'm already uncomfortable as fuck in my own home.

Fuck your "just relax" comments. I can't do the things that help me relax. I didn't even want to plant a garden this year because I CAN'T GO OUTSIDE. I can't do any yard work because I CAN'T GO OUTSIDE. When I do manage to get outside, I run back in the house after an hour in case something triggers a panic attack. I can't sit and have a quality conversation with my boyfriend with headphones on, or loud fans running. It's constant "huh, what did you say?" until we finally just ignore each other for the evening. I don't want the kids to come over because I don't want them to see me lose control. I'm afraid of having a panic attack. I'M AFRAID TO COME HOME FROM WORK, but I have to let my dog out since she's like, a major priority in my life. I'm afraid to be home alone, but I'm also afraid to keep burdening everyone at my table, and "ignoring them" with my headphones on.

Fuck your metaphors. I don't even have a glass to fill or pour from. I throw stones because I'm sick of carrying them around in my hand all day, all week, all month. I don't have anywhere else to put them. That shit gets heavy. Especially when people tell you to keep hiding it. Did I mention that the therapists are struggling to find ways to help me? Yes, I believe I've alluded to that already.

And fuck your "everyone has problems to deal with." Yes, I'm aware of that. But mine causes me to have even more inconvenience while trying to live as "normal" of a life as possible. Most days days are difficult at best. It's been almost a year since I wasn't terrified to come home from work, just to be alone for 90 minutes. My animals can't exactly stop a panic attack from happening. My boyfriend works evenings occasionally. I've spent many of those on the floor in a ball sobbing, while I'm holding my headphones as close to my ears as possible; because I just can't take anymore sound invasions in my head. Because my hearing is THAT sensitive that sometimes just wearing them doesn't block it out. If that sound hits me, my night is over.

Fuck your "focus on something else." Think of a time when you've physically been beaten or felt any kind of intense pain. Are you able to focus on anything else in that moment? It's pretty difficult to think of anything else when my brain is telling my body that I'm being attacked. FUCK. YOU. It's my body responding to the message from my brain. This is where I'm at in describing these sensations to others. It took me until rather recently to even realize that what I'm actually doing is having a panic attack. I don't even know what I'm saying when this happens because I'm in PANIC mode. My brain is saying "STOP THE ATTACK! STOP THE ATTACK!" over and over. Do you fucking understand that? I'm not being a "stupid bitch." I'm terrified as fuck in these moments.

Fuck your theories. I've seen multiple therapists and they've all confirmed that I don't have schizophrenia or a personality disorder. My partner can hear what I hear, it just doesn't bother him. This may be Hyperacusis, but that can take years to diagnose. It's taken me 15 years to even get to that theory. I keep getting treated for anxiety and depression, which I most definitely have, but it's a band-aid. No one I've talked to can actually figure out what's going, and only a couple are even aware of the concept of Hyperacusis. But it's not their field, so they have no information. I found that theory on my own, and it fits EVERYTHING that I'm experiencing. So I'm on that path to discovering if that's the root of the issue, and if that may actually be causing the depression in the first place. And how did it develop? Why does it come and go. Why is it more intense and sticking around longer this time? But frankly, this has been such a long process as it is, that I'm not sure I have that much time left. I'm almost 40 and still feel like I've gotten nowhere. There's so little research on treatments of this condition because "it has to stay hidden." Bullshit. How do we get information if we're not allowed to talk about the experience. For fuck's sake.

Fuck your "that should have been your priority." To be clear, this issue comes and goes, as I mentioned in the above paragraph. When it's more intense, I seek help in addressing it; if I wasn't I'd have been in a psyche ward long ago. So I have had times when the sensitivity is less invasive. And in those times, I was enjoying actually living a life. This is by far the longest episode I've had, and also the most terrifying one, for me, to date. This thing has "ruined" my life in the past. But this time I built the life I've needed, and it's ruining this one, too. Instead of living it, I find myself glued to a chair, afraid to move around inside my house. Or I sit and cower in fear of going outside my house. If I leave, I wear headphones just to get the 12 feet to my car. Because God forbid I have a panic attack before I get to it. I'm losing desire to keep going when all I can do to survive an evening at home is hide in fear.

Fuck your "stop being so dramatic." You have no idea what kind of trauma I'm going through daily, hourly. The trauma I've worked so hard to over come, but I end up feeling like I took 10 steps backwards every time a severe panic attack happens.

Fuck your "you're just one person." But I AM human, so why aren't my struggles valid? I've spent my entire life putting everyone first, following the whims of others to keep the peace, accommodating to the convenience of others to the point ignoring my own needs. But if I do speak up, it's a potential argument, because heaven forbid stupid little Leah has anything important to say. I'm sick of being shoved back in a box when I don't conform. I'm such a piece of shit that I'm not even allowed opinions, thoughts, ideas, etc.

So fuck you. I'm tired of suffering. I'm tired of being afraid. You have no fucking idea what I'm actually going through here. If you DO know what this feels like, please share how you get through a day without wishing you didn't wake up when you go to sleep at night. PLEASE.

Shall I continue?

Fuck your I don't knows, maybes, somedays, laters, another time, etc. Fuck the pressure you don't realize that puts on me with everything else. Fuck your "it's not bad enough to be complaining." Story of my life; I keep quiet way more than you even realize. Push it down, hide it, your emotions don't matter. Fuck you. I'm human too.

Fuck your "be more social" suggestion. Every time I try that it causes my depression to worsen and I spiral into suicidal thoughts. I'm an introvert who requires extended periods of solitude and downtime to recharge, especially after a workday. If I can't get this regularly, my energy battery dies and I want to die with it. Like I need DAYS to recover from even a couple hours of being social in public.

Fuck anyone who says my man is a terrible father. The shit you talk about is MY fault, not his. It's because of MY issues. And frankly, unless you're the kids' mom, my issues that I have not mentioned here are none of your business. And, at the end of the day, it's MY house. If I'm the wrong person for him, that's up to him to decide, and also none of your business.

Oh, there's more.

Fuck Covid, Fuck the rising prices of everything. Fuck religion. Fuck your wars. Fuck the upcoming election. Fuck the violence. Fuck your disagreements. Fuck your judgements about things you know nothing about. Fuck your attitude. Fuck your lack of compassion. Fuck your insincerity. Fuck your ignorance. Fuck your intelligence. Fuck the gaslighting. Fuck your underhanded criticism. Fuck your lies, fuck your "I told you so."

And fuck anyone at all that stands in my way when I decide to disappear and forge my own life. When my animals are gone....if I even last that long.

[your-local-e-gorl]

Online Shopping

This is taken from a very self indulgent ff that I’m writing for a friend, taken after the relationship has been established for a while.

NSFW: Dacriphylia, age gap, bratty behavior, nothing too bad. Pure smut, breeding,mentions of smoking,read at your own risk. I wrote this while stoned a few months ago. YwThisIsProbsGonnaSuck

“Shouta, stop!” His hips stop slowly as he wears a shit eating smirk. “You’re not seriously considering what to wear, right?” I grip his thigh while trying to catch my breath. “I was, but someone is distracting me,” I snap. “I want to relax and pick out an outfit in peace!” Hips roll into mine again, friction pulling slowly through me. I gasp as he pulls me into his lap further, suddenly weak.

“That dress would look lovely on you. Maybe with a pair of heels?” I manage to view it and I instantly fall in love with the lace and the way it hangs from the model’s waist. “I actually do like it… maybe not in blue though.” His hand wraps around my thigh, grasping hard enough to bruise. Stubble brushes against my skin as he presses his nose to my neck. “See if they have it in black. That always looks good on you,” he instructs.

I scroll through the multiple hues, eyes blurring from his ministrations. Eventually, after flitting through blues and reds, I come across a jet black. “They do,” i sigh. His hips buck into mine effortlessly despite my added weight. “Add it to the cart. Now. “

The authority in his voice makes my body quiver. My hand reaches for the mouse yet he moves it out of reach. I look at him expectantly. Evil fuck. “Reach, baby. Go on.” I moan out as he presses against my sensitive walls. “Now shoes. You like pretty shoes. Right?” His tone shows how amused he is.

“Later. I t-think we should fin… finish first,” I chiose. “After all I have some nice ones-“ Fingers crawl up my leg and stop at my hip. “Did you forget that you’re being punished for your interruption? I said, pick out some shoes.” My chest palpitates as I write in his lap, his demanding words seeping into my thoughts.

“You’re being so-“ I gasp as he shifts a bit. “I’m being?” “Mean! If you’re gonna fuck me, then do it! I can’t take it,” I choke out. He stares at me blankly. “Aren’t you the one who wanted to see what I was doing?” I whimper with a nod. “I did. But now I want you to fuck me, Shouta. Please?”

Unexpectedly, he doesn’t cater to my request. Rather, he stops what he’s doing and pulls out his phone.

All I can do is stare in disbelief. There’s no way he’s going to leave me half satisfied. “Are you just trying to be a dick? Hurry up,” I urge.

“Not until you finish shopping. Continue.” I pout on top of his lap before clicking a random pair. “Done!” He glances over my desperate face before squeezing it. “Those aren’t your style, baby. How about we make a deal? I give you what you’ve been begging for, but if you stop scrolling then this-“ he gestures to his cock halfway in me. “Stops. ” I nod rapidly, pleased at the agreement. “Yes sir!”

He starts slowly grinding into me as I scroll, determined to waste his money. He’s got plenty of it anyways. I groan at the way he hits my cervix, the pain mixing with unadulterated pleasure. My fingers guide the mouse to the cheaper side of the site. I proudly look up at him with the ugliest choice of shoes. They’re even uglier than the first choice of mine.

His grip on my hips tighten, pulling me against his pelvis. Pleasure shocks my body as he suddenly thrusts up. I push his arm to squirm and face him, confused on the fleeting force, but with just one arm he restrains me.

“Aizawa! Zawa’ please! Just one kiss, please,” I ask sweetly while I struggle against his thrusts. He ignores me, clicking on the assortment of higher priced shoes. I guess he was serious about one thing.

“Shouta? Please- I. Just one. Please?” I bat my eyelids as his thrusts slow. He guides my hips up and fixes the posture, determination reflecting back for the screen.

My lips attack his with a hunger like never before. “T-thank you,” I whine. He clicks on a pair of beautiful gold pumps with red bottoms. “Baby, look. You’re a fan of this brand. Should I get it?” I groan and whine in frustration yet again before pulling myself off of him. “I don’t care! I just want you to ruin me. Please, Shou? Please. I’ll take everything you give me. I’ll be your perfect, pretty baby,” I coo in a voice that’s as thick and sweet as honey.

He doesn’t even spare me a glance. “Sit back down or we’re through for the night. Last warning. Do you understand?” With trembling legs and teary eyes, I hurry to occupy his lap once more, his hands dragging me closer.

We both let out various, desperate noises, each moment tugging us further into a sea of lust. “You want it bad too. I know you do, Shouta. Just give in and fuck me. Why hold yourself back?” I coax breathily into his ear, tits bouncing as I ride him.

His hands cup my breasts before taking one into his lips. “You keep this up and I’ll be the only one cumming, tonight. But you’d probably enjoy that. Goddamn slut.”

I clench tightly at his biting insult before changing my tactic. I release my tears from the pent up frustration of his teasing. “If you don’t want to fuck me, then just say that!” I huff. Tears trickle down my lashes, seemingly pulling a look of regret from his face. “Or let me find it somewhere e-“

My words are quickly stolen from my lips by a deep, shuddering whine. My hands push against his thigh and chest. “T-too much! Shouta, it hurts,” I sob. He stares at me with a stern look despite my protests. He’s bottomed out and pulling me into him even further, as if it’s possible.

“What were you saying? About finding it somewhere else, that is.” I continue to push against him, unable to breathe from the overwhelming feeling of being full. He chuckles in my ear before pulling me upwards. I’m slammed down on him, successfully impaling me on his cock.

My mouth drops open in a cry as he bullies my cervix. “Stop, please,” I moan. “ ‘M sorry. I didn’t mean it- just wanted you to f-fuck me. Thou-ght isn’t was a good ‘dea.” But ‘s too much. ‘M too full.” My words are breathy as I attempt to accommodate his size.

“You’re getting what you wanted, right,” he pants into my chest. “Now shut up and take it.” The squelching noises reverberate in my ears along with a weak moan. All I can do is wrap my arms around his neck and as he said, take it.

His lips fall onto my neck, hot kisses trailing the skin around it while apologies fall from my lips. “Keep babbling, baby. Fuck, apologies sound so good coming from you.”

...

“I love you,” I sigh. “I really do.” His sweaty chest leaves my back as he rises from the bed. “I know you do, baby. Now, get some rest, okay?” I feel the mattress dip as he sits down and brushes my hair. “Shouta?” My lips are taken in his. “I love you too.”

A tingle runs up my spine and curls my toes, the warmth swimming through my heart. “You leavin’,” I murmur in question. My hand grasps his wrist in desperation. “Stay.”

Aizawa stands as he searches for what I’m assuming is the towel. “Just gonna go get something to drink. Here.” To my surprise he hands me a pre roll from the dresser. “Inside?” “Eri isn’t home and I know you’re gonna be sore for a while. Go ahead.”

I hug him tightly, sweaty hair sticking to him like little snakes. “I have to most considerate boyfriend.” With a chuckle and giving a flick to my forehead, he walks off.

By the time he’s back, laptop and two bottles of water in his giant hands, I’m already high as a goddamn kite. “What are you smiling about?” he grunts. “You’re pretty.”

I tilt my head up as he presses against me. “You must be trying to get another round out of me. Are you?” I can’t help but to laugh in pure delight. He’s just so wonderful!

“I just love you. Okay?” The cynical look on his face slowly melts away, replaced by the softest look I’ve ever had the pleasure of receiving. It’s so tender and relaxed.

“I love you too, princess. Enough to marry ya’, ya’ know?” I don’t get the chance to say anything as his lips close against mine. In one swift movement he’s buried in me to the hilt, both arms trapped in his grip. I’m so full that it hurts.

“Z-Zawa, pull out,” I plead. He groans and shudders into my neck, his much larger body threatening to crush me. “I just fucked you… you’re still this tight?” I gasp and claw at the sheets in attempt to break free. I want to touch him. I want to feel him.

“Stop fighting baby. Let me just get you ready and then I’ll let you go, ‘kay?” He knows just what to say to get me weak in the knees. I nod with a whine as he shifts. My legs instinctively close across his back, allowing us to be closer.

My head swims as he pounds into my contrastingly smaller frame. “Sora, look at me. You okay?” I try to focus my eyes on him as his hand grips my cheeks. “G-gonna pass out,” I slur. He blinks rapidly. “What’s wrong?” I whine reluctantly. “Don’t stop. Almost there, I need to cum.”

“Baby- you’re going to-“ “Please? Fuck me through it. You gotta.” He’s the only one I could allow myself to be vulnerable to, in this way. The only one I could express this desire to.

Thousands of tingles crawl throughout my body as my orgasm crashes into effect. His fascinated gaze and subtle groans as he spills inside of me manage to finally pull me under, the black taking over.

[strawberrysoup]

Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 1

You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever. 

pairings: dark!Avengers x reader word length: 3.3k chapters: 1/? warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. Open the read more and CTRL + F, search “content warnings” to skip to detailed trigger warnings at the bottom of the chapter.

Cleaning rich people’s vacation homes hadn’t been your dream job growing up. You had such high hopes when you were a kid, well into your teens, of becoming a zoologist. It had started off like most kid’s dreams—in kindergarten you wanted to be a veterinarian. That grew into wanting to become a herpetologist, but then you wondered, why limit yourself? As a zoologist you could be around tons and tons of animals, studying their behaviors and ecological impacts. It was about half way past your fourteenth birthday that you realized none of your dreams mattered.

You woke in the middle of the night to a crippling pain in your stomach, an unbearable heat boiling under your flesh. You must’ve been screaming, because your parents burst in frantically—only to stop dead upon stepping past the threshold. At the time you had no idea why, but it had been shock. Omegas were rare nowadays, more and more betas were being born while the number of omegas dropped. It was a point on contention; betas could breed with alphas, rendering the omega almost obsolete but alphas, especially ones with packs, wanted omegas.

Personally, you figured that evolution had decided to take things into its’ own hands. Everything about omegas spat in the face of adaption; they were small and delicate, hardwired to obey alpha commands even to their own detriment, experienced a full weeks’ worth of being completely and utterly incapable of survival on their own—

Well, unless one acquired (through whatever means necessary) methods to prevent it that one. Heats, a homegrown threat guaranteed to commit acts of violence at least twice a year. By the time your first had worn off, your parents had already jumped into action. They had three different packs bidding on you. Your mother had been bubbling with glee, talking about how wonderful it was that she had produced an omega when she herself was a beta. Your very existence was about to rocket them into both fame and fortune. So, you ran away. That same night.

It had been shockingly easy to locate illegal suppressants. They taught all about them in school, how they were horrible and taxing on an omega’s physiology. Suppressants masked an omega’s scent, prevented their heats, and (in your opinion) were the best invention of the twenty first century. You couldn’t have given a flying fuck about what negative impacts they might’ve had on your body—death would be a reprieve. Unfortunately you’d yet to have any of the widely touted negative effects (effects that you were pretty sure were made up to keep omegas afraid and compliant) and so you found yourself cleaning rich people’s vacation homes just over the Canadian border.

You’d been living out of your car since you first bought it at sixteen, for five hundred dollars. You gave a creepy beta a blowjob to get your license forged. It was the best investment you’d ever made (not that you had the opportunity to make many) and the clunker was still getting you from point A to point B and that’s all you needed. You had to move constantly, staying in one place too long meant people started to notice you, especially in the small towns you frequented in Ontario. But there was so much forest surrounding you that every once in a while you could just drop off the face of the earth, camping so deep in the woods no one would stumble across you. It made staying anonymous so much easier.

That was actually the current plan, after you finished cleaning this last massive cabin; to abscond into the woods for a while, until you’ve faded from everyone’s memory. You won’t return to this town for at least a year. You’ll spark recognition when you return, but not enough for anyone to consider you more than an outsider in their close-knit community. The kind woman who lets you work for her cleaning company so sporadically will remember you when you ring her, the only person particularly thrilled to hear you’re back for a few months.

You do an excellent job and you do it fast— you can thoroughly and perfectly clean a 6 bedroom mansion by yourself in less than 10 hours and you were paid under the table so you didn’t require overtime, which Mrs. Hunt loved (there was no tax to be taken from an unreported cash payment though, so it was a fair trade in your opinion). You would work yourself to the bone, 10 hours a day everyday there was work available for at least three months and then dip without any expectations until the next time you returned, when she was gushing over the amazing reviews your work had gotten the last time you were around.

It was symbiotic existence—you were paid well for your efforts, more than enough to sustain living out of your car for months at a time, and your performance drove her online reviews into the 4.9 stars range and made it feasible for her to raise her prices. Mrs. Hunt didn’t ask any questions either, even when you requested to only work alone and couldn’t provide any identification beyond a driver’s license.

You were finishing up the kitchen in what was definitely one of the nicest places you’d ever cleaned when your phone went off in your back pocket. It made your skin prickle. Very few people had your number and you couldn’t think of a single reason they’d ring you instead of texting unless something was wrong.  You propped the mop against your shoulder and dug out the phone, frowning at Mrs. Hunt’s name on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Oh sweetie, I’m so glad I got a hold of you! How are you doing?”

“I’m well, Mrs. Hunt,” you answered, your voice coming out semi-robotically as you strained not to sound panicked while continuing the conversation like a normal fucking person, “I’m just about done here, I was finishing the dry mop in the kitchen when you called and then all I need to do is pack up.”

“Oh perfect! I was calling because the owner just rang me, apparently some of his packmates will be arriving a bit earlier than anticipated—potentially within the next hour. Something about someone getting caught up at work, I’ll spare you the details. But if you’re almost done then you’ll probably be gone by the time they arrive.”

“Certainly Mrs. Hunt,” you’d immediately started frantically dry mopping the moment the words ‘within the next hour’ escaped the woman’s mouth, phone clamped between your ear and shoulder. “I’ll be gone in the next few minutes.”

“Now even if you aren’t its okay,” the concern in her voice meant that your own had betrayed you, waivered when you responded without your knowledge. “I always warn the owners that if they arrive before the scheduled time that there’s a possibility the house won’t be done and/or there might be people actively working in the house. You won’t get in any trouble, okay?”

“R-Right, thank you ma’am,” you swallowed heavily, finishing the last swipe across the tile in the kitchen and hustling back into the foyer. “I really won’t be but a minute though. I always keep all of my equipment put away and together if I’m not using it, so I really just need to pack up the mop.”

Which you’d already shoved into the rolling cart you picked up each morning that held all of your cleaning supplies provided by the company.

“Don’t forget your bucket too!” Mrs. Hunt sounded smiley again, “I’ll leave the key under the mat so you can stow your cart tonight. Have a good one swee—.”

“You too!” You might’ve hung up a touch too soon to be considered polite, shoving the phone back into your pocket and running into the kitchen. There was no time to dwell on manners. 

The mop bucket was sitting on the counter, already washed and dried and waiting to be put away. You’d started keeping your things completely put away at all times the same day you’d been accosted by a homeowner who arrived home earlier than expected while you were still trying to pack up. You’d tried to put your notice in that night, a couple of years ago now, but Mrs. Hunt begged you not to—promised it would never happen again. This must’ve been her best attempt at preventing it. At least you had already planned to leave town tonight anyway.

You nearly sprinted back to the cart, haphazardly tossing the stupid bucket on top and wheeling it towards the huge front doors. You’d just stopped to reach around and grab the handle when the knob turned and the left door was pushed open, nearly hitting your cart.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he was a beta, curly haired and dark eyed with pale skin, wearing a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Did I knock anything over?”

“N-No, sir,” you pulled the cart back a few steps, nearly trembling with the effort it took not to blast right past him, especially when you noticed him carefully scenting the air. "The house is all clean, I was j-just leaving.”

“Thank you, for getting everything clean for us. We don’t get to come out here as often as we like, I’m sure the place collected a lot of dust in our absence,” he smiled, looking both parts shy and calculating to your well trained eye— and you had no time for such consideration.

“Not too much, h-have a nice night!” You could feel your pulse racing and that was bad. Even the good suppressants, the ones that most of your money went to, had difficulty completely masking the scent of panicking omega.

“Did you use bleach?” The question caught you off guard and you almost jumped when he put a hand on your cart, glancing through the array of chemicals.

“Y-Yes, in the bathrooms. I wasn’t informed of any sensitivities—”

“Nothing a little fresh air won’t take care of,” you wanted him to stop looking at you like that, like there was some pale flash of recognition behind his eyes. “Would you go open the windows in the bathrooms upstairs? I’m afraid my nose is pretty sensitive, several of my packmates are similar.”

You did not like that his nose was especially sensitive and you hated that his packmates were similarly afflicted. It felt like getting punched in the face with a fight or flight instinct, your brain immediately demanded that you leave the cart and run past him—fuck the cart, fuck the job, you could find something else.

“Oh, and do you have the key to the front doors? I might as well get them from you now instead of us having to go down to the office tomorrow.” Your hand immediately dove into your pocket, yanking out the single key and dropping it in his palm. “Thanks— and the windows? Sorry, I just can’t go up there until it’s aired out.”

He wasn’t a huge man but the way he filled the doorway made you second guess trying to run past him, even if he was greying at the temples and looking a little rumpled. It was strange, you wouldn’t usually have such an intense reaction to a beta, but something about him was vaguely unsettling. So instead of trying to make a run for it, you turned on your heel and forced yourself to calmly walk up the stairs. There were four massive bedrooms in the cabin, each with its own bathroom and you’d need to go through and open the windows for the three bathrooms that had them. It meant darting into huge bedrooms, dodging expensive furniture and knickknacks and trying not to dirty the freshly mopped and swept hardwood floors in the process.

It took about five minutes but you felt like you’d run a marathon, your heart was pounding and there was sweat at the nape of your neck. All you wanted was out of the stupid fucking house, immediately. You dashed down the stairs and turned the corner, seeing your cart right where you left it. The door was still open too, but the beta was no where to be seen. You immediately darted forward, grabbing the cart tightly and beginning to push it past the threshold—

You were stopped in your tracks at the sight of two unnecessarily broad alphas. Both were tall, the white man standing just an inch or so taller, with a full beard and blond hair. The black alpha had facial hair too, a cleanly edged goatee to match a faded cut. Both were incredibly attractive and putting off waves of pheromones, to the point that your head floated for a moment.  Your lips clamped shut on a whine, instinct trying to push through and alert the two powerful alphas of your presence. Instead you ducked your head and continued out the door.

“Hi there, sweetheart.” Your gaze snapped up, immediately locking with a pair of dark brown eyes. “You the housekeeper?”

“Yes sir,” you answered quietly, stopping short in front of them when neither moved out of your way. “Sorry to have been here so late. Have a good evening.”

Both were still smiling, still pointedly not moving.

“My name’s Steve, that’s Sam,” the blond’s nose twitched, just slightly, and you realized he was very discretely scenting the air. “Nice to meet you. Do you live in town?”

“N-No, please excuse me,” you nudged the cart forward just an inch but they still didn’t budge and panic began coursing through your blood with renewed vigor, “excuse m—”

“Your scent is… confusing,” Steve’s head tilted to the side, “I don’t mean to be crass, of course, but I couldn’t help but notice.”

“It’s always been this way,” the response was automatic and your brain began shutting down all unnecessary functions; you were about to have to run and hope your omega physiology would make you faster than them.

“You smell almost like an omega,” he continued, both hands coming to rest on his hips, emphasizing the width of his shoulders. “But not quite?”

“I’m a beta.”

“Are you sweetheart?” Sam’s voice was a rumble, his head tilted to the side while his dark eyes burned holes into your skin.

The tone an alpha used with naughty omegas was deliberate and tightly controlled, the same as a command or a purr or a growl. It was on purpose, an attempt to nicely draw out the correct response. He wanted you to admit you were an omega, to tell them the truth of your own volition. The fact that your hindbrain desperately wanted to comply was a completely different issue—one you didn’t have time to address right now.

“Positive,” you breathed, clenching your fists tightly around the handles of the cart for just a second before deciding to leave it behind; you’d never be coming back here, there was no reason to worry about preserving your job.

Your eyes were quick and indefinitely perceptive. Being an omega was one step up from being a prey species, it came with inherent instincts that made you especially good at predicting behaviors. After all, an omega was only as good as their ability to please and soothe packmates. One of the single upsides to being an omega was that you were fast though—fast enough to outrun most alphas. And you only needed to go about a hundred and fifty feet, once you were in your car you could certainly get away. So the second you realized the pair was about to shift, moving to face each other more than you, you darted around the cart and dodged to the left.

It wasn’t your fault, honestly. There was no way you could’ve known you weren’t dealing with normal alphas. The blond was so fast that he almost moved between blinks—one moment he was still, the next he’d wrapped his arms around you and tugged you back into his chest. His arms were like steel, one wrapped around your torso to keep your arms pinned to your sides while the other carefully held your chin. Your hindbrain was screaming now, submit, submit, make alpha happy and you bit down on your tongue to hold in the whimpers, the omega sounds your throat was trying to produce.

“Shhh, shh, calm down,” it was half a tone away from being a purr and you continued to squirm while you still could—an alpha command was coming, you could feel it in your bones.

“Let Steve smell you,” Sam was rumbling instead of talking again, a similar half purr to how Steve had started speaking. "Everything’s okay, omega.”

You felt a nose nudge down your neck, towards your scent gland and you bared your teeth at the man in front of you. “I’m not an omega!”

“You smell like omega,” Steve’s breath ghosted over your skin and you fought a shiver. "Sort of. It’s buried, under… beta… sour beta?”

“What sort of suppressants are you on, sweetie?” You startled as the beta from earlier emerged from the house, wiping his hands on a dish towel absently. "Are you cutting them with anything? Heroin, or coke? It’s okay, you just need to tell me.”

“Tell Bruce sweetheart,” Sam coaxed, automatically moving to roll up the sleeves of your shirt, evidently looking for track marks. "Where do you get them?”

“I’m not on suppressants!” Your voice was almost a shriek at this point, desperately imitating the behavior of an angry beta rather than a terrified omega. “I’m a beta! Get off of me!”

“Okay, okay, here then,” Steve’s arm around your torso tightened, the one on your chin beginning to work its way down towards your jeans. "There’s only way one to tell for sure.”

Shock and fear and humiliation; an array of emotions swarmed through your body as his hand popped the button but those were the three you could identify and you immediately started thrashing your legs—he was going to check if you had an omega ridge and then everything would be over. It was a defining physical characteristic that couldn’t be passed off as anything other than what it was: a boney protrusion meant to catch on an alpha’s knot so they could be locked in place. In females it was found in the vagina, prominently featured directly before the g-spot so a knot would cause persisting pleasure. For males it was similarly positioned next to the prostate.

“Calm down, calm down!” Sam crooned, hands coming up to cup your face as while Steve’s slithered down the front of your jeans and into your panties. "It’s okay sweetheart, no matter what. Whatever Steve finds, you’re okay. You’re safe. We’ll keep you safe.”

The thrashing was doing nothing but tiring you out, you’d already been intensively cleaning for the past 9 hours without a break and it certainly wasn’t dissuading the hand slithering between your folds. You bit down on your tongue harder, until you drew blood to prevent the whimpers—you couldn’t make that stupid sound, you’d never make that stupid, pathetic, whiney noise, you couldn’t. Not even when a long, thick finger penetrated and sunk knuckle deep. Not even when the pad of said finger brushed your g-spot before hooking onto the ridge, tugging gently in a way that would’ve caused blinding pleasure had you not grounded yourself with the pain of biting your tongue.

“There it is,” Steve’s voice was soft, finger carefully running the length of the ridge. "A nice deep one too.”

“How long have you been taking suppressants?” Bruce prodded quietly, coming to stand next to Sam. “I need to know what sort of damage we’re looking at.”

When you didn’t respond Sam sighed, fingers brushing gently over your chin as he directed you to face him. "Please don’t make us use an alpha command, sweetheart. We just wanna take care of you. Tell Bruce how long you’ve been on suppressants, please.”

You regarded the handsome alpha for several short moments before spitting a mouthful of blood directly into his face.

 content warnings: assault, noncon vaginal fingering

edited 7/9/21 - still on hiatus

[ronsenburg]

Hi! I wanted to ask you something about Klapollo. What topic/argument do you think could possibly cause them to break up or take a break from the relationship? I live for the drama and was thinking about maybe writing a fic but like I dont want to make either of them assholes, like Apollo bringing Kristoph up to hurt Klavier, for example. I don't think he would do that but I struggle to come up with something else.

Oh boy, I hope you’re not upset about this, but I wrote you an essay. I’m sorry.

Overall, I really like the klapollo relationship timeline because, compared to, say, narumi/su they have a much more normal, organic story. They meet, flirt, share a mutual trauma, get together! Totally normal! But I also think that they would have a much harder time than narumi/su finding the balance you need in a serious relationship and I can see them calling it quits for perfectly practical reasons that aren’t really anything to do with one being a jerk, you know? Here are my top things that I think they would have to navigate and maybe struggle with before a real happily ever after:

1. Money. You’ve probably seen my post where I talk about Apollo feeling uncomfortable with displays of affluence. I don’t think that this is an easy one to get past. AA6 Spoilers, but Dhurke and Datz literally raised them in hiding on the run in the mountainous jungles of Khura’in. They sent Apollo to the states as a nine year old. We don’t know what he did when he got here, but my money’s always been on the foster system. That doesn’t typically breed a sense of stability, financial or otherwise. 

From my experience (so take it with a grain of salt), children who grow up with very little tend to behave in one of two ways when they reach financial stability and/or achieve wealth: first option, they’re really bad with it. They spend it nearly as fast as they make it on things they didn’t get to have or experience when they were growing up. Second option, they never spend it. They know what it’s like to be without, so they save as much of it as they can so they have the security of knowing, if something happens, they won’t have to go back to the way it was before. I will always put Apollo in the latter category. He works hard for what he has and what he gets and, I think, things that signify extravagance make him uncomfortable. On the other hand, I think that the Gavin’s have always had some sort of wealth. Klavier and Kristoph have very different aesthetics to their spaces that we get to experience (Klavier’s office and Kristoph’s cell) but they’re both pretty lavish. Now, we can assume they each made their money individually in their respective careers but, honestly, Kristoph’s cell is so gaudy. To me, it screams “this is what I’m used to and I refuse to accept any less” which is an attitude that I feel comes more from a lifetime of that treatment. 

So if we accept everything that I’ve said above as true, trying to put a person who saves every penny they get and feels bad treating themselves with a person who spends money freely because it’s been a constant throughout their life? It can go poorly. Casually dating, maybe it’s not such an issue once Apollo says “please no more presents and can we just get takeout for once?” but if you’re talking about something more serious, where you have to live in the same space and pay joint bills and be confronted with the other person’s spending habits constantly, it’s a whole other thing. Please take it from me as a person in a long term relationship who loves their partner tremendously—everyone fights about money. Everyone. It would be very difficult for Apollo to feel comfortable, even if he knew that finances were in good shape and there was savings, etc. Things happen, people leave. Nothing gold can stay. Changing that line of thinking takes work. It would also be easier said than done for Klavier to just do an about face on his own habits for Apollo’s comfort. Being a celebrity makes money, but it costs money, too. There is a certain amount of lushness that people expect. That can’t just go away. These are things that become bigger problems overtime, no matter how much you love each other. 

Anyway, I would be really surprised if—even if you’re writing them as really happily married—Apollo doesn’t have a ‘emergency fund’ that even Klavier doesn’t know about. It’s a ‘just in case’. Just in case Klavier leaves him. Just in case he needs to get away fast. Just in case the world ends. It’s not a logical thing, something that he sat down and rationalized doing, it’s just there because it feels better to have it than to not. But that can be kind of hurtful if the other person finds out about it, so. There you go, a whole minefield of money related drama.

2. Apollo’s Abandonment Issues. He’s got them! What do you call and orphan twice over who also lost his very best friend? I don’t know, but if capcom doesn’t stop picking on my boy I’m going to kick them in the teeth. I will still never get over AA6 for telling us that Dhurke took Apollo in when he was orphaned as a baby, then abandoned him in the USA, then came back for him and got his hopes up, and then was actually dead the whole time! Hahahaha! What a trip! 

Anyway, you don’t come back from that super easy. People who suffer this kind of trauma usually have a really hard time trusting others, which is understandable. They also can have unrealistic needs from their partners, become codependent, or even just self-sabotage their relationships, pulling away first to try and avoid the pain because they think the other person will leave them. I think that last one is most likely for Apollo, especially given the disparity in circumstances I mentioned above. If Apollo can’t trust that Klavier actually loves him, can’t trust that he won’t leave him like EVERYONE ELSE HAS, then they can’t have a healthy relationship. Drama.

3. Klavier’s Emotional Trauma. Kristoph is a pretty big jerk to Klavier in the last case of AA4. He criticizes and undermines Klavier, threatens and admits to manipulating him. In the anthology, Klavier shares an “lol so funny!” story about Kristoph accidentally breaking a window while he and Klavier are playing ball. In it, he convinces Klavier that it was his fault and that he should take the blame and apologize for breaking the window! And Klavier does! That’s gaslighting, baby, and since the Anthology is supposed to be canon, we can take that to mean it’s been happening since Klavier was a kid. Think about that. An entire life of gaslighting and manipulative behavior! You don’t come back from that easily, either. 

People who experience emotional abuse can, among other things, suffer from depression and low-self esteem. They need affirmation from their partners and can have a hard time with letting people in or being honest (though not from a malicious mindset—more a “I’m going to say what I think you want to hear because if you’re happy, bad things won’t happen!”). They can also always be waiting for the other shoe to drop, so to speak. Sure things are good, but when will that end and the bad time start? It’s a self fulfilling prophecy: if all you can do is worry about things going wrong, then you aren’t actually enjoying when things are going right and you will cause the issues you’re so worried about. Drama.

4. Fame. Klavier has been in the spotlight since he was a literal child. If the Gavinners were already hits when Klavier was 17, they likely formed and starred their rise some time before then. A year, maybe two? Klavier spent his formative years in the spotlight. He quite literally doesn’t know any other way. Apollo, on the other hand, has never experienced the kind of scrutiny he’d be subject to when dating someone like Klavier. It can be really stressful and hurtful and just overall not a good time. And I’m not saying that Klavier wouldn’t be sympathetic, but I don’t think he would really understand how difficult it could be to have been thrust into that position out of nowhere, because he’s had years of dealing with it and was in a completely different place in life when it began for him. It’s not unreasonable to think that Apollo might not be able to take it. You can love someone and want to be with them but if you can’t adapt to their lifestyle, it’s not going to work. They could walk away rather than risk what might happen to Apollo if they kept it up. Drama.

5. Careers. They both have very demanding jobs. While sharing a similar profession can mean there’s a mutual understanding, it can also cause issues if you... never get to see each other? Schedules can be out of alignment (which could easily happen; their cases can’t always line up and they seem to require a lot of time investment outside of just normal hours). If Klavier goes back into music, that’s an additional time constraint. Why be in a relationship when you can only see the other person for moments here and there? What about the stress that comes with those jobs? That can cause drama.

6. Klavier looks like Kristoph. They are very different people, yes, but similar enough in some ways that it could cause tension. Maybe Klavier is tired and stressed and snaps at Apollo, and suddenly, all Apollo can see is Kristoph and all he can feel is the uncomfortable churning in his stomach that goes along with the memories of him. Someone he trusted, someone who let him down. That’s a difficult subject to broach, and it can fester like an infected wound if left intended. 

But Apollo sounds like Kristoph sometimes. We saw it in AA5, which is, of course, an extreme circumstance. But it can come out from time to time in other ways. A phrase that slips out, the way he intones certain words, the way he signs off in his emails—little things that are harmless, but can still act as triggers. 

Sometimes you need to get away from things that can remind you of your past in order to work on getting over them. If you are in love with someone who shares a similar trauma, who brings those issues from the past to light frequently just by being themselves, it might not be a healthy situation. I don’t think they would need to throw it in each other’s faces for it to become an issue. Drama.

There are more, but I probably took this more seriously than you intended. Whoops! Anyway, I hope that helps??? Maybe???? I hope you get them back together in the end because they deserve to be happy though!!!!!!!

[darktypeimagines]

May I request scenarios of Raihan, Kabu, Nessa, and Leon's reactions(seperate) of their S/O harboring a Pokemon that isn't allowed within Galar borders.

Four characters is a bit much for full, separate scenarios. I’m added a character limit to the rules.  But, I chose two of the characters I thought I could do best.  Hope you like it anyway.  Feel free to send in the other characters if you really want to see them, and I’ll get to it when I have time.

——————————————————————————————–

Kabu

Understands well how you feel.  His Torkoal, which he bought from Hoenn, took half a year to get it approved to come!  And that was on the short end of the typical wait time.

And Kabu waited until Torkoal was approved before coming over.  He wasn’t going to let border restrictions separate him from the Pokemon he loved, after all

He understood why the rules were in place.  Other regions, like Alola, had pretty serious issues with foreign Pokemon destroying the ecosystem.  Galar had a pristine countryside, and efforts should be made to keep it like that. But there had to be a better way, right?

You two were taking a long flying taxi ride over Galar. You had plenty of time on your hands, so you ended up talking about all manner of things.

When he started telling you stories about coming over from Hoenn, including trying to get Torkoal cleared for legal crossing, and you took the opportunity to confess your crime to him.

It was a bit of an emotional moment, as the secret was eating you up for a while.  He comforts you, pulling you in to lean against his shoulder as you spoke.  Rubs your back with one hand to calm you down.

It was clear that something needed to be done.  Either you were going to get caught, or this would continue to worry you.

So, you both look into legal ways to bring foreign Pokemon into the country.  Kabu managed it a while ago, but since it’s been so long, he wanted to make sure the regulations hadn’t changed.

And, oh boy, they changed.  A lot. Stricter than when he bought Torkoal. But, not impossible to work with. It would just take time.  And a ton of paperwork.  And money.

It was not uncommon for both of you to get incredibly frustrated dealing with all the obstacles, hoops to jump through, and delays in trying to get this settled. Fortunately, Kabu was made for endurance, whether it be physical or mental.  When you felt you were at your limit, he was always able to encourage you to not give up.  A few times, he always kept going just for you, handling things when you could not. He knew he would have needed support had things been this hard when he immigrated, so he wants to be there for you.

But, in time, with his help, you had your Pokemon with you legally in the country, and with that, your burden was lifted.

Raihan

Honestly… he thinks that is freaking sick.  You snuck a Pokemon over the border because you couldn’t bear to be separated?  You know how big the fines are, right?  In some extreme cases, you could even be jailed!

Yes, and that terrifies you.

Even better. The fact that you risked so much for someone you love is amazing, and he’s gained a lot of respect for you.

Buuuuut… Now you both had a problem.  You broke the law.  And now that he knows, and isn’t going to do anything (of course) he could get in trouble if he helps you.

Luckily, he doesn’t care for those laws; a lot of the Pokemon that are banned don’t even make much sense as to why they aren’t allowed!  And, it feels like they’re just making it harder and harder for people to bring in their Pokemon (basically their family) into the country for reasons that are more political than reasonable.

So, he offers to help in any way he can.  You risked so much for your Pokemon that you loved.  It inspired him, and since he cared so much for you, it only made sense to him to take a risk for you, too.

You know what’s cool about Hammerlocke stadium?  It’s connected to the castle, which is a maze of hidden passages, rooms with history, and ancient secrets. Traditionally, the castle was under control of the royal family.  But since the royal family isn’t exactly around anymore, in modern times, the leader of the Hammerlocke gym took care of the castle.

So, that means Raihan has plenty of hiding places at his disposal.  All of which were in pristine condition and fit for a king (literally).

That’s how your Pokemon came to live in the throne room of Hammerlocke castle. No one else has access to it; individuals, whether they be researchers or anyone else, would have to ask Raihan for permission to enter.  Which he still gave out while your Pokemon were there, but it gave you two time to clean things up and take the Pokemon out before they came.

The throne room looked more like a Pokemon play room.  Toys were strewn about everywhere, several bowls of different foods were also available, and anything else the Pokemon could ever want was there, too.

You and Raihan’s biggest concern was the Pokemon’s happiness.  You couldn’t exactly take them out and about.  So, you wanted to make their environment was as stimulating as possible. But, even with all of the luxuries, both of you knew it wasn’t ideal.

With the Pokemon’s welfare in mind, Raihan made use of his influence to raise awareness about the issues of the bans.  Within months, it became a hot button issue and was frequently raised on news programs and talk shows.

Eventually, officials announced they would be introducing a program that citizens of Galar could enroll in to bring over “banned” Pokemon.  It would take an extensive background check (ugh), frequent checkups and monitoring (bleh), breeding restrictions (ick) and more.  But at least it was a step in the right direction.

And with that, you were eventually able to enroll in the program and get your Pokemon in legally.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #425

“evolution repressed by our backwards contest  /  breeding our torrential demise as we come to this edge”

Serious question, peanut butter or nutella? I think Nutella is a godsend, but I use peanut butter waaaaay more often. We don't even really buy Nutella because I will destroy the jar. Do you prefer baked potatoes or mashed potatoes? Baked. What is your oldest sibling’s middle name? Kathryn. I think. Do you like breadsticks? I just like bread, man. What are your favorite things to spend money on? Tattoos, uuuuugggghhhhh <3 Which would you rather have a new puppy or kitten? Neither, really. Most puppies drive me insane (even though they're cute as everliving fuck), and I don't want another cat. Mom actually talked about getting another, but I really just want my one boy. Roman would get SO jealous, anyway. I enjoy just having my baby. How old will you be on your next birthday? 26. Yikes. Do you ever feel self-conscious when you eat around other people? As "the fat one," I can be sometimes. I would say though that more often than not, it's sort of whatever to me because I'm a human that has to eat. When you opened your eyes this morning, what were your first thoughts? I thought I slept way later than I actually did. What is one thing in the room you’re in that reminds you of somebody? My stuffed meerkat Rebel. Jason got it for me for my first birthday that we were together. Could you ever be friends with somebody who was homophobic? Never again. I was once able to think "agree to disagree," but sometimes by doing so, you're siding with evil by not enforcing what is more than just a belief. It should come with being a human. Also given my own sexuality, it would be a slap in the face to me. Would you ever want to be a supermodel, or date one? Hell no. I'd date one though, if they were modest about their position. Honestly, have you ever made fun of somebody so bad they cried? Wow, no. Honestly, would you rather be complimented on your looks or intelligence? Quite frankly, nowadays, my appearance. I need it. My self-confidence is so far below "shit." Have you ever purchased a pregnancy test, for yourself or otherwise? Nope. You can get one thing, anything, for free right now. What do you pick? Why? Hm. I know I talk about it a lot, but it would still probably be a 40 gallon terrarium for Venus. She needs - and deserves - it. Honestly, have you ever danced naked? NOOOOOOOO. What was the first illegal thing that you did? Did you get caught? Downloaded music. My mom eventually found out, but didn't care much. What is the home page on the computer you’re on? Google. Do you like to write poetry? I do, but I haven't done it in a while. :/ Are your ears pierced? Yes. If so, were they pierced with a piercing gun, or with a sterile needle? Piercing gun. Which, by the way, do not do. There are many more risks with a piercing gun versus a needle by a professional. Do you wear makeup regularly? I never do. Did you eat cereal for breakfast today? No. I've been on a bagel kick lately. When was the last time you tripped over something? Last night, actually. The rug in the living room was slightly turned up, and I tripped in the dark. I didn't actually fall, thankfully. Any obsessive-compulsive tendencies? I'm diagnosed with OCD. I experience more ruminations and intrusive thoughts more than obsessive behaviors, though. Who was the last person you yelled at? Probably Mom. Why did you yell at them? I don't remember. Favorite type of apple? I like pink lady apples. I really enjoy any, so long as they're crisp. Ever seen live horse racing? No. To be totally honest, I don't really like the concept of it. Motivating a horse to run by hurting it doesn't exactly seem moral... How about live greyhound racing? No. What’s one thing, besides the obvious, that you couldn’t live without? The Internet, haha. Have you ever touched a giraffe? No. What does your mom call you? Britt. What stresses you out the most in life? I really don't think I could pick a top one. There are so many. Do you play any PC games? What is your favorite? Yeah. Y'all probably know WoW is my favorite. If you were pregnant, how would you tell the father? Well, that would depend on the circumstances. Did we want a baby? Was it a bad surprise, a happy surprise? I can't answer this with just one idea. What’s the hardest level you can play on Guitar Hero? I used to be able to slam out Expert easily with only very few songs I had to play on Hard, but now it's been YEARS. I've played less than once in a blue moon, and my skill's definitely faded some. It really depends on the song. What ever happened with you and your first boyfriend? He couldn't handle my depression anymore. What’s your favorite country song? "When The Stars Go Blue" by Tim McGraw, probably. What is the worst thing a former boyfriend/girlfriend has done to you? Fail to communicate what he was feeling with me and then make a dashing break for it very, very abruptly after three and a half years. It put me past a state of shock, but trauma with how no less than obsessed I was with him. What were you for Halloween last year? I didn't dress up. :/ I wish I had the money and motivation alike to. Are you feeling guilty for something? I always will. Are you usually quiet or loud? Quiet. How many hours do you spend on the computer a day? Like... uh... all of them, oof. What is the show that you watched when you were little, and you still do? Meerkat Manor. Do your siblings text you? Not really. Do you want a small or big wedding? Small. Have you ever searched for your own house on Google Earth? Not the house I currently live in, but I have before. Who is your ex dating/talking to? I don't know. Ever kissed someone who smokes? No. Does it take a lot for someone to annoy you? Frankly, no. Do you own your own computer? This laptop, anyway. Did you ever have to share a room with one of your siblings? Yes, with my younger sister as a kid and pre-teen. What noises in the room you’re in, do you hear at the moment? I hear the video I'm watching, as well as my fan. Have you ever dated someone with longer hair than yours? Yes. What’s the biggest upcoming event for you? Nothing. Not like that's a surprise. What do you typically order from Wendy’s? Son of the Baconator. @_@ Have you ever been given a lapdance by an actual stripper? No. Those are so awkward to me. What do you love most about yourself? I don't know these days. Have you ever received a hickey from the last person you kissed? No. What are you doing right now? This survey and re-watching John Wolfe play Outlast 2. What’s bothering you right now? I'm immensely nervous about tomorrow. I have my first (and I pray the fuck to God not only) session with my new personal trainer then, and I'm terrified by how my body and my mental fortitude is going to react. Y'all have no fucking idea JUST how out of shape I am, and the muscles in my legs seem basically non-existent by now. I have to do something about my health, though, and I'm determined to make this shit work. More than determined. I know the first day is going to be hard, but I need to do this more than I can explain. What was the last thing you drank? ... What great fucking timing, I have a can of Mountain Dew, lol... That's another thing that needs to change. I've gotta stop the emotional and boredom-eating and chill the fuck out with soda. Be honest, do you like people in general? Quite frankly, no. There are plenty of people I love and think are amazing, of course, but I think I lean towards humanity being too shitty to like "in general." Do you want your tongue pierced? I miss my snake eyes. :/ That was suuuuch a cute piercing. I just had to take it out for the safety of my teeth. I kept accidentally clamping down on one of the balls when eating, and it would cause tiny fractures. Do you change your phone background a lot? No. Have you ever made someone so mad that they broke something? No. Have you ever been strip searched? No. Do you have a funny last name? Does anyone make fun of it? It's not funny-sounding, no, I just think it's too manly for me to enjoy as part of my name. Ever have a drug overdose? What did you OD on exactly? Yes. Oddly enough, I don't remember what I OD'd on now... You'd think I would, given how extreme the situation was. It was some cold medicine. Do you get sick of people who call themselves bipolar all the time? I absolutely do. It's extremely insensitive to people like myself who legitimately suffer - and I do mean "suffer" - from the disorder. Describe your day so far in three words: Dull. Lazy. Anxious. What was the most stressful project you had so far/while in school? Probably my senior project and the presentation I had to do for it. I taught about the fallacies and misconceptions of snakes, and I made a PowerPoint and some drawings to color and crosswords for the special ed children. I was so, so very nervous, but I got through it fine and the kids seemed to enjoy it. I actually still have the recording. Choose one- Butterfinger, Milky Way, Snickers: MILKY WAY. FUCK I love those. Have you ever stepped in dog poop? UGH yes. What was the last thing you spent money on? My niece's birthday present. Have you ever slept in the same bed with the last person you kissed? Yeah. Is there a guy that knows a lot about you? I almost said "yes," but then I realized he doesn't know me at all anymore. I've changed so much, hopefully mostly for the better. He hasn't "known" me in many years. Is there someone you just can’t imagine your life without? It's terrifying to imagine my life without Mom; Sara, too. Do you prefer Starbucks coffee or small cafe coffee? I prefer no coffee. Would you ever consider getting a piercing in your septum? Nah. Do you enjoy being outdoors? If it's cool outside and I have somewhere to sit that's not the ground, yes. Do people tell you that you have an accent? Sometimes. Do you enjoy watching fireworks on the 4th of July? They're pretty, but I don't support their usage by this point in my life. They're a fire hazard, triggering to some vets with PTSD, and beyond terrifying for animals. What’re some unspeakable subjects for you? I get most heated about child molestation. You do not fucking touch a child like that. I don't even write any of my bajillion evil guys committing it in RP because I just can't stomach it. Even when my little sister (a children's social worker) is telling Mom about some stuff she sees at work, I have to not be present, 'cuz that shit isn't rare. It's nauseating. Is there anyone you would take a bullet for? A good number of people, honestly. Do you enjoy tanning? Hell no, I avoid the sun and heat at like all costs. Are you a virgin? This is going to sound weird, but I actually don't know, but I lean towards no. Who’s your celebrity crush? mARK EDWARD FISCHFUCK Did or do you get good grades in English class? I was always excellent in English. What part of your body are you self-conscious about? My stomach. But I'm self-conscious about everything else, too. Are you expected to help fix Thanksgiving dinner? No. Everyone knows I can't cook worth a damn. Have you ever lost anyone close to cancer? Truly close, no. Unless you include pets, actually. Then a few. :/ Do you personally know anyone who is transgender? Yep. When was the last time you got a shot? Earlier this year for Covid. Get your fucking vaccine, btw. :^)

[twodogsoneguy]

Leashes:

Leashes are probably one of the most important tools you have for your dog when leaving the home, besides a good collar! A good leash is dependent on what you want to use it for, and what kind of dog walker you are. Leashes are very important, in most places you are not allowed to have your dog off leash at all in public, or only if they are well controlled by voice commands. I recommend keeping your dog on a leash no matter what; just because you trust them to play nicely doesn’t mean other dogs will.

Some things to start with: firstly, unless it's a picture I took of a product I own and love, I will not be posting to this blog about actual products because I currently am not affiliated with anyone or have affiliate links, nor do I plan to try and get rights to images I don’t own. If this changes in the future, I will be sure to update my info and let you guys know. Secondly, just so we don't get confused, leash or lead mean generally the same thing, they both refer to a long piece of material that you attach to a dog in order to keep it from straying. 

So first off is your standard flat leash, a six foot nylon(or other strong material) leash that is typically 1/2-2in in width. It's usually your cheapest option at the dog store, though you can splurge on really expensive pretty ones. These get you from point a to point b. They also come in four foot leads, which are useful for keeping your companion closer to you without having to wrap up the excess. These types of leashes are great when you’re just starting out or need something without frills. I definitely recommend having one or two of these hanging around your house; personally I like to use them when we’re going out for a fun trip or walk rather than work. A good basic leash will be strong enough to hold your dog and not break when they pull. For example, while a 1in lead may be too heavy for a toy breed like chihuahua, it may not stand up to the strength of a great dane. Typically, for most medium to large dogs a 1in width is enough. (For reference, the pineapple leash is a pretty one I haven’d used yet. The red and white on is a leash I bought for Harley when she was a baby. Its obviously well loved.)

My personal favorite type of leash is the waist or hands free style leash. These leashes usually have an adjustable portion that you can either wrap around your waist or body, leaving your hands free to do other things. I use these when I am out and about with Athena because it makes doing my errands easier. The drawback to these kinds of leashes is that they take some time to get used to. Rather than being able to go in many directions, these leashes often have a very short radius for your dog to walk around with. This means that you have to get used to working as a team while walking together because otherwise you may end up tangled up on the floor. A dog needs to understand directional cues from you in order to successfully work with one of these leads. This doesn’t mean you have to train them in things like “right” or “left’; they just need to be able to follow your directions and read your body to see where you plan to go. With some practice you will be able to use these in no time.

Leather leashes are long favored by the training community. They’re extremely durable when well taken care of; one of the pet parents I took a class with had one from her childhood that she used to train her first dog with. When you buy one new, it will take some time to break in, meaning that it may be very stiff or have some edges that can leave marks on your hands if you have a dog who likes to pull.  Leather is also a strong material, it will stand up to strong pullers unlike other types of leashes. I personally have never had the money to invest in a leather leash, though I have heard the exaltations of its proponents. 

Flexi leads/retractable leashes are my least favorite type of leash. Now, I am going to admit I am a little biased towards these, because oftentimes when I’ve encountered these in the wild they are attached to owners who don't control their dogs or read canine body language well. Retractable leashes have a hard plastic handle, which contains a cord that extends or retracts automatically based on tension from the dog. They often can be locked at a certain length. Pros of retractable leashes include that the plastic handle is often easier for people who have issues with gripping things and they allow the dog a greater range of freedom in the distance they can go. The leash cord itself is typically lightweight, making them easier to use with smaller breeds. One of the biggest considerations when choosing this type of leash is making sure that it is rated for your dog's full grown weight, otherwise you run the risk of it snapping and losing your dog. Personally, I don’t like taking that kind of risk with my dogs.. Another concern with this type of leash is that it doesn’t allow the handler nuanced control of their dog. This is a concern because whether or not that dog is well behaved, other dogs may not be and being able to rush into another dogs space can turn very bad very fast depending on how the other dog reacts.

Traffic leads are short leashes under four feet, usually around two or three. These leashes are short and sweet, and mean that you have your dog up and close to you all the time, which can be especially useful in urban environments. Traffic leads are often used by service dog handlers, because their short length means they can drop the lead on top of the dog when they need their hands and easily pick it back up again. Traffic leads, like waist leashes, require good teamwork between the dog and handler because you are right on top of each other. I have used a traffic lead in the past, however I found it wasn’t as useful as I hoped it would be as it was too restricting of Athena’s movements. 

Slip leads are a type of leash that uses a slipknot type loop that goes around the dogs neck. These are especially useful to those who have low mobility, and for picking up dogs running at large. Slip leads do not require a collar to use. A major drawback of the slip lead is because it works with a slipknot, it is very similar to a choke collar, meaning that it can tighten around your dogs neck a great deal and choke them or cause them to cough. However a dog who walks politely on a leash faces very little harm from a slip lead. I personally find that the benefits of slip leads outweigh their risks, because theres no way to get a collar on a dog running along a highway. I also like the convenience of a slip lead for quick trips to the drive thru because it means that I don’t have to clip and unclip the lead from my dog. You may also find these at your local vet clinic, as they are a way to easily leash a dog who may have come in without one.

Finally, the last type of leash I will talk about is the long line. A long line is a very long leash, usually over 10ft. These are used to help train a dog recall in a large open space like a park. I’ve used mine very little because I bought it just before last winter, and then the pandemic happened so its mostly spent its time hanging out in the leash pile, hence the poorly done daisy chain. Long lines are typically beneficial to people who are training working dogs in areas such as hunting or schutzhund.

Bonus round: Though not technically a leash, did you know you can get a seat belt for your dog? Doggy seat belts are similar to a short lead in length, and have a seat belt tongue(the metal part that goes into the buckle) and attachment point so that your dog is restrained. These need to be used in conjunction with a harness because using it with a collar can lead to injuries. Seat belts for dogs work wonders to keep a dog out of your hair and in the car, even when the windows are down. However, a caveat: according to Center for Pet Safety, who did tests on harnesses in car crashes, there are only certain ones that provide your dog with protection. Read more here.

To keep in mind: there are a lot of other considerations that go into choosing a leash. One of the big ones, do you need/want a padded handle? Many leashes made today have neoprene padded handles that reduce the amount of pull damage your hand takes, and are well worth it for the comfort. Reflective materials are also an important consideration, especially if you plan on doing a lot of walking during the dark hours in the early morning or winter evenings. They even make leashes now that light up at the press of a button. You may consider having several leashes for different occasions, I know I have close to a dozen now even though I only have two dogs. Anyways, that's it for this post! Let me know what you think in the replies/reblogs.

[heartslogos]

the declassified texts of the inquisition’s elite [102]

(786):  I think the heterosexuals across the hall are negotiating about breeding. How do I figure out which one is against it and back them up? - (202):  what are you up to? (1-202):  it's 8pm, i've already showered and gotten in bed. if you wanted to make plans u should have asked 3 months in advance -

“Stop being mean to the heterosexuals,” Dagna says. “Also stop calling them that. I mean. It’s true. But it’s just weird, it sounds like you’re talking about a zoo exhibit.”

“Isn’t that how they talk about us?” Sera asks. “Anyway, you think I could get someone to hook us up with some gear to eavesdrop? I think this argument is just getting its legs and we’re in for a heck of a night of free entertainment, babe.”

Dagna shakes her head fondly, “You’r just inviting someone to turn around and spy on us.”

Sera gestures around their apartment. “It’s the Inquisition Dagna. We live in an Inquisition building, with Inquisition members on all sides. We’re definitely being spied on constantly.”

“That’s disturbing.”

“That’s facts.”

“Why don’t you ask Leliana or someone in security to let you poke in then?”

“Because if I go that route that means I risk having someone poke on me that way. No, this shit’s gotta be off the Inquisition books.”

“You think they’d record you abusing resources?”

“I think they’d think it’s fair game and open season if I start it,” Sera replies. “It’s like…ethical something or whatever. That’s why it’s gotta be creative. Hey, one floor up across the hall to the — uh. Left? That’s Malika and Edric right? You think they’d let me borrow their balcony to spy?”

“What, exactly, are you going to do on their balcony?”

“We got rope. I’m excellent at parkour. I could get down there and listen.”

“Sera. You’re going to hang off the edge of a balcony and balance on — I don’t even know, window ledges? And you’re going to do that for how long to eavesdrop?”

“Well. If someone has a mike I can borrow then I’ll just leave that there and fetch it once everything’s done. I’d even share the bounty of my entertainment with whoever has the mike.”

Dagna sighs. “I have a spare mike. I don’t know how good the quality is because it’s been. Uh. Mishandled a few times.”

“Define mishandled.”

“Dropped.”

“From?”

Dagna grimaces, “Several stories up? It’s a little banged up but I mean. It turns on? I haven’t actually tried to use it since the fall.”

“Why did you even keep it?”

“Sera, do you even have to ask? I can’t just throw things away. That’s be reasonable of me. I have to keep them because of what-if situations like this one.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Sera nods. “Lemme see what I can do with that mike. I mean. It’s not like we don’t have a building full of tech-heads who could fix it anyway. Does this mean you’re in?”

“Color me curious,” Dagna replies. “Come on. Let’s get you your climbing gear. I’ll text Edric and Malika. At the very least Malika will want in on this for sure. She might actually have a better mike than we do, honestly. That kid’s recording set up is insane. I’d ask where she’s getting the money but at this point I think the bigger question is where she’s finding the time.” - “I don’t know if I’m surprised by that answer or not,” Max says, staring at his phone. “I mean. I guess I’m surprised Mahanon even answered me. But eight pm and in bed?”

“Damn, he’s got his life together if he requires a booking for conversation three months in advance,” Herah says, turning to Kaaras. “Aren’t you jealous of that kind of composure?”

“Someday I’ll have a stable night time routine,” Kaaras replies mournfully. “I think the part you should be surprised about is that he sounded amiable to making plans with you.”

“I grow on people. Very slowly. But I get there.” Max grins. “Alright. So Mahanon is out — alright wait. Now hold on. Eight pm? He shares a living space with his sister and the Iron Bull. Eight pm? No way is he sleeping.”

“He could just be watching videos on his phone or reading. The point is that he’s in bed and you aren’t moving him, I guess. It’s a way of saying he’s clocked out socially for the day.”

“I refuse to believe Mahanon has ever had a time card to punch in and out of, digitally of physically.”

“Metaphorically. Alright. So. Mahanon’s out. Anyone got Ellana?”

“Ellana’s not answering,” Kaaras replies before he starts to list people off. “Malika’s working on something for school. Edric’s doing something else I guess. Sera’s off base already. Dagna’s game and she’s on her way.”

“Very nice.” Herah nods. “I asked Blackwall but you know how he is. He never checks his personal phone, he’ll never answer. Point is I tried. Alright so. You, me, Max, Dagna. That’s a passable amount of people to play. Josephine’s in a meeting for another hour so she probably won’t be able to say yes or no until we’ve already started.”

“Oh, just got a text back from Leliana. She’s bringing Cassandra. Cullen’s at some kind of medical check up but he said after that’s done he’s game. Should we call for take out?”

“Let’s figure out how many people are showing up for impromptu game night first,” Herah says. “Alright so that’s up to around six. Eight, maybe, once things get rolling. Kaaras, did you ask Dorian?”

“I think he’s in the lab, the message hasn’t gone through. I was going to ask Dagna to check on him on her way.”

“Excellent. Alright. I’m texting the Chargers as a group. Wait — anyone have Cole?”

“I have Cole, he’s still typing his response. I’m a little scared about why he’s taking so long to type out an answer to what’s essentially a yes or a no question.”

“Let us know how that poetry slam goes when it’s done. We’ve got no one with any dietary restrictions right? Pizza should be good. Oh, shit, that’s Aclassi hold on.” Herah holds her phone up to her ear. “You bastards down or what?”

Max and Kaaras wait as Herah talks with Krem. Kaaras offers Max his phone with the food ordering app open. Max takes it and starts swiping across restaurant deals and free delivery options.

“Oh shit, what?” Herah exclaims and the two glance over at her before returning to examining their food options. “That’s crazy. Fuck yeah, bring that shit over. Oh, you found Ellana? She’s coming too? Nice. Alright. Half an hour? Cool.”

Herah grins. “Don’t order food.”

“Why?”

“The Chargers are on their way back to Skyhold after a mission, they picked Ellana up along the way, and apparently they stopped to help a buffet that was broken into and vandalized. The guy was so thankful that he gave them all his leftovers from the day. They’ve got the goods.”

[richiestoziers]

so emotional (chapter 11)

summary: eddie kaspbrak is crushing on the school’s radio host ‘records tozier’, it’s too bad they’ve never met

warnings: cursing, sexual tension, etc

read on ao3 here

eddie was on the moon, and everyone could see it. he felt like he was walking on a cloud, drifting through heaven with every breath he took. he now got that song, heaven is a place on earth, or at least it is now that he’s kissed richie tozier.

“what’s up with you?” stan asks one day, sitting across from him as the group went out for dinner.

“what do you mean?” eddie questioned, glaring at stan, a look that said ‘you know damn well what’s up, and i’ll tell you later.’

he’s starting to regret allowing stan to know, but in turn he somewhat knows his secret crush.

“nevermind.” stan smiles, mischievous, glad he knows.

“you guys are being weird” ben points out, wrapping pasta around his fork and eating some.

“no we’re not.” eddie and stan say in unison, both cursing themselves in their mind for seeming so suspicious. 

“weird.” bill mutters under his breath, laughing and elbowing eddie for it. “anyway, back to the conversation of stan getting his own car.”

“if you think i have the money to get my own car you’re crazy.” stan shot back, rolling his eyes and taking a drink from his water bottle.

“well if you stopped wasting your money on uber you could use that to save up for a car.” bill pointed back, and as eddie watched he started to see more of them together.

and he started to see more that stan was much better at hiding crushes than eddie.

“if i stopped using uber and waited who knows how long to get my own car, i would never have a way to get around.” stan spoke, an informal debate going on between the two.

“well i’ll just give you rides, stan. you know that.” bill’s voice was softer as he spoke, looking into stan, and hell even eddie felt the tension between the two.

“really?” stan questioned, looking up at bill with stars in his eyes and his heart on his sleeve.

eddie liked this, looking at a romance develop, it was almost as good as being in his own.

and looking at ben, who loved love so much and was so happy for all his friends, and not getting someone to love on his own.

eddie owed it to ben to help him with beverly, ben deserved that at least.

so he did that, pulled out his phone and began to text beverly.

hey, my friend ben needs some new clothes and i’m horrible at shopping. wanna help?

never did he think he’d feel so comfortable texting beverly marsh something like this, and yet here he was.

setting his phone aside as he awaited his reply he went back to the conversation with his friends.

“well thanks bill, it means a lot.” stan looked down, trying to hide his blushing cheeks underneath his curls.

“no problem, stan the man.” bill reached over and messed up stan’s hair as he said this, inevitably starting a fight with stan who always kept himself perfectly groomed, but eddie knew he secretly loved it.

eddie’s new favorite song is so emotional, whitney houston of course, because now that he continues to think back on it that was playing when richie kissed him at the party.

he feels ridiculous, over emotional, and maybe a bit psycho to go this far and inevitably listen to it on repeat and pretend that richie’s lips are on his once more.

he is crazy, he hates it, but he can’t stop thinking about it.

richie richie richie richie richie richie richie.

it’s all the runs through his mind since the kiss, more so than usual.

he feels so crazy, and delusional maybe, because a kiss in a frat party doesn’t mean a future and yet it means something and he can only be hopeful.

he was never very optimistic, but suddenly he’s found himself all sunshine and rainbows and ready for hope in the world.

maybe that’s what potential love does, or at least a damn good kiss.

he had a few hours to get to work, until then relaxing in his apartment alone until bill came back to give him a ride, and for once in his life not having any work to do. he was tied between sitting in bed and wistfully listening to the radio station, or watching tv.

hell, he knew what to do like the back of his hand, he had been obsessed with the radio station for two years and knew marsh and records wouldn’t begin speaking for another hour. it was just music right now, and he could get in an episode of a show before going to listen to two people he now considered friends.

or at least beverly was a friend, he had no idea what richie was to him, except that there was something.

sitting upon his shared couch with bill, usually filled with all his friends but alone to himself for once, and making it easy for him to watch whatever he wanted without a fight from his friends. failure to launch or pretty woman?

pretty woman.

playing the movie and risking missing some of their radio show to finish it, which he considered some self control on his part. a well needed break from his richie tozier addiction, one only heightened since he got a taste of his lips.

though his control wasn’t complete, because once the movie ended and the credits played, he jumped to his bed and turned the radio on, losing himself in the voice of the boy he was crazy for.

he woke up with a jolt, having dozed off after the show and still in his jeans with drool falling out of his mouth. he recoiled in disgust, rushing to the bathroom to clean himself and wash his hands, even his own saliva disgusting him. he was so busy getting clean he almost forgot what it was that woke him up, the loud ping from his phone and an awaiting text on the screen.

wiping his hands dry and clean he eyed his phone, following it like a moth to the light, confused as to who could be texting him at this time. it’s only when he sees the name he remembers the text he sent early to beverly.

yeah, wanna go this weekend?

perfect, things were going just as he planned. if he was going to be happy shouldn’t his friends be too? it’d be unfair for him to be the only one finally getting some attention from his unattainable crush.

see you then! 

life seemed so perfect, felt so perfect, the way richie’s lips felt perfect against his own. eddie was in heaven.

too bad he didn’t remember they weren’t official, they had only kissed once, but even just that tiny kiss was enough to blind him from the potential that things might not go how he expected.

only time would tell, but either way eddie kaspbrak wasn’t prepared for the future in the slightest, he was too busy living in his perfect present.

and just when he thought nothing could get better than this, that familiar ding of his phone getting a notification rang in his ear, fully shooting him into the sky. 

mind if i bring richie? 

he responded right away to beverly’s text, not even caring about seeming cool anymore.

not at all.

“hey ben,” eddie started his devious plan with positive intentions breeding through, planting the seeds to set everything up. “wanna go shopping with me this weekend? we both need some new clothes anyway, and richie and beverly are coming.”

he tried to make it sound nonchalant, like richie and beverly were the same as stan and bill, not the two people they had been crushing on since they first saw them walk by. it was nice to say it like that, making eddie think of a future where it is casual, where they are normal friends or maybe more. if this plan went the way he wanted, then they would be.

ben choked on the water eddie had given him, the liquid splashing on his face and falling to his shoes, and he rushed to get a towel as he wiped his face clean and coughed the rest. eddie tried to suppress a laugh, knowing he would have given the same reaction, but he couldn’t hold a chuckle back enough. 

“oh thanks, asshole.” ben teased, finally composing himself and shoving eddie for laughing at his misfortune.

this only made eddie laugh more, tiny tears falling out of his eyes and he quickly wiped them away and took a deep breath to calm down. “sorry, sorry, but it was funny. you gotta admit that,” he teased, giving an amiable smile to ben. “anyway, do you wanna go or not?”

eddie can see the apprehension radiating off ben, and he was more sympathetic for his plight that he himself has been through so many times than annoyed at him. ben looked down at his feet, like he was thinking it over but eddie could see the wave of insecurity flash over his eyes.

“i don’t know eddie, it might be weird?” he tries to give a reason why not to go out of nervousness, but they both know there’s no real reason that could work.

“oh come on, ben. it won’t be weird. i’ll be there, and beverly’s so nice, and you’ve already met. it’s going to be fine.” it was weird for eddie to be like this, but the world be damned if anyone got in the way of him seeing richie that night.

ben’s demeanor didn’t change even after eddie’s attempt at comforting words, and he continued to repeat “i don’t know.” to him.

“ben, i already told beverly you were going. you can’t back out, please. it’ll be fun.” eddie was never once to advocate for going outside ones comfort zone, but desperate times called for desperate measures. anyway, his most uncomfortable zones had to do more with germs than socializing. he can go shopping with them, he’d just make sure he had a mini hand sanitizer in his fanny pack.

“are you sure?” he questioned, but eddie could see he was finally getting through with him.

“yes, i’m sure, and if you hate it we can find some excuse to leave early.” eddie might have to do that himself, not fully sure how things would go with richie and him after their last interaction.

ben rubbed his face with his hands, hiding it behind them for a second before dragging them down with a huff. “fine, i’ll go.” 

eddie almost squealed with excitement, almost, but he kept his cool and just smiled at him. “it’ll be fun. trust me.”

the rest of the days leading up to saturday maintained his normal schedule; work and study. all he did was work and study, that’s all he’d done for so many years of his life, but this saturday would be a reprieve from the mundane routine of his life and hopefully further push him into a world where he felt fulfilled or like he was doing something to be remembered.

or at least he would get to hang out with his crush, which is something he never could’ve said before. he had requested the full day of saturday off, not wanting to feel rushed or have to ruin what he hoped would be a good day with rowdy customers and cleaning sticky tables. while he had gotten much better with his hypochondria, the idea still threatened to push him into a borderline panic attack.

him and ben were waiting at the mall food court for their more popular counterparts, both of them twiddling their hands with nervous jitters, trying to find something to do as a distraction. they could barely even talk to each other, so busy being in their own heads to talk about their same feelings to each other.

finally they spotted them, both their postures immediately straightening as their eyes were drawn to the bright red hair like a flame that stood out amongst the crowd. eddie quickly looked to the right of her, being drawn to the boy who towered over her, black curls unruly and unkempt, and begging for eddie to touch them.

the two pairs waved at each other as they drew near, eddie and ben much more uncomfortable as richie and bev moved with ease, seemingly not a thought in their head. if anything this made the two more nervous, and while they both tried not to show it on their face, it was plastered all over it.

“hi guys.” bev greeted them, giving them each a hug, and eddie could see ben shaking at something as minimal as that.

both of the boys said hi together, and it felt like slow motion as eddie turned to look up at the one he had really been looking forward to seeing. there he was, the man who had taken over his mind and clouded all his judgement. 

“hi richie.” eddie stuttered out, wanting to smack himself for seeming so pathetic.

richie hadn’t even fully looked at him until then, but when he did eddie almost melted on sight. those big brown eyes warm as they looked down at him, scanning his body with a look eddie had never seen before but it made his knees weak and he knew it was something good.

his smile was always wide, his big mouth causing it to be, and eddie found that fitting that not only did he have a big mouth figuratively but literally too. perfect for trash talking, heart stopping smiles, and the best kiss of his life.

“hey eddie.” richie’s voice came out almost in a sing song tune, teasing, flirting in such a subtle way only eddie could tell (and maybe beverly if she really focused). if eddie had taken a step back from richie’s deep brown eyes he would see beverly was too busy attempting a conversation with ben who mumbled under his breath as he tried to find the proper words in response to her. richie’s cool voice was broadcasted to the entire school, but for now it was just eddies to hear.

that tiny part of his brain that was reckless (and never got used) was now wishing it was just them two. wishing he had reached out to richie himself and asked him to hang out, or on a date, but he knew without the other two there he would be like ben and just clam up around his crush.

then again he didn’t need to worry about his words if his lips were pressed against richie’s.

he wanted to chastise himself mentally for these thoughts, feeling dirty for focusing too intently on richie’s lips and wanting nothing more than to leave this place and make out in his car. he had to remind himself there was no reason to feel shame, they were technically adults, and his mother wasn’t here to judge him. 

“it’s nice seeing you again.” eddie stumbled out while in his trance at richie’s mouth, finally breaking himself out of it to turn to beverly, “you too beverly.”

she smiles back at him, glad to have someone break the awkwardness between her and ben. 

“well let’s chow down, i’m starving and if we don’t get some food in me my stomach will revolt.” richie rushed to the group, imitating the growls of his stomach as he rubbed it, only stopping when bev slapped his hand away with a quiet laugh.

“i’m supposed to help ben shop, and i’m not that hungry. we can, if you want though?” beverly turned to ask ben, who was glaring down at eddie for using him as the excuse for them all to hang out.

eddie could only hope ben would open his eyes and see he was helping him.

“um i’m not really hungry, we can shop.” ben forced out, unable to fully look at beverly only looking at her through brief glances, meanwhile his eyes begged eddie to come with them and not leave him alone with his crush.

eddie opened his mouth to agree and leave with them, but the feeling of richie’s arm falling around his shoulder and his loud voice cutting through stopped him dead in his tracks. “you two can shop and ed and i can eat. don’t make me eat alone, come on.”

he looked up at richie, who towered over him and who’s arm felt like a weight on his shoulders, as if he was an angel. an angel with unruly hair, a big mouth and crooked nose, but an angel none the less. his angel, if he was going to go full cheese (which he always did).

he couldn’t even bring himself to respond, just nodding his head in agreement and happy to see that made richie smile even more. 

“okay, eddie and i will go eat while you two shop, perfect. i’ll text you when we’re done and want to meet up?” richie asked beverly, his arm not leaving eddie yet.

“sounds good, see ya later.” bev responded, smiling and waving at them, while ben gave eddie a look of distress.

ben, this is good for you, and this is definitely good for eddie.

once they were alone richie picked up his long legs and began to strut towards the food, his arm around eddie’s shoulder dragging him along and forcing him to go at the same speed of him, of course eddie didn’t mind. “come on eds, we’ll have some fun.”

“some fun just watching you eat?” he questioned, trying to ignore the racing heart and anxiety in his veins and talk to richie like he wasn’t the guy he had been crushing on for forever.

“well after i eat we can have some fun, duh.” richie stated as if it was so obvious, which it might have been to anyone but eddie.

“fun doing what?” it came off flirty to richie, like eddie was playing coy on purpose, when in actuality he was truly just clueless.

richie cocks his head to the side as he looks down at him, ordering his food quickly before answering his question. “what do you think?”

eddie honestly still had no idea, but stayed silent at the risk of sounding like an idiot in front of him.

they stayed silent as richie waited for his food, which wasn’t too long before he grabbed the tray and brought them to one of the few empty tables in the food court. looking around eddie wondered how anyone could eat here, the tables were rarely clean and people always left a mess, and it was so crowded. just breathing in the air here made him feel sick and want to run to the bathroom to throw up, but years of trying to heal from those instincts stopped him and instead he rubbed his hands on his thighs as a nervous tick.

“are you okay?” richie questioned, his mouth full and making eddie grimace in disgust.

“i’m fine, and you shouldn’t talk with your mouth open.” no crush would stop him from chastising such disgusting behavior.

richie answered back with a full, open smile showcasing every bit of food that was in his mouth. eddie shrieked with disgust making richie laugh, and if it was anyone else eddie would be running for the hills but since it was richie it was kind of...charming. how little he cared, how no stress or anxiety got to him, and how he didn’t care what people thought of him. it was refreshing, it was everything eddie liked about him.

eddie was surprised at the speed at which richie could eat, and the amount of food he could fit in his mouth. he ate like there was no time for it, like he had to rush and do it quickly, and not leave even the smallest bit on his plate.

he wiped his mouth quickly with a napkin as a pathetic attempt to get clean, getting up without a word and throwing the food away and setting the tray down. he walked away, leaving eddie to chase after him with plenty of questions.

“do you want to text beverly or do you want me to? or do you want me to text ben? so we know where to meet up with them?” he rushed the questions out quickly, the speed at which richie walked creating an odd sense of urgency.

richie walked through one of those doors that were spread around malls that were for employees only and didn’t lead to any stores rather the hallways things were exported. eddie had no time to ask what they were doing there as he followed him in before he felt his back be pressed up against the wall and richie’s lips crash onto him.

he shrieked at the suddenness of it all, his back hurting a little from the sudden force but all that was numbed once he realized who it was that was kissing him. maybe dreams do come true, and maybe they come true multiple times, and somehow kissing richie got even better.

richie was crouched down to meet eddie at his shorter height, making it able for eddie to wrap his arms around his neck and card his fingers through richie’s curly tangles.

his heart was racing so fast he thought it would burst out of his chest, both because richie was kissing him and out of fear that at any minute a worker could come in and yell at them or ban them from life. when looking at the two options, the fact that he was kissing richie made the risk of getting in trouble so worth it.

they only pulled away once they were out of breath and richie’s back ached from bending over to meet eddie’s height. eddie could feel his cheeks burning up, quickly touching them with the back of his palm to feel how hot they were and to hide the blush from richie, who was already back on his phone texting someone.

“bev’s on the second floor, let’s meet up with them.” hearing how quickly he changed subjects and moved on from what had just happened was disheartening for eddie, leaving him to wonder what exactly had just happened.

he stood where he was as richie went back to the door to leave, turning to look back and wait for eddie to follow. he did silently, dejected and hurt and ready to leave. he reached the door, waiting for richie to move the handle and let them out, because being so close to him was suffocating after all that just happened in such a short amount of time.

his body tensed up as he felt richie’s hot breath on his ear, whispering something down to him. “i hate to leave, because you’re just so addicting.”

every time he thinks he’s out, richie draws him back in again.

then again, eddie doesn’t mind being played like a yo yo if richie keeps kissing him like that.

[anewworldorderseries]

A New World Order (BB x NB Crossover AU) - Prologue

Author’s Note: It’s finally out into the world! This is definitely the biggest writing project I’ve taken on (and stayed committed to) ever so, I’m so happy that it’s successfully made its way outside of my head and into actual words. Ever since Cal’s cameo in BB2, I needed these two groups to meet and it gradually turned into this epic crossover story. We also just need more time with the Nightbound crew in general since we didn’t get a book 2. All the open ends about the creatures in New Orleans really allowed me to experiment though and go outside the parameters the canon universe has. 

Get ready for epic narrative themes! I’ve managed to interconnect these two pretty well (maybe even too connected). You’ll also see a couple cameos of characters from two other books (well the modern-day vampire versions anyway) as well. I’ll also be posting these on my main blog @adrianadmirer so that more people will see it but, I created this blog just for the story since it’s such a big work. 

I just hope you love this story and these characters as much as I do.

Characters: Isabel Martinez (Bloodbound MC, mentioned), Zelenia Laskaris (Nightbound MC, mentioned), Alaric Laskaris (OC), Phoebe Laskaris (OC), Derek Laskaris (OC), Rheya (The First Vampire)

Rating: PG-13 (some mentions of violence)

Summary: An old threat has risen from the ashes and is ready to use their original purpose to enact it’s new diabolical plan. 

Update: Hello! Since book 3 has come and gone, it has influenced what I want to do in this story including changing some key things. First, I didn’t really like Rheya at all. Definitely more than I had planned to. Also, I like my BB mc, Isabel, as a vampire and the entire plot of book 3. So, I’ve decided to change the timeline of this to be after the end of the entire series which means Rheya is dead and won’t be in this anymore. It also means that Isabel will be a vampire from the start. I think this will be a good thing because I can focus on some of other characters and plotlines in greater detail. 

However, there is one major difference from the canon ending. Jax and Lily (and the others) are very much alive. I’m going with my rewrite ending for this story (where Gaius is the sacrificial lamb). 

@endlesshero1122 , @kinda-iconic , @voseho , @something-in-red , @bloodboundsstuff , @lovemychoices, @mrsmatsuo, @galaxyside-0, @jlpplays1, @brightpinkpeppercorn, @desiree-0816, @tabithacarlisle, @shelley-parah, @ladykateofhousebeaumont, @ella-raines, @furiouscloddonutpeanut, @itlivesinpixelberry, @fluffy-cat-whisper, @strangelycami, @heatherfilliez, @edgaluten, @parrotdrama

(If you see yourself tagged its because you’ve liked a lot of my Bloodbound fics and/or you liked my previous Nightbound fic)

A nondescript black Range Rover pulled up to the curb outside of Rikers Island, the impressive structure a menacing presence in the pitch black of night. Pulling to a stop, the headlights shut off as the people inside waited. Not a sound could be heard, the silence stretched on endlessly into the night.

After several minutes, a tall muscular figure finally appeared around the side of the building, breaking into a sprint towards the car once the coast seemed clear. The windows rolled down as the dark-haired young man approached. 

“Get in son,” a male voice ordered, and the back door opened. 

Letting out a dry laugh he climbed inside, sitting between the two already there. “Hah, maximum security my ass.”

“Shouldn’t have had to bribe you out of there in the first place,” the older man said with a sigh. 

Age and height were among the only details that differentiated the two of them. 

Then, the brunette woman next to them cleared her throat. “I’m assuming the guards got the money?”

“Yes, aunt Phoebe.”

She nodded approvingly before checking the time on her expensive watch. “Good. Let’s make sure that Warden Daniels and Chief Mikalsen get theirs. Then, we won’t have anyone trying to get you back.”

The SUV came to life once more, driving off into the glittering city towards their destination. 

“Where are we going, Father? Home?” the young man asked, leaning against the cool window. 

“Briefly, just so you can change,” he responded. “Then, you’re headed to the airport.”

His son’s eyes widened and he tilted his head upright once more. “Already? Where to? Why?”

“We finally have our new headquarters finished, somewhere they’ll never be able to find. This means soon we’ll be able to launch a renewed attack on the vampires to wipe them out for good and we’ll be one step closer to our actual goal. You know from the letters what that is.”

This news proved surprising. “So soon? But...but the death of Balthazar...the destruction of the Mydiean compound...shouldn’t it have taken years to rebuild?”

It was his aunt who responded with a scoff, a smirk tugging at her painted lips. “Of course not. We have cutting edge technology, far greater than anyone has even anticipated. We had it stored in a secret location underground in case this very thing happened. The Order isn’t just back to normal...it’s even stronger now. Practically unstoppable.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” he retorted. “Where are you sending me?”

His father gave him a sideways glance. “New Orleans. For a while.”

This was met with an incredulous stare. “Why there?! Aren’t the bloodsuckers much weaker there than here? Do you not believe in me anymore?”

“I thought I told you never to question me, son,” his father roared, his face turning bright red even in the dimly lit car. Exhaling, he continued at a lower volume. “That’s exactly why both of us need to be here. We need more resources, more time to bend the public to our will. Besides, we’re not just worried about vampires anymore. There are...more monster species to worry about down there. Once we thought we eliminated years ago.”

He got his desired shock from his son who sat up. “What kind of...monsters? Like...the ones you used to tell me and Zelenia about when we were kids?”

The woman nodded. “Yes. Werewolves, witches, even the pesky Fae have rebuilt Lamrian to staggering heights and reestablished their connection to the realm. For us to succeed all of them must go. Including my daughter now that she’s chosen to embrace her half-breed nature.”

There was a brief silence. 

Then, the young man became animated once more. “Okay...well what about her...Isabel? You need me to kill her don’t you?”

“No Derek.” His father’s exclamation made the car interior vibrate. “You got caught, that’s why we’ve had to bribe have of the city’s officials to bust you out. We can’t afford to take that risk again, especially since we couldn’t get that protection order removed. Besides...now that she’s with them she’s too valuable now. We need her to be unharmed, at least for now. To break her, yes...cause then they’ll crumble. But, we don’t need human blood on our hands yet unless they get in our way.”

“But, I--”

“Stay away from her,” he ordered. “Or I will personally see to it that you are kicked out of The Order permanently. Understood.”

The young man simply nodded, his jaw clenched. 

“Excellent. I don’t want to disinherit my only heir.” He let out a low chuckle, his foul mood from seconds earlier now gone. “Not when they’ve done our dirty work for us. Now that the First Son, our dear fraud of a leader is dead, we can move on from this self-righteous talk and take power for ourselves just like we were destined to do from the beginning. If we’re the ones to prove humanity is superior, it’s only fair that we get rewarded.”

A slow smile eventually spread on the young man’s face, the two of them hauntingly alike. “I won’t let you down, not this time.”

“I’ll guarantee it.” 

An equally diabolical grin covered the dark-haired woman’s face, her blue eyes shimmering as she caught her reflection in the mirror. “We are so close Alaric. Soon, everything will be ours. Balthazar was right about one thing, there will be a new world order. Ours.”

They continued to drive further into the dark night, the glow of the city fading into the background once more.

[gwaciechang]

Love Run (4/10?)

“Welcome to my table, bring your hunger”

Yes, I know that line’s from The Horror and the Wild. Deal with it.

Once again, trigger warnings for Bobby Hayes’ life and everything involved in it. This chapter also involves a character with OCD whose rituals lead to an argument with the POV character, the discovery that an addict is keeping drugs in a recovering addict’s living space (a brief line that will be discussed later), and a heavy discussion of the POV character’s past drug abuse and recovery. Read at your own risk below the cut.

“Home sweet home,” you breathe a sigh of relief. Behind you, Bobby is tense and unhappy. That doesn’t change when he steps inside. You wince when you notice the mess. God, why didn’t you clean up before?

Well, missing the bus, making a friend, and killing a hitman might have had something to do with it. You shake yourself out of the memory before it can overwhelm you. You're literally too tired to have a panic attack, how sad is that?

You start scrubbing the dishes you left from breakfast that last morning into the sink. The handle falls off the mug, and you curse. That had been your favorite, too, because it’s the only one your ex didn’t give you when you two moved into this place. The only glue you have in the house is a children’s gluestick that couldn’t hold two pieces of paper together, assuming you could even find it. You resign yourself to a trip to the store. Bobby would probably insist on his own set of dishes anyway, and you do’'t blame him, you're the one who let this place become a sty, after all.

“D-do you mind if I help?” Bobby asks shyly.

“No, of course not. Just, um, just let me know where you put things later, and, uh, try to keep similar things in the same place. That’s dish soap in the handsoap dispenser next to the faucet, by the way. I have a gallon jug of dish soap under the sink next to the trashcan that I refill it with, it’s just easier.” When you realize you’re babbling, you shut your mouth with a click.

“That's smart,” Bobby’s smile is pained. “That’s normal person smart.”

“Normal?” you hold up your hands, which are still covered by his gloves.

Oddly enough, this actually makes him smile, and he gets to washing the dishes with his bare hands, even though it means having to touch four-day-old egg, or whatever that yellow crusty thing is. You go to your bedroom and try to organize your clothes, or at least get them off the floor. And that’s when you realize.

“Shit!”

“What is it?”

You poke your head out to say, “I don’t have a couch, and there’s only one bed.”

His face is grim and he fidgets when he says, “If you don’t mind, I could take a spare blanket and sleep on the floor.”

”I can’t let you sleep on the floor, Bobby, shit.” You take out your thickest blanket anyway, and go to the gaming room your ex set up to dump on the reclining chair. “I’ve fallen asleep here before,” you lie, you’d never used this room before. Bobby’s not paying attention, he’s too busy staring at your ex’s computer.

Right, he’s a fucking computer expert, and your ex, for all his uselessness, was very much into getting the latest technology for League of Warcraft or whatever it was he played.

“Yes, it is most likely whatever model of computer you’re thinking of. I don’t know exactly, since I’ve never used it,” you roll eyes and busy yourself with trying to figure out how to get the reclining chair to actually recline.

“I thought you said you’ve fallen asleep here before.”

Ah shit, you need to be more careful. “Um, yeah,” you hide your face carefully. “When my ex would fall asleep here, I’d usually come join him.” That actually isn’t a lie. “I hate sleeping by myself in that big bed.”

Bobby makes a sound, and for a second your heart beats fast with the hope he’s going to offer to sleep in the bed with you. But then he opens his mouth. “Have you considered getting a large stuffed animal?”

The idea is appealing. You hadn’t held a stuffed animal even close to your size since you were maybe five, but you’d be damned if you let Bobby knew that.

“I will throw this chair at you,” you threaten.

He honest-to-god smirks. “You can’t even lift it.”

You do your best and succeed at tipping the chair over right into the window. The headrest smashes into the blinds and starts to go through the glass as well, but Bobby catches it at the last second and very carefully tips it back.

“Well, fuck,” you say, examining the crack in the glass.

“I don’t usually sleep at night,” Bobby says suddenly. His fingers are tapping that nervous pattern against his elbows again. “We could take turns sleeping in the bed?”

“Actually, that might be a good idea,” you remember what Harry said. “One of us should be on alert, just in case somebody tries to break down my door, too.”

Bobby tenses at the reminder, and his eyes flick toward the door like somebody’s about to jump out right now. “I will,” he promises, rubbing the sores on his arms. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I can stay awake for a long time.”

“Well, so can I,” you think ruefully of being so high on meth you wouldn’t even realize a week passed by until the high ran out and you crashed, starving, hallucinating, for days.

“Don’t take anything, please. Don’t take anything that’ll keep you awake, and I promise I won’t take anything,” Bobby’s eyes are fierce.

“I won’t,” you promise. “I’d rather die. I’m not joking, I’d rather die.”

He gets closer to you, one inch at a time. “Well, don’t do that either,” he lays a reluctant hand on your shoulder.

“I think I’ve done a pretty good job of not doing that,” you try to force some levity into the situation. “Now come on, you barely have any clothes, and my groceries have probably gone bad.”

It turns out to be a mistake, because you forgot it was Friday and not Monday, and the shop is crowded.

“I don’t need anything,” Bobby says sullenly. He flinches every time someone brushes past him.

“Is it because the police took your money? That’s fine. I can afford it for a couple days,” you walk in front of him so you’ll deal with the crowd and he can avoid people in your wake. You also fail at trying not to think about work. You’re missing almost a week’s worth of income, and you don’t even know if Bobby has a job.

“No, I brought the box. I don’t like it here. It’s too loud.”

“Okay, let’s go home, and then you can make a list for me of things you need, and I’ll get it,” you start to turn him to the exit.

“No,” he takes your hand. “I’m not leaving you alone.” Does he realize he’s humming to his usual six beats?

That gives you an idea. “Here,” you take his gloves off and hold them under his face so he can see them.

“They’re yours,” he still doesn’t meet your eyes. “They keep you from scratching.”

“I’m not scratching, they worked. Now put them on.”

He does, and with his hands covered, he doesn’t stop tapping, but nor is he flinching when people pass by him. You’re not arrogant enough to believe it’s because you’re holding his hand now.

He closes all the blinds once you get home, then opens them to close them again.

You leave him to it, opening up the refrigerator door to toss the rotten carrots and a bag of things that could be kiwis or apples out. The cherries are a little soft, but they look edible, and so do the wrinkly oranges, so you put the green bananas in between them to help them ripen faster.

“I’ll do it,” Bobby yanks the groceries out of your hands and starts rearranging your food.

“Can you leave the fruit where it is? I want the bananas to ripen faster.”

“You could’ve just bought ripe bananas,” he says.

“Yes, but I don’t eat them that fast,” you try to keep your temper in check.

He takes the bag of cherries. “These are old.”

“They’re still good,” you argue, trying to keep him from throwing them out.

“They’re old,” he insists.

“You’re not the one who’s eating them!” your voice is getting higher now.

“I don’t want them in the refrigerator. They get old and they become breeding grounds for bacteria.”

“It’s my refrigerator!”

He throws the cherries at you before storming out of the room, and you just barely catch them. He’s tapping his fingers so hard against the wall that you’re afraid he'll break them.

“Bobby-”

“SHUT UP! STOP TALKING!” he screams. His eyes are clenched shut and he’s doubled over. You wonder if his injuries are still bothering him, and all your anger drains out.

You drop the cherries behind the bananas so they’re hidden from view. “I’ll leave the groceries to put away how you want,” you say as you walk off to your room. You close the door quietly to avoid disturbing his rituals, turn around, and find his box at the top of his dresser.

You know this is invasive, but you need to know. You of all people know how tentative the hold on sobriety is, and if someone has hard drugs that you know is triggering for you, you have to protect yourself. Still, knowing that doesn’t make you feel any less awful to start singing Bonnie Tyler again to hide the sounds of you opening the box.

Well, that’s a lot of cash and not a lot of heroin, maybe. You can’t smell it like this, but you know what it looks like.

You leave everything where it is and close the box in favor of something you can control: sorting the laundry. That’s how Bobby finds you, and he lets out a little sigh of relief when he sees his box hasn’t been disturbed.

“There was so much noise,” he says harshly, and then he winces.

“I understand,” you try to reassure him. “Your life just got turned upside down, you lost your apartment, you’re in a whole new living situation with another person, your life is in danger by people you don’t know, and shopping in big crowds can be stressful. You’re trying to get your control back.”

“So are you,” Bobby insists. “You’ve got a new roommate, that roommate’s reminding you of the worst time of your life, and you’ve still got nightmares of that man you killed for me. I should let you have your comfort food, it’s not my comfort food.”

“Which is why I put the cherries somewhere harder to see,” you say. “And if there’s anything else I can do, let me know, alright? We can compromise as long as we talk to each other.” You take tentative steps toward him. “Thank you for being honest with me. Thank you for not hiding or getting high to avoid having this conversation.”

“You shouldn’t be proud. I'm just doing something you’ve been doing for years.”

“Well, too bad, because it's my feelings and I get to feel whatever I want,” you say, standing up. “Now, I’m going to make myself some food. Coming?”

He does, like you hoped. Honestly, that boy needs some meat on his bones.

“What do you like?” you ask, getting your cooking utensils out and leaving the doors open so he can rearrange them the way he likes. He’s doing you a favor, really, you don’t have any organizational system for most of your kitchen.

“I want to know how to make your favorite.”

You can’t help yourself from clutching your chest. “Lu mian it is,” you say, taking out the yellow bean sprouts from the fridge so you could snap the roots off. “Could you take the shredded beef out of the freezer and put it in the microwave to thaw?”

He obeys immediately, the sweetheart.

“Great. Now get me the big metal bowl and a plate from the dishwasher. The bowl’s on the top shelf, the plates are on the bottom, and you can organize it however you like after that.”

“Okay, you see that big three-layered pot in the corner? Take the top two pots off, fill the bottom pot about halfway with water, and then put it on any of the stoves and turn the heat to medium.”

The water turns on, then off, and the pot clinks against the stovepot. Only once.

“What else?”

“Get a porcelain bowl from the dishwasher, top shelf. And then you see the sauces next to the stove? One of them says ‘light soy sauce.’ Pour about a tablespoon of it into a bowl. When you're done with that, there's garlic in the fridge in the same place you keep your butter in your refrigerator. Dice five or six. The cutting board is next to the sink. Then mix the garlic in with the sauce, and when the beef’s thawed, pour it into the bowl and mix it again.”

The microwave dings, and he pours the beef into the bowl. “Like this?” he asks.

“Exactly, perfect.”

Is that a blush?

“Alright, what’s next?” he asks when he finishes.

“Next? Next you listen to me thank you for following my directions perfectly.”

Bobby blushes. He’s so beautiful.

“Is the water boiling yet?” you ask as you wash the sprouts.

“Um, it’s getting close, it’s bubbling.”

“Okay, take two chunks of noodles out of the freezer and put them on the plate. 30 seconds in the microwave should thaw them out enough for you to separate them.” The microwave dings right as you pour the water out of the sprouts. You leave the sprouts next to the sink, separate the top two pots, and walk up to Bobby as he takes out the noodles. “Okay, do exactly as I do,” you say, taking one chunk of noodle from him to unravel into one of the pots. He, of course, follows your instructions perfectly and his pot is much neater than yours, the show-off.

“The water’s boiling," he says, looking at the stove.

“Perfect,” you put your pot over his and put them over the pot already on the stove. Then you grab a pot and pour about two tablespoons of vegetable oil into it, and crank it up to high. “Okay, pour the beef and garlic in here,” you point.

He’s already brushed the mixture into the pot by the time you realize you didn’t give him the spatula, so rinse it out quickly before stirring the mixture with it. Steam hisses, and you roll up your sleeves.

That was a mistake.

You cover the scars as soon as you can, but Bobby is already horrified.

“It’s not that bad,” you focus on making sure the garlic doesn’t stick to the pot. “They were uglier before they healed,” you try to joke.

Bobby rolls up his sleeves, too, so you can see his bruised injection sites. He makes eye contact the whole time, daring you to call yourself ugly again. You nod in acquiescence, and he takes over stirring for you. “How long do I do this for?” he asks.

“Until the meat turns brown,” you say, grabbing the bowl of sprouts. “Move over, I'm going pour this in.”

“Do I mix it in?” he asks. You’re so close to him that you can feel his warmth.

“Yes,” you squeak with a dry mouth. You don’t want to move. “A little more than that,” you say, peering at the pot. “A little more,” and technically this is good enough, but you don’t want to move. “A little more.”

The dry hiss of the noddle pot tells you that it needs more water, snapping you out of your stupor.

“Take the top two pots off,” you say, filling the metal bowl with water to pour into the bottom pot. Then you take the top pot off and put it on the bottom pot. “Now put yours on top of mine.” Man, you would love to say that in a different context.

When the noodles are done, you mix them into the meat and sprouts, and then you both sit down to enjoy your meal. Neither of you have rolled down your sleeves.

“I can’t remember when the noise really started getting to me,” Bobby says suddenly. “I remember the first time I lost my tooth, I kept counting my teeth. I don’t think anybody knew what I was doing yet. And then I had to do more and more. At some point, whenever I went out, I had to count all the trees, and if they weren’t in six, I couldn’t go to where I need unless I counted enough trees to fit six. So I stopped going out, things were just too scary. I broke my fingers one day, to try to keep myself from counting, and the doctor gave me Valium. It made me feel like I was floating, and when it wore off, I had to feel it again. When I’m on heroin, the world isn’t so scary anymore. But the noise always gets through again.”

You reach halfway across the table and lay your open hand down. “When I was thirteen, one of my friends had expired pills they let me take, because I was tired all the time and I didn’t know why. And I still don’t know. I just had to keep taking more and more of it to just stay awake, and then I started mixing other amphetamines. And then when I was fifteen, one of the people I used to buy from said he had something better than expired pills. He gave me crystal meth. He told me he’d inherited this mansion from his uncle, and it was full of the stuff. It was probably just an abandoned building, but it was always full of people using everything he sold.”

Bobby’s eyes are wet, but they’re looking right at yours, and he takes your hand. “How did you stop?”

You chuckle. “Honestly, my sister. My entire family stopped talking to me after they found out I was a tweaker. And one day, when I was too tired to care how much I took, I ended up having a heart attack. I still don’t know how she found me, but she did, and she called an ambulance and kept me alive until it got there. When I woke up, she was next to my hospital bed. She didn’t speak to me, but she locked me in her apartment while fluids poured out of me from both ends, and you have to really love somebody to do that while they’re screaming about how much they hate you.”

Bobby swallows. “Does your family talk to you now?”

“Yeah, eventually. It took a while to get my dad to come around. But having Chloe around to vouch for me really helped,” your eyes are blurring. You rub the tears away roughly, but they’re soon replaced by many more.

Bobby lifts his fingers and wipes them away.

“Thanks,” you say into your noodles.

“I’m sorry you were alone,” he says with way too much feeling.

“Well, once you get past the ‘Holy shit I almost died’ thing, you stop being so scared of things that aren't likely to kill you right this second,” you try to smile. It feels wrong on your face.

Your ex’s chair squeaks when Bobby stands up. You’re not sure what he's doing as he walks around the table, but his face is determined, so you don't say anything as he opens his arms and covers you in a hug.

[stevecoleridge-posts]

Day 6 ..Friday          Struggling .. which is why i did nt see the news or spend time on Social Media yesterday..          I thought it would be a breeze and after a little concentration id have it down .. but no , even the first part…known as lumpedy lump was proving tough , because of the triplet  walk up from the V to the 1.. and i think thats the part Jimmy Reed himself is playing…   If you ve read previous episodes you will know i refer to Honest I Do….the song.   Im learning it on a You Tube lesson , now a lot of people who think of themselves as pros , seem to think there s some sort  of stigma ro learning stuff on You Tube, but i know a French guy , of Spanish descent , who is a really hot Flamenco guitarist who has mastered nearly all the Palos , and all on You Tube  They are right, if you dedicate yourself to different songs at the same time, but it s like working form home…you need time and discipline ..and take the lessons very slowly and don’t move on till you can play it 20 times with your eyes shut..preferably standing up .. then move on up. Yesterday  was the first time i managed to do this.   There is a different tone on Social media today .. angrier , more prone to blame others, more censorious…and on one group forum i saw they were going to ban Humour..well , i don’t personally know the Group leader.. but it does nt take much imagination to know she s not someone you d want to be quarantined with.    The only thing to fear is fear itself.. well i certainly don’t think that applies in this situation, quite the reverse, the more frightened we are the less we will venture forth on errands that are not strictly necessary..i was on my way out the door , literally, when my mobile rang…it was the charming woman from the bank.. she d got my message .. id gone way over my limit.. which was why i could nt withdraw funds…She , and i won’t name her, is working from Home and sorted it all out on her laptop..no need for me to go to town..      Is nt that great?..well , I thought it was..and a good thing too,as she has not been provided with any masks..and we are talking about a Bank..if they cant get basic stuff like that no wonder the Government  are nt testing people .. they don’t have the wherewithal…it is nt as though this has nt been on the News everyday since December the something.    .I remember listening to Radio Four as i was driving through Slough, in December,… don’t ask … the M4 was closed..and i was listening to a woman in Wuhan describing how her parents were dying in the Street.. that really got my attention.   It did nt seem to get the attention of the people in charge here however, as when the inevitable arrived nearly three months later , they had done nothing to prepare for it.   The Spanish Disease is politics, it creeps into every corner of life and spreads its poison , a bit like you know what,..and in the past when people got fed up with their venal politicians there was a Military Coup , and then they realised maybe life was better before with democracy … and the cycle starts again. This model has been exported successfully to Latin America.. with the possible  exception of Mexico. and Costa Rica   Its all very well for us stodgy Northerners with our bad weather , to criticise, but Sun affects people,and when things are good they seem so much better  in the Sunshine..but something about Sunny weather produces Volatility, and an @ i won’t fix the roof as its not raining @ World View… and Italys  colossal death rate is the price to be paid .. not that it is nt sunny in China..or South Korea..but they do a lot more than just fix the roof..and to put  it down to Confucianism .. well  maybe best not to start on that.   Australia will be interesting, they have lots of sun , but its a pretty organised place ..and i don’t see them making this sort of Balls up.. also they have the experience of natural disasters,,and pulling together, and will not let Politics interfere…any country that had leaders with  names  like Abbott and Costello doesn’t waste too energy on petty politics.  The Current Classic example of petty minded, spiteful, pointless,  negative ,oppurtunism , is the  attempt on social media and what sup groups to denigrate the Royal Family organising people to rattle saucepans at a given time, because apparently the current King s father had a rather large amount of money in a Swiss Account..well, it was Saudi Money , not money stolen from the Spanish taxpayer, unlike the billions stolen by the previous administration , the PP .The idea for this stupidity was inspired by the Custom of applauding the Medical profession every night at eight o clock.. an excellent morale boosting , bringing everyone together kind of gesture..well everything has its opposite and this is an excellent way to breed more discontent and fracture an all ready pretty fractured society.. it beggars belief and you really have to have lived here to see these Barca Madrid  idiocies at first hand.   Barca Madrid is a term used to describe the divide and conquer ,us and them , attitudes that have stopped Spains progress since the collapse of their Empire, culminating in the most vicious Civil War in recent European History, and one would have hoped  that after 40 plus years of Democracy it would have disappeared , but sadly, like in the USA and a lot of other democracies , it seems to be on the increase.The anger on Social Media which results from the claustrophobic frustration of a lockdown will hopefully not boil over into something with unpleasant political consequences, which would be very sad , as after Francos death and the adoption of constitution that is the envy of many countries, Spain was a beacon of hope in the last quarter of the 20 th century… how the mighty are fallen .. one hopes not.. SPANISH LOCKDOWN DAY  7   Slept really well , but then  I remember reading that people on Death row sleep 16 hours a day so possibly not a good sign.   Last Night i watched the Spanish news ,on the main channel and things are looking up , relatively speaking, in the sense that testing has arrived ..someone, or some country, has sent several thousand, or may be half a million test kits.. which is obviously excellent news , and testing in  Galicia is going full steam ahead. There was the obligatory item about a vaccine..which I think one can take with a pinch of salt. .Military erecting field hospitals next to various main hospitals…the eight o clock applause of medical staff…all in all well put together not too desperately pessimistic, and generally not as disheartening as Facebook.. afterwards i felt like some light relief so we watched eleven episodes of 2 and half men,  in Spanish ,to cheer ourselves up before going to bed.   ..   Today i decided to live a normal day .. if such a thing were possible , so , after taking Tina for a walk i got the Old TV and DVD working and put on Marty Schwarz s Intermediate Blues Guitar Course part one…and it started raining .. so that was encouraging as it took away any temptation to venture outside.. except for firewood that is.   I worked through the course without rushing , but also without too much pausing , as i d done those lessons before, and all that repetition of Honest I do  is paying off..   On going outside for firewood i could not ignore the noise of the generator that kicked in yesterday evening, as we ve had not Sun for several days, so i decided to fill it up with diesel, and see how much 15 hours constant running had used,only half the 20 litre can to fill  up the tank…but was it full to begin with?..anyway it s very rare to have 4 days without sun , so even if it did use  13 euros of diesel  Im not going to freak out as that was expensive diesel.. and I’m entitled to use the cheaper stuff .Of cause i spilled Diesel over my hands , and shoes , and when i spent a good 5 minutes trying to wash the smell out i realised this was the ultimate anti virus test.. so i will leave a bowl of Diesel outside every time i go to town and use that as first part of the disinfection process , yet another excuse not to go to town.    My neighbour M.  rang and suggested i look at his scheme on Facebook to institute Food Deliveries , so one does nt have to go to the Supermarket in person  and infect and be infected… a good idea of course , but like so many , i don’t see it happening…I pointed out several objections , lack of drivers, expense, one would need a sort of Uber program which will probably not be ready for a year .. etc..and the Supermarkets are making so much money i doubt they need this sort of input.I promised to look at it later , which I will , as Lunch was ready.   We ve run out of  Bread ,Oranges and Chocolate, Aurora has broken a nail and the nail bars are closed till further notice…but otherwise  we can probably get through till Monday without suffering too much ..on the other hand Monday is probably the worst day to go shopping..Im toying with the idea of going to the small Supermarket, at 8 am Sunday morning, and hopefully having it to myself , as i cant face the idea of a queue. I know English people are supposed to love queueing but i must be an exception, and queuing nowadays is a High Risk Activity.    The Sun is out and i did one of the jobs from a month old to do list… pumping the water out the flooded pump room , it all went very well , and i felt  very worthy , and now , with the Sunshine it s time for a walk , with Tina , of course.   I return , feeling optimistic .. and the phone rings, i assume it s my neighbour asking if I’ve read his article.it isn’t , it s C another near neighbour, with some very bad news .  The police are in Quarantine…and the Army will soon be here. No Tobacco..as they will close the Tobacconist.  A completely different ball game  I rang M, and gave him the news…I f he d had  a kalashnikov  he d have been checking the magazine  I rang another neighbour  F, whose office is next to the Police Station , to warn him. .When the Rumour , comes to your Town , It Grows and Grows, Where it Started No-one Knows…*Robbie Robertson   I rang my source in the Town Hall G…no , it s only one cop , and he has nt got the results yet..   I rang M  again…he had spoken to his friend who is a Guardia Civil .no , it was nt a Cop it was a Guardia Civil..he also told me the Cuban woman who cleans houses had been stopped, by the Police and they checked the receipt for her shopping    I rang the first neighbour and corrected the original story        I opened Facebook .. and there was the original story , which had started a firestorm of comments along the likes of whats your source? etc as though we were in the Watergate hearings, not only that,  the people reading the story imagined it referred to Mojacar , not Carboneras , and were all frantically ringing the Police Staion , The Town Hall and each other to see if it were true.    The tones of the respective comments went from shrill outrage that anyone should suggest such a story without due documentation , to fear , to I knew this would happen, all these irresponsible idiots .. blah blah   It began to increasingly resemble an episode of Dads Army with a false alarm about a German Landing.., which Facebook does anyway    There is the Captain Mainwaring..@While i was out today making sure everyone was behaving themselves i saw these irresponsible panic shoppers,  and these people walking around without a good reason @     The Fraser .. We Re Doomed     The Air raid Warden…Its all the fault of the Ruling Class, and rules are rules etc     Jones ..Dont Panic... in a tone of complete hysteria    Pikes mother…Be sure to wear your gloves , motorcycle helmet , hazchem suit, mask..galoshes, .Do you have your hand sanitiser , all clothes must be burnt on reentry etc     By this time Auroras original alarm had been replaced by hilarity, as she was sitting by the fire hearing one side of these conversations..     I went out for some more wood and we relaxed by watching a Documentary about the Boeing 737 MAX..complete with simulation in the Pilots cockpit    The best part was the CEO of Boeing trying to justify his 30 million Dollar salary at a Congressional hearing..…i wondered what the Shareholders thought about that , i know what the victims families thought , as they were being interviewed and did nt sound too impressed

[madrut16]

A New World Order (BB x NB AU) - Prologue

This is a repost from the story’s blog @anewworldorderseries ! If you like it so far, be sure to follow that blog, eventually, I’ll only post the chapters on there. 

Author’s Note: It’s finally out into the world! This is definitely the biggest writing project I’ve taken on (and stayed committed to) ever so, I’m so happy that it’s successfully made its way outside of my head and into actual words. Ever since Cal’s cameo in BB2, I needed these two groups to meet and it gradually turned into this epic crossover story. We also just need more time with the Nightbound crew in general since we didn’t get a book 2. All the open ends about the creatures in New Orleans really allowed me to experiment though and go outside the parameters the canon universe has. 

Get ready for epic narrative themes! I’ve managed to interconnect these two pretty well (maybe even too connected). You’ll also see a couple cameos of characters from two other books (well the modern-day vampire versions anyway) as well. I’ll also be posting these on my main blog @adrianadmirer so that more people will see it but, I created this blog just for the story since it’s such a big work. 

I just hope you love this story and these characters as much as I do.

Characters: Isabel Martinez (Bloodbound MC, mentioned), Zelenia Laskaris (Nightbound MC, mentioned), Alaric Laskaris (OC), Phoebe Laskaris (OC), Derek Laskaris (OC), Rheya (The First Vampire)

Rating: PG-13 (some mentions of violence)

Summary: An old threat has risen from the ashes and is ready to use their original purpose to enact it’s new diabolical plan while half a world away, the newly free Rheya realizes that her blessing of renewed life has come with a terrible curse. 

@endlesshero1122 , @kinda-iconic , @voseho , @something-in-red , @bloodboundsstuff , @lovemychoices, @mrsmatsuo, @galaxyside-0, @jlpplays1, @brightpinkpeppercorn, @desiree-0816, @tabithacarlisle, @shelley-parah, @ladykateofhousebeaumont, @ella-raines, @furiouscloddonutpeanut, @itlivesinpixelberry, @fluffy-cat-whisper, @strangelycami, @heatherfilliez, @edgaluten, @parrotdrama

(If you see yourself tagged its because you’ve liked a lot of my Bloodbound fics and/or you liked my previous Nightbound fic)

A nondescript black Range Rover pulled up to the curb outside of Rikers Island, the impressive structure a menacing presence in the pitch black of night. Pulling to a stop, the headlights shut off as the people inside waited. Not a sound could be heard, the silence stretched on endlessly into the night.

After several minutes, a tall muscular figure finally appeared around the side of the building, breaking into a sprint towards the car once the coast seemed clear. The windows rolled down as the dark-haired young man approached. 

“Get in son,” a male voice ordered, and the back door opened. 

Letting out a dry laugh he climbed inside, sitting between the two already there. “Hah, maximum security my ass.”

“Shouldn’t have had to bribe you out of there in the first place,” the older man said with a sigh. 

Age and height were among the only details that differentiated the two of them. 

Then, the brunette woman next to them cleared her throat. “I’m assuming the guards got the money?”

“Yes, aunt Phoebe.”

She nodded approvingly before checking the time on her expensive watch. “Good. Let’s make sure that Warden Daniels and Chief Mikalsen get theirs. Then, we won’t have anyone trying to get you back.”

The SUV came to life once more, driving off into the glittering city towards their destination. 

“Where are we going, Father? Home?” the young man asked, leaning against the cool window. 

“Briefly, just so you can change,” he responded. “Then, you’re headed to the airport.”

His son’s eyes widened and he tilted his head upright once more. “Already? Where to? Why?”

“We finally have our new headquarters finished, somewhere they’ll never be able to find. This means soon we’ll be able to launch a renewed attack on the vampires to wipe them out for good and we’ll be one step closer to our actual goal. You know from the letters what that is.”

This news proved surprising. “So soon? But...but the death of Balthazar...the destruction of the Mydiean compound...shouldn’t it have taken years to rebuild?”

It was his aunt who responded with a scoff, a smirk tugging at her painted lips. “Of course not. We have cutting edge technology, far greater than anyone has even anticipated. We had it stored in a secret location underground in case this very thing happened. The Order isn’t just back to normal...it’s even stronger now. Practically unstoppable.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” he retorted. “Where are you sending me?”

His father gave him a sideways glance. “New Orleans. For a while.”

This was met with an incredulous stare. “Why there?! Aren’t the bloodsuckers much weaker there than here? Do you not believe in me anymore?”

“I thought I told you never to question me, son,” his father roared, his face turning bright red even in the dimly lit car. Exhaling, he continued at a lower volume. “That’s exactly why both of us need to be here. We need more resources, more time to bend the public to our will. Besides, we’re not just worried about vampires anymore. There are...more monster species to worry about down there. Once we thought we eliminated years ago.”

He got his desired shock from his son who sat up. “What kind of...monsters? Like...the ones you used to tell me and Zelenia about when we were kids?”

The woman nodded. “Yes. Werewolves, witches, even the pesky Fae have rebuilt Lamrian to staggering heights and reestablished their connection to the realm. For us to succeed all of them must go. Including my daughter now that she’s chosen to embrace her half-breed nature.”

There was a brief silence. 

Then, the young man became animated once more. “Okay...well what about her...Isabel? You need me to kill her don’t you?”

“No Derek.” His father’s exclamation made the car interior vibrate. “You got caught, that’s why we’ve had to bribe have of the city’s officials to bust you out. We can’t afford to take that risk again, especially since we couldn’t get that protection order removed. Besides...now that she’s with them she’s too valuable now. We need her to be unharmed, at least for now. To break her, yes...cause then they’ll crumble. But, we don’t need human blood on our hands yet unless they get in our way.”

“But, I--”

“Stay away from her,” he ordered. “Or I will personally see to it that you are kicked out of The Order permanently. Understood.”

The young man simply nodded, his jaw clenched. 

“Excellent. I don’t want to disinherit my only heir.” He let out a low chuckle, his foul mood from seconds earlier now gone. “Not when they’ve done our dirty work for us. Now that the First Son, our dear fraud of a leader is dead, we can move on from this self-righteous talk and take power for ourselves just like we were destined to do from the beginning. If we’re the ones to prove humanity is superior, it’s only fair that we get rewarded.”

A slow smile eventually spread on the young man’s face, the two of them hauntingly alike. “I won’t let you down, not this time.”

“I’ll guarantee it.” 

An equally diabolical grin covered the dark-haired woman’s face, her blue eyes shimmering as she caught her reflection in the mirror. “We are so close Alaric. Soon, everything will be ours. Balthazar was right about one thing, there will be a new world order. Ours.”

They continued to drive further into the dark night, the glow of the city fading into the background once more.

...

Meanwhile, half a world away in rural Europe, it was anything but peaceful as dozens of terrified cries reverberated through the small village. The sun broke through the gray clouds like a harbinger straight from the heavens. 

A mysterious woman tore through the panicked townsfolk, her irises just as red as the blood that dripped down her silky skin. For her, this was just a normal hunt, the muscle memory that was still needing to be exercised. She didn’t know anything else, that she could do something other than kill. So she turned off her humanity, bared her teeth and consumed without another thought. 

“Sorry,” she murmured with a cackle as she ignored all of the begs for mercy. “It’s just...being trapped for a couple of millennia really makes you hungry.”

She continued her bloody mid-morning feast, her mind on autopilot as her victims collapsed one by one until she found herself draining a tiny neck belonging to a little boy. As the sweet liquid flooded her veins, her gaze lingered on the child, no older than six and slowly her thoughts came back to her. Realizing what she was doing, she abruptly tore her fangs from where she had latched on as the boy began to weaken in her arms, his eyes fluttering shut as he hovered on the edge of living and death. 

A sudden pang of remorse overwhelmed her. Something about killing someone so young had allowed a sliver of the humanity that had been buried when the priestess was sentenced to die thousands of years ago to peek through. At this moment, she wasn’t a predator who only thought about blood. She was simply Rheya.

Beginning to panic, she came to the realization that there was only one thing she could do to stop the boy’s decline now. 

She ignored the horrified audience watching and cut a slit in her wrist, feeding the gold-flecked blood to the boy. Then, she carried him into the dense woods behind the village, leaving the few survivors of her massacre alive. 

Rheya laid the child against a tree and struggled to perform the necessary rituals as morning turned into afternoon and then dusk. As she sun slipped beneath the trees she was startled by a low growling sound. 

Whirling around, a scream erupted from her lips as the boy’s pale skin was quickly rotting into a sickly gray and his blonde hair wilted and fell away as two fangs protruded from his mouth. What was meant to be saving his life was turning into a nightmare. She had barely any time to process what was happening when the boy leaped up with a terrifying hiss and lunged for her suddenly almost as powerful and quick as she was. 

He had to die. 

If not he was surely going to harm her, maybe even kill her when she had just come back to life. Swallowing she on instinct broke a branch off of one of the trees and as he came back for a second attack slammed it into the tiny ribcage. The boy let out a loud groan as the gray skin cracked all over before he finally turned into a pile of ash. 

Rheya stared at the remnants of him as her breath came out in loud gasps. For the first time since becoming a vampire, she felt fear and panic. She didn’t know what that creature he became was but, she didn’t need to in order to realize that she had done this. She quickly connected it back to her resurrection and horrified anger coursed through her. This was supposed to be a blessing yet the ability she cherished most...turning others to become her descendants...had been taken from her. 

Her gaze hardened with resolve and she furiously stabbed the branch into the ground with a growl. Then, she stomped out of the forest, not knowing where she was going but with a new purpose. 

She had to figure out how to lift this curse, whatever it took.