#avalon cabinets

[kitchenandfloorstoree]

Avalon Cabinets: The Best In The Market

When it comes to the cabinetry sector, Avalon takes excellent satisfaction in being the most inventive firm. Avalon is committed to giving additional value, features, and easy industry solutions to be successful for the end consumer. This commitment extends to the company's direct regional business model and simple industry solutions, such as its patented TruFrame design. Whatever you're after, using a single cabinet rather than two is now easy and more efficient. To put it another way, Avalon cabinets are simply the greatest.

[mrslectermoriarty]

A tribute to one of the best fanfictions I have ever read:

Don’t worry, you don’t have to know West Wing to read it <3

I can’t wait for the last chapter!!!

Okay so we have

1. “Important press Conference coming up!”

2. “The enemy has invaded the territory - wait no, the marines are the good ones:)”

3. “Quality Time for the family ❤️”

4. Something official (I may have pasted a small extract of the first chapter in there as a filler *-*)

5. “Home Office on a new level, I guess…”

6. “It’s been quite a while and you’re still going strong - happy birthday to my wingman in the air and on the ground @chiefofstaff (thanks for still putting up with me)”

7. “Small Talk can be just as important as conference meetings”

8. “You leave the room for five minutes and your staff starts destroying state property (just kidding, I love them all)”

9. “The vacation where you meet the extended family”

I know that you wouldn’t see most of that irl, but it’s Pete and he’s Maverick, what can I do?

Here are part 2 and 3 ^^

[jungle-angel]

"I Don't Need A Nurse" (Sentry x Reader)

Summary: Your husband insists that he can take care of himself, but just this once, he'll let you help him

Warnings: Light smut (ya'll know the rules), hurt, injuries etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @attapullman @withahappyrefrain @hangmanapologist

You didn't realize how long you had been asleep until you blinked your eyes open and found your copy of "The Mists Of Avalon" splayed on the floor, the pages slightly dog-eared and crumpled from the fall. You picked it up and stuck it on the coffee table, rubbing the grog from your eyes, surprised that it had already gotten dark out.

You looked at F.R.I.D.A.Y's screen in the kitchen, each one with a small, typed message from the rest of the team. A few were due to return in an hour, some were still out for the night and others had gone to help down at S.H.I.E.L.D due to an emergency. A loud meow from Goose had caught your attention, the orange tabby hopping up onto the kitchen counter and his tail swishing as you scratched his ears.

All of a sudden you felt something warm around your ring finger on your left hand. You looked down and found that your wedding ring, the one Jane and Thor had made in the dwarven forges of Asgard, was glowing bright white.

Robert.

You saw something streak across the sky followed by the sound of a quinjet approaching the landing pad outside. Relieved though you were, it was unusual that your husband and the rest of the team was home this early.

You rushed outside with Goose hot at your heels, the engines on the jet dying down and the back hatch opening. Out stepped Steve and Robert first and the rest of the team behind them, your husband looking a little worse for wear. The white hospital scrubs were torn and tattered, his hair clinging to his sweaty forehead, the paper tag bracelet still around his wrist and a pained look on his face.

You rushed right to him and he immediately caught you in his arms. "Oh baby......baby......m'so hot and tired," he panted.

"What happened?" you asked him.

"Mission took longer than we thought," he winced.

"Why don't you two go inside," Steve told you both. "We'll finish up here."

You helped Robert back into the tower, your ring having cooled down and the glow now so faint that it could hardly be seen. It took a while, but at last he was home and in your shared apartment where he could rest.

You ran a hot bath in the adjoining bathroom, not even bothering to measure the epsom salts you had dumped into the steaming water. You had tried the traditional way of getting his clothes off, but Robert was in so much pain that he could barely lift his arms.

You went straight to the First Aid kit in the medicine cabinet and pulled out the surgical scissors, cutting away the ratty scrubs that would be used for kitchen rags later on. Robert sucked in a breath as you helped him into the hot water and helped him clean the cuts, scratches and bruises that were all over him.

"Baby thank you," he croaked.

You kissed the crown of his head and put a cold soaked washcloth on the back of his neck. "You know I'd do anything for you," you whispered.

As soon as Robert was done, you helped him out and left a fresh set of clothes on the bed for him just in case he wanted them, but sleeping naked seemed to be the better option, even with the air conditioning going.

"Aw fuck!" he hissed, laying on his back. "Fuckin hurts."

"Well shit Bob where doesn't it hurt?" you chuckled.

"Here," he said, pointing to his cheek.

You rolled your eyes and pressed a gentle kiss to his soft cheek.

"Right here," he mumbled, pointing to the other.

You kissed his other cheek. You could feel the lazy smile forming on his face already.

Robert silently pointed to his lips, a yearning look in his eyes and the need and want for you burning inside him. Your lips met his, the kiss sweet and gentle but passionate and fiery all at once. You let it linger as his eyes fluttered shut and soon he was quietly snoring away in deep sleep. You crawled in next to him, your head resting on his chest and the strong beat of his heart putting you to sleep.

[mosneakers]

[Footsteps on creaky floorboards rapidly approach]

[Ornate double doors creak open wide]

Coni: Hi...Gwendolyn Darling?

Gwendolyn: Welcome back to the Darling-Avalon residence, darling!

Coni smiles politely; it's her first time here.

Gwendolyn: [Yelling into next room] Dearest? Get your bag on, we have company! [Directs attention back to Coni] Oh, come on in, quickly. We don't want to let those damned heterosexual squirrels get in again. [Scoffs and pulls Coni inside, quickly closing the doors behind her]

Coni steps through the doorway, immediately surrounded by the vibrant ambiance of a bustling household, filled with several strange characters tending to their individual business. Bonehilda, the skeleton maid, meticulously dusts every nook and cranny, while Gwendolyn's anonymous lover remains anonymous beneath a paper bag, quietly tuned into the evening news. Glowing orbs dance sporadically through the atmosphere, as occasional rodents scurry through intentional witchmade holes in the walls.

[Persephone Darling appears from the next room]

Persephone: What on earth brings you all the way out here all by yourself at this hour? I hope you didn't drive. Is everything okay, dear? Gwendolyn: [Gently grazes Coni's elbow] You know Persephone has an excellent talent for reading emotional auras.

Coni wanted to lie as always, but she couldn't bring herself to this time, so she settled for a half-truth.

Coni: Honestly, no, not really. [Shrugs] Just some family issues. I had a falling out with my parents. It's fine, though. I'll be fine.

Gwendolyn: [Nods knowingly] Yes, well, the engagement probably put a lot of strain on the family, sweetheart. It has to be hard on them knowing that you're marrying your brother. But whatever you want to do with your life, kiddo. Congratulations! Coni: Huh? No, I'm not—

Persephone interrupts Coni by grasping her arm, and shaking her head, giving her a "it's not worth it," expression. Coni accepts the message with another polite smile.

Persephone: So, what did you come out here for?

An eager squirrel unexpectedly bounds from a nearby cabinet onto Coni's shoulder, startling her. The squirrel chirps angrily as Gwendolyn tears it from Coni's flannel. Gwendolyn: ABDULLAH, YOU IMBECILE! Persephone: [Shouting] GWENDOLYN, IF YOU CAN'T KEEP HIM IN ORDER I'M TAKING MY SQUIRREL BACK TO HENFORD. AND DON'T CALL HIM NAMES!!!

Gwendolyn: [Snuggling squirrel that struggles to get away] It's okay, I didn't mean it. Shhh. I am so sorry about that, dear. Sometimes his mind gets a little... fractured. He's currently breastfeeding, it brings out the worst in him.

Coni, a known genius: [Stares blankly at Gwendolyn for a split second, puzzled] ...Oh. I um... I was hoping you could tell me more about your cousin, Mortimer Goth? But more specifically, his wife, Bella... Gwendolyn: Oh! Yes! Yes of course. Bella! Actually, I have a box of some of her things. Let me go get it! Persephone, get her something to drink. Don't be rude!

Gwendolyn and Abdullah ascend the stairs to retrieve the box. Once out of sight, Persephone guides Coni to the kitchen to get her a glass of water.

Persephone: She's a little mixed up, if you couldn't tell. She thought you were Coraleye. Coni: [Tucks a strand of hair behind her ears] Yeah, I thought so.

Persephone: With that being said, she's gonna go on some of her famous Darling tangents, don't say I didn't warn you. [Runs faucet]

Coni: That's fine with me. I'd rather not be home for a while.

[theharddeck]

your love is the love I need || chapter 1/4

pairing: javy machado x femme reader (no y/n), callsign Cross

summary: Cross and Javy are very good friends. Javy might've let it slip to his mother that they're more. A little fake dating never hurt anyone, right?

warnings: 18+, minors please DNI – no smut in this chapter (there defs will be in later chapters, and I never want someone to be caught off guard) but there is an attempted roofie-ing in this chapter.

length: 6.2k

A/N: literally the biggest shoutout in the WORLD to @daggerspare-standingbystandingby for talking me off a ledge, and also line editing, and also depth. @bradshawsbitch and @laracrofted thank you for always brainstorming with me 💙

Saturday

“Cross, get in here; I need a stand-in.”

You’d been looking for a glass for your cherry coke in cabinets at the Miramar Family Center, but at Hangman’s call, you grabbed a straw and jogged back over to the pool table. Bob folded a napkin and slid it across the table as you got closer and you smiled at him gratefully before setting the sweating can down on it.

“Tapping out already, Hangman?” Phoenix asked from across the table, where she was wiping chalk over the end of her pool cue. 

“You and Avalone wish,” Jake drawled, smiling wanly at the group. “Nah, I’ve got to pick something up; I’ll be right back.”

He tossed his pool cue at you without looking and you considered letting it clatter to the ground, but you grabbed it out of the air, trying not to read into the gesture too much. 

You were a recent addition to the squad; when Fanboy had decided he wanted to try piloting again, they’d needed a WSO to fly with Payback. Having only been a teammate for a couple months, you were still finding your footing with the group. Everyone had been welcoming, of course, but there were times that you felt the little idioms and questions were a type of test. Tests that you were determined to pass, not just for the sake of assimilation, but because this was a team you were genuinely proud to be a part of, and you wanted them to know it. 

“Am I solid or stripes?” you asked, looking down at the table, confused by the seeming lack of structure on the felt.

“We’re playing cutthroat,” Payback said, looking after Hangman with a grimace, for not giving you any context.

“We’re 11-15,” Coyote said, because of course he and Jake had been a team. He swiped the chalk that Phoenix had been using, and as he dropped it into your palm, his fingertips brushed yours. You tried to ignore it, it was just an accidental brush, but your skin prickled anyway, and you looked away quickly.

“1-5,” Phoenix cut in, pointing between her and Fritz. 

“6-10,” Payback finished, lifting a fist in Bob’s direction, as the WSO held up a clenched hand obediently.

“Cool,” you said, deciding if you wanted to take on the pilot who held your life in his hands any time you got in the back of an F/A-18, or Phoenix. 

Which, honestly, wasn’t even a question.

You surveyed the felt once more, before seeing a clear shot for the 9 ball, walking around the table to take it, and shooting Bob an apologetic look as the ball clattered into the pocket.

“I knew I liked you,” Natasha cooed.

“Yeah, I don’t know why we bother,” Payback sighed to Bob, who shrugged, both of them good-naturedly.

“Atta girl,” Coyote crowed, and Phoenix nodded approvingly and you grinned at her, rather than risk looking at him. Not with the butterflies that erupted in your stomach at his completely platonic praise. You were on the same team, it was nothing more than that, and now was so not the time for your relentless crush to make an appearance.

Pool wasn’t really your game, and you weren’t at all surprised when you botched the next shot, flustered by the nearly six feet of Abercrombie model at your shoulder. You backed away from the table as Billy stepped up, apparently next in order. 

You swiped your soda from the table by Bob, crossing the room to perch on the side of a sofa and wait for your turn again, or Jake’s reappearance, whichever came first. 

Your eyes flitted over to Javy, as they always seemed to, when you weren’t actively trying not to. It wasn’t your fault he was magnetic. 

All easy smiles and broad shoulders, deep protectiveness and unabashed confidence, just as good as Hangman and Rooster and Phoenix, less likely to call attention to it. The way he’d look deep at whoever was talking to him, nodding along as he gave them his full attention. 

At present, that person was Phoenix, and Javy’s shoulders dipped as he hunched his back slightly, to get closer and hear her better. You played with the end of your pool stick, watching as their heads tilted together, quietly commenting on the table as Fritz lined up a shot.

“It’s a statistical impossibility, right?” Halo whispered, appearing next to you on the couch. “For them to be that pretty and that good of pilots?”

You followed her gaze to the trio around the table and shook your head, agreeing. 

“The worst part of it,” you mumbled back, “is that they have the audacity to be decent people, so we can’t even do the easy thing and dislike them for being perfect.”

Halo clicked her tongue against her teeth, fiddling with the plastic cap of a water bottle. 

“That’s why they need us,” she mused. “You, me, and Bob: subverting expectations as gorgeous backseaters.”

You snorted, before Callie’s words registered, and you looked over at her, your voice teasing when you asked, “Bob, huh?”

She shrugged lightly, even as a pretty flush bloomed on her cheeks.

“Completely impartially, of course,” she said, sheepishly. You smiled reassuringly, bumping her shoulder with yours, and she tilted her head as she looked back at the table. 

“How’s that view from your glass house?” she asked, sweetly, making you nearly choke on your soda when you saw she was looking pointedly at Coyote. 

“Is it that obvious?” you asked.

“I mean, it was a guess, but that just confirmed it,” Callie smiled broadly, before sighing again. “I think crushes on other pilots is the particular curse of Wizzos—we know better, but we think we’re smart enough to get around it.”

“I’ll drink to that,” you muttered, bumping your soda can into her water bottle, memory taking you back a couple months to a night just like this one. 

It was your first day in San Diego; you’d caught an early flight and were able to move into your off-base apartment and walk around North Island for a bit, exploring before you’d meet your detachment the following morning. As the sun sank over the Pacific, you walked along the beach, enjoying the warm sand and cooling air. You could hear a piano in the distance, something you assumed was the effect of a bluetooth speaker until you realized it came from a bar a little farther down the beach, and you redirected your footsteps towards it. 

The Hard Deck smelled like sweat and good beer, and you clocked a couple different types of badges as you scanned the room. There was a good chance someone here would recognize you tomorrow, so you asked for a coke from the older man behind the bar, settling on a stool and looking around.

There was a man with a mustache and aviators (Indoors. At night.) at the piano, his head cocked back as he worked through the greatest hits of the 60s. Beside him, a stunning woman in a tight bun stood shoulder-to-shoulder with an impossibly tall man, also with a mustache, both of them singing along enthusiastically. A pool table was nearby, a couple more uniforms draped across it, and two men were playing darts against the wall closest to you.

Well, one of them was playing darts. 

The blond man was clearly in his element, sinking bullseye after bullseye, and the man beside him seemed content enough to let him play it out. It wasn’t so much a competition, as it was one man showboating, and his friend humoring him.

The louder of the two was making jokes about his odds, calling shots before he took them, and every now and then his partner would quietly say something that would make his shoulders laugh enough to miss his shot. Their conversation faded into the noise of the bar as you turned on your stool, looking around you. When you came back to the bartop, you noticed a man sidling up to a younger girl a couple stools down from you. 

She was rebuffing him as gently as she could, and he seemed to be taking it pretty well—until she turned to chat with someone over her shoulder, and he dropped something in her drink while she was preoccupied. 

Your jaw dropped; that’d been clear as day. But the bar was crowded, and she’d been distracted by her friends, and your heart lurched when she reached back for her drink without paying attention. 

“Hey, wait!” you called down the bar, and she turned to look at you. Along with the half of the bar, you assumed, but you slid off the seat rather than check and see how much of an audience you had. The girl frowned at you, an unfamiliar face yelling at her, but whatever she saw in your expression held her attention for the moment it took you to get down to her. 

“Sorry,” you said, quietly as you could, when you got closer to her. “I didn’t want to make a scene, but he definitely put something in your drink.”

“Oh my gosh,” the girl set the drink down on the bar, glaring at the man. “What the hell, you creep!!”

“I didn’t—,” the man’s face flushed, and he looked angrily at you before at the people around him, placatingly. “Hold on, you can’t just go around accusing—”

“It’s not an accusation if it’s true,” you said, turning to the bartender. “Are you the owner?”

He shook his head, looking over your shoulder at some of the other patrons, then set down the tap he was pouring. “I’ll get Penny.”

“Now, hang on Jimmy,” the creep sputtered. “I-I didn’t do anything, you can’t prove I—”

“Drink it, then.”

Everyone turned at the deep voice, as someone else stepped towards the bar. You recognized one of the men from the dartboard, the quiet one, and he crossed his arms as he came up behind you. 

The creep’s expression paled as he took in the tall frame of the pilot behind you. “I mean, it’s her drink, I’m not–”

The girl slid her drink down the bartop, in front of the man. “Go on.”

A door slammed in the back of the bar and a moment later, a slim brunette woman let herself behind the counter. She stalked behind the bar, looking sharply at you. 

“You saw it?” she asked.

You nodded, and her jaw ticked. She planted her hands on the bar, looking the creep clearly in the face, like she was memorizing it, before she covered the drink with saran wrap and handed it behind her to Jimmy. 

“You’re gonna wait in my office until the police get here,” she told the man, her voice level. “And when you leave with them, you will not set foot in this bar again. Understood?”

“Police?” the man echoed, his eyes going wide. “Hold on, this is all getting blown out of proportion, all I did was—”

Penny jerked her head to the side, and you felt a hand on your shoulder for a moment as the quiet pilot brushed by you to reach for the creep. The blond man was with him, suddenly, and they unceremoniously hauled the creep away from the bar.

Penny pursed her lips together, looking meaningfully over at the piano, and a moment later, some Elvis song was playing through the bar. Penny checked in with the girl, pulled some receipt paper out of the printer and had her write down her contact information, in case the police wanted to follow up with her. She waved you down as well, and you came over. 

“Don’t think we’ve met before,” she said brusquely, holding a hand across the bar. “I’m Penny.”

“Nice to meet you,” you said, shaking her extended hand and giving her your name. “You handled that really well.”

Her jaw clenched again, as she shook her head. “Hate that I have to handle it at all. Thanks for saying something; what’re you drinking tonight? It’s on the house.”

“Oh, thanks,” you shook your head, pointing to your abandoned coke, “but I’m not drinking; I have an early day tomorrow.”

Penny hummed, looking you over. You had the uncanny feeling that, even without your uniform, she somehow knew you were Navy, which detachment you were in, and—given another minute or two—she could guess your callsign. 

“Better get your information too,” she said, sliding the receipt paper down the bar, “in case they want a statement from you. Include your CO; I can probably put a good word in edgewise.”

You scribbled your information down, wondering what ties she had to the Navy, but not doubting for a moment that they were strong. Her mouth twitched as she read over what you’d written, blooming into a full smile as she looked up at you.  

“Well, that’ll be easier than I thought,” she said, almost to herself, before walking over to the tap to pour you another coke. “So, what brings you to North Island?”

You chatted with her until the police came and she excused herself to go deal with them. You were finishing your coke when you realized the two pilots were back by the dartboard, the blond one having sunk three bullseyes and performing what appeared to be a victory shimmy.  

He looked like a Ken doll, like someone had manufactured him in a Mattel factory, then turned him to life and told him he could do anything a real boy could do. 

You laughed to yourself at his antics, and watched while the quiet one collected the darts and took his stance for his turn. His first dart landed on double 16—solid, except it couldn’t beat 3 bullseyes.

You’d wanted to thank him for helping out before Penny got there, and this was as good a chance as any, so you hopped off the barstool and crossed towards the darts wall.

“Hey,” you said, inelegant but effective, appearing behind the two of them, turning to look at you in surprise. “May I?”

The blond man made a sound in the back of his throat like he was both shocked and thrilled by your presence, and he nodded like of course you could butt in. You looked over at the quieter one, trying to pretend he wasn’t the most beautiful person you’d seen in your life. 

They’d both looked great from a distance, but up close, he was somehow even prettier, and as you looked at him, the corners of his mouth turned up in a hint of a smile. It was like he liked the weight of your eyes, which was terribly flattering, and you found yourself wanting to smile back. You looked away quickly, back to Ken Doll, thinking about the accent you’d heard in his bragging earlier. 

“Texas?” you asked, to distract yourself.

He raised an eyebrow. “Six generations back.”

You hummed, before holding out a hand to the quiet one. 

“The lady will shoot for her own hand,” Ken Doll said, like he was quoting something, a laugh in his voice as you felt two darts drop into your palm. 

“Pick that up from Medieval Times?” you asked.

“Brave, actually,” he muttered, before smiling sheepishly, “my sister’s kids love that movie.” 

“What do they call you?” you asked, turning the darts over in your hands. It was a guess, but the way his eyebrows raised slightly when he registered the cadence of your question confirmed you were right.

“Hangman,” he said, lifting his chin over your shoulder. “That’s Coyote.”

You looked over at him. “Hey.”

He smiled, slow and easy, and you looked away before you messed up your shot. You focused, let it go, and Coyote whistled. 

“Triple 20,” he said.

“Triple 20,” you agreed, looking back at Hangman. “Want to see it again?”

Hangman’s eyes narrowed as he did the quick mental math, and beside you, Coyote crossed his arms across his chest, laughing quietly. It was a warm sound, and tempted though you were to turn and see it, you let go of the last dart and watched as it landed next to your first. 

“Look at that; Coyote wins,” you wiped your hands on your jeans, smiling at a shocked Hangman.

“Damn,” he said quietly, then grinned. “I like you; you can stay.”

You snorted as he strolled lazily across to the board to pull out the darts, before you turned to look at Coyote, who was watching you already. He had deep brown eyes, eyes that looked kind, like they laughed easy, like they didn’t miss much. 

“Anyways,” you said, apropos of nothing, clearing your throat. “I came over here to say thanks for backing me up at the bar.”

Something like surprise flashed across his face before he could stop it. He shrugged like anyone would’ve done it, like it was nothing special to believe women, to support a stranger the same way he’d supported his friend all evening, and in that moment—before he knew who you were, before you knew his actual name, before you’d spoken more than a dozen words to the man—you fell hard for Javy Machado. 

“Bob, you’re killing me,” Payback groaned, and you jerked out of the memory. Apparently, Fritz’s turn was done, Bob biffed it, and Phoenix lifted her hand in an “after you” gesture as Coyote stepped up to the table. 

He walked slowly, and you tried to be impartial like Callie’d said, but it was damn hard when his shoulders filled out his khakis like that. He walked a slow circle, frowning at the spread and you shifted the pool cue in your own hands, telling yourself to stop staring and continuing to do just that.

“Duckie,” a soft voice called across the room, “if you don’t take the shot already, we’re going to be here all night.” 

Javy dropped the pool cue with a clatter, turning to find the voice. You spotted Jake the same time everybody else did, his chest puffed out proudly as he escorted an older woman on his arm. She wore warm gray senegalese twists, dangling turquoise earrings and a wide smile you’d recognize anywhere.

“Momma?” Javy asked softly, then a grin split his face as he sprinted across the room. His mother opened her arms as Javy rushed into them, carefully bending his tall frame to enfold her, before straightening and spinning her around. Their laughter echoed around the room and a couple claps of applause went up. 

Jake slapped a hand on Javy’s back as he stepped around them, walking over to the pool table to give them a minute together. Phoenix smiled lightly at him, a soft thing that you doubted any of you were meant to see, before she cleared her throat, looking back at you.

“See, this is why we put up with him being an asshole as much as he is,” she told you, shaking her head at Jake. “He’ll leave you out as bait if it gets him a shot at a bandit, but he’ll remember your mother’s birthday, burn his visitor passes, and fly her across the country to surprise you.”

“Take it easy, Nat,” Jake said lightly, resting his knuckles on the pool table and surveying the game’s progress since he’d stepped away. “You’ll ruin my reputation.”

Phoenix shook her head before lining up her next shot, and Jake pushed away from the table to come stand next to where you and Halo were seated on the couch.

You bumped his shoulder with yours as you both looked back across the center, where Javy and his mom were walking arm-and-arm towards your group.

“That was awful sweet of you,” you told him quietly, not wanting to “ruin his reputation” as he put it. 

“The fact that you don’t sound surprised means Phoenix’s lies are taking root,” Jake muttered, but you heard the pride in his voice; he was pleased with himself for pulling this off.

You looked away from the pair over to Jake, who held out a hand for you to hand him his pool cue. You passed it to him, tipping your head, holding onto the other end of it.

“So there was absolutely no altruism involved in reuniting your best friend with his mom?”

“You wound me, Cross,” Jake said drily, but he lifted his chin at Javy’s mother, who was smiling broadly up at her son, her eyes shining as she patted at his uniform proudly. “Give it a sec; let’s see if it pays off.”  

You weren’t sure what that meant, but you felt your expression turn soft at the clear fondness between Javy and his mother; somehow you always knew he’d be a momma’s boy. Her neck was craned at a sharp angle to look up at him, but both of their smiles were wide as they broke into the group. 

“Guys,” Javy said, his voice nearly giddy, “this is my mom. Momma, this is the group. We’ve got Payback, Bob, Phoenix, Fritz—I guess you already know Jake—Halo, and Cross.”

You all smiled and waved as Javy pointed you out to his mother, and her kind eyes followed Javy’s hand around the circle. You thought you might’ve imagined they lingered a little longer on you, but then her smile grew wider as she looked back at Javy. She elbowed him, then looked back at you.

“Now, Javy,” she chided gently, “I know that’s not how you introduce me to your girlfriend.”

The group stilled, and Jake pulled in a deep breath through his nose, his own smile turning decidedly smug as he pushed away from you, taking the cue with him. 

“And there’s your answer, Cross,” he said out of the side of his mouth, going over to the pool table and lining up a shot.

You wet your lips as your eyes darted from Mrs Machado up to Javy. 

His expression was a strange mix of shocked, mortified, and pleading, and you weren’t sure what Jake had done to land the both of you in this predicament, but you knew you weren’t about to spoil this reunion for Javy.

“Mrs. Machado,” you smiled, pushing away from the couch to come and hug her. “I’m so excited to get to meet you.”

Of course, she hugged like an angel. 

She was just a little shorter than you, and she held you like you were something precious she was excited to have in her arms. When you pulled back, her hands settled on your elbows and she beamed up at you. 

“Oh, aren’t you just the loveliest,” she smiled, and her voice sounded like the happiest thing. “You know, I told him, I did, when he started talking about the newest wiz—oh, what is that abbreviation?”

“WSO,” the group chorused.

“WSO,” Mrs. Machado nodded, grateful for the prompt. “Yes, well, when he started talking about you, I asked him if you were a nice young lady, and he insisted that you were just friends, but I just knew, you kept coming up in conversation and, well, I knew it was something more. And then sweet Jacob…”

She broke off to smile kindly at Hangman, and when you looked over your shoulder, Callie and Natasha had cornered him threateningly, but he looked too smug to be intimidated. Under Mrs. Machado’s eyes, they smiled charmingly, but their stance didn’t change. You appreciated them coming to your defense, but it did make you wonder how many people seemed to know about your crush.

“Yeah, sweet Jacob,” Payback deadpanned from the other side of the table, before assuming his role as Resident Adult of the squad. “Mrs. Machado, can we get you something to drink? I know lines at the base access point can be awful, maybe a glass of water?”

“Oh!” Mrs. Machado looked between Reuben and the kitchen, then at you. You smiled reassuringly, pulling your arms free from her. 

“I’ll be here,” you said, then reached over without looking, turning away. “Hey, Jay, can I have a word?”

“Yep, figured,” Javy muttered, as your hand closed on the lapel of his khakis, pulling him after you. 

“You both are doing my push ups after the next of Mav’s drills,” Payback hissed under his breath as your paths crossed.

“Done,” you said quickly.

“For sure,” Javy said, stumbling slightly as he tried to follow your shorter stride as you pulled him to a corner of the Family Center. You figured the group would be watching you so you turned your back to them, pulling Javy to stand in front of you.

“Wait, you’re his backseater,” Javy smoothed down his lapel, frowning over your shoulder in Reuben’s direction. “If he’s doing them, you are too, and 400 pushups isn’t—”

“You’ve got, like, 15 seconds to tell me why your mom thinks I’m your girlfriend.”

You probably could’ve handled it with more finesse, or at least not interrupted him. 

Javy’s hand came up to rub the back of his neck; if you didn’t know better, you’d say he was nervous, but there’s no way that was real, so you just waited on his explanation. 

“Okay, so she means well, my mom, but every time we talked, she’d be asking about if I’d met a nice girl, or telling me how one of her friends had a kid in town, that I should meet up with or—”

“15 seconds,” you reiterated, trusting in Reuben’s vamping ability, but the man was only mortal. 

“Right,” Javy swallowed. “Uh, so it’s just…one day she was just going on and on, and I said I’d asked someone out, and she wanted to know who and you were the first person I thought of.”

You blinked.

“Not like that, not like I’d planned on asking you out or something,” Javy rushed to say, which shouldn’t have stung as much as it did, but damn. He must’ve realized how that sounded, too, because he winced. “I mean, not like that, it was just the easiest lie that she’d believe and she was never supposed to be here and meet you and—”

You crossed your arms over your chest, eyes narrowing as you looked up at him. “How do you think this is going?”

“Yeah, not great,” Javy mumbled, his hand falling to his side.

“Awesome,” you muttered. “So now that we’ve established how it’s just a matter of me being the easiest lie, you didn’t want her to meet me, and you wouldn’t actually ask me out—”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Javy said stubbornly, even though it was what he’d just said. He looked frustrated, and you couldn’t tell if it was towards your reaction or something else but when he opened his mouth, the words got stuck, because he just sighed.

Javy drew in a deep breath, looking over your shoulder. You knew when his eyes landed on his mom, because his whole face softened, and his shoulders drooped slightly. 

“Tell me this,” you said, weighing your words carefully, “is this for her or for you?”

“For her,” he said, with conviction, and when he looked back at you, your heart skipped a beat at the look in his eyes. It was honest and deep, something selfless and that scared him too, and you believed him. 

“She gets worried about me,” he explained. “What she and my dad have is special…when me or my siblings don’t have that, she gets worried. Like, it’s something she prays for. I know she’s proud of me and my career and all that, but I think a part of her will always think something’s missing, unless I’m with someone.”

You looked over your shoulder to find Mrs. Machado in the kitchen, smiling happily at Rueben as he made her some tea. She had this aura of comfort around her, that of being loved and known, and wanting it for everyone around her. It wasn’t an energy you were super familiar with, but you could understand that it would be heavy for someone like Javy to bear.

And this was a terrible idea—you were gonna embarrass yourself at the least, potentially break your own heart at the worst—but you couldn’t say no.

“Okay,” you sighed. “So, how do we do this?”

Javy’s eyes closed for a moment in relief, and for a second you thought he was going to reach for you, but then he held himself steady, his hands clenching at his sides.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. 

You nodded, already regretting this, knowing if you could do it again, you’d choose the same result, every time.

“Yeah,” you said, rubbing at your temples briefly before looking back up at him. “Um, I guess, how much do you want me around? I’m sure you guys want time for just the two of you.”

Javy seemed to think it over. “I’ll probably take her to dinner tonight—she’ll invite you, but I think we can get you out of it. If…do you want to do breakfast tomorrow?”

Somewhere a trickster god was chortling, thrilled by Javy asking a question you’d never expected to hear, and in an entirely different context.

“I can do breakfast,” you said. 

“Great,” Javy said, a full smile growing. “God, thank you. Great.” 

And somewhere that same trickster god rolled their eyes, because you were a simpleton who’d do any number of ridiculous things to see that smile again. 

Javy squeezed your shoulder lightly, moving to go around you before stopping himself and stepping back.  

“You’ve never called me ‘Jay’ before,” he said, his expression curious.

And you hadn’t, never aloud. But in your texts to your girlfriends back home, you referred to him by his initial, just in case someone ever stole your phone.

“Yeah, well," you deferred, "Duckie was taken, so…”

Javy’s nose wrinkled as he tried not to laugh, and there it was, that smile again.  

“I had a stuffed duck, when I was a kid,” he explained. “Took it everywhere with me, like some kids have their blankets…Momma always told me she loved me like I loved that duck, and it kind of stuck.”

“That’s adorable,” you said, honest. 

Javy waved a hand, like it wasn’t anything, and then he looked back at you.

“I like it,” he said, something different in his voice. “Jay.”

You weren’t sure what to say to that, so you pressed your lips together and shrugged. Javy looked at you for a moment, then he tilted his head towards the group. You turned with him, following him back to the group, telling yourself it was going to be fine. 

Of course, that was until Mrs. Machado insisted that they drive you home. 

Thankfully, you were able to convince her to take the passenger seat, so as Mrs. Machado and Javy talked quietly, the soft music on the speakers kept their conversation from reaching you in the backseat. You leaned your head against the glass of the window, trying to recall the cross streets from memory, rather than think too hard about any part of tonight. The car was in park for a minute before you realized it was idling in front of your apartment. 

“Oh, sorry,” you said quickly, sliding off your seatbelt and leaning forward to brush Mrs. Machado’s shoulder lightly, “it was so great to meet you. Thanks for driving me home.”

“Of course,” she beamed over her shoulder at you, reaching back to catch your hand in hers, and squeezing. “I’m so glad we’ll get to visit more tomorrow.”

You smiled back, then let go of her, sliding down to the seat to the door. As you unfolded yourself out of the backseat, Javy’s hand appeared on the car door, holding it open for you as you climbed out. He shut it behind you, walking beside you towards the door of your apartment. 

You looked up at him out of the side of your eye. 

People shouldn’t be pretty from this angle but he was. The moonlight seemed to highlight his long lashes, and the soft shadow they cast over his face.  

“You don’t have to walk me,” you said under your breath, once you were out of hearing range of the car. 

“Nah,” Javy said, his voice lower rather than quieter. “Momma knows I’d walk my girl to the door.”

It wasn’t a long walk up the driveway, but you seemed aware of every step. Or maybe the world just froze when Javy said my girl. 

You glanced over at him again, admiring the way he looked perfectly at ease, his hands tucked into his pockets, steps slow to match your pace. You thought about how sweet his mother was, how excited she’d been at the prospect of spending time with you tomorrow. She was probably watching from the car now, and it did somewhat soothe the guilt in your chest, knowing that someone else had set a precedent for her, and she wouldn’t be too disappointed when her son calmly told her you had broken up.

“That’s good that she’s met others,” you said, climbing the first step to your porch, “it’s less intimidating to know I just have to be an average.”

Javy made a soft sound, something between a hum and an exhale, shoulders rising slightly in a shrug. “Actually, you’re the first since the Academy.”   

You stopped on the step, turning to find Javy watching you closely. With the added height, the two of you were almost eye level, and your stomach flipped. His brown eyes seemed to glitter, something soft like starlight in them.

“But you said…” you trailed off, realizing Javy had said it was how he would be, not how he’d been. “Literally how is that possible?” 

Javy smiled easily, looking back at the car, then back at you as he lifted his chin. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment.”

You smiled back, you couldn’t not, even as you shook your head, despite the heat crawling up your neck because you didn’t realize you’d said that out loud. He was too bright to leave you unaffected, so you stood there on the step, smiling like a fool at a man who somehow had no idea how much of a marvel he was.

Which is when you realized you were staring again.

“Well,” you said, looking away, taking another step up the porch, “thanks again for the ride home. And walking me up here, and I guess…I’m gonna go inside.”

“Oh,” Javy said it quietly, like he hadn’t meant to, like you’d surprised him. He nodded, and you waited for him to say something else, as he looked over his shoulder at the car, but then his easy smile was back again. “Yeah, no worries. Actually, thank you, right?”

You were pretty sure the moonlight was playing tricks on you. 

Because there was something in Javy’s expression that you hadn’t seen before, something that looked like uncertainty, something almost like wondering. The extra step put you almost taller than him, your faces closer than you’d expected. Javy blinked slowly, his gaze darting down to your mouth before he stepped back a half pace, like he’d remembered something. 

It had to be the moonlight, or you were seeing things.

But you were the first person that’d come to mind when he’d needed a lie, and that had to count for something, right, and he’d looked for a moment like he was trying to think of a reason to keep you on the porch.

You reached for him, your fingers curling around the back of his neck and the slightest pull was enough for him to take back that half step, then more, closer, which was enough for you to know it wasn’t just the moon, and you kissed him.

Or you meant to.

The moment your lips brushed against his, Javy’s hands were on your waist, his long fingers spreading across your lower back, his body heat seemingly burning through the thin fabric of your shirt, like he needed to hold onto you. And then you weren’t kissing him, because he was kissing you, something that you couldn’t quite believe was happening. It was slow and soft and absolutely devastating, as unrealistically perfect as only Javy could be.

And then it was over, just as quickly as it had happened.

Javy’s lips lifted from yours, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before he pulled back entirely. Still two steps down, you liked how he looked, looking up at you.

“I’ll wait till you get inside,” Javy asked softly, his voice like velvet, and you nodded, very uncertain if you could find words. You rested a hand on his shoulder to lean down to wave at the car, and Mrs. Machado, who was practically beaming back at you, before letting go and walking up to unlock the door. You let yourself in, turning just inside the frame to find Javy still watching you.

“Night, Jay,” you said. 

Javy’s lips parted at the nickname, then he smiled at you, bright as the noonday sun. 

“Night, Cross,” he said. His hands were in his pockets and he took a step back from you, waiting for you to shut the door. You did, leaning your back up against it, and waited for the sounds of the car starting and them driving away. 

Now, what the hell had that been about? And, more importantly, how were you supposed to survive tomorrow?

//

next chapter

taglist: @peakyrogers @mxgyver @princessphilly @hangmanbrainrot @wildbornsiren @roosterforme @blowmymbackout @datemephoenix @fuckyeahhangman @lt-bradshaw @double-j @callsignvalley @sebsxphia @javihoney @jadore-andor @rosiahills22 @andrewrussgarfield @teacupsandtopgun i don't have a coyote list yet bc this is my first writing for him, so if any of you folks would like to be not included, please do let me know!

[mariacallous]

When you think of Jewish alcohol, Manischewitz (for better or worse) probably comes to mind. But slivovitz — a liquor with a forceful flavor and formidable strength — is arguably the Hebrew hooch. 

Slivovitz, whose name is derived from the slavic word sliv for “damson plum,” is made by fermenting plums, distilling the mash to 80-100 proof alcohol, then aging the resulting liqueur for up to 10 years in oak barrels. Slivovitz is largely produced in Central and Eastern Europe, where different countries create their own variants. In the Czech Republic, for example, slivovitz (in Czech, slivovice) is considered the national drink of the region of Moravia and is served at room temperature in small shot glasses known as a panák. In Bulgaria, slivovitz holds special religious importance having been distilled for nearly seven centuries by members of Troyan Monastery. The monks’ special blend is made from Madzharkini plums, a variety that grows only in the Troyan region and is distinctive for its easily extracted pits.

Although grains are introduced during some forms of the slivovitz fermentation process, some distillers decided to forgo this step as a means of ensuring the liqueur was kosher. This gesture rendered slivovitz initially attractive to Jews during Passover, specifically Seder dinners that traditionally called for the consumption of up to four glasses of wine. Unfortunately, local wines were often made alongside other spirits under non-kosher conditions and thus were unacceptable. And because, as Dr. Glenn Dynner, professor of Jewish studies at Sarah Lawrence College, points out, imported kosher wine was often prohibitively expensive and of limited availability, Jews gravitated toward slivovitz on such celebratory occasions. 

But its kashrut status alone is an insufficient reason why slivovitz is considered particularly, or even especially, Jewish. According to University of Pittsburgh professor and slivovitz historian, Dr. Martin Votruba, “Jews would acquire this local drink after moving into European kingdoms. They would simply pick it up as part of the culture.” It seems, however, their relationship with slivovitz became more purposeful during the 1800s in what is now Poland. Because they were considered relatively temperate compared to their countrymen, Jews were charged with operating drinking halls and taverns, and thus began to monopolize the liquor business, much of which revolved around slivovitz. 

Another explanation as to why slivovitz holds a special place in the Jewish cultural imaginary is its strong anecdotal association with Jewish men of an older generation. In the 1990 film “Avalon,” which chronicles the trials and tribulations of a Polish Jewish immigrant family at the turn of the 20th century, brothers Sam and Gabriel reminisce about their father: 

“He never drank water. And oh, boy, could he drink! What was that stuff called he always used to drink?’ ‘Slivovitz. Slivovitz. He used to call it, ‘Block and fall.’ You have one drink of that, you walk one block and you fall!” 

Similarly, food writer Jordan Hoffman recalls his father describing how a swig of slivovitz (which they called ‘Shleeve-O-Wits’) by Hoffman’s grandfather signaled the breaking the Yom Kippur fast: 

“… they’d peer out of the apartment window, waiting to spot him walking back from the synagogue. He’d take his sweet time, pull off his coat and hat, open a rarely used cabinet, blow the dust off an old bottle, take a sip of something, make a face, then announce that everyone could eat.”

As evinced by both accounts, slivovitz is not for the faint of heart and for some years, the caustic, bitter spirit fell out of favor. There are signs that slivovitz is slowly becoming back en vogue: restaurants, including New York’s renowned Kafana, serve slivovitz and a handful of distillers, such as Stone Barn Brandy Works, are producing their own new-fangled versions. And fans of the enormously popular series “Homeland” will attest that it’s the drink of choice for the character of Senator Andrew Lockhart.  

Slivovitz’ nostalgic appeal combined with the introduction of new, more palatable varieties means it has some real so-old-school-it’s-cool potential. And who knows — the coming year may have us all slugging slivovitz slingers rather than espresso martinis.

[paceprompting]

Next three squares for @ficreadingchallenge! Also, a little design change for the squares so that I can see them better.

Square Completed: Future AU

A kick to the teeth is good for some (a kiss with a fist is better than none)

E | Complete | 1/1 | 2.8K | Steddie

Steve loves Eddie so much. Light of his life, best thing that ever happened to him, literal-heart-on-his-sleeve, twin-fucking-flames, and all that. But still. They were human. So, inevitably there were still Things about Eddie that, when Steve was in a good mood, tended to skew more quirky and adorable (the Eddie Munson wheelhouse all dressed up in leather and chains. Steve’s literal favorite thing) —but, when he was in a bad mood — they kind of made Steve want to go full on Cuckoo’s Nest (which is a reference he’s allowed to make now, because now he’s actually read the book — one of Dustin's insane rules but that was so fucking beside the point).

Right now, it was the fact that he’s standing here in the kitchen at 1 am on a Saturday night and staring up at their empty kitchen cabinets, and their empty dishwasher, and wondering where the fuck all the goddamn cups were.

~*~*~*~

Square Completed: Omegaverse AU

lift me up

E | Complete | 1/1 | 3.8K | Stucky

Steve worries that Bucky preferred his smaller, more Omega-appropriate body to the new, bigger, more Alpha-like body of Captain America.

Bucky finds that thought utterly ridiculous.

**I haven't read stucky in such a long time. This was nice**

~*~*~*~

Sqaure Completed: Magic

Awake

E | Complete | 1/1 | 50K | Merthur

King Arthur sleeps in Avalon, waiting to return at the hour of Albion's greatest need. But once a year he awakes and spends a single day with Merlin, who will never, ever leave him.

**What, you thought I'd get this trope and I wasn't going to read something from Merlin? Preposterous.**

[birdyverdie]

I dropped my phone on my cheekbone last Monday and it left a nasty bruise so I've been telling the most outlandish stories everytime someone asks

Right now my favorite is that Avalon did it by dropping a toy from the top of a cabinet

[sims-realty]

welcome to desert springs, the newest and most premiere lot in beautiful oasis springs. with its iconic butterfly roof and exquisite landscaping, the exterior of the home immediately catches your eye. enjoy the incredible mature cactus and succulent garden in the front yard that provides a natural barrier between your expansive front porch and pool entertainment area, with vintage pink terracotta tiles salvaged from a local home original to the area prior to its demolition on a lot nearby. a landscaped palm oasis welcomes you to the expansive backyard that separates the main house from the greenhouse. because of its humidity control, the greenhouse makes an excellent home for all of your exotic plants and gardening hobbies while also providing space for an office or art studio.

just inside the custom glass doors and windows, you'll be blown away by the custom built-in cabinet that separates the curated entryway (lit by a a truly unique - confirmed one-of-a-kind - chandelier) from the large living room designed for gatherings. the 360-degree fireplace anchors the living room and provides heat to the entire house on those chilly 55-degree desert evenings. custom accordion glass doors separate the living room and kitchen that also features the salvaged pink terracotta tiles. a handmade dining table gifted to the home's original owner by the artist natsukashii herself comes with the home and is highlighted by the second of the home's bespoke lighting fixtures. one thing this home doesn't lack is natural sunlight. from your kitchen enjoy the most beautiful view of your backyard oasis, filled with lavender bushes, cacti and palm trees.

this home features two bedrooms and one bathroom, recently remodeled. the guest bedroom features a cozy sitting area perfect for the bookworm in your family, without lacking adequate closet space. custom bed and shelving seamlessly flow together, making this bedroom an aesthetic retreat.

when you walk through the door adjacent to the guest bedroom, you'll take in the walk-through closet which opens to an expansive primary bedroom featuring a lounge area, natsukashii custom bed and living shelving. the primary bed looks out onto the back patio and a break in the sleek concrete and wood fence surrounding the property allows for uninterrupted south-facing mountain views. living shelving moves out from the primary bedroom onto the patio as well, ensuring that you're never far from green in this home.

desert springs is open for showings now, but don't delay because this gem won't be on the market for long. make this home your oasis in oasis springs.

cc used:

SYB: Fency, Astrid, Nathalie, Dreamy, Julie, Maya, Natsukashii, Laundry, Millenial, Pauline, Sabine, Manon, Diane, Cecile, Nothing to Wear, Agnes, Brigitte, Sophie, Elodie, Rosalie, Oceane, How About Tea

SIMcredible: Advent Calendar 2022, Vocatio, Agreste, Veranda, Amazonica, Emblema, Naturalis, Green Time, Pomeriggio, ScandiFever, TV Corner, Nuance, Coastal Plants, Bontempo, Bossa Nova, Calligaris, Zara, Keep Life Simple, Morning Tea, Ofuro, Breezy, MinimaliSIM, Clarity, Modernism, Chlorophyll, Mix It

Soloriya: Winnie

MincSims: Tara, Basset

Siomi's: Vault Avalon House II

Simsova: Plants, Plant Stands

Lapanemona: HEX

Comiko: Boho, Book Nook Zodiac

[kitchenandfloorstoree]

Avalon Cabinets - Classic & Elegant | Kitchen & Floor Store

Explore our collection of Avalon cabinets at Kitchen & Floor Store. Add classic elegance to your kitchen with our stylish Avalon Shaker-style cabinets. Shop now!

[ottawarealtor]

Happy Thursday Everyone!

We just listed this stunning End unit Townhome with 4 bedrooms and backing onto a park in the beautiful community of Avalon West Orleans! Built in 2018 so home is in great shape

212 WILLOW ASTER CIR, Ottawa K4A 1C9 Listed For Sale at $695,000 MLS#1356497 4 Bed/ 3 bath / End unit / No Rear Neighbors/ Built 2018 Lot Size: 26 x 82 Feet Taxes: $4717/2023

Welcome to this NO REAR NEIGHBOURS, backing onto George Dassyilva Park end-unit four bedrooms townhome. This beautiful home offers an Open concept living space with hardwood flooring throughout the main level, natural light, a stunning accent wall fireplace with windows on each side, and a gorgeous view of the park. The chef's kitchen with plenty of cabinets, steel stainless appliances, and Granite countertops in the kitchen and on the Island. The second level offers a primary bedroom with 4 piece ensuite and walking closet, 3 other bedrooms and a full bathroom. The laundry is conveniently situated on the second level, with the option to move to the basement. The excellent size basement with rough-in for bath and plenty of storage space is waiting for your personal touch.

Book your showing today with Sorin Vaduva Real Estate !

#ottawa #justlisted #avalonwestorleans #mattamyhomes #endunit #townhome #forsale #soldbysorin #martabreestrepo #KellerWilliamsIntegrity #ottawarealtor #ottawarealestate

[pbear]

Breakaway

An introduction to one of my Black Clover OCs, Rikki Avalon

☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️

Rikki dusted off the spotless shelves once more. All her parents' vials and jars of different medicines had remained even after they’d been taken away. They hadn’t seen use for years and Rikki wondered if they were even able to be used anymore. She didn’t bother to throw them out though. The house was already empty as it was with only her living there.

It had once been filled with life back when her parents were still living there. It had been a happy house once.

“You’re amazing!” Her mother told her every time she performed a spell. “Look at what my daughter can do!” Her father bragged to the neighbors. Rikki knew she made her parents proud. She knew her parents loved her. Maybe they loved her a little too much.

“You’re under arrest.” A Magic Knight arrived at their door one day. “For charges of murder.” They’d traced the death of multiple kids throughout the town to her parents’ apothecary and the poison buried deep in the cabinets just dug the hole deeper.

“I’m sorry, Rikki, but we did it for you.” Her mother whispered in her ear while giving her one final hug. “We couldn’t let someone else be the best.” Rikki had thought over those words as she permanently closed the apothecary. The trend that ran through her parents’ victims was their great magical ability. They were abilities that rivaled her own. They’d been picking off kids that might outshine her.

Rikki was determined to never see her parents again. If it was even possible to visit them in prison, she didn’t. Her reflection in the mirror was reminder enough of her father’s golden eyes and her mother’s fair black hair. She began dying her hair. Bright yellow began to creep halfway up her locks from the tips. It was like the symbol of some hazardous mess. Well, that’s what she was after all. Hopefully, other people would know to stay away.

At fifteen, Rikki received her grimoire. A small, thin book designed with black, gold, and pink. How ironic, she’d thought when she’d first discovered her Needle Magic. A syringe materialized before her, reminiscent of the ones her parents had used.

Despite the reminder, Rikki still honed her magic. She wasn’t sure why she did, maybe some determination lay deep inside her to turn that symbol of a needle into something good. When she wasn’t practicing her magic, Rikki had picked up a job as a maid for some people across town. It made enough to pay for her survival. Her employers were the only people she really interacted with. Day in and day out, she went to work and came back home. As she walked through the streets, she’d see parents with their kids, friends laughing together, siblings arguing. Every time she saw them, she’d shake her head. There was no place for anything like that in her life, no place for people to get close to her. The people closest to you are the only ones who can truly hurt you after all. Returning to that empty home with all its unused vials told her that every day.

As time passed, Rikki learned to ignore people. Disinterest became the most familiar thing in her life. It did work. People don’t like it when they’re ignored. They tend to ignore you right back and that was okay with her.

Crash! Rikki’s eyes darted down to the shattered jar that had broken her out of her thoughts. Taking a deep breath, she went to retrieve a broom to sweep it up. After returning from a closet in the back, she began hearing faint yells from outside. A trip to the window greeted her with an explosion to the building across the street.

“Steal what you can!” Someone shouted and a group of bandits raced past with their grimoires glowing. Without thinking, Rikki raced outside. Her grimoire glowed with a dark magenta aura.

“Needle Magic: Dart Swarm!” A cloud of tiny tranquilizer darts appeared and set off in multiple directions. Her hand commanded them like a conductor to its orchestra. Three bandits fell to her spell before the rest of her darts were destroyed by a blast of fire magic.

“Stay out of the way, little girl,” A man snarled before running off across the rooftops. Coward. Who was he to tell her what to do? Rikki followed him down the streets. Debris was littered everywhere so she had to weave and jump while maintaining the chase. The fire wizard cornered a shopkeeper who was standing his ground against the bandits.

“Move aside and no one will get hurt,” He warned.

“Needle Magic: Sweeping Needle!” Rikki’s magic materialized a syringe that was as tall as she was. She took hold of the chain attached to the plunger and swung it out towards her opponent. The needle speared him through the shoulder and she tugged to pull him away from the townspeople.

“T-Thank you!” The shopkeeper stuttered out, “Are you a Magic Knight?”

“Um, no. Sorry.” Rikki turned away. Her spell disappeared, still leaving a gaping wound in the bandit’s shoulder. Had any Magic Knights been dispatched at all? Looking around, the area was much quieter and she didn’t see any stragglers. Someone must have helped take the rest of them out. Well, that was that. Rikki walked back through the messy streets. Just one more left and she’d be back at her…

A pile of rubble. Where her house should have been was a pile of rubble. She just stared at it. Those vials must be smashed to pieces under all of it.

Smash! Dust and wind blew back her hair as someone landed next to her. Rikki didn’t even turn to look at them.

“Hey.” Her eyes stayed trained on the remains of her house.

“Hey!” A hand chopped her on top of her head, forcing her to glare at the offender. A rugged looking man stared down at her, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. Rikki spotted the cloak draped across his shoulder, bearing the symbol of a black bull. So they had sent a Magic Knight after all.

“What do you want?” She muttered.

“So you do speak,” He seemed amused, which only made Rikki’s glare more intense.

“I saw your magic back there,” He said when the girl only gave him silence again, “You’re pretty good. How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“You ever considered being a Magic Knight?” Rikki didn’t answer again, but mostly because she didn’t know. She hadn’t considered much since she started living alone.

“You want to join my squad?” Rikki crossed her arms, looking him straight in the eye for the first time.

“I don’t work well with others. You should know that,” She warned, hoping that’d make him go away. He took a deep breath and she swore if he asked her why then she’d—

“That’s okay.” Her shoulders relaxed. “I won’t make you cooperate with anyone but who knows what the future holds?” Rikki looked over at her destroyed home, the one thing she had left, and then back to the squad captain. Where else was she supposed to go?

“Okay then.” A grin crossed his face while hers remained passive.

“Welcome to the Black Bulls, kid.”

[prettyboysmlm]

11, 15, 25, 35, 50, 42? (I picked random numbers) hehehe distraction <3

-🥄??

ugh. go eat.

11. favorite thing to do on a rainy day? hm if it’s just raining, then either sleep or draw while watching youtube. if its storming then i’ll hide in my bed with puggles and watch smth to distract me lol

15. your love language? physical affection definitely. both ways. i’m very touch starved to the point that a physical representation would be a disintegrating skeleton.

25. most attractive part of the human body? the eyes. no matter what color, they’re always the prettiest part of a person to me. tits also

35. have you ever had a near-death experience? if you count me being an idiot and ramming my temple into the corner of my bedside cabinet while playing with my dog, as well as the fact that i can’t even look at a bottle of benadryl without my heart racing, then yes, i have

50. do you believe in ghosts? yeah, i’ve seen enough shit to believe in them and be scared of them for the most part. probably doesn’t help that the main college i’m looking at is in the most haunted town in america lol

42. ever crushed on a cartoon character? bitch i only ever crush on cartoon characters. they are the most ideal fucked up versions of what i’m looking for in a man. honorable mentions include kristoph gavin, keith and lotor from vld, lio fotia, victor nikiforov, and professors palladium and avalon. also the only girls i’ve ever crushed on, rosalina from mario galaxy, franziska von karma, and grelle from black butler

[momizuka]

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[itsemilysworlds21]

Required post 7.2

The message that these sources are cumulatively state that Britain strategically planned a “Jewish state” half a decade before the “creation” of Israel in 1948. The existence of the Campbell-Bannerman report in 1907 shows that Palestine has been an idea for the British to use as a “buffer state” and to have it be a friendly territory in the middle east, while being a competitor with the Arab World. (Karatas) This paper was written during World War I, and it would be useful for the British to have one more dominated country that they could use for their advantage during a war. As well in this report it called for a Jewish state in Palestine, after failed attempts of creating a Jewish state in Argentina and Uganda. Another reason, for the push of a Jewish state, was that Britain and a lot of western Europe were very anti semitic and wanted to move Jewish people out. In most of these sources, it shows the explicit attempts of moving Jewish people into Palestine, through agreements between the British parliament or other western european countries. 

In 1915, a memorandum was presented to the British Cabinet by Herbert Samuel that highlighted many reasons why it would benefit Britain in pursuing a Jewish state in Palestine. An example mentioned would be, 

“ The inclusion of Palestine within the British Empire would add a lustre even to the British Crown. It would make a most powerful appeal to the people of the United Kingdom and the Dominions, particularly if it were avowedly a means of aiding the Jews to reoccupy the country. Widespread and deep-rooted in the Protestant world is a sympathy with the idea of restoring the Hebrew people to the land which was to be their inheritance, and intense interest in the fulfilment of the prophecies which have foretold it” (Samuel) 

This quote highlights again how the creation of Israel was not necessarily in helping Jewish state, but that it would look great for Britain and its citizens. Aswell it mentions the Zionist Protestant who believe if Jewish people reclaim the holy land, the rapture will occur. It highlights that it is much deeper than a quick land grab, but there will be restructuring in how people will view the zionist ideology and the British Empire’s power. 

In just a few years after this the Sykes-Picot Agreement (1916) and the Balfour Declaration (1917) solidified the Zionist ideology and the creation of the “Jewish state”. In the Sykes-Picot Agreement, France and Britain secretly outlined their control over the Arab countries with no consultation to any leader of the Arab world. 

These sources led me to realize that the work behind creating Israel was happening way before 1948. I knew that the existence of Israel in the middle east will help the western countries destabilize the middle east, and the use of the Suez Canal. But, with this research, it led me to realize there are way more reasons that Britain pleased the Zionist ideology. 

Works Cited

“The Avalon Project : The Sykes-Picot Agreement : 1916.” Avalon Project, https://avalon.law.yale.edu/20th_century/sykes.asp. Accessed 16 November 2024.

Heaney, Christopher. “"Future of Palestine" Memorandum by British Cabinet Member, Herbert Samuel - Question of Palestine.” the United Nations, 22 January 2021, https://www.un.org/unispal/document/future-of-palestine-by-herbert-samuel-government-of-united-kingdom-memorandum/. Accessed 16 November 2024.

Karatas, Ibrahim. “(PDF) Was Israel a Western Project in Palestine?” ResearchGate, 2020, https://www.researchgate.net/publication/347151281_Was_Israel_a_Western_Project_in_Palestine. Accessed 16 November 2024.

Tripier, Maurice, and Adelheid de Rothschild. “The Family ‹ Family interests.” The Family ‹ Family interests :: The Rothschild Archive, https://www.rothschildarchive.org/family/family_interests/walter_rothschild_and_the_balfour_declaration. Accessed 16 November 2024.

[bunnywalkcr]

who: bunny / self-para when: november 06, 1990 where: the walker estate ; 7:10 am

Bunny is at the kitchen table when it happens.

Morning sunshine slants in through the wide window above the sink, illuminating the glassware in the china cabinet and settling on the polished floors in buttery stripes. At one end of their long wooden table, Mr. Walker sits with the newspaper splayed open, hiding his weathered face. At the opposite end, Bunny cradles a steaming cup of coffee in a chipped yellow mug. Aside from the gurgling of the coffee machine and the rustling of turning pages, the kitchen is quiet; it is just the two of them.

Bunny takes a sip of coffee that burns her tongue. Good, she thinks. Her father always hated when she interrupted his morning ritual of coffee and the Cardinal Chronicle. Usually, her mother was in the kitchen, with them, spooning minute portions of yoghurt and granola into a ceramic bowl; but this morning, she'd left early to deliver a bouquet of sympathy flowers to the Avalons — leaving just Bunny and her father in the quiet of the kitchen.

Bunny studies her father's large, creased hands as they grip either edge of the newspaper: the black hair below his knuckles, the thick golden band of his wedding ring on the fourth finger of his left hand. Hands that had stroked her hair as a child and pressed against the back of her forehead to assess a fever. Hands that had trembled against the cold metal edge of a hospital bed, ghosting toward her without ever making contact. Hands that had waved away her tears and pleading words.

Her eyes drift from those hands across the front pages of the newspaper, the black bolded headline above a grainy portrait of Avalon Rivers. Almost everyone that had grown up in Cardinal Hill knew the Rivers name; and families in the know ( like the Walkers ) knew of the other-wordly power they possessed. The magic of their bloodline. To lose such a figurehead ' was already a blow to the community, ' as her father had said. . .but for Bunny, it raised more questions than anything else.

She takes another sip of her coffee, her hands encircling the mug. Her thoughts flash to Bishop, and a shiver runs down her spine — would he know things she didn't? Things about the suspicious death of Avalon Rivers? Suddenly, she needs to see him.

Bunny is preparing to abandon her coffee cup and make for The Captain's cottage when her father flips a page of the paper, and a new headline catches her eye.

WE KNOW WHAT YOU'RE HIDING.

But its the picture below that unsettling title that freezes Bunny in her tracks. She knows at once that it's her — except it's not her, but something from a nightmare. Her pointed face draws down, too far, mouth hollow and open; only gaping blackness where her lips and teeth should be. Her eyes are white and pupil-less, her too-long fingers are twisted in her hair.

In her horror, Bunny is unaware of how her own expression shifts; a mirroring of that grotesque portrait. She hears a scream and stumbles back, the chipped mug slipping from her hands. It shatters on the floor, and hot drops of black coffee splatter her bare shins. It is only after this that Bunny realizes the scream came from her.

When her gaze snaps back to the paper, she's startled instead to see her father's watery blue eyes peering at her from above his spectacles. The paper rests open on the tabletop, and Bunny's horrified eyes drop to the newsprint, scanning the headlines.

"Bunny?" Her father asks, cautiously, his brow creased. She tears her eyes from the paper to look at him.

"I'm. . .It's. . ."

"What's wrong?" He asks, and there's an undercurrent in his tone that sets her on edge. Like he's anticipating a meltdown from her and doesn't quite have the space for it in his schedule.

Didn't you see that? She wants to scream. But she only shakes her head, tears brimming in her eyes. She wants to flee the kitchen, to fling open the front doors and race to Bishop at their grandfather's cottage. But there's chips of glass on the floor and a puddle of coffee on the linoleum. She snatches a dish rag and stoops to the floor to clean up her mess.

"Nothing. I'm sorry."